He might have been in one bar brawl too many, but intuition told me I could trust him.
“Do you mind if I look at the images?” he asked.
I handed over the folder. “Here.”
He studied the six shots.
“They’re vague. There’s none with your face except for this one.” He pointed to a photo of me in the foyer of the Cherry Orchard.
“The scar on my back and the ring,” I said.
“The scar could have been photoshopped. The ring too.”
I hadn’t thought of that. “They photoshopped her in my fucking bed.” I headed to the bottle of whisky, poured two glasses and then passed one to Barnes.
“If she testifies, you’re in trouble. Judges take the word of the supposed victim in this type of case.”
A tight breath left my chest. “Which they’re threatening to do.”
“What does he want?” he asked.
Good fucking question. “My empire.”
He whistled. “That’s a lot of money.”
I peered down at the images that had turned my day upside down. It had already started uncomfortably enough. Penelope, after pleading with me to sleep in her bed, reported how I’d squeezed the life out of her during one of my nightmares. The fear in her eyes made me want to run, only I didn’t have damp caves in the middle of the blustery moors to hide in.
“I’ve seen worse. These could be contested.” He drained his glass in one well-practiced gulp. “This one, however”—he pointed to the shot of me at the Cherry Orchard— “demonstrates that you’re into buying young girls by the mere fact of your presence.”
“But he’s incriminating himself, isn’t he? That suggests he’s dealing in underage girls.” I opened my hands.
“He’s a silent partner,” he reminded me. “I’ve got an ex-Eastern European mafia contact. He might know something about that scene. His son goes to school with my daughter of all things.” He sniffed. “It’s kind of strange how one meets people these days. And with the lack of proper jobs, desperation leads people to take jobs they’d prefer not to, if you get my meaning.”
I nodded slowly. “Discretion only. I don’t want my name mentioned.”
“No. Of course.” He rose and then paused. “How did you hear about the Cherry Orchard in the first place? Given that it’s an invite-only, dark-alleyway joint.”
“I’m about to call him right now,” I said, feeling the heat at the back of my neck. I smelled a rat.
“I’ll have to grab the name of your contact at some point.” He lifted his hand and left.
My phone buzzed. I peered down at an image of Penelope in that beautiful red gown that I’d snapped the night of the ball. I picked up. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Blake, I have to race to a lecture, but I thought you should know. I met Lilly for breakfast, and during a conversation about the ball, she told me that she’d met Dylan Fox through James. Apparently, they seemed rather friendly.”
I squeezed the life out of my phone. “I have to go. Tonight?”
“Sure. Are things okay?”
“We’ll talk later.” I ended the call. Abrupt as it was, I had no control over my actions. The word betrayal hit my brain with such a heavy thud that my head ached.
I pressed on James’s number. It went to voicemail. I kept it brief. “We need to talk.”
36
* * *
PENELOPE
BLAKE PACED ABOUT RUBBING his head, leaving it a sexy mess of hair. His mouth glistened from his brushing tongue, which for one twisted moment had my body reacting with greedy need. I was amazed that a man as dark and haunted as Blake could send my hormones into overdrive. And my desire only intensified as he paced about in my new living room, pausing every now and then to stare out the window, lost in thought.
“He’s not returning your calls?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“I can call Lilly if you like.”
Blake had only given me fragments—something about James having betrayed him and that Dylan Fox wished to destroy him. Just enough to worry me.
He looked at me. “No. Don’t involve her.”
“Something happened earlier,” I said in a thin voice. “When I visited my mother, Jimmy, one of the local guys…”
“One of the dealers that loiters about, you mean?”
I bristled at his biting tone. “He’s not a bad person. Desperation does that to people, you know?”
He attempted a weak smile. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that today.” Blake took my hand. “I interrupted. You were saying?”
“Jimmy told me that the Russian had come looking for Lilly. Brent confronted him and it broke out into a punch-up. The Russian came off second best.”
“Who’s Brent?”
“That’s Lilly’s brother. He’s very protective, especially since she’s been staying with James. Maybe now for a good reason.”
“I hope you’re looking for a new place for your mother. I’ve got an open checkbook, Penelope. I don’t want you going back there.”
“You’ve given me so much, and I’m really grateful. At times, I still find it difficult to process. But you can’t tell me what to do, and I’m about to fail my degree.” Tears blinded me. For the first time ever, I’d received a fail mark on one of my assignments due to missing extended deadlines.
“Oh?” His brow crinkled. “But you’re a brilliant artist, Penelope. You’re unique. You stand out from the crowd.”
My face was saturated as I sniffled and blew my nose in the most unladylike fashion. I’d reverted to Penny from the estate, and not that cool art student with the rich boyfriend.
“I’ve scored high on my practical, but my written work sucks. It always has. But I managed to bumble through it with the help of Sheldon and, believe it or not, my mother.”
“Your mother?” Blake’s frown was understandable. I’d also been shocked at my mother’s innate intelligence when she put her mind to helping me.
“She’s really good at English. Even junked out, she would help me express my ideas on paper.”
This retelling of one of our rare but finer moments together made me bawl like a baby.
Blake took me into his arms, which was the first time we’d held each other since he’d arrived with a dark shadow in tow.
My eyes seemed to have a burst a pipe as tears poured out. It had been an edgy day, starting in the morning, when Blake crushed me while we slept, and then ending with me learning that my degree hung on a thread. The thought of repeating another semester froze my veins.
“Take me to her,” said Blake.
I frowned. “What?”
“I want to meet your mother.”
“You do?” My tears dried, and my heart banged against my ribcage. Am I ready for that?
“Please. It will help me.”
“How?” I froze on the spot.
“I just want to meet her.”
“Look, Blake, don’t worry about it. I’ll spend the next few days focusing, and I’ll finish that essay.”