Entrapment

by Aleatha Romig

  My legs gave out as I fell down and held onto her knees. “Then why? Why would you do this? Was it really for the money?”

  Bristling at my touch upon her knee, she abruptly stood. “It’s easy for you, isn’t it? You’ve always had it. Even in school, even when they took it. You walked right from one bank account to another. That’s fine. Make assumptions, Alex. Thanks for understanding.”

  “What the hell? I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the one who stepped into my life. I never asked you to do it.”

  “Not you, but you said it would be all right. You said to trust her.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Look at you.” Standing, I grabbed her slim shoulders and turned her toward the large mirror. Standing beside her, I said, “Look at your hair. Think about the way you dress. This isn’t you. It’s me—the Alexandria me. Did you lie to me for four years?”

  She faced me, her eyes blazing. “Is that what you really think? What’s the matter, are you jealous? It isn’t enough that you have Nox, you don’t want me to have Bryce? Well, fuck you. I’m done. I was trying to stay… to help… to take the heat… but fuck you, Alexandria Charles Montague Collins. With each passing day I see how totally screwed up this whole life is. I don’t want it. It’s not worth it. If that’s what you think of me, then you’re not worth it.” She lifted her shirt again. “And good luck with this life. You’re going to need it.”

  Allowing the top to drop, she reached for the doorknob. Just as quick I stood in her way.

  “Chelsea, I don’t get it. I don’t understand.”

  “Of course you don’t. Have you even tried?”

  “Have I tried? No. I’ve been a little preoccupied with my mother.”

  “How bad is she?” Chelsea asked, concern infiltrating her anger.

  “Bad. The DTs from withdrawal are wreaking havoc on her body. It’s worse than I could’ve ever imagined.”

  She nodded. “You needed to be here. No one else would be watching after her, not like you.” She shrugged. “Besides, I think he really does like you. I mean, if he’s capable of it, it’s you.”

  “How long have the two of you…? This started when? Our freshman year? Sophomore?”

  Chelsea paced the small space, shaking her head. “Is that what you think?”

  “It’s what you said. It’s what he said.”

  “I didn’t have a choice, and him… he lies more than he tells the truth. I’m his cover for the Melissa Summers scandal. Did that story work so well that even you didn’t see the truth?”

  “I-I don’t know.”

  “Alex, Bryce is a pig. I hate him.”

  There was a hint of something in her voice. I took a step back and looked at her. My Chelsea wasn’t gone. Hidden under the auburn hair dye and expensive clothes, she was still there. When she was downstairs, she might not have been the same woman I’d lived with, but now hearing a bit of that spark, I knew in my heart that my friend hadn’t been completely broken. Little by little she was trying to come back. “Why would you agree to this, to be his cover… to allow all of this?” I asked, motioning up and down her body.

  “Agree? Allow? Is that what you think?” Indignation returned to her tone. “Are you going to allow it? Because I have news for you: it will happen.”

  “I’m not marrying him.”

  “Really? That’s not what I’ve been hearing. Tonight at dinner Suzanna was going on and on about the perfect gown the two of you found.”

  “This place is an illusion. I’ve told you that before—forever. Nothing here is real.”

  “It feels pretty fucking real to me.”

  As Chelsea sank back to the edge of the tub, I recalled Nox’s request, the reason I’d tried to get her here to Montague and away from Bryce, even if I wasn’t sure I wanted that. “Chelsea, why would Nox ask me to help you?”

  Her eyes lit up. “He did? When?”

  “Um, the last time I spoke to him. He said something about things not being the way they seem.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway. I can’t do this. Just like Stanford. I can’t even be a whore right. Just another item to add to my list of failures.”

  Again I melted by her feet. “Chels, you’re not a whore or a failure. You’re sleeping with a jerk, but that doesn’t make you a whore. You’re smart. They hired you at Montague for HR. I’ve always thought you were one of the smartest—especially when it came to street smarts—women I know.”

