Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
A n old man limped into the room, sweat dripping from his temples. Although Warren wore a tailored suit, it was wrinkled, and it hung oddly on his pudgy frame. The years hadn’t been kind to her father’s business partner. He had one patch of hair left on his otherwise bald head, and there was an unhealthy gray pallor to his skin. She’d seen him briefly at the funeral but thankfully hadn’t had to deal with his withering tongue, since there were so many other people to see to.
“Uncle Warren,” she said brightly, making him grimace.
“How many times have I told you not to call me that?” he grumbled.
Countless times, but that wouldn’t stop her doing it. When she was younger, she made the mistake of assuming her father’s companions were somehow related to her. Her father had disabused her of that notion, but she continued to use the label to needle Warren so he wouldn’t speak to her.
“Never thought I’d see you at the Trentham Ball,” he said snidely.
“Me either,” she agreed, refusing to rise to the bait. Warren’s mission in life was to reduce everyone’s confidence to zero, but Tucker and Roth had already done that for him. She had nothing left.
“Maximus must be rolling in his grave tonight.”
She widened her eyes and did an exaggerated pout. “You don’t think he’d be proud of me for getting an invite, or for dancing with Sullivan Trentham?”
Warren’s lip curled. “Trentham’s standards aren’t what they used to be. Roth has no pedigree, but money has a way of making people overlook such details.” He managed to look down his nose at her even though he was shorter than her. “Maximus would be ashamed of you.”
“My father’s dead,” she said flatly. “I don’t live by his rules any longer.”
“I can see that. At least you’ve made yourself useful. Sacrificed yourself to save your sisters from the hole they got themselves into, huh? That’s the least you could do, I guess, after all the trouble you’ve caused. The shock is that Roth would take you back, when he can have his pick of any woman here. I’d get a younger model—one that can still have kids. Then again, he isn’t going to keep you, is he?”
Although her expression was composed, his mouth curved into a malicious smile as if he knew her stomach had iced over.
“Boy knows what he’s doing. Some will do business with him, but not all. He needs an in, and that’s where you come in. Your marriage forced an alliance with Lyle and Rami, and now Trentham has publicly endorsed him, he’ll be unstoppable. He doesn’t have the finesse or polish required for these social settings, but with you laying the groundwork like you did tonight, it doesn’t matter who comes after you.” His gaze slid over her. “Let me guess. He insisted on this dress.”
She twisted her hand in the folds of her gown. How did he know?
“What better revenge is there than dressing the woman who ruined you like a slut, using her father’s reputation to establish yourself, and then casting her aside once you’ve squeezed everything you can out of her? Even I can appreciate the poetic justice in that.”
She felt as if she was being pelted by razor-sharp shards of ice that embedded themselves in her skin like glass splinters.
Warren raised his brows. “No sassy comeback? Hit the nail on the head, didn’t I?”
She willed anyone to walk through the door Warren had left slightly ajar.
“You’re a carbon copy of her,” Warren muttered.
She shouldn’t take the bait. That was what he wanted, but she couldn’t help herself.
“Carbon copy of who?”
“Elena.”
She jerked. “You knew my mother?”
Crusty lips curled in a lecherous smile. “Inside and out.”
She felt a chill of foreboding. “I... I don’t understand.”
“Before she became Maximus’s personal assistant, she worked for me and several others.” His tongue darted out to lick his sweaty upper lip. “That’s not all she did for us.”
She took a reflexive step back. “No.”
He let out a dark chuckle. “We passed her around. Maximus made himself a laughingstock when she trapped him with a baby. He gave her money to abort you. She refused, of course, since that was her aim all along. She made his life hell and used your existence to squeeze as much as she could out of him. He did more for you than I would have. He gave you his name, housed you, and paid for your schooling. He tried to mold you into a lady, but you can’t change bad blood. I warned Ford. He knew what a gold-digging whore your mother was and insisted you were different.” He snickered. “Maximus was one unlucky son of a bitch. At least Colette and Ariana come from good stock and are beautiful to boot, while you...” He let out a wheezing laugh. “You’re the mistake he couldn’t get rid of. Maximus always said you were the worst thing that ever happened to him.”
The blood drained from her face as he thrust his verbal spear straight through her heart. She didn’t move a muscle as he closed the distance between them. He was so close she could smell the tang of his sweat as he reached out and touched the largest blue diamond that made up her necklace.
