The CEO's Redemption Page 3

  “So that’s it? You think I’m crazy.”

  “No. I think all the shit with Xavier, along with lack of sleep, has made you see things that aren’t there. Just tell me. Are you happy, Izzy?”

  My heart fucking breaks while I wait for her answer. What if she wants to leave? What if I have to settle for visiting rights? Weekend dad? Ah fuck. We were so good together. How did it turn to shit in so short a time?

  Her eyes water, and wet lashes lift. “Grayson, love, I’m only unhappy because you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

  I would fucking lose it except for how she says she loves me. Somehow, I got to rid her of these delirious notions.

  “I called the agency, sweetheart. All the nannies said you fired them for no reason. I know you’ve been searching the web. You and Slate’s security team can find no sign of Xavier. You and I have got to deal with this reality. No one is trying to break us up but you.”

  Xavier Cross

  I fucking hate Cuba. I hate the humidity, the giant cockroaches, and most of all, I hate how it’s just a stone’s throw away from the United States, where I would be if it wasn’t for Grayson fucking Patten the third.

  From my deck on my private hilltop, past a vineyard, far below, a yacht sails freely across the crystal ocean. Soon, that will be me.

  A shot of Glenlivet, I settle into my leather lounge chair, and make a call.

  “Hello? Who is this?” The bitch knows very well who this is.

  Who else would have a Cuban Caller ID? Not only that, I’ve been dealing with her for over six months. My fingers clench around my crystal tumbler, the other hand in a fist.

  “You were supposed to get the girl to sleep with him. What the fuck am I paying you for?”

  I’d read and reread the email until I had to say something. It’s fucking impossible to get things done from here. If I was in New York, Patten would be dead by now.

  They need to pay for me being exiled.

  Divide and conquer, that was the plan.

  The owner of the nanny agency in Bumfuck, New Jersey sighs. “It takes two to tango, Mr. Cross and Mr. Patten wasn’t interested, not with this one, nor the last two I sent.”

  She’s lucky I’m over a thousand miles away because I demand respect from my subordinates and her tone of voice isn’t cutting it. I’ll deal with her later because right now, I need her cooperation.

  “Tell me everything.”

  The bitch has the audacity to click her tongue. “Well, just like you asked, the girl spent a whole week flirting with him. She even walked in on him while he was taking a shower.”

  “And…”

  “And nothing. He didn’t take the bait.”

  That’s impossible, Grayson Patten is no saint.

  “So, what happened after that?” I need this to work. The Pattens are too strong together. Apart, I’ll rip them to shreds.

  “So, like you asked, my girl told Mrs. Patten she was raped and quit. Later, when Mr. Patten called, I told him that Mrs. Patten falsely accused her, then fired her. I did exactly what you said. I’ll send my invoice through PayPal.

  “You can forget about the bonus. That was only if you consummated the deal.”

  The cunt sighs again. “Like I said, he wasn’t interested. Goodbye Mr. Cross.”

  I stand, pour myself another drink, and stride past the marble statues to the window. For those with plenty of money, Cuba isn’t such bad a place to hang out but I need to be back in the states. The fucking internet here is the worst. It’s hard to get anything done.

  I snicker.

  At Harvard, I learned everything there was to know about supply and demand. Then, all it took was some seed money and a dark website. I connect people with specialized skills to those needing them.

  Business is booming and I’d be in fat city except for one man. “Grayson Patten.” I spit the name so loud, my housekeeper comes running,

  “Si?”

  “Nada.” With a wave of my hand, she scurries back into the kitchen and leaves me to stew, stomach acid burning.

  My college roommate, Grayson Patten III was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a stick up his ass. Four years I sucked up to him and it finally payed off. When his father needed a bright young COO, Grayson recommended me.

  Everything was going perfectly and according to plan. I embezzled more than a hundred million dollars and would’ve never been caught if it wasn’t for the old man’s cancer. When he got sick, he called for his fucking prodigal son to return and take over the business.

