Damn you, Maceo … if you think I could hurt that beautiful girl … your beautiful girl …
He dropped his head into his hands. I don’t know, I don’t know. Did I try and kill her? Was it something I blanked out? Why was everyone else so convinced he’d done it— everyone apart from the police? And Netta. Yes, Netta thought he was innocent.
But I don’t know. Alex despaired; there had been times when he had experienced such violent jealousy over Maceo and his betrayal with Viola, only to then meet Ori. Why did Maceo deserve all the good luck?
“Fuck you, Bartoli. Fuck you!’ He threw his glass against the wall and gave a feral howl of rage.
“Alex?”
He spun around to see a shocked looking Netta watching him. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough. Alex, this has to stop. You need to stop drinking; you need to talk to Maceo …”
“Why the fuck should I? He won, Netta, he won everything. She is everything …”
“Alex!’
Alex stopped ranting, shocked by Netta screaming at him. She came to him, her entire body trembling. “This is not healthy, Alex. This, this is why he thinks you stabbed Ori. The old if I can’t have her’ thing. Ori is not a possession, Alex Milland. She chooses to be with the man she loves, Maceo. Grow up and deal with it before you do something you regret.”
Alex stared at her for a second and then he crumbled. “God … god, Netta …”
He slumped into his chair, his face in his hands. Netta, still reeling from his outburst, hesitated before sitting on the arm of his chair and putting her hand on his shoulder.
She made him coffee and put him to bed. Alex passed out almost immediately, and the sudden silence made Netta feel lonely and sad. She tried to talk herself out of crying but when Seth arrived, past midnight, and she saw his questioning face, she burst into tears.
Seth let her cry herself out. Then, as she wiped her eyes, she told him about what had happened. Seth listened, then kissed her forehead as she snuggled into his arms.
“Sweetheart, I think we have to face the fact that Alex needs help. Serious professional help.”
Netta was quiet for a time. “Seth … I am beginning to think that ….”
“He might have done it?” Seth finished, and she nodded, tears in her eyes.
“If he did, then he wasn’t in his right mind, Netta. We need to get him help first, and then we’ll deal with the repercussions of what happened in Italy.”
Netta closed her eyes. “Seth … what would I do without you?”
“You’ll never have to know, darling.”
Later, after she and Seth had gone to bed, after they made love and Seth was asleep, Netta lay awake. After a few minutes, she got up and went to grab a glass of milk from the kitchen.
She sighed. Maybe Seth was right. Alex needed help, badly. His reaction tonight about Ori … she would talk to him, she decided, and ask him to seek help. She poured the rest of her drink down the sink and padded back to the bedroom. Sliding underneath the covers, she curled herself around Seth’s sleeping form and closed her eyes.
Ori was walking now, tentatively working with the new clinic’s people. “You were lucky that your spine wasn’t compromised,” they told her, but every step was agony. Still, the sooner she could prove to them that she was getting better, the sooner she could leave and go home.
Go home to my husband, she grinned to herself, looking at the simple white gold band on her ring finger.
Maceo had kept his promise; they had married in a simple ceremony in the chapel of the hospital with Lucia as their—weeping—witness. Simple vows, but the love between them had radiated throughout.
“Shame we have to put off our wedding night,” she grumbled later, as Maceo helped her back into bed. He grinned.
“Believe me, mio caro, I too am looking forward to the day I can take this beautiful body to bed.”
Ori giggled at his face. “You’re talking about your own body there, aren’t you?”
Maceo laughed. “Well, of course. No, I mean this body,” and he ran his hand up her inner thigh, so close to her sex that she sighed happily.
“Higher,.” she said, gazing into his eyes, and smiling, Maceo began to caress her, his thumb stroking her clit through her panties, then slipping inside them to stroke her. Ori wriggled happily, wincing when she pulled on her abdomen.
