Chapter v
Beach Thriller
v
She transitioned from Cinderella to Anna Karenina in about a month.
Oops. She and Conrad had been stealing moments together in the guesthouse for weeks, exploring each other on every level.
At least Conrad wasn’t as cold and bureaucratic as Count Vronsky, but he was engaged and soon to be married …
so yeah, it was hard to be the heroine of that story.
But let’s be honest: Fairy tales and romantic comedies deceive us as easily as politicians, selling romantic idealism like it’s a narcotic. Let the girl enjoy her fun. Conrad was unhappy with Elizabeth, and Anna was in love. What could possibly go wrong?
Unfortunately, if it can’t be happily ever after with a fairy godmother and all that jazz, then their story must be a tragedy.
But we get ahead of ourselves, for it wasn’t tragic at the moment.
Anna’s eyes blinked open. Memories of last night flooded back—all the things they did, the ways he had touched her, the words they’d whispered in the dark.
He was hers. She was his. What kind of fool was she to fall in love like this?
He belonged to another. But she had always longed for the type of connection she felt with Conrad.
It passed through flesh and bone all the way to her soul.
She glanced at the bedside table. There was the pencil drawing he made of her last night. He had worked diligently but efficiently, studying Anna with his artist’s eye as he moved the pencil across the page. When he had finished, he showed her the results.
Anna’s breath caught.
“It’s beautiful.” The words were inadequate, but the image was stunning.
Not only was Conrad incredibly talented, but Anna also noted a sensitivity in his handling of line and shadow.
He had even caught an expression she hoped she’d been hiding—a look of vulnerability.
Her hair flowed like a waterfall, her skin appeared smooth and delicate, and her eyes looked as luminous as pearls. Was this how he saw her? Anna blushed.
“Even if I were a thousand times more skilled, I could never truly capture your beauty.”
This morning, sunlight streamed through the open window across from her, gauzy cotton curtains gently billowing in the summer breeze. She knew what she had to do. Be smart. Wake up from this fever dream. She had to go.
But she was held in place by an invisible force. Conrad slept soundly beside her. His soft, gentle breathing was hypnotic, luring her back under the sheets.
He was the anchor and she couldn’t break free. The guesthouse was her castle, and she, the princess, bound by a magic spell—or was it a curse?
A fragrant cinnamon candle flickered on a nearby nightstand, its flame whispering to her, just as it always did during their interludes high up on the bluff, where she had a dreamy view of the sapphire sea. Go. Leave him. You’re only going to get hurt.
But she never left, and the candle flickered on, its warning unheeded.
What would her family say? Anna could easily fill in the blanks. Her sister’s voice rang loud in her guilty conscience: Are you crazy? Have you lost your mind? Do you have a death wish?
No—she had a life wish.
She nestled closer to Conrad, trying to quiet the storm of guilt coursing through her veins. She thought back to their first kiss in the guesthouse. How could something so sweet be so wrong? It was the most natural thing she had done in her life.
She hadn’t planned for a kiss to turn into an affair.
It amazed her how easily she had fallen into the role of the “other woman.” That part took no effort at all.
The real challenge was keeping it a secret.
The guesthouse offered them a refuge: a place for her and Conrad to be together, away from prying eyes.
But she couldn’t hide from her own shame.
She pushed on his shoulder, and his eyes fluttered open.
He blinked, dazed, still basking in the haze of his afterglow.
He had made promises to her when their bodies were entwined, when she was doing things to him that nobody had ever done before.
Would he remember? Would he honor his words? Or was he toying with her emotions?
This wasn’t a game for her. She wasn’t playing around. Love wasn’t something to trifle with. He should know that broken hearts had incredibly sharp edges.
“Is it morning already?” he asked languidly.
“I need to know,” she replied.
He sat up in bed, and she pressed her body against him. How she loved the feel of his warmth, the way her skin melded with his.
“Need to know what?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her.
Before she responded, Anna allowed herself a moment to envision their life together.
She imagined herself as an elementary school teacher, while Conrad gave up real estate to pursue art and philanthropy.
They would attend gallery events and support important community causes.
At last she would be at the Barefoot Beach Ball without shoes, Maeve being inexplicably accepting of their love.
They would have children, a big family, and live at this incredible estate.
“Conrad, I need to know that you mean it—that you’ll call off the wedding.” God, Anna chided herself. Talk about a mood breaker.
Conrad cleared his throat as if he were about to make a speech—or maybe crush her soul. “I will, but it’s … delicate.”
She cupped her hand over his chest. “Delicate is a flower or a porcelain vase. But I’m a woman, and so is Elizabeth. We deserve to be treated with respect. I know it will be difficult, but you need to confront this … unless what you told me isn’t true.” Anna’s chest tightened.
Conrad took her hand, kissing her knuckles. “I promise I’m going to call off the wedding.”
She searched his eyes, looking for any hint of deception. Instead, she saw the depth of his love. She could get lost in that gaze, but he had more to say.
“I don’t want to marry Elizabeth. But my family won’t accept this easily. They’ll say I simply have a case of the nerves. I promise I’ll take care of it. It just won’t happen overnight.”
Anna sighed. How could this ever work? His family’s refusal to accept his decision meant they wouldn’t accept her, either.
She needed to walk away from this, not just for herself, but for Conrad.
It was the right thing to do. But he leaned in, lips caressing hers, and she allowed his touch to soothe her.
She responded, kissing him fervently. This time, her lips traveled down his neck, his chest. Her fingertips traced his inner thigh.
She felt his muscles stiffen and his breath catch.
He was brimming with need as she used her lips, her tongue, to bring him pleasure.
