Sidney Sheldon's Mistress of the Game (38 page)

But it hadn’t happened. Kruger-Brent was like a giant spider. Every time you cut off one of its legs, it grew back. Max was winning the game. The bastard was beating her.

Her temper was not improved when she comprehensively lost the first two rounds of the card game. “This is ridiculous. Whoever heard of a game where you’re not supposed to win?”

Robbie laughed. He adored the furious look on Lexi’s face. It was the same look she’d had at age six when she lost at Chutes and Ladders, and demanded that either he or the nanny agree to a rematch.

“You
are
supposed to win. But you have to win by losing.”

“Actually, there’s another rule,” said Gabe. “I didn’t tell you about it before because it basically never happens. But if you somehow manage to win
all
the hearts
and
the black Mariah—if you get every conceivable penalty card against you, in other words—then you have an option either to halve your own minus points or double your opponents’.”

Lexi was quiet. A few minutes later, her bad mood miraculously evaporated. Scooting across the couch, she wrapped her arms around Gabe and kissed him.

“Come on, then, let’s play. Whose turn is it to deal?”

Robbie watched Gabe’s face light up.

“What was that for?”

“Nothing. I love you, that’s all.”

Later that night, Gabe and Lexi made love for the first time in weeks. Lexi had been so preoccupied with work recently, she’d been neglecting Gabe. But tonight she made up for it, teasing and caressing him till he begged to get inside her, whispering her undying love in his ear. Afterward, Gabe fell into a deep, contented sleep.

Lexi lay awake, her mind racing, too excited to close her eyes.

At last, at long, long last, she’d figured it out. It was Gabe who’d given her the idea.

I know how I’m going to win back Kruger-Brent.

I’ve been playing the wrong game all along.

Lisa Jenner, Eve Blackwell’s maid, brushed her mistress’s long gray hair and let her mind wander. The old woman was rambling again.

“Rory loved me. He was going to marry me, you know. But then that man tricked me. He waited till I was helpless, unconscious, and he did
this
.” Eve ran her wizened, veiny hands across her face, probing the scars with her fingers.

“Which man, madam?” Lisa had only been working for Ms. Blackwell for a month, but was already used to her insane outbursts.

“My husband, of course!” Eve snapped. “Max.”

“Your husband is dead, madam. He was killed in an accident a long time ago. Max is your son. Remember?”

Eve frowned.
Max is my son. My son?

“My son is a fool. He’s destroying Kruger-Brent. He’s weak, like his father.”

Lisa Jenner twisted Eve’s hair into a high, tight bun and secured it with an ivory pin. Then she replaced her mistress’s veil.

“There we are. All done,” she said brightly. “Max is waiting for you in the drawing room with Dr. Marshall. Would you like me to take you through?”

“No!” Eve’s voice was shrill with panic. “My face! Don’t let him touch my face! He’s not a doctor. He’s a maniac!”

“It’s all right, Lisa. I’ll handle this.”

Annabel had insisted on coming with Max today. The last time he visited his mother on his own, he came home a wreck, his frail nerves stretched to the breaking point. She wasn’t about to let it happen again.

“Come along now, Eve. Dr. Marshall isn’t here to hurt you.”

“Who are you?”

“It’s Annabel, Eve. Max’s wife. Max and I are here to have a chat with the doctor. We brought you some of that smoked cheese you like.”

“She’s a good breeder, Max’s wife.” Eve got unsteadily to her feet. “He should hurry up and marry her. Kruger-Brent must have an heir.”

Kruger-Brent.
How Annabel had come to loathe those two words. The pressure of running Kruger-Brent had brought poor Max to the brink of a nervous breakdown. His mother seemed to expect him to wave a magic wand and recoup all their losses overnight. She had no idea of the reality of the market. Then again, how could she?

The old battle-ax barely knows her own name.

“Hello, Mother. You look well.”

Eve shuffled into the drawing room. Age had not crept up on Eve Blackwell. It had ambushed her suddenly. In a matter of months, her ramrod-straight spine had become bowed and stooped. Faint veins on the backs of her hands stood out like tree roots. Liver spots burst like a
plague over her once flawless skin. But none of these changes mattered to Max. In his eyes, his mother was eternally beautiful.