“What’d you do to earn this? Did he share you? Slap you around? That’s what your mom was into. Probably why Maximus kept her within arm’s reach even though he despised her.”
He held her gaze as he trailed his fingers down her arm. Every fiber of her being recoiled in revulsion, but horror kept her immobilized.
“I’ve always wondered if traits like that pass from mother to daughter,” he mused as he grasped her lifeless hand and raised it between them. He brushed his thumb over the ruby heart ring. “Funny you should wear this tonight. This was the first token Elena ever picked out. I still remember what she did to earn it.” He stared at her with the watery, bloodshot eyes of a starving St. Bernard. “We’ve been waiting patiently for our turn with you. I want the first bite. How much is Roth paying you? If you’re half as good as your mom was, I’d be willing to give you a ton of pretty pieces just like this.”
“That’s enough.”
She was vaguely aware a woman had arrived and was marching toward them. Warren whirled to face the newcomer. Jasmine had no idea what state her face was in, because her world had shattered into a million pieces. Her bare back felt as if she’d taken a dozen lashes. A flash of bronze fabric caught her eye a second before she heard Colette’s voice over the sound of her racing heart.
“How dare you?”
Colette’s furious tone jarred Jasmine out of her daze. Slowly, her eyes moved from Warren to her sister, who was angrier than she’d ever seen her.
Warren took in Colette’s gown with a disapproving leer. “What happened to you? You used to be so proper. Maximus would never allow you to wear something so provocative.”
“I’m an adult, not a child,” Colette snapped. “And what I’m wearing is none of your business. Did you just proposition my sister?”
“We’re all adults here. She can always say no.” He made a throwaway motion. One of his gold rings looked like it was cutting off his circulation. “But if she’s anything like Elena, she’ll spread for anyone in our tax bracket.”
“Shut your mouth, Warren.”
If she had the capability to feel anything, Warren’s incredulous expression would have thrilled her. No one spoke to him like that. He was too powerful to risk offending him. They usually took his barbs without complaint, but Colette looked ready to clobber him with her clutch if he said another word.
“Wha... what did you say to me, girl?”
“I’m not a girl, and you heard me perfectly,” Colette said crisply. “Not another word out of your mouth. Everything you say has always been poison.”
Warren flushed with rage. “Do you really want to go there with me?”
“The real question is, do you want to go there with me ?”
His mouth sagged a little. It took him a moment to close it and even longer to regain his voice. “Are... are you threatening me?”
Colette’s resolved wavered, making her hesitate. Sensing weakness, Warren sneered.
“Do you know what I could do to you?” He took a step toward Colette and glared up at her with a superior look on his face. “You bungled the company, just as I knew you would. I told Maximus he should have put Lyle in charge of it.” He snorted. “Women. They’re only good for one thing. You have no place in the business world.”
“No more,” Colette whispered.
“What did you say?”
Colette straightened and put her shoulders back. “I said , no more.”
“What the hell are you talking about? No more what?”
“No more being afraid. No more insults. I considered you a second father, a mentor, someone to be trusted. Just like Dad, you criticized, lectured, and humiliated me. I thought it was to make me stronger—to teach me a lesson. I should have realized you were grooming me to feel inferior and subservient to you.”
Warren’s expression shifted from outrage to unease. Colette had taken a tack he hadn’t expected, and he was... nervous?
He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
When Colette stepped toward him, Warren backed up before realizing he’d physically and mentally lost ground. He glanced at Jasmine before puffing out his chest.
“I taught you everything you know out of the goodness of my heart,” he blustered.
“I should have told Dad about you,” Colette said quietly.
“Told him what?”
“That you raped me.”
Warren’s head kicked back as if he’d been punched. He gaped at her before looking around the empty room and roaring, “I did not!”
“You did. Many times.”
Colette’s voice was soft and controlled—a sharp contrast to Warren’s indignant tones.
“I should have told him.” Colette’s fingernails scrabbled over her clutch, tearing at the fabric, as she stared at Warren with enraged, glistening eyes. “I should have known Dad would never expect me to submit to any man, even one he considered a friend.”
Warren paled. “I was loyal to Maximus.”
“You’ve never been loyal to anyone in your life. If Dad revealed a weakness, you would have pounced. You were jealous of Dad, because he set the tide while you were left in his whitewash. You needed to be his friend, so you knew what moves to make. You were the enemy masquerading as a friend. I let myself believe you violating me wasn’t a good enough reason to ruin a business relationship, but I am worth it, and Dad would have ripped you apart.”
