Lovers' Lies

by Shirley Wine

  "That’s blackmail." Victoria stared at him, appalled. "I don’t have that kind of money."

  "You might not, but to your fiancé its small change."

  "I can’t ask Keir," she said in a horrified whisper.

  "Your choice. It’s half my usual fee, in appreciation of your help all those years ago." He slid out of the booth and gave her a sly grin. "And I was as guilty as sin, too."

  Left alone, Victoria faced the shattering realization she was nothing but a naive little fool, both then and now.

  In the past she’d often wondered if he was guilty of doping race horses. She’d even sworn, on oath, he’d not been near her father’s horses.

  And unless she’d misunderstood, Dan also indicated she couldn’t trust her father.

  She’d been a fool to trust him. And, it seemed now, her father, too.

  Huddle with thieves and expect to be robbed—too late she remembered one of her mother’s favorite sayings.

  A strange man sliding into the booth opposite jerked Victoria out of her stasis.

  She quickly exited the bar, walked to where Albee waited in the utility and climbed in.

  Not until they were on the way home did he ask with gruff kindness, "Are you okay, missus?"

  She looked at him, knowing her lips were trembling.

  "I should have listened to you and Mrs. T," she whispered holding a fist to her lips. "What am I going to do now?"

  As her stricken words echoed in the cab, the kindly gardener laid a reassuring hand on her thigh. "Talk to Keir, missus. He might huff and puff, but he dotes on you and young Connor. He’ll help you put whatever it is you’ve discovered, right. He’s a good man and a very staunch friend."

  Victoria shivered. Albee was mistaken. She was acutely aware that Keir was far from doting on her.

  How can I ask him for ten thousand dollars?

  She shook her head. She couldn't.

  But could she let Dan destroy the entire Donovan family?

  Chapter Twenty

  To do nothing is a decision in itself.

  Those words aptly summed up the dilemma she faced. For twenty four hellish hours she stewed over Dan’s ultimatum.

  Finally, after a sleepless night, she decided to trust Albee’s judgment. She had to ask Keir for the money.

  Who else she could turn to?

  She could never ask Logan, Caine or her father.

  She tried imagining every scenario, rehearsed countless opening gambits. None struck the right chord.

  Hiding under a blanket, Albee again secreted her away from Dunstan.

  She knew she was courting Keir’s wrath but she didn’t want a bodyguard accompanying her on this mission.

  So far, no one had paid her the slightest heed.

  And to her relief there was no press contingent camped outside the high rise office block, The Donovan Group headquarters.

  Butterflies clumped around her stomach with hobnail boots as she prepared to face Keir.

  In his office lobby, her nerve almost failed.

  Her heart raced and palms grew slick with sweat. I can’t do this.

  Hovering on the brink of flight, the doors opened and Keir strode through, halting abruptly when he saw her. "Victoria! What are you doing here? Where’s Connor?"

  "At home with Mrs. T. I needed to see you?"

  "Where’s Holly?"

  She grimaced. Keir wasn’t going to like this. "I gave her the slip."

  A heavy frown darkened his face. But he didn’t scold just gave an expressive shrug. "How did you escape the mob at the gate?"

  "Albee helped me." She gave a rueful grimace. "They took no notice of the gardener and his sidekick in the old Ute."

  Keir’s smile was wicked. "Clever! Come upstairs."

  He put a hand on her arm, the warm pressure infinitely comforting. Would the comfort remain when he knew why she was here? "The press doesn't bother you here?"

  "They did at first but the police moved them on." He shrugged dismissively. "They always eventually move on to more satisfying prey."

  Now that it was too late, she devoutly wished she’d heeded that advice. But the damage was well and truly done.

  "I don’t want to be disturbed, Chloe," he informed his receptionist as he escorted her into his inner sanctum.

  She barely heard the door close over the thunderous beat of her heart.

  God, I can’t do this.

  To give herself time, she wandered around his office, studying paintings on the wall, picking up a small bronze statue of a girl carrying two baskets from a side table. She rubbed a nervous finger over the cold metal before carefully replacing it.

  All the time she was aware of his silent scrutiny.

  She turned to the window and stared out. In the distance she caught a glimpse of the water through the trees marking the course of the mighty Waikato River as it snaked its way through Hamilton.

  "What’s the matter, Victoria?"

  She gave a start and turned to look at him. "What makes you ask?"

  "Maybe because you resemble a cat on hot bricks," he said with dry humor.

  The observation made her wince and she surreptitiously wiped a damp palm on her skirt as she turned to face him.

  So it starts, the demands you want satisfied in return for marriage and allowing me access to my children.

  His contemptuous words echoed through her tortured thoughts.

  She couldn’t ask. Desperate, she turned to flee.

  In two strides Keir crossed the space and took her chilled hands in his. "Victoria, what is it?"

  She looked up at him, her heart raced and her breathing so shallow, she was almost lightheaded.

  She inhaled deeply, clenched a hand, praying Albee had read him right. Remembering all that was at stake, she knew the only way was to brazen it out.

  "I want ten thousand dollars, Keir."

  His face went blank.

