39. Chapter 39
Lili
“I should be at the press conference.”
“Out of the question,” Victor growls.
News broke of Phineas’s body being found two hours ago, and Miranda Brandt is preparing for a press conference to address the ongoing investigation into her son and by extension her and her time as mayor.
“She’s my mother-in-law, and I still have my own reputation to think about.”
“People know you were planning to file for divorce. Won’t it be weird for you to look like the grieving widow?”
I laugh loud and sharp. “Who said anything about grieving? I will be stoic at best. But I don’t want to lose every single contact I have now that he’s gone. I’d like to be able to continue my charity work when all the dust settles.”
Victor looks at the ceiling and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine. But you’re not answering any questions. That’s too dangerous. You’re the one who fucking killed him.”
“And there isn’t a single person on the planet who thinks I did it, Vic. You did your job, and Russians are taking the fall.”
He grunts as if he doesn’t want to admit I’m right.
“If you’re going, we should get you over there,” Hunter Novak says.
We’re sitting in his office for a strategy session after Phineas’s body was discovered and a federal investigation triggered. It’s what everyone wanted to have happen except for Victor who wanted to just make the body disappear and have everyone wonder what happened.
Victor stands and holds his hand out to me. “Let’s go before I change my mind,” he grumbles.
I give him a tender smile and brush hair out of his face. “Thank you for trusting me with this. I know how hard it is for you.”
Miranda’s eyes are cold when I approach the small group in the green room at City Hall where the press conference is going to be held.
“It’s really unnecessary for you to be here.”
“I disagree, Miranda. I’m sorry about your son.”
“You mean your husband,” she snaps.
“Sure. Let’s go with that. How’s his assistant? Will she be crying in the front row at the funeral?”
Miranda snorts. “She would have made a better wife anyway.”
“I disagree. My husband is dead, and I need to be with you. It will look better to the public, and you know it.”
Because I’m right, she doesn’t argue, but I can tell she wants to.
We file out into the press room, and Miranda takes the podium to read the prepared statement amending her earlier resignation so that it takes effect immediately due to the death of her son. She also admits to federal charges being filed for election fraud, among other things.
A reporter in the front row asks the first question.
“Mayor Brandt, what do you have to say about the rumors that your son’s body was found in North Las Vegas on the property of a known Russian criminal?”
Her face goes red, then pale, and she clutches her stomach. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” I guess she wasn’t fully briefed on her son’s cause of death. I momentarily feel bad for the woman.
Her team of handlers immediately step in and shove her away from the podium as the reporter shouts the question again.
“We’ll need to look into these rumors and get back to you," a woman says, adjusting the mic on the podium. At this time, Mayor Brandt will not be taking questions. A statement will be issued regarding her temporary replacement as she fights these ludicrous charges in court, and you should all be ashamed of yourselves for peddling in unsubstantiated rumors while a mother is already grieving the loss of her son.”
And just like that, the press conference is over. People are shouting my name, but I ignore them, following my mother-in-law back into the green room instead.
“Is it true? Was he killed by the Russians?” she whispers, her face still ghost white.
“We’re confirming now, ma’am. But it is starting to appear that way.”
“No!” It’s a scream like I’ve never heard from this woman. Ever. “No! They can’t take my baby!”
She collapses to the floor as her team rushes around her. “This can’t be happening.”
“You!” She points an arm out from under the group trying to help her directly at me. “You fucking harlot. My son is dead because of you. And he was killed by the people who were supposed to protect him. If you had just done your job.”
I storm out at that point. It’s then that I realize the green room door is open, and I don’t give a shit.
She doesn’t deserve to have this moment in private.
Three reporters have rushed to the door and are trying to get microphones and recording equipment in to pick up at least some of the mayor’s meltdown.
“Well, that was exciting,” Hunter says when I reunite with him a few feet away. “Even better than I hoped for.”
“You’re sick.”
“I’m savage when it comes to getting revenge for those I love, Liliana. And since you’re now my wife’s friend, you’re going to find that out a lot quicker. What are your plans now that you’re a widow?”
I sigh and look at the ceiling. “Honestly? I have no idea. I want to stay here, but I feel like I need to leave and sort some feelings out so I don’t get my emotional mess all over Grace and Victor.”
“Taking time for yourself is important, but can I give you a bit of advice?”
I look at him somberly. “Considering I almost got your wife killed, you can give me whatever you want.”
Hunter laughs. “I appreciate that, but I’ve been encouraged by my wife to direct my rage at the people who are actually responsible, not you.”
“She’s a smart lady. What’s your advice?”
