Nick was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nick tipped the valet, threw his suitcase in the car’s trunk and slammed it shut. When he got in the car and turned on the ignition, his sunglasses fogged up from the steam heat trapped inside. Even after being parked in the hotel garage, the interior was hot enough to cook a meal, but it was nothing compared to how steamed he was. His hands shook as he cranked up the air conditioner and aimed the vents at his face, welcoming the cold blast of air on his fevered skin.
More than anything, I want to restore my reputation as a first class journalist.
Ronnie had said it a few days ago when he’d asked her what she wanted most in life. He should have processed that with his mind instead of letting his lust take over. She was no longer the pesky tomboy who’d bedeviled him years ago with her antics. She had become an enticing temptress, and he’d been powerless to resist her from the minute she’d come traipsing into his house. All smiles and banter and sparkling emerald eyes, she’d teased and tormented him until he’d given in and taken his pleasure with her fiercely on the beach.
Her sweet surrender had been his undoing.
Once he’d gotten a taste of burying himself in her tight, velvety sheath, he hadn’t been the same. She was a sweet, sultry addiction, tormenting him with her honeyed taste, the silkiness of her skin, the lushness of her pert curves. He was insatiable when it came to Ronnie, an animal ensnared by her scent, needing to satiate his cravings as often as he could and even that wasn’t enough. As soon as he was done pleasuring her and wringing out the last drop, he would begin to want her again. Hell, he was hard now just thinking about it.
She had sunk her seductive claws in him deep enough to scar. How could she have pretended to be someone so sincere and caring? He hadn’t seen Ronnie in fifteen years, and against his better judgment, he’d allowed her to stay, to get under his skin and work her spell on him, robbing him of rational thought. All this time, she’d had a deceitful plan to get a prized story on him. The proof was in the tape she’d made.
He was a hot mess, but he couldn’t let his dark fury cloud his judgment, especially when Ronnie was in danger because of him.
Cursing loudly, he got out of the car and headed back to the room.
Veronique raised her head from the living room floor when she heard the door open. Through a thick veil of tears and damp hair, she watched Nick storm into the room.
She sat up and cried out joyfully, “Nick! You came back!”
“Get up,” he said briskly, pulling her up beside him. “You’re coming with me.”
She smoothed her hair back from her tear streaked face and wiped her eyes. “I couldn’t imagine you would be so mean and untrusting. I’m glad you came to your senses,” she said, wondering at his tight grip on her wrist and the merciless glint in his eyes.
“Not quite. If your life wasn’t at stake, I’d leave you here,” he said, his mouth twisting.
His words felt like a sharp slap across the face. “Really? Then leave,” she retorted, fuming at his nerve. Thrusting her chin high, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “I’m not going with you until you tell me you don’t believe that I sold you out.”
“You don’t have a choice,” he said darkly, grabbing her arm.
“Yes, I do,” she said shaking him off. “I’m not some damsel in distress who needs rescuing!”
“You’re coming with me because you’re not safe here. Plus, I need the information you have in New York for tomorrow’s meeting.” Nick’s jaw ticked dangerously as he opened her suitcase. “Quit arguing and pack your things. Or I will!”
The next six hours were the longest and most tedious Veronique had ever spent as they drove to the airport, boarded a plane to LaGuardia and hailed a taxi when they got there.
When she heard Nick give the taxi driver Fred and Maman’s address on the Upper West Side, she leaned forward and told the cabbie, “Please take me to midtown west first. It’s on the corner of Broadway and—”
He turned to Nick with questioning eyes. “Where do I go first?”
“Don’t listen to her. We’re going to 74th and Central Park West,” Nick told the driver firmly. He turned to Veronique. “You can’t get off first. I have a crucial meeting with Fred before he meets with the board tomorrow. Visit with your mother while I’m there.”
The nerve of Nick acting like a despot in front of the cab driver and telling her what to do! Not that she cared what the driver thought. He’d already shown himself to be sexist by ignoring her request.
