Chapter Eight

Annabelle

We spend the rest of the morning in absolute laziness by the rooftop infinity pool. It holds a special memory for me since it’s the place where Elliot and I had our first dinner together as a married couple. And afterward, he seduced me. Delicious shivers run down my back at the memory.

“You sure you don’t have to work?” I ask.

“If anything were blowing up, I’d’ve gotten a call by now.” I glance at his phone, which is blissfully quiet.

I have no interest in swimming, but I do want to sun since I’m so pale. And I can read the novel I’ve been dying to start for a couple of days, the sequel to the sexy fireman romance. My face heats, remembering how Elliot found me reading it and reenacted one of the sex scenes. Oh my god, hot. If I were alone, I’d be fanning myself.

Elliot does a few laps now and again, his powerfully muscled body cutting through the water like a shark. He looks so yummy, and I can’t help but feel a tinglingly female appreciation for such prime male physique. I wouldn’t object if he swam naked, but I’m not brazen enough to suggest it.

I hear the intercom buzzing. “Lunch,” I call out, shrugging into a robe. I go to the door to take delivery from the local deli, and hand fifty bucks to a clean-cut guy who’s probably no more than a college sophomore. “Keep the change.”

His mouth opens, then he beams. “Oh-ho-ho, sick! Thanks!”

I shut the door and return to the rooftop pool. Elliot’s out of the water, his gorgeous butt parked in a lounger draped with a long, fluffy towel. I hand him his roast beef sandwich—extra horseradish gravy and one slice of tomato, no lettuce or pickles. I settle down to soup and salad.

“Dainty,” he teases.

“I’m not that hungry. I had a late breakfast, remember?”

Grunting, he bites into his food. The man loves to eat, but somehow manages to stay lean and fit. Must be all the exercise.

“By the way, what was it you wanted to tell me?” I ask after a few spoonfuls of the homey chicken and rice soup.

Elliot’s already almost finished with his lunch. Something uncomfortable crosses his face. “Nonny was forcing herself to stay awake at night.”

I blink. “Did she say why?”

“She was worried about you.” His words are measured and calm. Too measured and calm.

“What does that have to do with her staying up?” A thought strikes me. “So she doesn’t have insomnia?”

He pushes the remains of his sandwich away. “I don’t think so. She thinks you might try to hurt yourself. So she’s staying up to make sure you don’t.”

I stare at him, unsure how to take this. “What, like sleepwalking?” I say finally. “Why would Nonny think that?”

“Did you try to hurt yourself when you were fifteen?” His voice is low. Despite the question, his eyes betray him. He knows.

I look away. “Yes. I was desperate.”

And I didn’t know what to do. I thought if I could traumatize my body somehow and make myself inhospitable to the baby inside me…

A tight knot clogs my throat, and I swallow. I can’t continue. I’m ashamed and conflicted about what I did. Having the baby would’ve been the height of madness. I was fifteen, didn’t know who the father was, and couldn’t have taken care of it. And I would’ve disappointed, even crushed, my parents—especially my mom, who thought I could do no wrong. But there are times I feel deep sorrow for the little life that was…unwanted through no fault of its own.

His gaze soft, Elliot reaches over and squeezes my hand. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He knows me so well.

I keep my head lowered. “But it was. If I hadn’t drunk so much…”

“No.” His voice hardens. “It wasn’t. I won’t let you blame yourself. The only bad guy is the prick who took advantage of a young, drunken girl. Not you.”

“But what if I wanted to?” I ask in a whisper. “What if I did say yes…or even came on to the guy…but just don’t remember?” That night is one big blank. I’m never going to know what happened.

“When someone’s too drunk to recall what happened, she can’t give consent,” Elliot says flatly. “You were a victim. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I raise my head so I can look him in the eyes. “But I’m hurting my sister.”

“She saw you toss yourself down the stairs. She thinks you do it when you’re stretched thin and feel stressed out. She thought you might’ve gotten to that point again recently, especially after Tiffany’s little stunt at dinner.”

Suddenly I feel chilled despite the warm sunlight pouring over us. “I see.”