He moved forward to kiss her. Eve brushed him aside.

“I know what you did,” she hissed. “I’m going to tell everybody.
Then
you’ll be sorry.”

Annabel watched Max shrink.
Why does he let her crush him? What power does she hold over him?

“That’s enough, Eve,” she said. “You’re confused.”

While the doctor took Eve’s blood pressure, Max took Lisa Jenner aside.

“Has she been like this the whole time? Or is it worse, you know, when I’m here?”

“You mustn’t blame yourself, sir,” the maid said kindly. “She has her lucid moments. But this is pretty much par for the course. She’s been writing a lot. That seems to calm her.”

“Writing? Writing what?”

“I don’t know. Just rambling, I think. She won’t let me see it. She keeps all her papers locked in the desk drawer.”

Later, Max repeated to Annabel what Lisa had told him. “Do you think I should open the drawer? Take a look?”

“No,” Annabel said firmly. “She may be old and mad as a hatter, but she’s entitled to her privacy.”

In fact, Annabel Webster couldn’t have cared less about her mother-in-law’s privacy. Her only concern was for Max.
God knows what venomous drivel is in those papers. As soon as she drops dead, I’ll open the drawer myself and burn them.

Lexi was late home. Again.

Gabe couldn’t hide his disappointment. “I made dinner. Two hours ago. Where the hell have you been?”

“At work.” As always when she was in the wrong, Lexi’s tone was aggressive. “Just because you’ve lost your ambition, it doesn’t mean I have to.”

Gabe’s face crumpled with hurt. The irony was that he’d taken a backseat at Phoenix in order to spend more time with Lexi. He hoped eventually to persuade her to marry him and start a family. But whenever he brought up either subject, she either ducked the question or put her “bitch” hat on.

“You’re lying. I called the office. You left hours ago.”

“Oh, what, so you’re spying on me now?”

“Not spying. You were late. I was worried.”

“I’m a big girl, Gabe. If you must know, I was at a business meeting.”

“With whom?”

“None of your damn business!”

Lexi stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Pulling off her clothes, she tried to get her head together.

Why am I doing this? Why am I pushing him away?

Lexi loved Gabe as much as she ever had. More. But her stress levels were through the roof. She was preparing for the greatest battle of her life—the battle for control of Kruger-Brent—and she couldn’t tell Gabe, or anyone, what she was doing. The stakes could not be higher. If she failed, she would lose everything. Her fortune, her company, perhaps even her freedom.

Actually, there’s another rule. I didn’t tell you about it because it never happens…

You are supposed to win. You have to win by losing.

What if she won back Kruger-Brent, but lost Gabe?

She pushed the thought from her mind. She would win the game. She had to. Once she had Kruger-Brent, and her revenge on Max was complete, then she would make it up to Gabe. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Kruger-Brent failed to make payments on a loan in Singapore. The bank foreclosed on one of its properties. The amount involved was so small, Max never even knew about it. A Singaporian middle manager was fired. Kruger-Brent refinanced. End of story.

A few weeks later, a similar oversight in Germany led to another loan being called in. Again the amount was small.

Lexi made a note of the dates.

Karen Lomax, a financial journalist at the
Wall Street Journal
, received a phone call. After she hung up, she turned to her colleague Daniel Breen.

“Hey, Dan. You heard anything about credit problems at Kruger-Brent?”

Daniel Breen shook his head. “Have you?”

“Some lady just called. Said I should look into bad loans in Asia. Think there’s a story in it?”

Daniel Breen shrugged. “Only one way to find out, I guess.”

The cards were being dealt.

Gabe opened the file in front of him, skimming through the pictures.

“So she’s
not
having an affair?”

The private investigator shook his head. “From the evidence I’ve seen, sir, no, she’s not.” Gabe’s shoulders sagged visibly with relief. “However…”

Gabe looked up.

“There are some…anomalies.”

“What sort of anomalies?”

“Financial. If you turn to page twelve of the written document, it’s all in there.”

Gabe turned. Slowly, methodically, he started to read.

The first few weeks of Gabe’s love affair with Lexi had been like a dream.

