Passionate Kisses

by Various

  In the aftermath of our lovemaking, I make plans for our future. As soon as the SouthWind deal closes, I’ll turn over the reins of the company to my cousin, William, and move to Washington, D.C. to be close to Elizabeth. That dream lasts less than twenty four hours. Until Monday morning when everything crashes down on me.

  Chapter 30

  AS SOON AS THE MORNING SESSION BEGINS, Thomas Carrey announces a major change to the deal—an increase of eighty million dollars to the asking price. A more thorough examination of the patents attached to the assets revealed they are more valuable than previously thought, he explains. As proof, he provides copies of documents which detail the cost of developing the patents and the projected revenue increase. Documents I’m infinitely familiar with, since my handwritten comments appear in the margins.

  For a few moments I find it difficult to breathe. These are copies of the documents I’d spread over the table in the Park Suite. Going by the non-crisp edges, the images were taken with a camera phone.

  Only one person could have taken such photos—Elizabeth.

  Her perfidy shreds my soul. She must have snapped the images while I showered. And to think I joked about her straightening the papers, not knowing she’d already betrayed me. Not hard to understand what drove her to do such a thing. From the beginning, I’ve known of her ambition to become a corporate attorney with Smith Cannon. She’s certainly proved her worth to the firm. By exploiting my attraction to her, she entered my inner sanctum and obtained the information she needed to sweeten the deal for their client.

  What a fool I’ve been.

  A lump clogs my throat, but not by an eyelash do I reveal my emotions. Not to Carrey and certainly not to her. “We’ll need to discuss this. May I suggest we suspend negotiations for the rest of the day and reconvene tomorrow?”

  “Of course. Whatever you need.” Thomas Carrey’s quick to agree.

  The Storm Industries’ team adjourns to our private conference room in the hotel where we hash out the numbers. Eighty million dollars is a fair assessment of the value of the patents which will allow us to build turbines less susceptible to the vagaries of the weather.

  Since I’m certain Carrey will demand at least half that amount in cash, the challenge becomes obtaining the necessary financing. I don’t want to impact Storm Industries’ bottom line so the money will have to come out of my personal assets. But I’m not liquid. No one has eighty million dollars in cash lying around. So the capital must come from some other source. I will need to mortgage The Brighton.

  Since I don’t have exclusive rights to it—my siblings co-own it along with me—I’ll need their approval. That night, I arrange a dinner at the penthouse where I explain the need for ready cash. Without hesitation, they agree. They implicitly trust me to do what’s best for Storm Industries, for the family, for them.

  A phone call to my bank takes care of the transaction. As far as the institution is concerned, it’s a no-brainer. My siblings and I have stellar credit. And The Brighton is one of the hottest real estate properties in London.

  Once the money’s secured, my thoughts turn back to Elizabeth. When we parted on Sunday, she did not suggest we stay away from each other, as she did the previous week. So I’m not surprised when on Tuesday, she buzzes, saying she wants to discuss something with me.

  Of course she does. She probably wants to know if I have a problem with the higher asking price. I fob her off, telling her I have a previous engagement. Let her think of that what she will.

  Tormented by dreams of her lush body, her tight sheath, her luscious scent, I toss and turn through the night. Even a quick hand job fails to cure my craving for her. Wednesday morning, when both teams reconvene, I manage to act halfway normal until she walks up to me during the coffee break.

  Shadows lurk deep in her red-rimmed eyes. Is she suffering as much as I am? Does she regret her betrayal?

  “Gabriel, I need to talk to you. Can we meet tonight?”

  “Sorry. I have an appointment I can’t break.” With a bottle of scotch. At my penthouse. I’ll be damned if I stay at the hotel where temptation lies only an elevator ride away.

  Her breath hitches. “Another one?”

  “Yes. We can talk on Friday.” Her last day before she departs for the states. That night I’ll invite her to my suite for dinner and confront her with her perfidy. Somehow between now and then, I’ll need to find the strength to bid her a final goodbye.

