Broken Trust (16 page)

twenty-two

Sylvia stood with her
arms crossed assessing her dining room. The expensive original oil paintings and the thick hand-woven rug over the shining rosewood floor pleased her. The chandelier glittered, throwing sparkles into the dark cathedral windows. An ordinary person would think it adequate, maybe even like it. But it didn’t suit Sylvia in the least.

The Chihuly should hang directly over the wrought iron and glass dining table she’d commissioned from an artist in Jackson Hole last year. A hard knot of frustration hit her gut as Sylvia adjusted one of the dining chairs. Until she had her glass
,
the room would be incomplete.

Sylvia’s heels sank into the deep pile of the rug and the folds of her negligee swished softly against her legs as she paraded down the hall. She paused in front of a full-length mirror, the designer frame setting off her image. Daniel would appreciate the view. Too bad they’d had that spat after the police station
last night
. She’d expected him all day but he hadn’t shown up
yet
. Sooner or later he would return to her.

The doorbell rang. The grandfather clock showed it was after nine. It could be Daniel, or maybe not. Her heart thudded against her ribs.

She descended two stairs to the foyer and tiptoed to the door to peek out the side window.

Daniel stood under the porch light. He oozed sex in his black blazer and jeans. He held a bottle of
Courvoisier
.

Sylvia smiled in satisfaction. She adjusted the neckline on the slinky black negligee, patted her hair
,
then unlocked the door and swung it wide.

“
Buenos noches
, Sylvia.” So much like his father; but he replaced the confidence of
a
mature man with the raw sexuality of a younger man.

“Please come in, Daniel.” She stepped back and her vision dropped to his shapely backside as he walked past her.

A splash of fur zipped by her, hurtling into the foyer. The damned calico cat slowed to a trot and wound around Daniel’s legs.

“Oh, that pest!” Sylvia lunged for it.

Daniel bent down and picked it up. He handed the bottle to Sylvia. He stroked the cat’s fur as he walked back to the door. “
Mi gato bonito
.” He murmured as if he actually liked the fur ball. He set it on the porch and gave it a gentle shove then stepped back inside.

His focus slid around the oversized vases with their exotic dried grasses that had cost Sylvia a fortune. He looked up the stairs. “Very nice.” Whether he meant the house or her didn’t much matter. He wasn’t here for words.

Clever Sylvia hadn’t wasted any time seducing Daniel three years earlier when she started at the Trust. The complicated twists of who used whom
—
between Daniel and his environmental sensibilities, Eduardo with his eyes on a most lucrative venture
,
and Sylvia with the expertise to pull it off
—
landed Sylvia at the Trust with a multimillion
-
dollar budget funded almost entirely by the Cubrero fortune.

Daniel believed she researched climate change and he’d convinced his father to donate enormous funds. Eduardo knew he was paying for something entirely different than global warming research and that Sylvia and Daniel were colleagues, nothing more.
Sylvia played one side against the other, hedging bets with her
body and her brain. Why not? She had the skills.

Catering to Daniel’s desires had more benefits than as simpl
e
insurance against Eduardo. “I have a fire in the living room. Why don’t we enjoy our drinks in there?”

He inclined his head, willing to let the evening unfold as it
would. He chose a sofa in the glow of the fire. Sylvia
knew she
would look irresistible in the dim light.

After she’d poured the cognac into the snifters and settled next to him on the imported white leather sofa, she said, “I regret our harsh words yesterday. I know you provided me with the lawyer and you did your best. Please, can we forget our tif
f ?
”

He reached out and trailed a long, slender finger along her jaw. “I don’t wish to fight you.”

She made her eyes smolder with desire. “We fit together so well. It’s as if we recognize that spark that makes us different from other
people
.”

He leaned closer and the scent of warm skin and subtle spice of his cologne wafted around her, spreading moisture between her thighs. “Let me show you how we fit together.”

She unfolded herself from the sofa and held her hand out to him. He took it and stood. She led him from the room. “Let’s discuss this upstairs.”

“Excellent idea.”

