Barbara Dunlop - Marriage, Manhattan Style

Reed directed the conversation. “I thought you had somebody on Elizabeth,” he told Selina.

She looked startled. “I do.”

“She went downtown today. I need a report on things like that.”

She jotted down a note in her book. “Sure.”

Collin looked at him strangely. “Did something happen while Elizabeth was downtown?” he asked.

“She visited a friend. But I didn’t know where she was.”

“Just to be clear,” Selina added. “Do you want a report on Mrs. Wellington’s daily activities or on potential threats?”

Reed took in the expressions on their faces. “I’m not spying on my wife,” he protested. But neither did he want her wandering around drunk downtown when there might be a murderer on the loose.

“Perhaps if we changed the nature of the operation,” suggested Selina. “Put Joe a little closer to Mrs. Wellington. Say, as her driver? That way, he doesn’t have to stay concealed, and he can report to you at intervals.”

“I like it,” said Reed. “What else do you have?”

“Kendrick,” said Collin.

“You found him?”

Collin shook his head. “He’s still in Washington, elusive as ever. But some more information has come to light.”

“Does it help us?”

Collin and Selina glanced at each other.

“Unfortunately,” said Collin, “Hammond and Pysanski also invested in Ellias and made a bundle.”

“But, they’re-”

“Kendrick’s former business partners.”

Reed rocked back in his chair.

“It does look pretty bad,” said Selina.

Reed couldn’t help but defend himself. “Do you honestly think that if I were going to put together a conspiracy to insider trade, that this would be my master plan? A senator giving a heads up on a contract award to four of his closest associates, hoping nobody would notice? It’s lame-ass. It’s beyond stupid.”

Collin leaned forward, eyes hard as he mimicked Reed. “‘I’m a smarter criminal than that, Your Honor.’ Is that really going to be the cornerstone of your defense?”

“You got a better one?”

“Not at the moment. But if I don’t come up with something better than that, Harvard Law School wasted a lot of time and money on me.”

“I want this behind me,” Reed growled. “There are problems cropping up in the Irish merger, and Germany is talking about changing their safety standards. I don’t have time for distractions.”

“I’m meeting with the SEC tomorrow,” said Selina.

“Take Collin with you.”

Something twitched in her expression.

“What?” asked Reed.

She hesitated. “Sometimes Collin cramps my style.”

Reed felt his hands curl involuntarily into fists. “There are problems between you two?”

“Stylistic differences,” said Collin.

“I take a tough stance. He undermines it.”

Reed glanced from one to the other. “You’re kidding me?” With all they were facing, these two couldn’t get together on their interview techniques?

“Work it out. I want you both in that meeting.”

Selina’s gaze slid to Collin. He nodded, then so did she.

“Have Joe stop at the office in the morning,” said Reed, wrapping things up. “I’ll bring him by and introduce him to Elizabeth.”

Morning was not kind to Elizabeth.

Rain spattered on the penthouse roof, tapping against her bedroom balcony doors, pounding its way into her fragile skull. She pulled the comforter over her head, praying her housekeeper, Rena, wasn’t planning to vacuum today.

Slamming back margaritas on an empty stomach had obviously been a bad idea. It had been a few years since Elizabeth had gotten drunk. And, right now, she was sure it would be many more years before she indulged in more than two drinks in an evening. She blinked open one bleary eye, squinting at the alarm clock. Nine-fifty-two.

She spotted a large glass of water on the nightstand. Sitting next to it were two aspirin tablets. Bless Reed.

She wiggled herself into a sitting position and took the pills. If she could sleep until they kicked in, she’d have a fighting chance of surviving this hangover.

Bless Reed, she thought again. She could forgive him anything at the moment. Well, almost anything.

Though, in the cold light of day, she realized it was unlikely he was having an affair. It wasn’t so much her confidence in the strength of their relationship. It was more her knowledge of his core values and principles.

Reed wouldn’t cheat.

Even if he wanted to cheat, his honor and principles wouldn’t let him.

The rain pulsed harder on the window. She pressed her fingers into her ears and buried her face in the feather pillow, conjuring images of the night before.

Hanna had blended up some fine margaritas, and she’d handed out some sage and practical advice. Plus, it had felt just plain good for Elizabeth to get her anxiety off her chest.

But then Reed had called and annoyed her. Still, when he’d helped her to bed, she’d remembered all the reasons she’d fallen in love with him in the first place. So she’d propositioned him, because time was running out.

Now, she groaned. Time really was running out, and she had no memory past asking to make love last night. She was pretty sure she’d remember it if it had happened.

So, she wasn’t pregnant. And it was day three of ovulation. But she didn’t think she could even drag herself out of bed at the moment, never mind seduce her husband.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the downpour turned torrential. But slowly, ever so slowly, the sound of the raindrops stopped hurting her brain. They became soothing, and the pain went from sharp to dull.

She drifted in and out for an hour, then forced herself to throw off the covers, pulling gingerly into a sitting position. She was tired, but at least she was mobile.

She showered and dressed, and applied a little concealer to disguise the dark circles under her eyes.

She wasn’t quite ready for a workout at the gym, but she needed to get the blood flowing somehow. The rain was steady, so a walk was out of the question. She needed to find something to do inside.

The penthouse was empty. Rena was likely out running errands and would be home soon. She didn’t like it when Elizabeth cleaned. Baking was acceptable, but baking would fill the suite with aromas.

Not good.

