Untrue Colors (Entangled Select Suspense) (20 page)

The thought that he could and would harm her family sucked the air from her lungs. She needed to stay strong. “I might be losing my touch. I’m having a hard time right now determining if those heathens standing behind me are human or ape.”

“Hey.” One of the apes became offended at the accuracy of her description.

“Back off, Pascal. She’ll be available to you later.”

“Shit.” Alex stepped back, her widened eyes mocking them. “Is he going to eat me?”

Pascal closed the gap between them. “I’m going to break your other leg.”

“Good luck with that. You must be embarrassed that you only made a hairline fracture of the tibia and didn’t break it in two. Luc’s standards must have fallen, because he used to employ only the best.”

Luc pulled Pascal away from her and made him stand by the wall. Alex waved as he was placed in a time-out.

When the civil servant arrived, Luc told him to proceed directly to the vows. They had to be spoken in French. Alex almost said them in English, but realized screwing up the wedding might harm her family. She’d go through the motions in order to become a widow before Labor Day.

Committing herself to Luc as his bride bothered her more than she cared to admit. She hated breaking oaths, and yet she had no intention of keeping these vows. For now, however, she had to comply with Luc’s wishes and prayed her wedding night wouldn’t involve agony and humiliation. She’d be obedient until the first moment she had to rip every last bit of life from his heinous existence.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Peter Northrop offered Henry the use of a bathroom to clean off the blood from his face and to change into clean clothes. Not particularly generous considering it was his overanxious security detail that had rumpled his appearance in the first place. After cleaning up, he went in search of Mr. Northrop, his wife, and his daughter Julia in their breakfast room. A pissed-off security guard followed him like a shadow on a sunny day. No doubt the fact that Henry would be sharing breakfast with the family while Declan was traveling to the hospital for a few stitches added to the man’s hostility.

As Henry trekked down an endless hallway, a large portrait over the fireplace in the study came into view. The sight froze Henry in place.

Alex.

She appeared to be about fourteen or fifteen in the painting. Her long brown hair had been pulled high into a messy ponytail with random chunks falling out around her face. The artist captured her brandy-tinted eyes filled with adolescent annoyance and rolled back in aggravation at having to pose for such a long time. The young woman, attired in black jeans and a cream-colored crewneck sweater, leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, defiant and amazing. A 4-D person in a 3-D world.

How could anyone want to tone down such perfection and force her into a staid life where she’d suffocate under social restrictions and extreme expectations? She’d set herself free to display her true colors to the world. Thank God she did, or he never would have met her.

When he arrived in the breakfast room, Mrs. Northrop offered him a seat. The family held themselves aloof as was expected. He’d arrived as an armed stranger at their door, searching for their lost child.

Mrs. Northrop, the real Gabrielle, sat poised and elegant, her smooth brown hair pulled into a neat bun. Wearing a simple tan dress and a sweater, she acknowledged Henry with a tentative smile, one that reached her cheeks, but faded before engaging her eyes. She offered him her hand in greeting.

Mr. Northrop, on the other hand, regarded Henry the way a duke of old would acknowledge a footman. He seemed put out to be having a guest of such little consequence. Henry cloaked himself with the aristocratic airs of his own father, another pretentious patriarch. He leaned back in his chair and countered Mr. Northrop’s attitude with a proud countenance of his own. As nonsensical as that seemed, it often worked to earn the respect of some of the blowhards in his own country.

Julia poured Henry a mug of coffee and offered him some refreshments. “Are you called Lord Ripon?” she asked while sliding the cream toward his cup. Despite watching a bevy of security guards disarm him a half an hour ago, she appeared quite at ease in his presence. Her smile seemed genuine and her demeanor welcoming.

“Please, call me Henry.”

He couldn’t help staring at her. Despite longer hair and a more sunny disposition, her appearance reminded him of Alex. Even as Julia held herself with the confidence that comes with a billion dollars in the bank, she acted approachable and warmhearted. He saw her approval of him, despite his airs of self-importance. Could she read his intentions so easily? Alex was a lousy judge of character, thus her current predicament.

“I haven’t heard from Alex in a long time. I’m curious for any news you can give me.”

“Julia, I’d prefer we refrain from discussing our personal business with Mr. Chilton.” Obviously not a fan of titles, nor familiar names, Peter Northrop didn’t seem to tolerate idle chitchat in front of strangers. He turned to Henry. “So how did you meet Alexandra?”

“She was a guest at a dinner party at my house. We’d decided to travel together to an art exhibition in Atlanta.”

“And the last time you spoke to her?” His tone became an accusation.

