Page 52 of Her Wicked Husband (The Huxleys #2)

Bryce

For once, the deposition ends early. I stretch and grab my things. Although I’m not completely done for the day, everything else can be done at home. I want to check on Fiona. Although she was smiling, she looked a little pale and uncomfortable in my office.

Did she sense Josh’s dislike? But she didn’t react like this at the family dinner, when it was more overt.

I check my phone. She hasn’t looked at the photo of the cupcakes or the haiku I wrote to thank her. Maybe she’s still napping.

I head out of the office, then stop at the sight of Amélie arguing with a woman. My assistant is on her feet, which means she’s less than happy about the situation and feels the need to assert herself.

“What’s the problem?” I say, ready to back Amélie up.

“She’s insisting on seeing you even though I told her repeatedly there’s no appointment.”

“I’ve called repeatedly over the last two weeks, and he’s always unavailable.

I don’t believe that for a second.” The woman turns to me.

She’s familiar—from the auburn hair knotted into a loose chignon to the green-gold eyes.

Blue japamala loops around her thin wrist, and a forest-green Dior fits her like a second skin.

Sherry Oberman, in the flesh. How interesting.

If I didn’t know Fiona was adopted, I might think Sherry was her biological mother.

Except for the eyes—often unfocused and sometimes too soulless.

The woman supposedly grieves for losing her real daughter, but underneath it is a little too much calculation.

It’s as though she tallies everything as a plus or minus, with her being the only arbiter of assigned value.

“Mrs. Oberman,” I say coldly. “My assistant doesn’t lie. I am extremely busy.”

She tilts her chin stubbornly. “You’re free now, aren’t you?”

“No. I’m about to head out.”

“I only need a little bit of your time.”

I open my mouth to decline—

“It’s about Finn.”

My eyebrows twitch a little at the way she says Fiona’s name.

There’s something vaguely obsessive, although I can’t put my finger on why.

Is Fiona a plus or a minus? Sherry could be upset about the way I stole her daughter away from the wedding—in which case, it’s taken her too long to make her complaints known.

“Fine.” I glance at my watch. “Two minutes, in my office.”

Shooting Amélie a triumphant look, she slips inside. Rude old woman. “No refreshment necessary,” I inform my assistant before she tries to serve coffee or something. Amélie sticks her tongue out at Mrs. Oberman’s back.

I shut the door and lean against it, making it clear I’m impatient to get going. Sherry takes a seat and gives me a blank look. “Do you love Finn?”

“None of your business.” I’m not discussing my feelings for Fiona with Sherry, especially when she hasn’t given me a single indication she cares for Fiona.

Her eyebrows pinch in confusion and disapproval. “But you took her from Jude and married her.”

It takes all my self-control to not inform her he would’ve made a horrible husband because his penis is defective and inferior. “And? Are you intending to sue me? ”

She looks taken aback. “Goodness, no. Why would I? It was good karma.”

Good karma?

“I was hoping something would happen at the wedding. Jude as her husband would not have been good karma for my daughter.”

I cock an eyebrow and say nothing. Silence is golden in more ways than one, especially when you’re completely lost.

“I’ve thought about it for a long time. I didn’t want to interfere.

Finn has her own path to walk. But”—Sherry thumbs the beads—“good karma must be earned. I had to do it to make up for something that happened ten years ago. Something really awful. I heard her crying in her room over breaking up with you when she came home for a break.”

My belly tightens. What’s Sherry trying to say? Fiona dumped me and reveled in it. Staged the whole scene to make it as painful and humiliating as possible. Is the woman claiming Fiona never wanted to do any of that?

Sherry continues, “I could never ask her why. She wouldn’t have told me. She never tells me anything unless it’s good news.”

“Well, that’s helpful,” I say. My patience is in short supply. I want to go home and see my wife. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Nothing, except be kind to her. And Aaron. He’s her brother.”

Ah. Now I get it . She’s here to ask me to keep Aaron off my shitlist. I never liked him—he always bristled with envy and a well-deserved inferiority complex.