  Talk about bad timing. I’d just subcontracted this awesome government deal out of Texas. That’s why I hired Isabella Harte, the ungrateful bitch. She had no idea I was getting paid by Uncle Sam but also found a buyer in Uzbekistan, willing to pay top dollar for the source code.

  Now, because I didn’t deliver, there’s a serious price on my head and the only person who can save my ass is Isabella Harte.

  One way or another, I’m going to get her.

  Chapter 4

  Isabella

  As the limo makes wide turns through the narrow streets of Queens, I fume in silence and glare across the seat at my husband.

  So, he thinks I’m hearing things? Called my therapist?

  I let that sink in as we make our way past the blocks of brownstones into Brooklyn. Many of the buildings have bright flower boxes lining their first-floor windows or tiny gardens by their stoops. Formerly blue collar, tattooed millennials now rush over the sidewalks with grocery bags and strollers.

  God, I miss this place.

  Grayson’s eyes capture mine, his big warm hands over mine. “Don’t be mad, I’m only thinking of you… and Skye.”

  “But Gray, for heaven’s sake, I know the difference between real and fantasy.” I shrug out of his grasp to deal with Skye while she pulls at her pink cap and fusses.

  Unsnapping it from under her chin, I lean over and place it in his hands. “Congratulations, it worked.”

  Maybe my tone was over-the-top because he gives me the silent treatment the rest of the trip.

  Ah shit. What the hell am I going to do?

  Certainly, I can’t stay with a man who tries to make me think I’m crazy. Damn, most women would consider it emotional abuse. Have I fallen so low?

  Taking a deep breath, for the first time I consider a scary possibility. What if he’s right and I am delusional? How would I know?

  Surely, my therapist would tell me, wouldn’t she?

  A stabbing pain shoots from behind my eyes, the familiar headache back. Maybe Gray paid these women to keep them quiet. He’s got plenty to spare. A few thousand dollars would seem like a small fortune to them.

  But he’s not like that, Izzy.

  How much do I really know about my husband? His past? He could’ve worked for the cartels. The wife is always the last to know.

  Shit. He’s talking at me so I try to catch up.

  “…poker. Why not show off Skye, then leave her with me? That way you can have a few hours to relax and the two girls can play.”

  Two girls? He must be talking about going to CJ’s with the baby. So, he’s practicing how to be a single dad? I want to say no but if he’s going to leave me, it’s best he gets a clue.

  “Sure, sounds like a great idea.” I plaster a fake smile on my face while he shoots me a real one, the one that makes my panties melt.

  I moan. How will I live without him?

  When Slate lets me out in front of the bar, I can’t even bear to look at my husband. And when he hands Skye out to me, I swallow hard and gulp for a breath. How can he make the sweetest love, then turn it all around? Did he do it on purpose? Is he that manipulative?

  Heart in my throat, I rush across the sidewalk, through the double glass doors, and past the pool table.

  Emily, the owner, jumps up from a barstool.

  The small ring in her eyebrow dances as she hugs us both tightly to her chest. “Mmmm. I’ve missed you so much. Is this Skye?”

&n
bsp; “In the flesh.” I let her hold the baby who reaches out little hands, kicks her legs, and babbles hello in baby-speak.

  Grinning wide, the redhead lets the baby pull her hair and shouts across the room to her partner tending bar. “Hey Bryan, look over here.”

  A tall skinny man with a pony tail nods at me and raises his glass. “Congratulations.”

  “Everyone’s already here.” Emily bounces the baby on her hip and leads the way down the stairs.

  Talon, a speakeasy during prohibition, is the perfect place for our meetings. It has a private room in the basement with brick walls and a lounge-like atmosphere. A slightly-cracked, antique mirror sits over a turn-of-the-century faux fireplace.

  “Yea! You’re here!” Melanie jumps up from the silver-studded couch and tugs me into a warm embrace.

  “Group hug,” shout six other women who crowd around in a circle.

