Every Breath You Take

by Judith McNaught

  Mitchell hadn’t wanted to hear anything about his father or grandfather, who had not made a similar overture, and William seemed to accept that at first, but as Mitchell soon discovered, his older brother was like a silent locomotive that couldn’t be derailed and whose arrival at any given point couldn’t be anticipated.

  One night when Mitchell was in Chicago, meeting with Matt Farrell, he’d had dinner with William and his family, and William had played what he hoped would be a trump card to interest Mitchell in exploring his relationship with Cecil. “There’s a great deal of money to be considered—”

  “His or mine?” Mitchell sarcastically replied, even though he already knew Cecil Wyatt was an extremely wealthy man. Caroline had looked down quickly to hide her smile. William had laughed out loud and then sobered. “Half of my inheritance is rightfully yours.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “I’m not asking you if you want it; I’m telling you that I won’t accept it. As your older—albeit perhaps not wiser—brother, I reserve the right to look out for your best interests.” He grinned with embarrassment, and added, “I’ve been thinking about how it would have been if we’d grown up together, and in my imagination, I see you tagging around after me, and me protecting you from bullies, and you, well, you know—”

  “No, I don’t know,” Mitchell said honestly.

  Caroline finished the sentence for him, smiling softly at Mitchell, “—and, you would have looked up to your big brother and asked him for advice, and all that.”

  Mitchell gazed at the “big brother” who was seated at the head of an elegant table in a Chicago mansion. He was several inches shorter, several years older, and many pounds heavier than Mitchell. He was also the most decent, generous man Mitchell had ever met. I look up to you now, he thought, and with amusement, he added, but if you’re going to walk around giving away half your fortune, I’m the one who should be giving the advice.

  Not long afterward, Caroline brought up William and Mitchell’s father, when she and Mitchell were alone, and what she said explained more than merely why Edward still wanted nothing to do with Mitchell. “William’s father—your father—is the most self-absorbed human being I’ve ever met. He strolls through life hiding the truth about who he is from himself and everyone else, and he drinks to make sure he never has to face it. He never paid the slightest attention to William when he was growing up, and that’s why William has been so determined to build a relationship with you,” Caroline finished. “William’s angry that the two of you grew up feeling as if you had no one who cared, when you could have had each other, and he is determined to make up for lost time.” She stood up then because dinner was being served, and tucked her hand into Mitchell’s arm as they strolled to the dining room. “By the way,” she confided, “in case you aren’t aware of it, he loves you, he thinks you’re brilliant and he’s outrageously proud of you.”

  Instead of telling her how he felt about William, which was what Mitchell knew she hoped he would do, he smiled and said, “He’s very lucky to have you.”

  “I’m lucky to have him,” she said simply.

  Now, as Mitchell stood in the suite at the Enclave, he was filled with remorse that he hadn’t at least told Caroline how much he liked and admired William, so she could have relayed that back to her husband, just as she’d done with William’s feelings about him. Why hadn’t he been able to say the words? Why hadn’t he just said them, so that William would have known how he felt before he died?

  With a harsh sigh, Mitchell dragged his thoughts back to the present and focused on what he needed to do. Billy’s fear that his mother would overdose on sleeping pills was groundless, Mitchell knew. Caroline had known all along that William hadn’t vanished of his own volition, no matter what the police thought. She’d also known that nothing would have kept William away from his family except his death. They’d talked about all that often since William’s disappearance. Furthermore, the last thing on earth that Caroline wanted was for Billy to be left alone in the world, so there was no chance she’d ever consider taking her own life.

  On the other hand, there was no question that Mitchell needed to leave for Chicago immediately and lend what moral support he could to Caroline and Billy for the next few days. That much he needed to do for the brother he had … loved.

  Once he explained to Kate why he needed to be in Chicago, she would understand and forgive him, he knew that without a doubt. She was so kind and softhearted that she couldn’t bear to abandon an injured stray dog, so she would instantly realize that he couldn’t abandon Caroline and Billy.

  He could fly back and forth between Chicago and St. Maarten for the next few days. It was only four hours each way, and he could get what sleep he needed on the plane. However, the idea of leaving her behind in another hotel, just as her boyfriend had done, was untenable.

  She’d mentioned that she liked boats, he remembered, and the best possible solution suddenly occurred to him—he could arrange for her to cruise the islands on Zack’s boat during the day while he was gone. She’d enjoy that. In a few days, Zack and Julie, and Matt and Meredith, were flying down for a longer cruise, and she’d enjoy meeting them, too, Mitchell decided, already reaching for his telephone.

  His first call was to his pilots, instructing them to be ready to leave for O’Hare at five o’clock.

  His second phone call was to the hotel’s front desk, notifying them that he would be checking out immediately.

  His next phone call was to Zack in Rome.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  STANDING AT THE WINDOW OF MITCHELL’S APARTMENT in Rome’s Piazza Navona, Julie Mathison Benedict gazed down at Bernini’s spectacular Fountain of Four Rivers. It was evening, and the fountain was bathed in light, the little cafés lining the piazza were serving dinner, and lovers and tourists were strolling by in a steady stream. In the living room behind her, her husband was seated in a seventeenth-century baroque armchair going over his notes on the day’s filming of his new picture. They’d been there two weeks, filming on location, and they were finished in Rome, but Zack wanted to stay a few extra days to shoot some extra exterior footage.