“Sssh, mio amore, just lay back and let your husband take care of things.” His voice was a husky whisper. Ori closed her eyes and let Maceo stroke her into a mellow orgasm, endorphins flooding her system.
Afterward, they lay together on her bed and slept, determined to spend their wedding night close.
Now, Ori reflected on everything that had happened in the last year. So much pain, but so much joy. New friends, old enemies—new enemies. She thought about Alex; unlike Maceo, she still wasn’t convinced that he was her attacker. She kept returning to the killer’s kiss. Alex had kissed her before, and she couldn’t quite reconcile the two. It simply hadn’t felt the same.
You’ll make yourself crazy thinking like that. She shook her head. Maceo had kept Cassie’s murder from her for weeks, and it was only when Lucia let it slip that she had been shocked to find out about it. Maceo hadn’t been pleased and had dismissed Ori’s questions.
“No one knows who she was meeting that night; whoever it was who killed her,” Maceo said, had done them all a favor. Ori was a little shocked at his callousness, but when she asked Lucia about it, Lucia was equally hard.
“She came to here to find out if you were dead, Ori. She was hopeful. She was never your friend. She probably just got caught up with the wrong guy.”
But it bugged Ori. What if Cassie had known who stabbed Ori? Or was working with him?
She asked the questions of her psychiatrist, but the doctor was more interested in how Ori herself was dealing with the trauma of being an almost-murder victim.
“I’m fine,.” she told him. “I’ve accepted it.”
The psychiatrist didn’t seem convinced. “You’ve been through more this year than most do in a lifetime. Give yourself time.”
Now Ori was desperate to get back to her life. She felt as if she could barely remember her home, her home with Maceo, their private hideaway. Too many people were in and out of her life here. She knew Maceo felt it too. She asked the doctor when she would be released, and they prevaricated until she thought she might break and yell at them. Ori knew her injuries would take months, years, to completely recover from but she was getting antsy. She asked Lucia to bring her some work, and although Maceo objected, she told him firmly that she was going to do it regardless. It made her feel as if things were settling back to normal.
She also missed Seth’s company. In a strange way, he felt like an older brother, a confidante, someone she could tell anything to. He emailed her from Montreal with funny stories and pictures, and Ori knew Maceo was grateful to his friend.
Three weeks after she had transferred to the Venice clinic, the doctors gave her the good news; she could be discharged. Ori was overjoyed, and when Maceo came to pick her up, she threw herself into his arms.
“Now, don’t get carried away,” the doctor warned, grinning. “You’re still healing, so just take it easy.”
Ori rolled her eyes, but Maceo nodded, taking the doctor’s words seriously. Ori sighed. “Yes, but how long before we can …?.”
The doctor smothered a grin. “You’re good to, um, go—if you take things slowly.”
Maceo was still laughing as he drove her home. “You are insatiable.” Ori was grinning.
“I want to have sex with my husband; is that so bad?”
“Not bad, not bad at all,” Maceo winked at her.
The apartment did feel strange, but Ori couldn’t care less. She dragged Maceo into the bedroom and started to pull his clothes off. Maceo took her by the shoulders. ’We’re doing this slow, okay?”
She grumbled, but Maceo insisted, and to his cred
it, he made it one of the most sensual experiences of her life. Burying his face in her sex, his tongue lashing around her clit then plunging deep into her, he made sure she was entirely ready for him when his rock-hard cock plunged into her. Ori moaned happily as they began to make love slowly, Maceo being careful not to strain her tender muscles. They drove each other to orgasm and then collapsed happily.
“At last,” Ori breathed, and felt Maceo’s deep laugh rumble through his chest.
“I know what you mean. Bella, nothing will ever separate us again, I swear it.”
“Agreed. Agreed times infinity,” she smiled up at him. “I love you, Mr. Bartoli.”
“Ti amo, Ori, ti amo.”
Kate told her employer that she was leaving and he nodded sadly. “I thought when you met Mr. Duarte that this might happen.
