by Nadia Lee
His unnaturally bright eyes send a nasty feeling coiling around my gut. He doesn’t give a shit about Annabelle Underhill. Or Belle, for that matter. He wants to see me fall.
“But it won’t matter if that doesn’t work,” he says. “I have other pawns in play. It’s really too bad your wife is such a poor judge of character.”
He’s so damn smug. Then another detail clicks into place. Belle said she ran into Keith after lunch with her friend. “Traci.”
He nods, pleased that I’ve figured it out. “She’s a great lay. The poor ones tend to be, because they really love your money. I’m sure your wife is good in the sack, too.”
My teeth clench. “Don’t drag my wife into this.”
“But she’s already in it, just like her little friends.”
Friends?
“I help Traci get a job at OWM; she helps her high school crush get an internship. Of course that boy’s an idiot, trying to get me to hire him as an analyst by stealing the firm’s data. Like I would hire a known traitor. Besides, what would I do with OWM’s positions? The timing’s all wrong, and I know Gavin likes to play the market dangerously.” He tsks. “I had to let Gavin know. It was only right…even though it would mean that Idiot Boy blamed your wife for his misfortune. So sad.”
I feel cold, as though I’m covered with a layer of frost. I recall the pure venom in Dennis’s expression as he looked at Belle on his way to the elevator with the security personnel.
“Amazing what young people will believe when they feel grateful and trust that you’ll always have their best interests at heart.” Keith is entirely too gleeful as he lays a dramatic hand over his chest.
The pit inside me grows bigger and uglier.
“Dennis’s obsession is troubling, though. After all, he once crossed a line with your wife that most decent men wouldn’t. He blames her for that, too, since she was unreceptive to his advances when sober. What’s a man to do in a situation like that except take advantage when she’s inebriated?”
A low growl rises from my chest as a killing rage pumps through me. Dennis is the rapist from all those years ago? “Fucking bastard.”
Keith sticks his lower lip out. “Pretty much. And he’ll cross the line again. Just the kind of person he is. I’m going to enjoy it when he does because you love her. You thought you were being smart and freeing her from my clutches when you paid Grayson off, but all it did was let me know how much you love your little wife.”
“Dennis isn’t getting anywhere near Belle,” I grate out, standing up. “And this conversation is over. If anything happens to my wife…if she so much as breaks a nail, I will fucking destroy you.”
“Is that a fact?” Keith gets up slowly. “What are you going to do? Have me arrested? I haven’t done anything illegal, just like I didn’t do anything illegal before…except you still decided to fuck me over, keeping my millions for yourself.” He laughs in a way that makes the hair on my neck stand. “Tell me something, Elliot.” Humor vanishes from his face, leaving a hard mask. His voice is low and soft as he whispers, “Where’s your wife now?”
Terror like I’ve never experienced before slams into me. My heart accelerates, blood roaring in my head. It’s the same tone he used when he told me I’d never find any hard evidence tying him to the embezzlement because somebody else was responsible, except this time his eyes are glittering with sinister intent. Pulling out my phone, I run out of the office.
I have to find my wife before it’s too late.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Annabelle
Dennis takes a menacing step forward, and I retreat, keeping my eyes on him. “What are you doing here?”
“Giving you my regards in person.” His face twists. “You fucking bitch. You ruined my life!”
Fear spikes, my heart hammering as I tell him, “You got fired because you stole the client list and the firm’s positions to take them with you to a competitor.”
Anger vibrates through him as he glares at me, moving closer. “And it’s because of you I had to do that!”
I back away slowly, air rasping in and out. I’m alone, and I’m weaker and defenseless. Panic flutters in my belly. For all I know, Dennis has a gun.
My eyes flicker to his waistband, but I don’t notice anything that could be a gun under his shirt.
“I told you to get your husband to back off,” he says roughly. “But no. He had to get Gavin involved. I told you all I wanted was a fresh start!”
