Eve's disloyalty, but she stopped herself. "I'm doing what I think is best for everyone."
A photographer took pictures of the ceremony, and Kate heard George ask him to make up some extra prints to send to his family. What a considerate man he is, Kate thought.
After the cake-cutting ceremony, George whispered to Alexandra, "Darling, I'm going to have to disappear for an hour or so."
"Is anything wrong?"
"Of course not. But the only way I could persuade the office to let me take time off for our honeymoon was to promise to finish up some business for an important client. I won't be long. Our plane doesn't leave until five o'clock."
She smiled. "Hurry back. I don't want to go on our honeymoon without you."
When George arrived at Eve's apartment, she was waiting for him, wearing a filmy negligee. "Did you enjoy your wedding, darling?"
"Yes, thank you. It was small but elegant. It went off without a hitch."
"Do you know why, George? Because of me. Never forget that."
He looked at her and said slowly, "I won't."
"We're partners all the way."
"Of course."
Eve smiled. "Well, well. So you're married to my little sister."
George looked at his watch. "Yes. And I must get back."
"Not yet," Eve told him.
"Why not?"
"Because you're going to make love to me first, darling. I want to fuck my sister's husband.'
Eve had planned the honeymoon. It was expensive, but she told George, "You mustn't stint on anything."
She sold three pieces of jewelry she had acquired from an ardent admirer and gave the money to George.
"I appreciate this, Eve," he said. "I—"
'I'll get it back."
The honeymoon was perfection. George and Alexandra stayed at Round Hill on Montego Bay, in the northern part of Jamaica. The lobby of the hotel was a small, white building set in the center of approximately two dozen beautiful, privately owned bungalows that sprawled down a hill toward the clear, blue sea. The Mellises had the Noel Coward bungalow, with its own swimming pool and a maid to prepare their breakfast, which they ate in the open-air dining room. George rented a small boat and they went sailing and fishing. They swam and read and played backgammon and made love. Alexandra did everything she could think of to please George in bed, and when the heard him moaning at the climax of their lovemaking, she was thrilled that she was able to bring him such pleasure.
On the fifth day, George said, "Alex, I have to drive into Kingston on business. The firm has a branch office there and they asked me to look in on it."
"Fine," Alexandra said. "I'll go with you."
He frowned. "I'd love you to, darling, but I'm expecting an overseas call. You'll have to stay and take the message."
Alexandra was disappointed. "Can't the desk take it?"
"It's too important. I can't trust them."
"All right, then. Of course I'll stay."
George rented a car and drove to Kingston. It was late afternoon when he arrived. The streets of the capital city were swarming with colorfully dressed tourists from the cruise ships, shopping at the straw market and in small bazaars. Kingston is a city of commerce, with refineries, warehouses and fisheries, but with its landlocked harbor it is also a city of beautiful old buildings and museums and libraries.
George was interested in none of these things. He was filled with a desperate need that had been building up in him for weeks and had to be satisfied. He walked into the first bar he saw and spoke to the bartender. Five minutes later George was accompanying a fifteen-year-old black prostitute up the stairs of a cheap hotel. He was with her for two hours. When George left the room, he left alone, got into the car and drove back to Mon-tego Bay, where Alexandra told him the urgent telephone call he was expecting had not come through.
The following morning the Kingston newspapers reported that a tourist had beaten up and mutilated a prostitute, and that she was near death.
At Hanson and Hanson, the senior partners were discussing George Mellis. There had been complaints from a number of clients about the way he handled their securities accounts. A decision had been reached to fire him. Now, however, there were second thoughts.
"He's married to one of Kate Blackwell's granddaughters," a senior partner said. "That puts things in a new light."
A second partner added, "it certainly does. If we could acquire the Blackwell account..."
The greed in the air was almost palpable. They decided George Mellis deserved another chance.
When Alexandra and George returned from their honeymoon, Kate told them, "I'd like you to move in here with me. This is an enormous house, and we wouldn't be in one another's way. You—"
George interrupted. "That's very kind of you," he said. "But I think it would be best if Alex and I had our own place."