“Come here.” He pulls me onto his lap, my back pressed flush against his torso. His body heat envelopes me, heating me from the outside in. “I’m only telling you this so you can decide what you want to do about the situation, not to make you relive an ugly memory or blame yourself for any of it. You don’t have to talk to her if you don’t want to. I already told her I’d watch over you so she wouldn’t have to worry anymore.”

His sweet thoughtfulness brings tears to my eyes. Does he know how he’s pulling me deeper into him? He’s made it clear he doesn’t want anything permanent with me…

We have an expiration date, but I’m beginning to wish that time would stop.

“If I ever find out who did it…”

I don’t have to see his expression to know that there’s a promise of violent retribution etched onto his face. It’s in the cold, granite tone of his voice.

Shifting I put my cheek over his heart. It beats a little too fast. I close my eyes. “Let’s not talk about ugly things,” I say softly. “It’s a beautiful day, and I’m happy being here with you.” The words slip out, but I’m not saying them just to placate him. I mean it.

For the first time since my parents were gunned down, I’m truly content and happy. Elliot strokes my hair, placing a kiss on the crown of my head, and I let myself go boneless with a small smile.

* * *

Annabelle

By Friday, Nonny looks much more rested and it’s like nothing ever happened. The brand new fitted red baby-tee and denim shorts make her appear just like any other kid in her class. Her bounce is back, the high ponytail swinging with every step. She gives me a tight hug before leaving for school, her white and navy blue Chucks loud on the hardwood floor as she hurries out to catch the bus.

I still haven’t talked to her about her worries. I should, but I haven’t figured out the right approach.

“She needs to learn how to drive,” Elliot muses as he polishes off his eggs. He’s in a loose blue Superman shirt and cargo shorts, bare feet hooked on the bottom rung of his stool.

“I don’t know,” I say, running my hand down my sleeveless pale beige dress with a blue and purple butterfly print. When Elliot’s shopper Josephine Martinez sent it, I thought it would look bad on me, but it is actually quite cool and sophisticated.

“She’s old enough. I’ll arrange for it. She can’t ride the school bus all the time.”

I frown as my caffeinated brain does some quick math on how much it’s going to cost to buy her a car.

He gets up and presses a quick kiss on my mouth. “Stop worrying about money. It’s my prerogative to spoil my sister-in-law.” He dumps his plate and mug in the sink. I don’t think he knows how to open the dishwasher. “By the way, I arranged for a spa for you today.”

“Why?” I ask, coming up to him.

He extends a hand, and I give him my empty coffee cup. “To get you relaxed and ready for the dinner. I thought you’d like that.”

“Is this a subtle reminder to do my mani pedi?”

“Nope.” He sprinkles some water over the dishes and kisses me again. “It’s a blatant reminder to pamper yourself.”

I flush. “Well, thank you.”

“Whatever for?”

“For being good to me.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. “If you think this is being good, wait’ll you see our honeymoon.” He pauses. “You do have a passport…?”

“Yes.” I got one my sophomore year in college, with an eye toward a semester in Europe. Not that I ever got to go, since my dad’s Ponzi scheme fell apart.

“Perfect. We leave on Sunday.”

“Where are we going?”

“St. Cecilia. It’s in the Caribbean. Semi-private island. You’ll love it.”

“How can an island be ‘semi-private’? It is either private or it isn’t, right?”

“One family owns most of it, but not all. And recently they decided to build a new resort on a pristine strip of beach.”

“Wow. So we’re staying at this new resort?”

“It’s a couple of years old, but yes.”

“What’s it called?”

“Aylster Resort. It’s quite beautiful, and the island isn’t teeming with tourists like some of the more famous places.”

“It sounds lovely. But who’s going to watch Nonny?”

“Elizabeth volunteered to stay here for a week.”

“A week!” It seems like a huge imposition.

“Two would be better, but asking her to spend that much time here would border on cruelty.”

I frown. “This place seems comfortable enough.”

He chuckles. “It’s kind of a joke. Anyway, she’ll be fine.”

Relief floods me. I don’t want to unduly impose on Elizabeth. “In that case, I can’t wait.” I beam.

“Neither can I.” He suddenly laughs. “I can’t remember the last time I looked forward to a vacation.”

“Maybe you take too many,” I tease.

“Or maybe because most of them aren’t really any different from clubbing in L.A.”

