by Ward, Deena
Xavier looked at me sharply. “We’ve talked about this.”
“I know. I just ... come on. They offered me the job to be nice. I couldn’t do it.”
“That’s fine, but there’s no reason to assume you’d fail at the job. You’d have a lot to learn, but you’re capable of learning it.”
“I suppose.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“So what’s the real reason you turned down the job?”
I sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Sure you do.”
“I don’t.”
“Could be pride.”
I pursed my lips. “Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“So you’re an annoying man sometimes.”
He shrugged.
I tugged on my line, took a sip of water. “If I’m so prideful then what am I doing here freeloading off of Gibson, and you and Paulina?”
“Oh, not me and Paulina. This is all Gibson. You’re freeloading off of him alone.”
I had a mental “ack” moment, hearing Xavier say it out loud the way he did. I could call myself a freeloader all I wanted, but it was different hearing someone else say it. “You’re right. I should leave.”
“No, you shouldn’t. And if you try, we’ll do our best to stop you. However ...”
He paused for a moment, turned to catch my eye and held my gaze with his own warm, steady one. “Since I first saw you, before I ever actually met you, I sensed something in you, that you were someone on the verge of action. You wouldn’t be stopped from breaking free of whatever was holding you back.”
He turned to the lake. “And now, here you are. Stopped. A woman of action, refusing to move.”
My face flushed. I felt my pulse ramp up a bit. “I didn’t stop it. Michael did that to me.”
“At first maybe. But that’s not why you’re stopped now.”
I flicked my rod up and down, watched the bobber dance on the surface of the water. I wanted to snap at Xavier, tell him he didn’t know what he was talking about. Instead, I said nothing.
He gave a quick pull on his rod and the line tightened in the telltale visual that he had caught a fish. The rod bent as he rapidly reeled in the line. It didn’t take long before he landed a good-sized trout.
I complimented his haul as he removed the hook and tossed the fish into the holding basket. Soon, he had a freshly-baited line whizzing out over the lake.
He settled back and dug a couple of butterscotch hard candies from his shirt pocket. He handed me one and together, we unwrapped the candies and popped them in our mouths.
The sugary scent of the candy mingled with the lake smells. The water lapped gently at the dock posts, and dragonflies buzzed the surface of the water.
I didn’t say what I wanted to say, which was that maybe this place had spoiled me, and I’d never been anywhere so magical, so perfectly easy, and maybe that was why I couldn’t make a plan, why I couldn’t move. Any plans I might make involved leaving. No one in their right mind would want to leave this place. Or these people.
Or one, powerful man in particular, a man who visited me in my dreams and called me beautiful, who touched me in a way that made me believe no one had ever humiliated or degraded me. With him I felt whole again. Maybe only with him. Maybe only here.
How could I move if the only path I could travel led me away from what I needed most?
But I didn’t say any of that to Xavier. We sat in silence and enjoyed the sweet butterscotch. And waited for the fish to bite.
Chapter 2
At seven o’clock that evening I stood before the kitchen door and willed myself to knock. Some perverse side of me had turned me away from the front of the house and led me to the back side, to the ivy-framed kitchen door of the massive, Italian-villa style home.
The formal, arched stone entryway to the house scared me away for some reason, made my invitation to dinner seem too much like an event. If I showed up at the kitchen door, then I was just a neighbor over for a casual meal.
Anyway, when Gibson was gone, I always entered the big house through the kitchen.
I knocked on the door, expecting to hear Xavier yell out for me to enter. Nothing. I knocked again, and when no answer came, I turned the knob and let myself in.
After taking a quick tour of the big room, I realized no one was there. I noticed some dishes on a counter, covered pots on the stove, and a large pan warming in the oven. I rapidly deduced that Xavier had made the meal, then left for his own home.
I debated between wandering into the house at large and yelling around for Gibson, or backtracking outside and knocking on the front door like a normal person would have done in the first place. I opted for the normal approach, for a change.
I had just reached for the door handle when I heard a sound behind me.
“There you are,” a familiar voice said. “Trying to sneak out before we even eat?”
The smooth, deep tones sent a warming tendril curling in my belly. Gibson.
I turned and looked at him a little shyly. “I never know what the protocol is here.”
He looked his usual handsome self, his dark hair brushed back from his forehead. He was dressed casually this evening, in cotton pants and a jersey shirt. His smile told me he was pleased to see me. “No protocol. Just me.”
“I guess. I keep getting the feeling that an elderly lady is going to pop out of a corner and scold me for not having manners appropriate for a mansion.”
“Then she’d be more guilty of bad manners than you.”
“She wouldn’t care. She’d say, ‘It isn’t done, Missy. It’s simply not done!’”
“Sounds like you’ve thought this through.”
“I may be watching too much ‘Masterpiece.’”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “I still say she’d be out of line. And this is hardly a mansion.”
“How many rooms does this thing have — thirty? More? That’s a mansion.”
The door swinging open ended our debate. One of the servants came up short when she saw the two of us standing in the middle of the room.
“Don’t mind us, Charity,” Gibson said. “We’re on our way to the dining room.” He looked at me and motioned to the door. “Shall we?”
