Fortune (32 page)

F
riday night arrived. As had become Skye and Terri's custom on Will's night to have Raye, they went to dinner together. Tonight they chose Scoozi, a popular restaurant not too far from Terri's place. While they waited nearly two hours in the crowded bar for a table, they laughed and chatted with the other singles waiting for tables, drinking too much and fending off the advances of several overambitious men.

Skye was happy to see Terri smiling. It was good to hear her laugh. She had changed her phone number and the calls had stopped. One week had passed, then two. Terri had begun to relax; they both had breathed a little easier, believing the danger past.

When they were finally seated at their table, half-drunk, they stuffed themselves on bread dipped in seasoned olive oil and little Italian dumplings filled with cheese and spinach and drenched in a calories-not-to-be-calculated pink sauce.

Giggling like teenagers, they cabbed back to Terri's place, where Skye had left her car. They alighted from the cab, landing on the sidewalk in front of Terri's rehabbed apartment building.

“You want some coffee?” Terri asked, still giggling, digging in her purse for her keys.

“I can't drive like this, that's for sure.” Skye brought her hands to her flushed cheeks. “I can't remember when I've had such a good time.”

“Me, neither. Com'on up.”

They entered the building and started up the stairs, neither in a great rush. Skye poked her friend in the ribs. “I couldn't believe the way you were flirting with our waiter. You were shameless!”

“Antonio,” Terri murmured, stopping and looking back at Skye. “He was gorgeous.”

“How old do you think he was?”

“Old enough.”

Skye drew her eyebrows together, then at her friend's expression, burst out laughing. “Oh, old enough for
that.
”

“He slipped me his phone number when we were leaving.”

“He didn't!”

“He did.” Terri pulled a cocktail napkin out of her jacket pocket and waved it at Skye. “Eat your heart out.”

“That boy was at
least
ten years younger than you.”

“So?” Terri sniffed. “I'm a free woman. At thirty-two, in my sexual prime. Why not have a little fun?” She angled an amused glance at Skye. “What's the matter? Jealous he didn't give you his number?”

“Of course not. I have Griffen.”

Terri started climbing the stairs again. “Yeah, right. Griffen.”

Skye caught her friend's arm, stopping her once more. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It's just that he's not…he's not my type.”

“Why not?”

“Forget it.”

“No. I really want to know. I won't get mad.”

“I've heard that before. A friend says they won't get mad, then they stomp off and never speak to you again.”

“But I mean it. I promise not to get mad.”

Terri studied her for a moment, then sighed in resignation. “Okay. He's too intense for my taste. He's possessive and controlling, and I'm just not into that.”

“Controlling?” Skye repeated. “You think he's controlling?”

“And too possessive.” Terri threw up her hands, swaying slightly as she did. “You wanted my opinion. I gave it to you.”

“I know, but you'd be a little intense, too, if you'd had his family life. I mean, his mom died when he was only two. Then both his half sisters got sick and died. He's had three different mothers and has recently lost his father.”

“I'm not saying he's a bad guy, just that he's not for me. Okay? And that's not what I heard. About his sisters.”

“What do you mean?” Skye frowned. “What did you hear?”

“That one was twenty months old when she died. She drowned in her bath.”

Skye widened her eyes. “She drowned in…her bath?”

“Uh-huh. The mother left her alone to take a call and when she came back it was too late. Anyway, the mom went nuts after her daughter's death and ended up shooting herself.”

Skye felt light-headed and grabbed the banister for support. “What about the other sister?”

“She disappeared. Kidnapped by her own mother. Neither of them were ever seen again.” Terri drew her eyebrows together in thought. “She was actually his first half sister. I think her name was Grace.”

“Grace,” Skye murmured, testing the sound on her tongue. When Griffen had told her he'd lost both his sisters, she'd thought they had died at birth or of some sort of natural causes. This was even more awful, more tragic. “What a terrible story. Poor Griffen. Poor Adam and Dorothy.”

Terri patted her shoulder. “Before, what I said about Griffen…maybe
controlling
was a poor choice of words. Maybe it's just that he's so in control. You know what I mean?”

Skye thought about her friend's description and nodded. “But I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing.”

“Good, because you're the one who's dating him. Not me.” Terri climbed another stair, then stopped and looked back at Skye. “Are you sure you know what you're doing, dating the boss and all? I mean, I would hate it if you got burned. And he does have a reputation as a kind of ladies' man.”

“It's not like that between us, Terri. It's not a fling. I don't know why, but he really loves me.”

