CHAPTER FIFTEEN BECKETT
I woke up the next morning with wonder and foreboding arguing for place in my heart. As I sat up, my head still thick with sleep, it seemed Foreboding won. I slumped back against the pillows, my heart sore and my head confused. Outside, the birds were still singing in the leafy trees beyond my curtained windows even though the clock said it was nine in the morning, a Sunday. I had a lot to be excited about, I reminded myself. But right now, the concern overrode all else.
What am I going to do?
I slipped out of my satiny sheets and dragged myself to the bathroom. As I brushed my teeth, I pondered the routes left to me.
Hayley had to know. I had tortured myself with her words for most of the previous evening, finding it hard to settle down to sleep. She was right.
I have to tell her. I have to risk that she will hate me for it. She must have this knowledge.
It could be dangerous for her not to know the reason for her being here. I hoped my ruse would work. But if it didn’t, well, I might just have put two people in the firing line. Estella and Hayley.
The people who had to believe Hayley and I were married also were the very same people who would not hesitate to use her as a weapon if I were to renege on any of my promises to them. They had already threatened me with Estella, which was why I had gone through this farce to start off with.
I had expected I would stage a marriage, let everyone believe it for a few weeks and then quietly separate from my aforementioned wife, trying to keep the press reports to a minimum. I would have kept my word to my detractors, and everything would be easy.
I had absolutely not figured into my clever plan the remote, but I realized now the real possibility that I would fall for said woman. I had realized this far too late.
I got dressed in Levi’s, a white-and-navy shirt and dark blazer. Then I sat down, groaning. There was every chance my plan would work, but there was equal chance it wouldn’t. I fired up my laptop, then sat back down on the bed.
A few seconds later, I was scrolling down the sites of all the major newspapers, admiring views of myself in various depictions of married joy.
“They might have done better than that one,” I sighed, glancing at myself on the front of The Chronicle. I hate my nose from the side, and they had plastered a great big profile picture of me on the front. It was a nice picture of Hayley, though. She was sweeping down the steps, her long train moving out to one side, a wide grin on her face. The sun was on her glossy hair and she looked pleased, excited and lovely. It could have really been a wedding snap.
I winced. I also looked as if it was. On the Times version, I was looking at her. My face was soft in a way I had no idea it went, with an expression of such melting tenderness on it that it stabbed my heart.
I am in love with her.
The picture was like a bell, clanging in my head, announcing the truth to me in an undeniable manner. I was in love. I had to do something.
I chuckled a little sadly. I had set a trap for the people who were hounding me. And now it felt like I’d fallen into it myself. Drawn there by the honey-sweetness of my actress bride.
Nothing else to it, I thought grimly. I had to tell her.
I went along the hallway to the breakfast room, found it empty and went downstairs. Mrs. Delange had laid out a fine breakfast in the dining room, and my stomach twisted painfully as the scent of fresh toast reached my nostrils. I drew back a seat and poured myself coffee. I glanced at the newspapers on the sideboard.
“Beckett?”
I looked up. Hayley was there. As softly as a gentle breath she had drifted up to the table. I hadn’t heard her come in. She looked down at me and our eyes met.
I breathed in as if I was drowning in molasses, then cleared my throat.
“Hayley. Good morning. You slept well?”
“Very well, thank you,” she said softly. “You?”
“Yes.” It wasn’t quite true, but I didn’t want to go into it. Not yet.
“Is it going to rain today, do you think?” she asked, inclining her head to the window where some clouds scudded across a pale blue sky. It looked like a beautiful day. I breathed in the scent of her floral, light perfume and sighed.
“Probably not,” I mused. “We should check the forecast, if you have plans for today?”
“No,” she said, laughing lightly. “Just wondering.”
She crunched into a bite of toast, then licked those soft pink lips. I focused on the wall a moment, feeling my body do unwanted things, and changed the subject.
