The maid, Betty, nodded. “Yes, Miss Tate. Would you like me to bring your breakfast now or wait until your guest leaves?”
“Go ahead and bring it… Ophelia won’t be staying long,” Melina replied and retreated to the dining room as the maid left for the kitchen. Ophelia’s only option was to follow after Melina. It was a subtle move, but telling. Melina still felt like she had all the power in the situation. That was about to change.
When Ophelia entered the dining room, Melina was seated at the head of the table, sipping her coffee and casually scrolling on her tablet. “What brings you here, Ophelia?”
“Don’t be coy. We both know what you’ve done… I’m tired of your scheming and lies, of constantly living in a state of anxiety over what your obsessive need for revenge will result in next.”
A cool smile curved Melina’s lips. “You make me sound positively Machiavellian… and to be blunt, dear, you sound rather paranoid.”
Ophelia walked across the room and placed the photo on top of Melina’s tablet. “You can keep that one. I have others.”
Melina’s smile receded, her eyes grew colder and the tension that settled in her face resulted in a pinched look that was less than attractive. “So now you’re a dirty spy?”
“You tried to destroy my marriage once before and you failed. You failed again this time… You’ve tried to destroy everyone I love at one time or another. I’m done playing your games. You leave me, my husband and my family the hell alone, or I will make sure that everyone who is anyone in this town will avoid you like the plague.” Ophelia uttered the warning with complete conviction. She had the means to make that threat a reality and they both knew it.
Melina’s lips tightened further, drawing back on a snarl. “Have you forgiven Vincent so easily then? Does it really matter why he slept with another woman… or just that he did? You’ll never trust him again. And every time he leaves town for business, you’re going to wonder if that’s really all it is.”
There was enough truth to that to sting. But Ophelia had realized something even more important. Sitting on the plane with Vincent asleep beside her, she’d reached the conclusion that trusting him was a choice. Believing in his love for her was also a choice, and if she kept questioning it at every turn, eventually he would too.
“I love my husband, and I trust him… but I don’t trust you. Ever. I have the photos of you and the former governor. I also have signed affidavits from the stripper and the bartender you hired to implement your little scheme. Also, Claude may have taken the fall for you,” Ophelia said nonchalantly, “But I wouldn’t be too certain of his loyalty given his present surroundings. Prison can be a very eye opening experience, or so I’m told.”
“Claude would never betray me,” she said smugly. “I have too much on him.”
Ophelia tapped the photo. “And now we have quite a bit on you… Leave my family alone, Melina. Whatever you think you’re owed, whatever you think you deserve, let it go. You’ve pushed far enough and now I’m pushing back.”
Ophelia turned to walk away, quietly victorious. Melina shrieked and the coffee she’d been nursing came whizzing past Ophelia’s head, the cup smashing against the wall and the remnants of the dark liquid spilling over hand painted wallpaper. “This is over when I say it is,” Melina shouted.
Ophelia turned back to her and without hesitation or even thought, slapped the other woman hard. Her handprint blossomed on Melina’s pale cheek and Melina stared at her in horror.
“I’ll have you arrested!”
“You can try,” Ophelia said. “But all that will do is cause more whispers. ‘What has that crazy bitch done now? I heard she’s still pining for Vincent DuChamps. You know she slept with Claude to worm her way into the family. Do you really think Claude could plot out an embezzlement scheme on his own?’” Ophelia stopped there. “That’s what’s they whisper now. How much worse will it have to get before you’re not invited to parties, before you’re no longer even hanging onto the fringes of society?”
“It would be just the same for you,” Melina snapped.
Ophelia nodded. “It would. And I couldn’t care less. If I never have to go to another boring social function, I’d dance a jig… but that’s where we’re different, Melina. I have things in my life that matter… and you have nothing except a shallow, empty shell. But if you push me, you’ll lose even that. Quit while you’re ahead.”
With that, Ophelia walked out, leaving Melina sputtering behind her. Confronting her, openly and honestly, made her feel strong and powerful. The rest of her doubts and insecurities faded to nothing in that moment.
In the last year, she’d lost herself, she’d lost sight of who she was as a person and had been totally focused on who she was as a mother. In the last twenty four hours, with her life falling apart around her, she’d actually managed to figure it out.
Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she called Brenna. “We need to go shopping… and I need a makeover.”
Brenna groaned. “Do you know what time it is?”
“It’s time I started remembering that I have a super hot husband at home and that I’m pretty damn hot myself,” Ophelia replied.
That apparently got Brenna’s attention. “Meet me at that shop on Decatur where I used to work. And for waking me up this early, you’re buying me a new dress.”
“Deal,” Ophelia said.
The streetcar was approaching so Ophelia walked quickly to the stop at the corner to catch it and get down to the Quarter. Once she’d boarded, she texted Vincent.
Ophelia: Melina is taken care of.
Vincent: Taken care of? What the hell does that mean?
Ophelia: I didn’t kill her. I just confronted her. She knows what we have and she knows we won’t hesitate to use it.
Vincent: You should not have gone there without me.
Ophelia: I’m not going to fight with you about this. I did what I felt like I had to and now it’s taken care of. I’m going shopping with Brenna and I’ll see you at home this afternoon.
