Chapter 28
JOSEPH
Acold shower and a change of clothes, along with a stiff shot of bourbon, has restored my calm.
What happened back in the attic room surprised me, but didn’t shock me.
Feeding off Tiffany’s innocence helped keep the demons away, and for a brief second, I was free before they returned with a vengeance.
As I wait for her to join me, my thoughts turn to our guest of honor, and I wonder if he has something in return for me.
Spencer strides into the room and closes the door. As he heads to my side, I wonder what he has discovered.
“Your brothers are in a good position, waiting for you to say the word. Their business is concluded. They have fulfilled their terms of the mission.”
“I see.”
Part of me pities them. They were as averse to this as I am, and I wonder if they were as lucky as I appear to have been because Tiffany has proven to be a rare surprise.
I’m impatient for her to join me, and Spencer adds, “I also had word that your mother has left the Hamptons and is currently on the jet heading this way.”
That is news, and I say nothing as he lowers his voice. “The only explanation I was given is that she misses shopping in London. She arrives in the early hours but has decided to stay at their suite at the Lancaster.”
I’m good with that. Entertaining mom as well as manipulating this situation would be an unwelcome drain on my attention.
“Send flowers and an invitation to dinner tomorrow at the Savoy. Make it for three people.”
Spencer nods, and as he leaves, I swirl the alcohol in my glass and curse my bad luck.
Mom is in town, which spells trouble for me, and as much as I love her with all of my heart, she will distract me from the reason I’m in this mess.
Plus, my guards will offer her protection, despite the fact that she travels with a small army of her own.
I wonder why she is really here because shopping was never Mom’s thing, anyway.
Tiffany hovers by the door, and I lift my eyes to stare at a ravishing beauty.
Her hair is long, dusting her shoulders, freshly washed and gleaming in the light. Her green eyes sparkle and her once swollen lips painted red, matching the figure-hugging dress that shimmers as she walks on the black and red heels of Louboutin.
As she approaches, she appears slightly bashful, which is adorable and I set the glass down and reach inside my pocket, withdrawing a velvet box. I move to her side, reaching for her hand, pulling her gently toward me, the fire in the grate flickering and dancing a happy jig.
“Joseph?”
Her lips question, but her eyes sparkle, and as I open the box, she stares in amazement at the solitaire diamond surrounded by equally impressive ones. It’s a statement, an offering of wealth, status and intent.
The ring lights up the room, and I take her left hand and slide it onto her finger, the perfect fit courtesy of Mrs. Harrington playing detective.
I say nothing, merely concentrating my attention on her, only lifting her hand to kiss the ring on her finger.
My ring on her finger, and as I grip her hand hard, I say huskily, “A little late but a necessary addition.”
She swallows as she gazes at the ring, and from her expression, she’s in two minds about this.
“It’s, um, well, beautiful.”
“But you don’t like it.”
She shakes her head. “I like it, who wouldn’t, but–”
I hold her hand tighter, and she drags in her bottom lip and says softly, “It’s lovely. Thank you.”
Disappointment flares in her eyes, and I take a step back, unsure why it bothers me. Luckily, Mrs. Harrington appears and says formally, “Mr. and Mrs. Karim.”
The air changes in the room as Malik and Eliza Karim enter it. His dark, brooding presence threatening to replace any oxygen in the room with toxicity.
His dark gaze burns, and his attitude is enigmatic and yet his wife is the opposite of that, as she smiles sweetly.
“Joseph.”
Malik grips my hand, his dark black suit almost a replica of mine. He turns to Tiffany and nods respectfully.
“Mrs. Ravera.”
“Please call me Tiffany.”
Her sunny smile chases the clouds away, and she smiles at Eliza, stepping forward and hugging her lightly.
“It’s so lovely to see you again. Thank you for coming.”
The two women are easy company; their men not so much.
As Tiffany drags Eliza over to the couch, I gesture for Malik to follow me to the corner of the room where the small bar holds a huge choice of alcoholic beverages.
I lower my voice.
“I’m hoping my part of the deal was honored.”
He nods, a satisfied smirk on his lips. “The appointment has been scheduled for tomorrow. It’s a start at least.”
“He is not an easy man to manipulate.”
I feel I need to warn him about that and Malik shrugs.
“I have a few ideas, ones that he may decide are worthy of his investment in our joint venture.”
I have no doubt that this man has heat on the Pope himself, and I relax a little knowing my part has ended—for now, anyway.
He accepts the glass of whiskey and says casually, “In return, I possess information concerning the keys.”
My breath stills as I maintain my blank expression, and his eyes flick past me to where our wives are deep in conversation.
“I merely have information regarding them, not their whereabouts or what they unlock. What I can tell you is that until the terms of Enrico’s will are carried out to the letter, the locks will remain undetected.”
“Do you know who has the keys?”
He shakes his head. “No, but I’m aware of the conditions of their use.”
“How?”
I’m curious, and his sinister smirk tells me I’ll remain unenlightened.
“Enrico was a shrewd businessman and a slippery one, too. He was a great poker player and always prided himself on being four steps ahead of his opponents. It’s how he saw everyone; they were merely pawns in his game.
He would have been well aware of Morgan’s intentions and sought to counteract any move she may make before she had even decided what it was. ”
I listen intently because Malik must never be underestimated, and he says in his Middle Eastern drawl, “When he set up the trust funds as collateral against his company, he sent it overseas. There is a company who specializes in this, and discreet is their middle name. I have it on good authority that they are holding his secrets, and only when the terms of the will are met in their entirety, will the daughters be contacted.”
“And if they don’t fulfill the terms?”
“Then the inheritance returns to Enrico’s estate and will be used to pay off his debts, and the surplus, if any, goes to the executor.”
“Morgan.”
He nods. “It appears so.”
My mind is buzzing because we are up against a dead end. On the one hand, we control the sisters. They are married and hopefully pregnant by now. It may take longer; it could take several years, but time is on our side.
It’s not guaranteed, though, and yet without the keys, we will gain no access to the secrets they unlock, which means it’s imperative we locate them and fast.
He says thoughtfully, “You asked about the keys. I believed them to be with the sisters. Am I wrong?”
“It appears that Sister Agatha Maria of the Order of the Holy Mother of God took it upon herself to give them to an unknown woman. Unknown to us, of course, but not, as I suspect, to her.”
“Then ask her.”
He shrugs as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, and yet he does have a point.
He slams the drink back, and as I refill his glass, I fix two glasses of champagne for the ladies, and as he takes one to his wife, I do the same.