  Emily chuckles and hands back Skye so she can draw a pitcher of artisan beer. I get introduced to the new girls, Star, Asia, and Lila. The other three, Frankie, Kelli, and Sam have been in the group as long as me. It’s hard to believe I’ve been coming to these meetings for over a year.

  Mel pours, passes around glasses of amber liquid, we clink, but after a small sip, I put mine down. “I really shouldn’t, I’m nursing.”

  “Read.” Mel shoves a printout from the American Pediatrics Society. “It’s says it’s fine if you hold off feeding for four more hours.”

  I glance at the time. “Damn, girl. Now I remember why you’re my best friend.”

  She eyes me over her glass and shakes her head. “I, however will abstain and live vicariously through all of you.”

  After everyone gushes over Mel’s news and gets an opportunity to hold Skye, I run back outside. I shoot a smile to Slate who stands by the open back door of the limo. Leaning in, I put Skye in my husband’s arms.

  Suddenly, I’m not so sure this is a good idea. “Everything she needs is in the red bag. There’s a bottle in a cooler and—”

  “We got this Izzy. Go. Have fun.”

  “And no cigars, not around the babies.”

  Grayson raises his brows with his mouth turned down. “We got this, babe.”

  “Okay… but call me if you need anything, anything at all.”

  He shuts the window without another word and I just stand there and inhale exhaust fumes until the limo turns the corner.

  Shit, I am really fucking up.

  Back downstairs, I quietly sip my beer, sink deep into the leather couch and let the rest chatter excitedly about their lives.

  They quiet down when Mel clinks on a glass with her spoon. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to start. I’ve been having bad dreams again and maybe you all can help.”

  Occasionally, we all wake with cold sweats and hearts pounding. When I confronted my abuser, my night-terrors got better, that is, until recently.

  Ice cubes snap in her seltzer, candlelight flickers, and she closes her eyes. “In my dream, I shove all my weight against the front door, hoping the bicep of the intruder will withdraw. I can’t see his face but we’ve met thousands of times before in similar dreams and I’m certain of one thing. He wants me dead and no matter how hard I try, the door will fly open.”

  Eyes glassy, Mel focuses on a spot over the bar, as if a screen were there, playing out the movie in her head. “Suddenly I’m screaming, running in an open field, and press nine-one-one but keep getting a wrong number. Then, Gabi is crying and I’m a little girl with a baby in my arms and evil getting closer and closer. When his hand clamps on my shoulder, I feel cold steel on my neck and…”

  She stops and blinks, back in the present. “The whole damn house wakes. CJ, Gabi, my nanny…”

  This is the first time I’ve ever seen Melanie anything but composed and it breaks my heart that she has to go through this. I take her drink, place it on the shiny black coffee table, and squeeze her cold hands.

  Then, I begin my dream interpretation with the phrase taken from a book we all read. “So, if this were my dream, it would mean…”

  I got nothing but this is for Mel so I give it a shot. “… that I was afraid of confronting something. What about you? Are you confronting anything new?”

  “Nooo…” The look on her face betrays her lies. I know she’s been trying social media to contact a cousin she was close to as a kid and it didn’t go well.

  “I call bullshit.” That comes from Sam, a millennial whose arms are brightly tattooed with art from the Museum of Natural History.

  With a grimace and a shrug Mel ’fesses up. “Okay. I was in contact with my cousin for a while, but for no reason, she unfriended me.”

  Tears form in her eyes and she swipes them away with the back of her hand. “It totally sucks, you know? My father abused me and yet I’m the one who has to deal with the fallout.”

  “Your father abused you?” When Lila speaks all eyes dart to her.

  Note to self, never play poker with the new girl.

  “I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have asked.” Face completely blank, she sits with her hands in her lap and stares into space.

  “Mel? You okay to share?” Frankie’s husky voice comes from where she’s sitting at the bar with long legs crossed. She says she’s seventy, looks more like forty, and dresses like twenty.

  “Sure. Why not.” Mel laughs bitterly, stands, and walks to the bar where Emily pours her more seltzer.

  “My father sexually abused me my whole childhood.” Absent-mindedly, she plays with the knob on the antique short-wave radio that sits on a shelf to the right of the bar.