“But you lied. You didn’t think that would stay a secret forever, did you?”
He isn’t listening. “You wouldn’t let me live my life because you’re bitter about the way your parents died. Guess what? Your parents might as well have murdered mine. They were the dirty ones.”
“My parents didn’t deserve to be gunned down like animals!”
“They got exactly what they deserved! If your dad hadn’t tricked mine into the Ponzi scheme, my family wouldn’t have been destroyed. It’s all your fault!” Tendons stick out from his neck as spittle flies from his mouth. “I should’ve fucking killed you when I had the chance, but no, I was too damn stupid to do it.”
For a brief moment, I wonder if he was the one who pushed me down the stairs at Elizabeth’s function, but that doesn’t make any sense. He couldn’t have gotten in, and it wasn’t the kind of party you can just crash.
“Your cunt is too small a price to make up for what you’ve done to me.”
I gasp. “You…! You’re the one.”
“Oh yes. And you’re so much less destructive when you are lying prone, unconscious. That should’ve been your permanent state, and I’m going to fix that now.”
He lunges. I scuttle toward the front of the couch, putting it between us. He feints this way and that, but I manage to keep out of his reach. My pumps are cumbersome; I kick them off and manage to throw one at his face. He ducks, but the second one hits him on the top of his head.
“Bitch!” he bellows, his complexion crimson. He tries to hurdle the couch but catches a foot on the back. As he falls, I run toward the second level to the master bedroom.
Dennis comes after me. I barely make it. I wish I were far enough ahead to lock him out of the bedroom, but he’s too quick. I throw a bottle of lotion I left on the nightstand at him, and that buys me seconds. I dash to the other end of the suite for the doorway leading directly to the pool.
I run across the terrace until I’m on the other side of the pool. The area surrounding the water is covered with textured tiles warm from the sun.
Dennis sneers. “So this is how you’ve been living. Fucking cunt. You don’t deserve this.” He flings his arm in the general direction of the penthouse. “This kind of life… It should’ve been mine! You stole it from me!”
I shake my head. “You have no idea what I’ve been through.”
“I don’t give a shit. You’ll pay for what you’ve done.” He picks up a half-empty bottle of scotch and a glass Elliot must’ve left on the poolside table and hurls them onto the hard tiles where I’m standing. I cover my head and cry out as they shatter on the ground around me. Bits of glass glint in the afternoon sun.
“Now where you gonna go?” he taunts as he makes his way toward me.
Sweat trickles down my skin. I know what it means if he gets a hold of me. Screw it. Cut feet are better than death—or worse.
Gritting my teeth, I leap to my left, trying to avoid the jagged pieces as much as possible. A few still dig into my bare soles, and I gasp, faltering for a moment. The pain is worse than I expected.
I start moving anyway. My blood smears the ground, and I know I won’t be able to run for long. But it doesn’t matter; Dennis jumps and catches my wrist roughly, yanking hard. I slip, and my head hits the edge of the pool. The world starts spinning.
God, I can’t go like this. I am not letting a shithead like Dennis end me.
Dennis’s foot connects with my ribs, and I gasp in pain and immediately curl up. He does it again, and this
time I go with the brutal force and fall backward into the water.
I hold my breath and kick upward, but something heavy lands on me. Hands close around my neck; a knee presses against my back. I flail, my lungs desperate for air. My head and feet throb, and I see red unfurling around me as my vision starts to go dimmer and dimmer…
…until I’m submerged in utter darkness.
* * *
Elliot
“Where the fuck is my wife?” I yell into the phone as my Maserati peels out of the garage.
“Home,” Paddington answers in his usual blasé tone, apparently unperturbed by my profanity.
“You sure? She’s not answering.” And Jana said she left work an hour ago.
“Quite certain. I tracked her phone, and I know she took it with her today.”
His records would show where she’s been all day. Paddington’s very thorough.
