by Lee, Nadia
“You could say, ‘thank you’.”
“Of course.” She pulled her lips back in a smile, though her cheeks felt rubbery now. “Thank you, Gavin.”
“You’re welcome. Now that we’re done here, let’s—” The vibration from his pocket interrupted him. He looked at his phone and scowled. “Excuse me. I need to take this.” With a flick of his wrist, he gestured at the rest of the plane. “Why don’t you look around? I’ll make it quick.”
* * *
“Yes?” Gavin said when the cockpit door closed behind him.
“Sorry to bother, but can you come?” said his oldest brother Jacob’s housekeeper Bee. It wasn’t her real name, but not many could pronounce her Vietnamese name correctly, so everyone called her Bee.
Gavin frowned. Why was she calling him from Jacob’s house phone? “What’s going on?”
“I feel worried. Mrs. Catherine acting strange.” Her accent thickened as she grew more agitated. “The other wife came, and Mr. Jacob left with her.”
What the hell? “What other wife?”
“Mr. Jacob has other wife. Number One Wife.”
“Bee, there’s no ‘other wife’. Jacob only married once.” To Catherine.
“Yes, yes, he never divorce. So Mrs. Catherine is Number Two Wife.”
“Okay, slow down. Who is this Number One Wife?”
“Number One Wife from Las Vegas. Did…uh…sexy shows, and I think Mr. Jacob liked…” Bee cleared her throat. “Anyway Mrs. Catherine will not stop crying. She fire everyone and throw things!”
Gavin could hear the housekeeper’s breathing. Maintaining the giant Houston mansion was her pride and joy. Gavin had seen how spotless his older brother’s place was.
But the idea of Catherine throwing things was surreal. She was one of the most perfectly mannered high-society women he’d ever met. He couldn’t imagine the circumstances that would cause her to lose control to the point where she’d actually throw things.
Although he had to admit, if he understood correctly what Bee was saying, bigamy might very well do it.
Shit.
“She very angry,” Bee said. “Please, somebody need to come. I can’t stay, you know? I’m fired, too.”
“What about Jacob?”
“Not answer his phone.”
Damn it. “Fine. I’ll take care of it.”
He hung up and considered his options. In her current state, Catherine would never let a stranger come inside her home, so sending someone from the concierge services firm he kept on retainer would be useless. For somebody like her, who liked being surrounded by staff who catered to her every whim, firing everyone meant that only family would do in this crisis.
What to do? Ask Ethan to go? No, he was swamped with work. Besides, Ethan wasn’t the warm and fuzzy type, and he thought poorly of Catherine. Mom was out—she despised her daughter-in-law, even though she’d never said a single ungracious word to Catherine. She’d killed all the yellow roses in her garden when she’d learned they were Catherine’s favorite. And Catherine’s own mother, Olivia Fairchild, was about as maternal as a piranha.
That left Gavin. Damn it. He didn’t want to go. He’d planned to spend the day with Amandine, but Catherine was family, and his mother had taught him better. No Lloyd turned his back on a family member in crisis.
Besides, this wasn’t just Catherine in a snit. If Jacob really had married someone before her—and failed to get a divorce before wedding Catherine—it was a horrific scandal that would rock his entire family. And most especially his poor mother.
Take Amandine, too? No. He shook his head. She and Catherine didn’t seem to get along that well. His sister Meredith had said it was because he was Catherine’s ex, though why that could ever be a problem, he might never know unless he grew a uterus. True, he’d proposed to Catherine first, but she’d turned him down in favor of his older brother. Since the moment she’d chosen Jacob, Gavin had been free to pursue whoever struck his fancy. He didn’t need her permission.
Gavin did the math. About three hours to reach Houston. Maybe half an hour calming Catherine down and assessing the damage Jacob had left behind for the family to clean up, then three hours back. It’d be cutting it close, but he could be back in time for dinner at La Mer. Amandine had been looking forward to it for weeks, and so had he.
