What Lies Beneath (12 page)

Rolling back against the wall, she wiped her mouth and was relieved that the engagement ring wasn’t on her hand. It belonged to a woman from an entirely different world. That woman had been a successful advertising executive. That woman had clothes and credit card limits that Adrienne could only dream of. She was also a horrible person who cheated on her fiancé and made a mess of her own life.

Her one moment of relief was knowing she’d never actually done those terrible things. Nigel was a complete stranger. Along with everyone else, including Will.

Oh, God, Will.

Adrienne buried her face in her hands. This was such a mess. “How am I going to tell him?” she said aloud.

“How are you going to tell me
what?
”

Adrienne’s head snapped up and found Will standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Things had apparently gone well at the paper. Not so much back here.

She immediately noticed a change in him. There was no softness in his eyes. His cold gaze was focused on her like a laser. His hands were thrust angrily in his pockets, his entire body tense from the chiseled line of his jaw to the wide, solid stance in the doorway.

“I…” she began, but couldn’t find the words. What would she say?
My memory has suddenly come back, and I realized I’m not your fiancée. Sorry I slept with you.
Something like that?

“Why don’t you do us both a favor and just come clean,
Adrienne?
”

Her eyes widened, her mouth falling open at once. He knew. Somehow he’d managed to piece it all together before she did. “I just remembered—”

“No way. Don’t you even try to feed me some half-ass cover story about how you’ve just suddenly regained your memory because I’ve caught you.”

“Caught me?” Adrienne’s heart sank in her chest. She’d been worried enough that he’d be disappointed to find out she wasn’t Cynthia but had hoped he’d understand the mistake. That perhaps their feelings for one another would overcome the reality of who she really was. But her hopes had been quickly dashed by the heated tone of his accusations. Apparently he was angry. And he somehow believed she’d faked everything for nefarious reasons.

“What a sweet stroke of luck it must’ve been for you. A failed business, no friends, no family, no money. Get on a plane and wake up a millionaire heiress with a new face making you the center of attention.”

Adrienne climbed to her feet, tears she didn’t want gathering in her eyes. “No,” she insisted. “It isn’t like that. I had no idea—”

“And to think I believed you’d uncovered a hidden talent, like some prodigy of the fashion world. Was it your plan all along to show your work to Darlene? Were you just using Cynthia’s connections to further your career?”

“Why would I do that?” she asked. “It wouldn’t be my career. It would be Cynthia’s. This whole life was Cynthia’s, and I knew I never fit into it. But everyone kept telling me this was who I was and that eventually I would remember.”

“It’s hard to remember a life you never lived.”

The angry edge of Will’s voice sent the tears spilling down her cheeks. She couldn’t fight them anymore. “How did you find out?”

“You never should’ve seduced me, Adrienne. Dr. Takashi didn’t work on anything but your face. It was a big risk to take off all your clothes and hope you looked the same from head to toe.”

Adrienne flinched as her ego took the hit. Of course she never would’ve done that if she’d known the truth. Cynthia was perfect and thin and elegant. She was none of those things, and naked, it would be even more obvious. But she had to ask. “What was it about me that convinced you I wasn’t her?”

“Cynthia had a rose tattoo. You don’t.”

Tattoo? That explained the odd look on his face as she walked to the bathroom last night. The way he’d stared intently at her rear end like the secrets of the universe were etched there. He was looking for a tattoo she didn’t have. Their prior encounter had been dark, but that night the lights had been on while they made love and when she’d gotten out of bed. He’d known in that moment and she’d been stupid enough to turn around and tell him she loved him not twenty minutes later.

“Of course I don’t. I’m afraid of needles. I would never have the nerve to get a tattoo.”

“But you have the nerve to take advantage of a family that should be grieving the loss of their daughter?”

How could he think she would do that? Hadn’t he learned anything about her in the past few weeks? “I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know. Not until just now. In the closet I found a shirt—”

“The closet!” Will sneered, refusing to let her finish a complete thought. He obviously didn’t care to hear anything she had to say in her defense. “I should’ve known the very first day you came home. Didn’t know your own mother, but you knew when you’d landed the couture clothing jackpot. I bet you couldn’t wait to see if you and Cynthia wore the same size.”

“No,” she insisted. “It was all real. Everything I said or did. I gave my heart to you, Will. I never would’ve done that if this was all a lie. I would never deliberately hurt you like
she
did.”