“No one will believe you,” Warren hissed.
“You think my husband or brothers-in-law will believe you over me?” Colette taunted softly. “Roth’s put quite a few of you in a bind and as you saw this evening, Sullivan is fond of him.” When Warren said nothing, she continued. “If word of this gets out, everyone will start to pull away from you. It doesn’t matter whether it’s true or not, though you and I both know it is. I know I wasn’t the only one and if they start talking...”
“What do you want from me?” he said harshly.
Colette looked at Jasmine, who hadn’t spoken or moved throughout the confrontation. “We made a deal long ago. You just broke our terms.”
He glanced at Jasmine and snarled, “I didn’t even touch her!”
“Just get out of my sight,” Colette ordered. “The damage is already done.”
Warren opened his mouth, closed it, and then shook his head as he hobbled out of the room. When he was gone, Colette slowly approached Jasmine.
“Are you okay?”
Jasmine met her sister’s eye and swallowed bile as she whispered, “He touched you?”
“It was a long time ago.”
Colette looked so cool and collected. How did her sister keep it all in? How did she have the strength to do business with Warren and sit across from him at dinner after what he’d done to her?
“Ariana?”
Colette shook her head. “She doesn’t know. I made him promise not to touch either of you. I did my best to keep him away from others too, when I could.”
Her mind provided graphic images that made her clap a hand over her mouth as her stomach heaved.
“Jasmine?”
She couldn’t answer, because she was going to be sick, and she couldn’t do it in this beautiful room or the corridor lined with priceless artwork. She ran out of the library and down the hallway. Thankfully, the crowd in front of the bathrooms had dispersed. She was in too much of a hurry to read which bathroom was for women. She shouldered through the door on the right and felt a flash of relief when she saw three women in front of the vanity. They turned when she barged in and gasped when she slammed into one of two stalls, fell to her knees, and vomited. The twelve-course meal and champagne came up, making her gag. There was a cacophony of voices before Colette’s rose above everyone else’s. Clammy hands moved over her before Colette gathered her hair and pulled it back.
“Is she pregnant?” she heard an interested voice say. “Is that why they married?”
“Out!” Colette ordered.
“Well, I never,” a huffy voice said before the door slammed and silence fell, allowing Jasmine to be sick in peace.
“I’m sorry.”
Colette’s voice was thick with tears.
“Why are you apologizing?” she said hoarsely as she waited for her stomach to stop pitching and rolling.
“I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that. I should have confronted him somewhere else.”
“Stop worrying about everyone else and think of yourself,” she groaned before she retched again.
When she finished, Colette handed her a wad of toilet paper to wipe her mouth. She sat on the floor until her head stopped spinning. She wished she had the luxury of falling apart, but this ordeal was far from over. She had to get a grip.
Colette helped her to the marble vanity decorated with red and white roses, a pyramid of washcloths, and baskets full of just the type of amenities she needed. As she swilled mouthwash, Colette wet a towel and tried to clean the curls she hadn’t pulled back in time. When she looked in the mirror to assess the damage, she closed her eyes in defeat.
“I can fix it. Here.”
Colette reached into her clutch and pulled out makeup wipes, mascara, and lipstick. She kept her eyes lowered to her sister’s cleavage as Colette fussed over her like she’d always wanted her to. Colette’s hands were shaking like crazy. They silently agreed applying mascara wasn’t worth the risk.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
Colette averted her gaze. “I can’t do this.”
She tried to stifle her rioting emotions for both their sakes. “How did you find us?”
“I was keeping an eye on Warren. I usually do. I saw him go down the hallway. When he didn’t return, I followed. I didn’t know you were in there until I was standing outside and caught the last of what he was saying.” Colette searched her face. “About Elena...”
“Is it true?”
Colette hesitated before murmuring, “Does it matter?”
Which meant yes. She gripped the vanity as the strength went out of her legs. “Dad gave her money to abort me?”
Colette gripped her arm. “Dad loved you.”
“You really are your mother’s daughter.” Maximus had thrown that in her face when he found out about the affair. She hadn’t realized the implication at the time, but... She pressed a hand against her stomach and wondered if she was going to be sick again. Roth had called her a whore. Was it because she’d slept with other men or because he knew that was in her blood? Like mother, like daughter. She hadn’t even known and had followed in Elena’s footsteps anyway...