A decision reached, he stepped out of the cockpit.
* * *
While Gavin was taking the call, Amandine took another look around the jet. It was a frightfully lavish gift.
Should she have prepared something more for the anniversary? An expensive sports car? A yacht?
Of course, you should have, you idiot! This is how people like him live. They don’t do something as plebeian as dinner, even if the restaurant is exclusive. How can you still not know this after three years of being his wife?
“Are you crying?” Brooke whispered under her breath.
“No.” She blinked away the moisture in her eyes.
“You totally are. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Drat, she didn’t want Gavin to see her crying. She needed to smile happily. That was the least she could do.
“You’re getting hormonal.”
“Probably.” That explained her tears. Yup.
The cockpit door opened. Shoving the phone back in his pocket, Gavin approached her. “That was…” He shook his head, his face unreadable. “Never mind. I need to go to Houston.”
“Now?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Oh.” Disappointment flattened her voice. “I thought you had the rest of the day off.”
“Sorry. I did too, but something urgent’s come up.”
“Can’t you send somebody else?” She bit her lower lip as soon as the question was voiced. She didn’t want to look whiny or anything, but damn it, she was his wife, and this was their anniversary. It was cruel to set all those lovely expectations for the day and then yank them away because of one lousy phone call.
“I wish I could, but it doesn’t look like it.”
She swallowed her frustration. She should’ve known better than to think he’d really have so much time off. His work was important. “Are you going to be back in time for dinner?”
“Yes. Guaranteed. I’m looking forward to it.”
She forced her mouth into a smile. “Okay then. I’ll see you this evening.”
He kissed her gently. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
But as Amandine watched Gavin disappear down the ramp, she couldn’t help but think nothing could make up for her disappointment.
Chapter Three
WRINKLING HIS NOSE AT THE HUMIDITY, Gavin stared at the familiar mansion of his oldest brother. Though Jacob had bought one of the largest ones on the market, Catherine had remodeled and expanded it until the structure was grand enough for her. She hated being without people to take care of her every need, so the place had never lacked staff. But now, despite the sunshine and insect sounds all around, it reminded him oddly of his office at 2 a.m., when everyone else had long since left. Quiet as the proverbial graveyard.
Gavin had a key and the security code, so he opened the door and walked inside. No one greeted him.
Bee hadn’t been exaggerating. Couch pillows were strewn about. Water from broken vases lay spilled over the marble floor, and yellow and pink roses scattered among the jagged ceramic pieces.
Jesus. He should get somebody to come and clean everything up. Catherine wouldn’t know what to do with the mess she’d created even if her life depended on it.
He went through the living room and kitchen and found her sitting in a burgundy leather armchair in the den. A white chiffon dress hugged her short but well-curved body. The material would’ve rendered her an air of innocent victimhood…if it had held the power to mute her.
The moment she noticed him, Catherine started sobbing, tears streaming from her large light brown eyes. “Oh my god, what do I do? My life’s ruined!” Even in the middle of a cri
sis, she had on full makeup that was apparently waterproof.
Gavin went straight for the wet bar Jacob had installed and helped himself to a generous serving of bourbon. One could never start drinking early enough when dealing with Catherine. And it paid to get right to the point.
“Is it true? Jacob has another wife?”
“Yes! Some stripper from Las Vegas he married before he proposed to me. He left me for her. How could he?”
No shit. Strippers were generally attractive—they had to be, in order to earn any money—but Gavin doubted that any of them could hold a candle to Catherine. “How does that leave The Lloyds Development?”
“TLD? Who cares about the company right now?”
“You should. If TLD goes bad, you’ll have nothing.” Gavin walked over and stood in front of her. “Is it solvent? Bankrupt? What? He couldn’t have left without taking something.” Given Jacob’s propensity to live grandly, Gavin wouldn’t have put it past his brother to have robbed the company of everything except the carpet.
