by Fran Louise
I dampened down on the irritation by reminding myself that the paperwork was in progress. “How’s work?” I asked.
Sighing, she brushed a distracted hand through her hair. “Busy,” she said, adding, “the re-election,” as an abrupt explanation. “Nina’s been teething, and I’ve had a pile of freelance work to get through.”
“Why do freelance if you have a column at the Tribune?” I asked.
Still watching me with that half-smile, she rubbed her thumb and forefinger together.
My brow split with a frown. “Speaking of which, I called my lawyer this morning.” The waiter arrived with his coffee.
“Oh,” she said.
I took a sip of the tart, black liquid.
“What did he have to say?”
“She,” I corrected, and felt a tremor of amusement when Stella’s cheeks warmed. “Nothing monumental. But the last time we met you told me to consider the next eighteen years of Nina’s life, which is what I’m doing.”
“Did you speak to your wife?”
I paused. Actually, I tripped, mentally. “No.” I undid the button on my jacket. Stella’s gaze was a direct challenge. The last time I’d seen that her mouth had been hovering somewhere around my cock. The memory was unbidden and utterly debilitating.
“Are you going to tell her?”
“Of course,” I said. I sipped my coffee and scanned the crowds, agitated. I cleared my throat needlessly. “That’s not really your concern, though. I want us to sit down with my lawyer to discuss the situation with Nina.”
“Whoa!” She reared back in her seat. “Lawyers?”
“Yes. There are things we need to discuss-”
“So, let’s discuss them,” she cut in. “I don’t see why we have to bring lawyers into the picture. Why can’t we just take this a day at a time?”
“Well, I’d certainly like to,” I said, smiling even though I felt far from amused, “but you seem pretty determined to keep stalling us into weeks, and now months.”
A sigh left her. “Are we going to go back over this? I know you don’t believe me, but all of this kind of hit me out of left field, Jay.”
“As it did, me.” My patience twanged like a stretch rubber band. “How broke are you, anyway?”
Her jaw relaxed. A short laugh escaped her. “Just come out and ask, why don’t you…”
“You brought it up. Take it the surfer cleaned you out before he left.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It’s my business if it affects Nina. Can’t you sue this guy, get the money back?”
“Don’t you think I would have done that already if I could have? I signed control over to him.” She glowered into the distance. “I already know it was a colossally stupid mistake. I was planning to at least sue him for child support before...” Her glance grazed off me.
“Oh. But don’t you want to sit down with my lawyer?”
“No, I don’t.” Lack of understanding was obviously evident in my expression because she shifted in her seat and made a stab at explaining. “Because then I would have to hire a lawyer, too, which costs money. So if we can avoid that by agreeing things between us, without legal intervention, I would be very grateful.”
“You don’t have to hire a lawyer,” I said. “I’m not suing you. Karina can take care of organising things for both of us.”
Her expression suggested I’d just asked her to walk off the edge of a cliff. “I’d need my own lawyer, Jay. What do we need to discuss, anyway?” she asked, settling back into hesitation. “Child support; visitation? We can agree these things before we get lawyers involved.”
Custody. The word stuck in my throat. Stella’s gaze on me was bruised, but not beaten. She looked like she might get up and leave if I as much as alluded to the topic. Yet we did have to discuss it ... Christ, did I want custody? Certainly not full custody. I had no intention of interfering with Nina’s relationship with her mother. But visitation sounded so impermanent. I wasn’t some derelict father who deserved to be kept on the sidelines.
I took a deep breath, casting my gaze aside in an attempt to reboot the tension.
“Why don’t we make a list?” she suggested, brightening. “Once we’ve agreed on things, you can have your lawyer write it all up.” Her expression clouded over again. “We should at least try.”
I exhaled. “Have you found a place to live yet?”
She eyed me so guardedly that it was like recoil. “I have a place to live.”
“I have resources,” I said. “I don’t see why you should be living in that dive in SoHo when my apartment’s empty.” Once I’d dealt with the bugs, of course.
“It might not be the Four Seasons,” she said with an empty laugh, “but it’s not a dive, Jay!”
Twisting my watch, I stared blindly out at the alley. Nina was my daughter, too, no matter how circumspect Stella wanted to be about that fact. It was inexcusable for her to be living in a two-room walk-up in SoHo when I could afford something much better. I could just imagine Stella’s response to any edicts from me on that topic, though. If I wanted to keep things civilised for the moment—and I certainly didn’t need another uncivilised complication in my life—I was going to have to wait until she had her ‘list’ ready before I waded in with my demands.
In the meantime, I’d have Karina create my bloody list.
Stella leaned on her hand for a moment before straightening. Her eyes were dark with repressed curiosity. “At the paper, they’re saying that Fitzsimmons & Jones is under investigation.” She frowned, tossing the words at me like an accusation. “Is it?”
I lifted my brows. “No.”
“Are you involved with this investigation into Harry Benson?” She paused. “He is your father-in-law.”
I eyed her for a long moment. This was all speculation. It had to be. Fueller would have given me a heads-up if the vultures really were circling.
