Authors: Jamie K. Schmidt
“She doesn’t know about the dungeon.” Colleen eyed her manicure with a moue of distaste.
“I didn’t think she did. Club Inferno is a well-kept secret.”
“I haven’t decided if I’m going to tell her or not. She’s high-strung about these things normally. I’m not even sure what her state of mind is now.”
Max shifted in his seat. “I’m not good at keeping secrets.”
“Fine. Business as usual, but can you at least escort her around to a few events?”
“Which side of the club?” Max grinned. “What does she look like?”
“Like my baby sister.”
Max held his hands up in surrender. “All right, no need to get all mama tiger on me.”
“If I think she can handle the truth, I’ll let her know about the sex club. But I need you to keep your eye on her and report back to me if there’s something weird going on.”
“You want me to spy for you?”
“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”
“For the right price I won’t.”
They negotiated terms and a fat bonus check that would buy him the fabric he needed to get a sample of his clothing line put together, as well as pay some of his dad’s bills.
The long dirt driveway was hell on her suspension. Mallory almost cracked a tooth going over that last rut. What was her glamorous older sister thinking, building her empire in the sticks of Connecticut? Mallory wouldn’t have been surprised if she hit a moose next. But after her beat-up Chevy crested the last loose gravel hill, her jaw nearly hit the steering wheel. There was a freaking palace in the woods.
How much money did Alfie leave Colleen anyway?
Mallory sighed when she drove up on the flawless asphalt. Her car practically glided up to the gate. A high, stone wall stretched around the perimeter as far as she could see. The sign above the gate spelled out “Couture” in sparkly diamonds.
They couldn’t be real diamonds. Not even Alfie had that much money
.
The guard walked out of the booth, touching his earpiece. He looked like a secret service agent instead of a rent-a-cop.
Rolling down the window, she resisted the urge to give him her license and registration. She took a peek in her rearview mirror. No one had followed her.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, your license plate number isn’t on the approved guest list. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“My name is Mallory Bryant. I’m Colleen’s sister. I’ve been calling all day, but it goes right to voice mail. She either lost her phone and now it’s dead or it’s turned off at the bottom of her purse. I can show you my ID if you need me to.”
When she went for her purse, she saw out of the corner of her eye that his hand had dropped to his sidearm. She put her hands up.
“Whoa! I don’t have anything dangerous in here. Aside from my epi pen. And trust me, I need that more than I need to stab you with it.”
The guard cocked his head at her. Mallory closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. “Look, I’m in trouble and I need to see my sister.”
“Take out your license, slowly.”
She did what he asked and checked the rearview mirror again while he walked back to his guard booth. While she waited, one of the cameras on the gate swung toward her. She resisted the urge to give the peace sign and make duck lips at it. Instead she stared at the elegantly coiffured lawn sculptures. She blinked.
Is that a penis?
Shaking her head, Mallory rubbed the sore spots on her temples. She was definitely losing it. At the sound of the gate opening, she looked up to see the guard waving her through.
“Drive up to the doors and give the valet your keys,” he said, handing her license back.
Mallory looked askance at the fast-food wrappers and the pile of clothes strewn around her car. She had been meaning to clean it out. It didn’t matter. What mattered now was that she was safe, and David would have to get by the Man in Black out there if he wanted to hunt her down.
OMG, that
was
a penis
.
Who has bushes shaped like penises on the front lawn of their palace?
Pulling her car up to the marble arch, she flinched at the sudden figure by her driver’s side door.
It’s only the valet
, she told herself and unlocked the car. She tried to get out with as much grace as she could muster. The effect was spoiled somewhat when she kicked a soda can out onto the pristine blacktop. The valet didn’t even blink.
A man in a crisp, black suit opened the ornate carved doors. They looked hand carved. She did a double take at one of them and nearly cracked her head on the door. Feeling like a klutz and a rube, she slunk into the grand atrium. She’d been on cruise ships that didn’t look this majestic.
“Ms. Bryant will be right with you,” a woman dressed like Nefertiti said.
Mallory all but jumped out of her skin.
How did I miss an Egyptian queen in the lobby?
“Th-thanks,” Mallory stuttered.
