I wanted to ask how exactly that was, but I didn’t get the chance.
Another clock had struck the witching hour. Not literally, but the demons were gathering nevertheless.
“And really,” Suzanna went on, “I must get down to your father and help him greet the guests. You know how he is when people are late?”
“I’d say you already are.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Once he sees how stunning you look, he’ll understand.” Though I had my back turned, I heard her open the door.
“Mother?”
My neck stiffened. I didn’t need to see to know who was standing at the threshold of my room. I hadn’t let Bryce enter this room since we were teenagers, and now he was here.
“Bryce,” Suzanna cooed. “Don’t you look handsome? Come on in…”
It didn’t matter. I wasn’t the one to offer the invitation.
Slowly, I stood and turned. Our eyes met.
“ALEXANDRIA, STUNNING!”
I secured my smile, the one Bryce had told me to wear. My gaze scanned him from head to toe, assessing him as he was me. His gray suit was tailored to fit, trimmer at the waist, wider at the shoulders. The legs were slightly narrower than the ones Nox wore, yet still considered stylish. He had on an ivory vest, tie, and handkerchief that matched the color of my dress and a white starched shirt.
I stepped closer, reaching for his shoulder. “You’re very handsome yourself.”
Lifting my hand, Bryce leaned toward me and inhaled. “Aww, is that perfume you’re wearing? It’s an improvement over cologne.”
I swallowed my rebuttal and spoke words he’d want to hear. “The only cologne I want to wear is yours.”
Bryce stepped back, holding me at arm’s length. “This is an improvement.”
I stepped forward, pressing myself against him, and kissed his cheek. “This is our party, our formal engagement. I know I’ve fought this outcome, but being with Momma…” I tugged his hand, pulling him toward the yellow bench at the end of my bed. As we sat, I continued, “…being with her today…”
My long mascara-covered lashes veiled my gaze. “Thank you for understanding and allowing me to be there.”
He didn’t speak, but ran his hands over my arms. I consciously didn’t flinch as he tested the area that yesterday was sore. It still was, but I didn’t mention it.
“…when I was with Momma,” I continued, “I realized that this is happening. I could fight you and Alton, but what good would it do? Bryce, she was better for a little bit. She spoke to Jane, but then they medicated her. I can’t leave her. I won’t.”
“And this?” He motioned between us.
“Is my future. Momma tried to tell me. You tried to tell me. I didn’t listen. Next week I want to transfer to Savannah for the rest of my schooling.”
Bryce narrowed his eyes. “Alton thinks it’s a waste of money.”
“After we’re married it doesn’t matter what he thinks. That’s what the will said. It’ll all be ours… As my husband, you’ll make the decisions, not Alton.”
With each phrase his chest inflated, bigger and bigger, like a balloon. If I kept going would he pop or maybe fly away?
“Children?” he asked, not leaving any stone unturned.
“I suppose it’s something we need to discuss.”
He ran his hand over my knee. Unlike the night before, it wasn’t forceful. On the contrary, it was meant to be enticing as he moved his splayed fingers under my dress.
“Talking won’t make heirs.”
Heirs. I hated that word.
I laid my hand on his, the fabric of my dress separating our touch. “No… and neither will coming in my mouth or on my breasts…” I was using his threat from last night. “I believe my momma would love to have grandchildren running these lawns.”
“Like we used to do?” He moved closer until his chest was against mine. Removing his hand from my thigh, he laid it over my breasts. “Your heart is beating fast.”
It was. Like a warning, it was about ready to leap from my chest.
“Because I’m nervous.”
“Of?”
“Them… downstairs.”
“Why?”
“What if they don’t believe us? What if they assume I’m pregnant?”
His lips covered mine, stopping my questions. I moaned as his tongue probed.
It was more of a ‘yuck’ but I prayed that wasn’t the way it sounded. “Bryce?” I finally managed.