Vincent: Shopping? WTF?
Ophelia: You’ll like what I’m buying. Slapping her smug face made me feel like a badass. I might come home dressed like one.
‡
Chapter Ten
Vincent reread the last text and shook his head. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on with his wife but it didn’t sound good.
Shelving that thought, he went into damage control mode. He texted Stanley the info he had so that appropriate measures could be taken. Prosecuting Melina wasn’t really an option. He didn’t want the whole sordid mess in the papers and she’d undoubtedly connive or fuck her way out of it regardless. Stanley would handle it. Nondisclosure agreements and the threat of civil action upon breach would be one of his first steps. He’d known Stanley for a long time and had a great appreciation for the way the man worked.
After checking emails, he checked in with Justin. Listening to Isabella chatter on the phone, Vincent became painfully aware of all that he was missing out on. The Lexington hotel wasn’t worth it. Yes, it would be good for the business overall, but for what it was costing him personally—he had to find some other way to make it work.
Vincent made one last call. Kaitlyn picked up almost instantly. “Tell me she punched the bitch!”
Vincent chuckled in spite of everything. “There was no punching, but there was a slap.”
Kaitlyn cackled with delight. “Oh, what I would not give to have seen the look on Melina Tate’s pinched face!”
“There’s something I need to talk to you about… More of a favor I need,” Vincent said.
“Okay,” Kaitlyn said.
“I know it’s a lot to ask—.”
Kaitlyn laughed. “Vincent, I didn’t mean it was okay to ask. I meant okay, I’ll do it. Whatever it is.”
Vincent shook his head. “You don’t even know it is!”
“I don’t have to… you’ve done everything for us. For me. For Justin. Just tell me wha
t you need and it’s done.”
“Where is my sister and what have you done with her?”
Kaitlyn growled then. “Look, don’t push it. My generosity does have limits.”
“I want you to supervise the renovation on the Lexington property… I’m here to answer any questions or if there is anything you can’t handle. But for the day to day stuff—I can’t keep spending so much time away from home, Kaitlyn.”
“I know nothing about construction, but luckily for you, I’m enough of a bitch that it won’t matter,” she said. “I’ll just make them so afraid of me they’ll do everything right. Is this because of what happened here?”
Vincent thought about his answer, more carefully than he cared to admit. “Yes and no. I miss Ophelia. I’m missing seeing Isabella grow up. And after all this—I can’t fuck this up. I can’t let the business be more important to me than they are. I lost sight of that.”
“Whatever you need to do, do it. I can help with the project here and if I run into trouble we do have another brother who happens to know a lot about construction. It’s about time we took some of the load off your shoulders,” she said. “Don’t you dare tell Ophelia I’m being nice, I’ll deny it to my last breath.”
He laughed again. “Are you ever going to give up this feud with her? I thought you two were at least on friendly terms now.”
“This is as friendly as I get… and this is our thing. She’s the yin to my yang, so to speak. And she’s definitely the yin to your yang. So don’t fuck this up.”
Vincent heard the front door open. “I’ve got to go. I’ll email you everything you need for the project and I’ll email the foreman and let him know he’s got a new contact person.”
“I love you, Vincent.”
He didn’t have time to say it back. Kaitlyn had already ended the call. It was a hard thing for her to say and he thought it was an even harder thing for her to hear.
The door to the study opened and Ophelia stood in the doorway. She’d done something different to her hair though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.
“I don’t know what it is, but I like it,” he said.
Ophelia tossed her hair over her shoulder, letting it float around her face. “I’m glad you approve. It was very expensive. Most of the things I did today were very expensive. Sorry about that.”
He shrugged. “I don’t care what you spend… maybe why you’re spending it though. Is it retail therapy or revenge?”
She smiled and leaned against the doorframe. “Spa therapy, actually… mostly. I’m not really mad at you. I was hurt. I was scared. And that all came out as anger, but this wasn’t a situation that you could control. What happened to you—well that’s it. It happened to you. You didn’t do this. You didn’t make this happen. And blaming you or being angry at you just makes me a bitch.”
“Or human,” he corrected. “If I’d seen what you did… if I’d had to look at another man with his hands on you, I’d have killed the bastard. Circumstances be damned.”
“I don’t want to talk about that… not now. Not ever again. You didn’t hurt me, Vincent. Melina Tate used you to hurt me and vice versa. I’m not letting her win. I’m not giving her that kind of power over us.”
It couldn’t possibly be that easy. “That’s it? You’re just closing the book on it like it didn’t happen?”
She raised an eyebrow at that. “Do you want me not to? We can fight about it. We can talk about it till we’re blue in the face, but it’s not going to change anything. And if anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. I should have trusted you and I didn’t… I’m going upstairs. And you should come with me. We have another day in this house alone before we go pick up Isabella and I don’t want to waste it.”
“What do you have in mind?”
She smiled. “It’s more of a show than a tell, Vincent. You’re going to like what I did today… I promise.”
Any rational thought went completely out the window. God, he wanted her. As Vincent rose to follow her, his phone rang again. He glanced at the screen and cursed. “It’s Stanley. I have to take it.”