  She swallowed. “I-I wish I could explain. I really want to help you, but I have one out and I want to take it. Since you’ve been back, I-I can’t do anything or say anything… he scares me.” She reached for my hands. “Really scares me. He’s said a few things. I might be wrong, but I think it was him in our apartment. If not him, he was involved. I don’t know why and I can’t prove it.”

  One out—what did she mean?

  Before I could process, she was back to the subject of the attack in Palo Alto. “He would do it.”

  “I-I don’t know if he’s capable—”

  With tears again filling Chelsea’s eyes, she nodded. “Yes, Alex, he is. Tell me what happened the first day you arrived, during the night?”

  It had only been days, but it seemed like much longer. I thought back. “I wanted to make a call.”

  “Nox?”

  I shrugged. “Of course, but I didn’t have his number. I had Deloris’s.” Chelsea didn’t speak so I went on, recalling the night. “Alton had taken my phone. I was supposed to be locked in my room, but I had a key. I tried in this wing, room after room, but couldn’t find a working house phone. It was the middle of the night, so I snuck down to Alton’s office.”

  “And?”

  “Bryce was there, waiting. He caught me. He pushed me to the floor…” Saying it aloud made it even worse than when I’d experienced it. “Somehow I convinced him to let me up and let me call. He listened to the call and afterward took the key and locked me back in this room.”

  “Were you relieved he didn’t… take it further?”

  I nodded. “Yes, he was… aroused. I was afraid…” I couldn’t go on. Not with the way Chelsea was looking at me. “Why? Tell me. Did he go back to Carmichael Hall?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s where you were staying?”

  “Yes.” Each response was quieter than the one before.

  “Chelsea, what happened?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m not talking about it. No one needs to hear that and I don’t want to relive it.”

  It was as if someone reached into my chest and squeezed my heart while someone else punched me in the gut. Oh God. What was she suffering for me? This couldn’t go on.

  I stood and paced, back and forth, as my plan and Nox’s went through my head. “I can’t tell you more, but I can help you. I can get you out of here.”

  “And then I’m leaving you. I don’t want to—”

  “No, you’re not leaving me. You’re giving me one less concern.”

  She shook her head. “Can I stay with you tonight in your room? I’d like for one night to sleep and feel… well… safe.”

  I’d never considered Montague Manor as safe, but if it could be that for Chelsea, who was I to stop her?

  “Yes, but in the morning… we fell asleep talking. They can’t know that we’ve made up. They can’t suspect or they might figure out that you’re leaving.”

  “I don’t want to leave without you.”

  “I don’t want you to stay.”

  As we climbed into bed, I asked, “How is your job at Montague Corporation?”

  “Fake,” she said as her head fell against the pillow.

  “It’s not real?”

  She yawned. “You said it, Alex. Nothing here is real.”

  IT HAD BEEN over a week since I’d seen my Charli asleep in our bed. Now I was a voyeur, watching from afar, through an electronic feed from Isaac’s phone.

/>   With everything in me I wanted to be there, to be sure she’d arrive and that the plan had a chance of working. Charli didn’t know what was in store: it was too risky. For this to work, she needed to appear and be completely unaware.

  From the limited view I could see the tea room. From Isaac’s description, the restaurant seemed to be the epitome of girly. It would never survive in Brooklyn and maybe not even in Rye. From the lace tablecloths and tiny teacups to the crystal chandeliers and dainty cakes, I could list a thousand reasons why it was not my kind of place.

  There was one reason that it was, and according to Isaac she’d just entered.

  He whispered his commentary as I waited across town.

  “She’s with two others. I don’t see her security. It seems as though you were right. As long as she’s with Mrs. Spencer, she doesn’t have her direct shadows.”

  “Good,” I replied. “Isaac, my man, I kind of hate you right now.”

  “Because I get to drink tea out of a dollhouse-sized cup?”

  “That, and you’re seeing her.”

  “Boss, if all goes well, so will you. Soon.”

  “Tell me what you see.”

  “They’re sitting. She’s… she’s…”

  “What?”

  “Smiling and talking. I don’t know her that well, but it doesn’t seem genuine. Not like I’ve seen her with you.” He paused. “Not even like I’ve seen her alone. She seems tense, like she’s nervous. Are you sure she doesn’t know?”