I can imagine the kind of rowdy times he must’ve had. I’ve seen the photos. The women, the booze. When a man as brilliant, magnetic and rich as Elliot is out and about, he’s bound to attract women. And he certainly seemed to enjoy those wild scenes.

How many of them are out there in the city? How many would like him back? If I were in their shoes, I’d definitely want him back.

“You’re overthinking,” he says.

“Am not.”

“Yeah, you are.” He leans back. “I had a life before I met you, Belle. No way to change that, so don’t let it bother you.”

I exhale. He’s right. “Do you miss it?”

He shrugs. “Not really. I needed to distract myself so I wouldn’t get into trouble.”

Both of my eyebrows rise.

“But now I have you to distract me.” He pulls me close and nips my lower lip. A darkly sexual gleam enters his eyes.

My breath quickens. “You are incorrigible, you know that?”

“And proud of it.”

He kisses me deeply, lushly, his tongue running against mine with a leisurely sensuality. I open my mouth and pull him in closer, my hands clutching the hard muscles on his shoulders. He tastes sexy and intoxicating and sweetly addictive. I lick his lips and tongue, then scrape them with my teeth. His mouth is almost crushing against mine, deepening the kiss as though he could inhale me permanently into himself this way. My heart hammers. Carnal heat beats in my veins, and Elliot stokes it until there’s fire in my blood.

His cock presses against my belly. I rock against it and feel it grow harder and bigger. What wouldn’t I give to have him right now…

He pulls back. “God, I fucking hate this.”

“Hmm?” I ask, my brain still sluggish from the pleasure humming through me.

“Your period. I haven’t really had to worry about something like this before.”

He probably hasn’t been with anyone long enough to be bothered by it…except for that Annabelle woman. I push the thought aside. She’s just a bit of unpleasant history, nothing more. I cradle his flushed face. “Think about how much hotter it’s going to be in St. Cecilia,” I whisper without mentioning that my period’s more or less over. By the evening, it’ll be finished.

He groans. “Yeah, but that’s Sunday.”

I have to laugh. Men. “It’s only two more days.” I step away before he grabs me again. “Besides, I have to get ready for the spa appointment. When is it?”

“Ten thirty. The directions are in your email.”

* * *

Elliot

Since I want to fulfill that damn promise to Marlin, I call my half-brother Blake while my wife pampers herself. He is the oldest and the most likely person to have the connections to help.

“Yes?”

“Got a minute to chat?”

“I have six before my next meeting.”

“Do you know an attorney in Chicago who can take a potentially sensitive divorce case?”

“Chicago? There are plenty in L.A.”

“It’s for…” I pause, debating what I should call Annabelle Underhill. “Someone I know.” That’s true enough.

“Tell them to check the Yellow Pages.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“Speak for yourself, Mr. Sex Tape.” His tone is full of censure. Uptight ass. “There’s a firm that works for the Sterlings. They also do divorces. Call Ken Honishi, who’s the main point of contact for the family, and maybe he can help the ‘someone’.”

“Do you know if the firm wants Stanton Underhill’s business?”

Blake makes a choking noise. “You did not just say that name.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a bad idea to get involved with Dad’s ex-wives. Why the hell do you care anyway?”

“He’s been abusing her.”

A slight pause, then Blake’s back on track. “So? She’s a big girl. She can deal with it herself.”

“Don’t be cold. She needs help.”

“She might, but she doesn’t need it from you. Nothing good will come of this.”

“I’m only giving her the contact info.”

“Fine, do that. But make sure to keep out of her marital issues. Stanton Underhill is a ruthless asshole. He won’t take kindly to you meddling in his business, and you don’t need to make an enemy like him just to help that skank.”

“‘Skank’?” It isn’t like Blake to call people names for no reason.

“I know she was dating both you and Dad at the same time. I saw her with both of you.”

The old humiliation courses through me like lava. “You never said anything.”

“It was too late. She and Dad announced their engagement, and telling you at that point would’ve been rubbing salt in the wound. You never talked about it, so I didn’t say anything.”

No, he didn’t. Instead he sent me a case of very good scotch.

Blake’s voice grows cold. “She better stay out of your way or I’m going to personally destroy her. She fucked with you once. She won’t do it again.”

“Don’t worry,” I say, my voice just as chilly as his. “If there is a next time, I’ll ruin her myself.”