by Lisa Bilbrey
“I did,” she said, trying to sound confident, but had she? Or had her imagination been playing tricks on her again.
“Be safe, Elle, all right?”
Once more she nodded. After Samuel left, she closed the door to her office, bracing her hands on the cool wood. Was he right? Was she pushing her lovers, her daughters away?
—FA—
Just after lunch, Elle was once again seated at her desk, working on yet another budget report when the door to her office opened. Her instinct was to be annoyed, because she had work to do, but the look on Callum, Derek, Sadie, and Samuel’s faces told her it was important — and very bad.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, starting to stand, but stopped when Sadie turned into Derek’s arms and began to sob. He wasn’t even supposed to be back at work yet, so the fact that he was standing inside her office spoke volumes. “What the fuck is wrong?”
“I . . .” Callum cleared his throat and walked up in front of her desk and dropped a manila envelope on top. “This, um, this was just delivered.”
Elle picked up the envelope and flipped it over, but there wasn’t a return address. Just Derek, Callum, and Sadie’s names. Prying the flap back, she dumped the contents onto her desk, feeling the air leave her lungs.
Inside the envelope had been dozens of pictures of her at work, at the girls’ school, outside the super market, at the park, and various restaurants. On the back of each photograph were dates starting more than a year ago to as recent as that morning when she arrived at the office.
“Who delivered this?” she asked, her voice eerily calm.
“It was sent by courier,” Derek said, his arms protecting Sadie.
Elle shifted her eyes from the pictures to him. “Who was the courier?”
“Elle,” he said, shaking his head.
“WHO!” she snarled, standing up.
“Kenny,” he said. “It was Kenny, the kid who used to work here. Said someone paid him fifty bucks to deliver it personally.”
“A woman?” she asked.
“No,” Derek said, quietly. “A man, around our age, he said. “Dark hair, eyes, lots of tattoos.”
Elle spread the photos out in front of her again. They were a message, of course. They were watching her. Whoever was after her was watching her, watching the girls. They were everywhere.
“Elle,” Callum said, but when her computer monitor started flashing on and off, everyone’s attention was pulled to it.
Seconds later, a mirage of photos flashed across her screen, but instead of being the ones that were scattered on her desk, these were pictures of her in various sexual positions and as naked as the day she was born.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered as the screen went dark and a message scrolled across in large white letters: Now everyone has seen you for the whore you are.
“Step away from the computer,” Samuel ordered as he pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. “I’m calling the . . .”
But he trailed off as he stared at his phone, his mouth gaping open.
“What is it?” Elle asked, standing up. “Samuel.”
He shifted his eyes back to her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“Why are you sorry?” she asked, though somewhere in the back of her mind, she already knew. “They sent them to you, too, didn’t they?”
Slowly, Samuel nodded. “Me, and it would seem everyone else.”
“Ev . . . everyone?” Though again, she already knew the answer. Bowling over, she dropped to her knees and grabbed the trashcan, losing the lunch she had just eaten half an hour ago. “Everyone. Every-fucking-one!”
“Elle!” Callum rushed to her side, scooping her into his arms.
“Everyone,” she sobbed. “Everyone, Cal. Everyone!”
“I know, baby, I know,” he murmured.
As she cried, her tears falling without care, her heart shattering, she stayed in Callum’s arms, letting him try to keep her from falling apart. The photographs streamed across her computer screen again and again.
Within minutes, her phone began ringing, her phone alerted her to emails, and people came banging on her office door. She could only imagine their reactions to getting images of their boss laid out like a common prostitute.
In the background, she could hear Samuel calling Detectives Benson and O’Reilly, telling them what had happened. What happened? That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? What happened indeed?
Eleven
“Give me back my doll!” Flora screamed, followed closely by the sound of something heavy falling to the floor.
Sighing, Elle gripped her cane and rushed out of the bathroom, through her bedroom, across the hall, and into her daughters’ bedroom. The two girls were standing on their beds with every article of clothing they owned on the floor and their dolls scattered on top.
“What is going on in here?” Elle asked, kicking aside as much as she could.
“Willow stole my doll!” Flora screamed, her tiny hands curling into fists.
“No, I didn’t,” Willow argued, hugging said doll against her chest. “You said if I let you have my Peppermint Pattie doll, I could have your Vanilla Bean doll. Now, you want to go back on your word. That makes you a liar!”
“I am not a liar,” Flora sobbed and reached once more for her doll, but Willow pulled it back out of reach. “Mommy, make her give it back.”
“You two are giving me a headache.”
Elle snatched the doll from Willow’s arms, who started screaming, “No, no, no!”
“That’s enough,” Elle snapped and both girls immediately stopped.
She wasn’t one to lose her temper, especially not with them, so they knew she was serious. But she was already on edge after everything that had happened over the past week.
Detectives Benson and O’Reilly arrived an hour after Samuel called and took everyone’s statements before they started questioning Elle on the nature of the photographs: Who had taken them? When had they been taken? Why were they taken? Elle hadn’t wanted to admit the who, why, or when’s.
