Deceived (Burned Book 2) Page 20

  "Mr. Guerrero, you stated that on July 21st of last year the box of files in question was destroyed."

  "That is correct."

  "Did you order this specific box of files destroyed?"

  "Yes."

  "What was the label on the box?" I tensed, knowing that every answer would be a lie.

  "652-C dated 2/7/2001."

  "Did you mean to destroy the files that were from 2001?"

  "Yes. My secretary was charged with destroying any file that was within the legal time period to be destroyed."

  "What were the actual dates …" A familiar face in the galley caught my eye and I faltered, losing my train of thought. My heart took off at a gallop, the sudden rush of adrenaline made my knees shake.

  Alejandro's eyes sharpened, narrowing with annoyance. I feigned a cough, struggling to cover my brief misstep. "What were the actual dates on the files within the boxes?"

  "2011." He watched me with piercing hawk-like eyes, dissecting my every motion, waiting for me to falter again.

  I ached to wipe my dampened palms, but the move would be too telling. My hands trembled.

  "The box was mislabeled?"

  "Yes."

  "Disposed of by accident?"

  "Yes." Lies had blossomed with each answer, a series of shimmery brown slashes, darker than his natural tone. I knew he'd had the files destroyed on purpose before the investigation began.

  "Thank you. No further questions, Your Honor."

  My wobbly legs gave out as I collapsed in my seat. Thankfully no one noticed and the proceedings continued. I stared at Alejandro on the stand. His tailored suit, one that cost more than most of the jurors made in a month, was sculpted to fit each curve of his body to maximum effect. He sat poised and confident, radiating wealth and power. His tan skin was softened by the highest quality products, hair expertly styled. A mischievous smile played on his lips, softening his chiseled features. It only added to his allure, disarming the jury. But every single thing about him was false, crafted with a purpose. Cold and empty.

  I tilted my head, glancing at Zak in the back of the galley out of the corner of my eye. His brown hair was a little shaggy, unkempt. He was overdue for a trim. Instead of looking disheveled, it made him approachable and warm. I wanted to run my fingers through the soft strands. His suit was fitted and draped nicely on his frame, but it was obviously off the rack. Even from this distance his blue eyes radiated warmth and compassion. There was no need for him to pretend anything. His power lay in his honesty, his ability to feel.

  The gavel struck, the sound final and harsh. It ripped through me and I tensed. My head swung to Alejandro. Nausea chased on the heels of the jerky movement. His eyes burned with anger. His face was a chiseled mask of calm.

  I hid my trembling hands under the table, gripping and twisting them.

  Alejandro stalked out of the room without a word, his animosity following him like a storm.

  I gathered my papers, shoving them into my briefcase. My legs ached, itched to flee before I was forced to speak to anyone, especially Zak. I had to get out of there.

  He walked forward, each step tore into my paper-thin resistance.

  Oh God. My heart galloped, urging me to close the distance. I wanted his arms around me. I wanted to go home.

  My eyes met his, the yearning in them mirrored my own.

  I pushed myself from the table, each footfall thundering in my heart. I blew past Martha and barely missed a collision.

  "Arabella—"

  I didn't hear what she said. Her mouth moved but I didn't focus on the words. I fled from the room in a blur of streaming scarlet. Gulping huge lungfuls of air in the stifling hallway. I shoved my way through the crowd and escaped to the relative quiet of the parking garage.

  I threw myself into my Jag, the silence cocooning me in its warm embrace. I fought with my lungs, with the panic. My fingers traced the leather steering wheel, back and forth. Back and forth. The movement soothing against my frayed nerves.

  I needed to say goodbye. It was my only option—the safest option. But not today. I wanted to put off the inevitable destruction of my heart. I'd do it the next time I saw him. I'd be better prepared with time and distance to come up with a convincing argument.

  I slammed my fists into the leather seats. Pain seared through my body. Tears overflowed their confinement, falling down in a torrent.

  I didn't want to let him go. But I had to.

  Only I'd never get the chance.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I was an island; so lonely I ached with it.