“You saw us?” I asked, inclining my head at the stack of papers Mrs. Delange had obligingly left there for us. The Chronicle, I noticed, was top-most, with the offensive profile picture. I chuckled, thinking that she might have done it on purpose. Humbling me was something she seemed to accept as part of her job description.
Hayley’s eyebrows went up fractionally. “I saw some. Any good pictures?”
I laughed. She looked quite calm. Now that the media storm was over, at least for now, she seemed to be relaxing into things. I sighed. The last thing I wanted to do was disconcert her again. And the news I would have to tell her was worse than simply disconcerting.
“There are some. Don’t look at the Chronicle. No, no…”
I tried to make a grab for her as she reached out for it, coming around to stand by my chair. I took her hand, trying to stop her from taking the newspaper. I stood and made a grab for it as she danced away, laughing.
“No!” I wailed, still laughing. “It’s a horrible picture.”
I grabbed at the paper and she laughed, holding it behind her back.
“No,” she said, laughing at me. “I won’t give it up.”
I made a grab for it, reaching round behind her. We were both giggling away like two naughty kids, grappling with the newspaper, when her body pressed against mine.
I leaned down and she gasped against me as we kissed.
My arms held her tight, her body pressed to mine. I tightened my grip and pushed her against me, my body throbbing with need as I felt her smooth breasts against my chest. My tongue twined round hers and we devoured each other.
“More coffee, Mr. Sand? Oh…”
I jumped as the familiar voice of Mrs. Delange rang out. I moved away from Hayley as if I had been struck by lightning. The two of us looked round guiltily.
Mrs Delange was in the doorway, a pot of coffee on a tray before her, her cheeks red and a twinkle in her eye that suggested to me that her interruption was not all as innocent as it seemed. I cleared my throat, cheeks burning. She smiled.
“I…I’m terribly sorry,” she said, though from the look on her face she wasn’t vaguely sorry but relishing our discomfort. “I brought more coffee. Here, I’ll leave it on the table…” she trailed off, putting down the jug of coffee on the table and walking lightly from the room.
I looked at Hayley. She looked back at me with a dazed expression. We stood there, facing each other, the newspaper trailing from her fingers like a bouquet of flowers, until we were sure she’d gone.
Then, like the naughty kids we’d acted like a few minutes previous, we burst out laughing.
“What the…”
“Did you…”
We both started talking at once. I smiled. “After you,” I said. She blushed.
“Did you see the look on her face!” Hayley said, cheeks fiery red with delicious shame. Seeing her blush, I grinned.
“I did. I was going to say, what the heck was that all about? She knew we were in here. I swear she meant to catch us.”
Hayley laughed. “She probably did. Why shouldn’t we be kissing though?” she asked, then looked at her hands.
I felt my heart wrench. The memory that this was all an act had caught her just as it caught me. I bit my lip.
“Hayley,” I said softly.
“No,” she said, flapping a hand at me. She drew out her chair and sat down. “I need to think.”
I sighed. If I had wanted to make the right time for telling her the truth, I’d probably just gone and messed it right back up again. Though, now that the topic had been raised, perhaps I could use that to my best advantage.
“Hayley,” I said. She closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Beckett. I’m just having trouble processing all this.”
“I understand,” I sighed. “Remember what you said yesterday?”
“What did I say yesterday?”
Her eyes were still closed. Her voice came from far off, as if she, though close, was lost in thought, unreachable by anyone until she chose to come back. I waited.
“I mean, when you asked me yesterday what all this was about,” I began uncertainly. “I was wondering. Would it be easier for you if you knew the truth?”
“It’s always easier,” Hayley said directly. She sat up, eyes open. “It’s better to know, Beckett,” she continued, voice quiet. “Please, I want you to tell me.”
I sighed. “Could you come up to my office? Only, it’s out of the way and I don’t need anyone overhearing us.”
“Okay,” she said. She had a little frown between her brows and I wondered if she was not, after all, regretting that she had asked to know the truth. But she was right. It would make it easier. And ultimately, it could save her life. If it ever came to that, that was. I shuddered.
