The tears that coated my cheeks were real. They were tears of joy and tears of cleansing. As time passed, each drop that slowly descended my cheeks washed away a memory. It would take a fucking ocean to erase them all, but this was a start.
My days as someone’s whore were over.
As news spread, so did the people in Stewart’s room. Stewart would never have wanted all of these people to see him in this state so I welcomed each one with open arms. Travis was the first to intrude, and then Parker. There were nurses and doctors, as well as Lisa and other members of the house staff. Val came to comfort me. Even Brody came. As a member of Stewart’s legal team, his presence wasn’t questioned.
In reality, they all entered to see my good work. Of course, none of them knew that. None of them knew that as the clock struck midnight, I was a black widow.
I HADN’T SLEPT, not really. By the time all was said and done and the coroner came and took Stewart’s body, it was after two in the morning. There was no need for an autopsy: his disease was well documented. It was just the formalities that needed to be finalized before he was shipped to the funeral home where he would be cremated. The great Stewart Harrington didn’t want to be seen in the condition he was in prior to death. He sure as hell didn’t want to be seen as he was after death.
Val and Lisa stayed near, helping me as questions came and went. I appeared distraught and overwhelmed. My makeup was gone, and my fine clothes were wrinkled. The bags under my eyes helped project the overwrought widow persona.
Though Parker wanted to discuss Stewart’s legal concerns, Lisa told him it would need to wait until the morning. With single-minded efficiency, she cleared the apartment of everyone who didn’t live there, directly after Stewart’s body was removed. She informed the medical staff that they could return the following day to retrieve their equipment; however, Mrs. Harrington needed calm. With an aching in my temples from my self-induced crying, I was eternally thankful for her command of the situation.
The only one who remained was Val. Her compassion and support overwhelmed me. Her good and caring heart had no way of knowing the darkness in mine. I wondered sometimes how I could keep it hidden, especially from her. I knew I had no choice. She could never know the lengths I’d suffered for her future. I didn’t want her to know. She only knew what the world knew: I married Stewart Harrington, world-renowned hotel mogul. She saw what they saw: the polished, refined younger woman paraded on his arm—arm candy, as my mother so eloquently described me—who became the steadfast anchor to a man stricken down by an unforgiving disease at too young of an age, and who spent hours working with the Harrington Society to take medical care where none could be found.
When we were alone, Val saw her sister: the woman who longed for the days back at the academy and the simplicity of life. However, never would she know the woman who had signed away her life, the one who was sold to pay a debt she didn’t owe. Just before Val left the penthouse apartment, we hugged, and I vowed to myself that no one—ever—would see that woman again. When Stewart’s body was placed into the incinerator and his flesh peeled from his bones, freedom would be found in the putrid smoke and I would be free.
It wasn’t until I was alone in the upstairs suite that I began to relax.
It was done.
He was gone.
Nine years of hell were over!
In my final act of cleansing, I stepped under the warm spray of the shower and washed away the stench of his decaying body. As I did, the memories of Peppermint Man came back, reminding me that I’d been with him less than fifteen hours ago.
Instead of crying, I laughed. For the first time in years, I laughed. Not just a giggle, my stomach ached at the rolling my emotional swing ensued. I would never endure the warehouse again. As the hot water rained down, I savored the purging fluid. I was Mrs. Victoria Fucking Harrington. I had a few more days to play the grieving wife. It is a new role, but I could do it: shaking hands, smiling sadly, even shedding a tear or two when necessary. After all, the acting wasn’t new. I’ve been doing it my whole life. Only now, the truth I kept buried, the one that ate at me day and night since I was old enough to remember, was a reality. Nevertheless, it was too painful to reveal, too upsetting for those around me. I needed to show them what they wanted, what they needed. They didn’t want to see who I truly was… what I truly was. They didn’t want to know that I’m a killer. But now that I’d done it, I knew without a doubt I could do it again.
