A Dangerous Widow (Dangerous #1)

by Christina Ross

  And how would he look? Different, but the same—like me. How kind had the years been to him? Who knew?

  And who cares, I thought as I smoothed the compact’s pad beneath my eyes in an effort to erase the smudged mascara. What matters is Michael. What matters is telling Ben what happened today, and finding out what he thinks of it, and if anything should be done about it. That’s what matters—not how well I’ve aged. Jesus, Kate.

  Yet, even as I applied a fresh coat of mascara and lipstick, I did not for a single moment believe any of that. It sounded shallow, but I did care how I looked. I did care about how Ben would see me now, because, as much as a gentleman as he was, I knew that, on some level, I’d be judged the moment he saw me. And that I’d judge him as well.

  And that was only human.

  * * *

  Like clockwork, Ben indeed arrived thirty minutes later, which I thought was something of a statistical miracle. How could he have nailed it like that? Manhattan was tough to navigate. People were routinely either five or ten minutes early or late. It all depended upon traffic.

  But apparently not when it came to Ben.

  When my intercom rang, I went into the foyer to answer it.

  “Yes?” I said.

  “A Mr. Benjamin Cade to see you, Mrs. Stone.”

  “Please send him up.”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you, Christian.”

  I hadn’t changed my clothes. I was still wearing my jeans and a white tank top, the latter of which probably revealed more than it should, but when I had left my apartment for lunch with Laura, I certainly didn’t know the day was going to end like this. At least I’d kicked off my black heels when I’d come home. Wearing those now would have been a bit much. Now, I was in my bare feet, which felt earthy and far less sexy to me.

  When the buzzer rang, I steeled myself for what was to come, took a breath to calm my nerves, and then just womaned up and answered the door. And there stood the new version of Ben Cade, which was radically different from the young man I remembered.

  It didn’t appear as if he’d grown taller—he still looked around six-foot-four to me. But his build was completely different from the youthful, athletic man I’d once been so much in love with. He was substantially more muscular, broader, and dare I say even hulking and massive, the lot of which was likely honed from his years in the military—and from sticking to a workout routine that had sustained his build.

  His black hair hadn’t thinned or gone gray. Instead, it was cut short in a way that flattered his chiseled jawline and thick neck, and set off his cobalt blue eyes, which even to this day were framed with thick black lashes. Just as I remembered. In fact, his eyes were the only thing about him that hadn’t changed.

  But the rest of him had, at least physically.

  “Ben,” I said. “It’s been so long—my God, is that really you?”

  “I could say the same,” he said as he looked at me. “You look beautiful, Kate. I’m sorry to be here under these circumstances.”

  “As am I. Please come inside.”

  I stepped aside so he could move past me, and as he did, I could detect the faintest scent of his crisp-smelling cologne, and I couldn’t help but admire how well his tailored black suit fit him. As he moved forward into the living area of my apartment, I shut the door behind me and locked it. Everything about him seemed twice the size of the man I remembered. And while he looked more mature—not unlike me—age had somehow enhanced his looks.

  I could sense that he wanted to ease into this, so, as he stepped into the living space, he looked around. “This is some place,” he said. “How many penthouses are there?”

  “Four.”

  “It’s amazing.”

  “It’s also kind of obnoxious,” I said. “But at least it’s not as obnoxious as where I used to live. That place was obnoxious.”

  He turned to look at me, and when he did, there was kindness in his eyes. “I’m glad that you did well for yourself, Kate. I really am.”

  “I did OK on my own, Ben—but let’s not fool ourselves here. Michael was the one who did well. Spectacularly well. I wouldn’t be living here now if I hadn’t sold StoneTech after his death. So, let’s just be clear about that—all of this has nothing to do with me. This is because of Michael’s legacy. Not mine.”

  “Still the humble woman I remember,” he said.

  I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just said, “Would you like to sit down?”

  “I would. We should talk.”

  “The living room is just through there. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I’ll take a bottle of water if you have one.”

  “Let me get each of us one, and then we’ll talk. Meanwhile, why don’t you go out onto the terrace and take in the views of the Park. Get some fresh air. I’ll join you in a moment.”

  “I’ll do that,” he said.

  I was a fit of nerves as I went into the kitchen and pulled out two chilled bottles of water from the refrigerator.

  He looks good, I thought. He looks goddamned good.

  I had mourned Michael’s death for years, but I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that seeing Ben again had stirred within me emotions that I’d long since forgotten.

  But that wasn’t why he was here, so it was time to get over the shock of seeing him again. To go forward, we needed to catch up, and then go forward on a professional level. If we didn’t, we’d get nowhere when it came to the mysteries that surrounded Michael’s death, which I had to face and confront with force if I had to.

  Because if this Rhoda woman was right and he was murdered? If someone thought they could steal my man away from me without any repercussions, they didn’t know me. If anything untoward had happened to Michael, whoever had killed him needed to consider me one dangerous widow. Because, if Rhoda was on to something, I would avenge Michael’s death on my own. I needed Ben’s help to lead me to that person. And if he could? It would be me pulling that trigger, me slicing that throat, or me poisoning that drink if and when I ever found Michael’s killer.

