Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Caelian
“Your evidence better be convincing,” I snarl. I’ve thrown on a pair of pants and gone with Matteo to my office. Somewhere private for us to talk. “You’ve disrupted the time I was spending with my wife. If your proof isn’t good enough, expect to lose something. We could start with your tongue.”
Matteo’s grown up in the same ruthless world I have. Gruesome threats don’t shake him the way they do most normal individuals. Though that makes it no less true that I’ll follow through with my threat. I won’t hesitate to cut off his tongue should the mood strike me.
He spreads out sheets of paper on my desk and then points at the numbers listed. “See these phone numbers? I began to notice a weird pattern with them when reviewing the phone records for our telecommunications.”
“When have I ever asked you to do so?”
“We’ve realized there’s somebody that’s not clean. You’ve been preoccupied with your wife’s absence. I took it upon myself—”
“I don’t ever remember requesting you take anything upon yourself, Matteo,” I say with a severe, tight-jawed expression on my face. I’m impatient and easily pissed. Matteo has a few more seconds before I dismiss his dramatics altogether.
“You didn’t request it, but I was looking out for you, C. Too many things have been amiss. I’m telling you these phone calls being placed on the landline—they’re fishy. I traced the numbers and guess who they belong to?”
“I’m guessing one of my enemies?”
“Some of your blood. Your cousin, to be exact,” Matteo says.
“Carmelo?!”
“They’ve been in regular contact with him for months, C. See for yourself the number of times somebody dialed out to that number.”
I snatch the top sheet of paper off the desk and skim the number listing. Dates and times are provided for each time the phone number was dialed. Early mornings and late nights being the common thread.
“Who?” I grunt.
“That’s not the only piece of evidence I’ve got. Take a look at what I found on the surveillance camera footage.” Matteo opens up the laptop he’s been clutching and hits play on the video footage that’s already up on the screen.
Grainy black-and-white video begins showing the exterior of the east wing of the house. The terrace area remains untouched under the camera’s eye, barren and silent except for the click of insects. The time stamp on the screen reads as four in the morning.
Sunrise won’t be for another three hours so late into the winter.
For the first few seconds, no one is around. Nothing happens until the glass door creaks open and out emerges a shrouded figure.
Short. Round. Slow. Draped in what appears to be a night robe that almost skims the floor.
The person shuffles across the patio clutching something—an envelope, I realize as I squint my eyes at the screen and make out the shape of it.
As they make it to the other end of the terrace, their face comes further in view.
It becomes impossible to deny who it is caught on camera.
Ms. Poitier.
Tension clenches inside my broad chest. My gaze hardens into a glare. I give no reaction otherwise.
Matteo presses stop on the video footage, giving an uncomfortable clear of his throat. “It’s not what I wanted to find either. Ms. P has been with your family for decades. We were kids around the same time. I still remember her when my pa used to bring me and Enrico over and she’d bring us sweets—”
“Matteo, now’s not the time for a stroll down memory lane. Shut the fuck up.”
“I’ve been keeping an eye on her since I found this out. There’s a lot she’s doing that you’ve got no idea about. Remember those doctors she called over and who tried to perform that treatment you said you didn’t want? She said it was an accident, but was it really?”
“This is a huge accusation. You better be sure you’re correct.”
“The proof’s in the pudding. Look over everything I’ve compiled for yourself.”
“And you had to interrupt me right now to show me this?”
“C, I just uncovered the surveillance footage. I reviewed more than fifty thousand minutes of footage. I thought you should know. Watch how she takes that envelope out into the woods. She returns empty handed! Who and what is she providing to somebody in the woods before the sun’s even up? She’s feeding somebody info!”
We press play to resume the footage. Ms. Poitier glances around the terrace to check if any guards are around, then she shuffles off. She crosses the path leading into the wilderness that surrounds my estate.
A few minutes pass before she returns empty handed.
“I’ll consider what you’ve brought forth,” I say ambiguously.
Matteo’s dismissed with a disgruntled flick of my hand. The evidence he’s brought remains behind.
