Chapter 35
Black Magic
Gemma
ENRIQUE’S VERY PRIVATE home is up a long, gated drive, on a hill that seems more like a mountain.
The rain pounds so hard it’s almost impossible to see the sweeping views of the gorgeous grounds, majestic mountains, and valley’s vista beyond.
As has become customary, Enrique’s wife’s benefit was scheduled to take place in a tent many feet from the house. This year the purpose is to raise money for the addition to the county’s Art and Humanities Center.
However, the rain forced us to move the event indoors or cancel all together. Somehow, Penelope managed to get her husband to agree to hosting the event inside. And not just inside but inside their home.
The thing is, Enrique is nowhere to be seen, so there’s a very good chance he’s unaware. In fact, he’s been in Mexico for days. He was due back hours ago, but the weather has delayed his flight.
The interior of his home is full-on glamour, and I’ve only seen the one room being used for the exhibit. This space I’m standing in is an enclosed porch area with massive glass doors that open to the pool area.
I glance around noticing how happy the guests appear. They think Enrique is a white-collar businessman. They are clueless to his other life—the dark side that affords this kind of living. All they see is the finery—champagne fountains flowing, crystal flutes for toasting, expensive art loaned for viewing, and the best gourmet food being served.
It’s not their fault.
How would they know the evil that their host reigns?
I clap my hands together—this is the home stretch.
The Gabriel Orozco and Mikal Umberto paintings have been relocated to the easels awaiting them and now everything will be in place. Soon the donations will start rolling in, and I can make my move.
Standing just inside the exhibit room, I take a glass of wine from a server as he passes by and in my silver satin gown, the one I wore all those years ago, I try to make myself look invisible. Enrique will be furious when he sees me wearing this. He had selected a white Grecian gown for me to wear this evening. I ruined it with lipstick, but I’ll claim it was an accident.
“My, don’t you look lovely tonight.”
I turn to Penelope. She’s wearing a stunning red gown with a slit up one leg to her hip bone and cleavage dipping almost to her mid-riff. Looks like pure isn’t something she has to worry about. “Thank you, and you look absolutely stunning.”
She smiles at me. “I appreciate the compliment, but to be young again.” She waves her hand at me, over my body. “Back then things stayed where they belong. In fact,” she makes a show of looking around to make sure no one is listening and then lowers her voice, “I wasn’t able to fasten my bustier, do you think you could come upstairs and assist me? I’m feeling very droopy without it.”
This is it—my way upstairs.
Scanning the room, I make certain he hasn’t arrived yet. I don’t see him. Playing it cool, I say, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I don’t think I’m supposed to leave the exhibit.”
She flicks her shiny, dark waves over her shoulder. “Nonsense. It will be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, absolutely. Don’t worry about it. If Enrique has a problem with it, I’ll tell him I insisted.”
Caleb is my bodyguard for the evening and he’s standing not far from us. His role is to be invisible, just as it has been when I’ve been at the museum. No one is supposed to know I have a bodyguard—that Enrique has an interest in me. In his tuxedo, he looks like a guest. A God. Hot. Sexy. Still, I guess he’s doing a good job of blending in because, as far as I can tell, Penelope is oblivious to him.
As soon as I start to follow Penelope, I can see discomfort enter Caleb’s eyes. I know I shouldn’t leave his sight, but I can’t pass up this opportunity. I ignore his warning.
There’s a crowd of people. Penelope stops along the way to greet some of the guests and ignores others.
When it’s just the two of us, I tell her, “Your home is fabulous.”
Over her shoulder, she replies, “It should be. It was designed by world-renowned architect Guy Dreier and cost a fortune. Luckily for Enrique, I was able to do most of the decorating myself.”
I gaze out the two-story walls of glass in the foyer, which highlight the magnificent view. In the living room, the same walls pocket away. “You did this?”
“Yes, I am, well was, an interior decorator before I married Enrique.”
“Well, it’s breathtaking.”
“Design has always been my passion, and my love for it is the reason I spend so much time campaigning for the museum. It’s actually one of the things Enrique once found endearing about me.”
Once.
It doesn’t get past me.
Penelope goes on about her past career, but the art on the walls captures my attention. Not a single piece Enrique has bought on the Mona Lisa is on display.
I find it odd.
Does he actually keep them all for his own private viewing?