The next morning, I awoke with a sense of calm. When I entered the kitchen, Lisa and Kristina, my personal assistant, were waiting. “Mrs. Harrington,” Lisa began. “As you know, Mr. Harrington had prearranged his funeral and cremation plans. If you’ll allow us, we’ll oversee everything and assure that it is all taken care of the way he requested.”
I reached out and squeezed Lisa’s hand. With eyes that brimmed with tears, I replied, “Thank you.”
Kristina said, “Mr. Craven’s assistant called. Mr. Craven would like to meet with you this morning. He suggested his office. I told him it wasn’t a good time. However, he was rather insistent. What would you like me to tell him?”
I knew what I wanted. I fucking wanted him on my turf, but I knew as a new widow, I should be less decisive. Therefore, I looked earnestly toward Lisa, the woman who’d been so kind to me, and said, “I-I don’t think I should be out.”
“Of course you shouldn’t. I was hoping you would say that.” Her neck stiffened. “I don’t understand why he thinks this needs to be handled now. Doesn’t he understand how distraught you are?”
I nodded toward Kristina. “I think that if he wants to speak to me, he can come here. But I’d prefer he wait until later.” Turning toward Lisa, I asked, “Where is Travis? I need to speak to him first.”
“He’s here. I’ll have him go to your office after you eat.”
I cocked my head to the side, my lips working to not smile. “Mr. Harrington’s office. I believe the important business of this household has always been conducted in the main office. Tell Travis to meet me in there in thirty minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lisa said, as she and Kristina exchanged looks.
“And let me know this afternoon the status on all of the arrangements.” My command was met with a round of yes, ma’am and Lisa’s reminder of my waiting breakfast.
I’D ALWAYS ADMIRED the view from Stewart’s office. The ocean and sky filling the full-length windows brought sunlight to his domain. I recalled the first time I’d seen it, the first time I’d seen him. I was so young and naïve, though I thought I was strong and worldly. Thankfully, the injustices I’d experienced from an early age prepared me for what life had in store and gave me the strength I needed to survive. Oh, how wrong Stewart had been when he saw me as nothing more than his whore. With a smirk, I recalled the look of horror in his eyes as he realized that not only was I a worthy opponent, but I was the victor!
Everything he dangled before me was mine—it was all mine, especially and most importantly, my freedom!
The knock at the door caused me to spin away from the vista toward the opening door. Not waiting for my invitation, Travis entered. Our eyes met in a silent contest of wills. We remained mute as he closed the door and walked toward the desk. I took the seat that used to be my husband’s and pointed to the other chair. “Have a seat.”
Slowly, he did, his long legs and powerful body folding into the chair. Still his expression was one of superiority. I leaned forward, my long, unrestrained hair cascading over my shoulders. “Tell me how you did it.”
He casually relaxed his arms on the edge of the chair. “What, Mrs. Harrington, what specifically are you asking me?”
“You fucking know what I’m asking. How did you make me believe it was Stewart? I know it was his goddamned voice. What the fuck did you do?”
“I’ll tell you what I did, if you hear me out.”
“You don’t get to fucking give me ultimatums. As far as I’m concerned, you’re no longer employed
by me or by Stewart. I wanted you to come in here this morning so I could tell you to get the fuck out of my home.”
Travis pressed his lips together and shook his head from side to side. “That’s what Mr. Harrington was afraid you’d do. That’s why he tried to mandate that it wasn’t possible. He was so close.” Travis stood. “I’m not leaving. You’re not firing me, and if you’d use your fucking brains half as well as you’ve used your pussy, you’d want to know more.” His glare bore through me. “Oh, fuck it!” He stood and turned toward the door. “It’s no goddamn skin off my back. Personally, I’ll enjoy watching you fall off your fucking high horse.”
“Don’t you fucking leave this office,” I proclaimed with rising volume. “I asked you a question. How did you make me believe it was Stewart?” I refused to dwell on the fact that he’d watched me have sex with Peppermint Man. I doubted it was the first time. There probably had been cameras there longer than I even knew. My stomach lurched. “You used his recorded voice. Didn’t you?”
