Breaking Her (Love is War #2) (43 page)

His wording was off, wrong somehow, but that wasn't what either of us focused on.

"I thought it was proven that Gram had a stroke," said Dante.

Bastian's mouth twisted.
 
"It's complicated.
 
There was extreme trauma to the back of her skull, and the coroner told us this was done post-mortem, meaning she had a stroke, fell, and hit her head, which is on its own suspect, because according to experts, generally you'd fall forward, not backward, so I certainly had some questions.
 
But said coroner has since disappeared.
 
Whether he was buried in the woods for knowing too much or given enough money to retire in Fiji, we have not been able to figure out."

"Adelaide," I breathed, feeling murderous.
 

"That fuckin' cunt," Leo said from the sofa where he was still drunkenly sprawled.
 
"She was ne'er even worth the trouble.
 
Terrble inbed."

"Nice contribution, princess," I told him, because Leo.
 

"You're a fucki—" he began.
 

"No," Dante was shaking his head.
 
"Not fucking happening.
 
Say another word to her, Leo, and see how much I don't have a problem beating your drunken ass."
 

Leo glared at me for that.
 
"She started it."
 

He had a point.
 

Bastian sighed.
 
"Back to the point, I've been chasing that trail since the funeral.
 
Exhaustively.
 
I'd just about given up hope.
 
But then something even better came along."
 
He smiled and there was triumph in it.
 
"I've secured some additional insurance.
 
For both of our issues, ironically enough.
 
It wasn't cheap, but some things are worth paying heavily for."
 
For some reason his eyes were sad and on me as he said it.
 
He cleared his throat, and called out, "Tiffany!"
 

CHAPTER

THIRTY-NINE

"Enemies are so stimulating."

~Katharine Hepburn

The bane of my existence came striding into the room.
 
We shifted to the side automatically.
 
To let her by or just make sure she didn't accidentally touch us, take your pick.
 
Probably both.
     

"What is she doing here?" I asked slowly and with absolute venom.
 

Dante's arm wrapped around me, and he gripped my shoulder firmly.

Preemptively holding me back, of course.
 

Because he knew me.
 

"Hear me out," Bastian said, ever reasonable.
 

I glanced at him.
 
He'd earned at least some of my trust, so even with her in the room, I was willing to let him explain.
 
I nodded my assent.
 

Tiffany seemed particularly pleased with herself.
 
Preening.
 
Yes, that was the word.
 
She was preening as she walked across the room to stand beside Bastian.
 

Her smile grew when she laid her eyes on Dante.
 
"Nice to see you, Dante," she began.
 

I hated the way she looked at him, still with such warm interest.
 
Still with frank infatuation.
 
Even knowing everything had been fake between them, I still wanted to spit at her, to shout in her face, break her nose again.
 

I felt Dante stiffen at my back.
 
"Fuck you, Tiffany,"
he growled back.
   

Well, hell.
 
This was all going to go downhill pretty damn fast if I was supposed to be the calm one here.

Leo started giggling.
 

"Shut up, Leo!"

"Shut up, Leo."
 
Dante and Bastian both said, which almost made me smile.

Leo shut up.
 
For good measure, Bastian took away his drink and made him a cup of black coffee, ordering him to finish it.
   

"But I like it with milk," Leo complained, sounding like a whiny child.
 

"Shut up and drink."
 
Even Bastian was losing patience with him.
   

"Tiffany has kindly agreed to switch sides," Bastian explained when he was finished tending to his father, making it sound like it was the most reasonable topic in the world.
 
"And as she has been very firmly entrenched in Adelaide's camp for many years, and holds many, many of her secrets, this is very good news for us."
 

I glared at her.
 
I just didn't believe it.
 
Not for one second.

"Why?" Dante asked, sounding as suspicious as I felt.
 
"Why would she turn on Adelaide?"
 
He looked at Tiffany.
 
"Why now?
 
After all this time?
 
After all of the
vile
things you've done for her?" Disgust was dripping from every word he addressed at her directly.
     

The look she gave him was filled with vulnerable reproach and even that made me want to do her violence.
 
I was not okay with her looking at him with any personal thing written on her face.
 
She wasn't entitled to
any
of that.

I owned him and she didn't.
 
She fucking didn't.

"Since I was young I thought I would marry you," she told him, sounding sad and sweet, and like she'd fucking rehearsed it.

Dante's arm tightened around me.

Because he knew me.
 

"I was told I would, and I let myself want that, let myself fall for you, always thinking you were my future.
 
You were promised to me."
 

Dante had both arms around me at this point, in a firm hold disguised as an affectionate bear hug.
 
Or maybe it was both.
 

"You're delusional," he told her disdainfully.
 

"Promised to me," she repeated, tears in her eyes.
 
"I was planning our wedding when I was fifteen.
 
I even had the dress picked out.
 
The jewelry.
 
The shoes.
 
Since I can remember, Adelaide promised me I'd be a Durant.
 
You were never supposed to fall in love with her."
 
She pointed an accusing finger at me.
 
"And you certainly weren't supposed to
stay
in love with her.
 
