“Unless you feed me some of your immortal blood.” I smile brightly.
Rochelle looks at my mother. “She’s so your daughter, Vee.”
Vanessa only sighs, as if raising me (something my nanny did more so than her) was such a burden. “You should be taking this seriously, Blakely.”
I press my lips together, gaze pinning her with severity. “And what is this, Mother?”
She sets her champagne flute down on the marble accent table and removes her glasses. Her eyes are a mirror reflection of my own, a sight that stills my blood. “I told you your little hobby…job…whatever you want to call it—” she waves her hand dismissively “—would someday get you in trouble. Now a man is dead, and like a nitwit, you think you can just walk into a police station and hand yourself over.” She exhales an exasperated breath and palms her cheeks, as if the strain from her speech stretched her chemically-peeled skin. “Honestly, Blakely. What are you thinking?”
The pavers beneath my boots fall away, the shift in gravity throwing me off balance. My gaze swings to Rochelle with an accusatory stare.
She shakes her head. “Don’t look at me. I’m far too self-involved to keep tabs on you, sweetie.”
I nod and lick my lips, the lingering taste of my night spent with Alex hitting me with bitter resentment.
Shoot me up with Ketamine and abduct me. Fine. Lock me in a basement in the middle of the wilderness and do mind-altering experiments on me. Fine. Make love to me and make me feel like I’m losing my sanity. Fine.
But sic Vanessa on me like a spineless snake to do your dirty work…
Not fine.
I glance through the glass railing and into the penthouse, trying to track his movements. Having Alex in my family’s home is disconcerting. I don’t spot him, and I wonder if he’s perched on a balcony with a creepy pair of binoculars and listening device. Or maybe he’s spying on me with a drone.
Which are suspicions that should be ridiculous, unless you’ve become the object of obsession for Dr. Alex Chambers. He knew exactly where I was this morning. He knew exactly what I was about to do. Which means…
I pull my phone out from my back pocket and drop it to the pavers, then smash the heel of my boot into the screen.
My mother glances at the destroyed device before she looks at me with a disapproving frown. “I see your temper hasn’t improved.”
I stare down at the shattered phone. He “made love” to me in his bed. He made me believe it was possible for me to love him. I hurt this morning when I struggled with the choice to turn myself over.
And at some point during the night, he installed spyware on my phone. Everything he professed last night was bullshit. There can never be any trust between us. His only concern was preventing me from entering the police station, so he involved my mother.
An act of evil in and of itself.
I cross my arms and glance between the two conspiring women on the terrace. I could deny everything. I could claim Ericson’s death was an accident or self-defense. But for some reason, the relief I feel at having someone else know my secret strips a layer of guilt away, even if those persons are my mother and the most narcissistic client on my roster.
“How did you find out?” I ask Vanessa.
My mother purses her lips. “I got a call from your lawyer,” she explains. “Josh Vanson. He called me and explained your circumstance, and said it was time for an intervention before you made a very bad decision. Thank God I got to you in time.”
Anger sears my nerves. Alex plundered through my bag. He found Vanson’s business card. Not only did he lie to my mother about who he is to manipulate her, but he’s also made her an accomplice. She’s aiding and abetting a murderer.
I can’t let him hurt my family.
“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you he was my lover,” I say, shaking my head. “He’s not a lawyer. He’s a delusional stalker. You need to get him out of your house.”
My mother’s heavily mascara’d eyelashes brighten wide. “Lover? Are you dating? How serious?”
Of course, that’s what she hears. I give Rochelle a pleading look. “Help me.”
Rochelle is busy tapping her phone screen. “Are you sure? He looks like a lawyer to me.” She flips the screen around to show me the website of one Josh Vanson, JD. A picture of Alex in a business suit and looking very lawyer-y is positioned at the top of the site.
Christ. I rub my forehead, feeling as if I’ve been sucked into an alternate universe. Alex coded a redirect link for the real Vanson’s website. But of course he did.
My mother waves her hand. “But what he told me about what happened with this revenge job of yours—”
“You believed him,” I supply for her, to make the confession easier.
She pulls her linen wrap around her shoulders. “I won’t lie, Blakely.” A dead silence follows, underscoring the blank.
I nod slowly. “Right. I’m leaving now.”
Rochelle bounds up and snags my arm, pulling me to a stop under the pergola. “You once told me no killing was rule number one.” She releases my arm to remove her glasses, her weathered eyes finding mine. “I don’t know what happened between you and that dead man, but I know the girl you are. Whatever took place, that piece of shit probably had it coming. And neither me nor your mother are going to allow you to throw your life away over some…man.”
She spits the word like it tastes bad in her mouth. I suppose it does, considering her seething hatred for her ex-husband.
I glance at my mother, at the woman who I have never been able to form a connection with. Not all her fault, as I was born without the capability. I’m sure at one point, she may have even tried.
She stands to join us. I see a rare tremble in her lips not caused by an injection. “We’ll make it go away,” she says, as she touches my arm. “I may not be able to fathom all the details, but I know my daughter. Whatever has happened, we’ll make it go away.”
An even rarer feeling presses against my chest, the weight causing my eyes to burn and an ache to clog my throat. The sudden onset of this new emotion induces a moment of panic, and I have to look away to conceal the moisture in my eyes.
“How can you make it go away?” I say to her, blinking a few times before I can meet her gaze again. “You can’t buy innocence.”
Her painted eyebrows wing up. “Blakely, you’re still very naïve when it comes to money. You can buy innocence, and you can even buy guilt.”
I shake my head, confused. “I don’t understand…” I let my thoughts trail off as the steely resolve in my mother’s eyes issue a threat.
“I’m sure whoever is truly at fault for this heinous crime will be found soon.” She links her arm through Rochelle’s for support. “Then this whole mess will be behind us.”
And like that, Vanessa Vaughn is at the pinnacle of the food chain once again.
Rochelle raises her champagne glass in mock toast. “To the unlucky bastard. May he roast in hell.”
My head spins as a startling revelation becomes clear. Alex’s plan to frame Brewster. By bringing my mother in on it, he’s forcing my hand. He’s made her a culprit, which means I have no choice but to go along with his scheme.