Gabe had not believed it possible that he could love again after what had happened to Tara and his children. Certainly not while his grief was so raw. But in those first miraculous weeks at Robbie’s African hideaway, Lexi had breathed life into his deadened heart. When Gabe woke in the small hours, sweating and screaming Tara’s name, Lexi would wrap her arms around him and hold him till the nightmare passed. Gabe spoke about his children often, returning again and again to the terrible events of his birthday like a dog crawling back to its vomit. Lexi listened. He poured his guilt into her hands, and she took it from him, as gently and graciously as if he’d been giving her a bunch of flowers.

But eventually, inevitably, real life intruded upon their lovers’ idyll. Gabe handed over the day-to-day running of Phoenix to others, content to focus on Lexi and his charity work. If Tara’s murder had taught him one thing, it was that love and life were too precious to be wasted pushing paper around an office.

Lexi didn’t see things that way. She could no more stop working than stop breathing. Templeton was based in New York. Gabe moved to the city to be with her. He enjoyed New York, the energy and the excitement, but he never stopped feeling like a guest in Lexi’s apartment.
As a first step toward building a new, joint life together, Gabe bought an exquisite period house in Bridgehampton. Somewhere for them to get away, to make time for each other.

“What do you think?” He led Lexi around the wood-paneled rooms, each simply but beautifully furnished with chesterfield couches and Irish linens from the White Company. “I tried to make it peaceful. An escape from the city.”

“It’s…it’s cute.” Lexi tried to sound enthusiastic. But inside she thought:
I don’t want to escape from the city.

Gabe’s face fell. “You don’t like it.”

“I do! It’s not that. It’s just…when are we going to use it?”

“On weekends.”

“I work weekends, baby.”

Lexi didn’t just work weekends. She worked early mornings and late nights. She worked Thanksgiving and Labor Day. Gabe hadn’t realized that her fateful trip to visit her brother in South Africa was the first vacation she’d taken in over five years.

It wasn’t only the long hours. It was the secrecy. Lexi often talked in her sleep, rambling about Kruger-Brent and Max and revenge. She seemed to be anxious that time was running out. But when Gabe asked her, “Time for what?” Lexi pretended not to know what he was talking about. Not long ago, Gabe had been shocked when David Tennant, Lexi’s right-hand man at Templeton, mentioned in passing that the company was in trouble.

“Lexi’s been liquidating assets faster than any of us can keep up. The money disappears into these obscure holding companies, then
poof
, it’s gone.”

When Gabe challenged Lexi about this, she was dismissive.

“David’s a worrywart. I’ve moved some cash around, that’s all.”

“He says you’re stripping Templeton bare.”

“He’s exaggerating.”

Conversation closed.

Recently it had reached the point where Gabe felt he had to make an appointment to speak to Lexi at all. When he did, all the subjects
he
wanted to discuss—marriage, children, their future—were off the agenda.

“I can’t have children, Gabe. I’ve told you.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

This made Lexi angry.

“Fine. Won’t. What’s the difference?”

“There’s a lot of difference! Why won’t you? What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid of anything. Stop harassing me! You want me to spend more time with you, but when I do, you give me the third degree.”

Hiring the private investigator was a low point. But Gabe couldn’t take any more. He had to know what it was that Lexi was keeping from him. He loved her, but he was tired of sitting home, alone while Lexi flew God knows where on a never-ending business trip. He wasn’t her lover. He was her layover. That’s when it hit him.

Maybe she’s found someone else?

“I’m afraid I don’t fully understand this.” Gabe handed the file back to the PI, a fat man with the ruddy cheeks of a heavy drinker and a paunch so swollen it spilled over the edge of the couch, hanging almost to his knees.

“Ms. Templeton is a trustee of your charity?”

“She is, yes.”

“She’s authorized to make financial transactions on its behalf?”

“Yes. But that’s just a formality. Lexi’s celebrity is a useful tool for us. It helps to raise money. She’s not involved in the day-to-day business of the foundation.”

“Which makes it all the more curious that she’s made a number of sizable withdrawals from the charity’s accounts.”

The PI pulled a red pen out of his jacket pocket. He handed the relevant sheet of paper back to Gabe with the amounts and dates circled. Gabe stared at it for a long time.