9. Lucy
Lucy
K ennedy looks like she’s going to lose her mind. “Let me get this straight. You had me cover for you so you could sneak out to your future husband’s club? And then you two had kinky sex?—”
“It wasn’t that kinky,” I say, covering my face with a pillow.
“He zip-tied your hands behind your back, gave you a safe word, then used your face like?—”
“Okay! Okay! I really, really regret telling you all that.” I peek at her, smiling sheepishly. “Can we just pretend like I never mentioned it?”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, yeah, sure, I’ll just act like you never told me you got face-fucked by a mafia Don.”
“Kennedy!”
“But what’s really bugging me is the stuff about this Gray Wolf organization.” She paces across my room, frowning down at the floor. “Adriano doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would overreact to something, right?”
“I agree.” I stretch my legs, lounging on my suite’s couch near the bay windows. “When he was over here, he seemed pretty pissed.”
“And your grandmother was doing her level best to pretend like she didn’t have a care in the world. Which means she’s stressing.”
“He thinks she’s lying to him.”
“Girl, I don’t think Helena Willing-Morris has ever told the truth about anything in her life. Lying is a given with that old frog.” She glances over sheepishly. “No offense.”
“It’s fine. I know how you feel about her.” And mostly I agree, but I find it hard to say so out loud. “What can we do about it, though?”
Kennedy considers. Where I’ve always been the good rule-follower, desperate for approval, my best friend has a wicked streak.
She’s always trying to get me in trouble, mostly out of boredom.
I pretend like I don’t love it, but the truth is, my life would be extremely sad and dull without her around.
“We should break into her office and see what we can find.”
And now I regret every decision I’ve made in my life.
“No, absolutely not.” I sit up straight, waving my hands. “No way in hell am I doing that. Grandmother would kill me. She’d disinherit me! She’d burn my trust fund out of spite.”
Kennedy shakes her head at me. “Come on, think about it. Helena needs you right now. Whatever’s going down with this Demir guy, it must be serious. She’s desperate for your future husband’s money and power. You’re basically untouchable so long as you’re engaged to that guy.”
She’s got a point. Except she’s also insane.
Grandmother’s office is off-limits. She has made it clear over the years that one toe past that threshold means death.
And I think that’s literal murder. Her office is the heart of the Willing-Morris family power, and there’s no way she’d ever let a worthless nothing like me anywhere near that place.
“Sorry, but I can’t. I just can’t do it.”
Kennedy rolls her eyes. “Fine, I’ll go alone then.”
“Wait, no way. She’ll fire you!” I hurry after her as she stalks to the door. “Seriously, Kennedy, we’ll figure this out some other way. Pierre’s home; maybe he knows something?”
“Screw him. Your brother’s just as bad as Helena. You can come if you want, but either way, I’m searching that office.”
Kennedy storms into the hall. I watch her go, feeling desperate and powerless. She’s got that determined look in her eye. I’ve seen it many times over the years, and it means there’s nothing I can say that will change her mind.
If she gets caught alone, I can’t protect her. I might actually lose her forever. I don’t know if she’ll want to still be my friend once we’re not paying her anymore. I have a feeling she’ll leave me the way everyone else has. Once I’m not useful anymore, I’ll be nothing.
But if I go, maybe I can deflect the blame.
“I hate you sometimes, you know that,” I hiss at her when I catch up.
She beams and slips an arm through mine. “Come on, this is fun! Besides, Helena’s getting her hair done, which means we have at least another hour before she’s home. We’ll be in and out, no harm done.”
Grandmother’s office is on the other side of the house. We pass several other staff members, but none pay much attention. They’re used to me and Kennedy moving around the house together, arm in arm, off to cause some harmless trouble somewhere.
Except this is different. This is Grandmother’s office.
We reach the ornate door. Kennedy doesn’t even pause. She wrenches the brass knob and shoves it open, striding inside like she does this all the time.
I stare in after her. Bookshelves line the back wall.
Antiques fill the shelves. The floor is gleaming hardwood with hand-carved colorful inlays.
The ceiling is more shining wood with a chandelier dangling over a massive old desk.
The chairs are rich leather, and the curtains are crushed velvet.
I bet this room hasn’t changed much over the years as successive leaders of the Willing-Morris family have come into power.
“Say what you will about that old lady,” Kennedy says as she starts opening drawers set into a massive antique filing cabinet, “but the broad loves her hard copies.”
“This is so stupid,” I mutter, taking a step inside. “Really, really stupid.”
“Oh, quit complaining and help me.” She waves me over urgently. “There’s, like, a million papers in here, and I don’t think it’s been organized in ages.”
I force myself over to her, grumbling the whole time.
She’s right; the filing cabinet is a total mess.
The folders aren’t labeled, and their contents seem totally random.
Receipts for construction projects are grouped with legal documents.
I skim their contents and move on, looking for anything about Demir Yilmaz or anything on an organization called Gray Wolf.