“You’re going to do this? You’re going to behave?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s not about behaving. It’s about facing the facts. We’re going to be married. Last night… you…” I stood. “I didn’t like it. I don’t want to be afraid of my own husband. I can’t live like that.”
He stood. Even in my four-inch heels, Bryce was taller. Not as tall as Nox, but tall enough to be threatening. I’d been working on my speech all day in my head while sitting with Momma and Jane, even during the useless meeting with Dr. Miller. I’d hoped I could deliver it in small snippets as mingling allowed. Never had I intended to be alone with him, but now that I was, I hoped I sounded convincing.
“Chelsea?” he asked, his neck straightening.
“Your whore?” I corrected.
A satisfied grin covered his face, his ruddy cheeks lifting under his gray eyes and gelled-back blond hair. “Go on.”
“I-I don’t want to share you, but if I have to, I’d prefer not to be reminded every day.”
He nodded. “I believe we can find some common ground.”
“Savannah Law?” I asked again.
Bryce lifted my hand, bringing the diamond near his lips as he kissed my knuckles. “Let’s get through tonight. The most important thing is that you’ve come to terms with leaving Columbia.”
I nodded.
“Say it.”
I hated this man.
“I’ve come to terms with not going back to Columbia after finishing this semester.”
“Nice add.”
“Thank you. We won’t be married until December 24. The semester will be complete and besides, Alton said—”
“Alton doesn’t know what I know. He doesn’t know about the magical changing dress. I suggest you concentrate on keeping in my good graces.” He shrugged. “No doubt you’ve seen my whore today?”
Each time he casually referred to her in that manner was like a slap. The bruises just didn’t show. Maybe that was his intention.
“Yes, we’ve spoken.”
“Remember, only you can keep her from your punishment.”
I reached again for his shoulder. “I want that too. I promise.”
Again his lips covered mine. This time his hand roamed up and down my side, over the row of individual satin buttons. When his kiss ended, he reached for my hand and turned me, making me pirouette in my sparkling shoes on the balls of my feet.
“Tell me there’s a zipper under those buttons.”
My cheeks lifted and head tilted suggestively. “I can’t. Just think how the anticipation will build.”
“Go,” he said. “I’ve smeared your lipstick. They’ll be expecting us.”
Once in the bathroom, I fixed the lipstick, taking away the smears and adding another coat. As I did, I secured my necklace in the gap of my bra and I lifted the diamond choker that had come with my ensemble. Like the ring I wore, it was ostentatious and would be noticed by everyone.
“Bryce?” I called through the cracked-open door.
The door moved as he stood in the threshold. “Yes?”
I lifted the choker toward him. “Could you help? The stylists left before they put this on.”
He reached for the necklace and stood behind me. Our gazes met in the mirror as he secured the diamonds around my neck. Leaning down, he kissed the area behind my ear. I closed my eyes, blocking him out, hating myself, and again hoping it appeared differently.
“Alex, I want this too.”
Alex.
&nbs
p; Once the clasp was secure, I spun toward him until my arms were around his neck. “Can we forget yesterday?”
“That’s up to you, darling.”
“Me?”
“Tomorrow we’ll discuss it.”
In other words, it depended upon how well I played my role. I nodded. “Tomorrow.”
He took my hand and led me toward the stairs. Just before we made it to the landing, I stopped.
“Oh, I forgot my handbag.”
“Why do you need a handbag; you’re in your own house?”
“I can’t run up here every time I want to freshen my makeup.” I pursed my lips. “You, Mr. Spencer, may have a history with women and whores but you have learning to do when it comes to getting used to a wife.”
He smiled. “Hurry. We’re supposed to be down there.”
“I will,” I called over my shoulder as I skidded around the corner and down the hallway. I moved quickly past my door to Chelsea’s. One knock and the door opened. I reached into my bra and handed her what she needed for her escape.
“Are you sure?” she whispered.