There was no doubt in her mind Roth had a file on Elena Rogan. He made it his business to know the ins and outs of her family. Did he know her mother wasn’t a personal assistant but a glorified whore her dad and his cronies had passed around? That her father had paid her mother not to have her? Of course he did. She was the last to know, as usual. Did he get the vasectomy because he thought she might try to trap him like her mother trapped Maximus?
“Minnie.” Colette stared at her with concerned eyes. “That’s all in the past. It doesn’t matter.”
Right. It didn’t matter. That was then; this was now. Even as she told herself that, her heart felt as if it were being stabbed over and over. Blood was spurting everywhere, just like her thoughts and emotions. She desperately tried to contain it like Colette. She should be comforting her sister, who’d just confronted her lifelong abuser. No one would know it though. Colette’s face was as still as a glassy lake. Only her eyes showed her inner turmoil. Why couldn’t she turn off her emotions like that? Why was she so weak?
“Should I get Roth?” Colette asked.
“No!” When Colette frowned, she fixed a pained smile on her face. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“Neither are you.”
To her surprise, Colette nodded and brushed a hand against her temple as if she had the beginnings of a migraine. “I’ll find Lyle and tell him we need to go. You should too.”
“Roth has business...”
“I think he can make an exception.” When she shook her head, Colette’s tone changed. “Why not?”
Her sister was too flustered to wonder why she was in the library to begin with.
“Do you want to come home with us?” Colette offered.
It was tempting. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to conduct herself normally after her world had imploded, but it would cause a stir if she left Roth behind.
“No. I’ll find him.”
“And leave,” Colette insisted. “He’ll understand.”
He wouldn’t, but that wasn’t Colette’s problem. She gave her sister a little push. “Go.”
As Colette walked out, she heard the chatter of voices and the strains of the live orchestra before the door closed again. She looked at her reflection in the gilded mirror. She was as pale as death and now wore Colette’s pink gloss instead of the bold red she sported at the beginning of the night. The curls that had once framed her face were now straight and damp. She didn’t have the energy to brush away the wet strands plastered to her cheek. The bright lighting showed hazel eyes dilated with shock. She blinked, trying to wipe away the glassy devastation, but it remained. She eyed her face objectively—a mirror image of her mother. How many of those derisive glances she’d received from her father’s cronies tonight were because they knew she’d sold her body as payment to Roth and were sure they’d get a turn?
There was a hesitant knock on the door. “Is everything okay in there? Can I come in?”
She swallowed before calling, “Yes.”
The door swung open. A woman she hadn’t met gave her a puzzled look.
“They said somebody was ill in here?”
Jasmine bared her teeth in what she hoped was an acceptable smile. “Everything’s fine.”
As the woman nodded and headed to a stall, she took one last look at her wan reflection before heading for the door. This was no time to cry or break down. Later. When she was alone in a dark room, she’d lament the whys of her life, but not now. If rumors spread that she was pregnant on top of everything else, there’d be hell to pay. Would Roth think she started it, so he’d feel pressured to stay married to her?
The women who’d been standing at the vanity when she entered the bathroom in spectacular fashion were sitting on a nearby bench, clearly waiting for her to emerge. They fell silent when she appeared. She didn’t spare them a glance as she swept past. The effort it took to hold her head up and take one step, and then another, was excruciating. She looked down to see if there was a knife sticking out of her gut, but it was just her imagination.
When she reached the ballroom, she searched for Roth. It didn’t take long to find him, since he was one of the tallest men in the room. She started in his direction, moving unsteadily through the crowd. Her surroundings had a hazy, dreamlike quality to it. She wasn’t aware of the music or if anyone called her name. She couldn’t hear anything over the sound of crashing waves in her mind.
The crowd parted, giving her a direct path to Roth. Even amid her turmoil she noticed the woman at his side was standing a little too close. They weren’t touching, but their proximity suggested they were familiar with one another. Were they? It would be in her favor if someone captured his attention. As Warren had pointed out, there were countless beauties for him to choose from, especially in this crowd. There’d always be women hanging on the arms of the rich and powerful, batting their eyelashes in the hopes they could entice and trap...
Women like her mother.
The broad, with her low-cut dress, too-perfect pout, and ample cleavage on display, touched Roth’s arm. He glanced at her. She mouthed something, forcing him to lean down to hear her. He shook his head before straightening and looked back at the man with the handlebar mustache. The woman tried to play off her embarrassment that Roth hadn’t bothered to engage further. Jasmine would have been happy to explain that when it came to business, there was no competition.