“You just fired me, Mrs. Harrington. I don’t need to tell you a damned thing.”
“Where are they? How many recordings are there? Are they only audio or are there video?”
His lips quirked into a slimy, lopsided grin. “Just imagine, you could see all the faces of the friends.”
I hated that fucking term. There was no such thing as a friend! “What do you want? Is this blackmail? Do you want money?”
Looming taller, he sneered. “No, I don’t want money. I have money. Mr. Harrington made sure of that.”
Fucking déjà vu hit like a sledgehammer. Stewart’s words from ten years ago came crashing back to me: I have money that I can lend. The thing is I don’t need it. Therefore, I decided that in exchange for the money, I wanted something else, something less conventional in return.
I jumped to my feet. “There is no fucking way I’m going through that again.”
“Like with Stewart. I’m not doing that again.”
Travis’ brows furrowed. “I don’t want to marry you. Hell no! Don’t flatter yourself. However, you’d be wise to learn that there’s a lot about your deceased husband that you don’t know or understand. He’s made deals, many involving you. If you believe you’ll be able to walk away from those deals without repercussions, you really are more pussy than brain.”
“I made a deal with my husband, not with anyone else. I’ve fulfilled my obligation.”
Travis shrugged. “I guess you’ll find out more when you talk with Mr. Craven. I thought you might want to go into that conversation informed.” He cocked his head. “My bad.”
I closed my eyes and gathered my strength. Sitting back down I calmly repeated, “I asked you a question. I’m sure it was you yesterday. As your fucking employer, I’m asking you how you did it.”
“You just—”
“Tell me and we’ll discuss the future.”
Travis came back to his chair and sat. Taking out his cell phone, he did what I feared most: he opened an app and held up his phone.
“I’m here, darling.” Stewart’s voice came back from the grave, taunting me. Travis pushed the button again. “Nod if you understand.”
Swallowing my contempt, I asked, “Only audio or video too?”
“This one is only audio. I recorded key phrases. It took me a while to find the one for you to take him in your mouth. That’s why it seemed like dear old hubby wasn’t paying attention.”
Again, my stomach twisted and neck muscles tightened in a familiar way. “This one?” I asked.
Travis cocked his head to the side and raised a brow.
“You said that this one was only audio. I’m assuming you have more.”
He nodded.
“You don’t want money? Everyone wants money. How much will it cost me to make this all go away?” I looked at my watch; Parker Craven was due to arrive in less than fifteen minutes. “How much will it cost to have you tell me what you know?”
“I told you, I don’t want money.”
I leaned back. “How do I even know you have more information or videos or anything? You may have just shown me all you have.”
“I might have. Is that a chance you’re willing to take? Did you know about the change Mr. Harrington tried to make in his will? I bet not. But if you did, you’d know that the reason it didn’t happen wasn’t because he died. It was because Parker Craven was stonewalling. He personally wanted what Mr. Harrington wanted me to have.”
“Me?” My voice sounded too meek for my own ears. I sat straighter, my tone more confident. “I did know about it. I also know that you can’t fucking will another person. I’m not a damn car or a pet. I’m a person.”
Travis’ eyes widened. “Oh, the bitch is better informed than any of us knew.” He shifted in his chair. “He wasn’t willing you, only your contract. If you’d open your fucking eyes, you would’ve realized he was doing that for your own damn good.”
I blinked, trying to follow his words. “My own good? Bullshit! There was nothing about my contract that was for my good. It was all about him.”