  “How the hell could I have told her?”

  “Good point. They’re ordering something and Mrs. Spencer is doing most of the talking.”

  “Is it just the two of them?”

  “No. Chelsea Moore is with them.”

  I wanted to know more—what is she wearing, was her hair up or down—but the things running through my thoughts seemed trivial. I’d never voice them to Oren, but nothing was trivial when it came to my Charli.

  “Sir, more coffee?” the waitress’s voice transcended the phone.

  I waited for Isaac to answer and said, “I thought you were drinking tea?”

  “I had to man up somewhere. This setting you have me in is seriously threatening my man card.”

  “Get her to me and your man card will stay valid.”

  “Waiting.”

  As silence filled our conversation, I thought about why Charli was there—about her mother.

  Since Deloris had infiltrated Magnolia Wood’s system, she’d been following Charli’s mother’s medical records and notations. Mrs. Fitzgerald had recently regained consciousness, though she was still heavily medicated. The doctor believed the worst of the withdrawal symptoms were over. However, she wasn’t able to keep down any food or drink. Instead they had her on intravenous fluids and nutrients.

  The doctor Deloris had consulted asked for Mrs. Fitzgerald’s previous records. Why they hadn’t been sent in their entirety to Magnolia Woods didn’t make sense. It also didn’t matter. Mrs. Fitzgerald’s regular doctor was online. It was only a matter of minutes before Deloris had everything. Currently, our consulting physician was mulling through years of information.

  Oren was determined that we would have everything in place that she needed by tomorrow. He even had a room in Rye converted to a makeshift hospital room, a full-time nurse hired, and a doctor on standby. He believed an actual hospital was too risky, and I had to agree.

  It seemed that Fitzgerald had Charli on constant surveillance, but not her mother, not Adelaide. Other than the regular security at Magnolia Woods, there was nothing extra. No personal guards. No additional cameras. No doubt, Alton Fitzgerald didn’t feel that his wife’s future was a concern, perhaps other than to keep her as bait for Charli.

  Demetri Enterprises had a reputable and well-established security company under our umbrella. It had been in operation for over fifteen years. With their help and Deloris’s hacking skills, the cameras at Magnolia Woods could be easily manipulated. Put on a loop, a determined amount of time could pass without anyone knowing that Mrs. Fitzgerald had been taken.

  Our biggest concern was transport. However, now that she was conscious, the plan was falling into place.

  Charli’s voice penetrated the din of muted chaos in Isaac’s background. I didn’t think Isaac was that close to her, yet I heard a simple sound and immediately knew it was her. My heart stopped. Not literally, but I wanted more. More than just her tone. I wanted words and moans. I wanted it all.

  Just as I thought I might not make it another minute, Isaac spoke, “Sir, it’s happening. A hostess just brought Patrick and an older woman to the table.”

  “His mother,” I confirmed.

  “Miss Collins seems very happy to see her cousin.”

  “Good.” The word came out on a sigh. That was what we wanted, needed, for her to be genuinely surprised by Patrick’s early arrival.

  I imagined Charli jumping up and hugging him.

  I didn’t only hate Isaac, but suddenly, Patrick was on my list.

  “Sir, I’m going to pay and leave. Patrick saw me and nodded. All plans seem to be progressing on schedule.”

  “I hope you’re right. You’re sure you don’t see her security?”

  “Not inside the restaurant.”

  “Thank you, Isaac. Since you drank coffee and not tea, I believe your man card is safe.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The line went dead.

  Now all I could do was wait here in this Savannah hotel suite.

  We hadn’t flown to Savannah, as would have made sense. Instead we flew to Macon and drove two and a half hours to Savannah. Our hotel was reserved under a fictitious name and we were only using cash. While I doubted Charli’s stepfather’s ability to know everything that was happening in his town, I wasn’t willing to jeopardize the future of our plan.

  Even having Isaac at the restaurant was a risk, but we needed visual confirmation, both that Charli and Patrick had arrived and for Patrick, that Isaac was ready with the next step.