He stepped close behind and slipped his arm around her, cupping a breast beneath the silk of her negligee. “We have found another area of agreement, no?”

She swayed her hips climbing the stairs, giving him a preview of what would follow. They ambled down the long hall to her bedroom. It might be her favorite room in the house, decorated in black and white with splashes of red. The duvet highlighted the room with massive scarlet orchids covering the white satin.

She pushed him gently onto the bed and stepped back. His body settled on the giant four poster she’d found at a Sotheby’s auction. She slipped her feet from the delicate mules. One spaghetti strap slid from her shoulders as she stared into his hungry eyes.

He rose and pulled the other strap down, letting the silky fabric puddle around her ankles. He paused for only a moment. She found men loved to gaze on her exquisite beauty. He pulled her to him, bending to kiss and nip at her breasts.

Like most men she’d allowed to touch her,
Daniel
relished her physical artistry and she enjoyed his worship. It didn’t take him but a moment to shed his clothes and lay her back on the bed. Sylvia went into her routine. What man could resist her?

She let him climb on her, wild in his desire. She’d learned to moan in the right places and move beneath him in a way that excited him. After an appropriate interval, she increased the volume and frequency and raw tones of her moans, faked her orgasm
,
and let him finish his own journey.

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy sex. All the foreplay and excitement of watching her partner get aroused created a deep pleasure in her. But the final act, the sweating body and heaving need, the squirt
—
all seemed sordid. There was a point
when men quit seeing her as a priceless work of art and sought their own release
—it
made it impossible for her to climax. She’d take care of that later, alone in her masterpiece of a bed.

Daniel rolled off. “You were right,
querida
. We have a special connection.”

She watched as his fingers traced her
areola
.

She toyed with the black hair on his chest, enjoying the steady beat of his heart beneath well-formed pecs. It thrilled her that she’d had both father and son as lovers. “What kept you busy all day?”

He raised his jet black eyebrows. “I was at the Trust being a dutiful trustee and keeping an eye on Nora Abbott.”

Sylvia didn’t like the idea of him spending time anywhere near that troublemaker. “Isn’t a nonprofit trust beneath your talents?”

“I’m helping out temporarily. The finances are not what they should be. The budget is way over projections. You don’t happen to know anything about that, do you?”

The warmth of their lovemaking dissipated. “I haven’t done anything. Nora said my budget was way over but it shouldn’t be. Darla must have made a mistake.”

He nodded, a quirk of a smile on his face. “Nora will find out, assuredly.”

He obviously suspected Sylvia stole money from the Trust
,
just as Darla had accused her. She could tell by his smirk. “Why are you the one to keep an eye on her, anyway? Mark is there.”

“I find her fascinating. And, as it turns out,” he pulled his head back and studied her
,
“Nora might need protecting. She ended up in the ER this morning.”

So what? Apparently she didn’t die. “That girl can take
care
of herself, believe me.”

He lifted her hand from his chest and sat up. “Perhaps. At any rate I did not come here to discuss Nora.”

She ran the tip of her tongue around his lips with the slightest touch. “I didn’t think you came to discuss anything.”

He grabbed her, kissing her with desire, thrusting his tongue past her lips. He let her go. “I have enjoyed you very much and now I must go.” He rose.

She let the sheet fall just below her satiny breast. “Do you have to leave so soon?”

He dressed quickly, almost as if he couldn’t wait to leave.

Of course she was being sensitive. He’d just made love to her and obviously couldn’t resist the sexual spell she had over him. Maybe he wanted to give her time to recover from her awful experience with the police.

He didn’t turn back before he sauntered out the door and down the stairs.

She waited until the front door clicked shut. Then she rose and showered. She padded down the stairs to finish her glass of cognac in front of the fire.

Her cell phone chirped and she considered not answering. She recognized the number and changed her mind. “How lovely to hear from you, Eduardo. Have you made my deposit?”

He didn’t take the time to hear what she said. “You have murdered the accountant? For money? Are you insane?”