  As it turns out, my plans are derailed. By the Countess. Without my consent, she’s arranged a dinner party at the family’s London townhouse to celebrate the success of the deal. She’s invited the Smith Cannon team along with my siblings and other guests. What does she have up her sleeve?

  Friday at three, I sign the Letter of Intent. During the coming months, Storm Industries will perform due diligence on the SouthWind assets. Unless something irregular surfaces, we’re locked into the transaction which must close by September 30. For all intents and purposes, we’re done with the negotiating phase.

  After everyone shakes hands all around, I give my team the rest of the day off. They’ve worked hard and deserve a little R&R with their families. Having checked out of the hotel the day before, I head for the penthouse where I proceed to down half a bottle of scotch. By the time I arrive at my family’s mansion, I’m barely upright, having kissed sober goodbye two hours before. Still, I manage to hold it together while we welcome the Duke of Marchstone and Lady Melissande. The Duchess is incapacitated and sends her regrets.

  When Elizabeth arrives, with Mrs. Collins by her side, she nods at my mother, but exchanges heartfelt hugs and kisses with both Brianna and Royce. To me she turns bruised eyes. She’s been crying, that much is apparent.

  During dinner, I arrange for her to be seated between my siblings far away from me. I don’t trust myself not to betray my emotions if she were close to me.

  After dessert is served, our footmen stream into the dining room with celebratory champagne, something I arranged. With the flutes filled, I stand up. “Today we came to terms on the SouthWind deal. I want to thank Thomas Carrey and the entire Smith Cannon team for their willingness to travel to London and the professionalism with which they handled the negotiations. Here’s to you.” I lift my glass in a toast, and a polite round of applause circles the room.

  When I retake my seat, I turn to Lady Melissande and, with a grin, whisper an inanity in her ear about the weather. I’m being a bastard, I know. My action hints at a close connection between her and me. When I squeeze her hand. Bri and Royce trade confused glances. My mother smiles in triumph.

  Elizabeth’s face struggles to hide her devastation. Her lips tremble, and even though tears swim in her eyes, she doesn’t allow a single drop to fall. Her suffering does not provide me with the satisfaction I seek, but with a stabbing pain in my heart.

  As soon as the meal ends, my mother announces she has a special treat for us, a piano concert by a well-known artist. As our guests stand, Elizabeth bolts, probably to the powder room where she can regain her composure. For the moment, I have to play along with the Countess’s plans and follow our guests to the music room. But when the audience takes their seats, I’ll go after Elizabeth so we can have it out in the library.

  But before I execute my plan, I’m stopped cold by Royce, who corners me by the drawn drapes. “What the fuck, Gabe?”

  Bri’s not far behind. “Why are you giving Elizabeth the cold shoulder?” Her sweet smile covers up the fire sparking in her eyes.“And why are you acting that way with Mel? You don’t give two hoots about her.” Mel, her nickname for Melissande. They’ve known each other since they were children.

  I gulp down the last of the champagne and grab another flute from a passing waiter. “Elizabeth was a passing fancy, nothing more.”

  “Bullcrap.” Bri spits out. “I saw the way you looked at her. At your penthouse. At Winterleagh. You’re lying. The question is why.”

  “What I choose to do, or not do, is none of you
r business. Now if you’ll excuse me.” I start to rise, but just then the pianist plops down on the piano bench. If I try to slip out of the room now, I’ll call attention to myself, so I suffer through the excruciating piece he’s chosen, an étude, one designed to strengthen the fingers of the left hand and will take at least five minutes to play. I gnash my teeth and wait for the composition to end.

  Chapter 31

  Elizabeth

  HIDING IN A POWDER ROOM is not something I do. If I have a problem, I face it head on. But I couldn’t take another minute of Gabriel gazing at Lady Melissande as if he couldn’t wait to touch her, taste her, ravish her. All the things he did with me a mere five days ago.

  What changed? I have no idea. All I know is he went from hot to cold, from making love to not returning my calls, refusing to meet with me, playing me. God, how could I have been such a fool. I’ve been nothing more than another notch on his player belt. Like an idiot I bought into his facile charm, his killer grin. Those words he whispered in the dark about needing me? Lies. All of them. But like the idiot I am, I fell for them. Worse than that, I fell in love with him.