  The party—fully sanctioned by the House—was in full-force. Fey flitted around serving drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Couples gyrated on the dance floor. It was crumbling into complete chaos in record time.

  And still, I played the devoted hostess: managing the staff, smiling and nodding at polite—or not-so-polite—conversation, and making sure there were no accidental casualties.

  I sighed heavily, weary of the party, the company. Everything.

  The crowded room could aid in my escape. It would be easy to slip out of the room unnoticed. I toyed with the idea in my head, with seeing Zak. Just to say goodbye, I lied. It would be just a goodbye. My fingers ached to feel his skin, my lips wanted his.

  "Miss Anthony?" A deep baritone jerked me from my dangerous daydream.

  "Yes, Petre?"

  The bulky enforcer rubbed his meaty hand over his bald head and down his neck. "There's a problem in the women's restroom."

  "And you can't handle it?" I lowered my tone, almost snapping at the vampire.

  He slid his eyes from mine and shifted his feet. Lowering his voice to a whisper he leaned closer. "It's a girl problem."

  "A girl problem? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

  "There's a cat fight." His frown drew his brows low, the disparagement in his voice clear.

  "Seriously?" I rolled my eyes, the contempt heavy in my voice. "Why is it when two girls fight it's always referred to as a cat fight?"

  "No, really. It's a cat fight." His smile brightened his face, a twinkle shining in his eyes. The man was an enigma, a juxtaposition of conflicting manners. He was huge, tall and muscular. His muscles bunched and slid with the slightest movement. The bronze of his mocha skin was unusual in a vampire as most of their color was blanched during the transformation from human to vampire. Gentle and kind, the enforcer abhorred violence but did his job without hesitation or question.

  "Two cat shifters are having it out in the women's restroom," he continued, struggling not to laugh at the absurdity. "It's a rather awkward situation. Either you or Alejandro need to talk them down. I mean, I can take care of it if you want, but brute strength might not be the most effective solution."

  "And Alejandro asked you to get me?" Why wasn't he handling the situation himself? His word was law.

  "No. I couldn't find Alejandro. I found you."

  "Never a dull moment." My sigh was heavy and deep. How was I going to break up a fight between two shifters? They had me in strength and speed.

  "Depends how long you've been doing this ma'am."

  I lifted an eyebrow waiting for him to elaborate as we continued down the hall to the women's restroom.

  "Two hundred years is a long time to be an enforcer."

  "Two hundred years is a long time to do anything. But I see what you're saying."

  Half an hour later, after too much drama and screeching, I had them packed up and on their way home—in separate taxis.

  One lingering question blared brightly in my mind. Where was Alejandro, and why wasn't he at his own freaking party? My feet hurt, I had a bitch of a headache, and I wanted to go to bed.

  I scanned the crowd. My eyes froze when I spotted his familiar frame standing next to Sarah. Too close to Sarah. Alejandro was whispering in her ear. He dragged his nail down her throat and her eyes closed with wanting.

  My heart raced, the rush of blood making me light-headed.

  God, an
yone but her.

  Anger grew in my chest, sharpening my steps as I found myself stalking to them with narrowed eyes.

  "Alejandro." My voice was steady, not betraying my burning desire to scream at both of them. "It's been a long day and I'm exhausted. I'm going to head upstairs."

  I waited for a response. The wall clock ticked once, twice. The sound grated on my already frayed nerves. I thought for sure he'd leave if I did. He didn't like to leave his trinket unobserved and all my usual stalkers were otherwise occupied. Including Sarah.

  "Fine. I'll see you tomorrow." His cool empty eyes met mine.

  The widening of my eyes was my only betrayal, unnoticed by anyone other than Alejandro. My heart slammed into my ribcage, the resulting ache stealing my breath.

  Despite my feelings for Zak, my desire to leave the House, and yes my underhanded plotting, it hurt. Alejandro's blatant disregard was as painful as a physical blow. More painful than I'd thought possible mixed with the hatred that was always simmering in the background.