He had no intention of living under the same roof with the old woman hovering over him, spying on his every move.
"I understand," Kate replied. "In that case, please let me buy a house for you. That will be my wedding present."
George put his arms around Kate and hugged her. "That's very generous of you." His voice was hoarse with emotion. "Alex and I accept with gratitude."
"Thank you, Gran," Alexandra said. "We'll look for a place not too far away."
"Right," George agreed. "We want to be close enough to keep an eye on you. You're a damned attractive woman, you know!"
Within a week they found a beautiful old brownstone near the park, a dozen blocks away from the Blackwell mansion. It was a charming three-story house, with a master bedroom, two guest bedrooms, servants' quarters, a huge old kitchen, a pan-eled dining room, an elegant living room and a library.
"You're going to have to do the decorating by yourself, dar-ling," George told Alexandra. "I'm all tied up with clients."
The truth was that he spent almost no time at the office, and very little time with clients. His days were occupied with more interesting matters. The police were receiving a string of assault reports from male and female prostitutes and lonely women who visited singles' bars. The victims described their attacker as handsome and cultured, and coming from a foreign back-ground, possibly Latin. Those who were willing to look at police mug shots were unable to come up with an identification.
Eve and George were having lunch in a small downtown restaurant where there was no chance of their being recognized.
"You've got to get Alex to make a new will without Kate knowing about it."
"How the hell do I do that?"
"I'm going to tell you, darling ..."
The following evening George met Alexandra for dinner at Le Plaisir, one of New York's finest French restaurants. He was almost thirty minutes late.
Pierre Jourdan, the owner, escorted him to the table where Alexandra was waiting. "Forgive me, angel," George said breathlessly. "I was at my attorneys', and you know how they are. They make everything so complicated."
Alexandra asked, "Is anything wrong, George?"
"No. I just changed my will." He took her hands in his. "If anything should happen to me now, everything I have will belong to you."
"Darling, I don't want—"
"Oh, it's not much compared to the Blackwell fortune, but it would keep you very comfortably."
"Nothing's going to happen to you. Not ever."
"Of course not, Alex. But sometimes life plays funny tricks. These things aren't pleasant to face, but it's better to plan ahead and be prepared, don't you think?"
She sat there thoughtfully for a moment. "I should change my will, too, shouldn't I?"
"What for?" He sounded surprised.
"You're my husband. Everything I have is yours."
He withdrew his hand. "Alex, I don't give a damn about your money."
"I know that, George, but you're right. It is better to look ahead and be prepared." Her eyes filled with tears. "I know I'm an idiot, but I'm so happy that I can't bear to think of any
thing happening to either of us. I want us to go on forever."
"We will," George murmured.
"I'll talk to Brad Rogers tomorrow about changing my will."
He shrugged. "If that's what you wish, darling." Then, as an afterthought, "Come to think of it, it might be better if my lawyer made the change. He's familiar with my estate. He can coordinate everything."
"Whatever you like. Gran thinks—"
He caressed her cheek. "Let's keep your grandmother out of this. I adore her, but don't you think we should keep our personal affairs personal?"
"You're right, darling. I won't say anything to Gran. Could you make an appointment for me to see your attorney tomorrow?"
"Remind me to call him. Now, I'm starved. Why don't we start with the crab... ?"
One week later George met Eve at her apartment. "Did Alex sign the new will?" Eve asked. 'This morning. She inherits her share of the company next week on her birthday."
The following week, 49 percent of the shares of Kruger-Brent, Ltd., were transferred to Alexandra. George called to tell Eve the news. She said, "Wonderful! Come over tonight. We'll cele-brate."
"I can't. Kate's giving a birthday party for Alex." There was a silence. "What are they serving?" "How the hell do I know?" "Find out." The line went dead.
