by Kyra Davis
“You think he’ll just let me walk away?” she mumbles, her eyes falling closed. “My God you’re an idiot. A stupid little whore.”
I bite down on my lip. I’m not sure how to handle this. Part of me thinks I should be careful, even subtle, but Jessica is too drunk for subtle, and although I don’t know if she’ll remember brunch or not, I’ll be shocked if she remembers this.
“Mrs. Gable,” I say softly, “do you think he’d hurt you if you tried to leave?”
“You’re a whore,” she whispers back and breaks into a fit of drunken giggles.
I sigh; at least when Lander accused me of something similar he called me a courtesan. You have to respect a man who can phrase his insults so elegantly.
“What if there was a way for you to leave safely?” I ask. “What if you could start a brand-new life without him?”
Slowly, and with effort, she turns her head and looks up at me. Her eyes are unfocused but the desperation there is crystal clear. “Help me,” she whispers.
I open my mouth to respond when I hear the front door open and some quiet, urgent words exchanged in the hallway before the door to the bedroom is swung open and Travis stands before us.
“Bell, I need to talk to you,” he says coolly.
I stand up as Jessica mumbles something unintelligible. “I think she might need to go to the hospital,” I say urgently.
“She’ll be fine. Just get her another drink.”
“What?”
“It’s what she wants, isn’t it?”
“She’s blue!”
Travis turns the lights to full illuminative power as Jessica moans in protest. He strides over and picks up her arm, stares at it for a second, and then drops it back down on the bed. “Her coloring is fine, or at least it’s good enough. Do you want a drink, Jessica?”
“Yesss,” she whispers.
“Get her a drink.”
I stare at Travis, unable to move. “I . . . I can’t.”
“You were a bartender, Bell, you know how to do this.”
“No, I mean . . .” I stare down at Jessica. I hate this woman. I really hate her, and I knew she might commit suicide when I took the job. I practically counted on it, but now that we’re here I . . . I just can’t be an extension of his cruelty. I can’t be the one who kills her!
“Your kids are here,” I remind him, a little desperately.
“I told the nanny to take them out for pizza. Really, Bell, she’s just going to pass out. I don’t see what the problem is. But if you’d rather she suffer through this, fine. She can get her own drink. Regardless, I need to talk to you, now.”
I look from him to her and then to him again.
Sara was right. He wants her to die. It’s why he’s so intent on regularly humiliating her. Like me, he wants her to disappear.
But now that we’re here, in the moment of truth, I realize that he has the advantage. Travis is simply more merciless than I have ever been or ever could be.
And now I don’t know what to do.
Travis walks back to the bedroom door. “Shall we speak in the office?”
“Yes—I mean . . . I’ll get her a drink and meet you there.”
He registers pleasant surprise. “Fine, be quick.”
When he walks out I count to fifteen and then rush to the kitchen, where I pull out a double-old-fashioned glass, throw in some ice cubes and a small slice of lemon, and fill it with water. In less than a minute I’m back by Jessica’s side. “Here,” I say, pressing the glass into her hand.
“What is it?” she whispers.
“Vodka.”
A small smile plays on her lips and she manages to prop herself up and sip from the glass.
“I can’t taste the alcohol.”
“It’s there, you’re just too drunk to notice it. Drink more.”
She nods and sips.
“I have to go talk to your husband now, but I’ll get you another before I leave, okay?”
“That’s so kind of you.”
“Oh my God, you have no idea.” I stand up and leave the room, pulling out my phone as I do.
When I step into the hall I almost bump into the nanny, who is ushering the children out. “Button your coats, it’s cold outside,” she says cheerily before turning to me and whispering under her breath, “Can you believe this shit?”
I shake my head and make a face that makes her smile as she walks out.
I glance toward the office, where there’s a soft glow. I look down at my phone, take a deep breath, and text Lander.
Your sister-in-law may be on the verge of drinking herself to death and your brother’s all for it. If that bothers you, you might want to get over here.
I throw the phone back into my handbag. I’m not even interested in seeing his response. I’m so insanely pissed at myself right now. How could I be so . . . so empathetic? And now I’m turning to Lander for help? I shouldn’t be turning to Lander for anything! What is wrong with me?
I stride into Travis’s office and throw myself down onto the chair across from the love seat where he sits.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asks.
“Nothing, everything’s just great. Here.” I pull Lander’s phone records out of my bag and hand them over to him. “I don’t know if they’re worth anything, but now you have them.”
“So I do,” he says as he scans the documents. “Now, why don’t you tell me why Lander wanted to know if I was acquainted with someone named Talebi.”
“I did tell you, he wants—”
“To be a managing director?” Travis says with a raise of his eyebrow. “My brother isn’t stupid. If he wants to get ahead at HGVB he doesn’t need to knock me out of the way to do it. He’s good at his job and he’s a Gable. Our family is literally the G in HGVB. There is more family nepotism in this particular financial institution than any other I know of. If he continues to do his job well he’ll be promoted soon enough, as will I, and eventually we’ll reign together. He may not stay in the investment banking division but he’ll have power, money, and prestige, which is what everyone wants in this business. So let’s try this again, shall we? Why does Lander want to know about Talebi and what does he want to know about him? Or better yet, why are you lying to me?”