“Junk, junk, junk,” Kennedy mutters, then she laughs. “Oh my god, it’s a Popular Mechanics magazine from 1973. Why is this thing even in here?”
“Focus,” I tell her, flipping through ancient stock certificates for companies I’ve never heard of and deeds to various properties I didn’t even know we owned.
There are tax returns, correspondence, insurance policies for some of the more important art pieces we keep around the house, all scattered in with random garbage like birth announcements and wedding invites.
There’s a letter apparently to my great-grandfather talking about a fishing trip from fifty years ago.
“This is madness,” Kennedy says after we’ve rifled through half the drawers. “No way we’ll find anything.”
“I don’t get why Grandmother wanted to keep me away from all this. It’s not like I could find something important.”
There’s a creak in the hall. Then a new voice cuts in. “She wanted you to keep away because she knew you’d make the mess even worse.”
I freeze. Kennedy’s face goes pale.
My brother’s standing in the doorway, frowning in at us.
Pierre is a few years older. He’s got a square jaw and rugged good looks. Women were always attracted to him, even when we were younger. Now he’s married and going a bit soft in the middle, though he still keeps up his appearance and always has on expensive, designer clothes.
“This isn’t what it seems,” I say quickly, shoving the filing cabinet closed. “Kennedy was just helping me, uh?—”
Pierre holds up a hand. He glances at my friend. “You can go, Kennedy.”
She gives me a pathetic, searching look, but only shakes her head. “Don’t blame her,” she says quickly. “It was my fault.”
“I know you probably put her up to this, but my sister needs to grow a backbone. You can go, Kennedy. I want to talk to her for a moment.”
“Sorry,” she whispers before hurrying away, eyes downcast.
Pierre gives me an exasperated look once she’s gone. He walks over to the bar cart and pours himself a drink. I stay where I am, hands clasped in front of me, head hanging. I try to look as contrite as I can.
“What’s the scheme this time, little sister? Trying to add a zero to the end of your inheritance? The will’s not even in there, you know.”
“Nothing like that.”
“Well?”
I shift uncomfortably. “I was looking for something about my future husband.”
Pierre hesitates. He lets out a long sigh and takes a drink. “And you thought you’d find it in that old thing? Grandmother keeps the real documents in the safety deposit box, you know.”
Well, damn it, I didn’t even know we had one of those. But I probably should have assumed.
“Please don’t get Kennedy in trouble,” I say quickly. “You know how she is.”
“That one cares about you a little too much.” He crosses his arms, resting his glass on his opposite elbow. “Tell me why I shouldn’t rat you out.”
“Because—” I wave my hands in the air. “I’m the one marrying a stranger. Can you really blame me for all this?”
“Come on, Lucille. It really isn’t the end of the world.”
“Easy for you to say. You got to pick your wife.”
He snorts and looks toward the windows. “Cute you think that.”
“But you weren’t arranged, were you?”
“When I turned sixteen, Grandmother brought me a list with fifty family names on it. In no uncertain terms, she told me that I may marry a girl from that list. She also said that if I got a girl pregnant who wasn’t on the list, she’d castrate me and kick me out of the family.
” He laughs lightly, shaking his head. “I think she meant it too.”
“I had no clue,” I admit, feeling a little guilty, but he’d never talked about this before. I knew Pierre was under an immense amount of pressure to keep the family afloat financially; I just didn’t realize that extended to his personal life too.
“It’s not something we talk about.” He turns back to me, stern now. “I accepted Grandmother’s terms. I did what was best for the family, even if it wasn’t in my personal best interests. Just in the way you are going to drop whatever this childish nonsense is.” He gestures vaguely at the cabinet.
I rub my hands together. I’m tempted to tell him about Demir, but what if he already knows? He’ll only tell me to let it go and might tell Grandmother that I was poking around about that name.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say, hedging a bit.
“I am right.” He sips his drink. “Your wedding is soon. You will behave in the meantime, Lucille. No more trouble. No more whatever you and Kennedy have cooking. I won’t mention this to Grandmother if you swear you’ll behave.
” He tilts his head and even manages to smile a bit.
“Do that for me, will you, kiddo? Be good, marry that Adriano character, and help the whole family out. Can you do that?”
I pull into myself. I despise the idea of letting my brother down. Even if he’s always been distant and difficult, he hasn’t been nearly as bad as Grandmother. There have even been a few good times where I thought we might grow close. We never did, but still.
Now could be my chance.
Besides, what can I do about this Demir stuff?
I’m marrying Adriano either way.
“I can do that,” I say contritely. “No more trouble.”
“That’s it. I know you have it in you.” He walks over and gives me a quick pat on the arm. “Go on, I’ll keep my mouth shut. You just hang tight until your wedding day.”
Pierre ushers me out, beaming the whole time, while a part of me withers and falls dormant. Going quiet again.