“You’re a fucking hot piece of meat. I’ve watched everyone from investment bankers to politicians fuck your brains out.” He lowered his voice. “It’s true that I wanted my fucking turn. I’ve waited a damn long time, but first, listen, and listen well. Mr. Harrington believed your contract was in better hands with me than with Parker Craven. So when he walks in here and tries to convince you otherwise, keep this in mind: I know all of Stewart Harrington’s dealings, not just the ones that have been legalized by Craven and Knowles. There’s more to Harrington Spas and Suites than meets the eye—much more. There’s a whole world that your dear old stepdaddy knew too well. Those men that Mr. Harrington told you about are more than some obscure force: they’re the living breathing underground of Harrington Spas and Suites.”
I tried to comprehend Travis’ meaning. “The loan sharks? The ones who had Randall killed.”
He nodded. “Yes and no.”
The phone on my desk rang, shattering the intensity of our conversation. After staring, I took a breath and picked it up. It was Kristina. “Mrs. Harrington, Mr. Parker Craven is here.”
“Tell him I’m in a meeting. I’ll be with him as soon as possible.” I hung up the phone.
“What do you mean…?” I asked Travis. “Yes and no.”
“Loan sharks and high-end pimps, among other things. Randall was ready to work out a trade with them. You. You were the commodity, until Mr. Harrington stepped in. He bought out Randall’s deal. He saved you from them. They weren’t happy. To pacify them for overriding the deal, he agreed to share you.”
“That’s bullshit. He enjoyed sharing. It was for him.”
“He enjoyed it,” Travis agreed, “but it wasn’t just for him. It was for you.”
“For me? Why? And why would Randall do that?”
“They requested you. Your stepfather didn’t volunteer.”
I shook my head. “How would these people even have known who I was, ten years ago?”
Travis straightened his neck and squared his shoulders. “That’s something I can’t tell you.”
My gray gaze narrowed. “You can’t or you won’t.”
“I guess, I won’t.”
“Who are they?”
“They’re powerful people and lowlifes. They’re the people who run this city, this state, some who even fucking run the country. They are people you see at the country clubs and on the street corners. They’re people who know you and those you’ve never seen. They’re people who want to repay you a cruelty and people who don’t give a damn if you live or die. They’re people who have fucked you and people who have never touched you but royally fucked with your life.” He leaned in. “They’re your worst nightmare. And believe it or not, now that Mr. Harrington is gone, you’re looking at the only one who can save you from them.”
“Parker?” I asked with trepidation.
“Is one of them. Just like the friend yes
terday. Mr. Harrington didn’t want to disappoint them. That’s why I did what I did. If you hadn’t heard your husband’s voice, you probably would’ve freaked out. You’re not ready to know whom you’re dealing with. Parker Craven is one of the people who’s indebted and entranced. You’re his way out. That’s why he wouldn’t complete the will. Mr. Harrington wanted your contract to go to me. Mr. Craven wanted it for himself.”
“What am I to you?”
Travis scanned me from breasts to eyes. “You’re a bitch. You’ve been a pain in my ass for ten years. You’re also fucking stronger than I ever thought. I want to do what Mr. Harrington never could or would. I want to see those fuckers pay and I think together, we could have the right amount of endurance to see it through. You see, I have my own history and set of issues with those people. Mr. Harrington helped me too. The difference between him and me is that I don’t have anything to lose. I think it’s time those assholes paid for what they’ve done to me and to you. Don’t you agree?”
My phone rang again. “What?” I asked, my mind reeling from Travis’ declaration.
“Ma’am, Mr. Craven…”
“Kristina, tell him I’m too distraught to meet with him today. Tell him that we’ll need to reschedule after Stewart’s funeral.”
I looked up to Travis’ smug expression. Hanging up the telephone, I said, “I don’t believe you. You’ve never given me any reason to trust you.” Although I did know that Stewart trusted him implicitly. “But I want to think about what you said before I make any—”
The sound of Kristina’s raised voice and the opening door stilled my words. My eyes widened as I watched Parker Craven push his way past my assistant, only to be stopped dead in his tracks when he was met chest to chest by Travis.
Chest to chest was not quite accurate. Travis stood a good five, or six inches taller.
Insidious Page 18
