“Well, somebody had to take responsibility. The place was falling apart.”
“You did and you triumphed. Look at what you achieved. The castle thrives under your management, even though you hate the place. Storm Industries is a leader in renewable energy projects. Your sister became a world class engineer and conservationist. And Royce’s doing what he does best, exploring the world, finding new challenges.”
“And I’ve acquired a wife and a son.”
“Yes. And from what I’ve seen, you love them dearly. Can’t you just relax and enjoy what you have?”
My leg’s bothering me, so I come to my feet to stretch my legs. “Somebody tried to kill Elizabeth and Andrew. I can’t rest until we find out who did it.”
“You will. Give it time. In the meantime, stop pushing everyone away.”
“I’ll try.” Easier said than done, as it turns out.
Chapter 9
______________
Elizabeth
THE MORNING AFTER THE DISASTROUS DINNER, I go for a run at the Mirador, the exclusive gym I joined to help me lose the baby weight. But today I have more than exercise in mind. I need to clear my head from the events of last night.
Royce and I followed Brianna back to her place. As soon as she walked in the door, she phoned the man who inflicted the damage on her to schedule a session. When it became apparent who she was calling and what the call was about, Royce snatched the phone from her hand, and in exquisite detail told the dom what he’d do to him if he hurt his sister again.
After he hung up, Royce and Bri got into a shouting match, one that ceased only when I sent Royce away. It took me an hour to calm her down, but it was exhausting work. If she keeps going this way, she’s bound to get hurt. I don’t dare ask her any more questions about her dangerous lifestyle, but I need more information to know how to deal with this side of her.
It’s Sunday morning and the gym’s relatively empty. Only one other person is exercising, and she’s on a rowing machine at the other end of the space, facing away from me, with a headset on. No time like the present to talk to Royce.
After I punch in his number, he greets me in a growly voice. “Elizabeth. Anything wrong?”
Fair question after the events of last night. “No. Everything’s fine.”
“Who is it?” A woman’s voice in the background.
Oh, geez. Not only did I wake him, but he has a guest.
“My sister in law. Go back to sleep. Hold on,” he says to me. “Let me go to the kitchen.”
“Okay.” He puts me on hold.
A few seconds later, he clicks back on. “I apologize. Not at my best in the early morning.”
Early morning? It’s ten o’clock. But maybe that qualifies as early in his world. Even though my questions can’t wait, I did disturb his rest. “I apologize.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. It’s not Brianna, is it?”
“She’s fine. Left her sleeping. Managed to keep her from going out last night. She got drunk instead.”
“Lesser of two evils.” A door slams somewhere. “Where’s the bloody coffee?”
“I’m sorry,” I say again, trying hard not to laugh. I know what it feels like to need that caffeine fix.
“Not to worry, love. Ah, here it is. Hold on. Let me get this going.” I maintain silence while he gets the coffee brewing. “Okay, I’m back.”
“Has she always been like this?”
“No. It started at uni. I was two years ahead of her. Soon after she arrived, the rumors started swirling. Experimenting, she called it. At first it was light bondage, but soon it escalated to whips and chains. She loves the pain. I tried to stop her. But she wouldn’t listen to me. For obvious reasons, I couldn’t tell Gabe. And Edward was out of the country. In Australia, I think, looking into a hydroelectric project.”
Yeah, the last person you’d tell about Brianna’s predilection for pain would be Gabriel. “I didn’t see any marks on her when we first met. Who got her to quit?”
“Jake. He didn’t bother reasoning with her, simply dropped in on the doms and the BDSM clubs she patronized. I don’t know what he said, but after his talk with them, the clubs refused her entrance, and her ‘masters’ wouldn’t accept her calls anymore.”
“I can’t imagine she accepted Jake’s interference without a fight.”
“Oh, she objected plenty. Yelled at him, threatened to go to Gabe and get him fired. He knew she wouldn’t. It would kill Gabe to find out what she’d been doing after everything he’s gone through.”