Elizabeth glanced around for inspiration. She caught sight of the living room bookshelf. There was an idea. She could sort through her books, maybe donate some of the older ones to the library. And Reed had hundreds shelved in his office. She’d call Rena on her cell and get her to pick up some cardboard boxes on her way home.

Perfect.

After gathering a sizable pile in the living room, she moved to the office.

Reed liked the occasional mystery or thriller, the kind of book that you didn’t reread once you knew the ending. She tugged a couple of his volumes from the eye level shelves and carried them to the black meeting table.

There she paused, wrinkling her nose, trying to identify an unusual smell. It wasn’t dust, not leather, not furniture polish. Where had she…

Coconut.

She staggered back in shock.

That woman in Reed’s office had smelled of coconut.

“Elizabeth?” Reed called from the entry hall.

The coconut woman had been in the penthouse? Her penthouse? Her home?

“What’s with the books?”

She could hear his footsteps starting down the hall.

What did she do? Ignore it? Confront him? Look for more evidence?

Was this why he hadn’t made love with her last night? Or yesterday? Or last week?

“There you are.” He came around the corner and smiled. “Feeling okay?”

She stared at him in silence, trying to reconcile the man she knew with such reprehensible behavior. While she was desperately trying to save their marriage, had he already ended it?

“There’s somebody I want you to meet,” said Reed, coming fully into the room.

Not her. Good grief, not her.

“This is Joe Germain.”

A man came into view in the doorway, and Reed motioned him into the office.

“Joe, this is my wife, Elizabeth Wellington.”

The man stepped forward. He was at least six foot three, with broad shoulders, a burly chest, and very little in the way of a neck. His hair was cropped close, and he wore a dark, neat suit with a dress shirt and tie.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Wellington.” The man held out a strong, callused hand.

“Hello,” Elizabeth managed, giving a brief shake, catching a glimpse of a leather holster beneath his suit jacket. Then she met gray eyes, intelligent eyes, some might even say cunning.

“I’ve hired Joe as your driver,” Reed continued.

A driver?

Elizabeth might have been duped, but she wasn’t stupid. The man looked like he was half linebacker, half mercenary. He definitely wasn’t somebody she’d want to be alone with in a dark alley.

A visceral chill worked its way up her spine.

“Elizabeth?” Reed’s confused voice seemed to come from a long way off. “Are you okay?”

She looked back to her husband, her lying, cheating, untrustworthy husband. “I don’t need a driver.”

“Elizabeth,” said Hanna, her voice chastising as she dunked a tea bag into the teapot at her counter. “You have seriously gone round the bend.”

“He insisted, absolutely insisted I keep the guy as my driver.” Elizabeth had tried every argument in the book to change Reed’s mind, but his stubbornness had been off the charts, even for him.

“Maybe he simply wants you to have a driver. You did get pretty drunk last night.”

“That guy is not a driver.”

“He drove you here, didn’t he?”

Only because Elizabeth had been too frightened to try to escape. “I think he’s a criminal.”

“Now, why on earth would Reed hire a criminal?”

Elizabeth hesitated, reluctant to give voice to the fear that had followed her over. But she had to share it with someone. “What if they’re right?”

“Who?” Hanna returned to the living area of her loft, where rain pattered on the skylights, and dull daylight gave the airy room a gray atmosphere.

“The SEC. What if Reed has a secret life? What if his wealth really is from shady deals with the underworld?” Her mouth went dry and her voice shook ever so slightly. “You know, he’s got an awful lot of money.”

Hanna enunciated slowly and carefully. “Round the bend, Elizabeth. Reed is a husband and a businessman.”

But there were too many inconsistencies lately. He was being far too secretive for this to all be nothing. “Not that much of a husband,” Elizabeth pointed out. “He’s fooling around with the coconut woman.”

“You don’t know that he’s fooling around with the coconut woman.”

“He lied about her. And I know she was in our suite.” Elizabeth warmed to the theory. “You know, my parents warned me about rich people. They said they were sly and untrustworthy. They were rich for a reason, and it wasn’t hard work and fair trade practices.”

“Elizabeth.”

“What?”

“You disagree with your parents on that, remember?”

“I was wrong. And look where it got me.”

Hanna fought a grin. “You mean with the imagination of a conspiracy theorist? Forget being a script girl. You might want to consider scriptwriting as your future career.”

“What future career? I’ll probably be killed in gangland crossfire before I can ever get a career off the ground. I might know too much already.”

“This is insane,” said Hanna, picking up her phone. “What’s his name?”

“Reed Anton Wellington III.”

Hanna shot her a look of dark disbelief. “I mean your driver.”

“Oh. Joe Germain. What are you doing?”

“I’m calling Bert Ralston. You give an investigative reporter an hour, and you’ll be amazed what he can find out.”

Elizabeth plunked back on the couch. That wasn’t a half bad idea. At least then Hanna would believe her. At least then Elizabeth would know if she was in any danger from Joe.

How could Reed do this to her? She’d been an innocent young college graduate from New Hampshire when he met her, wooed her, enticed her away from the safe bosom of her family. She never should have borrowed that red dress, or gone on the harbor cruise. Then she never would have met Reed.

Hanna hung up the phone. “You know, you were a lot more fun last night when you were drunk.”

“You’re not taking this seriously enough,” Elizabeth accused.

Hanna rose to pour the tea. “I’m taking this exactly seriously enough. You want vanilla cookies?”

Elizabeth’s stomach gave a little lurch of protest. “How come you’re not hung over?” she asked Hanna, rising to follow her into the kitchen area.

“Because you outdrank me. How are you feeling by the way?”