Insidious
Page 81
I shook my head. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Really? Fucking look at yourself. Look at your goddamned life. You’re Victoria Fucking Harrington. You aren’t a poor girl with a twelve-year-old kid who’s trying to stay alive by playing the kinky games these ass-wipes want to play. You have choices. Mr. Harrington made choices for you, ones that would pacify the powers that be. They won’t stay pacified for long.
“You want to know what I’d do with that contract. I’d explain a few more of your choices to you. One thing I’d say is that you have a fucking fortune. Use it. Take it. Leave the goddamn world of Harrington Spas and Suites to rot.
“Do you really want to own a company that is nothing more than a cover for the exploitation of women who don’t live the fucking high life you live? I’m not saying that you’ve had it easy. You haven’t. But at the end of each day, you were unhurt and sleeping in a fancy-ass apartment or mansion with a fucking rock on your finger that could feed one of those other women’s families for five years.”
My stomach knotted. I’d never thought about it like that.
“You were destined for that life. Mr. Harrington made it the best he could. Now is your chance to make it better.”
Travis’ voice lowered. “I can guarantee that if you choose to not sign a contract with either one of us, my fucking job will get a lot more difficult. They want you.”
“Who? Who fucking wants me?”
His dark eyes narrowed. “Who fucked you the other day?”
I no longer felt that I had any secrets from Travis. In a way it was liberating. Without blinking, I replied honestly, “Brody Phillips.”
He shook his head. “Jesus, are you fucking crazy? He’s part of Craven and Knowles. They’re so deep in this shit. Your sense of smell should have told you to stay away.”
“No, you’re wrong. He does work there, but he’s not one of them. He didn’t know about the contract, the warehouse, or anything until I asked him to dig into it. All he knows is what I’ve told him.”
Travis leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “So he’s the reason you knew about the will?”
“Yes. You see? He’s helped me. It’s Parker I don’t trust.”
“Follow your gut… with Mr. Craven.”
“He’s on his way over.”
Travis inhaled deeply, his chest expanding in his tight shirt. “I implore you, Mrs. Harrington, do not sign his contract. Tell him that you’ve thought it over and want to fulfill your husband’s wishes. If you trust Mr. Phillips so much, have him write up a new contract with my name. But above all, under no circumstances should you sneak off without me. You truly don’t realize what you’re up against.”
“Travis, before you go, I want you to tell me something.”
His brow rose.
“Who is Carlisle?”
The blood drained from Travis’ usually confident expression. “Mrs. Harrington, neither Senator Keene nor Parker Craven is your worst nightmare. I’m not sure how or why you’re aware of Carlisle Albini; however, I suggest you forget what you know. He’s none of your concern; neither is Niccolo, Wesley, nor any of their family.”
None of my concern. Stewart had said that before we married. Albini? Wesley Albini, from Kinsley Preparatory.
“Niccolo is Carlisle’s brother. Who’s Wesley?” I asked.
“Mrs. Harrington, you have no idea what you’re asking.”
I raised my voice. “Tell me. Who is he?”
“Wesley is his son.”
“Niccolo’s son?”
“No, Carlisle’s.”
My head felt suddenly too heavy to hold. Wesley Albini was my brother.
“MRS. HARRINGTON,” KRISTINA’S voice came through the speaker of my phone. “Mr. Craven is here for his ten o’clock appointment.”
“Thank you, Kristina. Show him in.”
I stood.
“Vic-tor-ia.” He elongated my name as he entered Stewart’s office, my office.
“Parker, so nice of you to accommodate my wishes. I’m not quite ready to face the world.”
“It’s my pleasure. I understand that this is still a difficult time for you.” He sat across from my desk and leaned forward. “I suppose it will be for a while. I truly wish we didn’t need to discuss the matters at hand; however, I believe the sooner we address this, the sooner we can have it resolved.”
“Resolved?” I questioned. “I’m not sure what we need to resolve.”
“Victoria, you are in a precarious situation. If it weren’t so dire, I would gladly wait. However, there are deals that Stewart made, ones he has yet to fully repay.”
“Surely you’ve been in contact with our accountants and bankers. I’m confident that they can take care of whatever it is you need.”
I loved watching him shift in his seat. There was no way I was broaching the subject of the contract. I wanted to hear him say it.
His brows rose. “This isn’t about money. Don’t play dumb.”
“Oh, was I playing? You walked in here the other day and expected me to blindly sign documents without reading them.” When his lips pursed, I asked, “Now, that was you, wasn’t it?”
“I had every intention of explaining them to you at a later date. You don’t seem to understand the trust relationship there is between an attorney and client. There were many occasions where Stewart gave me full reign over his affairs.”