“He still has no idea about her penchant for that lifestyle.”
“You must never tell him, Elizabeth.” His tone is hard, insistent.
“I won’t.” Last thing I want is to inflict more hurt on Gabriel.
“Jake didn’t trust her to rein in her behavior. So he put a twenty-four watch on her. Every time she sneaked out, someone was right there watching over her. If she so much as talked to someone in the lifestyle, he’d step in and drag her away. It took him about a month or so to break her of the habit. Needless to say, she resented the bloody hell out of him.”
“What I don’t understand is when did she have time to study? She graduated with a double major, didn’t she?”
“Well, after Jake laid down the hammer, she discovered she actually liked uni. Oh, she’d still party on the weekends. As long as it was normal college stuff, Jake didn’t interfere. But during the week, she hit the books with a vengeance. She graduated summa cum laude. Gabe was so proud he sent her out to assist on a project overseas. Within a year, she was heading it.”
“What about when she’s out on the field? Does she regress to her old ways?”
“No. Not knowing what she will do when she gets to Brazil since Jake’s no longer around.”
“Umm, is that coffee I smell?” The same female voice I heard before.
“Yes, love. Want some?”
“Umm, something else I’d like to taste first.”
A rustle from his end, followed by a very appreciative male groan. “Bloody hell.”
Oh, geesh. Time to hang up. “Bye. I’ll keep you posted.” I click off.
Clearly, Brianna needs Jake back in her life since he’s the only one capable of controlling her. Somehow, I’ll need to convince Gabriel to put in a call and hire him back.
So immersed am I in my thoughts, I fail to notice someone approaching me until he’s standing right in front of my elliptical machine.
“Hello, Liz.”
I whoosh out a breath. Brian Sullivan. Partner at Smith Cannon. A lifetime ago, I kicked him out of my office after he insulted me the day after my liaison with Gabriel went public.
“Brian! What are you doing here?”
“I transferred to Smith Cannon’s London office.”
Damn. “Did you?”
“Yes. Seeing how I have dual citizenship and a degree from King’s College, the firm felt my talents were better employed here rather than in D.C. I’m part of the international transactions practice group.”
Has Smith Cannon told Gabriel about Brian’s transfer? After all, Storm Industries is a client now. And if they have, why hasn’t Gabriel told me? “That’s . . . nice.” Don’t know what else to say. He’s a bastard and I want nothing to do with him.
“Everything all right, Mrs. Storm?” Jonathan, my guard. Something about my demeanor must have alarmed him. If there were ever a moment I needed him, right now’s the time.
“Yes, Jonathan.” I introduce the two men, making sure Brian understands the nature of Jonathan’s role in my life. Brian’s tall but nowhere near as muscled as Jonathan who’s six four and built like a semi. Plus the man carries a gun, knows martial arts, and would not hesitate for a second to kill or injure a person, or maim some important body part, if my life was threatened.
“I’ll be right over there.” Jonathan nods to a spot by the wall about four feet away before he strides off.
“Storm guards you very well,” Brian says w
ith a smirk.
I’m not about to tell him about my near-death experience. The scar on my hand has healed to the point it’s barely noticeable. Besides, I don’t feel like sharing that bit of news. Not with him. Not with anyone. The news about the fire never hit the news. Gabriel made sure it wouldn’t by greasing the palms of the local fire department and police force. When a local newspaper reporter inquired about the fire at Winterleagh, he was told a small kitchen fire brought on the fire brigade.
“I’m his wife. Of course he cares about my protection.”
Locking both arms across his chest, he rocks back, sporting a smug grin on his face. “Or maybe he’s afraid you’ll stray. Your reputation precedes you.”
What reputation? I lived the life of a nun for the three years before I met Storm. But maybe Brian knows something about my first year in college when my party-girl style almost lost me a full-ride scholarship. But how does he know? Did he delve into my background? And what the hell is he doing here at my gym? Did he join just so he could run into me? So many questions.