She stood in front of the fire but it wasn’t responsible for the sweat that broke out under her negligee. “I didn’t
—
”

“The police arrested you.”

How did he find out? Did Daniel tell him?
“They brought me in for questioning.”

“And you have involved Danielcito, as I asked you not to do.”

She trembled at the rage in his voice. “I was set up. It was Nora Abbott’s fault
, t
hat conniving little climber.”

“She was not at the Trust when this happened.”

“I can’t explain it. She’s jealous.” Sylvia paced away from the fire. “It’s like at HAARP
.
” Someone always tried to stand in Sylvia’s path to greatness. “Bruce Franklin wanted my job and he spread lies about me. He stole the credit for my work.” Of course she
’d
delegated the more tedious aspects of her job
; t
hat didn’t mean she wasn’t responsible for the work her department accomplished. He’d gone behind her back and got her fired.

“Enough of your jabber
,
carina
.” The endearment sounded like a curse. “I grow impatient.”

“I need more time. And money. If you deposit—
”

“No more money. But in case you need incentive to work, I’ve sent Juan to watch over you. Time is running out.”

“Juan—
”

He severed the connection.

Sylvia ran to the control panel and slapped off the great room lights. She tiptoed to the dining room and snaked her arm around the corner to douse the chandelier.
Then she
ran up the stairs to her bedroom in the dark and slipped to the window facing the street.

A Lincoln Town
C
ar sat on the opposite side of her street one house down, facing her way. She couldn’t see inside the car so could only assume someone named Juan sat there watching her house.

Her hands shook as she dressed in black leggings and turtleneck. She pulled on the black riding boots she’d bought last week.

She wouldn’t tolerate Eduardo’s bullying. She didn’t know where she would go but her Ferrari 430 could outrun a Town
C
ar and she’d lose Juan in a hurry. That would show Eduardo she couldn’t be intimidated.

Sylvia hurried down the stairs, through the kitchen to the garage. Who did he think he was
,
treating her like some kind of minion?

She stomped to the Ferrari and slid inside. With one hand she hit the garage door opener and
with
the other she pressed the start button.

She twisted to view over her shoulder. An unusual lump at the passenger window startled her and she caught her breath. Her eyes focused on it.

Snakes of fear slithered across her skin. A scream of terror built in her gut and exploded with echoes in the small car.

Her foot slipped off the clutch. Her hands flew in spastic flutters and she kept screaming.

The calico cat glared from the passenger window.
Its
glassy eyes glittered in the light from the garage door
,
mouth gaped in a ghastly snarl, the sharp teeth bared and white.
The cat
hung with her neck
trapped
between the top of the window and door. The cat’s blood smeared on the outside of the window and it dripped from her mouth, staining the white leather upholstery.

twenty-three

The key twisted in
the ignition and Nora’s old Jeep fell silent.

Thankfully Abigail had been out somewhere when Nora and Abbey returned home in the early afternoon. Cole had driven her to the Trust to get her Jeep and made her promise she’d stay home all afternoon. But after a shower she’d headed back to the office.

Now she scanned her apartment, dreading another round with Abigail. She wasn’t ready to discuss her father. She needed time and solitude. Instead, she had Abigail.

What a day. The Trust was a crazy place and Nora weighed whether saving the
E
arth was worth sorting through the problems. Okay, maybe working as
F
inance
D
irector didn’t rise to the status of saving the
E
arth.

She didn’t hold with Cole’s conviction
that
Mark had tried to kill her. For all her wild imagination and despite the events in Flagstaff, she believed murder and mayhem occurred in movies and novels, not in real life.

Not usually.

Cold seeped into the Jeep. Much as she’d like to start it up and drive away and not have to deal with Abigail tonight, she could use a bucket of Abbey-love.

A group of students walked by chatting and laughing. They passed under the parking lot light and continued into the night. Nora smiled remembering the feeling of a new fall semester with all the hope and possibilities and freedom of youth. She climbed out of the Jeep and headed to the stairs.