  How was it possible to love and hate someone at the same time? I was pulled in two different directions at once. My feelings were raw, an exposed bundle of nerves, sensitive to the slightest stimulus.

  "Good night then." I leaned close, brushing my lips against his cheek in a perfunctory kiss. One that was more for the observers than ourselves.

  I spun gracefully and glided for the door, forcing my steps to remain slow and steady even though I wanted to run as fast as my legs could get me the hell out of there. I refused to give him the satisfaction.

  I knew why he wasn't returning to the condo tonight. He was going home with her, with Sarah. There was no question he'd feed on her. And more.

  Sarah. Who wanted to be my replacement. Who craved everything I had.

  I wanted to scream.

  If Kyra managed to get me out of here that bitch would get it all.

  ***

  I was going crazy, that was the only explanation for what I was about to do. Two days after he'd taken the stand and Alejandro still kept his distance. I hadn't heard anything from Kyra or Spencer, and the combined stress must have put me over the edge into madness.

  I had to know. I was becoming obsessed, fixated on the slightest interaction between Alejandro and Sarah. I replayed each interaction, each nuance in my mind until I wanted to scream.

  I hated him, there wasn't a doubt in my mind. But why did it hurt so much? Why couldn't I just leave it be?

  His office was quiet. The only sounds the creak of his chair as he shifted weight and the light soothing sounds of paper shuffling. I caught the lingering whiff of a cigar. The spicy aroma was overwhelming in its potency. The thin veins of bluish smoke hung in the air; a dark tan Cuban rested in the ashtray beside him. He only smoked when he was troubled, when he had to make a difficult decision.

  I swallowed, my mouth dry and my heart pounding, but forged ahead with my stupid mission. My footfalls gave away my presence.

  "Yes?" He didn't give me the courtesy to look up, continuing to read the document in front of him.

  "Are you sleeping with her?" It hurt to ask, but I couldn't stop the words if I tried.

  Alejandro glanced from his desk, brows low. A scowl twisted his lips. "Who?"

  "Sarah." I struggled to keep my voice even, refusing to add fuel to the fire.

  "Ah." He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him, brown eyes flashing with irritation. He looked every bit the astute businessman, custom Gucci suit, shoes polished and shiny. Platinum cufflinks shone in the light. Cufflinks I had given him. His brown hair was closely trimmed, every hair perfectly in place. My fingers itched to muss the moussed style.

  "Arabella, you know how I despise euphemisms. Ask what you really mean, my dear. I am not sleeping with her." A cruel glint flashed in the topaz depths of his eyes. "I sleep with you. I fuck her." He turned from me, returning to the paperwork I'd interrupted.

  My heart plummeted, the sensation caused my stomach to roll. How was I supposed to respond to that? "Of course." I pressed my lips together to keep any other words from escaping. I hated the uncertainty I felt around him.

  Well, you wanted to know.

  I already knew the truth. For some disturbed reason I wanted to hear him say it. Was I a glutton for punishment? Did I like to torture myself?

  Waiting—for what I wasn't sure—I stood beside his desk. My mind spun in a thousand different directions.

  "You don't like it?" He scoffed, the sneer twisting his lips. "You don't have the right to say anything. You lost that right the moment you opened your legs for that shrink."

  Heat infused my cheeks. "But you've been sleeping—excuse me—fucking women since we've been together. I just looked the other way."

  "Exactly. Before—" his glance was pointed, heavy, "you had some right. I may have even considered it, although sex is just that, sex. It's a biological imperative bred into us. Women are always confusing sex with emotion and feelings. But you never said anything. You never even asked me. You just buried your head in the sand like an ostrich." He shook his head. "Weak, that's what you are. And finally—finally you have enough backbone to confront me about it but it's too late. You've lost your chance."

  His words were cruel, but he was right. My heart slammed against my chest. He was right. I'd never said anything. I knew, but I was too afraid to confront him, to lose my status, my benefits. Now that I no longer cared about those things, I'd already crossed one line too many.

  Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You starting playing from my purse. I fumbled for the clasp, digging through my purse for the offending phone. The song played louder than ever.

  Before I could reach it, my phone was plucked from my fingers.

  "What is this?" He turned the display so he could read the name. Patrick Verona flashed on the screen. Oh, God.

  "It's him, isn't it?"

  My teeth dug into my bottom lip.

  "You get rid of him or I will. Do you hear me?" Spittle flew from his mouth, his chest heaved as he sucked in each breath. His hands shook.

  "I pay for your condo, your car, your phone, everything. And this is what I get in return." He shoved the still ringing phone in my face. The motion knocked me off balance. I crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

  He flung my cell against the hard floor. It shattered into hundreds of shards, the tiny pieces of plastic flew everywhere. A few sharp pieces embedded in my leg. Trails of blood dripped from each stinging wound.

  "Get. Out," he grunted between clenched teeth.

  I didn't need to be told twice. I stood, catching my balance underneath me, and lurched from his office on wobbly legs. I flew toward the elevator.

  It did absolutely no good to press the numbers on the console more than once, but I was unable to keep the impatience from my fingers. I wanted to escape to the safety of my condo.

  Safety? I knew better than that. If he wanted inside there was nothing, absolutely nothing, I could do to stop him. Regardless, when the door was firm behind me I basked in that illusion. I sank against the door, sobbing, my pathetic reflection staring at me with contempt.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  "We are going shopping," Tanya announced as she threw herself into the seat across from mine in our usual booth at The Harmony. The idea had some merit, retail therapy was known to be worthwhile, and it's not like I suffered a shortage of funds. I was deciding what exactly this retail therapy should involve when she broke into my thoughts and decided.

  "Shoes."

  Shoes were never a bad idea.

  "I'm in." I tossed my napkin down and waved to Patrick, who settled our account.

  We took a taxi to Hyde Park Village and weaved in and out of stores for hours. Returning to the condo heavily laden with shopping bags. I had three new pairs of shoes to show for my efforts: two Louboutins, one a hot pink trimmed black sandal, the other a knee-high leather boot, and a Jimmy Choo gold peekaboo pump. Not limiting myself to shoes, I also purchased a
new Gucci handbag, and a sexy black dress with a plummeting back and halter neck.

  Thankful for the distraction and knowing that Tanya's budget wasn't quite as limitless as mine, I bought her a beautiful pair of Betsy Johnson earrings. The brightly colored mismatched pair, a piano on one ear, angel wings on the other, fit her style and personality.

  While it was only a short-term fix, shopping had brightened my mood considerably. Spending a little bit of time fawning over external baubles brought me out of myself long enough to feel human again.

  The last few days had been the worst since Daniel died. Between Alejandro and Sarah flaunting their new relationship, and my rioting feelings at ending my relationship with Zak, I was a mess. It was nice to shove all that drama and angst to the side and just hang out with a friend.

  Neatly organizing each new purchase in my huge walk-in closet, I marveled at its size. The childhood bedroom I shared with my three sisters could fit inside the large room. A mixture of victory and despair battled for supremacy. The overflowing closet made me feel vindicated in my hard work, my devotion to my goals that had gotten me here. But creeping close on its heels was an overwhelming feeling of shallowness. It didn't mean anything. The clothes, jewels, and even shoes were empty prizes.

  I buried my face in my fur-trimmed coat. It smelled of wool and earth, a comforting scent. I wrapped the arms around me. Surrounding myself in the fabric, I imagined Zak's arms. It was a poor imitation.

  I pulled away, feeling bereft and ridiculous.

  Keys rattled as they hit and slid against my kitchen counter.

  Alejandro. My heart was still bruised from our fight.

  The chasm in my heart could never be healed. The one person that mattered to me, that could put together the broken pieces, was in danger every time I went near him.

  I pushed my questions away, refusing to play the guessing game. I pretended to focus on straightening my closet.

  "Arabella?" he called to me from the bedroom doorway, unable to see me in the closet.