I nodded and gave Charity a quick hello as I passed her. She was an introverted, shy young woman, who I’d met during previous forays into the big house.
Gibson told her she could go ahead and serve our meal as soon as she was ready. I led the way out the swinging door and down the hall to the dining room.
I liked the dining room. It wasn’t an ornate formal room, but instead, like the rest of the home, of a rustic design. Everything may have been modeled along the lines of historical Italian villas, but in a rural, farm-like sort of way.
Xavier told me that Gibson’s father built the house, but that he hadn’t completed it at the time of his death. Gibson finished what his father began, furnishing many of the rooms with treasures from his travels.
The dining room, for instance, had a huge, rough-hewed table that must have weighed a ton. It had all the gouges and flaws that come with great age. It was gorgeous, and suited the exposed beams in the high ceiling, the unpolished patina of the picture frames and bureaus.
Gibson pulled out a chair for me. “I hope you don’t mind that we’re eating right away. I’m starving and haven’t had a decent meal since I left home.”
I assured him I didn’t mind, and busied myself with laying my napkin on my lap.
He poured us both some wine, then sat at the end of the table near me. He sipped his wine and appeared contented with it. “I hear I should thank you for our dinner tonight. Xavier said you were kind enough to catch our main course.”
“I only caught one. Xavier caught the others.”
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a fisherwoman.”
“Why not?”
“Good questio
n. I’m not sure.”
“Well, you were right,” I said. “I’ve never been big on outdoor stuff.”
“You seem to be taking to it now.”
“I like fishing, anyway. I’ve been trying to figure out what Xavier puts in his special bait.”
Gibson gave a wry grin. “Good luck with that. I’ve been trying to get that secret out of him for more than a decade and he’s never even given me a hint.”
“I might as well give it up, then. If he hasn’t told you, he sure won’t tell me.”
“I don’t know. He’s taken a liking to you.”
“I like him, too. He’s ... well, he’s good company. Easy to be with.”
“True. How are you liking everyone else? And the estate? Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Everyone’s wonderful. And you know how amazing this place is.”
He nodded slowly. “Good. You look better. Your color is improved and you’ve filled out again.”
I sat my glass on the table and arched an eyebrow. “I suppose I should accuse you of calling me fat. Consider yourself accused, and me offended.”
“Done. And I hope you’ll consider yourself groveled to, and that I’ve thoroughly regretted ever mentioning it.”
“Done.”
We grinned at one another.
I realized that for the first time in a long time, I was happy.
Charity broke the moment by bustling into the room and delivering a pair of salads to the table. She poured some water into our glasses then rushed back out again.
My plate was loaded with crisp, mixed greens and vegetables from Paulina’s greenhouse, and the dressing was made with fresh herbs from Paulina’s gardens. During my time at the estate, I didn’t believe I’d ever eaten as well.
Gibson and I kept our conversation light during the meal, mostly commenting on the food, on Xavier’s cooking talents, on Paulina’s green thumb, and on the bounty of the estate. I entertained Gibson with the tale of the first time I caught and gutted a fish, and about how many omelets I burned before Xavier managed to help me make one that was edible.
Gibson, in turn, told me about the biggest fish he ever caught and how Xavier had long since given up on him ever being able to cook anything that wasn’t on a barbeque grill. Apparently, Gibson was a mad griller.
The trout was delicious, as was the desert of fresh compote made from the fruit that was picked in the orchard. Everything we ate that night was grown on the estate.
When we finished, Gibson led me into one of the sitting rooms. I sank into the soft, aged leather sofa and drank the coffee that Charity served us before Gibson told her he wouldn’t be needing her any more that night.
I knew something was coming, of course. I didn’t imagine that Gibson had invited me over for a simple dinner and chitchat. And I didn’t dare to dream that he had brought me here to seduce me. He hadn’t even so much as kissed me since the day I accosted him in my apartment and basically demanded that he service me.
Gibson leaned back in his big easy chair, one ankle crossed over his knee, a pose that was becoming familiar to me. He set his coffee on the side table and looked at me.
Here it came, I thought. Whatever it was, it was coming now.
“I thought you might want to know that I decided not to purchase Linton Cosmetics,” he said.
“Huh,” was my only response. I was surprised. Was this news the reason why he invited me? Didn’t seem important enough to warrant a dinner invitation. Still, prior to being forced to quit because of the pornographic videos Michael Weston had made of me, I had worked for Linton Cosmetics for many years, and I was close to several people there. Or at least, I had been close to them, once upon a time.
I studied Gibson’s face. He seemed relaxed, no sign of that enigmatic mask of his. “What made you decide against it?”
“It turned out the Linton family had only one thing I wanted, and once I got that, I found I wasn’t interested in the actual business anymore.”
One thing he wanted. He meant me, perhaps. But he didn’t actually have me. “I imagine the Lintons are disappointed, and I’m not sorry for it. I’m sorry for Isabel, though. She wanted the sale to go through. Now she’ll be forced to keep dealing with the Linton family.”