Terri gazed at her a moment, and Skye thought the other woman wanted to say something else about Griffen. Instead, she laughed. “Maybe I'm just jealous. I'd rather have somebody special than the phone number of some young hunk I'd be too afraid to actually get naked in front of, anyway.” She shuddered, then laughed. “Scary thought.”

“Silly. You're gorgeous.”

“But I'm not twenty anymore, either.”

“Who wants to be?” They reached Terri's floor. “Twenty wasn't so great.”

“Spoken like a twenty-six-year-old.”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Same thing. Look, somebody left me a package.” The box, wrapped in brown paper and addressed to Terri, waited on her welcome mat. “From one of my many young stud admirers, no doubt.”

“No doubt.” Skye laughed. “You going to open it?”

“Actually, it's probably from my mom. Something of Raye's we forgot at her house last weekend. We're always doing that.” Terri dug her keys out of her purse, picked up the package, unlocked and opened the door. Terri tossed the package onto her entryway table. “Come on, I don't know about you, but I've got to have some coffee.”

They went to the kitchen, and while Terri started the coffee, Skye leaned against the counter, watching her friend. She didn't know when she'd had as much fun as she'd had tonight. She had never been like this with another woman, silly and serious and…connected. All those years, she hadn't realized what it was like to have a girlfriend. She hadn't known what she was missing.

“Did you have a lot of girlfriends when you were a kid?” she asked. “When you were a teenager and stuff?”

“Sure.” Terri took a couple of mugs from her cabinet. “What girl didn't?”

“Me, for one. We moved around a lot. And I was pretty obnoxious.”

Terri widened her eyes as if shocked. “Not
you?
”

“Was that a shot?”

“Nah, you're the greatest. You didn't have any girlfriends at all?”

“Not really. No, actually.” Skye looked away, suddenly one hundred percent sober. “I learned fast how much it hurts to say goodbye.”

Terri covered her hand, then broke into an off-key rendition of “Love Hurts.”

Skye snatched her hand away, laughing. “You, my friend, are an asshole.”

“Thank you very much.” Terri bowed. “But I also make a very good, very strong cup of coffee. Which you need, because you drank too much wine.”

“Me?” Skye laughed as her friend filled the two mugs. “What about you?”

“I have self-control. I understand the ‘M' word, and I live by it. Moderation, my dear. Moderation.”

“Please, I think I'm going to be sick.” Skye took a mug and they started down the central hall that led back to the entryway and living room beyond. “What about your package?” Skye said, motioning toward it. “You going to open it? It might be from one of those young studs.”

“Yeah, right.” Terri laughed, snatched up the box and shook it. Whatever was inside thumped against the sides of the box. “It doesn't sound like crotchless panties or strawberry-flavored love jelly.”

“You're gross.”

“I know. Gross is an art form for me.” Laughing, Terri ripped aside the brown paper, then the bright-colored foil beneath. That done, she lifted away the box top. And made a sound of horror.

“Terri, what's—”

The box slipped from her friend's fingers, hitting the side of the ottoman and tipping over. Its contents tumbled out, red and raw.

A rat, Skye realized, staring at the creature, her stomach heaving. It had been sliced open, and its entrails spilled out of its belly onto Terri's light-colored Dhurri rug.

Skye's stomach heaved again. She choked the sickness back, bringing a hand to her mouth, unable to drag her gaze from the gruesome sight.

“My God,” Terri muttered, backing away. “My God…”

Skye looked at her friend and saw how close to hysteria she was. She shut her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose, counting to ten, then twenty, struggling for control. One of them had to think clearly, and judging by her friend's expression, it wasn't going to be Terri.

“It was him,” Terri said, beginning to shake. “The obscene caller. He knows where I live.”

“You don't know that for sure, Terri. Before we do anything else, we have to call the police.”

“It was him.” Terri's voice rose. “What if Raye had been here? What if I had let her open the box? What if—”

Skye crossed to the other woman and grabbed her upper arms. “But you didn't, Terri. Raye's with Will. She's safe. And getting hysterical's not going to help this situation. I'm going to call the police now. Where's your phone?”

Terri pointed. A portable, it lay on the floor, only a foot from the rat.

“I'll get it.”

Shaking, Skye stepped around the mess, trying not to look at it, but unable not to. As she reached for the phone, she saw that the rat had not been the only thing inside the box. Whoever had left Terri the package had also left her a note, a folded piece of paper inside a blood-smeared, plastic Ziploc bag.

Skye looked at Terri. The woman looked terrified. Gagging, Skye picked up the bag by a corner, got it open and took out the paper.