The woman gave her a serene smile and glided into the next room.
Mallory sat down in an uncomfortable wrought-iron chair and jiggled her leg to keep from pacing. Before long, the rhythm of heels sauntering on the Italian marble floor announced the arrival of the owner of Couture. When Colleen entered the lobby, Mallory rose to her feet, wiping her hands on her jeans.
As usual, Colleen was glorious. Her long, blond hair was styled to look like that of a vintage movie star. Veronica Lake had been her sister’s idol ever since they found out Disney modeled Jessica Rabbit after her. In fact, Colleen resembled the cartoon more than she did the actress.
They air-kissed each other and if Mallory clung a moment too long, Colleen didn’t comment on it.
“I hope Istvahn didn’t give you too much trouble?” Colleen said, taking her by the arm and guiding her to a wall that showcased a collection of Erté prints.
“Who’s Istvahn?”
Colleen waved her hand over a glorious headdress in one of the giclées and a panel opened, revealing a hidden door.
“Wow,” Mallory whispered when Colleen indicated with an incline of her head to follow her.
“Istvahn let you in.”
“Oh. No, he was fine. Very polite.”
“I take my clients’ security very seriously,” Colleen said. “But he can be a bit unyielding.”
“Are you stripping again?” Mallory said to her as they walked past several men and women in various costumes and stages of undress—the area they were in resembled the backstage of a burlesque musical—and then through another doorway that led into a normal-looking office hallway.
Colleen Bryant arched a perfect eyebrow. Colleen was ten years older than Mallory, but didn’t look it. She still made Mallory feel like a teenager when she gave her that stare, instead of a woman who had braved medical school and survived residency.
“This is a classic Chanel suit. It doesn’t have Velcro seams. Did you come all this way to be insulting?”
“Well, the last time we hung out, I wound up in a jail cell,” Mallory snapped, then flushed with shame. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight. I came here for help and I’m screwing this up because it’s easier to snipe at you than to think.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. You have a right to your own life. I’m not judging.” Mallory pushed the hair out of her eyes. Seeing how polished and perfect her sister looked made her self-conscious. She’d never be as flamboyant as Colleen, but she didn’t have to let her jealousy show. They walked until they got to the corner office. It was decorated with her sister’s erotic style. Mallory tried not to look at the well-hung marble statue in the corner, but …
damn
.
At Colleen’s snort, Mallory tore her eyes away. “Sorry. I was being snotty. I’m on edge.”
“I noticed.” Colleen closed the door behind them. “Have a seat.” She walked over to an antique armoire and opened it. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”
Mallory sank gratefully into a leather couch that faced the glass wall behind her sister’s massive desk. It was a picture-perfect Connecticut autumn. The leaves were just turning gold and fire red. “I never thought I would see the day that you would give up the big city.” At the clink of glasses, Mallory turned to see her sister was pouring two drinks. “Who has a bar in their office?” she said. “What kind of business are you running here?”
“None of yours.” Colleen handed her a tumbler of whiskey. “This location is close enough to New York yet secluded from outsiders. I actually run several businesses from here.”
Mallory took a deep pull of the whiskey before realizing it was only ten in the morning. “They’re all legit, right?” she asked meekly. “The sign outside said ‘Couture.’ You’re doing a clothing line with the money Alfie left you, right? This place looks more like a resort.”
“I’m doing a lot of things with the money Alfie left me. But you didn’t come here to check out my work ethic. You drove in here like your ass was on fire. Why are you scared?” Colleen asked, sitting behind her desk. “And who gave you those bruises?”
“You can see them through my shirt?” Mallory stared at her arms, but her white blouse looked opaque. Her other bruises had faded to an ugly yellow. Maybe in this light, though, they showed. She glanced back at Colleen, who was watching her with narrowed eyes. “How did you know?” Mallory sighed. Why couldn’t her sister be the blond bimbo stereotype?
“I didn’t.”
Mallory closed her eyes. “Damn it.” Apparently, the dumb blonde in the room was
her
.
“It wasn’t hard to figure out. The fact that you came to me—of all people—was a big clue. You flinched when someone slammed a door, and you haven’t stopped biting your nails since you got here.”