Searching for his office with every step we take, I follow her through the magnificent rooms with their soaring ceilings, beautiful artwork, and sleek, stylish furniture. We pass an elegant staircase with two guards stationed on each side, and I feel despair wash over my skin.
What if his office is up there?
How am I going to get past them?
In one of the rooms toward the back of the house is a massive fireplace. Above it hangs a family photo of Enrique, Penelope, and their children. It captures my attention. I’ve never seen his children and most of the time I make myself forget he has them. Now, it’s hard to ignore.
Penelope sighs.
I blink away my doubt of taking him from them.
“We were happy then,” she whispers.
Then?
Not now?
I can’t ask. I can’t go there. “You look it,” I settle on.
Music is playing throughout the entire downstairs. The sound is mesmerizing as we weave through the space.
Candles are lit everywhere and the house is even more extravagant than I’d envisioned.
When we arrive at a granite bar that runs the length of the gourmet kitchen, Penelope takes me up a set of hidden stairs which lead to an upstairs hallway. This is a small, private hallway and there are only two doors. One has a keypad beside the doorframe and I know it is Enrique’s office.
This is almost too easy.
I’d never have found my way up.
Penelope flings the other door open and steps inside. My mind is still on the door across the way.
“Are you coming?” she beckons.
“Yes.” I smile, snapping out of my daze.
The room is a beautiful master suite fit for royalty. Floor-to-ceiling windows with silk draperies covering them, and so unlike the stark barren windows I live with. There are also French doors which must open to the beautifully starlit backyard.
“This is stunning,” I tell her, glancing around. “You’re very talented.”
“Yes, so you’ve said. There was a time Enrique used to think so too.” Penelope walks toward a closet the size of my entire bedroom. “Now it seems he really admires your skill.”
Her typical bitchiness is back, but I choose to ignore the backhanded dig and take the complement at face value. “I appreciate that. We seem to gravitate toward the same type of art.”
“Yes, I know and I have to admit, I find it hideous.”
Again, I bite my tongue, refusing to engage in a war of words. I can’t risk the outcome.
When she steps out of her closet, she’s completely naked except for a skimpy red lace thong. Her breasts are perfect, her skin smooth, and legs long. A bit shocked, I fight the flush of embarrassment when she catches me staring. “I try to stay in the best shape I can for my husband, but sometimes it feels like a losing battle.”
I avert my gaze, becoming uncomfortable. “You’re a beautiful woman,” I offer.
Pulling open a drawer, she yanks out a matching red bustier. “Not as beautiful as you, though.”
I keep my eyes on the floor.
She has the bustier wrapped around her body and has her back to me. “Isn’t that right?” she says, over her shoulder.
“Mrs. Cruz—”
“Fasten me.”
With nimble fingers, I attend to the hooks.
She traipses to her closet and stops in front of it. “I know my husband is infatuated with you, Gemma. And I know he wants you in his bed.”
Dread starts to fill my lungs. “I’m not sure you under—”
She cuts me off. “Understand?” she laughs. “Oh, please, I understand. I know my husband very well. You really don’t think you’re the first he’s attempting to purify before fucking, do you?”
I want to run far from her, but I’m not sure that is a wise move.
Disappearing inside the closet, she raises her voice when she speaks. “I’m going to be blunt, Gemma, my patience is wearing out. I want you out of our lives. In fact, I want you to leave town tonight, and I’m willing to pay you a million dollars to do so.”
A frown tugs at my lips. She’s a wrench in my plan I never calculated.
A plan that is simple.
Grab the necklace. Pretend to be sick. And then poison Enrique’s wine with the ethylene glycol I bought off the dark web when he comes by later tonight to check on me. Then, after he’s dead, I can go get my father and disappear forever.
A simple plan. Or it was.
Penelope is going to ruin everything.
“Gemma, I know you think you’re special. That you’ll have a place in his life. But he’ll tire of you soon. He always does. That’s why you really should take my offer before it’s too late. There are too many things that could happen to a pretty thing like you and you won’t be able to avoid them all forever.”
Avoid them all?
What is she talking about?
Just as she comes out of the closet fully dressed once again, there’s a knock on the door. “Go away. I’m busy,” she calls.
“Mrs. Cruz, it’s Smith.”
“Oh, you’re back,” she says, sounding annoyed.
“Yes, we are.”
“Good, I’ll be down in a bit.”
He clears his throat. “I have some things to discuss with you, and they’re urgent.”