“Shh,” I whispered as I nodded and looked back toward the landing. As her door closed, I rushed back to my suite. Taking a deep breath, I ran toward the bathroom and found my purse. It was crystal encrusted, a Jimmy Choo, and matched the shoes. Before I could exit, I came to a stop, teetering on my heels.
“What?” I asked, assessing Bryce’s expression. Had he followed me? Did he see me with Chelsea? I waited.
“I thought you said you were hurrying?”
Dismissively I shook my head and released a breath. “Again, you have some learning to do. This is hurrying.” I lifted the tube of lipstick and dropped it into the purse. “My handbag’s no good if there isn’t lipstick inside.”
Shaking his head, Bryce offered me his arm. Placing my hand in the crook, I looked up at his gray eyes.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Let’s get this show started.”
Dog-and-pony show. Things never change.
All eyes turned our direction as we descended the stairs. It was a sea of people. I smiled as I scanned for familiar faces. The foyer was becoming more crowded as people continued to flow in.
“It’s the guards,” Bryce whispered as we continued our descent. “Alton’s stationed extra men. He’s very specific about who can enter. They’re doing a rigorous screening. It’s taking longer than normal for everyone to arrive.”
The foyer was almost full yet the door continued to open. As the stairs curved I saw the crowd extending toward the sitting room, parlors, and den. There were people everywhere. “There’s more coming?”
“Over a hundred invitations were sent, so that’s at least two hundred people.”
I gripped his arm tighter. “For an engagement party?”
His gray eyes widened. “You should see Mother’s guest list for the wedding.”
“Alexandria! Edward!”
“Congratulations!”
We moved about the rooms. It was difficult and slow. Everyone wanted to talk to us, to hear our story, how our love had survived through the years.
“Alexandria,” Shirley Carroll came up, extending her hand.
“Mrs. Carroll, let me introduce my fiancé, Edward Spencer.”
Bryce gallantly took her hand. “Carroll? You can’t be Senator Carroll’s wife. Daughter perhaps?”
I nearly rolled my eyes. Was this seriously how he did business? No wonder Nox thought he was a slime. He had used-car-salesman written all over him.
“Oh, Mr. Spencer, aren’t you the most?”
“He is,” I confirmed. “And where is your husband?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. As soon as Doyle arrived, he was whisked off to some secret men’s club.”
Bryce’s arm tensed under my touch.
I turned his way. “Do you think you should be included? This is your party.” I was hoping I was reminding him that after our wedding, he would be in charge, not Alton.
“I…” He scanned the crowd, no doubt taking note of who was missing.
“Really,” I cooed. “I’d love to show Mrs. Carroll around and mingle. I saw Millie and Jess in the crowd. I promise that I’ll be fine. I’d hate for important discussions to happen without you.”
His chest grew as the buttons on the ivory vest strained.
“Oh dear,” Shirley Carroll said to me, “get used to this kind of thing. It’s the way it is. The men always have life-and-death decisions in the balance.”
Bryce turned, put his hand on mine, and leaned in for a kiss. “People are watching.”
I feigned a laugh. “There are hundreds of eyes, now go.”
A waiter approached offering Mrs. Carroll and I a flute of champagne. After we each took one, I nodded. “Can I show you around?”
“That would be fabulous. I’ve never been to Savannah before…”
“Alex,” Pat said a few minutes later, coming up beside me. “Have you seen my significant other?”
“I haven’t. I haven’t even seen you.” I turned to Shirley. “Mrs. Carroll, this is my dear cousin, Patrick Richardson. Pat, may I introduce you to Shirley Carroll, Senator Carroll’s wife.”
“From… California?”
“Why, yes. I didn’t think that people in Georgia would know that.”
Pat’s lips quirked. “I am from here. However, now I live with my partner in New York. It’s your husband’s work regarding the legalization of cultivating marijuana that I’m familiar with.”
I worked to not give Pat a double take.