The note was brief. Scrawled across the paper, in what looked like blood, was one word.

Bitch.

S
kye handed her menu to the waiter. “Nothing for me, thanks.” The man looked disapprovingly at her, then turned to Griffen.

“We're not quite ready to order,” Griffen said. “Two cabernets for now. The Vichon.”

The man nodded, then walked away, and Griffen reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Not much of a dinner. Are you okay?”

“I'm not hungry, that's all.”

“Are you sure?” He curved his fingers closer around hers, and she met his eyes. “I'm worried about you.”

“You don't need to be, I just—” She took a deep breath. “I just can't stop thinking about that rat.” She shuddered. “It was so awful, Griffen. So frightening.”

“You've got to let it go, sweetheart. It's over.”

“But it's not, don't you see?” She lowered her eyes to their joined hands, then looked back up at him. “Not for Terri. And not for me, either. Because I can't forget.”

“Goddammit! What were you doing there? You should have been home. Or out with me. If you had been—”

“Terri would have been alone,” she snapped, angered by his attitude. “Is that what you'd want?”

“Of course not.” He made a sound of frustration. “I just hate that you were there. That you were frightened.”

Her anger faded, and she searched his gaze. “What if that sicko does it again? What if he does something worse? Or something to little Raye? I couldn't bear that.”

“Raye's her daughter?”

Skye nodded. “She's such a little sweetheart. If Raye were threatened, Terri would move away, I know she would.”

For a moment, Griffen didn't respond. Then he trailed his thumb along the side of her hand. “I love you,” he murmured. “It hurts to see you upset like this.”

She looked down at their joined hands. And thought of Chance. That had been happening a lot lately, especially when she and Griffen were together.

Griffen was everything she had wished for, everything she had ever dreamed of in a man. What was wrong with her?

“Tell me how I can help her,” Griffen said. “I'd do anything to make you happy, Skye. Anything.”

Tears stung her eyes, and she curled her fingers around his. “I wish you could make this sick bastard stop. I wish you could make him just go away.”

“I can't do that, Skye. Pick something else.”

She forced a laugh. “You're so good to me.”

He smiled. “You sound surprised.”

“I do, don't I?” She returned his smile. “I guess kindness takes some getting used to.”

“Go ahead and get used to it. I plan to keep it up. For a lifetime.”

Lately, Griffen had been making a lot of references to forever, to them spending their lives together. Although he hadn't outright asked her to marry him, she felt certain he was going to.

Being a part of the Monarch family, a part of Dorothy and Adam, of being connected the way she had always wanted to be, would be wonderful. To know she was with a man who would love her forever would also be wonderful.

Then why did the idea of Griffen proposing scare her witless?

The waiter returned with their wine and a basket of rolls. After they assured him they still weren't ready to order, he disappeared again. Skye turned back to Griffen. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, love. Anything.”

“I heard that one of your half sisters disappeared. I heard that her mother kidnapped her and no one ever saw them again. Is that true?”

He stiffened. “Who told you that?”

His anger surprised her. Surely, if true, it was both common knowledge and ancient history. “Who?” she repeated. “No one in…particular. I just, I heard it around…work.”

“I see.” He drew his hand away and sat back in his chair, considering her through narrowed eyes. “Why are you asking me about it?”

“Because I wondered if it was true. You said you had lost both your sisters, but I assumed—”

“They'd died of natural causes?”

“Yes.”

He looked away, then back. “It's true. Grace's mother was unstable. One day she ran away with her. Gone.” He snapped his fingers. “Poof, just like that and all our hearts were broken. We found out years later that they were dead. Killed in a car accident. The authorities found us through some of the mother's papers.”

“Oh, Griffen. I'm so sorry.”

“I loved my sister very much. I loved her mother, too. I was only eleven, and I thought…she was like a mother to me. When she ran away it…it hurt like hell.”

Skye held out her hand, thinking of her own mother, her own devastation. He grasped it. “I understand,” she whispered. “I know how much that…hurts. All grown-up and I still fantasize that my mother and I are reunited.”

“So do I,” he murmured, meeting her eyes. “You see why we're so perfect for each other?”

She leaned across the table and kissed him, shuddering slightly at the contact. It was an odd reaction to his touch, one that she had been having with increasing frequency. She didn't understand it. His touch wasn't unpleasant. He was gentle, handsome and obviously experienced with women.

But it wasn't a problem with him, she knew. It was her. She had difficulty with intimacy; she had been told that before. She had difficulty sharing herself. That, too, she had been told. Because of her past, because of her fears.