A mottled red spread across Will’s face, his nostrils flaring to indicate she’d said the wrong thing. “Don’t you dare turn this on Cynthia. She may not have been perfect, but she never pretended to be anything she wasn’t.”

“Except in love with you.” Adrienne couldn’t help but shoot the sharp barb back at him in anger. “She probably never cared half as much for you as I do. She was in love with a broke artist from the Bronx. She was only using you as a cover so all her society friends wouldn’t know she’d stoop that low.”

Will shook his head slowly, the anger seeming to finish running its course, leaving him disillusioned and sad. “I never thought the woman I’d come to know the past few weeks would stoop this low either.”

Adrienne tried to think of the right words for the moment. The thing to convince him she meant everything she said. There was only one thing left. “I love you, Will.”

“Get out.”

Panic seized Adrienne, her chest tightening so suddenly she almost couldn’t breathe. That wasn’t the reaction she was hoping for.
Get out?
He couldn’t really mean it. He wasn’t cruel enough to throw her out with nothing. She didn’t have a dime to her name. No cell phone, not even a driver’s license. Everything she owned was Cynthia’s. Adrienne had lost all her possessions in the crash. Even if she somehow managed to have her aunt wire her money, could she buy a bus ticket without ID? How was she going to get home?

“Will, please,” she begged. She had to persuade him to see reason.

“I said get out!” he yelled, his voice booming in the acoustic bathroom.

In that moment, Adrienne knew the battle was over. There was no way she could convince him of the truth. Nodding, she started for the exit to the bathroom, waiting for him to step aside so she could get through the doorway.

“You think you know what happened. You think I’m a horrible person. I can’t change that. But I meant what I said. I did fall in love with you.”

He stepped aside to let her by but turned his face away, unwilling to look at her for the sincerity or truth of her words. He obviously didn’t want to hear anything she had to say. Will had made his decision, delivered his verdict and executed the sentence. As far as he was concerned, Adrienne was as dead as everyone thought she was.

Defeated, Adrienne walked down the hallway, through the living room and out of his life.

Eleven

A
drienne stood outside the storefront that had once been her boutique. Her funky little shop had a banner across the window announcing the grand opening of a new Baby GAP
.
She could see the overpriced clothes for baby yuppies hanging where her beautiful, artistic creations once were. She wanted to cry. To scream and throw a rock through the window.

It was bad enough when she’d lost her shop. Not everyone had the talent to make it, and she was mature enough to understand that. But now she knew she did have the talent. With the right connections, Cynthia’s network could’ve launched her career. Even if it had been as Cynthia Dempsey, it would’ve been fulfilling her dreams. And once again, she’d lost her chance.

Just like she’d lost her chance with Will. And that was even worse than her latest discovery.

She’d give up designing clothes to have the chance to make things right with him. He’d probably never forgive her or trust her again, but she wished he’d give her the opportunity to try. She’d never get it, though. Just like when he discovered Cynthia was cheating, he cut Adrienne from his life with one clean swipe. He was through. And even if he had second thoughts, they would come too late. Adrienne would be back in Milwaukee before long, working retail or finding some part-time job as a seamstress altering wedding dresses.

Somehow things were better when she was dead.

She clutched her arms to her chest, the cool breeze raising goose bumps across her bare flesh. She’d dressed for a lazy Sunday at home—a pair of comfy jeans, a cotton T-shirt and sneakers. She should’ve grabbed a coat before she left the apartment, but she didn’t want Will to accuse her of stealing Cynthia’s clothes. As it was, she was surprised he didn’t force her out of the apartment naked.

It didn’t really matter, though. No amount of cold air could distract her from the pain of the gaping hole in her chest. She thought she’d lost everything when the plane crashed, but she was wrong. What she’d lost since then was much worse. The man she loved hated her. The people she thought of as her family would, too, once they knew the truth. Adrienne didn’t know what to do.

She’d wandered aimlessly through the streets with no real destination in mind and found herself in her old stomping grounds in SoHo. She didn’t really know where else she could go. Hours had gone by and the sun was about to set, making her situation more serious by the minute. Her best option would be to see if she could crash at Gwen’s place until she could get the money to go home, but she didn’t have her phone number on her. Adrienne’s only other choices were to show up unannounced at one of her old friends’ places and give them a huge shock, since they thought she was dead, or find a homeless shelter.

From the penthouse to a semiprivate cot in just a few hours’ time. It was such a disaster. And to think she’d woken up believing the world was hers for the taking. She was in love, her career was taking off…there was only the nagging worry about her persistent amnesia and what it would mean for her.