  “I wish I could say it was awful, I was beaten, and I cried. I think my guilt would be less. Instead… Even now, it is so hard to admit…”

  I jump in to protect her. “You don’t have to explain. Maybe that’s enough for now.”

  “Stop, Iz. I need to do this. If I have bad dreams, it means my subconscious is pissed off at me for burying things again.”

  “I am so sorry,” Lila whispers.

  “I know, hun, but don’t be. This is the kind of work we do here. It’s the only safe place we got.”

  Everyone now, except Lila weeps and Emily pulls a box of tissues from under the bar. We pass them around, blow, and say small encouragements so Mel can move forward.

  “I was young when it started, maybe nine or ten. My Mom wasn’t home the first time he slipped his hand up my nightgown. After that, it happened so often, it’s too numerous to count. It’s like asking someone how many times they ate ice cream before they hit adulthood. The sad fact is, it was years before I knew it was wrong. Damn, I was so little and it felt good. My father said I was his special little girl. He said it was just a way to show me how much he loved me.”

  “It was like that for me, too.” Lila whispers so softly I almost didn’t catch it and Star moves her chair so she can put her arm around her.

  I wouldn’t be surprised if Lila had never before shared this out loud. Our group is like that.

  As Mel paces in the small space between the couch and the bar, shadows spike on the brick walls. “A couple of times my mother walked in on him and his hand quickly jumped away. I think, from that, I knew it was supposed to be secret. She never said a word. Maybe if she had things would’ve been different. It was only when I hit puberty I understood what was really going on and I tried to get him to stop. He would promise, it would be good for a while but then he’d be back in my bedroom when I was half-asleep.”

  I’ve heard Mel tell her story before but never more vividly. What the hell was wrong with her father? What kind of man messes with his own kid?

  Her story is so hard to hear. “Throughout my teenage years, I had to push his groping hands away. When I was about thirteen, I tried to tell my mother. We were close until that day. Shocked, she told me I must be mistaken, confused. Then, came the worst. Little by little she started to treat me differently. She tried to make me quit my job at the local library, made me drop some of my advanced cours
es, and ruined my chances for a good scholarship. The lessons learned were clear. Say anything and suffer the consequences. So, I shut up.”

  As I listen, I start to freak because this is exactly what it feels like Grayson is doing to me. He wants to make me think I’m crazy and punishes me when I tell the truth. I can only imagine going through that as a youngster.

  Star, a victim of date rape asks, “Why do you think he didn’t, you know, penetrate you?”

  “Maybe he did and I can’t remember but I don’t think so. I do recall when I was about eleven we rented a cabin in the woods and I befriended a nearby camper, a couple years older than me. The girl’s father was in jail for rape and she’d had an abortion. I didn’t even know what those things meant but my father didn’t want me to play with her again. He said she wasn’t a very nice little girl. Much later, I figured he was worried.”

  “Makes sense.” Star nods while Mel sips on her drink.

  All is silent except for the raucous laughter from the bar upstairs.

  Then, Mel sighs and sits back down. “This is what’s really messed up. Soon after I met CJ, I confronted my father and told my family. He claimed I made up lies, that I was sick in the head. Since then, no one in my family will talk to me, not even my own mother. It’s so unfair. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  She sobs and my problems seem small in comparison.

  In order to get the attention off from her, I clear my throat. “I would like to share next.”

  At her grateful look, I know I did good. “I was abused by my cousin. When I confronted him last year, he swore he was only thirteen when it happened. I was ten. He said he thought I was his girlfriend and apologized. He even agreed to visit our group next time he was in New York but I just found out he was here and didn’t call. Also, I’ve been asking around and everything he told me was a lie. He wasn’t thirteen, he was seventeen. I feel so stupid. I actually believed him.”

  Mel’s mouth drops open. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “Yeah. Don’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t want Grayson to go back to Minnesota and castrate my cousin. I was wondering, does anyone know if it’s too late to press charges?”