You were promised to me."
   

I was about done with that.
 
I looked at Bastian, whose steady eyes were on me.
 
"Is there a point to this?"
 

"Unfortunately, yes."
 
He sounded resigned.
 
Tired beyond his years.
 
"It is our solution.
 
Continue, Tiffany."
 

She sent him a teary smile.
 
"You can call me Fanny."
 

Barf.
 

He didn't even roll his eyes.
 
"Continue, Fanny."
 

"She promised me this, and I wanted it more than anything.
 
She held it over my head, year after year, scheme after scheme.
 
You wouldn't believe the things I did for her, all for this promise."
 

I was pretty sure we would, but I kept my mouth shut.
 
I just wanted her to finish.
 

"And then it happened.
 
I was engaged to him.
 
But it only lasted six months, and it wasn't even real."
 
Tears were pouring down her face, and silly or not, they were real.
 
"But she told me to be patient, that she'd fix that too.
 
But he wouldn't even kiss me."
 

"I told you then," Dante said with chilling animosity, "and I'll tell you now.
 
I was never attracted to you.
 
Far from it.
 
Kissing you would be like kissing my mother."
 

She flinched but kept talking.
 
"It's only recently that I realized that Adelaide is just keeping me on a string.
 
She can't deliver the things she's promised me.
 
If I want to be a Durant, I need to do it
myself
."
 

I was staring at her, my face stiff, expression filled with hate.
 
I opened my mouth, to say what, I hadn't a clue, something bad, when Bastian spoke.

"Tiffany," he began.

"Fanny," she interrupted.

He merely nodded.
 
"Fanny here knows things about Adelaide that would make your skin crawl.
 
She's been a close confidante for quite some time.
 

"And an accomplice," Dante added.

"Perhaps," Bastian agreed.
 
"But that's beside the point.
 
We have bigger fish to fry.
 
Fanny is a witness, and more, she recorded Adelaide talking about Gram's death and what she says on it is as good as a confession.
 
At the very least, it will forever ruin her reputation.
 
In addition, Fanny has agreed not to testify against either of you in the death of Detective Harris, which is a valuable thing, being that she personally witnessed parts of the crime.
 
It was one of the most damning pieces of evidence Adelaide had on you, that in addition to the pictures taken, the photographer of said pictures," he waved his hand at Tiffany, "was a witness in her pocket."
 

"It won't matter whether she takes Adelaide's side or not," Dante pointed out.
 
"Those pictures say enough.
 
Enough to need an explanation."

"Ah.
 
But there it is.
 
There's no proof at all at this point that Scarlett was involved.
 
They can prove what happened.
 
And where.
 
Everything else is debatable, even with the pictures.
 
All of the DNA has deteriorated by now.
 
Anyone could have done it.

"I doubt that will fly," I said.
 
"She brings those pictures in, they're going to want a culprit, and they won't have to look far beyond me."
 

"Yes.
 
True.
 
But you didn't even live in that trailer at the time, correct?"
 

"Correct," I agreed, staring at him.
 
His attention to detail was kind of scary.
 

"Someone else lived there," he continued.
 
"Correct?"
 

"Yes, but it was just my grandma."
 

He nodded, eyes steady on me.
 
"And we will get to that.
 
Step one is Tiffany's cooperation.
 
And we have it.
 
All she wants is the Durant name."
 

My eyes were on him when I caught it, when I saw what he was getting at.
 
His mouth twisted when he saw he'd gotten his point across.
 
"Yes.
 
Me.
 
I'm a bastard, which she does not prefer, but I've still been allowed to carry the name, and so will she."
     

"No, Bastian," I said, and I couldn't hide my horror or my weakness in the words.
 
It was too much of a sacrifice.
 
It was too unfair.
 

"Yes," he countered.
 
"It's the solution to our problems, and it's better me than Dante.
 
If I had what you had, I would not do this.
 
I'm doing this to save what you have.
 
I'm doing this because I believe in it, even if it's something I can never have for myself."
 

There was such a deep-seated sentimentality to his words.
 
They felt so personal, and a hundred things I'd overlooked clicked into place at once.
 

Bastian had feelings for me.
 
Old and deep ones.
 
He must have for some time, though we hadn't spent any real time together in years, and never without Dante.
 

Dante.
 
So that's where the resentment for his half-brother came from.
 
Not from some family rivalry or Durant snobbery.
 
It was always about me.
 

"I'm so sorry," I said to Bastian, and it had too many meanings for me to ever articulate.
   

"I want you to be happy," he said simply.
 
"I want you to finally get back what was stolen from you."
 

That was impossible, but even so, his sacrifice was significant.
 
Life changing.
 

Unacceptable.

"Don't you feel a little pathetic blackmailing someone into marrying you?" I asked Tiffany.
 

"
Winning
doesn't make me pathetic."
 

Jesus, some people you couldn't even insult.

"No."
 
I was shaking my head.
 
"We can't let you do this."

"You also can't stop me," he said it with resigned bitterness.
 
"This is a part of the solution that cannot be screwed up.
 
Without Tiffany, all of the rest could easily get away from us."