  His usually expressive chocolate eyes went strangely opaque. Not a sound broke the incredible stillness as they looked at each other.

  Say something. Anything!

  Victoria felt sick to the pit of her stomach. What was he thinking?

  Without uttering a word he turned to his desk, yanked open a drawer and extracted a check book. The sounds of his movements impinged on the heavy silence.

  He put his hand inside his suit jacket, the silence so sharp she heard the rustle of the silk lining of his suit coat above the thunder of her pulse.

  The scratch of the fountain pen on paper made her mouth go dry.

  Tension throbbed on the air.

  Through the long reaches of the night, she’d tried to imagine this scene and hadn’t come even close.

  The sound of the check ripping from the book was obscene.

  "Here’s your payment, madam." The menace in that silky voice sent the hairs up on the back of her neck. "Now I’ll take mine."

  Before she had time to grasp the enormity of his words he caught her in a crushing grip and hauled her close to a body tension hardened in every muscle and sinew.

  A strong hand forced up her chin.

  He stopped her shocked protest by the simple expedient of covering her mouth with his in a predatory kiss, a kiss that scorched clear through to her toes.

  Panicked excitement leapt along her veins.

  This was no ordinary kiss.

  It was powerful, hungry and with a deep underlay of emotion she was unable to unscramble her wits, to interpret.

  She felt his hand at the buttons of her blouse and then his long supple fingers were on her breast kneading and stroking until she was bucking beneath his touch. Her whimpers were absorbed in the cavern of his mouth.

  Victoria was barely aware of moving until her knees buckled and she was at the edge of his desk. Without breaking the kiss he lifted her to sit on the front edge.

  A knee nudged her thighs apart and he was between them. He leaned her backward and afraid of falling, she let him go leaning her hands back on the desk to support h
er weight.

  His hands moved up to her head and quickly destroyed the coronet she taken such care over that morning.

  Her hair cascaded around her shoulders.

  Keir allowed her no time to regroup before he scrambled her wits even more.

  A hard hand slid up her thigh and in one effortless movement he ripped her panties in two, tossing them carelessly aside.

  Long lean fingers probed the entrance to her body, already slick with arousal.

  As he penetrated deeply with his fingers, her shocked cry was muffled in his mouth.

  This was ravishment, plain and simple.

  Before she guessed what he was about, he dropped to his knees and his mouth replaced his hand. Victoria bucked and cried out before fiery sensation streaked through her entire being turning her into a quivering mass of molten sensation.

  Quivering, wound so tight, she crashed off the edge of the world. He allowed her no time before he was there driving relentlessly into her body. Her head hung backward the effort to lift it too much.

  His hard thrusts drove her up and over the edge until, boneless, she spiraled into black space.

  Keir’s harsh breathing penetrated her stupor.

  Slowly raising weighted eyelids, she lifted her head.

  Keir was standing in front of her fully clothed. His expression chilled her to the bone.

  She tried to speak but he held up an imperative hand.

  "Don’t say a word," he hissed from between clenched teeth. "I don’t want to hear it. I’m the fool. I thought you were different."

  He leaned past her and picked up the check from the desk and thrust it down the front of her gaping bra.

  "I’ll have a second installment tonight."

  A humiliated tide of crimson swept over her whole body, up her neck and into her face.

  Struggling to summon what little dignity she still possessed, she slid off the desk and straightened her skirt.

  Her hands shook as she hooked her bra and buttoned her blouse. With one sweeping movement she raked a hand through her hair and swept the mass over one shoulder, stooped and picked up her purse and on unsteady legs walked toward the door, stepping over her discarded panties.

  She had her hand on the door knob when he spoke.

  "Victoria—"

  She looked back over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised in question. For long silent moments their gazes clashed.

  She lifted her chin. Pride was all she had left.

  "Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear."

  The tide of crimson that swept up his face should have pleased her, but she discovered it only increased the lost emptiness that threatened to consume her.

  Not until she was clear of his office did anger and misery surface.

  She’d known Keir would deeply resent her asking for money but never had she expected such an extreme reaction.

  As she walked the wind caught her unrestrained hair, blowing it across her face. With a frustrated sigh, she pushed it from her face, grimacing as it caught on her lips.

  A sandwich board on the footpath caught her attention and in that split second, she made a decision and walked inside.

  Luck was on her side.

  "We have a cancelled appointment. Would madam like to step through now?"

  For one moment Victoria hesitated then, with grim resolution, took this as a sign.

  It was time.

  Time she cast aside foolish dreams and started over.

  Without trust, she had no future with Keir

  Keir lifted a shaking hand.

  The click of the door shutting firmly behind Victoria made him swear, a low succinct oath blistered the air. He closed his eyes but Victoria’s shattered expression burned into the inside of his eyelids.

  The silence mocked him.

  With a frustrated oath, he went to the window and leaned his burning face on the glass, but it never cooled his roiling emotions, shame, anger, betrayal, disillusionment.

  Eventually the red tide of rage subsided.

  Twice in his life a similar rage consumed him. When he discovered his mother was still living and when—he cut the thought off, that wound too raw to examine.