Now, here was a man who wanted to give her everything, share everything. And a man who wanted her to give him everything in return.

She didn't need a shrink to figure that one out. It was pretty obvious.

She wasn't going to allow herself to mess this up, she vowed. Not this time. Period.

“I want you so much,” he murmured, tangling his fingers in her hair. “Some nights I can't sleep for thinking of you…of us.”

Skye went hot, then icy, clammy cold. She squirmed, uncomfortable, cursing herself. Get over it, Skye, she told herself. Get over it.

He rubbed some strands of her hair between his fingers, smiling. “I know you're not ready, love. You don't have to look so panicked. I'll wait. Don't you know, I want it to be perfect for both of us. Just one more kiss, and I'll act respectably.”

Skye closed her eyes. Griffen's lips brushed against hers; she curved her hands into fists. A moment later he drew away, and she opened her eyes.

And saw Chance. At first she thought her mind had conjured him. She hadn't even caught a glimpse of him since that day in Griffen's office, though she had thought of him constantly.

He stood a couple of feet from their table, looking as if he would rather be anywhere but there. No doubt he was remembering the way she had all but thrown herself at him.

“Chance,” she whispered, her cheeks hot.

Griffen swung around. “Chance, buddy. What're you doing here?”

Chance smiled and closed the distance between them, though the curving of his mouth looked forced. “Griffen,” he said stiffly. “Skye. Sorry for the interruption. Ashley told me I could find you here. She said you wanted to see these releases before they went out.”

“Sure did.” He motioned toward the table. “Pull up a chair. Have a drink.”

Chance looked at Skye, then quickly away. “I don't want to intrude.”

“Don't be a jerk.” Griffen smiled at Skye. “Sit.”

Chance pulled up a chair and sat down. He opened his briefcase, slid out several sheets and handed them to Griffen. “See what you think. If you're happy, I'll have Lisa get them out first thing.”

The waiter arrived and took Chance's order. Skye realized she had been holding her breath since he sat down, and released it, feeling like a ninny. She looked at her hands. Griffen loved her, and she had to force herself to sit still for his touch; Chance didn't give a flip about her, and all she could do was think about his touch.

She was impossibly screwed up.
Skye tucked her hair behind her ear and lifted her gaze. To find Chance staring at her chest.

Heat climbed her cheeks. “Excuse me?”

He blinked and shook his head. “Sorry. I was looking at your pin. Is it one of your designs?”

Pleased, she brought her hand to the brooch. “Yes, thanks. It's the first piece in my City Lights series. I'm wear-testing it.”

“It's really beautiful. Could I see it?”

“Sure.” She unfastened the pin and handed it over. “It's really just the metal production model.”

“Meaning?”

“That I'm still fine-tuning. Still making changes, adjustments. This piece was cast using a cold mold, which is temporary. Once I have this just the way I want it, the vulcanized rubber mold will be made. It's permanent, exact and will be used many hundreds of times without breaking down.”

The waiter brought Chance's beer. He acknowledged it with a small nod, his attention focused on the piece of jewelry. He turned it over in his hands, his expression admiring. “I remember how excited you were when Sarah finally let you cast something. This was made the same way?”

“Basically. Except at Monarch's we don't do the actual casting in-house, a foundry does it.”

“It's beautiful and unusual. I've never seen anything quite like it.” He handed the brooch back. “You said you're…wear-testing it?”

“Mmm.” She refastened the pin. “Wear-testing is an important part of the design process. You need to make sure it feels good on. That it lies right, that it's not too heavy, that it doesn't catch or pull fabric or somehow scratch the wearer. If something doesn't feel good, women won't want to wear it no matter how beautiful it is.”

“She's good, isn't she?”

Skye and Chance both looked up to find Griffen watching them. Skye realized she had gotten so caught up in talking about her work, she had forgotten he was sitting there.

“Yeah, she is. She's incredible.” His voice deepened and he cleared his throat. “How are those releases? Anything you want to discuss?”

“I made a few minor adjustments.” Griffen handed them back. “Double-check those dates with Ashley before you send them out.”

“Already done.” Chance slipped the papers back into his case, took a swallow of his beer and stood. “Thanks for the brew. Have a good evening.”

“Stay, if you like,” Skye said. “We haven't ordered dinner yet.”

For a moment both men were dead silent. In that second, Skye realized what had happened, what she had done.

“Yes,” Griffen said, looking anything but pleased. “Stay.”

Chance shook his head. “Thank you, but no. I've already intruded on your evening enough. Good night.”

Without a backward glance, he walked away.