I came here to get away from all the turmoil in my life, only to discover something sure to send me off the rails. I need to get away from him and calm down. “Excuse me.” I climb off the elliptical machine and try to skirt him, but he blocks my path.
Jonathan comes to full alert and takes a step forward, but I wave him back. The last thing I want to cause is a commotion in such a public place. “I have an aquatic lesson to attend.”
“Maybe I should join you,” he says still sporting that lascivious grin.
Like hell he will. “You can’t. It’s for women only.”
“Join me for a drink later on then.”
What is it with this man? Can’t he take a hint? I don’t want to cause a scene, though. More people have arrived. They’re scattered among the exercise machines, some close enough to hear me if I raise my voice. Goodness knows the slightest thing I do is cause for a scandal or a mention in the news. Something I try very hard to avoid.
In a very soft voice, I whisper, “I don’t have drinks with men other than my husband. Goodbye, Brian.” And with that I head for the women’s dressing area to change into my swimsuit. Jonathan follows as far as the entrance where he’ll hang until I emerge from my swim class.
I glance back toward where Brian stands. Arms crossed against his chest, eyes half mast, a smirk on his lips. Like he anticipates owning me. “Jonathan?”
“Yes, Mrs. Storm.”
“Do you think you could teach me martial arts?”
He tracks my gaze to Brian, who shrugs before he walks away. Like Jonathan is no big deal to him.
A cocky grin rides Jonathan’s lips as he faces me once more. “Yes, ma’am.”
Confident now, I smile in return.
“See you in forty-five minutes, Mrs. Storm?”
“Yes.” I touch his arm. “Thank you, Jonathan.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
I sail into the dressing room, more at peace than I was before. If Brian Sullivan tries anything, he’s not going to know what hit him back.
Chapter 10
______________
Gabriel
“BACK FROM THE GYM?” Of course, I’ve known where she’s been. I always do. Her guards keep me apprised of all her comings and goings, even if she does not.
“Yes.”
“Join me for brunch? Jorge prepared your favorite. Blueberry French toast.”
Her face scrunches. “Better not. I just spent two hours at the gym.”
“You’re gorgeous, Elizabeth. A slice of French toast won’t destroy all your hard work.” She’s trimmed down from her exercise regimen, but the enticing curves still remain, tempting me to reach out and touch what is mine. But the no-sex rule, and the warning in her eyes, caution I better not. Still, I hold out my hand, hoping she’ll take it for the peace offering it is. “Please.”
“Okay. Maybe one slice.” Ignoring my hand, she heads toward the dining room where a mountain of French toast and bacon await on the buffet, along with a pitcher of orange juice and a carafe of hot coffee.
Sunday mornings our staff serves the food and disappears into the bowels of the kitchen, unlike every other meal where we’re waited on hand and foot. So for the moment, we’re alone.
Elizabeth fills her plate, heads for the other end of the table miles away from where I normally sit. The formal dining room table is fine for dinner parties. But for cozy tete a tetes? Not so much.
After I pile food on my plate, grab a cup of the caffeine and a glass of juice, I take my seat. For a few minutes we dedicate ourselves to the meal without engaging in conversation.
“How’s Brianna?” I ask, once my hunger is assuaged. Well, at least the one that doesn’t burn with lust for her.
“Pissed off at you. You need to talk to her.” Eyes flashing, she bites down on a rasher of bacon.
“I called her. When she didn’t pick up, I took the stairs to her apartment and knocked on her door. She didn’t answer.” I shrug. “Hard to talk when she won’t respond.”
“I found a note when I returned from the gym. She’s gone to her spa. You’d know that if you’d checked with her security guard.”
“I don’t check up on her, Elizabeth. She’s a grown woman and entitled to her privacy.”
Her eyes narrow as she chews on the French toast. “You keep tabs on me.”
I don’t bother to deny it. “You’re my wife.”
