"This is bloody ridiculous," I could hear him say from the poolside.
Meanwhile, the newspaper caught my eye and with nothing else to do, I picked it up and flicked through the pages. There was mainly a bunch of grisly news, people dying in wars, political happenings I had little interest in. I yawned, picked up my teacup and turned another page. My heart jumped, I felt my hands begin to shake, the paper shivering in my hands. I dropped the tea cup and saw out the corner of my eye as it smashed into a dozen pieces while it caught the side of the chair. People were looking, I could feel their eyes burning into the back of my head but I couldn't look away from the picture of the young police officer with the dazzling smile.
"Aiden..."
I scanned the article.
The case of Aiden Brown still remains unsolved but it is assumed to be gang related...an act of retribution...
Gang related... That was bullshit and I knew it. Looking out the window, I saw Trevor and his cronies laughing as a cloud of cigar smoke lingered above their heads in the warm air. He couldn't have, could he? I thought about what he said earlier.
"I can do anything."
Was it a clue? I folded up the paper and slid it under a cushion, unable to read anymore. Sooner or later I'd need to confront it, need to know what happened but as close as I felt to Trevor, there was always the impenetrable shield of what his wealth brought him. His life would always be shrouded in mystery, hidden away behind mansion walls and family money. Would I ever get to know the real him?
The redhead was back in the room looking flustered. She sauntered over with her face looking as though it was on the verge of cracking from the smile she was still trying to keep in place.
"Are you ok?”
She picked up the pieces of the teacup and began cleaning the floor.
"I'm fine. Sorry, it was an accident. I'm so clumsy with this."
I pointed to the cast I was hiding beneath my shawl and she gave me an understanding look.
"That's quite ok. I needed the distraction from old Grandpa Grumples out there."
She suddenly looked worried.
"But don't tell him that's what we call him!"
"I won't," I laughed.
"You don't know where his newspaper is, do you?" she asked as she stood up. "He says he's sure he left it in here but I remember taking it outside."
I shook my head.
"Sorry, haven't seen it."
"Oh well. I'll bring you over some more tea. Would you like anything else? The pastry chef has just finished a batch of cinnamon palmiers. They're my favorite."
She patted her tummy like a hungry child.
"That sounds great!"
"I'll be back in a moment."
Waiting until she was out the room, I lifted the cushion to make sure the newspaper was still there. I didn't know why I was hiding it and have no idea why I lied. Guilt and fear can do strange things to a person.
Outside, I could see Trevor leave his friends as he smacked them on the back and laughed at some corny inside joke that no doubt involved insider trading or something equally boring to me. A moment later he was back at the table.
"Hey, sweety," he kissed me on the cheek.
The table of women was looking over again, no doubt trying to figure out what I had that they didn't. Trevor, I thought. I have Trevor.
"You ok?" he asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm fine... The girl's bringing palmiers!"
"Since when did you have a sweet tooth?" he smiled. "Anyway, you're sweet enough already."
He stroked the side of my face.
"Jesus, how long were you working on that one?"
I rolled my eyes and he laughed.
"So, how were your buddies?"
"Oh yeah, just great. They were all hopelessly jealous of me, said you looked like a goddess."
"A broken goddess," I corrected him by nodding at my shoulder.
"A wounded hero," he corrected me further. "They all think you're a tough cookie."
"You told them about Ophelia!"
"Not quite…”
"Hmmm... How is she anyway? Have you been in touch with her?"
He picked up the teapot and went to top up my cup that was now missing.
"Where's yours?"
I shrugged.
"Urgh... this place is run by amateurs."
He waved over another waiter who eagerly trotted over.
"Can we get a bottle of red? A Chateaux Medoc maybe?"
"Certainly," the waiter said.
"So... what were we saying? Oh yeah, Ophelia. She won't talk to me. I tried calling a couple times. I don't know why, she's an evil wench. I guess I still care about her, though. She's my sister, and she's also sick, really sick. She needs help. I've been getting updates from her doctor. He writes to me every Monday and tells me everything she's done over the week. She's on new meds, taking it easy, has taken up painting watercolors."
"I never imagined her as much of an artist."
"Apparently it's been very therapeutic for her."
He had a distant look in his eye as he remembered everything that had happened. Sliding his hand across the table, he entwined his fingers into mine.
"I'm sorry," he said.
I didn't say anything.
"I mean it. I'm so sorry. I should have believed you. You wouldn't believe the number of times that girl's been in trouble. I covered for her all through our teens and I guess I just got used to her behavior. If I ever for a moment thought that she would be violent..."
He pulled his hand away and began fidgeting with a napkin.
"You weren't to know," I said. "Anyway, I'm alive aren't I?"
"But a few inches the other way and she could have shot you through the heart."
"And I would have left a beautiful corpse."
The waiter arrived and presented the bottle.
"Very nice," Trevor said.
"So... You never did let me in on your secrets," I said as the waiter left.
"And what secrets would that be?"
His hands were now beneath the table, the white cloth shrouding his arms. His hands were on my knees, sliding up my thighs.
