Billionaire Stepbrother: Winter (Our Forbidden Year Book 3) (5 page)

“R
ight this way, gentlemen. If you’d like to take a seat, we’ll be with you in a moment,” I said to the officers as I showed them into the reception room. Their eyes practically bulging from their sockets as they strained to keep their neutral, professional appearances.

Archie took hold of my elbow and guided me quickly to my study and clicked the door shut.

“What do they have on me, Archie?”

“So far, nothing. Pure speculation. Photos that could’ve been taken ages ago. Or doctored, even. It’s her word against yours. They’re just here to ask routine questions.” He paused, thinking. “Do you have an alibi for the 4th?”

I thought back and shook my head. That was the night I should’ve been at Aimee’s. Instead I was attempting to secure our future.

“Well, not to worry. Keep it simple, and if you get into trouble, I’ll step in. They’ll be out of your hair in no time, lad.”

The officers stood as we re–entered the room. The first officer, the one clearly in charge, took the lead. His middle bulged beneath his uniform – neatly pressed but too small for his frame – and there were what looked to be remnants of his breakfast or lunch caught in the whiskers about his mouth.

“Thanks for agreeing to talk to us, Mr. Chamberlin.” He offered his hand, and we shook. “The name’s Detective Chief Inspector Grimble, and this is Detective Sergeant Harris.”

“DCI?” I questioned, my eyebrows raised.

“It’s a high profile case, and as you can imagine, the higher–ups want it all done correctly – the I’s dotted, the T’s crossed.”

I nodded.

“So, just a couple of questions if you don’t mind.” Grimble looked from me to Archie.

“Go ahead, Inspector,” Archie encouraged.

“Firstly, your full name is Alexandre Edwards Chamberlin, correct?”

I nodded.

“And you are twenty–six years of age?

I nodded again, impatiently.

“Inspector, my client is a busy man. You know full well who he is, so do us all the courtesy, and cut to the chase.”

“Of course, of course. Just gotta note it all down… for the official record and all that.”

Grimble sucked in a breath while his companion fidgeted with his notebook and pen.

“OK, then. How would describe your relationship with Miss Adrianna Stone?”

“I wouldn’t. We have no relationship. We broke up months ago. In early May.”

“So, not an amicable break–up. You’re not still friends?

“Friends? No, never were.”

“I see,” Grimble muttered. He tapped his cheap pen against the pad he held in his hands.

“When was the last time you saw Miss Stone?”

“I couldn’t quite say,” I replied.

“Couldn’t, or won’t?” Grimble countered.

Archie was about to jump in, but Grimble raised his hand in apology. “Last question and I’ll be out of your hair. Can you account for your whereabouts the night of the 4th, this month?”

My mouth moved to answer, but the words that came out did not belong to me.

“He was with me, sir.”

Four male heads spun towards the voice as Aimee appeared. She’d managed to get dressed into something more appropriate than lingerie and a dressing gown. But even so, her idea of casual wear made my mouth water. She wore a clingy black top that did nothing but show off her assets, and tight, indigo, hip–hugging jeans. She looked stunning.

I tried to neutralise the shock on my face, but luckily DCI Grimble’s attentions were focused elsewhere, namely at Aimee’s plunging neckline.

Wearing her knee–high boots, she clicked across the floor and squeezed between myself and Archie on the sofa, facing the officers.

“You were with your –?”

“Stepbrother,” she answered, her tone sweet as apple crumble and cream.

God almighty, what was she doing? Was she about to expose us both? The indecent nature of our relationship? I sat rigid, not wanting to hear what came out of her mouth next.

“Yes, Lex was with me on the 4th. I’m pretty sure of it,” she smiled.

“What makes you so sure, Miss?”

“Oh, call me Aimee. Well, I remember the date distinctly because the day after, the 5th, I had a big test. Worth a third of my mark for the year.”

Grimble interrupted, “What does that have to do with Mr. Chamberlin and the night in question?”