Kate looked upset. “I’m sorry, Gerry, but we just decided to live together in Buenos Aires. I’ve been scouting positions down there; it’s just easier for me to move than Lisander.”
“I know,” Gerry said with a smile, “and please don’t apologize for being happy. It’s too rare in this world.”
She told Lisander over dinner. “I will really miss Gerry and everyone.”
Lisander took her hand. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate the sacrifice you’re making. One day, I promise, the roles will be reversed.”
She smiled. “As long as I’m with you, I don’t care.”
They chatted casually about the logistics of moving her life down to Argentina then went to bed and made love. Afterward, Kate snuggled into his arms. “Did you speak to Alex?”
Lisander sighed. “He’s a mess. Netta told me he’s seeking help, but it’ll be a long road. Whether or not we’ll ever find who tried to kill Ori, I don’t know.”
Kate propped herself up on her elbow. “Did you check the website today?”
Lisander shook his head. “It’s gone,” Kate told him, and watched his eyes widen.
“Gone?”
“The police called me today. I’d put in a query about tracing it, but they told me they were unable to help because it’s gone. Wiped from the net, every trace. Funny that should happen just as Alex seeks help, don’t you think?”
Lisander was silent, but met her gaze. Kate could see the pain in his eyes, and she stroked his face.
“I’m sorry, my love. I know you didn’t want to think of him like that.”
Lisander closed his eyes and pulled her closer, and they held each other for the rest of the night.
Netta finished work and left her studio just after five. She had rented the small room in the local town, a few minutes from Alex’s place in Vermont so she could stay with him and keep him steady.
The night was dark and cold, and she was glad when she arrived home. No lights were on, which she found strange.
Pushing open the front door, she called out for Alex and got no reply. She walked through the dark house calling for him, but found no answer. She could see the light on in the drawing room at the end of the corridor and walked towards it, but as she pushed the door open and saw what was inside, she gasped in horror— just as a hand with a cloth soaked in chemicals was clamped over her nose and mouth.
Just before she passed out, she finally realized the truth about Alex …
Shiloh had returned to Africa and to her work, but she knew her heart lay in Paris with Benoit. Regretfully, she gave notice and headed back to France, eager to start their life together. Benoit was overjoyed. Their daughter was growing and healthy, and he found himself preoccupied with his new life. He began to make changes at work, inspired by Shiloh’s passion for environmentalism, and although his colleagues chafed a little, they soon discovered that their work and social responsibility could work to their advantage.
Everything was working out great. There was just one loose end as far as Benoit was concerned. Marcella.
Since everything had happened, he could not stop thinking about that night when Shiloh had left and he had turned to Marcella. The guilt he felt over how he had treated both women was eating him alive—and there was the fear that Marcella, out of jealousy, could still tell Shiloh what had happened.
He called Marcella, and she invited him to coffee at her place. Benoit wondered at the sense of going to her place but accepted anyway.
Marcella opened the door to him, and to his relief, her smile was friendly but not malicious. “It’s good to see you, Benoit.”
“You look stunning, Marcella.” She was wearing a dark red dress, her brown hair gathered in an elegant chignon. She inclined her head.
“As do you. Please, come in.”
She made them both coffee, a rich, dark blend, and they chatted idly before Marcella met his gaze. “And how is your lovely Shiloh?”
“She is very well, thanks.”
“And the baby?”
Benoit nodded warily. “Good, um, as far as the scan says, anyway.”
“Do you have it with you?”
He hesitated, his eyes wary. “Really? You want to see it?”
She nodded encouragingly, and he shyly brought his wallet out. He passed the scan to her, watching her face as she took it. She swallowed, then gave a little laugh.
“Okay, well, you’re going to have to show me what end is what.”
He laughed too then and pointed out the fetus, an amorphous thing at the corner of the scan.