“Really? Fucking look at yourself. Look at your goddamned life. You’re Victoria Fucking Harrington. You aren’t a poor girl with a twelve-year-old kid who’s trying to stay alive by playing the kinky games these ass-wipes want to play. You have choices. Mr. Harrington made choices for you, ones that would pacify the powers that be. They won’t stay pacified for long.
“You want to know what I’d do with that contract. I’d explain a few more of your choices to you. One thing I’d say is that you have a fucking fortune. Use it. Take it. Leave the goddamn world of Harrington Spas and Suites to rot.
“Do you really want to own a company that is nothing more than a cover for the exploitation of women who don’t live the fucking high life you live? I’m not saying that you’ve had it easy. You haven’t. But at the end of each day, you were unhurt and sleeping in a fancy-ass apartment or mansion with a fucking rock on your finger that could feed one of those other women’s families for five years.”
My stomach knotted. I’d never thought about it like that.
“You were destined for that life. Mr. Harrington made it the best he could. Now is your chance to make it better.”
Travis’ voice lowered. “I can guarantee that if you choose to not sign a contract with either one of us, my fucking job will get a lot more difficult. They want you.”
“Who? Who fucking wants me?”
His dark eyes narrowed. “Who fucked you the other day?”
I no longer felt that I had any secrets from Travis. In a way it was liberating. Without blinking, I replied honestly, “Brody Phillips.”
He shook his head. “Jesus, are you fucking crazy? He’s part of Craven and Knowles. They’re so deep in this shit. Your sense of smell should have told you to stay away.”
“No, you’re wrong. He does work there, but he’s not one of them. He didn’t know about the contract, the warehouse, or anything until I asked him to dig into it. All he knows is what I’ve told him.”
Travis leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “So he’s the reason you knew about the will?”
“Yes. You see? He’s helped me. It’s Parker I don’t trust.”
“Follow your gut… with Mr. Craven.”
“He’s on his way over.”
Travis inhaled deeply, his chest expanding in his tight shirt. “I implore you, Mrs. Harrington, do not sign his contract. Tell him that you’ve thought it over and want to fulfill your husband’s wishes. If you trust Mr. Phillips so much, have him write up a new contract with my name. But above all, under no circumstances should you sneak off without me. You truly don’t realize what you’re up against.”
“Travis, before you go, I want you to tell me something.”
His brow rose.
“Who is Carlisle?”
The blood drained from Travis’ usually confident expression. “Mrs. Harrington, neither Senator Keene nor Parker Craven is your worst nightmare. I’m not sure how or why you’re aware of Carlisle Albini; however, I suggest you forget what you know. He’s none of your concern; neither is Niccolo, Wesley, nor any of their family.”
None of my concern. Stewart had said that before we married. Albini? Wesley Albini, from Kinsley Preparatory.
“Niccolo is Carlisle’s brother. Who’s Wesley?” I asked.
“Mrs. Harrington, you have no idea what you’re asking.”
I raised my voice. “Tell me. Who is he?”
“Wesley is his son.”
“Niccolo’s son?”
“No, Carlisle’s.”
My head felt suddenly too heavy to hold. Wesley Albini was my brother.
“MRS. HARRINGTON,” KRISTINA’S voice came through the speaker of my phone. “Mr. Craven is here for his ten o’clock appointment.”
“Thank you, Kristina. Show him in.”
I stood.
“Vic-tor-ia.” He elongated my name as he entered Stewart’s office, my office.
“Parker, so nice of you to accommodate my wishes. I’m not quite ready to face the world.”
“It’s my pleasure. I understand that this is still a difficult time for you.” He sat across from my desk and leaned forward. “I suppose it will be for a while. I truly wish we didn’t need to discuss the matters at hand; however, I believe the sooner we address this, the sooner we can have it resolved.”
“Resolved?” I questioned. “I’m not sure what we need to resolve.”
“Victoria, you are in a precarious situation. If it weren’t so dire, I would gladly wait. However, there are deals that Stewart made, ones he has yet to fully repay.”
“Surely you’ve been in contact with our accountants and bankers. I’m confident that they can take care of whatever it is you need.”
I loved watching him shift in his seat. There was no way I was broaching the subject of the contract. I wanted to hear him say it.
His brows rose. “This isn’t about money. Don’t play dumb.”
“Oh, was I playing? You walked in here the other day and expected me to blindly sign documents without reading them.” When his lips pursed, I asked, “Now, that was you, wasn’t it?”
“I had every intention of explaining them to you at a later date. You don’t seem to understand the trust relationship there is between an attorney and client. There were many occasions where Stewart gave me full reign over his affairs.”