Without warning, her mind flashed to an image of Cole at the hospital this afternoon. Maybe she’d thought of him more than she’d like to admit in the last year. It didn’t matter that sometimes when she saw couples walking hand in hand along Boulder Creek, she’d imagined what it would be like to walk with Cole. But she’d trained herself to shove those sorts of thoughts far away.

She inhaled the crisp fall air. With every step she drilled more determination into her brain. She would not discuss her father with Abigail tonight. Nora was bound to say something hurtful. She needed to process it on her time, whenever that might be.

I will be nice to Abigail.

She opened the door and stepped from the chill into a cozy apartment. In that tuned-in way of dogs, Abbey already stood by the door, tail wagging, tongue lolling, smile ready. Of course, in
this
micro-apartment, Abbey would only have to hear her hand on the door knob to get up from his bed under the corn plants and meet her at the front door.

Nora dropped her bag and squatted next to him, burying her face in his fur. “How’re you doin’?”

Abigail’s voice cut through Nora’s closed eyes and the haze of comfort coming from Abbey. She stood in the galley kitchen
,
which opened into the four
-
foot
-square
entry area. “I’m so glad you didn’t work any later. Dinner would have been spoiled.”

Nora realized she’d been inhaling a savory aroma, just like a real dinner. Meat with onions and garlic undertones
,
and bread. Bread? Man, it smelled wonderful

Who thought she’d be hungry after her terrible morning in the ER, but her stomach growled. Guess she was emptied out pretty thoroughly. “You cooked dinner? That’s great. I’m starving.”

Nora surveyed the small dining room table. Instead of the colorful Mexican placemats and bright Fiestaware Nora furnished for herself, a white lace cloth draped over the table. Two places set with china sporting a sweet rose pattern. Wine glasses and candles added to the decidedly un-Nora table.

Forcing her lips into what she hoped passed for a smile of pleased surprise, Nora said, “Very nice, Mother. You really went all out.”

Abigail picked up Nora’s bag and thrust it onto a hook. “You only ha
d
those garish dishes. I thought you needed something more formal so I bought you a set of china and some stemware.”

Abigail couldn’t afford this. Neither could Nora. “I don’t do much entertaining. Maybe we can box it up before we use it and take it back.”

Abigail frowned. “You’ll thank me. Believe me, you’ll use these more than you think. Besides, I didn’t spend a fortune. I bought all of this at the outlet mall. Of course it’s not Wedgwood.”

Hold the snark. She’s only trying to be nice.

Abigail threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin. “
‘
Life is made more full by the simple joy of beauty. The red of the rose, the kiss of a lover.
’
”

Nora struggled with a response
.
“Is that something you wrote?”

Abigail pulled the cherub notebook from her pocket. “I just thought of it. When you tune your subconscious to poetry, it springs forth.” She paused. “Oh, that’s good
too.
”

Poetry and spending. Her mother’s talents never ceased.
Be nice, be nice, be nice.
“So what’s for dinner?”

Abigail beamed. “We’ll start with a butternut squash soup. The entrée is pork tenderloin medallions with garlic mashed potatoes and steamed green beans almandine, followed by apple pie.”

Nora noted the clean kitchen. “You slaved all day on this?”

Abigail laughed. “That wonderful deli just off Broadway closed since I lived here. But I Googled around on my phone and found a great new place. I sampled them at lunch yesterday and they’re excellent.”

Dollar figures rolled in front of Nora’s eyes like cherries and oranges on a slot machine. New dishes, stemware, and now a catered dinner for two. Nora bit down on the lecture forcing itself from her lips. Tomorrow. She’d sit Abigail down and explain about budgets and frugality and living within her means
—again
.

With a nod of satisfaction, Abigail stepped back. “It’s been a long day and I’ve got a novel I’m dying to sink into.” She yawned. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait. What?”

“Good night.”

Nora spun around, fighting the rising horror of what she suspected.

Yep. Cole opened the sliding door and stepped into her mini
living room
from the balcony
.

“Mother!”

Abigail’s back retreated down the hall. “It’s like the china, Nora. You’ll thank me.”