She was still watching me. “A lot of people seem to think your father’s the real brains behind Harry Benson’s operation,” she said. “Was that what you were arguing about that night in your office? Did he get you involved somehow?”
I took a sip of coffee and considered her. The sun had moved and now it shone behind her against the trellised brick wall. It created a halo of soft-looking fuzz around her hair and cast her bone structure into gentle relief. It was utterly misleading. Her expression had all the shrewdness of a predator.
Was she likely to fight me if I made claims over Nina’s upbringing? A light flared in my consciousness as more memories came flooding back, or rather, suggestions of memories; lemon yellow heat and supple limbs. Memories weighted with physical rather than emotional sensations. So why this urge to touch her, ground myself in her somehow? It flickered at the edge of my consciousness.
“I can’t,” she said suddenly. “Not now, anyway.”
“Can’t what?”
“Move,” she said, pushing her coffee cup away and sitting back, off on her own tangent. “I have an assignment in D.C. next week. I’ll find a place when I get back.”
My brows lifted, making her smile.
“I’m busy, that’s all. I just haven’t had time. It’s kind of you to offer, though.”
I simmered at this, even if I kept my own smile even. Kind? The purse strings had to be tight; why was she refusing my support? She’d been starting proceedings against the surfer to claim support, so she had to know Nina had every right to my money. Why was she keeping me at bay?
I stopped testing the mental bruise and changed tack. “What kind of assignment?”
Her eyes flickered across my features. “For work,” she said lightly.
“I guessed it wasn’t for the girl scouts, Stella.”
She bit back a smile but not before her eyes warmed. “I’m doing a piece on the Internet bill,” she told me reluctantly. “It’s part of the re-election campaign. There’s a company down in D.C. called Vanguard that they’re using as a case study for the bill, so
I’m spending a week down there with them.”
“You do know Fitzsimmons & Jones are lobbying that bill, right?” I said.
Her brow inverted; she paused and absorbed the news.
“What kind of investigative journalism are they doing at the Tribune these days?” I asked with a subtle eye-roll. “Are you only listening to gossip about our stock options?”
Her expression settled. “There have to be ten lobby groups working on this bill, Jay,” she said dryly. “I haven’t started looking into them all yet. I wasn’t to know you were involved.”
“Well, Fitzsimmons & Jones selected Vanguard, the company you’re doing the piece on,” I said, silently miffed at her disregard.
She sighed.
“What are you doing with Nina?”
“She’ll be fine.” There was an off-sound to her causal tone. “She’ll have plenty of food, and I’ll leave her with my phone number in case she needs anything.”
I didn’t laugh. I didn’t even find the comment remotely amusing. Damn her for trivialising my concern. “I have a right to know who’s taking care of her,” I said.
She watched me for a long time. I could see emotions shifting behind her eyes, much the same way as I presumed they must be shifting behind mine. “I’m taking her with me,” she said finally.
“I guessed that. What are you going to do when you’re at Vanguard?”
This question seemed to spark the tinder inside of her again. “I haven’t decided yet. I’ll find a solution.”
Did I want Nina staying with me in New York while Stella was away? The notion of taking care of an infant child was faintly terrifying, even if I could hire an army of nannies. “When are you leaving?”
“Friday.” Her tone was flatly acquiescent.
Our gazes meshed in a wary bog.
“I’ll be in D.C. next week anyway,” I said. Or rather, I decided. I breathed out carefully before turning back to her. “They’re doing some work on the apartment here, so I may as well look into things in DC if you and Nina are there.”
She shifted in her seat, frowning.
“You can stay with me,” I said.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I blinked. “Why not?”
“Because I already have a hotel booked.” She shifted in her seat for about the millionth time.
I searched the air for reasoning behind her argument. “So unbook it,” he said.
“I can’t,” she said. “The paper booked it. It’s too late to be juggling things around like this.”
Impatience snapped. “What is this really about?”
“Why do I have to keep reminding you that you’re married?” she shot back. “I’m not particularly comfortable staying in your house when you haven’t even told your wife about Nina.”
“Look, Stella, in case you hadn’t noticed,” I said, gravitas straining in my voice, “my marriage isn’t exactly solid. I admit the divorce proceedings are on hold right now, but that’s temporary. I have every intention of resuming things when the time is right.”
Her brows lifted; frustration ate at me. I couldn’t have the situation with Elizabeth encroaching on my management of this situation. “Whether or not I’m married, I still have rights,” I said. “There are two ways we can agree on those, and one of them involves lawyers and a hell of a lot more stress.” I glared at her. “I’m trying to take this at a pace you’re comfortable with, Stella. I have a housekeeper on staff at the D.C. house, and I can get an au pair for the week. It’s an opportunity for us to discuss things.”
“I’m sure you could probably buy the moon for us, too, and hang it,” she said, clearly unimpressed, “but that’s not what I’m objecting to.” Her lips tightened; she looked like she was striving for control. After a tense moment, she exhaled heavily. “All right.” She bit the words off. “Okay.”
It was enough to take my anger off the boil, and only barely in time, too.
Finally.
I forced a smile, gritting my teeth. “I have to get back to the office. I’ll have someone send you the details this afternoon.”