  I would seek my vengeance. I would do right by my husband. Michael deserved that from me. And if it turned out that he had been murdered, it would be me alone who’d serve up that person’s death.

  And after all that they’d stolen from me? I’d serve it up cold.

  CHAPTER SIX

  When I joined Ben on the terrace, I handed him his bottle of water and stood next to him as he leaned forward on the balustrade that overlooked Central Park.

  “I’ve never seen it like this,” he said.

  “It’s something, isn’t it? And look—the leaves are starting to pop. You should see it in the fall. It’s amazing.”

  “The colors,” he said.

  “They’re fabulous.”

  “How long have you lived here?”

  “Four years? Maybe a bit longer? I sold our place on Park several months after Michael’s death. When he died, I first had to tend to the sale of his company, which took time. I know the world of business, but I know zip about encryption software, so to preserve his legacy, I decided to sell StoneTech to the company that best could improve upon what Michael had built.”

  “And you made four billion from that sale?”

  So, he’s kept tabs on me…

  “I did. And I plan on giving away most of it. I don’t consider that money mine. When Michael died, I decided that that money should be used in his name for philanthropic reasons. For scholarships for students studying things like software development. Or for underprivileged men and women who want to go to school, but who lack the means to do so. And for lots of other things, which range from helping to find a cure for HIV to feeding those who can’t feed themselves—not just here in the States, but all over the world.”

  “You’ve always been kind, Kate. Didn’t I read somewhere that you’re somehow connected with the Red Cross?”

  “You must have. I’m the Director of Corporate Gifts fo
r the Red Cross here in Manhattan. I’m not on their payroll—why would I be? I have enough money. But because of my life with Michael, I know a lot of people with deep pockets who will write the Cross big checks if I ask them nicely. Right now, my whole life is about service and giving back. My time and Michael’s money should be used to help people. I retained a small portion of the sale of his company so I could remain free to make sure that that happens—and frankly, also to live. Not that I’ll be living here much longer.”

  “You plan to move?”

  “Look at this place,” I said. “It’s outrageous. When I sold our home on Park, friends urged me to buy a signature property for investment reasons. Since I was so overwhelmed at that point, I just followed through with their recommendations like a robot. But none of this is for me. I plan to downsize soon, and to give the profits of the sale to the Red Cross.”

  “And yet many would have kept that money for themselves. Many would have been living an even grander lifestyle than the one you’re currently living. And yet you didn’t. Few would have done that.”

  I didn’t know how to answer that without sounding like Mother Theresa, so I didn’t respond. Instead, I suggested to Ben that we go inside and catch up.

  “I don’t want to talk about Michael just yet,” I said. “Before we do that, I think that we need to catch up.”

  “On what?” he asked.

  “Our lives. Ben, if it’s true that something happened to Michael, and if you’re going to help me with this, then we need to get to know one another again. I need to know who you are now. And I think we both know that we need to face our pasts so we can move forward with the present. So, let’s do that.”

  * * *

  I entered the living room first.

  Ben followed and closed the glass doors behind himself as I moved deeper into the large, airy space.

  “How about there?” I said as I motioned for him to sit on one of the two white sofas that faced each other. “I’ll sit opposite you. That way we can talk.”

  “That works for me.”

  When had his voice become so deep…?

  Each of us took our seats. “We’ll deal with Michael in a moment. First, I want to know how you’ve been after all of these years. You can ask me the same. I think that if we’re going to work together—if you even decide that you do want to work with me—then we can’t deny who we were, Ben. It would be ridiculous to just gloss over it as if we didn’t have a past with each other. We need to know who each of us is now. Do you agree?”

  “I agree, because I’m also curious.”

  “At what point did you become a SEAL?”

  “Now you just want to age me,” he said. And when he said it like that, with that mischievous sense of humor I used to love, it reminded me of the Ben I used to know.

  “Let’s just face it—we’ve both aged.”

  “You especially well.”

  I wasn’t about to respond to that, so I just waited for him to answer my question.

  “After I finished my bachelor’s degree, I enlisted in the Navy.”

  “Why the Navy? Why not go into the workforce?”

  “Because I wanted a challenge, and they provided me with one mother of one.”

  “I can only imagine. How long have you been a private investigator? And by the way, why a private investigator?”

  “Eight years,” he said. “I chose to become one because of my training, and because I knew I had the skills to help people, which is important to me.”

  “Are you married?” I asked, already aware that he didn’t wear a ring on his finger, not that that mattered much. Some men chose not to wear one.

  “Divorced,” he said. “Six years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. My wife cheated on me, so I moved on. I don’t believe in a relationship built on lies. I want a relationship built on honor and trust. Elena couldn’t offer me that, so I severed it.”

  “That must have been awful for you.”

  “I’m not going to sugarcoat it—it wasn’t pleasant.”