Mallory forced her hand down and sat on it. “I need a place to stay. Okay, that’s not the whole truth. I’ve run out of money and I need a place to hide until I can figure out what to do. And this is the last place David would look for me.”
“Yes, yes, it would be,” Colleen said. “He hit you?”
Mallory held up a hand to stop her sister’s outburst before it started. “I broke up with him for good this time. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“He always was a piece of shit.”
“Colleen!”
“When did he start smacking you around?”
“He beat me up the first time when I told him I thought it was over between us.”
“The first time?”
Mallory flinched. “I’m trying to tell you the story.”
Colleen tapped flawless red nails on her desk as she looked at her phone. “You know, I still have some contacts in Vegas. He can cease to be a problem to anyone.”
“No,” Mallory said. “Jeeze, Colleen. I don’t want him dead. I just want him to go away.”
“I can do that too,” she purred.
“No. Look, let me just tell you the rest of it.”
“There’s more?”
Mallory closed her eyes and tried to find some inner strength. Every part of her just wanted to shrug this off, to joke it away. She didn’t want to be this scared person anymore. She wanted her life back, damn it. “I’ve been in a pretty bad place these past few months.”
“I know. Joan called me.”
“She did what?” Mallory stared in disbelief. “Mom said she wouldn’t call you.”
“Joan lies.”
Mallory rolled her eyes at Colleen’s inability to use the word “Mom.”
“Now spill it before I put her on speakerphone.”
Just say it. Just like you rehearsed
.
Shame flooded through Mallory and she couldn’t admit defeat in front of her sister. Mallory had always been the “perfect” one. Colleen had always been the “troublemaker.” She didn’t want to switch roles and she racked her brain to think of a way to shrug it off so she could appear to be normal. Knowing she had issues, Mallory shook her head. “I don’t know where to begin.” She took a sip of her drink. “This stuff is really good.”
“It’s blue label.”
“Do you know how much that costs?” Mallory said. She put the glass down on the desk before she dropped it. She was jittering her leg again and forced herself to stop.
“What caused you to go into hiding for two months?” Colleen slid a woven coaster under the glass.
Mallory blew out another sigh. “David is addicted to drugs.”
“No shit,” Colleen said. “That asshole had so much coke up his nose, if he sneezed it would snow.”
Mallory choked on her laughter. It had been so long since she’d found something funny that the laugh felt forced and rusty. She took another swig of the blue label. It made the rest of the story easier. She told Colleen everything.
“Did you call the police?” Colleen’s voice was flat and as cold as her icy blue eyes.
Mallory shook her head.
“Why the hell not?”
“Because by the time I got my head on straight I thought it was too late.”
“Can you put out a restraining order on him?”
“Sure, but I’d have to go to the courthouse and see all his friends. I think he’ll just make it worse for me.” Mallory threw her arms out in exasperation, reaching up to grab her hair. But instead of pulling it out like she wanted to, she ran her fingers through it, trying to make it fall half as nice as Colleen’s.
“He can try. But I guarantee that he’ll fail,” Colleen swore. “I’ll have him disbarred faster than you can say XTC.”
“I just don’t want a confrontation right now,” Mallory said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I can’t take it.”
“Okay,” Colleen said, leaning back in her desk chair. “I’ll back off. So why did you come
here instead of Aruba or Paris or, heck, Bora-Bora?”
“Joan—I mean Mom—threatened me. Besides, I’m broke. No job and maxed credit cards. I suppose I could have gone to a shelter. A battered women’s shelter.” Mallory cringed. “I just didn’t want to admit that I was one. You know?”
Colleen reached across and held her hand. “I know this must be awful for you. Do you want me to loan you the cash?”
“It’s not that easy. If I just needed money, I’d cash in my retirement account.”
Colleen’s nose crinkled. “The penalties …”
Mallory interrupted her before the lecture started. “I know. Look, I came here because I was afraid David would find me and I would be all alone when he did. I don’t want to be a burden. I’ll trade you my medical skills for room and board. The moment one of your fashion models twists her ankles in her high heels, I’ll have paid for myself.”