  And I'm taking the coward’s way out.

  This time he’d expended his rage on Victoria. What the hell had come over him to treat her like some two bit whore?

  Conscience flayed him alive.

  He walked back to his desk and saw her discarded panties.

  He bent and picked them up with shaking hands, the scrap of satin and lace, a stain on his honor.

  Icy dread clawed at his gut.

  This burst of temper could have the very worst kind of consequence. It could cost him Victoria and Connor.

  He raked an agitated hand through his hair. How could he contemplate a life without them? Their warmth and laughter fed his hungry soul. Cold sweat beaded his brow. Tension rippled, settling in his gut like great bloody boulders.

  In a moment of clear perspicacity, he knew that unless he faced the issues from his past, nothing was more certain, he would lose the two people who meant the most in the world to him.

  Why did Victoria want ten thousand dollars?

  That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question.

  Now his temper had cooled, he realized she was in trouble, some deep kind of trouble, and she'd some to him for help.

  And he'd treated her in the worst possible way.

  And burgeoning worry increased his panic.

  Inaction wasn’t an option. He strode back to his desk and picked up the phone and punched out a number he rarely called.

  Now it was imperative he asked the questions he needed answered.

  Unless you ask the right questions, you'll never get the right answers. Dan Sinclair's words were a hollow taunt. He should have taken the old man's advice much earlier.

  "Donovan."

  "Dad? It's Keir. I need to see you."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The absence of the usual press contingent was the first thing to grab Keir’s attention when he reached Dunstan.

  The second was an unfamiliar car parked in the forecourt.

  Damn! He muttered under his breath.

  He didn’t want to face visitors before he had a chance to talk to Victoria. He pulled into the garage, parked then rapidly mounted the stairs not waiting for the lift.

  Apprehension coiled his innards and great boulders sat in his gut. Was it even possible to make amends?

  Fear and something very close to despair threatened to bring him to his knees. Keir knew he couldn’t blame Victoria if she never spoke to him again.

  Since leaving Darkhaven, that fear threatened to swallow him whole.

  For the first time in his adult life he was very much afraid he would not be able to correct an appalling mistake. He inhaled a sharp hurting breath and gathering courage, opened the door into the gallery overlooking the family room.

  Shock stilled his breath.

  Elizabeth Ellison sat serenely on a sofa reading to Connor. She looked up as she heard his footstep, her expression wary and nervous.

  She did not look overjoyed to see him.

  Can I blame her? After the way I’ve treated her in the past?

  "Mother?" She was the very last person he expected to see. He lifted a hand to his chin, acutely aware of Garth Ellison standing behind his wife, his stance radiating tension. "This is a surprise."

  And that was the understatement of the century.

  His mother had never once visited him. And, judging by her expression, she wasn't at all sure of her welcome now.

  "Daddy!" Connor tore across the room and hurled himself into his father’s arms. "I got a new granny? I got three grannies now. Granny Daphne, Granny Muriel and Granny Elizabeth."

  Keir scooped him into a bear hug, focusing on his son as he attempted to regain some of his legendary calm.

  As if today’s revelations weren’t enough to contend with, he had to face this unexpected visit with another
woman he'd grievously wronged.

  He did not need this.

  "Now fancy that. Three grannies. Aren’t you a lucky one," he murmured, his voice husky with strain. "I need to talk to your granny, okay tiger?"

  "Okay." Connor raced off all exuberant energy.

  Walking far more sedately, Keir followed him and held out a hand to his stepfather. The man shook it but remained wary.

  And with very good cause.

  Shame scorched him as he remembered some of the names and accusations he’d flung at the nervous woman facing him.

  "Ellison." They shook hands, the tension between them palpable. The older man’s grip an unmistakable warning, don’t do or say anything to hurt your mother.

  "Hello Mother," he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

  "Keir." Elizabeth stood and held out a hand, voice shaky with apprehension, eyes wary. "Connor’s a lovely child and so like you at that age."

  How did she know that? As far as he knew he’d not seen his mother since he was four. He frowned in question.

  "So I’ve been told," his voice was husky with strain as he held her shoulders and looked into her face.

  "I’m so damned sorry." The words were torn from him. "I’m so sorry for hurting you. You didn’t deserve it."

  Her lovely throat worked as she swallowed and he knew she was battling emotions.

  "It was never your fault, my darling. I’ve always known and understood that," she whispered, her face crumpling. "I could only watch you grow up from a safe distance. But there was never a day when I didn’t miss you, Seth."

  "Don’t call me that. Using that name has caused me a power of grief," he managed a shaky chuckle.

  "So I’ve learned." She lifted a hand to wipe away tears.

  Keir, overcome with emotion, pulled her into a tight hug.

  She buried her face in his shoulder and he discovered himself fighting tears. He sucked in a deep breath, and wrapped in her warm, scented embrace, memory warmed the chill place in his soul.

  A place so empty it had ached all his life.

  He knew, deep in his heart, that as a child he’d been held and rocked and loved by this woman. A gaping wound in his soul slowly closed and allowed healing to start.