Molten lava of indignation erupted in Nora. “This is asinine. My life is not some clichéd romance novel.”

Abigail paused outside her bedroom door. “
‘
The pages of the novel that is life bursts with the genres of the soul.
’
” She reached into her pocket. “Oh, that’s good.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Nora shouted after the closing door. In the game of stubborn, Abigail had the upper hand. Nora studied Cole standing awkwardly in her apartment. “Hiding on the deck
, huh
? The Queen of Darkness pulled you into her black web of deceit.” Gaa! Now Nora was creating awful poetry
too.

Cole’s eyes twinkled. “I wasn’t hiding, just planning an entrance. Abigail tricked me
too.
She said you asked her to call me because you lost your phone.”

“You weren’t suspicious?” Nora’s stomach growled. She pulled out a dining chair and sat. The simple cotton napkin revealed another of Abigail’s
supposed
penny-pinching ways. In the old days, the napkin would have been brocaded linen with a monogram.

“Of course I didn’t believe her.” He bent to rub Abbey’s ears. “But when I found out you went back to work after you promised you wouldn’t, I decided to come over. I knew it would annoy you as much as you annoyed me.”

“Very funny.”

He grinned. “You’d never lose your phone.”

“What’s that mean?” She tore off a piece of dinner roll and
popped it into her mouth. Warm and buttery with just enough sweet to set off the yeast. Abigail knew her caterers.

Cole walked to the front door and reached for his down jacket on the hooks. Why hadn’t she noticed it hanging there when she came in? “Come on, Nora. When was the last time you lost anything? I’ll wager you’ve never even had a sock go missing in the dryer. It wouldn’t dare.”

She fought a smile. “Are you saying I’m controlling?”

He stood at the front door, about fifteen feet from Nora. “Well, if Abigail is the Atlantic Ocean, you’re Lake Superior.”

She lifted an eyebrow in question.

“You’re land locked; only want to control your own shores.”

She piled mashed potatoes on her plate, the garlic tickling her nose. “Abigail’s tides are epic.”

He watched her. “I never picked you for a cruel woman.”

She spooned out green beans and slivered almonds. “Huh?”

Cole hadn’t donned his jacket. “I’ve been sitting here for a half
-
hour smelling this gourmet meal and you’re helping yourself while sending a starving man into the wilderness to pick up a greasy burger and fries at the nearest drive-through.”

She served herself some tenderloin and gravy. “I didn’t concoct this romantic farce, but I’m going to end up paying for it. You’re on your own, buddy.”

He addressed Abbey. “Heartless.”

Nora forked in pork and rolled her eyes at the savory goodness. “Let this be a lesson
: d
on’t trust Abigail.”

He surveyed the table. “That’s an awful lot of food.”

She regarded Cole and the table and imagined her empty apartment after he left. But it wouldn’t be empty. Abigail would swoop out of her room and harangue Nora.

Cole might make a good Abigail
b
uffer. “Fine. Come enjoy the bounty of Abigail’s non-existent fortune. But no talking about
…
anything I don’t want to talk about.”

He tossed his jacket back on the hook. “Agreed. So, nice plants. Is that Benny’s corn?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He nodded. “Is that wine I see?”

Nora poured while he seated himself. “This will probably be a bad idea.”

He flapped out his napkin and placed it on his lap, reached for his glass and sipped Cabernet. “Why is that?”

“Because I like you. But I don’t trust you. So the best thing is for me to steer clear of you. I’ve had enough of untrustworthy men in my life.”

He heaped food onto his plate. “Just let me have my last meal. Abigail went to so much trouble.”

“I don’t know why she’s obsessed with you.”

He shrugged. “I think Charlie’s behind it. He’s in love with me. Always has been.”

She laughed and the weight of the day slid off, crashing to the floor and disappearing into dust.

Tomorrow she’d deal with The Abigail Ocean of Control and all the mess at the Trust. For just this one dinner, she’d let herself relax. No Lake Superior, just
the
free
-
flowing Boulder Creek.