I don’t want to think about it ever coming to that.
The depth of my response surprised me. Hayley had been in my life for two weeks. But already she meant so much to me. I sighed and led the way up the stairs to my office, at the leftmost corner of the house.
“Right,” I said once she was inside. I shut the door behind her. I motioned her to the seat at my desk, but she stayed where she was, standing and with her back to the door. I shrugged.
“Beckett, please.”
“Okay,” I said. “The truth.”
“Please,” she said again, and those caramel-brown eyes pleaded in a way that reached deep inside me. I sighed.
Faced with her, I found it almost impossible to contemplate what I had to tell. I turned away. Looked out of the window. Took a big breath and, pretending she was not there and I was talking to myself, began.
“It started when I was a teenager. Carry this, fetch that. Pass this note. I made good money doing it. I was excited. It meant I could get things for myself. Things my hardworking, store-managing father couldn’t buy for me. So I carried on.”
I sighed. Behind me, Hayley was standing silent, barely breathing. I glanced at her. Her eyes were huge as she watched me, pools of silence and rapt with attention. I drew in a breath and continued shakily.
“I was seventeen when it finally sank in what I was doing. By then it was too late. I was the group runner, with too many connections. Too much insider knowledge. I had one of two choices. Either join them, or leave town. I couldn’t leave town. I was in my final year of high school. I joined them.” I paused. “I knew it was wrong. But by then I was in too far. And the more I tried to get out, the more I tried to tell them I didn’t want a part of it any more, the harder they pushed me into staying. And the money helped. I decided to stay. Just until I finished high school. Then college began,” I sighed.
“Beckett,” Hayley said gently. She reached out. I recoiled. I didn’t want her to pity me. I didn’t want her to feel bad for me. I wanted her to understand who I was. Then the spell would be broken. She would hate me. My own trap would lose its marvelous bait and I, at least, could walk free of it. I was not its intended victim: they were. I continued to tell my story of them and how I had come to be involved.
“They threatened. They asked me. They bribed me. And yes, I wanted that. I was at college, working hard. My dad couldn’t pay for everything, so I had to earn money for half of it. I worked, but working for them was what kept me financially comfortable. In my final year, I bought my first flat.”
“Beckett…”
“Let me finish. Please. I have to.”
She stepped back, closer to the door. I drew in a shuddering breath. I was coming to the hardest bit to tell.
“I started to build my business. From that flat, I accumulated rent. Used the rent money to buy the next one, and the next. By the end of two years, I owned a small block. It was great. I went into partnership with a friend; who had the great idea of converting the place into holiday apartments and, later, into a hotel. The first Sand Hotel was born. From there, we invested more. Built up a board of trustees. Bought the next complex. And the next. Built the first official Sand Hotel from scratch. We built up the chain, piece by piece.” I realized my voice had risen and lowered it. “That’s when they came for me.”
“They?” she asked, voice a whisper.
“The old guys. The ones I’d run for when I was a kid. They came to find me, demand their share. I’d used them, they said. Taken their hard earnings and put them into my own business. They had a share of those profits, they said. Or they’d tell everyone who I really was. What to do?”
I paused. I realized I was shaking. I had never told this whole story before. Cameron knew it, but no-one else. I sat down.
“Beckett, you don’t have to tell me any of this,” Hayley said softly. “Telling me is hurting you. I can see that.” She sighed. “I am sorry I made you do it.”
“You didn’t make me do it,” I said gently. “I wanted to. It’s good for me,” I laughed sadly. “Besides, you have to know.”
“Okay.”
I picked up the tale. “I was at a bar when they came to find me. I agreed to pay them a sum every month. Not too much, not too little. Enough to keep them quiet. We went back to their place and I signed. I started to pay them to keep them quiet. Just a bit each month. No one would miss it, I told myself.”
“Oh?”
“She found out.”
“She?”