“You saw the quarterly reports. The company’s fine. It just needs a new CEO. But I… I don’t know where to start.” Fresh tears fell. “I have nothing. I don’t know what I’m going to do. My life’s over.”
“Pull yourself together. Your life’s far from over. You’re still young.”
“What’s the point? Your family will protect Jacob and toss me out. I’ll be made the villain in this farce.”
“No, we won’t.”
“Why not?” She sniffed and tossed her dark curls over a shoulder. “They all hate me.”
“That’s not true.” Well, not exactly true. Jacob had left, Gavin had gotten over her, and Ethan, the second oldest…well, he didn’t hate her, but it was mainly because he didn’t consider it worth the effort. Ethan probably suspected there was some history between Catherine and his two other brothers, even though Gavin hadn’t breathed a word, and Jacob in all likelihood hadn’t either.
Or maybe Jacob had blabbed. Given the magnitude of the fiasco he’d left behind, Gavin wasn’t sure if he could trust his oldest brother’s judgment any more.
“Your mother pulled all my favorite flowers from her garden,” Catherine said.
“They were diseased.” Life was too short to tell unpleasant truths to Catherine. He needed to fly home to his wife, who was, to put it mildly, undoubtedly irritated. “She had no choice.”
“What do I do?”
He grabbed a fistful of napkins from the wet bar and shoved them at her. “Stop crying. Start thinking.”
“Who’s going to move the gnomes?” She gestured at the garden and grew even more hysterical.
About a dozen or so colorful giant pointy hat-sporting figures littered the multi-acre yard in an oval. A wheelbarrow squatted in the center.
Gavin shrugged. “Your gardener. Who else?”
“I don’t have one. I fired him.”
“Oh for god’s sake.” One bourbon wasn’t enough for this bullshit. “If it’s that much of a big deal, you should’ve waited until he moved your gnomes.”
“I heard him laugh. I couldn’t stand it.”
Patience. Patience. “Not everything is about you, Catherine. Maybe he was thinking about a joke.”
“You don’t know him the way I do. I was the joke!” She dabbed at her eyes, then blew her nose in that practiced dainty way.
He should’ve expected that his sister-in-law would be crazy with shame. Appearances were paramount to her. She could bear anything except public humiliation. He almost said, “For fuck’s sake, get over yourself,” but the firm voice of his mother stopped him short.
We always take care of our own. Family is important. It’s all we truly have.
His mother—his family—would expect him to do something to calm his ex/sister-in-law down. A Lloyd didn’t shirk his duties.
“I’ll get you a new gardener tomorrow. He can move the gnomes then,” Gavin said.
“No. They have to be moved today. They’ve just been sitting out there like this all this time.”
“One more day won’t make a difference.”
“Oh fine! I’ll do it.” She hopped off the armchair and pushed her perfectly curled hair back.
Gavin’s jaw tightened. There was no way she could move even one of the gnomes by herself. They were too large, and she was going to pull a muscle or something on top of everything else that had happened.
He yanked his wedding band off and put it on the bar. After shrugging out of his jacket and vest, he said, “Stay here, you crazy woman. I’ll take care of them.”
He stalked outside as Catherine burst into fresh tears at being called crazy.
Just kill me now.
That damned Jacob. He should be the one dealing with Catherine. Or did he think he didn’t have to since he was the “more” of the family—the older one, the more successful, the more popular, the more everything?
Is this what you meant by success, Jacob? What the hell?
Gavin started moving the damned gnomes. They were heavier than they looked. He didn’t care all that much about the personal lives of his oldest brother and his wife. They could do whatever they wanted in private, so long as it didn’t reflect badly on the family. But bigamy? Running off with a stripper, legally married or not? The scandal would hit everyone hard. Their mother would be furious and embarrassed.