"You said you could do anything."
He smiled and stroked the inside of my thighs. They were still wet and sticky from early, my panties still soaked through.
"I can do anything," he said as he stroked my mound gently, his fingertip only grazing the white lace of my underwear.
"Celebrities," I said. "I want to know everything."
"Oh... No... You wouldn't be interested."
"You're joking. I couldn't be more interested."
I bit my lip and let out a subtle moan as he stroked a little harder.
"Don't do that, I'll cream my pants right here in front of everyone."
"Why do you think I'm doing it," he whispered.
He began rubbing me, talking as if everything was normal.
"So you want to hear a story," he said.
I nodded, barely able to speak as a wave of heat and pleasure soared between my legs.
"Ok, here's one. You know G.G. Antic, right?"
"The female rap genius? Yeah, who doesn't?"
He slid his fingers inside my panties with one hand and picked up his wine glass with another.
"I love the look on your face right now," he said.
Leaning back in my chair, I pushed my pelvis to the edge of the seat so he could reach me easier. His fingers glided inside me while his thumb massaged my clitoris. I let out a soft moan and covered my face to hide my pleasure.
"Do you think they know?" I nodded over to the Wysteria Wives.
"I hope so."
He began pounding me. I couldn't stop the scream escaping my mouth as I buckled forward in my chair. People were staring.
"Trevor!"
He sipped his wine innocently, his arm pumping up and down below the table. There were whispers across the room. It couldn't have been more obvious what was happening.
"I'm coming," I said as I bit down on a napkin.
"Look at me," he said.
I stared into his eyes as he hit my g-spot.
"So I was telling you a story," he said. "G.G. Antic. My friend was obsessed with her, thinks she's the hottest thing on Earth."
"She is," I said through clenched teeth, trying my best to mask the state of ecstasy I was in but failing miserably.
"So, it's his birthday, right? And I decide to throw him something special. I flew out G.G. and in front of everyone… I got her to give him a lap dance."
"What? No way! Like a proper one."
"Yep!"
"Did she take her clothes off?"
"All of them."
"I don't believe you," I said. "She'd never do that for money. In one of her songs she even talks about how a man could never buy her."
He chuckled to himself.
"She wasn't talking about Trevor Wylde."
"I'm coming," I blurted out."Oh, fuck. I'm coming."
I stifled my scream by chewing down on the napkin, my body shaking uncontrollably. When I opened my eyes, he was placing his fingers into his mouth and savoring the taste. People were looking at us with a mixture of disgust and envy. A moment later the redhead was back with a tray of pastries.
"Here you go!" she beamed. "Can I get you anything else?"
"No, that'll be all," Trevor said with his fingers still resting on his lips.
Chapter Three
"What's the point of golf?" I asked with a club in my hand.
It felt weird and clunky and as I gave it a practice swing, I had visions of it flying out my hands and into someone's face.
"This thing feels like a deadly weapon."
"Here, you hold it like this."
He stood behind me and hugged me tight as he placed it in my right hand.
"I can't do it."
"Well you can't now, but when your cast comes off it'll be easier."
"It hurts," I moaned. "I feel ridiculous."
"Aaw."
He bopped me on the nose and took my club away.
"How about we walk over to the gardens? I haven't been in years."
"Sure."
The grounds of the country club seemed to extend for miles. Just when I thought we were coming to an end, there would be a new thing to see, another tennis court, a hot tub, another pool, more people having the time of their lives.
"It's beautiful," I said as we stepped into a wooded area.
"Isn't it? I used to come here with my mother."
"Your mother, you don't speak of her that often."
"There's not much to say."
He looked up to the treetops.
"She married my dad for his money, had me and Ophelia as commodities. We were little more than bargaining chips."
"Where is she now?"
He ignored my questions and pointed to a nearby tree.
"These don't grow naturally in Florida. The heat's usually too intense so these were brought over from Germany by the man who built the club. He missed the black forest so much he tried to replicate it here."
"Why didn't he just return home?" I mused.
Trevor laughed.
"Because life is never so simple."
No, I thought. It isn't. Over the last few weeks, I hadn't forgotten about Aiden and how he was murdered. Seeing his picture in the paper only made me more paranoid about his death. It all seemed so clean and convenient for him to die that way. My stomach was churning at the thought of his family being left behind, at the thought that he was gunned down in the street for everyone to see his dying, bloody body.
"You've gone quiet," Trevor said as he wrapped an arm around me.
"Just thinking."
"What about?" he asked.
I didn't want to talk about it, but the more I tried to bury it deep down at the back of my mind, the more I wanted answers. I found myself saying:
"Aiden Brown... I saw him in the paper."
And Trevor stiffened and stepped away from me.
"Why would you bring that up?" he asked defensively.
"He was murdered."
"I know. It's been all over the news for weeks. Apparently, it's unusual for NYPD cops to get gunned down mysteriously in front of the station by masked assailants. Cops take other cops dying seriously. I hear it’s all hands on deck up there. "
"They're saying it's gang related, that it was an act of revenge or something."