Well, standing on the sidewalk outside her store wasn’t helping anything. She headed west toward the hospital where she could find Gwen and prayed she was on shift tonight. Adrienne was about to turn the corner toward Greenwich Village when she felt an iron hand grip her shoulder.

Just great.

Homeless, penniless, hopeless and now someone was going to mug her. And take what? All she had left was her pride, and that wouldn’t go for much at the local pawn shop. Spinning on her heel, ready to fend off her would-be mugger, she found herself face-to-face with Nigel.

“What are you doing?” she screeched. “You scared the hell out of me.” Adrienne jerked from his grasp and stumbled backward.

Nigel looked like hell. He hadn’t changed his clothes or shaved since she saw him at the party, and she was willing to believe he hadn’t slept either. His oversized tuxedo was wrinkled, his eyes bloodshot and wild with emotion and sleep deprivation. He looked like a man on the edge.

“How did you find me here? Did you follow me?”

Nigel nodded. “I’ve been watching your building and saw you leave. I followed you to try and talk some sense into you.”

“You’ve been following me around Manhattan for hours?” A deep sense of unease was pooling in her already unsteady stomach. The last words he’d spoken to her were a threat, and then he’d started stalking her. She took another slow step back. If he had a weapon, she didn’t want to be within swiping range.

“I did what I had to do. I need to talk with you.”

There was a growing edge of hysteria in his voice that Adrienne didn’t like. “There’s nothing to talk about, because I’m not Cynthia Dempsey.”

“Oh, is that your new story?” Nigel sneered at her, his upper lip curling with irritation. “And who are you now, Miss High and Mighty?”

Why did no one believe her when she tried to tell the truth? “There was a mixup at the hospital. My name is Adrienne. They thought I was Cynthia, but I’ve regained my memory and know now that I’m not.”

Nigel frowned at her. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

How could she prove it to him? Maybe the same way she’d unknowingly convinced Will. “I have no rose tattoo, Nigel. I know you would’ve seen it at some point. I’m not going to drop my pants in the street, but you can believe me when I say it. Will threw me out of the apartment because the tattoo was missing. That’s why I’m wandering around Manhattan without a coat, a purse or a dime to my name.”

Nigel struggled to swallow a hard lump in his throat. “If you’re Adrienne, then where the hell is Cynthia?”

Adrienne squeezed her eyes shut. Every time she thought her life couldn’t get worse, fate slapped her down and proved her wrong. Did she really have to connect those dots for him? She couldn’t have him stalking her around town when she had no place safe to go, so she supposed she had to. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but Cynthia was killed in the plane crash. They confused us and thought I was dead instead of her.”

If Adrienne had thought he was angry before, she was wrong. Nigel’s jaw locked, his face flushing crimson with anger. “Stop lying to me!” He lunged toward her, and his hand flew before she could react. His fist made contact with her chin, sending her flying backward.

The last thing she remembered was the cold sensation of the concrete sidewalk against her back and the loud thunk of her head as it hit the ground and knocked her out.

* * *

“I don’t understand. What was she doing in SoHo without any money or identification? Was she mugged?”

Adrienne recognized the voice of Pauline Dempsey, her tone growing more shrill with concern. For a minute, everything was jumbled in her mind. Where was she? The last thing she remembered was fighting with Nigel. How did she end up in a room with Cynthia’s parents? She was curious but didn’t want to open her eyes. Her head hurt too much, and she was sure the lights illuminating her eyelids wouldn’t help.

“It’s possible, but I doubt it. The cops seem to think she was assaulted by someone she knew. The 911 dispatcher said the male caller gave her name. Without ID, no one would’ve known who she was otherwise.”

“I bet it was that man from last night. I knew I should’ve called security. How is my little girl going to get better at this rate?” This time the voice was her father’s. Or rather, George Dempsey’s.

Was she in the hospital again? Wait…Nigel hit her when she told him Cynthia was dead. She must’ve been knocked pretty hard to black out.

“She’s going to be fine. Fortunately, the man who hit her struck her jaw and not her cheekbones or any of the other parts that are still healing from surgery. She has a concussion, so we’ll need to keep an eye on her for a little bit, but I don’t think it’s very serious.”

“Very serious?” George’s voice grew louder with irritation. “My daughter can’t remember who she is, and you think another blow to the head isn’t serious?”

There was no way Adrienne was going to be able to stay floating around in the dark sea that comforted her. Someone had to put a stop to this circus. She forced her eyes open, her hand coming up quick to cup her jaw when a groan sent a bolt of pain through her face. “Ow.”