  Good thing I never told him about the baby. If I had, God only knows what he would have done. Probably offered to pay me off for my silence. After all, he can’t have a bastard complicating his plans to marry a duke’s daughter, can he? No doubt in my mind where he’s headed. Like calls to like after all. She’s beautiful, caring, refined. She’ll make him the perfect wife.

  With trembling hands, I repair my makeup, brush my hair, smear a little—a lot—of concealer under my eyes. A glance in the mirror tells me, even after all my efforts, I still look like something the cat dragged in. The hell with it. I scoop all my cosmetics, shove them into my clutch. If anybody notices my pale face, I’ll say I’m not feeling well. It’s the truth after all. And then I’ll head back to the hotel and pack my bags while trying hard not to cry over the lying bastard.

  I firm up my resolution and stride toward the door when it flies open. To my surprise, the Countess steps in and snaps the lock.

  “Ms. Watson.” She spits out through clenched teeth like my name leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

  I do the same. “Lady Winterleagh. If you’ll excuse me.” I go for the handle. When she blocks my path. I step back to avoid a collision. What does she want?

  “Please take a seat.” She points to one of the chairs. The Egyptian-styled powder room contains a beveled mirror, a lighted sconce on each side, a gold marble counter with a sink and two gilded arm chairs adorned with Egyptian motifs, clawed feet and lion’s heads. The commode, located behind a door, looks like an actual throne. Whoever designed this bathroom possessed either a great sense of humor, or an overweening sense of self importance.

  Which is neither here nor there at the moment. I want nothing more than out, but Gabriel’s mother is determined to talk to me. So I sit.

  The countess does the same in the chair opposite me. “I’ve been studying you.”

  I clutch my purse against me. “Have you?”

  “You and I are a lot alike.”

  Not hardly. “I’m nothing like you.” I spit out.

  “On the contrary. You know when to take advantage of an opportunity, such as when Ainsley became attracted to you. And you know when to cut your losses, as well.”

  She’s right about me making things happen given half a chance, but not about Gabriel. I never thought of him as an ‘opportunity’. “How did you learn that about me?”

  “Come, Ms. Watson. Do you honestly believe I wasn’t aware of your connection to my son? I know you visited his penthouse. A rarity. He never invites women to The Brighton. And you spent time together in his hotel suite.”

  How the hell does she know?

  She waves a hand in the air. “Servants, bellboys. They can be so easily bought off.”

  I grow sick to my stomach at the thought we were spied upon.

  “You appear ill. Was the meal not to your liking?” Her lips twist into a small smile. The kind the mean girls in high school used to flash at me. She’s relishing my upset.

  I hitch my chin higher. “The food was fine.”

  “Then it must be all the attention Ainsley’s been paying to Lady Melissande.”

  “Where Gabriel’s interests lie is none of my concern.”

  She chuckles. “You need to master the art of lying, Ms. Watson. Your flushed cheeks give you away.”

  I’ve had enough of her BS. If I don’t get out of her sight, I’m going to be sick. “What do you want, Lady Winterleagh?”

  “Finesse is not your strong suit, is it? Very well. Let’s get to it, shall we? You’re pregnant with my son’s child.”

  I jerk. Just how the hell does she know?

  “Your pre-natal vitamins were in full view at Winterleagh. Servants again. You’ll need to be more clever than that to hide something from me.” Propping her chin on her hand, she rubs her ruby lips with her thumb. “If Ainsley were to find out, he might do something stupid.”

  “Such as?”

  “Marry you, to make the child legitimate.” She stands up, paces the thick rug. “And I can’t have the blood of a whore flowing through my grandson’s veins.”

  When an urge to hit her clenches my fists, I hold them tight against me to keep from striking her. “I’m not a ... prostitute.” I choke out the word.

  “Maybe you’re not, but your mother was.”

  My breath hisses. “My records were court-sealed.”