She tapped on the driver’s shoulder. “Drop him off first and then take me to Broadway and—”
“No, lady. I’m going where your husband told me to go,” he replied with infuriating chauvinism. “You two can fight it out there.”
“Well!” Veronique huffed and flounced to the far side of the car. “For the record, he’s not my husband,” she said with disdain.
“Damn right I’m not,” Nick said rudely.
It wasn’t the time or place for arguing, but Veronique wished she could tell him off for treating her like a traitor. He had accused her and convicted her of betraying him without even giving her a chance to figure out what had happened. She looked out of the window in stony silence, acutely aware of Nick’s tightly restrained fury as he sat on the other side checking his email. When the taxi finally arrived at Fred’s apartment, Nick gave him a generous tip and nudged Veronique toward the building where Willie, the elderly doorman who was an institution there, stood at the entrance.
“Hello, Mr. Cameron. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you round here,” Willie said, smiling broadly. He nodded at Veronique. “Same for you, missy. Do you two know each other?” he asked, glancing at their suitcases.
“Yes, unfortunately,” Veronique said through tight lips. “Nice to see you, Willie. Would you keep my suitcase here until I come down?”
“Mine too,” Nick said, rolling his suitcase forward.
“Sure thing. Have a great day, all,” Willie said, beaming.
“Thanks,” Nick said, giving him a tip. He placed his hand on the small of Veronique’s back and ushered her to the elevator.
Veronique moved away as if his touch scalded her. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed.
He dropped his hand and entered the elevator after her. Nick’s hardnosed, dominant presence beside her made her want to scream. He was making her wait at her mother’s apartment while he took care of business. It wasn’t fair. She had uncovered the case, done all the legwork and now he was making her play it safe while he got to enjoy all the action. She wanted the satisfaction of seeing Elizabeth stopped and reprehended.
The overwhelmingly sad taste of loneliness and rejection made her realize she should make the best of this visit with Maman. It was long overdue. She was tired of being estranged from her mother and tired of blaming her for a lot of her childhood angst.
Nick rapped sharply on the door, startling her from her musings. His face was cold and unreadable, and she could feel his barely restrained contempt for her. It felt so awful to be on the receiving end of his anger that she moaned out loud before she could stop herself.
He turned to her with a chilling look, one she’d never forget, and then the door opened. She blinked at Maman and was heartened when her mother’s green eyes lit up with wonder.
“Nick! Veronique! What brings the two of you together?” Helene asked with a surprised smile.
“Hello, Miss Helene, I’ve brought your errant daughter,” Nick said, kissing Helene’s cheek.
“I’m so happy you did.” Helene beamed at Nick, and then held out her arms to Veronique. “I’ve missed you so much, ma ’tite cherie. Come, give me a hug.” Her slender arms enveloped Veronique, smelling of tuberose and gardenia, scents that transported her back to her childhood. Maman’s arms held her firmly, so different from long ago when she would barely give her a brief pat on the head before sending her off to bed with her nanny. Her affectionate gr
eeting was a welcome surprise. She hadn’t seen Maman since Christmas when Veronique had left after a dumb argument. So dumb, she couldn’t even remember what they’d argued about.
“Thanks. I’ve missed you too,” Veronique said. “I don’t know why I let so much time go by without seeing you.” Truth was, she had avoided seeing her and Fred because she hadn’t wanted to deal with their cross-examination over her demotion at work.
“I have to leave. I’ll let you two get caught up,” Nick said, patting Helene’s shoulder.
Helene released Veronique and gave him a quizzical look. “Where are you going?”
“I’m meeting Fred at his office. I should be back in an hour. Don’t let Veronique out of your sight,” he said, walking down the hall. “Keep her here till I get back.”
Helene’s eyebrows shot up at his gruff order. “Why?” she called after him.
“She’s dangerous,” he said in a flat tone and left.
“Dangerous? You? Why did he say that?” Helene asked Veronique when he was out of earshot. Her arched brows knitted over incredulous eyes as she closed the door. “What did he mean?”