Marcella saw his expression change, a sort of awe in his voice. The realization at once made her sad for herself and happy for him.
“It’s a she,” Benoit said, and she saw the love in his eyes.
“You want this child, don’t you?” she asked softly. He nodded, smiling sheepishly.
“I do … I didn’t at first, but then, God, seeing this. That’s my little girl in there.” Bewildered joy. She felt tears pricking her eyes, and he frowned. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “No, don’t be, these are happy tears. I’m honestly happy for you, Benoit.” She looked at the photo again, traced the outline of the fetus. “You’ll be a great father, the very best. I can’t say I’m not a little surprised by the turn of events, but I really do congratulate you. You found her. You found the one.”
“Like you told me to,” he said gently, and she nodded.
“I did. And I’m sorry about before, Benoit. I admit I was jealous. Very jealous.” She laughed softly. “I had thought our arrangement would carry on forever. But it was not to be. I really do wish you and Shiloh a very happy life. And don’t worry—our little … meeting … will never be mentioned by me again.”
Benoit walked back to his office slowly. Despite his gratitude at Marcella’s words, he still felt uneasy. He tried to pin down why; Shiloh was back in Paris and healthy; they were happy and living together was working out; the baby was good … so why did he feel like something bad was about to happen?
Shiloh noticed his strange mood when he came home from work and at first he avoided her questions, but then asked her to sit with him. Marcella’s promise to keep their assignation a secret was good—but he could not start his new life with Shiloh with a lie.
Haltingly, he told her about the night she had left for Africa, how he had gone to Marcella just to talk but had, in fact, slept with her. Shiloh listened, her face pale. After he finished, he studied her reaction.
“Shiloh? You know I would never cheat on you. Never. That night … I don’t know what happened. I was mixed up, stupid. I wanted you to know because I want to be totally honest with you and that’s new to me. I don’t usually let myself become open to anyone.”
Shiloh nodded slowly. “Thank you for telling me. I just need some time to process it.”
“Of course.”
They lay side by side in bed that night, both of them awake until Shiloh suddenly turned to him and rested her head on his chest. Benoit felt a sudden rush of relief, and he wrapped his arms around her, thinking that everything was good and he could relax.
He had no idea that he would soon rece
ive some of the worst news of his life.
Netta was tied to the chair, shivering and terrified, but determined not to show him how scared she was. He’d stripped her down to her underwear now, and his hands roamed freely over her skin.
“So soft,” he cooed in a sing-song voice, almost tender. She could almost believe him to be that caring—if it wasn’t for the crossbow in his other hand. He saw her looking at him and grinned. He brought it up and leveled it at her. Point blank.
“Tell me you love me,” he said tenderly, and she looked him straight in the eye.
“No.” Her voice was strong and defiant.
He smiled. “What a waste of such beauty,” he said, and fired the bolt deep into her body.
The pain was unimaginable. Netta screamed as the bolt sank deep into her flesh, her blood beginning to flow.
“Tell me you love me …”
Panting for air, she looked up at him, her hatred radiating from her. “No. You are not worthy of anyone’s love. Not Viola’s. Not Ori’s. Not mine.”
He smiled. “Viola’s dead. Ori will be dead soon. You will be dead even sooner.”
Netta, despite her fear, smirked. “Poor little lonely boy. You’re pathetic.”
That got him. He ripped the bolt from her and used it as a knife, driving it again and again into her soft flesh. Netta felt her life slipping away from her as the blackness loomed.
He pushed the chair she was strapped to onto the floor, and Netta struggled to take one, two, three more breaths, and then there was just emptiness.
Kate and Lisander were woken by a terrific banging on Kate’s apartment door. Lisander opened it to see Seth, his usual tall frame bent over with grief, his eyes haunted.
“Seth … brother, what is it?”
Kate watched as Lisander pulled Seth into the apartment and walked him to the couch. Seth almost fell down on it. Kate and Lisander shared a look of concern.
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