Forty-five minutes later George called Eve back. "I don't know why you're so interested in the menu," he said nastily, #since you aren't invited to the party, but it's Coquille Saint-Jacques, Chateaubriand, a bibb lettuce salad, Brie, cappuccino and a birthday cake with Alex's favorite ice cream, Neapolitan. Satisfied?"
"Yes, George. I'll see you tonight."
"No, Eve. There's no way I can walk out in the middle of Alex's—"
"You'll think of something."
Goddamn the bitch! George hung up the phone and looked at his watch. God damn everything! He had an appointment with an important client he had stood up twice already. Now he was late. He knew the partners were keeping him on only because he had married into the Blackwell family. He could not afford to do anything to jeopardize his position. He had created an image for Alexandra and Kate, and it was imperative that nothing destroy that. Soon he would not need any of them.
He had sent his father a wedding invitation, and the old man had not even bothered to reply. Not one word of congratulations. I never want to see you again, his father had told him. You're dead, you understand? Dead Well, his father was in for a surprise. The prodigal son was going to come to life again.
Alexandra's twenty-third birthday party was a great success. There were forty guests. She had asked George to invite some of his friends, but he had demurred. "It's your party, Alex," he said. "Let's just have your friends."
The truth was that George had no friends. He was a loner, he told himself proudly. People who were dependent on other people were weaklings. He watched as Alexandra blew out the candles on her cake and made a silent wish. He knew the wish involved him, and he thought, You should have wished for a longer life, darling. He had to admit that Alexandra was exquisite looking. She was wearing a long white chiffon dress with delicate silver slippers and a diamond necklace, a present from Kate. The large, pear-shaped stones were strung together on a platinum chain, and they sparkled in the candlelight.
Kate looked at them and thought, I remember our first anniversary, when David put that necklace on me and told me how much he loved me.
And George thought, That necklace must be worth a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
George had been aware all evening that several of Alexandra's female guests were eyeing him, smiling at him invitingly, touching him as they talked to him. Horny bitches, he thought contemptuously. Under other circumstances, he might have been tempted to risk it, but not with Alexandra's friends. They might not dare complain to Alexandra, but there was a chance they could go to the police. No, things were moving along too smoothly to take any unnecessary chances.
At one minute before ten o'clock, George positioned himself near the telephone. When it rang a minute later, he picked it up. "Hello."
"Mr. Mellis?"
"Yes."
"This is your answering service. You asked me to call you at ten o'clock."
Alexandra was standing near him. He looked over at her and frowned. "What time did he call?"
"Is this Mr. Mellis?"
"Yes."
"You left a ten o'clock call, sir."
Alexandra was at his side.
"Very well," he said into the phone. "Tell him I'm on my way. I'll meet him at the Pan Am Clipper Club."
George slammed the phone down.
"What's the matter, darling?"
He turned to Alexandra. "One of the idiot partners is on his way to Singapore and he left some contracts at the office that he needs to take with him. I've got to pick them up and get them to him before his plane leaves."
"Now?" Alexandra's voice was filled with dismay. "Can't someone else do it?"
"I'm the only one they trust," George sighed. "You'd think I was the only capable one in the whole office." He put his arms around her. "I'm sorry, darling. Don't let me spoil your party. You go on and I'll get back as soon as I can."
She managed a smile. "I'll miss you." Alexandra watched him go, then looked around the room to make sure all her guests were enjoying themselves. She wondered what Eve was doing on their birthday.
Eve opened the door to let George in. "You managed," she said. "You're such a clever man."
"I can't stay, Eve. Alex is—"
She took his hand. "Come, darling. I have a surprise for you." She led him into the small dining room. The table was set for two, with beautiful silver and white napery and lighted candles in the center of the table.
"What's this for?"
"It's my birthday, George."
"Of course," he said lamely. "I—I'm afraid I didn't bring you a present."
She stroked his cheek. "Yes you did, love. You'll give it to me later. Sit down."
"Thanks," George said. "I couldn't eat anything. I just had a big dinner."