Isabel Vinson was my former boss and mentor. She hadn’t wanted to let me go, had fought to allow me to quit instead of being fired. She promised to rehire me when the sale of the business went through. That wouldn’t be happening now. Not that it mattered. Too many people at Linton Cosmetics knew about my videos, making it impossible for me to ever work with them again.
“Isabel is fine with my decision,” Gibson said. “She put in her notice, and she’ll be heading up the cosmetics division at Roundtree Holdings by the end of next month.”
“You didn’t! You hired Isabel away from Linton?”
“I did.”
“That’s fabulous, Gibson. The Lintons must be furious. Oh, I wish I could have seen their faces when Isabel told them. That must have been epic.”
“I can only imagine.”
“I’m so happy for Isabel, and you, too. You’re lucky to get her.”
“I agree.”
“Wow, well, that’s great,” and I trailed off as a thought occurred to me. Isabel was the one thing he wanted at Linton Cosmetics. Not me. Well hell. Still, it was great news.
“I also thought,” Gibson said, “you might want to know that we believe all the DVDs of your videos have been confiscated and destroyed. Also, there’s been no evidence of your files floating around the Internet. It’s likely we caught it early enough that no one had a chance to back up their purchases. Regardless, your files remain on a watch list. I think that for all practical purposes, we can call this a positive final outcome, and you don’t need to worry about it anymore.”
The smile had fallen from my face with this news. It wasn’t that I wasn’t pleased to hear it. I was. It was simply that I tried not to think about those videos. I had become adept at pretending the videos didn’t exist, that nothing bad had happened, and I could maintain the delusion for hours at a time.
Nonetheless, I was grateful. “Thank you. What you did is remarkable, and I’ll never forget it.”
As was usual with him, Gibson waved off my thanks. “I have more news, and I’m sorry that it isn’t all good.”
“Oh, okay. Well ...”
“We’re still unable to pinpoint Michael’s location, though we’re narrowing it down more and more.”
“I don’t care about that. I told you. There’s no point.”
“I think there is,” he said, his voice low and firm. “I haven’t told you, but Michael isn’t the only man I’ve been seeking. I’ve been looking for the other men in the video as well.”
I forgot to breathe for a moment, felt the room tilt.
He noticed my reaction. “Just hear me out. I easily tracked down the cameraman and the audio man. It didn’t take much to convince them that their futures would be best served by pursuing new careers in another part of the country. They’ve been gone for a while now.”
I didn’t know what to say. Wasn’t sure what to feel. So I just sat there, letting this new information sink in. I played out the scene in my head.
I imagined Gibson in full, dead-calm force explaining to the two pieces of cowering scum that they’d worn out their welcome in the city. I pictured the two men scrambling home, throwing a few things into a bag and running away before Gibson ... before Gibson did what? I didn’t know. Something awful. Before Gibson did something awful that they’d dearly deserve.
And then I knew how to feel. Gratified. That was the only word for it. Gratified that Gibson made them run away. And relieved. Relieved that I would never see them on the street, or in a store, or a club. I’d never see them again. Gibson would make sure of it.
I was glad he’d run them off. I hoped they were terrified. Hoped they stayed terrified.
If Gibson and I were still lovers, this news would have earned him what
ever the hell he wanted from me. Of course, I was pretty much willing to do that anytime. As it was, I couldn’t recall a time when he looked sexier.
Gibson eyed me closely. “Unfortunately, I’ve been less successful finding the third man, Kamun.”
With that, whatever I was feeling changed into a sick twist in my gut. Kamun. It was foul on the tongue and revolted the ear. Kamun.
“Are you okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled, not trusting myself to speak.
“From what we’ve pieced together,” he continued, “Kamun went on the run not long after Michael left town. He was on his own for a while, then he met up with Michael in Brazil. As far as we know, they’re traveling together now. Kamun’s only family is an elderly father and a younger brother, both of whom he’s estranged from. They say they haven’t heard from him in years, and I’ve no reason to doubt them.”
God. Kamun was with Michael. The two filthy fuckers together, roaming who knew where, doing who knew what. I couldn’t stand the thought of it. Didn’t want to think of it. I wished Gibson had never told me.
Gibson rose from his chair and sat beside me on the sofa. “Look at me.”
I did, but not without hesitation.
He reached out and took my cold hand into his warm one. “I don’t want to upset you with this. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t believe it was necessary. You’re doing better now. You’re stronger. I think it’s time that you face what happened.”
I tried, unsuccessfully, to pull my hand away. “I’ve done nothing but deal with what Michael did. I don’t have any choice but to face it.”
“You’re not, though. You’re in limbo. You won’t be able to move on until you understand what happened, until you face it head on.”
“That’s ridiculous! I know what it was.”
“What was it?”
I swallowed hard past the lump in my throat. “Don’t make me say it.”
“You have to say it. Not saying it gives it power.”
“Fine then. It’s betrayal, Gibson. That’s what it was. It’s shame. Degradation. Humiliation. Is that enough? Have I said enough?”
“Yes, that’s plenty,” and he tried to hug me.
I held up my free hand to stop him. I couldn’t be hugged right then. He didn’t push me, but he still wouldn’t let go of my hand.