Veronique rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. Don’t pay attention to him. Nick has a convoluted sense of humor,” she said, brushing it off so she wouldn’t harp on it. Nick thought she was untrustworthy and now he was calling her dangerous. It cut her to the quick, and also made her furious. Forcing herself to smile, she concentrated on her mother, not Nick, otherwise she’d scowl.
“Come sit beside me,” Helene said, walking toward the sofa.
Veronique perched on the edge of the Victorian sofa, feeling as fragile as the antique mahogany legs. “Did you watch the news today?” she asked, amazed that Maman had no idea what Nick was talking about. She was thankful that Fred hadn’t said a word to Helene about it. He was probably waiting to tell her tonight.
“Not yet. I was at the doctor’s office for my yearly checkup and it took most of the afternoon. Has something happened?” Helene asked, looking worried.
“No. I was just wondering.”
Helene leaned back and studied Veronique. “Where have you been all this time? In the tropics? You skin is so tanned and your hair is..well, it’s…” Her voice faltered as she grappled for words.
“Wild? Out of control?” Veronique prompted, self-consciously raking her fingers through her hair. She wouldn’t let her mother make her feel gauche, not today when she had more important things to contend with than how polished she looked. “I like it this way,” she said edgily. “Please don’t criticize me. Can’t we have a moment together without you judging what I’m wearing or how my hair looks?”
“I wasn’t doing that. I was just making an observation, cherie. That’s all,” Helene said mildly. She patted Veronique’s knee and smiled at her. “You look lovely and contrary to what you think, I’m very proud of you.”
“You are?” Veronique couldn’t hide her shock.
“Yes, you are a strong and fearless young woman—something I never was. In many ways you remind me of your Daddy. He had the same warm charisma that drew people.”
Maman’s kind words and sincere tone were a balm to her tattered feelings. “Thank you, that means the world to me. You know how much I adored Daddy.”
Helene nodded. “You and me both, cherie.”
She laid her soft hand on Veronique’s cheek and gazed into her eyes with curiosity. “Tell me…how did you and Nick come here together?”
Veronique drew in a calming breath. The mere mention of Nick upset her and the more she thought of it, the more incensed she became. How dare he treat her that way? “It’s a long story, and I’d rather not get into it.”
“Fine. We won’t talk about Nick, although…” Helene hesitated.
“Although what?” Veronique said uneasily. Did Maman know what had transpired between her and Nick? She couldn’t imagine Nick telling Fred intimate details of his private life.
“I was going to say, ‘although Fred and I think the world of him.’ We never believed he was guilty.”
“Neither did I. How are you feeling, Maman? You look great,” Veronique said, quickly changing the subject.
It was true; Maman looked different than she had over the holidays. More centered. She still had a smooth auburn bob and porcelain skin with very few wrinkles for a fifty-year-old woman, but her green, catlike eyes had softened with age. In her royal blue, sleeveless dress and muted gold Tory Burch ballerina flats, she looked elegant and casual at once.
“Have you been doing anything different?” Veronique asked.
“I’ve taken up yoga and it’s really helped with my mood swings,” Helene said. “At my age, my hormones are all over the place.”
“Oh.” It couldn’t only be the yoga; she seemed more at peace than ever. “How’s Fred?”
“He’s doing very well. Soon as he wraps up the case he’s working on, we’re going to Italy for a month.”
“That should be fun. Fred makes you happy, doesn’t he?”
Helene smiled. “Oh, yes. I don’t know what I would have done without him all these years. He’s my rock.”
“You’re lucky to have him. I admit I resented him for taking you away from me, but I realize now he’s a good man. I’m sorry I gave you so much grief growing up,” she said with an apologetic smile.
“It wasn’t entirely your fault. You rebelled because I wasn’t the best mother,” Helene said, looking down at her hands. “I was so wrapped up in coping with your Daddy’s problem, I left the child-raising to nannies and later to boarding school. Do you forgive me?” Her earnest eyes searched Veronique’s.