“Well, he helped me study the night before, the 4th. Lex used to go to Oxford, you see, and he’s been mentoring me since I started there in September.”

“OK,” Grimble said, not convinced. “So, this was where, exactly?”

“My apartment in Oxford,” she answered without hesitation.

“And what time did Mr. Chamberlin leave?” Grimble asked, looking down at his notes.

“He didn’t.”

Grimble’s eyes shot up and glared at Aimee; she stared right back.

Was he suspicious? Of course he was bloody suspicious; it was in his nature. You don’t get to be a detective without scrutinising everything and everyone, I thought.

“I see. He was there till morning?”

Aimee nodded.

Harris leaned over and whispered into Grimble’s ear.

“I think that’s quite enough, gentlemen. You got what you came for,” Archie said and stood up, forcing the other two men to do likewise.

“Fair enough, Mr. Sanderson. If we have any more questions we know where to find you and your client. Miss.” Grimble nodded goodbye to Aimee.

Archie led them out while I sat in stunned silence, facing Aimee on the sofa.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said, when they were out of earshot. “You know damn well I didn’t arrive at yours till the early morning.”

Her nose wrinkled and her eyes narrowed.

Archie reappeared under the archway. “Miss, that was quite foolish, but I admire your loyalty to your family. Anyway, keep to your stories, and I’ll make sure that’s the end of it. If there’s nothing further, my boy, I’ll see myself out.”

“Thanks for coming, Archie. I appreciate it,” I said and nodded a farewell to him.

“Now. You owe me the truth,” Aimee said, pointing a finger at me.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything. What happened with Adrianna?”

I paused, composing myself before saying the words out loud to her.

“Nothing… she’s accusing me of rape.”

Suddenly Aimee’s hand arced high in the air, and her palm struck my cheek.

Well, I suppose, one way or the other, I had that coming to me, I thought.

Before another blow fell, I caught her wrist and pinned it to her side.

“I haven’t been with anyone since you, Aimee. I didn’t do it.”

“Really? The same way you didn’t force yourself onto Phoebe?”

Fuck. Where had that come from? How long had she’d kept that little titbit of information tucked away?

“I never touched her. I may have played along with her futile attempts at entrapment, but I never laid a finger on her. Phoebe’s had it in for me the moment you told her about us.”

“I had to tell someone!”

“Fat lot of good it’s done! Are you blind? Can’t you see this is what she wants? She doesn’t think I’m good enough for you. But I swear, Aimee, I didn’t touch her.”

“She said you were naked… and hard.”

I sighed. “I promised I would never lie to you. I was naked.” Aimee shot up from the sofa and stalked away.

“Let me explain!” I shouted at her back.

“I don’t want to hear it, Lex. I can’t look at you right now.”

With monotonous steps she collected her few belongings from the bedroom and called for Steve to pick her up.

Ever fibre in my body screamed for me to stop her. To make her stay. But if she couldn’t wait long enough to listen, to hear my side of the story, then perhaps we weren’t worth saving.

I stood at the bottom of the stairs as she proceeded back down.

“You know I’m telling the truth,” I said, my words floating in the air as she passed me by without stopping to say farewell.

The door slammed in its frame, and I reached for the nearest crystal vase that sat clustered in the middle of a console table. I threw it against the wall, shattering it into tiny pieces. The blooms exploded, and red and yellow petals floated down to the floor and nestled amongst the broken glass.

Chapter Eight

M
y head pounded as I sat up – the after–effects of half a bottle of whiskey I’d downed the night before in attempts to drown my sorrows. I moved slowly. With each step the contents of my head sloshed around inside my skull.

I looked out the window at another miserable winter’s day, just like every other. And just like every year previous, snow had failed to make an appearance on Christmas day.

Dammit! I could’ve been on a sandy white beach, surrounded by women, and yet I’d stayed in the hopes Aimee would return, waiting for her to walk back in through the door.