“Fine, come in,” she huffs, obviously not happy that she’s been disturbed.
“I can go,” I offer, thankful for the chance.
She glares at me. “Think about what I said. Let me know by the time the benefit ends tonight.”
I can’t seem to get my jaw to close.
“And remember, this is our little secret.” She swooshes her hand. “Now run along to do whatever it is you do that captivates my husband so much.”
In a flurry, I leave the room, buzzing past Smith, but I don’t go downstairs. Instead, I stop on the first step. As soon as the bedroom door closes, I creep back to the door and place my ear to it.
“Where’s Enrique?” she snaps.
“Still in the car. He’s on the phone.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be up here,” she tells him.
“I thought you’d want to know, Mr. Cruz is on the phone with Maria.”
“Maria?”
“Maria from San Quentin.”
“Why would she call him?” she barks.
“I heard her say she’s worried for her son’s safety and wants his promise that her son won’t be harmed.”
“In exchange for what?"
“I don’t know. Enrique ordered me out of the car before she said anything else. When I was almost to the house he called me back and asked for me to arrange for Gemma to spend the night in the guesthouse.”
“What! I won’t have it.”
“I thought as much.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. It must have something to do with what Maria told him.”
“Well, it couldn’t have been the truth or you wouldn’t be standing here.”
Truth. What truth? I swallow a lump of fear.
“You need to take care of her, now!”
“I can’t get to her.”
A shiver crawls up my spine. Am I the her or is Maria?
“Make it look like it’s an accident. Why do I always have to be the one to come up with the solutions?” she barks, then adds, “No, make it look like her bodyguard killed her.
I am the her.
And she does know about Caleb.
I keep listening.
“He’s very good at his job. I’m not sure I can do that.”
“Well, try.”
“Penelope,” he sighs, “I think we might have made a mistake involving Carlos.”
We?
“You should have taken care of her yourself in Mexico instead of sending those two incompetents.”
“You know I couldn’t. Enrique expects me by his side. He’d sense something if I disappeared. The notes are making him paranoid. We need to stop them.”
“Yes, I think you’re right. I’m sorry, darling,” she purrs. “I know you’re doing the best you can, but you have to take care of her.”
My heart beats out of my chest. Penelope and Smith? Penelope and Smith what? Are they having an affair? No, I doubt it. Is she using him? Pulling him by the balls with promises of more? Of her? That seems more like her.
How long has she known about Enrique and me?
And if I’m not the first, why is she so worried?
What is she up to?
I continue to listen. “Smith, you know this will all be worth it. Enrique will falter, and you’ll be there to pick up the pieces.”
More than likely she’ll be there to pick up the pieces.
Panic floods me, burning away the shock. She wants to control Smith. Control Enrique.
She’s crazy.
Insane, even.
Apparently, everyone has underestimated her, including me, and now she wants my life.
I have to hurry.
Get what I want and get out.
Rushing across the hallway, I stop at the office door. It has a passcode lock on it, and I pray the code is the same as his phone and computer.
My heart bangs in my chest as I key in the numbers that correspond with the word F L A W L E S S, and then it stops when the lock releases. Slowly, quietly, I turn the knob and crack the door open.
It’s a small corridor, like a secret passage. The door closes behind me. I follow the lights on the floor and at the end is a wall.
This can’t be it!
A dead end?
No, it doesn’t make sense. Using the palms of my hands, I search for another keypad, but what I find instead is a lever. Pushing on it, the wall starts to rotate.
A secret entrance.
Slowly, quietly, it opens.
My heart is hammering in my chest.
Peering through the opening, I can see a room. It’s dark, but there’s enough of a glow inside that I can tell by the art on the walls that this is Enrique’s home office—the place he keeps all his conquests.
The place he would keep the necklace.
On tip toes, I step inside the room. Awe overcomes me and I’m momentarily distracted. It’s like a storage room in a gallery in here. Pictures on the walls, paintings stacked against the wall below them. There are also swords, guns, and knives in cases everywhere.
Just as I start to shut the secret door, my breath catches and I freeze right where I stand. Wordless, soundless, I stare straight ahead. There it is—my necklace.
I take a step toward it but freeze before I take another. For a long minute I can’t move because, despite the rain, the moon is pouring through the huge windows like a floodlight and behind an oversized ornate desk sits a figure.
No, not a figure . . . a man.