Afterward, she lay in his arms, and he pressed his lips against the top of her head, inhaling the honey-tinged scent of her shampoo. “This is what I want, more than anything,” he whispered.
Anna basked in the relief that washed over her. They didn’t need a castle. All they needed was each other.
But her mind wasn’t completely at ease. “I’m worried someone is going to get hurt.”
Conrad lifted her chin, looking her in the eyes. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ll be hurt—if you leave me. I love you, Anna. From the moment I saw you at the fountain, I knew you were my destiny.”
What a line. What a completely, unabashedly shameless line.
And she believed it with all her heart.
Anna wiped her brow, noticing dirt on the back of her hand.
What a harsh reality shift. An hour ago, Conrad had held her naked in his arms, the bedsheet twisted between her legs and her body bathed in sweat and sea air.
Now she was hauling old furniture up from a dusty storage area in the basement with a new hire named Krystal, who had recently joined Team Carmichael—poor thing.
They lugged the furniture into the library like pro movers. Anna’s back ached.
Elizabeth was there with her father. Baxter didn’t bother to greet the help. They may as well have been invisible. If he wasn’t leering at them, he was looking right through them. They existed only to serve him drinks, pleasure, or preferably both.
Baxter slipped away to another room, but Elizabeth stayed behind. Her breath smelled like gasoline. Whatever she drank, it had to be burning a hole in her liver.
“Be careful.” Elizabeth’s top lip curled as she addressed Anna. “Some of these chairs will be used at the rehearsal dinner. A scratch on one of these antiques could cost more to repair than your combined salaries.” At least Anna now knew how underpaid she was.
“And, Anna, when you’re done, please clean the downstairs bathrooms. The toilets need a good scrubbing. The wedding planner will be here soon, and we can’t have a guest use them in their current condition.”
Elizabeth popped a few breath mints and marched out, a confident sway in her hips. She waved over her shoulder, all but saying, “Bye, bitches!” Then she headed to the dining room to join her father and Maeve as they planned the wedding seating.
The work was tedious, scrubbing layers of grime from antiques using vinegar and water. Anna applied a soft toothbrush to the hard-to-reach crevices, thinking horrible thoughts about Elizabeth and lovely ones about Conrad, both of which would make her Catholic grandmother weep.
Elizabeth had wanted to stick Anna with the most menial labor she could devise. But did she know about the affair, or simply suspect? Either way, Anna was in a precarious position and had to be careful.
Krystal, fair-skinned, slender, with sun-streaked hair in a loose braid, was a diligent worker.
But she was also a thief. Twice Anna had seen her pocket small items: a gold letter opener and a crystal figurine, value unknown.
Yet Anna had no plans to report her. It wasn’t in her nature to be a rat, and as the harlot of this story, she couldn’t claim moral high ground.
At least Krystal took only small, inconsequential things, items Maeve would never miss.
She wasn’t stealing the heir apparent, like Anna was currently doing.
Krystal all but admitted to pawning the stolen loot to pay rent and help support her ailing mother. Anna sympathized, which was partly why she wouldn’t snitch. If Krystal got caught, it would be because of her own carelessness.
Anna left to refill the vinegar bucket, wondering what might be missing when she returned. On her way back, she detoured past the dining room.
She crept quietly across the cold marble floor, lurking outside the doorway. “Oh my gosh, I cannot wait,” Elizabeth squealed. “These flower arrangements are perfect. Labor Day can’t get here fast enough. People magazine will cover it. I have connections.”
Anna’s heart sank. She understood Conrad hadn’t followed through on his promise yet, but the reality of the wedding plans struck a deep chord. Elizabeth was all in on their nuptials, and she was a force to be reckoned with. What if Conrad backed down?
“Elizabeth, darling, the guest list has grown considerably … the cost, dear…”
“Not to worry, Maeve,” Baxter declared with authority. “I have only one daughter, and I won’t let cost get in the way.”
“Oh, good, Daddy,” cooed Elizabeth. “Then you won’t mind that I’ve hired a new wedding planner.”
“New?” said Maeve, surprised. “I thought the woman I found was doing an excellent job.”
“Excellent?” Elizabeth couldn’t have sounded more incredulous if she’d tried. “That woman was dreadful. My god, did you see those tacky napkins she picked out? I would never … Anyway, Daddy, I found someone much better. But she’s based in New York. You’ll fly her out for me, won’t you?”
“Of course, Sugar Bear,” said Baxter. “Anything you want.”
Sugar Bear? Anna suppressed a giggle.
“Good. That settles it,” said Elizabeth, with a clap of delight. “Maeve, you need to let that dreadful planner go today. And speaking of firing—” Elizabeth’s voice dropped.
Anna leaned in, straining to hear. “That new girl you hired? She has to go, too. I hate to tell you this, but she took something from your jewelry case.”
“Are you talking about Krystal? She just started.” Maeve huffed in disappointment.
“No, I mean Anna. You can’t trust that girl. And besides, I swear I constantly smell liquor on her breath. If I were you, Maeve, I’d inventory your diamond earrings—and then call the cops.”
Anna felt rage bubbling inside her. Her face flushed.
How dare Elizabeth accuse her of theft and drinking on the job?
It was Elizabeth’s breath that could have caught fire with a match.
And the police?! Panic, then nausea, swept through her.
Had Krystal sold her out—used her as a scapegoat—or had Elizabeth concocted the whole story?
Either way, Elizabeth had it in for her; it was an argument Anna couldn’t win.
Shaking with anger and dread, Anna hurried to the bathroom. She arrived just in time, dropped to her knees, and emptied what she’d had for breakfast into the toilet, wishing she could purge herself of every awful emotion tearing through her.