“I’m not—I’m not—”
Travis holds up his hand to stop me. “There are men who find stammering, weak women to be cute. I don’t. So take a moment and get yourself together and answer my question with more efficiency.”
“I’m not lying to you, Mr. Gable. I’m just relaying what Lander told me.”
“Ah.” Travis drums his fingers against his knee as he studies me. “It’s hard for women, isn’t it?”
“What’s hard?”
“Having sex with a man without getting emotionally involved. How many times have you fucked my brother now? Five times? Ten? Twenty? Has he made you come every time?”
“Mr. Gable, I’m not getting emotionally—”
“We’ve moved on from that question; now I’ve asked you another. How many times have you fucked him and how many times has he made you come?”
I press my lips together and glance toward the door.
“In the video,” Travis says as he gets to his feet and walks behind me, “you came while you were on a table.”
I can feel his hands touching my hair. Again I glance toward the door.
“He had just turned you on your back,” he continues. “And then he rode you like a man would ride any good mare. And you just couldn’t get enough. And then the two of you came together. Very romantic. And as far as I could tell, he wasn’t wearing a condom. Wonderfully thoughtful of you to let him come inside you. He certainly seemed to appreciate it.”
“Mr. Gable, I think we’re getting off topic.”
“No.” Travis’s hands move to my shoulders, which he massages with firm, steady movements. “We’re definitely on point. You have fucked my brother and he has made you come over and over again, and now you’re at
tached, and you’re lying to me in order to protect him.”
“No, that’s not what’s going on,” I insist. “He’s just a good time, that’s all. And I’ve been enjoying this little spy game you’ve gotten me into. It’s fun, a bit like a Bond movie.”
“And that would make you a Bond girl, wouldn’t it?” His hands are moving a little farther down, toward my breasts.
I abruptly stand up, putting distance between us by walking over to the window before turning to face him. I despise being alone with Travis, and I hate it when he goads me. But most of all, I hate that he’s right. Not about my supposed attempts to protect Lander, but about my emotional attachment.
My feelings for Lander are not what they should be. Not at all. I’ve fallen for my mark. And the worst part is that I may not be protecting him, but I desperately want to. I don’t want to play by the rules of my own game.
“It’s not just that he wants to get ahead,” I say, trying to keep my voice cool. “He wants to hurt you when he does it. Your brother doesn’t like you, Mr. Gable. He wants to see you suffer. He knows that the best way to do that is to undermine your career while promoting his own. I’m not lying to you.”
“No? That’s good.” Slowly he advances on me and then carefully he puts a hand on either side of my head, the pressure he applies a little too strong to be comfortable. “I really don’t like it when people lie to me, Bell. It makes me a little crazy. But”—and with this he removes his hands from the sides of my head and gently strokes my cheek—“your story about Lander wanting to hurt me? That rings true.”
I almost collapse in relief. But I hold it together, keeping both his gaze and my composure.
“You know what would be even more convincing?”
“What?”
“Take off your clothes.”
“What?”
“You say Lander means nothing to you. Prove it. Have sex with me. Or if not me maybe I should call in L.J.? He says you weren’t very respectful last time he saw you. Perhaps I should call him over and you could make it up to him. He seems to think a spanking’s in order.”
“Mr. Gable—”
“Or perhaps Javier?”
“Javier?” I breathe. “Why would you suggest him?”
“I ran into him while having lunch at Del Posto,” he says. “I couldn’t understand much of what he said, but your name did come up. He’d like to see you. I believe he would like to see much more of you than he can see at dinner. Shall we call him, Bell?”
“No,” I say a little too quickly. There’s no way that was an accidental meeting. Perhaps it was Javier just trying to get his “turn” with me, as Micah so delicately put it. Or perhaps it was the gangsters’ way of reminding me that they are keeping tabs on me.
But at the moment it’s just a reminder of the precariousness of my situation.
“Very well then, not Javier,” Travis says with a smile. “It can be any man you want, or woman for that matter. I certainly wouldn’t want to impose my tastes on you. But do choose someone. I do want to see where your loyalty lies. You say it’s not with my brother? Show me the evidence.”
There’s a way out of this. There’s always a way out. I can keep his trust, or if necessary, regain it, without turning into a whore.
But I don’t know the way out. I don’t have a map for this detour. “You say I can sleep with anyone,” I say slowly.
“Anyone except my brother, who you’re already taking care of.”
“But”—I pause, sucking in yet another deep breath—“you want me to sleep with you.”
“It’s simpler that way,” he says smoothly.
“How so?”
“Neither one of us is at risk of becoming attached.”
I force a laugh. “So just sex.”
“This is my test, Bell. It’s not difficult to pass.”
“Okay.”
Travis’s eyes light up with lust and triumph as he reaches for me, but I sidestep him, putting distance between us. “Okay,” I say again, “but not now.”
“Why not?” he asks, a little bemused, a little irritated. “You have to work up your nerve? Or perhaps you really do have to decide where your loyalties lie.”