Leo had taken them just a few weeks before he hit her. She’d been working non-stop on her senior project and he kept trying to distract her by touching her. After they had sex, he begged her to let him photograph her. She’d been reluctant, but as always, Leo got his way. He swore to her that he had gotten rid of them, but clearly that was a lie. The question, though, was how her stalker got a hold of them. Leo was still in prison . . . wasn’t he?
“Where’s Vanilla Bean?” Elle asked, her tone sharper than she intended.
“Over there,” Flora whispered, pointing behind the door. Elle turned and walked over, grabbing the doll. The head had been cracked down the middle, which of course explained why Flora didn’t want her.
“Was it already broken when you traded with her, Willow?”
“Yes,” she grumbled, knowing better than to lie.
“That doesn’t seem like a fair deal, does it? You break your doll and then cheat Flora out of hers. Do you think that’s okay?”
“No,” she muttered.
Elle shuffled through the mess and sat on the edge of Willow’s bed, beckoning the girl down to her. “It makes me really sad that you thought it was okay to trick your sister like that. You know better, Willow. You owe Flora an apology.”
Willow bit her lip as she shifted her attention to where Flora stood on her bed. “I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you,” Flora said, sitting on her bed. “If you want, we can share Peppermint.”
“Really?” Willow asked, her eyes widening.
Flora nodded. “She can be both of ours!”
“Okay.”
“Neither of you are getting Peppermint Patty back until this room is cleaned,” Elle said, putting her hand up when they started whining. “No, I’m sorry, but this place is a mess. I’ll give her to Pappy and when you’re done, he will give her back to you. I suggest you don’t waste any time. Understood?”
“Yes, M
ommy,” they said together.
Elle gave them both another look before she cradled the doll against her chest and walked out of the room, finding Sadie leaning against the wall outside of their room. She smirked as she followed Elle into their bathroom.
“So, was the world ending?” Sadie asked, sliding her arm around Elle’s waist as she came up behind her.
“Of course,” Elle scoffed and proceeded to rattle off every little detail about the girls’ argument. “I don’t remember fighting like that with Ivy.”
“Oh, you did,” Sadie scoffed. “I can remember more than once having to calm you down because Ivy would do something that pissed you off.”
“Like?” Elle challenged before applying a fresh coat of gloss to her lips.
“Like when she dented Helina’s car, and instead of telling your mother that she was the one who did it, you were the one grounded for a month. You were furious, and if I remember correctly,” Sadie pressed her lips against the side of Elle’s neck, “I had to eat your pussy to get you to calm down.”
“Had to?” Elle moaned. “Don’t remember ever having to force you to kneel between my legs, lover.”
“Wanted to,” she amended. “Always want to. Then and now.”
“Oy, wives,” Callum called out just moments before he entered the bathroom. He stopped in the doorway, a slow smile tugging against the corners of his lips. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No,” Elle said, while Sadie laughed and said, “Yes!”
“Can I watch?” Callum asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
“No,” Elle snickered. “Samuel and Lydia should be here any minute.”
“They’re already here, actually,” he said. “Derek’s getting the third degree from Mom about how he’s feeling, how he has to be more careful. He gave me a look that clearly said if we don’t leave in the next two minutes, he’s cutting a bitch.” Callum winked. “But we can wait if you two want a little snack.”
“As hungry as I am,” Sadie groused, “and I am plenty hungry, let’s not cause him to commit assault against Lydia. She means well.”
Elle hummed. Meaning well was a bit of an understatement. Lydia had made it a habit to stop by the house several times over the last month, ever since Derek was released from the hospital. She hadn’t been the only one, either. Helina, Claudia, and Felicia, who was staying with Helina and Claudia, seemed to have made up a schedule so that he was never alone. It annoyed him, but he never complained to anyone other than Elle, Sadie, and Callum. He wouldn’t hurt the mothers’ feelings, not when they were just trying to help.
Hell, Elle wasn’t in the mood to go out, but they insisted that a night with just the four of them was needed. She wanted to stay at home, where people couldn’t watch her, gawk at her. Somewhere safe.
“Honey, you okay?” Sadie asked, placing her hand on Elle’s cheek.
“I’m fine,” Elle murmured. “I’ll be right down.”
“Okay.”
Callum and Sadie left her to finish getting ready. Adding another layer of mascara, Elle then shuffled back into her bedroom and slipped her feet into the black, knee-high boots she’d left on the bed. They went perfectly with the knee-length pencil skirt and silk blouse she wore. Elle tucked the girls’ doll between her arm and body and tightened her grip on her cane as she walked out of the bedroom, stopping by the girls’ room. They’d managed to clean about a quarter of the mess before being called downstairs to greet their grandparents.
Elle didn’t expect the rest of the room to be cleaned. They’d give Samuel and Lydia a pitiful look and they’d cave, as they always did, but Elle always tried.
Lydia was seated on the sofas with the girls perched on her lap when Elle descended down the stairs. Samuel, who was standing next to the front door with his phone pressed against his ear, shifted his attention to her, their eyes meeting for a split second before he looked away and ended his call.