I told myself I wouldn’t go after her, but my resolution was quickly crumbling away. After three days I decided enough was enough. I had to see her, for a moment at least, to make sure she knew all the facts. Not to mention, I did after all have a Christmas gift to give her… one she’d never forget. One that would solve practically all our worries. At least that’s what I hoped.

After tidying myself up to look semi–respectable, leaving a full day’s worth of stubble covering my cheeks, I had Steve pull the car around.

“Chamberlin Tower, sir?”

“You read my mind, Steve,” I said as he pulled open the car door for me.

I almost felt a pang of guilt keeping Steve on staff for Christmas Day, but then I remembered how much I was paying him.

“I left the file on the back seat for you. It contains everything you need.”

“Good work. I think you’re due a bonus.”

“Not at all, sir. Just doing my job.”

I nodded, slipped into the car and picked up the file. I flipped through the documents, studying each one as we drove to our destination. Perfect, I thought. If this all worked out as I planned, Steve would be getting that bonus, whether he liked it or not.

***

“You’re late,” my father said in greeting, rising from his seat on wobbly legs.

Loretta put down her fork and looked up. “We didn’t think you were coming.”

They could’ve been posing for a catalogue. The three of them sat around the main dining table that brimmed full of Christmas cheer; a cosy little family, perfect in every way, and here I was, about to shatter that pretty picture.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Loretta. Time got away from me. Please accept my apologies for my tardiness,” I said as I sat down in the chair directly opposite Aimee. She stiffened visibly, straightening in her seat as my eyes swept over her. I caught my breath as I took her in; she looked amazing in a body–hugging red sweater–dress, tiny crimson bows dotted all over the sparkly material. She studiously avoided my gaze.

“Oh not at all, Lex. We’re glad you could make it. I’m surprised you didn’t bring Adrianna,” Loretta shot back.

“Mom!” Aimee said and glared at Loretta.

“What? I thought they’d gotten back together? They’ve been in all the tabloids lately,” Loretta replied. “Can’t help but see their names together, splashed all over the place.”

“You know damn well they haven’t,” Aimee scolded.

“Loretta, my dear…” My father’s hand reached across the table to rest upon his wife’s arm, clearly demanding that she drop the subject.

“My mistake, you know I just look at the photos; I don’t pay attention to the story,” she continued, fluttering her hands in the air.

Loretta, you’re playing a dangerous game, I thought, and smiled at her. On the surface she seemed genuine, but beneath that glossy exterior there was nothing but lies, deceit and pure deviousness. Which would soon come to an end if I had my way.

Changing the subject, addressing me as if I were a child, Loretta asked, “So, Lex. Get anything good for Christmas?”

God, how I despised this woman.
I bit my tongue; I couldn’t reveal my true intentions too soon. I had to get her alone.

“Not so far, but the day’s not over yet,” I said as my eyes flickered to Aimee’s.

Finally a smile, a tiny one, but I’d managed to coax one from Aimee’s lips. Perhaps she was thinking the same thing I was? I wanted to unwrap her like a gift, peel away the layers of her dress and get to the good stuff beneath.

Had she forgiven me? I wanted to know badly, and I tried to meet her eyes again, but hers were fixed downward, concentrating on her meal.

Loretta’s eyebrow arched as she studied where my gaze had landed. “I see.” Loretta issued a polite cough and rose from the table. “Excuse me, I won’t be a moment. Aimee, care to help me in the kitchen?” Puzzled and unsure as to her intentions, Aimee put down her utensils and followed her mother.

This can’t be good
. I watched them leave, Loretta’s mouth whispering dangerous words into Aimee’s head. My father seemed completely oblivious to his surroundings, three sheets to the wind, as he swallowed another mouthful of sherry.

“Another?” I asked him.

He nodded, “Why not? It’s Christmas, after all.” I got up and took our glasses to the drinks trolley that was positioned close the kitchen entrance, allowing me to overhear Loretta and Aimee’s one–sided conversation.