Insidious
Page 34
I stood as tall as I could, barefooted and naked. “You don’t think that this whole thing hurts me?”
“No,” he answered. “I want to see your pleasure. The only pain you’ll endure is the stimulation to something more pleasurable.” He bent down and kissed me. “Mrs. Harrington, you have my word.”
“Fire him,” I said, when our lips disengaged.
Stewart’s expression blanked.
“I said, fire him. Fire Travis tonight so I never need to see him again.”
Stewart pulled me against his chest. “Darling, Travis has been with me for years. I need him as much as he needs me. He knows too much about too much.” He motioned toward the bed. “Like this. You don’t want him in a position to tell the world about this.”
“I don’t want anyone to be in a position—”
Stewart’s finger covered my lips. “Stop. I’m not firing Travis, but you have my word that he’ll never be a threat, and as for others, know that there will be others. This…” He gestured toward the bed. “…will happen. Therefore, unless you plan to invoke your ability to walk away from this marriage, this conversation is done.”
When I didn’t respond, Stewart asked, “What happened? I thought you were ready.”
I wanted to say that I’d never be ready; instead, I shrugged. “I knew it was him. The way he’s looked at me over the last year has given me the creeps. I just knew it was him, and I couldn’t stand the idea of him touching me. And he was being rough. You’re never…”
Stewart captured my lips with his—kissing, caressing, and calming. “I don’t want to be. I don’t like that. That’s why I need to know that you’re doing this willingly, to make me happy.”
It was such a fucking lie. My emotions couldn’t keep up. I loathed his existence, yet he was my savior. What would have happened if he hadn’t stepped in? What would Travis have done? Eying the blood beneath my nails, I knew that whatever it was, I wouldn’t have taken it lightly.
The ringing of my phone brought me back to present. I was still in my car, sitting in the parking garage, zoned out on putrid memories, and willing my jaws to unclench. Taking a deep breath, I read the number: HARRINGTON CLINIC RECEIVING FACILITY.
I started the car and inhaled the cool air from the vents. After the third ring, I answered, “Hello.”
“Mrs. Harrington?”
“Yes,” I answered, more curtly than necessary.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you, but Dr. Conway has submitted a manifest and without your signature or that of Mrs. Keene’s, we can’t release the drugs.”
“I’m the second name on that list for a reason. I have a few other—”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry. I know you’re busy with Mr. Harrington. It’s just that Mrs. Keene is out of town with the senator. I’m afraid if we wait for her return…”
“I’ll be there in twenty-five minutes.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
I disconnected the call, without acknowledging her gratitude, and worked my car into traffic. Focusing on the cars about me, I sighed at the unexpected duty. Truthfully, I welcomed the distraction from my life and memories. I didn’t know what brought that particular memory back with such vigor, yet by the look of my reflection, you’d think I’d just experienced it all again. Refreshing my lipstick and covering my eyes with my sunglasses, I straightened my neck and shoulders. I was Mrs. Harrington, Mrs. Stewart Harrington. I could fucking do this.
As my internal monologue worked to convince myself, my phone rang again.
The name on the small dashboard screen read: BRODY PHILLIPS. Taking a deep breath, I hit the receive button. “Hello.”
I listened as his voice came through my car speakers. “What’s the matter? Are you all right?”
I looked down at the hands grasping the steering wheel too tightly. “I’m fine. I’ve been with Val. Did you find out anything?”
“I did, but not about the contract.”
I waited. Finally, I prodded, “Brody, I have a lot going on. Don’t give me clues. What the hell did you find?”
“Vik, I want to sit down with you and talk about this.”
My phone buzzed with another text message. This time STEWART flashed on the screen on the dashboard. “I can’t. Not today. I need to run by the Harrington Clinic’s receiving facility and sign off on a few things before Val can get the things she needs for Uganda, and then I have to go home.”
Brody’s tone lowered. “This is serious. I’m concerned that it’ll upset you. I want to be with you when you hear the details.”
I steered my car toward the distribution facility. “Brody, if it’s something I need to know, tell me.”
“Can we plan for tomorrow?”
I shook my head. Fine, I’d make it work, somehow. “Sure. Can I meet you around lunch time? You work for my husband: he’s ill. Let me meet you for lunch?”
“No, Vik. Not in public. Not with what I need to tell you. I’ll get a room at the Viceroy. Tell Stewart you’re meeting someone at 15th and Vine for lunch. I’ll text you the room number. You won’t need a key. I’ll be waiting.”
“Jeez, Brody. You’re stressing me out. If it isn’t about the contract, what’s it about?”