I close my eyes and urge the sharp, stabbing sensation in my chest to settle down. Now’s not the time to relapse into another episode. Tonight had been a successful night until Matteo had to ruin the moment.
The things he’s discovered are damning if true.
I’ll need to discern for myself, though that won’t come without its own set of challenges.
I’ve known Ms. Poitier since I was a boy.
She’s someone I’ve never questioned the loyalty of and who has been part of my inner circle for so long, I can’t fathom the betrayal.
It would almost be like suffering Nevaeh’s betrayal all over again. Except rather than the woman I’m in love with, it would be the woman who has been more of a mother than the one who birthed me. Is it true that Ms. Poitier has been the one sabotaging me this entire time?
I’ve long suspected someone from my inner circle was foolish enough to be disloyal.
Recent weeks have shown somebody has infiltrated my operation. Situations like Carmelo gaining so much access and the doctors from the Gerber Clinic attempting to perform the experimental treatment I hadn’t signed off on are just some examples.
What possible reason could Ms. Poitier have for keeping constant contact with my father? Who has she been visiting in the late hours of the night? What is it that she’s been carrying in her hands and delivering to someone?
This mystery person who lurks in the sprawling woodland that surrounds my reclusive estate.
Over the next hour I review the evidence Matteo has presented. I replay the security camera footage and comb through the phone records. Sitting back in my desk chair, I rack my brain for other signs I could’ve missed.
Anything is possible. No one can be trusted.
Two common threads of belief I’ve held in the past, though even then I had caveats.
Ms. Poitier might have been one of those. A blind spot that’s left me overlooking things I wouldn’t miss with other people.
This type of deep-level deception fucks with your point of view. It’s insidious and dangerous in nature, which is why if she has betrayed me, she’ll suffer fatal consequences. She’ll quickly learn it’s the worst mistake of her life.
But I’ve got to be certain first. I can’t make any rash decisions before determining the truth.
A gentle tap sounds at my office door. I fully expect for it to be Ms. Poitier as I steeple my fingers and grunt for the person to enter.
The door opens a few inches to allow Nevaeh to slip through.
Mia bella ballerina looks stunning in the matching nightdress and robe she’s wearing.
The lush satin fabric molds to her body, its rosy-pink shade a gorgeous contrast to her dark skin.
Her hair’s been twisted into thick braids like it so often is before bed when she slips on her scarf to preserve the style.
If this had been only just a few hours ago, I would’ve turned her away. But after the new understanding we’ve reached, instead I’m feeling relief.
“Are you coming to bed, Cael?” she asks in a sweet tone that makes me want to drag her into my lap and kiss her. She’s not yet within arm’s reach to do so, so I settle for leaning back in my chair. “You said we would spend the night together. I’m ready to come to your room.”
“Nevi, come closer.” I wait for her to pad around the circumference of my desk and then take hold of her hands.
Her slender fingers lace between my thicker ones as I hold her gaze.
“It’s time it’s your room too. This is your home too.
After Christmas, I thought it was clear it would be. But then… all that’s happened…”
“I won’t be in the other room anymore?”
I draw her toward me ’til she slides into my lap like I’ve wanted. “You’re in my room every night… no matter if we’re mad at each other or not. No matter if I’m home or if I’m out on business. Nevi, I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”
She frowns. “I didn’t expect this to come up again right before bed.”
“I’m bringing it up because I questioned your loyalty. Right from the start I made you feel like an outsider, even if I insisted on making you my wife. But I was too stubborn to realize that by keeping you so distant, you’d never want to be loyal to me. It was always a barrier between us.”
“I’ve wanted to get to know you.”
“And you wanted me to get to know you. More than what’s in my dreams.”
“You have… slowly…” Her frown tips up into a small, soft smile.
“I’ve realized you’ve got a lot more spunk than I thought you did. You’re well-mannered and soft spoken, yes, but you’ve also got a fire inside of you,” I say, cupping her chin and drawing her lips to mine. “My ballerina is smart and brave. She’s not to be underestimated.”