“Cynthia?”

They still thought she was Cynthia. Will hadn’t told them the truth. She had the opportunity to end things differently than she had with Will, and she wanted to. She didn’t want the couple that had been so kind to her to hate her the way he did.

Adrienne pushed herself up and looked around. She was in a hospital bed again, one very similar to the one she’d woken up in a few weeks ago, if not the very same. Pauline and George were standing to her left, the doctor to her right. And in the back of the room, leaning against the wall, was Will.

He didn’t say anything when she looked at him. He just watched her with cold indifference. He hated her; she could tell as much from the stiff crossing of his arms and hardened jaw. But he hadn’t told Cynthia’s parents the truth. Why? He’d seemed angry enough to want to expose her to everyone, and yet he hadn’t.

“Cynthia, are you okay? What happened to you? Were you attacked?” Pauline was at her side in an instant, rubbing her arm protectively.

Adrienne shifted her gaze from Will and turned to the woman seated beside her.

“I’m not Cynthia,” she said as she softly shook her head.

Pauline and George both frowned and looked at one another with concern. “What’s that dear?” Pauline asked.

“My name isn’t Cynthia. I remember now. I remember everything. My name’s Adrienne. Adrienne Lockhart.”

Her two former parents turned from her to the doctor, their eyes wide with confusion and concern.

“Doctor, what’s going on?” George demanded.

The doctor frowned and approached the bed. He pulled out a pen light and shined it in her eyes while asking her questions about dates and political figures. She got all the answers right, but that didn’t seem to make him any happier. “You say you’re not Cynthia Dempsey?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding her head and wincing with the movement. That bastard had hit her hard. “I’m certain my name is Adrienne. I’m from Milwaukee. My parents were Allen and Miriam Lockhart.” She looked at Pauline and then George. “I don’t understand how this could happen. How could I be confused with another person?”

Pauline pulled away, taking a few steps back to cradle herself against George’s side. Adrienne hated to see the pained expressions on their faces. She didn’t have to tell them the implications of her announcement like she had with Nigel. Only a small child and a teenage boy survived the crash with her. If she wasn’t Cynthia, then their daughter was amongst the casualties.

“Your accident was very severe, and you were almost unrecognizable.” The doctor was already covering his bases for the inevitable lawsuit. “Do you remember living as Cynthia?”

Adrienne nodded again. “I do. I don’t recall the day of the accident, but I remember everything else, before and after the crash.”

“It appears as though your memory loss has been reversed, perhaps by the second blow to the head. And that leads us to another unfortunate complication. Please excuse us,” the doctor said to her. “I need to speak with the Dempseys in private.” He held out his hand and ushered the couple into the hallway for more damage control.

Adrienne took a deep breath and flopped back against her pillows once the door shut. She closed her eyes as tears formed and blurred her vision of the angry man across from her bed. She refused to cry again with Will still there, watching her. He’d never believe the truth—that her heart was broken—and would probably accuse her of crocodile tears for sympathy.

“You didn’t tell them,” she said at last when he continued to stand there without speaking.

“I wanted to see if you did the right thing first.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. It was so hard to look at the man she loved and see the naked rage of a stranger instead. He was nothing like the relaxed, happy Will who had kissed her in Times Square and swept her across the dance floor at her party. All that was left was the cold, hard shell of a businessman poised to take down a competitor. There was no reading him. It made it impossible to know if she’d passed his test. “And?”

“And you’re a better actress than I thought.” At that, he turned and strode from the room without glancing back.

With the slam of the hospital room door, the last remaining fragments of love and hope left in Adrienne’s heart shattered, and she could no longer hold back the tears.

* * *

“You can stay with me as long as you need to. Or can stand to. My apartment is a fifth-floor walkup and only four hundred square feet, so I expect you to be gone by Wednesday.”

Gwen held out a key and a slip of paper with her address. “You just make yourself at home. Eat whatever you like. You can probably fit in some of my clothes, too, although the pants might run a little short on you since I come from a family of elves. I’ll be home around six in the morning.”

Adrienne leaned in and hugged Gwen fiercely. When it was all said and done, the only friend she’d made since her accident was the only one she had left. It had been less than twenty four hours since the news of Cynthia’s death, and already the world had lost interest in Adrienne Lockhart.

“You don’t know how much I appreciate this,” Adrienne said, fighting the tears that were a constant threat of late.