And with Celia came the emotions, bleak and drenching like a torrential downpour. She’d deserved what he’d done to her, hadn’t she? Why did that make me so enraged?
I’d known about her past. I’d overlooked her sins even if I hadn’t forgiven them. I’d destroyed the woman she’d once been and had paved the way for her rebirth. Her history hadn’t mattered.
It still didn’t.
So why was I so utterly shattered?
Nothing had changed, really. Hudson owned as many shares of Werner now as he had yesterday. He still owned them for the same reason. Celia had still had a partner in her crimes. The anger I’d felt about her secrecy regarding that partner had already been dealt with. It shouldn’t matter that the man she’d protected had a name that I already knew or that it had been a man who shared such an extensive history with her. It shouldn’t matter that the man had been the first that she’d loved.
Except that it did matter.
It mattered very much.
Because, as I’d said so blatantly to her before I’d left the room, she’d chosen to honor her bond with that arsehole above the bond she had with me. Because not only had she once had feelings for Hudson, but it was also quite evident that she still felt something for him, be it romantic in nature or something more complex, and that feeling had obviously meant more to her than complete transparency in our marriage.
Because no matter what I did to Hudson, even if I ruined him completely, it wouldn’t make Celia any more mine. Which was what I wanted more than anything, if I was honest—to own her heart completely. To be her one and only master, the man she not only loved above all others but at all.
That felt outrageously juvenile to admit.
I drowned the emotion with a long swallow from my newly filled glass. Then, I pushed it away and signed the tab before standing. Too quickly, it seemed, since the floor teetered as I did.
“You need help to your suite, Mr. Fasbender?”
The bartender was trying to be helpful, but it took all I had not to snap his head off for the inquiry. “I’m fine,” I said tightly.
Besides, I wasn’t going to my suite. Too much alcohol had left my head—and my heart—more muddled than when I’d first come down. When the room finally stopped spinning, I headed instead to the front desk.
“Do you have any rooms available?” I asked.
“We do. How long will you be needing it, sir?”
I gave him the most honest answer I could. “I don’t know.”
I woke to my mobile ringing, the volume seeming much louder than usual as the normally gentle chirp sounded like a gunshot next to my head. With bleary eyes, I looked at the screen, half expecting to see Celia’s name before I silenced it. She’d texted the evening before, several times, and each one I’d ignored. The only reason I even looked was to be sure it wasn’t Jeremy asking questions about her journals since I’d texted him last night to have them shipped overnight.
It wasn’t his name on the ID, though, or Celia’s. I glanced at the time before I answered. Why the hell was Leroy Jones calling me at eight in the blasted morning?
“It’s early,” I said instead of hello. It was even earlier in Albuquerque where Leroy worked for the FBI.
“It’s not early in London,” he said, decidedly more chipper than I was. “From the tone of your voice I’m guessing you’ve forgotten what day it is?”
It was Monday. Beyond that I was having a hard time even remembering where I was. A few more blinks, and my head cleared although the pounding throb at my temple remained.
I sat upright, regretting it as soon as I did. “Ron’s sentence has been announced?”
“Yep. Ready for this? Twenty-six years.”
“Twenty-six years,” I repeated, dumbfounded.
“Twenty-six years. It’s more than we’d hoped for.”
“What does that mean as far as the US is concerned?” There’d been talk of extradition to face charges in the States, but that decision had been put on hold until the trial in the UK was over.
“It’s more than we could get on the evidence we have here,” Leroy said. “Statute of limitations has long passed for Celia, and the couple of leads we have with recent victims don’t hold a lot of weight.”
“So it’s a closed case.”
Leroy misread my subtext. “He’s going to be locked up for the rest of his life,” he said. “Does it matter if it’s in your jails or in ours?”
“No, it’s good,” I said, meaning it. “Celia will be happy about this. I’d be happier if he’d gotten life, but I’m not displeased with the outcome.”
“Think you can put this behind you now?”
“Not sure I’m good at putting anything behind me.” It was a little more honest than I’d meant to be. “As for Celia, I’m not sure this is something you ever get over, whether justice is served or not.”
“No, I’m sure that’s true. I’m not going to hear some mysterious account of the douchewad hanging himself in prison, am I, or getting taken out with a shiv?”
I chuckled, then winced as the sound echoed too loudly through my skull. “If you do, I won’t be behind it. Man deserves to spend the rest of his years suffering. Death would be too merciful.”
“Tell you what, Fasbender. You ever want a side job taking down motherfuckers like Werner on the down low—aka, outside government jurisdiction—let’s just say I can make that happen.”
I managed to smile. “Good to know I have the right kind of friends. I’ll even honestly consider it before telling you no. Thank you for the news.”
I hung up just as my mobile beeped with a low battery warning. Tossing it down, I lay back down and covered my face with my arm. I hadn’t bothered to close the curtains before falling asleep—I hadn’t even made it under the covers—and the sunlight streaming in felt like shards of glass in my eyes. It had been quite a many years since I’d had a hangover, and now I remembered why I was very strict about limiting my drinking. I needed a bottle of water and two Advil, but both required getting out of bed and one possibly required leaving my hotel room.
I sat for a few minutes contemplating going back to sleep, but despite my misery, my head was awake now and that meant the thoughts were back, a tangled web of what to do and how to feel. I’d never understood Celia’s desire to escape her emotions so distinctly as I did right then.
And now there wasn’t just The Problem with Pierce on my mind, but the news about Ron. I should be there for Celia when she found out. We’d done our celebrating when he was found guilty and the sentencing was a relief, but every announcement about the man stirred her up in some way or another, as was to be expected.
News of Ron stirred me up as well. He was one of the sources of my anger. He was such a vile, despicable excuse for a human being. He was Satan himself, as far as I was concerned. What he’d done to Celia was unfathomable and unforgivable. If I’d been around when it was happening, if I’d known, I would have murdered him on the spot.
And her father!
Warren had been around, had known and he’d turned a blind eye. He’d chosen the easy path instead of the right one. He’d ignored the signs and her confession and chose to stand by his brother...for what? For the sake of his company? For the sake of convenience? Was that where Celia learned to protect her tormentors? From the man who’d chosen Ron over her?