“But why? And why did Parker want it?”
“Why did he want it to go to Travis?” Brody repeated. “I have no fucking idea. Why did Parker want it? Well, I hate to say this about one of my senior partners, but damn, Vik, that should be obvious. He knows there’s no way you’ll do with him what he spelled out in that contract, without proprietorship of said contract.”
“Like I said before, I agreed to Stewart’s sick shit because he was able to hold Val over me. I know Marcus and Lyle aren’t through college, but the money is mine. I can pay for their education and continue to fund Harrington Society. What does Parker think he has that will make me agree to the contract?”
“I’m assuming the only way to find out is to hear him out.”
My already knotted stomach tried for another flip. “I don’t want to hear him out today. I don’t want to do any of this today.”
“Vik?” Brody asked, with a hint of anxiety.
“Yes.”
“What did Travis say? Why does he want you to agree to his taking it?”
I laid my head on my pillow and covered my eyes with my arm. I should really close the blinds and allow myself to hide in the dark, away from Parker, Travis, Stewart’s funeral, grieving friends, everything…
“Vik? Are you all right?”
“I’m great,” I replied sarcastically. “Travis said something about business dealings that would come due. He implied that if I thought I could walk away from the agreements Stewart had made with no repercussions, I was…” more pussy than brains. “…dumber than I looked.”
“Well, baby, I think you’re beautiful. I think you look like you’re intelligent and cunning. Shit, I know you are. I know you’re more than Stewart ever gave you credit for.”
I fucking was. I was much more than Stewart gave me credit for. That was painfully obvious as he stared me down, just before I slammed the lid on his urn.
Brody had continued talking. “…he’s done to you. Never think of yourself that way. You’re amazing in bed, but like I keep trying to tell you, it’s not just the idea of fucking you that turns me on. It’s the thought of holding you. The other night… falling asleep. Shit! I know there’s more to that beautiful body than a tight pussy. You’re the whole package. Stewart was the idiot for never realizing that.”
I shook my head. What had Travis said? That what Stewart did was to save me. Save me from whom? What wasn’t Travis telling me?
“Vik? You keep leaving me. Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here. I think it’s all catching up to me. If I scan these papers that Parker left, will you look at them?”
“Of course, I’ll come over and pick them up.”
My arm still over my eyes, I sighed as my head shook from side to side. “No, I need to meet with some people from the funeral home. Kristina and Lisa are making all the arrangements, but I need to finalize and agree to everything. Let me email them to you.”
“Vik, that’s too risky. I’ll stop by.”
“Meet me at the funeral home.”
“I can do that. What time?”
I looked at the clock. “Half past three.” I knew I’d have Travis there, watching my every move. I had to figure out a way to get the papers to Brody without Travis seeing me. First, I’d scan them. Then it hit me.
Thank God for technology!
TWO DAYS LATER and wound tighter than a freaking rubber band on one of those cheap, little propeller planes, I stood at the front of the funeral home and continued my perfect-wife role. I wasn’t sure when the Academy Awards would be calling, but I expected at least a nomination. Somehow it was easier to meet the lustful eyes of the male mourners without Stewart’s whisper in my ear, the one that would ask, “Do you ever wonder if his cock has been in your pussy? Would you want it to be? Maybe he’s never been there, or maybe he’s a friend with an affinity for other uses of his cock?” Then with a brush of his lips against my cheek, he’d add, “Smile, Mrs. Harrington. I just wanted to give you a little something to think about.
I pushed those thoughts away and concentrated on the present. I couldn’t think about his cruel words and pretend to be mournful at the same time. Besides, even those memories were clouded with Travis’ revelations. Stewart had saved me? That seemed preposterous. I mean, I’d been there all along. When had he ever saved me? Well, other than from Travis. And now Travis wanted me to believe that the men from the warehouse and others I’d never met, or perhaps met, but never intimately, were calling for the final bid on Stewart’s deals.
Each person who shook my hand or offered a sympathetic hug was suspect. With each contact I did what I’d learned to do. I closed my eyes and inhaled.
It wasn’t that I wanted to know. I didn’t. But as much as I wanted this to be over, until I came face to face with the truth, I knew it wouldn’t be. It never could be. I steeled my shoulders, fixed my façade, and faced the next person. When I gazed upward, it seemed as though the line went on forever.
As each and every person sighed and gave me their heartfelt condolences, I stared into their eyes, judging their sincerity. I knew that life would be better without the great Stewart Harrington, but did they? Were they outside his realm and saw him as the world did, as I may have for a brief time? Or were their words as much of an act as mine? Did they truly know him for the cruel, manipulating bastard whom I had the unfortunate displeasure of knowing and being married to for over ten years?