“Or perhaps,” I say, mimicking his tone, “I don’t want to have sex with you while your wife is dying of alcohol poisoning in the next room. I like things dark, but even I have my limits.”
“She’s not dying—”
“It’s close enough. I’m not doing this now and I’m not doing this here. Not with her nearby like that.”
Travis’s jaw moves from side to side. If it completely unhinged right now and he turned out to be some kind of predatory alien being, I don’t think I’d be surprised. “Do you have a date in mind?”
I shrug. At this point I’m just stalling for time, giving myself room to think. I try to come up with an answer that will appease him while still procrastinating for as long as possible when someone knocks on the front door.
Travis looks surprised for a moment and then shakes his head. “If they didn’t have to ring from the lobby it means it’s the nanny. She must have forgotten something.” I follow him out of the room as he goes to the door, flings it open, and is confronted by Lander.
“Hi, bro,” Lander says, his smile easy and his posture relaxed. “Jessica called me, said she needed some last-minute help with this political fund-raiser.”
The sound of his voice immediately calms me. I can’t help it. I can’t make him affect me in a different way than he does. Things were getting out of hand and now, just hearing him speak, knowing that he’s occupying the same space as me . . . I can breathe again.
He once told me that we’re all just puzzle pieces needing to make our connections, linking our lives to others to find out where we fit best. Lander and I fit. I don’t want that to be true, but all other connections feel unnatural and awkward. Together, we form a picture that makes sense.
“Since when have you been interested in helping Jessica with her fund-raisers?” Travis asks, jarring me out of my thoughts. I’m standing behind him so I can’t see Travis’s face, but I can see the tense position of his shoulders.
“I’m not,” Lander admits. “But she’s family and it’s not like she asks often. So where is she?” he asks, pushing past his brother. He spots me for the first time and flashes me a smile and a quick wink before calling out, “Jessica?”
“She’s in there,” I say quietly, gesturing to the door with my thumb.
Lander knocks as Travis tries to intervene. “I don’t know why she called you, but she’s resting now.”
“I just told you why she called, but if you like we can ask her now,” Lander says and knocks again before just opening the door.
“That’s her bedroom,” Travis snaps.
“Really?” Lander asks as he peeks into the dimly lit room. “I thought the bedroom belonged to both husband and wife.” He pushes the door all the way open and steps inside.
And there’s Jessica, moaning softly as she lies across the bed, her head partially lolling over the edge and a pool of vomit on the floor.
Travis recoils in disgust, but Lander just moves her hair back from her sweaty forehead. “Jessica, do you remember calling me? You said you needed help?”
Jessica opens her eyes and looks up at her guest. “Oh,” she says softly, “I don’t feel very well.”
“It looks like you might have had a little too much to drink.”
“Lander?” she asks, as if she’s just now figuring out who he is.
“Yes, it’s me, you called me. “
“Oh yes.” Her eyes fall to half-mast. “Your girlfriend’s a whore.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Lander corrects. “If I did I wouldn’t have asked your assistant to accompany me to the fund-raiser dinner.”
“Oh yes,” she whispers. She’s almost out again.
Lander presses two fingers against the vein in her wrist. “It would appear that I’ve been drunk dialed,” he sa
ys, looking up at Travis. “Funny, because she sounded coherent on the phone . . . Well, coherent by Jessica standards. Still, she’s not looking good. Her pulse is weak and her coloring?” He turns on the nightstand lamp and Jessica moans again. “Even worse. You’re going to need to take her to the hospital.”
“You expect me to drag the Gable name through the dirt by allowing people to see her like this?” Travis asks incredulously. “She’ll be fine.”
“Maybe,” Lander says, standing up and facing his brother. “Or maybe not. With your permission I’d like to drop the normal civilities and be honest with you.”
Travis smirks. “You have my permission.”
“Good. Because the truth is, I don’t like your wife. I never have. But she’s the mother of my niece and nephew, so I think it best that we don’t let her die. If you prefer, I’ll take her in, bribe a couple of nurses to keep this as quiet as possible, which shouldn’t be hard. We’re bankers, not celebrities. No one’s going to be calling the tabloids over this, and if Page Six had room for every socialite overdose, that column would read like a James Frey book. Nobody wants that. So let’s just take care of this.”
Travis’s eyes slide from Lander to me and then back to Lander. “Fine. It’s unnecessary, but if it will make you feel better be my guest.”
“Great.” Lander looks down at Jessica. “I take it you won’t be coming with me?”
“I don’t have time for field trips,” Travis says between gritted teeth.
“Very well.” He leans down and scoops up Jessica in his arms, wrinkling his nose slightly, put off by the smell of her. “Bell, I’m going to need your help.”
“And why is that?” Travis asks in a voice that implies that he knows the answer.
“I only have so many hands,” Lander says irritably. “I could use help, and it seems appropriate that your wife’s assistant help me deal with this.” He looks over at me. “Your employer is in a stupor; I assume you’re free?”
I nod, feeling more grateful than I can let on here.
My enemy has saved me.
chapter fourteen