“I already have, Maman,” Veronique said, squeezing her hand gently. She wanted, needed, to make peace with her. She was done with past resentments. After Nick’s parting comment and experiencing that level of heart wrenching pain and loss, she could empathize with her mother. “I understand now. All these years I blamed you for enabling Daddy, but it wasn’t your fault. Daddy was a wonderful man, but he had a terrible addiction problem. I realize now that you loved him so much you couldn’t bear to leave him. That’s why you stood by him all those years.”
“I see you understand. Thank you, cherie.” Helene’s eyes welled up with tears and her voice quivered as she asked, “What brought this on?”
Veronique gave a self-deprecating shrug. “I guess I grew up. I’m through judging others when I have room to talk.” If Maman only knew the depth of her love for Nick and the depth of her despair over losing him.
“May I have another hug? One wasn’t enough,” Helene said, opening her arms.
“Of course.” Veronique hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek. A warm feeling of closure settled over her as she rose from the sofa. “I have to go now.”
Helene’s face fell. “So soon? You just got here. Won’t you stay for tea? With shortbread cookies?”
Veronique smiled. “Nothing has changed. You’ve been having Earl Grey tea with cookies since I was a little girl.”
Helene chuckled. “And what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all, but I can’t stay longer. I’ll come by next week to see you again.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” Veronique said, meaning it.
“What will I tell Nick? He looked very stern when he told me not to let you out of my sight,” Helene fretted.
“Tell him I went home,” she said carelessly.
Helene looked doubtful. “I hope he doesn’t get angry. I’ve never seen him look so tense.”
“He’ll get over it,” Veronique said.
But she wouldn’t. She would never get over the heartbreak he’d caused her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Daisy leaned back in Nick’s office chair and put her feet on his desk, a smug smile curling her lips as she fingered the wads of cash she’d found stashed in the top drawer. Pocket change, she thought smirking. She wouldn’t have to steal petty cash anymore. She was going to be very rich soon.
Finding Veronique’s files had been a Godsend! She’d already made a nice bundle selling her video and the silly picture of Nick. She’d reached out to all the media channels and gotten the highest bid for them. Then she’d turned her efforts to extorting Nick’s ex-wife, Elizabeth. When Elizabeth had balked, Daisy, pretending to be Veronique, had said, “I have stuff on your involvement with Nick’s foundation and it doesn’t make you look good. Know what I mean?”
Daisy had filled her in on the fat file of evidence and the ex-wife had wasted no time in arranging for a nice bundle of cash to be delivered to her near Nick’s house. She glanced at her watch. Six-thirty. In half an hour, she would meet Hector, Elizabeth’s “delivery man” at the corner of Begonia Way. She slid her hands over Nick’s desk wondering if he had allowed Veronique into his private quarters. Probably. And they’d probably done it on his desk too. She felt sick. She should have been the one having sex with Nick, not that stupid bitch. She couldn’t wait to bring her down. If Daisy couldn’t have Nick, Veronique wouldn’t have him either.
She wouldn’t let it upset her; there were better things to think about. Daisy’s newfound riches were intoxicatingly sweet—and so was her revenge. She got up and left the office, closing the door behind her. She had picked the lock earlier, laughing at how easy it had been and wishing she’d done it much sooner.
Intimately familiar with the order of things in Nick’s master bedroom and closet, she gave it a sweeping glance and then went straight to his king size bed. She pulled the Santería medal out of her pocket and stared at it, willing it to work. The medal of Chango, the Santería god of thunder who dominated and overcame enemies, was just what she needed to rid herself—and Nick—of the bitch. She slid the medal across the top of Nick’s bed from one edge to the other as she prayed fervently, “Chango, keep Veronique away from Nick. Get rid of her forever. Forever!” She kissed the medal and placed it under his mattress, feeling a surge of empowerment so strong, she shivered with excitement.
Heart Raider (Heartthrob Series, Book 1) Page 16