  “Are there any children involved?”

  “Thankfully, no. For their sakes, at least. Though, at some point, I do want to have children. A few would be great, but I’d happily take two.” He shrugged at me. “But time is running out when it comes to that, isn’t it? So, I guess we’ll have to wait and see. Who knows what might happen?”

  “No one knows anything about anything,” I said to him, and I could see in his eyes that he knew that I was talking about Michael. “But I am sorry about your divorce.”

  “I’m not. But how about you? How are you doing? I can only imagine that life without Michael is difficult.”

  “It’s been five years since he’s been gone, which is a long time. Let’s just say that thanks to friends and therapy, I’m much better. While I’ll never believe in that cliché that time can heal all wounds, I will say that it can and does lessen them. I’ll always miss Michael, but like you, I’m still relatively young and also want to have children before it’s too late. I’m at the point in my life that I’m ready to explore the possibilities of actually dating someone. And believe me—that took a hell of a lot of work.”

  “How long were Michael and you married?”

  “Seven years.”

  “I’m so sorry, Kate.”

  “As am I.”

  “What has it been like for you?”

  “That’s a big question.”

  “You don’t need to answer it.”

  “Maybe I should for myself—just to hear myself say the words out loud. Hearing you speak your own truth has a way of making it concrete, doesn’t it?”

  “It does. But only do it if you want to.”

  “For the first year after his death, it was all about business—selling off StoneTech, selling the house, buying this place, and then finding a new job and starting a foundation that would allow me to use Michael’s wealth for a greater good. After that year, things eventually started to settle bit by bit. I got out of the corporate world, and went into my current job at the Red Cross. That job hasn’t only lifted my life—it’s also given it purpose. I love that I can help my colleagues through my contacts. I’m happy that I’m able to help others because I happen to know a lot of wealthy people who have money to burn.”

  “Money to burn,” he said. “Not many people would be willing to give away nearly four billion dollars, Kate. Why are you?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do. But I know how this city works, so I’ll keep enough of it to remain relevant.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Here’s how it works in this town—I’m only invited to society events because of my net worth. I know that for a fact. So, until my death, when the rest of the money goes to charity, I’ll keep a billion of it for myself—and people will continue to revere me for it. In turn, I’ll get what I want from them so I can further my philanthropic work. This is who I am now—a woman leveraging her money so she can go after other people’s money and assist those who need it. It’s who I’ve become since Michael’s death.”

  “About that. Do you want to talk about what you learned today? Are you ready to go there?”

  “I am,” I said. “But you’re going to have to keep an open mind about all of it, because what I’m about to tell you is going to make you question everything you know and feel about me.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “So, what happened today?” he asked.

  I told him everything that had happened. And as I told him, his eyes widened and he just looked at me.

  “You went to see a psychic? What happened to the Kate that I used to know? The logical, pragmatic woman who never would have done such a thing? She would have mocked it.”

  “Just so you know, the Kate that you used to know is sitting right here. I only went because my best friend Laura urged me to go with her. She thought it would be a fun girl’s day out. Turns out it wasn’t so fun at all.”

 
“Do you believe any of it?”

  “How can I dismiss the fact that this Rhoda woman knew that I’d been born prematurely and that my uncle had killed himself—two things I had never shared with Laura? I did tell Michael about my uncle, but I never told him that I was a preemie. Why would I? It’s a non-issue. It wouldn’t have come up in conversation.”

  “Even I didn't know that,” he said. “But Kate, you’re a well-known woman. Reporters have been digging into your life for years. Maybe something was written about you somewhere that exposed both of those details, and this woman knew about them.”

  “I know exactly what’s been written about me, Ben.”

  “How?”

  “I have a team that looks into it. If a tabloid goes too far, I sue them—particularly if they write anything untrue about Michael, which I won’t have. That’s also what my life has become. So I’d know if either of those issues had been discussed in the press. They haven’t.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “So, here’s what it comes down to. After that experience, how can I explain away what Rhoda said to me? Tell me that.”

  “I’m not sure that I can.”

  “Then what am I to do with it?”

  “Do you have any reason to believe that Michael could have been murdered?”

  “I’ve only had a few hours to process this, but I have considered two possibilities.”

  “What are they?”

  “The day before he died, Michael pulled out of a deal to sell StoneTech to a group of investors for an ungodly sum of money—which pissed off plenty. He dropped the deal at the very last minute, which might have infuriated someone enough to make them seek out some sort of revenge. His decision to keep his company to himself affected two of his best friends—Mark Dodd and Tom Smart. Michael went to university with them. But as well as they did on their own, neither ever did as well as Michael, and whenever I was around them, I always sensed a bit of jealousy when they ribbed Michael for his success. When Mark and Tom approached Michael to purchase StoneTech with a group of investors they’d assembled, Michael agreed. I knew that he was itching to do something else. Something new. He thought that maybe he’d start a different kind of company, even though he wasn’t sure what that was at that point. In the end, he decided to pull out, cancel the deal, and keep his company for himself.”