Henry restricted his words to only what Mr. Northrop needed to know. “Four days ago. She disappeared from the gallery. I’m worried about her, and now with the death on your property, I’m even more concerned.”

Mr. Northrop tented his fingers in front of his chin. “I find it strange that Julia loses contact with Alexandra for six months, and then Anna receives a cryptic message from her warning of a death threat. Within twenty-four hours, my head of security is gunned down on my property. And now, you arrive at her childhood home in search of her. She hasn’t lived here in almost a decade. Haven’t we been through enough?”

Henry couldn’t temper the scowl he aimed at Mr. Northrop. The guy didn’t want to help him. He wanted to minimize his bad press. “As I told you earlier, she went missing at the auction we attended together. I assumed she’d try to seek you out since she was in the States.”

“What specifically is your relationship with Alexandra, Mr. Chilton?”

What was their relationship? Business associates? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Lovers? “We’re engaged.”

Mrs. Northrop paled, and then pulled her emotions inside, leaving Henry to wonder whether she was more shocked by Alex’s sudden reappearance and departure or her engagement.

“Engaged?” Julia shrieked and jumped up to give Henry an unexpected hug. “How wonderful. When’s the wedding? We have to be invited. Tell Alex I’d travel through the nine gates of hell to see her again. Anna would, too.”

Before Henry could answer, Mr. Northrop cleared his throat for attention. Julia and Henry both turned toward him.

“How long did you wait to propose after learning of Alexandra’s family and the amount held for her in trust?”

“I beg your pardon? You know nothing about me and nothing about Alex, either, to speak such drivel.”

Mr. Northrop shook his head. “Your type are a dime a dozen. Unlike the useless nobility in Europe, I earned my fortune.” His voice deepened into a threat. “And I’ll tell you this, you have a better chance of being named Miss America than you do of getting your hands on that cash.”

Her father’s belief that a man couldn’t love Alex for anything but her wealth churned in Henry’s gut. He fought hard to stay in control. This man was toxic, and Alex was better off without him.

Henry took a breath and spoke with a restrained calm. “Your opinion of me matters only to yourself. The purpose of my visit was not to kiss your arse, but to locate Alex. She’s in trouble, and I’ll do whatever I can to protect her. Obviously, she didn’t feel the need to return to what had been her home many,
many
years ago. I now understand why. Instead of offering assistance, you show contempt toward the only person actively looking for her.”

“She didn’t want to be found. We never closed the door on her coming back.”

“Admirable.”

“I will not be insulted by some worthless gold digger.”

“I can assure you I had ample opportunity to pursue a career in something significantly more profitable than anthropology. My life is not defined by my title, my bank account, or my profession. Protecting your assets instead of assisting me in finding your daughter makes you far more pathetic. And it makes me thankful Alex has not remained under your influence.” Henry wiped his mouth with the napkin from his lap and stood up. “This meeting is over. I understand her family history a whole lot better now having met you in person. Good day, Mr. Northrop.”

Henry turned to Mrs. Northrop, her lips pinched in her emotions. “I’m sorry to leave so abruptly, but I promise to have Alex contact you when I find her.”

She rose from her chair and clasped Henry’s hands, ignoring her husband. “Thank you, Lord Ripon. Thank you for looking for her. I’d do anything to know she’s all right.”

He said good-bye to Julia and left to locate his bags.

When he arrived in the front of the house to wait for his taxi, a red Tesla stopped in front of him. Julia hopped out of the driver’s seat and popped the front trunk.

“Get in. I’m taking you to the airport. I need an update on my sister. Sorry about father’s outburst. He’s a tyrant, but he means well. That’s his traditional
welcome to the family
speech. He’ll be over his insecurities by the wedding.”

Henry hesitated. “I don’t want to cause any rifts between you and him.”

“That would never happen. We’ve learned to differ on just about everything in life, but still respect each other. I don’t think he’s ever forgiven himself for driving Alex away from home, so now he’s defensive about it.”

“I apologize for my rude exit, but I have little sympathy for your father.”

“He doesn’t want sympathy, he wants world domination. I think he’ll respect you more for telling him off. Jason, Anna’s husband, is such a major league suck-up the entire family has written him off as a loser. It’s fitting that Alex has a warrior on her side.” She handed him a piece of paper. “Anna and I were on the beach the day Adam was shot. We watched a woman fighting with a man in the same location. It sounded like two lovers having an argument. We were too far away to identify them, but the police found a duffel bag near Adam’s body. It contained Alex’s expired passport, a wallet, and some other stuff. Local, state, and federal law enforcement are working on the case. My father even hired a private investigator to try to locate Alex. So far, there’s no evidence of her existence, except for the bag. I made a list of the contents for you. Maybe it will help you find her.”