As Gavin carted a gnome across the expanse of lawn he wondered what kind of shape The Lloyds Development might be in. The reports Jacob had prepared said things were fine, and so did Catherine, but she didn’t have the head for a business as big as The Lloyds Development. Not that being a bigamist necessarily made Jacob a terrible businessman. But sloppy people did sloppy things, and failing to divorce this Vegas stripper wife before marrying Catherine definitely fit. What other messes were lying around, waiting to be discovered?
* * *
Amandine checked her appearance once more in the rearview mirror as she drove to La Mer. After giving Brooke the rest of the day off, she’d gone to see her stylist to fix her hair. Her makeup was done professionally, her clothes had been selected with her stylist’s help and there was nothing wrong with the way she looked—seriously, an army of professionals had dedicated hours to making her as stunning as possible—but her palms grew clammy nonetheless.
Must’ve been nerves from being pregnant. Sort of like how she had grown teary over the gift.
It had nothing to do with the fact that Gavin’s executive administrative assistant, Hilary Rosenberg, had no idea where he’d gone or what the “urgent” business was.
“Really sorry to bother you, Amandine, but is Gavin with you?” Hilary had said over the phone over an hour ago.
“What?”
“I can’t seem to reach him.”
“But why are you calling me? Didn’t you talk to him earlier about some emergency in Houston? He left after that.”
“I’m—” A discreet throat clearing. “Oh, never mind. I just found his itinerary. Sorry about the confusion. Enjoy the rest of your day, Amandine.”
“Thanks,” Amandine had responded, but how in the world was she supposed to enjoy the rest of the day after that? Amandine didn’t buy Hilary’s excuse about a misplaced itinerary. Hilary knew Gavin’s schedule better than Gavin did.
If it wasn’t business… If it was something personal, why hadn’t he said anything?
Amandine stopped her car in front of the glitzy restaurant, and a uniformed valet opened the door for her. She climbed out and handed him her keys. The soft red silk cocktail dress whispered against her skin, the matching sandals adding almost three inches to her five-foot five. Her stylist had pulled her wheat-colored hair into a chic French twist, something she could never manage on her own. She radiated—or at least she hoped she radiated—a sophistication and elegance that befit the crowd at La Mer.
The maître d’, clad in a tuxedo that looked like cultured wealth, led her to a table in the most sought-after corner. The walls were made entirely of
Plexiglas; behind them was an enormous aquarium full of interesting sea life. Her section boasted orange and yellow coral and tropical fish of various vivid shades. The only ones she recognized was a pair of clownfish, which swished their tails to disappear into their anemone home.
Amandine sighed. It must be nice to live in a modest home, just them and their spouses, nobody to impress. The fish seemed to be in sync with what they wanted and expected from each other. Maybe it was because a clownfish never married a fish out of its league.
Like a shark.
A waiter came by to get her drink order. She requested mineral water and juice, which appeared almost instantly.
She shouldn’t be ungrateful. She had a generous husband, a lovely home everyone envied, tons of staff to take care of everything.
So what if she hadn’t been in half the rooms in her house, or if she always had to look the part? She’d known what was expected when she agreed to marry Gavin. He was far wealthier than her uncle’s family, who had taken her family in when her father’s prolonged unemployment had resulted in eviction. And her uncle had been rich. Gavin shouldn’t have to become downwardly mobile just because she was more comfortable in clothes from thrift stores, or a smaller home that she could manage on her own.
This was their anniversary. Her focus should be on all the lovely things in her life rather than a few minor annoyances.
Right?
She sat back in her seat and waited.
And waited.
Then waited some more.
After about half an hour, she gave up and reached for her phone. Maybe Gavin was—
She started when a chilled bottle of Perrier-Jouët appeared on the table.
“With my compliments.”
She looked up and blinked. “Hello, Mark.”
“Surprised to see you sitting here by yourself.” Mark Pryce took the only empty chair, the one that Gavin was due to sit in when he showed up. The dim interior light darkened Mark’s medium-brown hair so that it almost looked as inky as Gavin’s. He wore a nice dress shirt and dark slacks of European origin. Most likely custom tailored, given the way they fit him.