"Sit down." There was no inflection to her voice.
George looked into her eyes, and sat down.
Dinner consisted of Coquille Saint-Jacques, Chateaubriand, a bibb lettuce salad, Brie, cappuccino and a birthday cake with Neapolitan ice cream.
Eve sat across from him, watching George force the food down. "Alex and I have always shared everything," Eve told him. 'Tonight I'm sharing her birthday dinner. But next year there will be just one of us having a birthday party. The time has come, darling, for my sister to have an accident. And after that, poor old Gran is going to die of grief. It's going to be all ours, George. Now, come into the bedroom and give me my birthday present."
He had been dreading this moment. He was a man, strong and vigorous, and Eve dominated him and made him feel impotent. She had him undress her slowly, and then she undressed him and skillfully excited him to an erection.
"There you are, darling." She got astride him and began slowly moving her hips. "Ah, that feels so good. ... You can't have an orgasm, can you, poor baby? Do you know why? Because you're a freak. You don't like women, do you, George? You only enjoy hurting them. You'd like to hurt me, wouldn't you? Tell me you'd like to hurt me."
"I'd like to kill you."
Eve laughed. "But you won't, because you want to own the company as much as I do___You'll never hurt me, George, because if anything ever happens to me, a friend of mine is holding a letter that will be delivered to the police."
He did not believe her. "You're bluffing."
Eve raked a long, sharp nail down his naked chest. "There's only one way you can find out, isn't there?" she taunted.
And he suddenly knew she was telling the truth. He was never going to be able to get rid of her! She was always going to be there to taunt him, to enslave him. He could not bear the idea of being at this bitch's mercy for the rest of his life. And something inside him exploded. A red film descended over his eyes, and from that momen
t on he had no idea what he was doing. It was as though someone outside himself was controlling him. Everything happened in slow motion. He remembered shoving Eve off him, pulling her legs apart and her cries of pain. He was battering at something over and over, and it was indescribably wonderful. The whole center of his being was racked with a long spasm of unbearable bliss, and then another, and another, and he thought, Oh, God! I've waited so long for this. From somewhere in the far distance, someone was screaming. The red film slowly started to clear, and he looked down. Eve was lying on the bed, covered with blood. Her nose was smashed in, her body was covered with bruises and cigarette burns and her eyes were swollen shut. Her jaw was broken, and she was whimpering out of the side of her mouth. "Stop it, stop it, stop it..."
George shook his head to clear it. As the reality of the situation hit him, he was filled with sudden panic. There was no way he could ever explain what he had done. He had thrown everything away. Everything!
He leaned over her. "Eve?"
She opened one swollen eye. "Doctor ... Get... a ... doctor-----" Each word was a drop of pain. "Harley ... John Harley."
All George Mellis said on the phone was, "Can you come right away? Eve Blackwell has had an accident."
When Dr. John Harley walked into the room, he took one look at Eve and the blood-spattered bed and walls and said, "Oh, my God!" He felt Eve's fluttering pulse, and turned to George. "Call the police. Tell them we need an ambulance."
Through the mist of pain, Eve whispered, "John ..."
John Harley leaned over the bed. "You're going to be all right. We'll get you to the hospital."
She reached out and found his hand. "No police ..."
"I have to report this. L—"
Her grip tightened. "No ... police ..."
He looked at her shattered cheekbone, her broken jaw and the cigarette burns on her body. "Don't try to talk."
The pain was excruciating, but Eve was fighting for her life. "Please..." It took a long time to get the words out. "Private...
Gran would never ... forgive me___No ... police___Hit... run ... accident___"
There was no time to argue. Dr. Harley walked over to the telephone and dialed. "This is Dr. Harley." He gave Eve's address. "I want an ambulance sent here immediately. Find Dr. Keith Webster and ask him to meet me at the hospital. Tell him it's an emergency. Have a room prepared for surgery." He listened a moment, then said, "A hit-and-run accident." He slammed down the receiver.
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