  “A small bribe to the right file clerk unsealed them. Some people will do anything for money. How about you? I’ll pay you ten million dollars to disappear. If you can make the baby disappear as well, I’ll add another ten.”

  My stomach lurches, and I leap to my feet. I have to get out of her sight before I spew my stomach’s contents on the beautiful rug. “You’re a monster.”

  “Sticks and stones, Ms. Watson. And here I thought you were a realist like me.”

  I reach for the door, but she stops me with her words. “If you leave now, I will destroy him.”

  I drop my head into my hands and breathe deeply. I shouldn’t care what happens to him. Not after the way he’s treated me. And yet, I do.

  I turn back to her. “What do you want from me?”

  She goes back to the chair, gestures to the other one. “Sit, and I will tell you.”

  Once again, I take the seat across from her.

  “He told you the sad tale of his tutor, Mr. Snipes. How he fell to his death. The inquest ruled it an accident. It wasn’t. Someone pushed him.” Her eyes shine bright with malicious glee. “And I know who.”

  I don’t ask. She will tell me soon enough.

  “His father. The Earl of Winterleagh. Can you imagine the scandal if this gets out?” She claps her hands as if she would relish such a thing. “Why, the public would eat this up for months. The family’s reputation would be tarnished beyond repair. They might even strip the title from him.”

  Although I would never condone murder, I understand why the earl killed the tutor. By killing the sadistic monster, instead of turning him over to the law, the earl avoided implicating his wife in the crime. But . . . “You kept silent all these years. Why bring it out now? Such a revelation would destroy your husband, your family.”

  “You think I care about that randy old goat? Let him rot in jail. And my children? They’re no good to me.” She snaps out. “The only member of this family I cared about lies in a cold grave. Edward, my son.”

  “Gabriel’s your son, too. Why do you hate him so much?”

  She dismisses him with a wave of her hand. “He’s just like his father. Charming, good-looking, a womanizer. I knew about his women.”

  “His father, you mean?”

  “Yes, but I wanted the title, and unfortunately, he came along with it. Still, I thought I could handle my husband’s infidelity. I couldn’t. On our wedding day, I found him in bed with a common whore. He didn’t even have the decency to wait until after th
e ceremony. So I cut him off. No sex, no money. Only when he toed the line, did I give him the son he craved, Gabriel. And then I gave birth to the son of my heart, Edward.”

  She folds into herself as tears shimmer in her eyes. “He was the sweetest boy, and he loved me dearly, the only one of my children who did.”

  As she talks about Edward, I see the caring mother she once must have been instead of the monster she is now.

  Like quicksilver, her mood shifts as her lips curl with disdain. “But I was stuck with Gabriel as the heir, and he was stubborn and rebellious. Wouldn’t listen to me, so I made him pay.” A maniacal light shines in her eyes.

  Why, she’s quite mad. Why didn’t I see this before? No doubt in my mind she’ll do as she says. She will destroy Gabriel and the entire family, unless I do what she wants. “So you punished him.”

  “Yes. But no matter what I did, he disobeyed. And then one school holiday he said he was going to become a concert pianist. Can you imagine?” She chokes out a mirthless laugh. “By that time, the family’s fortune had dwindled. The millions of dollars I once thought would be enough weren’t, eaten up by castle finances and my husband’s excesses. He’d figured out a way to get around the trust my father established, you see. Something had to be done. And Gabriel, with his quick, agile mind, would be our salvation. So I broke him once and for all.”

  “You injured his left hand so he couldn’t play the piano.”

  Her chin goes up and down, like this was something that had to be done. “I threatened to do worse to Brianna and Royce if he didn’t do as I said. He obeyed me after that.” For a moment, a gleeful smile brushes her lips, but then her mouth twists into a hideous grin. “But I can’t control him anymore. He’s got all the power now, not me. Not that I care about much. Not Storm Industries, not the family name, them.”

  I wish I could walk away from this tale of power and betrayal and leave them to their own devices, but I can’t. I have to stop her from destroying Gabriel. “But you do care about something. Something that involves me.”