“Take the time you need, but don’t shut them out.
Communicate that and don’t be surprised when they want you back sooner than you feel ready.
I can tell how much they care about you, and I don’t want you to abandon a good thing just because you’re feeling messy.
Life is messy Liliana. Extremely so. And when you find people willing to put up with your mess that’s something you shouldn’t let go of. ”
“Sound advice. I’ll do my best to keep that in mind.”
By the time I arrive back at the club, Victor has packed our things into the trunk of his car, and he and Grace are waiting to take me home to his house.
I sit in the backseat and am quiet for the hour-long drive. Mercifully, Grace and Victor don’t push me to say anything. Instead, Grace leans forward and turns the radio on, then slips her hand into Victor’s.
I press my head against the cool glass and close my eyes, letting silent tears fall. When we arrive at the house, I remain silent as I carry my suitcase up to my room.
There, I pack up my meager belongings, then I pull out the cellphone that had been in the purse I left in the Pink Sapphire the night I met Victor—Hunter returned it to me a few days ago—and searched for a flight to Rhode Island. I found one leaving at midnight tonight.
That gave me eight hours to say goodbye and get to the airport.
Grace
Victor disappears into his office when we get home, and I can tell Lili isn’t ready to talk, so I let her retreat into her room while I curl up on the couch downstairs and read a book.
My cellphone rings, and I hesitate when I see the name on the screen. Blowing out a long breath, I press Answer and lift it to my ear.
“Hello, Mrs. Novak.”
“Please, call me Trinity. How are you, Grace?”
I rest my book on the arm of the couch and sit up a little straighter. “I’m better now that I’m home with Victor and Lili. How are you?”
“Feeling the same way about being back in my own home. I’m calling to ask you a favor. A pretty big one.”
“I’m listening.” What could she possibly need from me? My curiosity is through the roof as I wait for her to speak.
“I hear that you’ve got a book that’s almost finished. I was wondering if you might let me help you get it published.”
My brain short circuits for a moment and I don’t respond right away.
“Grace? Did I lose you?” Trinity says after a long silence.
“I… No. I’m here. How is you helping me get my book published a favor to you?”
Her melodic laughter relaxes my shoulders a fraction, and I lean back against the couch again.
“I’ve been wanting to get into a new industry. This wouldn’t be me micromanaging you or even having much of a stake in your business. The favor would be in letting me experiment on you. I have a lot of ideas and a lot of contacts.”
“Wow, Trinity. This is a big deal. Why me? You’ve never read my work. It could be terrible.”
I can practically hear that sly smile she gets as she speaks. “It could be, but Liliana tells me you’re quite talented, and something tells me she wouldn’t lie even if she is madly in love with you.”
I sigh. “Lili has a big mouth.”
“Perhaps. But are you interested?”
I glance at the laptop sitting on the coffee table. Am I ready to let others read my work?
“Yes.” I hear myself say before I’ve fully thought it through. “Yes, I’m interested.”
“Excellent,” Trinity exclaims. “Let’s get together next week and have lunch. I’ll invite someone who can get us in touch with the right people. Excuse me, my next appointment is here.”
We end the call and I just stare at the screen.
“Who was that, butterfly?”
I turn to find Victor standing at the bottom of the stairs watching me.
“Trinity Novak,” I say. “She… she wants to help me get my first book published.”
Victor grins and takes long strides to close the distance between us. When he reaches me, he bends down and presses a long kiss to my lips. “Congratulations, Grace. I’m proud of you.”
“So am I.” Victor steps back, and I see Lili coming down the stairs. But she’s carrying a suitcase.
“Going somewhere?” I ask quietly.
“Just for a little while.”
Victor scowls and reaches for her arm as she approaches, pulling her to him.
“What do you mean?”
“I need to think. Make sense of everything that’s happened in the past few weeks. Decide what I want my life to look like now that I’m a widow.”
“You can do that here,” Victor snaps.
Lili puts her hand on his chest and glances at me with a pleading look in her eyes.
“Vic. You know I can’t. I’m fucked up over a lot of things. And I can’t get that all over you and Grace. I’m not saying goodbye forever. Just asking for some space so I can sort things out.”
As much as I don’t want her to leave, I understand what she’s asking for, so I put my hand on Victor’s arm. “She’s right, Sir,” I whisper. “Let her have the space she needs.”
Turning my gaze to Lili, I ask, “When do you leave?”
“I need to be at the airport at ten tonight.”
Victor glances at his watch as his nostrils flare.
“Seven hours. Upstairs. Both of you. Now.”