I hang up and dial 911.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” comes a professional male voice.
“I need you to send a couple of patrol cars.” I give them my address.
“What is the problem, sir?”
“My wife. I think she’s in danger.”
“Think? What—”
Damn it. I don’t have time for this bullshit. “Just send somebody over. Please!”
I drive as fast as I can. I’m almost to my building. It’s a small relief when I see the main entrance. I’m out of the car instantly, tossing my keys to the dumbfounded security guard outside. “Move it if you need to!”
A couple is about to enter into an elevator. I push them out of the car. “Sorry. Take the next one!” I yell as I press the close button repeatedly.
My hands start to shake, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
The elevator pings, and I open my eyes. Panic surges; the door is ajar. Flowers are scattered on the floor along with some paper money, the couch is skewed and my wife’s pumps are lying haphazardly in the living room.
I rush inside. “Belle!” I cry out, searching. She’s nowhere on the first level.
I take the stairs three at a time to the second, where I hear water splashing on the pool deck. I run out. Broken glass litters the side of the pool. The ground is smeared with blood, and I make out two bodies in the water.
Without any hesitation, I dive in. A stroke later, I’m over Dennis. Inhaling deeply, I wrap my arm around his neck and pull hard. Belle’s face comes out of the water, but she’s not gasping for air.
No, no, no. I can’t be too late.
Dennis struggles, but he’s no match for me. I’m fresher, and adrenaline-fueled panic gives me extra strength. My fingers dig into his sopping hair, and I yank his head back, give him a vicious right hook to the jaw and push him under. A killing rage sears through me, and I see the son of a bitch through a red haze. This is the animal who raped my wife when she was fifteen and pinned all the crap that went wrong with his life on her. Scum like this deserves to die a horrible dea—
Something brushes against my arm. I flinch and see Belle’s red hair spread out around me.
It snaps me back to reality. What the hell am I doing? Killing Dennis will only make me a murderer, and won’t do a thing to help my wife.
I leave him floating and drag Belle out of the water. My heart is in my throat, panic and denial rising. She’s not moving, and her skin feels so, so cold. When she’s on the ground, I finally notice blood seeping from a gash on her head. “My god, my god.” She’s not breathing, she’s deathly pale, and she’s not breathing.
I get on my knees and start CPR. I dimly notice uniformed police officers coming to the pool.
“Hands in the air!” one of them yells. He’s holding a gun trained on me.
I look up. “Help me. My wife. Please. She’s not breathing.”
He puts the gun away. “Oh, shit.”
His partner requests medical assistance on the radio, and I do the only thing I can—I resume CPR.
Please breathe, Belle. You have to breathe!
Every second that passes is like a knife slicing me open, but I continue compressing her chest and giving her the breaths she desperately needs.
Suddenly Belle coughs up water and curls up to her side, wheezing roughly. Oh thank god.
“Hey, beautiful, I got you. You’re safe.” I pull her into my arms, my hands shaking. She’s going to be okay. She’s coughing and breathing, and doctors can fix everything else. I’ll make sure of it.
One of the cops gestures at Dennis, who’s dragged himself over to the edge of the pool. “Who’s that?” he says at the same time his partner asks, “What should we do with him?”
I open my mouth to answer, but it’s my wife who rasps out, “You can take him straight to hell.”
Chapter Thirty
Annabelle
It takes two days before I feel well enough to get out of bed. It doesn’t help that my period started right as the hospital was running tests to make sure no permanent damage had been done, although the bit of embarrassment and cramping were the least of my problems. The head injury worried my doctor and Elliot, but it didn’t turn out to be anything serious. It just looked bad because of the blood.
Nonny was inconsolable when she learned about the attack. “I should’ve been home on Friday,” she sobbed at the hospital. “Then maybe he wouldn’t have done it.”
I squeezed her hand. “If you’d been here, you would’ve been hurt too. I’m just glad you were away and safe.”