“What better revenge is there than dressing the woman who ruined you like a slut, using her father’s reputation to establish yourself, and then casting her aside once you’ve squeezed everything you can out of her? Even I can appreciate the poetic justice in that.”
Roth had admitted he wanted to use her connections and knowledge of society for his benefit. But was he conniving enough to request a revealing dress to capitalize on their notorious affair, her mother’s infamous history, and humiliate her in the process? He claimed he’d changed his mind about punishing her, but… had he?
All emotion leeched out of her, leaving her so empty that hunger pangs knocked around in her stomach. She felt as if she’d been drenched in cold muck. She took a step back and bumped into someone. She heard a man mutter something and said a dull “sorry” but didn’t bother to see who it was.
She should leave. She couldn’t perform when her identity had been stripped to its core. She was just a means to an end for him that he didn’t want to get attached to. That was why he’d killed what was burgeoning between them.
He may have talked her out of her panic attack and stepped between her and Cecil, but he intervened for his own interests. He threatened Cecil because he was interfering with Hennessy & Co. and his comeback wouldn’t be complete without her at his side. The affectionate act he’d put on throughout the evening would disappear the moment the show was over.
Her eyes filled with tears. She was so far gone that one actually trickled down her cheek. Her life was a lie. Fake marriage, fake husband. Absent, resentful father who’d never wanted her and had tried to get rid of her. Despite Maximus’s feelings toward Elena, he’d given her a similar upbringing to her sisters, only to have her cause so much public discourse years later. If Maximus had refused to provide for Elena, would her mother have aborted her? Had no one ever wanted her for herself?
Roth shifted his eyes from Amos Faulkner to her. His brows drew together in a forbidding frown. Another tear slipped down her cheek as sorrow swamped her. She spun away, swiping at her eyes with her sleeve, uncaring if she smeared what was left of her makeup. She had to get out of here before she fell apart and really made an ass of herself. She kept her head down as she made her way to the exit, so no one would see her face.
When a hand gripped her arm and swung her around, she had no doubt who it was.
“What happened?”
“N-nothing.”
Roth cupped her chin and raised her face. She couldn’t see his expression through the tears, but it didn’t take a genius to know he wasn’t pleased she was here instead of the library, where he’d told her to stay. She wrenched her chin out of his grasp and tried to step away, but he hooked an arm around her.
“I’m sorry. I was going to step out for some fresh air,” she said lightly as she dabbed at the tears falling freely now. She pushed at him. Why the hell was he touching her? It was twisting that invisible knife, increasing her pain tenfold.
“Darling, it seems Roth’s wife has had some... mishap,” a nasal voice drawled. “Can you take care of her?”
She went rigid as she realized the people he’d been talking to had followed and were now standing around them in a loose semicircle. She averted her face and strained away from Roth.
“I think his wife needs a refreshment. Or maybe she’s had too many and needs to lie down somewhere.”
The condescending laughter made her flinch, but it was better for them to assume she was drunk than upset.
“I can take care of myself.” Her words tumbled out of her mouth as the pressure inside of her mounted. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. You all should carry on.”
Roth cupped the back of her head and forced her face into his chest in a gesture that felt almost caring. She took a deep breath and gripped handfuls of his jacket as she tried to draw on his strength, as she had when they arrived. But this time, it wasn’t working. She slowly became aware of the chuckles and the awkward throat-clearing.
“You want to hand her off to our wives so we can finish our discussion? They’ll entertain her, maybe sober her up before you head home.”
The insult and the dismissal were obvious. Her arms dropped, but when she tried to step back, Roth didn’t release her.
“I don’t need anyone to see to my wife. We’re done here.”
Roth’s cutting tone made her stiffen. An awkward silence fell.
“Roth,” she in a conciliatory tone, knowing the long-term consequences of this could be dire, and he’d blame her for it. “I’m fine. You should finish your business.”
He slipped his arm over her shoulders, tucked her into his side, and walked away from the group he’d been speaking to.
“You don’t need to do this,” she began.
“Quiet.”
She kept her gaze lowered and watched shiny shoes, heels, and expensive fabrics whip out of their path as people hurried to get out of his way. Roth didn’t stop until a pair of Italian shoes faced off with them. She didn’t have to look up to know who they belonged to.