“Stewart’s will, Vik. He’s drafted a change to his will. He’s added an inheritance clause.”
“No,” he answered. “I want to see your pleasure. The only pain you’ll endure is the stimulation to something more pleasurable.” He bent down and kissed me. “Mrs. Harrington, you have my word.”
“Fire him,” I said, when our lips disengaged.
Stewart’s expression blanked.
“I said, fire him. Fire Travis tonight so I never need to see him again.”
Stewart pulled me against his chest. “Darling, Travis has been with me for years. I need him as much as he needs me. He knows too much about too much.” He motioned toward the bed. “Like this. You don’t want him in a position to tell the world about this.”
“I don’t want anyone to be in a position—”
Stewart’s finger covered my lips. “Stop. I’m not firing Travis, but you have my word that he’ll never be a threat, and as for others, know that there will be others. This…” He gestured toward the bed. “…will happen. Therefore, unless you plan to invoke your ability to walk away from this marriage, this conversation is done.”
When I didn’t respond, Stewart asked, “What happened? I thought you were ready.”
I wanted to say that I’d never be ready; instead, I shrugged. “I knew it was him. The way he’s looked at me over the last year has given me the creeps. I just knew it was him, and I couldn’t stand the idea of him touching me. And he was being rough. You’re never…”
Stewart captured my lips with his—kissing, caressing, and calming. “I don’t want to be. I don’t like that. That’s why I need to know that you’re doing this willingly, to make me happy.”
It was such a fucking lie. My emotions couldn’t keep up. I loathed his existence, yet he was my savior. What would have happened if he hadn’t stepped in? What would Travis have done? Eying the blood beneath my nails, I knew that whatever it was, I wouldn’t have taken it lightly.
The ringing of my phone brought me back to present. I was still in my car, sitting in the parking garage, zoned out on putrid memories, and willing my jaws to unclench. Taking a deep breath, I read the number: HARRINGTON CLINIC RECEIVING FACILITY.
I started the car and inhaled the cool air from the vents. After the third ring, I answered, “Hello.”
“Mrs. Harrington?”
“Yes,” I answered, more curtly than necessary.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you, but Dr. Conway has submitted a manifest and without your signature or that of Mrs. Keene’s, we can’t release the drugs.”
“I’m the second name on that list for a reason. I have a few other—”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry. I know you’re busy with Mr. Harrington. It’s just that Mrs. Keene is out of town with the senator. I’m afraid if we wait for her return…”
“I’ll be there in twenty-five minutes.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
I disconnected the call, without acknowledging her gratitude, and worked my car into traffic. Focusing on the cars about me, I sighed at the unexpected duty. Truthfully, I welcomed the distraction from my life and memories. I didn’t know what brought that particular memory back with such vigor, yet by the look of my reflection, you’d think I’d just experienced it all again. Refreshing my lipstick and covering my eyes with my sunglasses, I straightened my neck and shoulders. I was Mrs. Harrington, Mrs. Stewart Harrington. I could fucking do this.
As my internal monologue worked to convince myself, my phone rang again.
The name on the small dashboard screen read: BRODY PHILLIPS. Taking a deep breath, I hit the receive button. “Hello.”
I listened as his voice came through my car speakers. “What’s the matter? Are you all right?”
I looked down at the hands grasping the steering wheel too tightly. “I’m fine. I’ve been with Val. Did you find out anything?”
“I did, but not about the contract.”
I waited. Finally, I prodded, “Brody, I have a lot going on. Don’t give me clues. What the hell did you find?”
“Vik, I want to sit down with you and talk about this.”
My phone buzzed with another text message. This time STEWART flashed on the screen on the dashboard. “I can’t. Not today. I need to run by the Harrington Clinic’s receiving facility and sign off on a few things before Val can get the things she needs for Uganda, and then I have to go home.”
Brody’s tone lowered. “This is serious. I’m concerned that it’ll upset you. I want to be with you when you hear the details.”
I steered my car toward the distribution facility. “Brody, if it’s something I need to know, tell me.”
“Can we plan for tomorrow?”
I shook my head. Fine, I’d make it work, somehow. “Sure. Can I meet you around lunch time? You work for my husband: he’s ill. Let me meet you for lunch?”
“No, Vik. Not in public. Not with what I need to tell you. I’ll get a room at the Viceroy. Tell Stewart you’re meeting someone at 15th and Vine for lunch. I’ll text you the room number. You won’t need a key. I’ll be waiting.”
“Jeez, Brody. You’re stressing me out. If it isn’t about the contract, what’s it about?”
“Stewart’s will, Vik. He’s drafted a change to his will. He’s added an inheritance clause.”