It took some convincing before she calmed down, and I specifically instructed her to go on like nothing had happened. “Otherwise you’re letting Dennis win. You don’t want that, do you?”
Her face set stubbornly. “Hell no!”
I grinned. That’s my sister.
Our bedroom at home—I refused to spend a second more than I had to at the hospital—is full of flowers from my in-laws, except Julian and his wife, and my coworkers from OWM. Gavin, his wife Amandine and Jana all come by on Monday to see me, and I assure them I’m fine and will be back at work soon.
“Make her listen to reason,” Elliot complains. There are dark circles around his eyes, and he hasn’t shaved since Friday. “I’m trying to get her to take a month off, but I might as well be talking to a piece of cookware. Teflon cookware.”
Jana raises an eyebrow.
“A month is ridiculous!” I say. “I’m going to go stir crazy.”
Jana turns to me. “Point taken. But if you don’t take at least two weeks off, you’re fired. I heard you cut your feet. It’s going to hurt to walk.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer meekly, and Elliot relaxes…a little, and shoots a look of gratitude her way.
She glances at her watch. “I have to get going. Take care of yourself and don’t come back until you feel not just fine, but great.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say again to her retreating back. Jana has that effect.
“Traci’s fired,” Gavin says after Jana’s gone. “She’s also under investigation for her role in Dennis’s attack.”
I gape at him. “Traci? No way.” I didn’t catch every detail about what prompted Dennis to attack and who helped him. At first I was too happy to be alive, then the doctors were busy poking and stitching me up…and then I was just too exhausted. But Traci…?
Gavin nods. “Unfortunately, it’s true.”
“She’s the one who helped Dennis get hired, and she’s been keeping tabs on you,” Elliot adds. “Apparently she’s always liked him.”
“But I thought… She had such a huge crush on Gavin.”
Gavin stares at me, dumbfounded. “She did?”
“Yes. Why do you think she dressed like that?”
“Gavin is a better catch than Keith Shellington,” Elliot says with a sympathetic glance at Amandine, who merely sighs. I must look puzzled, because he turns to me and says, “Traci was sleeping with Keith.”
“Oh my god.”
“He’s under investigation too. For inciting everything,” Elliot sa
ys.
“Can they get him?” Elliot gave me the broad strokes of Keith’s role while I was at the hospital, but I’m not too optimistic about him paying for it. He didn’t actually do anything.
“Maybe, maybe not.” Elliot purses his mouth. “Hard to say at this point.”
Amandine adds, “It doesn’t matter what the police find. He’s finished.”
“How?”
“He’s already made enemies out of Elliot and his brothers and sister. Gavin, too, which means he’s just antagonized lots of wealthy and powerful families. He won’t be able to sneeze without somebody watching over him to make sure he doesn’t break any laws.”
Part of me wants him tossed into a dungeon, the key thrown away, but a bigger part of me is just glad this is over. Sighing, I lean back against my pillows.
“We should get going,” Gavin says, helping Amandine up. “And you should get some rest. When you’re well, we’ll have dinner together again.”
I smile. “I’d love that.”
Elliot walks downstairs with them. I close my eyes in the now quiet room. The doctors prescribed a bunch of painkillers, but I refuse to take them. I want my mind clear.
My feet ache, my ribs are bruised and hurt like the dickens when I move the wrong way, and the gash on my head is ugly and throbbing. But I’m alive, and Elliot and Nonny are safe, and that’s all that matters. A few drowsy moments pass, and then a thought fleets through my mind, and I frown.
“Why are you scowling?” Elliot says, reclaiming his spot next to me.
I snuggle next to him, grateful for his solid presence. “Because you were right about Traci and Dennis. If I’d listened to you, maybe things wouldn’t have gotten this bad.”
“It’s not your fault they betrayed your trust and friendship, Belle.” He kisses me tenderly on the temple. “They’re the bad guys here. Don’t blame yourself.”