During the journey from Concord to Boston, Julia told Henry about her childhood and living under Peter Northrop’s roof. Henry shared a little of what he knew about Alex eight years later, hiding the fact that he didn’t know near enough. His thoughts, however, remained focused on the list in his hand.

…

Alex always hated Luc’s imposing mass of stone on the right bank of Paris. Built in the year 1900, the style was reminiscent of a fairy-tale château, but the feelings and memories it evoked reminded her of a horror movie. She’d lost her virginity in a brutal and emotionless manner in the elegant master bedroom suite. Luc had cracked her rib in the spacious, modernized kitchen and pushed her down the gorgeous, curved marble staircase. Stolen art decorated the walls, and artifacts sat in display cases after being pillaged from countries that were losing their heritage under their noses. From a hidden spot on the stairway, Alex had watched Danielle and her boyfriend murdered in the art gallery under those priceless paintings and artifacts, after Danielle had argued with Luc over moving to San Francisco.

Pascal shoved Alex through the back entryway. Her crutches slid, and she lost her balance. Falling to the floor, she paused in place to catch her breath. The pain in her leg throbbed, but she didn’t want medicine clouding her judgment, so she tried to ignore it. She took a quick intake of air and bit down with her back molars to suck in the scream that wanted to come out, but couldn’t, in order to keep Pascal from exploiting her weakness.

“Get up.” He stood over her, yet offered no assistance.

She remained on the floor for a second too long. Pascal kicked her cast. Pain shot through her leg, causing Alex’s back and neck muscles to wrench. Her gasp and the water pooling in her eyes must have provided him with enough of a response, because he backed off. She shifted her position to brace herself with the crutches and lift herself up.

Gritting through the agony coursing through her leg, she limped one step ahead of Pascal down the hall toward the kitchen, avoiding his rough grasp. A cook or someone else in the household staff might be in the kitchen. Their presence could soften Pascal’s aggressive treatment of her. They wouldn’t actually help her. She wasn’t that optimistic. They’d be risking their own lives to save hers and, honestly, she didn’t want another death on her hands. The blood she was responsible for already made Lady Macbeth’s hands appear downright sterile.

Hope rushed through her at the sight of a woman by the counter until the woman’s dress and demeanor came into focus. Her long straight brown hair cascaded across her shoulders, her plunging neckline exposed double Ds, and her tight skirt revealed sexy stripper legs. The kind only seen spread apart from the back as the woman bent over to present her ass to a room full of horny men. Definitely not a cook. She had an arrogant manner merely pouring hot water into a cup. This sensual woman must be Luc’s latest bed partner. She was more his type than Alex was. Slutty and, most likely, easily deceived.

“Good, you’re back.” The stripper spoke in the Queen’s English to Pascal. “I’m going to need…” She stopped talking when she noticed Alex.

A casual stroll of her eyes over Alex’s pathetic wedding attire and cast caused her to smirk. “
Bonjour. Tu es qui
?” The words came out slow and pronounced in an exaggerated manner. Was she sucky at foreign languages or speaking to Alex like a child?

“Don’t bother.” Pascal spoke in barely conversant English. “She speaks better English than you. Her French is better than yours, too. She’s American and Luc’s new bride.”

“New bride?” The woman’s eyes widened a smidgen, but soon returned to a more relaxed exterior.

Without showing a hint of jealousy at being introduced to her husband’s lover, Alex smiled and put out her hand. “Hi. I’m Alex.”

The woman’s eyebrows raised a fraction; perhaps she’d heard of her. She gripped Alex’s hand and stared into her eyes, looking for something. “I’m Nicola. Nice to meet you. I’m a guest of Luc’s.”

Simon’s Nicola?
Alex needed more information. This connected Simon and Luc in a way she couldn’t piece together.
Had Simon set her up?
She didn’t know what to believe.

“Nice to meet you.”

“What happened to your leg?” For a moment, Nicola appeared to send pity in Alex’s direction, but as Pascal approached them, the expression turned to conceit. “You’re not Luc’s type at all. He tends to prefer sophistication and elegance in his girlfriends.”

“Luckily, I’m not his girlfriend. Too much pressure to perform. As his wife, I’m stuck with him until one of us dies, hopefully sooner than later. Therefore, there’s not much need to impress him. You, on the other hand, conform to all of Luc’s specs—tall, lean, full of self-importance. He’ll have replaced you by the end of the week.”

Nicola ignored her digs. “This makes an interesting twist on our relationship. I’ll discuss it with him tonight in bed.”