  I RELEASED PATRICK’S neck as tears prickled my eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Well, not anymore, little cousin, I’m here.” He reached for my hand and eyed the garish diamond. Wiggling his eyebrows, he said, “Let the celebration begin!”

  He was too jovial, even for Patrick. My eyes narrowed.

  He reassuringly squeezed the hand in his grasp. “What’s the matter? Forget how to have fun?”

  “Probably.”

  “Never fear, I’ll help you remember.”

  “Alexandria,” Aunt Gwen said with a quick hug of my shoulders.

  “Aunt Gwen, what a surprise.”

  “Well, yes, Patrick likes a little fanfare.”

  My cheeks rose. “Yes, he does.”

  The wait staff pulled up chairs, creating places for Aunt Gwen and Patrick to sit. Once I was seated again, I asked, “Pat, I thought you weren’t coming until tonight?”

  “Cy couldn’t come here until then, but I decided if you could have a family reunion, so could I.”

  “And we’re so glad he did,” Aunt Gwen said, patting Pat’s knee. “Dear, how is Adelaide? It’s so difficult to get any information from my brother.”

  “She’s better. They think she’s through the worst part.”

  Patrick’s composure changed. “Is she… was she… is it really…?”

  I nodded, not wanting to say too much. It wasn’t right.

  Chelsea reached for my hand, but before she could give me a show of support, I pulled it away, tucking it daintily on my lap. By the way Suzanna’s lips pursed, our minor display hadn’t gone unnoticed. In the past few days since Chelsea had moved to Montague Manor, we’d managed to keep our renewed friendship covert, as well as to keep her and Bryce’s together moments to public only, at least to our eyes. We’d also managed to monopolize my time with pictures, dresses, caterers, and the like. He was becoming increasingly impatient, with both of us, it seemed.

  As silence fell over the tabl
e, Aunt Gwen asked, “So tell me about the wedding plans? This is rather fast, isn’t it?”

  I lifted my cup to my lips, hoping if I sipped my tea long enough, Suzanna would take over. It didn’t take long and she was on a roll. “It’s because Bryce and Alexandria are too excited to wait.” She widened her eyes. “No other reason. I hope people don’t assume…”

  My stomach twisted, curdling the creamer in the tea I’d swallowed. That was just what I wanted—people thinking I was having a shotgun wedding because I was having Bryce’s baby.

  Before I could respond, Suzanna went on, reciting the plans both set and those yet to be determined—dresses, colors, decisions, and indecisions.

  “Don’t you think red would be beautiful for a Christmas Eve wedding?” Suzanna asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, Alexandria seems to be partial to black, but I think it’s morbid for a wedding.”

  Gwen looked my direction as I shrugged. “Black is formal…” she replied in my defense.

  I tuned them out, wishing I could talk to Pat, wishing I could find out what he and Nox had discussed, and basically wishing I were anyplace but here.

  Abruptly, Pat stood and reached across the table. “Alex, let’s go. I don’t think your mind is on this conversation.”

  My heart raced. What was he doing?

  “Besides, I want to see Aunt Adelaide. Let’s go see your mom.”

  I looked from side to side, my eyes meeting briefly with Suzanna’s. Fuck her. I didn’t need her permission. “Um, yes, I’d like that, but I don’t have a car.”

  “We do,” Aunt Gwen volunteered. “Go ahead, you two. I can take a cab home.”

  “Nonsense,” Suzanna chimed in. “Alexandria has too much to do—”

  “To visit her own mother for an hour or two?” Aunt Gwen asked indignantly.

  “No… well, her father…”

  “Should be there too, but I suspect he’s at work.” Gwen turned to us. “Give her my love.”

  Patrick took my hand as he spoke to the table. “Do not fear, I’ll personally deliver the princess back to the house of… the manor as soon as we’re done. No harm, no foul. We just need to stop by my hotel and then on to the hospital.” He kissed my cheek. “Thanks, cousin, it wouldn’t be a family reunion if I didn’t get to see my aunt.” He turned to his mother. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”