“Yes, it’s something he’s hoping to push on a national level…”
Once Shirley Carroll stepped aside to speak to someone else, I asked, “What do you know about the legalized marijuana cultivation?”
Pat shrugged. “Nothing. Or I didn’t until last night. While you and I were trying to talk, Spence was giving Cy an earful. According to Cy, Spence was spouting statistics about the potential of growing and manufacturing cannabis in Georgia and then shipping it to states where it’s legal. Just as with tobacco, the environment here has great potential for marijuana growth. Unfortunately, that’s currently illegal. Your friend Senator Higgins is working on a new bill.
“He was telling Cy that with the added support of representatives in states like California…”
I CHECKED MY watch. Deloris was securing the video loop at precisely eight o’clock. The staff change at Magnolia Woods happened at seven. That meant that the nurse currently on duty was Adelaide’s night nurse until five in the morning. Our surveillance had enlightened us as to much about the staff’s habits. While some of the nurses—who Deloris discovered were rarely actually registered nurses—napped in a nearby chair waiting for alarms or commotion from their patients, others read or stared for hours on end at their cell phones, no doubt heightening their social media status with pictures of kittens and puppies or better yet, political propaganda.
Adelaide’s nurse, a big burly man named Mack, was fond of his social media, yet he often chose sleeping as his favorite way to pass the time.
As I eased through the entry from the courtyard—the one that Isaac had left unlocked—I envisioned the scenes I’d watched multiple times. I recalled Mack securing Adelaide’s hands. I heard his tenor as he mocked her social status, calling her an addict. I’d willingly taken the lives of men whose crimes were less offensive.
I scanned right and left. The hallway was clear. Though I kept my face down and away from the cameras, to the possible passerby I shouldn’t be noticed. I looked the part, complete with the white lab coat—identical to the ones worn by the doctors on staff—and an electronic name badge.
My anticipation grew as step by step, I made my way toward her room. Though I’d watched her through the Magnolia Woods feed in Deloris’s suite, it had been years since I’d seen her, face to face. That is, unless dreams count as reality.
It was 8:02. The surveillance from Adelaide’s room was now on lo
op. To anyone viewing it, it would show whatever had happened in the last hour, over and over, until Deloris released the live feed.
Without hesitation, I opened the door. The swishing against the tile alerted Mack that I’d entered. It was unfortunate—for him—that the sound hadn’t told him more about his future or lack thereof. Yet rarely was that as obvious.
Perhaps that was a blessing.
Immediately he stood. “Doctor?” He eyed me suspiciously. “Do I know you? Visiting hours are over.”
“I think you misunderstand; I’m not visiting.”
Adelaide stirred and began to mumble as her head turned from side to side.
Mack turned her way. “Damn depressant is wearing off.”
“O-Oren?”
Though her voice was barely a whisper, my name was clear—to me.
My heart thumped against my chest. Not now, not yet. Don’t talk.
“Don’t mind her. She’s delirious. She babbles about people and names that she’s made up.”
“Has she said that name before?”
He stepped closer, reading my badge. “Dr. Pope? Are you new?”
“No, I’m usually here during the day. Tonight I’m covering for Miller.”
“Usually they tell us—”
“Usually I don’t explain myself. Tell me what’s happening.”
Mack stood taller. “After what happened this morning, there are strict orders—as you probably know—that this patient isn’t to regain full consciousness, not for a while.”
I nodded. “I was informed about what happened this morning. Did you say the medications are starting to wear off again?”
“Yes, this morning they gave her eight milligrams of Versed. As you can imagine, she’s been out. If you’ll sign off, I’ll give her four more milligrams and some fentanyl.” He laughed. “She’ll be sleeping like a baby for the rest of the night.”
“Is that what you recommend, Mack?”
“Yeah, I mean, the standing order is only for two milligrams, but why open the door to trouble? Her husband was pissed off about her talking this morning. The morning shift is taking shit for it. I don’t want that douche upset at me.”
Entrapment Page 31