Ophelia pursed her lips “You have five minutes or I’m starting without you.”
Vincent watched her go, watched the sway of her hips as she climbed the stairs and cursed again. Answering the call, he said, “Stanley, this had better be good.”
Stanley chuckled softly. “It’s better than good… I stopped and paid Claude a visit on my way home. He’s singing like a bird. He’s given me a signed affidavit detailing every bit of Melina’s involvement. If you want to push for an indictment, I can probably make it happen.”
“No. I just want it done. I don’t even care. Hold on to everything and if she starts stirring shit up again, we will, but for now, I just want it over.”
Stanley made a sound of disagreement. “It’s your call, but I think we should pursue it. Take a few days and think about it, okay?”
Vincent sighed. “Fine. I have to go.” Vincent turned his phone off and for an added measure of freedom, left it laying on the desk as he headed up the stairs. When he walked into the bedroom, the lights were turned down. Candles had been lit and the shades were drawn, casting the whole room in shadow.
Vincent sat down on the edge of the bed to wait for her and whatever surprises she had in store for him.
*
Ophelia surveyed her reflection and wondered for a moment if she’d lost her mind. It wasn’t Vincent who didn’t see her as sexy. The problem was that she’d stopped seeing herself that way and so she’d spent the day doing all the things that would help her feel that way again. She’d splurged ridiculously—spa treatments, a new haircut, and new lingerie.
It was the kind of lingerie she used to wear. Before she’d had a baby. Before she’d breastfed a baby. Her breasts were spilling out of the minuscule cups, the tops of her nipples clearly visible above the black satin. The matching garter belt and lace topped stockings made her feel sexy, though. And the tiny thong panties, held together with a simple ribbon, revealed that her spa day had included very thorough waxing.
Slipping her feet into the highest heels she’d worn in her life, she walked toward the door and took a deep breath. There was no hiding in that getup. Stretch marks, a belly that had never been flat and now never would be. But that was the point. She needed to feel sexy as she was, and not as she used to be.
Opening the door, Ophelia paused in the doorway and met Vincent’s gaze. The moment of doubt faded. He looked at her and she knew that he didn’t see the flaws she did, he didn’t see the changes. He saw her and he wanted her, just the way she was.
“I’m never dancing around a pole,” she said. “But I thought a little bit of spice wouldn’t hurt.”
He swallowed before speaking and when he did manage to utter words, his voice was deep and gruff. “If that’s what you call a little bit of spice, anything beyond it would be the death of me… Jesus, Ophelia!”
She walked towards him, feeling bolder. When she reached him, she nudged his knees apart with one of her own until she was standing between his thighs. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she forced him to tip his head back to look up at her. “Jesus has nothing to do with this.”
Vincent’s hands skimmed her thighs, coming to rest on her hips. His thumbs moved in slow circles over the tender skin between the edge of her garter belt and the narrow band of her panties. “As often as you call out to God,” he said with a smirk, “I just assumed it was a religious experience.”
With her hands on his shoulders, Ophelia pushed him back on the bed. He was being shockingly cooperative in letting her take the lead. Her hands roamed his chest, before finally sliding beneath the hem of the t-shirt he wore. Raking her nails over his skin, she smiled as he cursed between clenched teeth.
“Don’t tease, Ophelia,” he warned.
“Or what?” she fired back as she grasped his belt buckle and began slowly unfastening it. There were no hurried movements. The back of her hand brus
hed against the hard the ridge of his erection and when he cursed again, she repeated the movement. “Teasing is the best part, Vincent. Building slowly toward a big finish… Take your shirt off and then put your hands behind your head.”
He did so, but it was grudging. “We generally enjoy this more if I get to touch you, too.”
“You will…but not until I say so. It’s been too long since I got to be the one in charge.” Ophelia punctuated the statement by pressing her lips to his chest and giving him a slightly less than gentle bite. With her hand still pressed against his cock, she felt his immediate reaction.
“Christ. You can be in charge whenever you want,” he muttered.
Ophelia laughed softly, a low and throaty sound that was pure sex. She felt powerful. She felt sexy and she felt like herself again. Tugging his belt free at last, she dropped it to the floor and then unfastened his jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly to reveal the silk boxers beneath. Rather than remove his clothes, she simply reached in and eased his cock free of the constraining fabric.
The heat of him in her hand was too tempting. Stroking him gently from base to tip, Ophelia felt the shudder that rippled through his body. But that wasn’t enough. She wanted him to tremble for her as she did for him. With that goal in mind, she trailed softer and gentler kisses down his stomach, until she could take him in her mouth.
His breath hissed out and his thighs clenched beneath her hands. Drawing him deeper, Ophelia swirled her tongue over his rigid flesh, feeling him grow even harder. Glancing up at him through her lashes, she noted his intent gaze. He was watching everything she did and that excited her more than anything else.
Relaxing her jaw, she took him deeper, keeping her lips clamped tightly around him. When he groaned, his muscles tensing and his eyes flashing as he stared at her, Ophelia reached up and raked her nails lightly over his balls.
Back to the Beginning: A Duet Page 12