The two hadn’t spoken much over the last few weeks. His offer to help was still good, he told her, but that was about all he said it her. It hurt Elle that he was so distant with her, not that she blamed him.
The pictures of her had cost the company too much for him to be understanding. Besides, she pushed everyone away. Why should he be any different? He was the first person to tell her that it was okay for her to love Derek, Callum, and Sadie, that they weren’t freaks, that their love was worth fighting for. But whatever.
She walked over to him, holding the doll out. “They don’t get her back until their room is cleaned.”
“Okay,” he said, wrapping his fingers around the doll’s arm and pulling it from her grip. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”
Tears flooded Elle’s eyes. The four words went straight to her soul. “Thank you.”
“Try to have some fun tonight,” he said, quietly. “Please?”
Elle nodded, blinking back the moisture that threatened to fall. “Take care of my girls, Samuel. I’m trusting you.”
“I’ve got them.” The sincerity of his words touched her deeply.
—FA—
“What are we doing here?” Elle asked, looking around. She thought they were going out to dinner, but instead they were standing outside of the Le souffle De l’Ange, which was French for Angel’s Breath.
“It’s a surprise,” Derek said, sliding his hand in with hers. “Do you trust us?”
“You know I do,” she murmured, though she wondered if they believed her.
Had her behavior made them doubt her to the point that they needed reassurance?
“Then don’t ask why and just follow.”
Derek tugged on her hand, encouraging her to follow him. He led her after Sadie and Callum, who were several feet in front of them already. They stopped in front of the set of double doors. Callum stepped up and pulled a ring of keys from his pocket, unlocking the right door before pulling it open.
“Ladies first,” he said, gesturing for Elle and Sadie to enter.
“What are we doing here?” Elle asked once more but followed her wife into the building.
Derek hurried over and reset the alarm before he and Callum turned and looked at her. “I told you; it’s a surprise.”
“But won’t we get in trouble by being here?” she pressed, thinking how much fun the press would have if they got wind that they had broken into the place. They’d already called into question her morals, her sanity, and her competency, especially after her photographs were leaked. Yes, she had become a national embarrassment in the blink of an eye.
“No,” Callum laughed. “Angel is letting us have the building for the night.”
“She is?” Elle asked.
Angel Beaumont inherited the gallery from her father after he died seven years ago. They’d met her one afternoon when Sadie surprised Elle with a trip to view Henri Matisse’s collection. Matisse was her favorite painter, her inspiration when it came to her own artwork.
Though, Elle hadn’t painted in months. Work always came first, and the girls needed her, her lovers needed her. She missed the feeling of a brush in her hands, the feel of paint dripping from her finger tips.
“Yes,” Callum said, stretching his hand toward her. She placed her fingers on his palm, gasping when he tugged her toward him. “I promise, we won’t get into any trouble. Trust us.”
“I do,” she said, but even she questioned the truth in her words. She wanted to trust them, but did she?
“Then stop worrying,” he said, placing a soft kiss on her lips. “Please.”
Elle nodded. “I’ll try.”
“Good enough, I guess,” he murmured, and looking over her shoulder, he smiled. “Um, we’d better move away from the glass doors before those two put on a show for everyone passing by.”
Elle shifted so she could look behind her and rolled her eyes. Derek and Sadie were wrapped in each other’s arms. He had her leg pulled up onto his hip, his hand dipping under her skirt to her ass. And knowing Sadie the way she did, she wasn’t wearing any pa
nties.
“Oy, nymphos, let’s go,” Elle called out, causing the two of them to flip her off. “So rude.”
Sadie tore her mouth away from Derek’s. “We’re rude? Baby, really?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
For a moment, it appeared that Sadie was going to explain herself, but then she shook her head and said, “Nothing.”
“This way, ladies,” Callum said, pulling on Elle to follow.
She wasn’t stupid; she knew he was just trying to defuse a potential argument, but didn’t call him on it. The point of the evening was for the four of them to reconnect, right?
Callum led them through the gallery to the hall of modern art, peering back at Elle as they entered. Her skin warmed and her eyes automatically searched the room for her work, which hung along the wall on the left side of the room.
Elle would never forget the first time she saw her work there. It was a few days after Christmas, after her parents begged her for a second chance. She’d been so angry for so long that she struggled to let them love her. Helina had spent years telling Elle that her art wasn’t good enough, that she wasn’t good enough. Elle believed her and resented her mother for it. But then Helina changed. Said she realized that she had let the church dictate what kind of parent she was.
Arranging for Elle’s paintings to hang in the same gallery as Henri Matisse’s had been huge moment for their relationship. For the first time in a long time, she felt her mother truly understood her. But then Trixie tried to kill her and everything changed.
Elle shook her head and looked away, smiling when she saw the table set up in the middle of the room. Dozens of yellow and blue roses filled the room, twinkle lights had been hung from the ceiling.
“I can’t believe Angel agreed to this,” she said, sliding into the chair Callum pulled back for her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He sat next to her while Sadie was next to him and Derek to her other side. “And it took some convincing and a lot of promising that nothing would get damaged. Might have promised her a discount on a project, too.”