  “I’m going to miss this place,” Julie said, glancing over her shoulder. “I’m even going to miss Giovanni.”

  Zack looked up and grinned. “Really? When did you decide he wasn’t a thug masquerading as a chauffeur?”

  “Yesterday,” Julie admitted, “when he practically threw me into the car and ran after a thief who’d stolen an old lady’s purse.”

  Zack looked up sharply. “When were you going to tell me about that?”

  “Right about now,” she admitted serenely, “when we’re ready to leave Rome and you won’t worry that it might happen again. Did you realize Giovanni has known Mitchell since he was a little boy, when he lived in Italy?”

  “I didn’t even know Giovanni could speak more than a few words of English,” Zack began, but the telephone rang and he paused to answer it.

  When he hung up a few minutes later, he had an odd, thoughtful expression on his face.

  “What’s up?” Julie asked.

  “That was Mitchell. Evidently, he’s met someone in the islands, and he has to leave her there and go back to Chicago. He asked me to call Prescott and arrange for her to go aboard and cruise the islands while he’s gone.”

  Julie studied his amused expression. “What’s the part you haven’t told me?”

  “The best part. Mitchell intends to fly back and forth every day to join her on board.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Very serious. And so, I think, is he.”

  Zack sobered and added, “The reason he has to go back to Chicago is because they’ve discovered his brother’s body.” He glanced at his watch and reached for the telephone to call Prescott. “It’s one-thirty in St. Maarten,” he said, “and Mitchell said he’d be bringing her aboard at five.”

  “Do we have a name?” Julie teased.

  “Kat
e Donovan.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  KATE ZIPPED HER SUITCASE CLOSED, CARRIED IT INTO THE living room, and put it down next to her garment bag. She’d gone over what she wanted to say to Evan so many times that she was afraid it was going to sound like a well-rehearsed speech, even though she felt anything but unemotional about the hurt she was about to cause him.

  With nothing else left to do, she stepped outside onto the patio, and a sense of nostalgia and well-being began to bloom inside her. Only three days ago she’d stood in this spot, talking to Holly on the phone and feeding Max strips of bacon. The future had seemed so bleak that morning, and now it was dazzlingly bright and filled with poignant promise. Everything had changed in three short days. She’d fallen in love.

  Smiling, she walked forward and ran her hand along the patio’s stone balustrade while sweet memories drifted through her mind. At the edge of the garden near the beach was the clump of palms she’d been standing under when Mitchell relented and came back to answer some of her questions … My brother’s name was William.

  On the patio, exactly where she was standing right now, they’d danced together for the first time. She’d mistakenly thought he intended to kiss her and ended up laughing and chiding him: “You might have mentioned that you intended to dance with me, not try to ravish me.”

  “But I do intend to ravish you,” he’d whispered.

  He’d really been outrageously frank about his intentions that night, but he’d wanted her badly enough to change his mind and come back to her in the garden. He’d been just as frank the next day in the suite at the Enclave, Kate remembered with a smile …

  In Chicago, there’s an eligible man who wants to marry you. Here, in this room, there’s a man who wants to take you to bed and make love to you until neither of us has the strength to move anymore. But it can’t go any further than that. It would get much too complicated.

  A few moments later—a compromise. And when Mitchell compromised, he was utterly irresistible.

  “Let’s get complicated, Kate … The truth is that I felt all the same things you did last night, and you know I did.”

  “Kate?” Evan’s voice made her whirl around in time to see him closing the door—a tall, fit, attractive man with brown hair and gray eyes who’d been part of her life for four years. A good man she was going to hurt. “I didn’t think you’d have a key to get in,” she said, as another surge of nostalgia, this one painful, hit her.

  “Since you’re never here,” he said, striding toward her, “I stopped at the front desk and—” His gaze riveted on her suitcases and ricocheted back to her face. “What’s going on?”

  Nervously rubbing her hands on the sides of her pants, Kate tried to smile as she nodded toward the sofa and said, “Come over here, and let’s sit down. We need to talk.”

  “Let’s go straight to the summation instead,” he said coolly. “You’re angry because I left you down here, and I’m just as angry because you paid me back by ignoring my calls and putting me through long periods of daily hell, worrying that your headaches were incapacitating you and thinking about things like brain tumors. Does that about sum it up?” he demanded. Without waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and walked over to the bar.

  And in that bizarre moment, when Kate knew it was over between them, she watched him and understood the reasons he’d appealed to her from the beginning—his intelligence and self-assurance, his ability to go right to the heart of the matter and see it from both sides, and his ability to keep his head when everyone else was losing theirs. These talents made him a superb lawyer and a terrific companion.

  She watched him take a swallow of his drink, and when he lowered the glass and scowled at her, she smiled a little and made a fervent wish that he’d find someone wonderful right away.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  “I’m hoping you get exactly the woman you deserve.”

  “You don’t do sarcasm well,” he observed flatly. “It comes off as sincerity and loses its edge.”