“My wife. My ex-wife. Lacey. She was talking to our accountant, wanting to see the books. She wanted to start her own business, you see—her own perfume range or something. Anyhow,” I sighed. “She saw the missing amount. She wasn’t stupid, my wife. Far from it. She put the information together, came to her own realization.”
“She thought…”
“She thought I was paying for another woman,” I said. The pain of that still hurt. She had trusted me so little, believed me so little. No matter how much I had protested, she hadn’t taken my word. And I couldn’t really blame her. I couldn’t tell her where the money was going. How could I face her with the truth: that I had started off carrying drugs for a street gang? She’d despise me.
“What did you do?”
I sighed. “I had to let her believe that,” I said. “In the end, what could I do? I couldn’t tell her the truth. She’d have hated me. What could I do?”
“She left you?”
I nodded. Somehow I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. They stuck in my throat, as if I choked on acid. I cleared my throat.
“That was when we divorced. Estella was eight years old at the time. She had no idea of what was happening. I wanted to shelter her from it. Lacey wanted to take her and I asked to have holidays. I was granted that, at least,” I said with a soft laugh. It was not a happy sound. I cleared my throat.
“Beckett…”
I waved her aside. “It was my fault. I deserved that. I should have told Lacey right in the beginning, or not at all. I knew she’d despise me for who I am,” I said bitterly.
“What happened next?”
“Well, they went away. Or seemed to, anyway.” I gave a helpless laugh. “I thought I’d fixed it. Then they came back for more.” I ground my teeth. “They said they didn’t trust me anymore. My wife had found out. I had to do something, before someone else found out. They accused me of trying to get them stitched up. Would you believe it! So I came up with a plan.”
“What plan?” Hayley asked dully, though I think she guessed.
“I would marry again,” I said tightly. “I would let it be known that the mysterious woman I’d had in the background for years was finally coming into the limelight. I had asked her to marry me. That way, I had created a plausible explanation for the missing cash, and they couldn’t accuse me if anyone found out. I would use Lacey’s assumption as a cover.”
“You put me in your story, as your afterthought, your wife’s worst enemy?”
Her voice was stiff. I felt my body tense then.
“Now Hayley,” I said briskly. “Don’t you…”
“Don’t speak to me like that!” she snapped. “I’m not your wife. But nor am I your convenient excuse, the woman who broke up your happy life. I cannot believe what you let me walk into! You have made a fool of me, just to cover up your dark secrets! I can’t believe it!”
As I watched, she turned and walked out of the room.
“Hayley,” I begged. I grabbed her wrist. She turned around, her eyes flashing. I let go.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” she said, very quietly. “Leave me alone. I can’t believe you did this to me.”
I watched her turn and walk out of the room. She walked slowly, back straight, body poised. I waited until I heard her shoes on the tiles, heading to the stair way.
Then I sat down in my desk-chair and rested my head in my hands.
“Hayley,” I said aloud. “I’m sorry.”
I blinked, fighting back tears. It was all suddenly too much for me. Lacey, the way she had reacted, the fact that I had never actually felt close enough to her to tell her the truth. The tension of the past few days, the pain that I felt, realizing that I was falling for Hayley. And now, just as I opened out to her, she betrayed me too.
Not that I blamed her. Seeing it from her side, I could understand her viewpoint.
She had no idea of the role I had crafted for her. And she walked into it as herself. She won’t ever be able to shake this story now.
She would be known as the woman who drove a wedge between Beckett Sand and Lacey Lanning, his much-loved, beautiful wife. There were many who would think badly of her.
I set her up for that and now she will hate me and I don’t blame her at all.
After all, I had been paying a drug cartel every month to hide my dark past from the world. I knew what it meant to have people think about you in a certain light, and how much people would invest to maintain that illusion.
By saving my own skin with the press, I had ruined her.
I sat in my office at the top of my house and felt a tear run down my cheek.
I had wanted to protect an illusion, and sacrificed someone I had just learned to love. At that moment I couldn’t have felt more awful if I had tried. By trying to save myself, I had carved a knife into my own heart.