“She’s your wife,” she mumbles.
We kiss again ’til I pull away to admire her face. Something I do more often than is probably normal. A habit of mine after so long dreaming of her. A confirmation that she’s indeed real and not an angel saving me from the brink of death.
“What did Matteo have to tell you?” she asks innocuously after a pause.
I tap my palm against her outer thigh as if to admonish. “Ah, so there it is—my clever ballerina thinking she’s being discreet. You’ve lowered my defenses and then ask for intel. You really are not to be underestimated.”
“I wasn’t trying to get intel.”
But though she insists, I know otherwise. She’s unable to keep the little smirk from spreading on her face.
I’m not mad she’s searching for information. She’s so often been left in the dark. A tactic I’ve used from the moment she moved into my home, but that I’m realizing has been yet another mistake. As my wife and partner, she deserves to know as much as I can tell her without risking her safety.
And she can be the sounding board I may be missing in my life.
“Someone has betrayed me,” I say.
“One of your men?”
“It’s someone I never imagined would. Someone who has had access to just about every facet of my life. Your life too.”
Nevaeh gasps as it hits her, her eyes rounding. “It can’t be Ms…”
I nod. “The evidence is damning.”
“She wouldn’t,” Nevaeh says straightaway. “Ms. P loves you like a son. I’ve only known her a couple months, but I can tell she cares about you deeply, Cael. I don’t believe she would betray you.”
“There’s footage. There are call records. She has been feeding information to my father and the rest of my family.”
Nevaeh’s blinks come slow and drawn out, then she shakes her head insistently. “There’s got to be some other explanation.”
“I would prefer if there were, but it seems to be true.”
“You’re not going to… to…” Nevaeh can’t even bring herself to say what she fears.
She gulps down some air and then claws at my bare chest. Her touch even when in desperation feels gentle and sensuous.
“Cael, you can’t act on impulse. You have to make sure it’s true.
You have to give Ms. P a chance to explain—”
“If she’s putting us in danger—and if she’s responsible for alerting my family about the doctor’s appointment in the city—then I’ll have no choice. I’ll have to eliminate her. What if we found out you were pregnant today and she helped stage a drive by?”
“But we don’t know for sure! Please talk to her first… civilly. Please don’t… don’t hurt her. Cael, you can’t!”
Nevaeh’s voice strains from the sudden onslaught of emotion. She’s on the brink of tears clutching at me, leaning closer so our faces almost touch. I see myself in the reflection of her tears and hear the distress she’s in at the thought of Ms. Poitier being taken out.
It may only be a couple months since Nevaeh has come to live at my estate and we’ve been married, but she’s grown to view Ms. Poitier as a maternal figure too. The older woman’s often bonded with her like a mother would and has gone out of her way on several occasions to look out for Nevaeh.
Several instances I’m certain Nevaeh’s not even aware of.
If not for Ms. Poitier, I would’ve never opened myself up to the possibility I was treating Nevaeh wrong. I would’ve never considered the fact that Nevaeh was a unique woman with her own thoughts and feelings that needed to be considered.
Ms. Poitier has served as something of a marital counselor for us both.
“Alright, Nevi. Breathe, I won’t act just yet,” I say. “I’ll make sure what has been brought to my attention is true.”
“And you’ll talk to her. Please? To get her side of the story?”
I stroke Nevaeh’s cheek in hopes of calming her distress. “Yes, I’ll hear her out. But realize that if she is responsible for what’s happened—and if she’s put you and potentially our baby in danger—then I’ll have no choice.”
Nevaeh’s chin quivers as if she’s about to object again before she thinks better of it. She gives a reluctant nod and then reminds me it’s time for bed. I squeeze her thighs and kiss her lips and do something I rarely do for anyone.
I listen to her.
We get up off my office chair and leave the room curled together as a loving couple. Nevaeh pins herself against my side. I wrap my arms around her shoulders to keep her there. We head to bed relieved we’re a united front again.
Even if in the backs of our minds we’re both wondering the same thing.
How could Ms. P possibly betray us?