"Yep," he said as he smoothed down his shirt. "That'll be it then."
"But...."
He turned to me and frowned.
"But what?"
I looked away embarrassed.
"But nothing..."
We walked in silence for a few minutes but my worries about his death had not been assuaged. If anything I was more suspicious than ever.
"It seems weird that he died the day after you found out about him and me together."
Trevor flicked open a packet of cigarettes and lit one. I noticed he didn't offer me one like he usually did.
"Trevor? Are you listening?"
"I'm listening."
Silence again.
"You know what I'm going to ask you, don't you?"
He sucked on his cigarette.
"I'm going to ask if you had anything to do with Aiden's death."
He blew out smoke and kept his eyes on the treetops.
"Why would you ask me such a thing?"
"Be-Because it it's all so weird."
I could tell he was angry from the dark, stormy look that was coming over his eyes.
"Weird..." he breathed out the word. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well... You found out about us and the next day he was shot."
"So? What's that got to do with me?"
I carefully thought out what words to say but everything I thought of seemed wrong. No matter how I worded it, I was accusing the man I loved of murder.
"You were behind it, weren't you?"
He stopped in his tracks.
"Are you accusing me of fucking killing someone?"
He threw his cigarette down on the ground and stamped on it angrily.
"Are you serious? Are you fucking serious?"
"I'm sorry!" I cried with tears springing to my eyes. "But... But you said you could do anything. You're rich. You can get away with anything you want. You're powerful, you could do it, couldn't you? Have someone killed on a whim?"
"On a whim," he repeated. "You really think just because I have money that I'd go around murdering people on a whim! Who the hell do you think I am? Patrick fucking Bateman?"
"I'm sorry!" I howled.
The anger in his eyes was real. I'd made a mistake, I must have. There was no way he could be this mad if he was guilty.
"Since he died I haven't been able to get him out my head! He had a family! A wife and children."
"You should have thought about that before you let him put his dick inside you," Trevor replied.
The tears fell heavier and I wiped them from my cheeks.
"That was cold," I said.
He was shaking his head, still angry at me.
"I don't believe you. After all, I've done for you. Given you a home, a life of luxury, the best life anyone could want and you ask me if I killed your little fancy fuck toy. Unbelievable."
He walked away from me.
"Wait, where are you going?"
"I'm going to find Oliver. Take the limo, have the driver take you home."
The tears continued to fall as he walked away, his figure disappearing through the trees until he was little more than a speck in the distance. I looked around and suddenly felt isolated, alone, so terribly scared. And I had no idea how to get back to the car.
Chapter Four
The table beneath me was cool and the air conditioner was blasting cold air into the room. It was a welcome change from the heat outside, something I was still getting used to after living in the northern states my whole life. The room was bland ex
cept for the desk in front of me which had a few personal items and trinkets littering the surface. There was a photo of smiling twins that looked as though they belonged in Children of the Corn with their pale blue eyes and golden hair. Beside it was a cup with the obligatory, world's best dad, scrawled on the front in a child's writing. Beside that lay a clay disc with a paw print pressed into it. Craning my neck to see more, I saw the name, Luther printed into it. Who the hell calls their dog Luther? A second later there was a knock on the door and the doctor entered.
"Hello, again. Sorry to keep you waiting."
"That's quite alright. I was just looking at your twins over there," I pointed to the photo.
"My little princesses," he beamed. "It's terrifying to think that they're both graduating high school this year."
"That's nice."
He was tall and thin with bags beneath his eyes and cropped gray hair. Still, he was rather attractive although not physically desirable. There was something about the way he spoke, as though he could take away all your problems in a heartbeat with a gentle word of reassurance and a tongue depressor.
"I bet you're a wonderful father," I blurted out for reasons I can't fathom.
He looked surprised and a little embarrassed.
"I, erm, try my best," he said. "Anyway, let's look at that shoulder of yours."
I pulled my gown to the side to reveal the cast.
"Nasty stuff," he said. "The gunshot I mean. Trevor told me what happened."
"Oh... I thought it was supposed to be a secret."
"It is," he laughed. "In this hospital, we house quite a lot of them."
St Bernadette's was situated on Treasure Coast and as the name would suggest, the area was flush with money. Only the richest people came here and their secrets came too with rumors of secret abortions and mysterious injuries running wild throughout the wards.
"Are you ready?" the doctor asked.
He had an electric saw in his hand and if it wasn't for his pleasant demeanor and white coat I would assume that I was about to be murdered.
"Ready," I nodded.
He flicked a switch and the saw whirred into action. Gingerly, he lowered it into my cast and the noise got louder, sounding as though it was crunching its way through bone. I looked away and held my breath, too scared to move in case I lost an arm and hoping it would be over any second. After a terrifying minute, the noise stopped and the cast fell onto the table with a clunk.
Too Curious Complete Series (Books 1-5) Box Set Romance Series: (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Series) Page 22