Very deliberately, she rests her knife and fork on her plate and glares at me. “Why don’t you just ask me about Brian Sullivan? That’s why you asked me in here, isn’t it?”
“I asked you here because I wanted to enjoy your company. But yes, I’m curious about your encounter with him.”
“Did you know he’d transferred to the London office of Smith Cannon?”
I nod. “Carrey informed me last week.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” With a trembling hand, she grabs her napkin and wipes her mouth.
Not what’s that all about? Is she worried about that worm? “I didn’t think it’d be important to you.” Brian Sullivan had asked her out before she met me. He’d been a Smith Cannon associate at the time. But Elizabeth had never shown any romantic interest in him. Except for a couple of business lunches, conducted in public settings, there had been no involvement between them. But given her extreme reaction, I wonder if there was more to their relationship. Something she hasn’t told me about.
“Of course he’s important. He probably stole those documents from your hotel suite, the very ones Carrey used to demand more money from Storm Industries for the SouthWind deal.”
“We don’t know that for a fact, Elizabeth.”
“Are you investigating what happened?” Her breath grows short. Why does Brian Sullivan affect her so?
“Samuel’s looking into it, but he hasn’t discovered anything definite yet.” I squint at her. “Did Brian Sullivan . . . interfere with you in some way?”
Her gaze darts across the space at me. I spot fear there before she drops her lashes to half mast, hiding her expression from me. “No. It’s just . . . I didn’t expect to see him here, that’s all. He took me by surprise.”
She’s lying. He did something to her. Said something to her. Bloody hell. She won’t tell me. Probably afraid of what I’d do to the bastard. But I’ll find out. And when I do, I’ll slice off his bollocks and feed them to him a sliver at a time.
Picking up her fork, she resumes eating. “I didn’t see Edward on my way in. Did he go down to Royce’s place?”
Trying to change the subject, is she? Very well. I’ll go along. For now.
“No. He’s gone back to Winterleagh. Got a call from the contractor who’s putting the castle to rights. Some problem came up, and Edward felt he should be there to handle it. Whatever it was.” I have no love for Winterleagh. Too many bad memories. So I’m glad to delegate the castle’s restoration to Edward. He always loved the place.
A crestf
allen expression rolls over her face.
“Is there something you wanted to talk to him about?”
“The official homecoming dinner at your family’s townhouse. The one Bri suggested last night? I want to find who he wants to invite. Guess I’ll have to call him.”
I get the feeling she wants more than that from Edward. “Is that the only thing you want to discuss with him?”
Another surge of emotion rolls across her face. “Of course. What else would I talk to him about?”
She’s lying. First Brian Sullivan. Now my own brother. God, how many things is she hiding from me? She won’t tell me. And I won’t get the truth out of her. Not here where anyone could interrupt us. But there’s a place we can go where we can be private. I rise to my feet. “Are you done with breakfast? There’s something I want to show you.”
She swallows the last bit of French toast and stands.
Taking her elbow, I guide her through the kitchen where Jorge and Marisol are busy enjoying their own breakfast. “Do you need anything, Mr. Storm?” Marisol asks in her inimitable accent. She and Jorge might have fled Cuba decades ago, but her intonation still reflects her native land.
“No. Don’t mind us.”
“Great French toast, Jorge.” Elizabeth says. As I rush her through the kitchen, she asks, “Where’s the fire?”
Saying nothing, I urge her through the kitchen’s back door where tucked away is a room which hasn’t seen much use. At least, not in the last several decades. Once we step through, I lock the door behind us, throw the switch and the chandelier comes to life above us, shedding light on everything within.
Her gaze bounces around a space roughly the size of a child’s bedroom. The room has become a catch all for cleaning supplies, unused furniture, food storage. “What is this place?”
“Once upon a time it was a private nook. A place where my great grandmother and her husband enjoyed intimate dinners, away from prying eyes.”
“Really?”
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