“I’ll review them and let you know if they suit me,” she said with a pointed tone before I could leave. “Thanks for the coffee.”
When I turned to look at her, she was already walking away. My blood was still pounding as I headed towards the counter to pay.
#
Fueller was waiting for me in the lobby of my apartment block when I finally arrived home later that night. Suit rumpled, hair badly needing a trim, the sight of him never failed to bring a smile to my face. “Glad you could make it, buddy,” I said, giving him a brief hug.
“Wouldn’t have missed this,” he said.
“Did you go up?”
“No, I thought I’d wait for you. Not sure I want to be in the place alone.” He gave a dramatic shudder. I led the way towards the elevators and he eyed me with amusement as we got in. “Must’ve been a hell of a scene here this morning. I don’t mind telling you, there’s only one person on this planet who scares me more than your father, and that’s your wife.”
I laughed aloud.
“They were all set to tag-team you by the sounds of it, before the bugs showed up.”
“I haven’t even told you the half of it,” I said. We got out on my floor and I let us into the quiet apartment. “You want a drink?”
“Sure. A beer if you’ve got one.” He followed me down to the kitchen.
“They want me to testify.” I opened the well-stocked fridge, taking out two beers from the neat row prepared by the elusive housekeeping staff. Passing one to Fueller, I twisted the top off the other and took a grateful swig.
We considered each other for a minute, until he asked, “What have they got on you?”
“Asset stripping,” I said. “Insider trading.”
“Could you beat it?”
I shrugged. “I’ve got the truth on my side. I’ll have to speak to my lawyer to know if that’ll make any fucking difference in the real world.”
He exhaled. “I’ll get you some names, kid. I know a few people who can work a case like that.” He frowned. “Unless you plan to testify?”
I shook my head, smiling as I took another drink. “Anyway, we shouldn’t get into too many details,” I said, nodding in the vague vicinity of the ceiling.
We strolled around the house, checking behind curtains, under vases and lamps, behind paintings and under tabletops. We found a camera in the hallway facing the door. There was a camera in the bedroom, too, causing me to utter a few choice swear words into the lens. Sick motherfuckers; not that they’d have caught a lot of activity on tape ... maybe in a hotel room across town, but not here.
“So, how did things go after the charity gig?” Fueller asked me, his voice muffled from where he was searching under the bed. “Did you work something out with that woman?”
I leaned against the heater. “Kind of. We’re still talking.”
“About what?”
Good question. “The details,” I said, unwilling to relinquish all optimism. “She’s staying with me at the D.C. house next week. Her and the—my daughter. Nina.”
Fueller’s head popped out from under the bed. “Nina, huh?” He grinned. “Cute. She looks like you, so I hear. Those stellar Fitzsimmons genes.”
I lifted my brows.
“Are you serious, you and the mother?”
“No,” I said, adding, “Well, we’re parents, so yeah—it’s pretty serious. But we’re not in that kind of relationship.”
“Not sure if that whole friends-with-benefits thing works with a baby in the picture,” he said, easing up. He frowned. “This is odd.”
“What is?” I approached him, peering at the small device in his hand.
He compared it with the device lying on the bed. “These are different. If I had put money on it, I’d say they weren’t installed by the same people.”
I rubbed a hand across my aching eyes. “What does that mean
?”
“Well, they’re not set up on the same frequency,” he explained. He nodded up at the camera. “The camera in the hallway’s probably FBI, but this one...” He shook his head. “All the devices in here except that one on the phone are pretty new. Top of the range. The feds can’t afford this shit. And you couldn’t route the signals from these, and the other ones, on the same frequency, so it’s likely there’s feeding to at least two different locations.”
The silence took on a faintly sinister edge as we considered the implications of this.
“Didn’t you say the apartment was empty anyway?” he asked.
“Yeah. Elizabeth was supposed to be here … it’s a long story. I only moved back in recently.”
“Any chance she knew, that’s why she moved out?”
I stopped. Suspicion sat uncomfortably on my shoulders. “No,” I said finally. “She’s the one who found the damn things. She looked as shocked as I was.”
“What was your dad’s reaction?”
“The same.”
Fueller sat down on the bed and shook his head as he considered the small devices. When he looked up, there was an element of regret in his eyes. “I don’t know what to tell you, kid,” he said. “If you want my advice: don’t trust anyone from now on. Not even your own mother.”
CHAPTER SIX
Stella
The garden at Jay’s townhouse in D.C. was long and neat. It was bordered on each side by other neat gardens. The only disruption since Nina and I had come into the garden had been a half-hour display of hissing and fighting; frantic balls of fur darted into the bushes, leaves erupting in dramatic spurts, as the neighbourhood cats fought for territory. Nina was entranced. She sat on my knee laughing heartily at their antics.
She nodded off under the parasol after a while. I lay back and stared at the heavens through my sunglasses. The sun was exceptionally round and simple in a clear blue sky. The clarity of summer … it’d been a lonely winter and a tumultuous spring. The trauma of Nina’s birth, then losing the house—and now all of this with Aaron and Jay. Of course, putting Jay in the same basket together with Aaron was unfair, but I could only carry so many baskets.