  Torn between laughter and tears, Kate bit her lip and looked down. He’d been more than her lover; he’d been her friend. She was losing a friend and about to hurt him, too. Lifting her head, she drew a long breath and said softly, “I wasn’t being sarcastic, Evan. I meant that with all my heart.”

  His hand stilled in the act of raising the glass to his mouth. With his gaze riveted on her, he reached out and put the glass back on the bar. “What are you talking about?”

  “I met someone here, and there’s something special between us. I have to give it a chance.”

  He was so still it was unnerving. “When did all this happen?”

  “Two days ago. Two and a half days ago,” Kate corrected, trying to make what she was doing seem less insanely impulsive.

  “Who is he?”

  “No one you know. He lives in Europe and New York.”

  “Where did you meet him?”

  “Evan, please—”

  “Help me understand how a man you’ve known for two days can make you throw away a four-year relationship. Give me some details!”

  “I met him in a restaurant here.”

  “What does he do?”

  “I—I don’t know exactly.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “It doesn’t matter what his name is.”

  “It damn well matters to me. I want a name to curse in private. That’s what men do, Kate. We pretend we’re taking things very well, and that our hearts aren’t being broken, and then we get roaring drunk and we curse the bastard who stole the woman we loved.”

  Tears stung Kate’s eyes.

  “You’ve already slept with him, haven’t you?” he concluded bitterly. “It took me two months to get you into bed, and he accomplished it in two days.”

  “I’d better leave,” Kate said, and reached down for her suitcase.

  “Let’s have a name before you go.”

  “Mitchell Wyatt.”

  An expression of utter disbelief froze his face. “Mitchell Wyatt?” he repeated. “You’ve gotten involved with Mitchell Wyatt down here?”

  “You know him?”

  “I know him,” he clipped. “He’s Cecil Wyatt’s bastard grandson.”

  Other than being taken aback that Evan had apparently met Mitchell at some social function somewhere, Kate attached no particular significance to Evan’s statement. As she knew from boring experience, people in Evan’s lofty social class had widespread connections in many cities, they all kept close tabs on each other, and they gossiped incessantly about all that. Long ago, she’d stopped accompanying Evan to nearly all their gatherings. She was just a social worker and a restaurant owner’s daughter, and since her relationship with Evan remained undefined, they didn’t know what to do with her, other than to treat her courteously for Evan’s sake. Kate did the same thing for the same reason. Occasionally, Evan tried to relate a tale from one of these functions, but as soon as he started talking about who was there and how they were related to so-and-so, Kate’s brain automatically changed to another channel before he ever got to the point. She wasn’t completely sure who Cecil Wyatt was, so the revelation that Mitchell could be his “bastard grandson” had no effect.

  “This is one hell of a big coincidence,” he said, sounding as if it might not be a coincidence at all.

  “What is?” Kate asked, relieved that something was distracting him from his hurt feelings.

  “When I met him at Cecil Wyatt’s birthday party, I specifically told him that you and I were going to be down here now, staying at the Island Club. He said he was going to be down here at the same time, staying on a friend’s boat. Forgive me for sounding paranoid, but I find it just a little strange that he supposedly ignored all the women at that party who were flinging themselves at him … and he hasn’t been able to find a single woman to suit him anywhere on any of these islands … until he ‘happened’ to bump into you—in a hotel that he isn’t staying at—and while I’m awa
y. This whole thing doesn’t look like coincidence to me; it looks like payback.”

  “He has no idea I know you,” Kate interjected. “I’ve never told him your name.”

  “The villa you’re staying in is in my name,” Evan retorted.

  Kate saw no reason to argue that inconsequential point, but she was stunned that her desertion was driving him to such incomprehensible leaps of fanciful logic. “Payback for what?” she said calmly.

  “Did Wyatt tell you anything about his background?”

  “I’m not interested in his pedigree or his legitimacy.”

  “Then get interested in it, Kate,” he ordered sharply. “It’s an ugly little story, and it involves my father as well as me.”

  “Okay,” she sighed, “I’m listening.”

  “Until a few months ago Mitchell Wyatt believed he’d been abandoned at birth and that his name had been picked out of a phone book by someone. He attended the best boarding schools in Europe with some of the richest kids in the world, but he was led to believe he was a charity case.”

  Inwardly Kate was appalled, but anxious to get this over with. “What does that have to do with you?”

  “My father created and maintained the entire deception, and Wyatt discovered the truth eight months ago. Now Cecil has suddenly brought him out of obscurity to Chicago, and he’s parading him around like the heir apparent. My father and I are the only ones who know the truth about his pathetic past, and he’s bitter as hell that we do, as well as about the fact that my father actually orchestrated it for Cecil. At Cecil’s party, Wyatt came up to us, and you could have cut through the hostility with a knife. I stepped in and tried to smooth things over with a discussion about our vacation in Anguilla. I told him about you and that your father had just died and that I was on my way to his wake.”

  “Are you saying you told him my name?” Kate said uneasily.

  “Yes. At the time I did it, I was completely clueless about what was eating him. I had no idea until the next morning what Cecil and my father had done to Wyatt as a kid.