One of these days, I plan to fuck him up for racking up a two-million-dollar debt with somebody like Harvey and making his sister pay it off.

“I don’t need your advice on how to treat my wife.

” It comes out more harshly than it should.

But Sherry gives me a weird vibe, and her continual references to karma creep me out.

She doesn’t speak about it the way most Americans would.

She brings it up in a way that reminds me of my late Japanese grandmother, who was a devout Buddhist.

When I visited her after breaking up with Fiona, she told me to find peace by letting go. If I had no expectations, I would suffer no disappointment or dissatisfaction. By freeing myself from such mortal entanglements and shackles, I could truly experience inner peace and freedom .

I couldn’t buy into that or practice it, although intellectually I understood the wisdom of her suggestion.

But unlike my grandmother, Sherry displays none of the tranquility.

The woman definitely wants something, and wants it so badly it pains her soul.

It’s just that I don’t think what she desires has anything to do with Fiona’s wellbeing.

The pinched mouth, the zealous glow in her eyes—all indicate it’s something personal and selfish.

I have no civility left for people like her.

“Perhaps you should take your own counsel and be kind to her, although it looks like it might be too late.”

Sherry’s cheeks redden with embarrassment and anger at being called out, but she tilts her chin up. “Finn’s a good girl. The only thing that anybody could hurt her with is that she was adopted, but why would that matter?”

Is she serious? “It wasn’t a normal adoption. She was selected to replace your dead daughter Finley.”

Shock slaps Sherry. She stares at me like she can’t believe I dare to speak of her dead child.

“Don’t look so surprised. What’s she supposed to think when you can’t even bother to put her name on her birthday cakes?”

“That’s—”

“Not interested in your excuses. I’m sure she knew it even before she entered college. Kids always notice things faster than you realize.”

Sherry tilts her hardened jaw. “Finn is her name .”

“If you say so.”

“I’m not as oblivious as you think. By the time I realized she had wrong beliefs about the situation, it was too late to do anything about it.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Defensive much?”

“I’m not being defensive.”

“Of course not. You just let the status quo continue even though you knew it was wrong. It was easier for you to pretend everything was fine rather than reaching out to her and setting things right.”

“Don’t judge me. You don’t know what it was like. What would you have done in my place?”

“I don’t know, since I’m not you. But I wouldn’t have let her think she’s just a substitute.

I would’ve treated her like her own person with her own worth.

If you’re here to earn points, it’s not working.

I don’t give a damn about your karma math.

I won’t be used in your weird mental scheme.

If you want to know how she’s doing, ask her.

If you want to apologize, say it to her face.

But don’t come to me for an easy way out.

That’s despicable, and I won’t do your dirty work. ”

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Guess you aren’t going to apologize.” I glance at my watch. “Your time’s up. You can walk out on your own feet or I can have security drag you out.”

Sherry stands, her spine stiff. “You’re rude. No wonder Finn didn’t turn to you back then.”

Her jab hits the mark. I hide it with a smile that’s all teeth and no warmth.

“Her name is Fiona, not Finn or Finley. At least I call her by her real name while you’re still using her to soothe your loss.

” I lever myself up off the door. “A lot of mothers lose children, and I’m sure it’s traumatic.

But I’ve never heard of one who’d use an orphan to satisfy her own selfish desires.

You’re a one-of-a-kind bitch, Sherry. Don’t ever come near me or my wife, or I’ll expose every dirty little secret you have. ”

* * *

I head home, my mind churning as I process what Sherry said. Something happened to Finn ten years ago. She was crying…

The way Sherry tried to link Aaron to Fiona, claiming I should be nice to that subhuman trash, doesn’t sit well. Why bring him up at all? He’s never been on my radar.

I tap the steering wheel in a steady rhythm. Sherry dropped a few clues, albeit without any order or clarity. I try to process them.

Fiona went from sweet to overwrought, confident to doormat, almost overnight.

It was almost like somebody flipped a switch in her brain.

She couldn’t stand Jude, then all of a sudden acted like she couldn’t live without him.

But how does Aaron fit into it, if he even fits into it at all?

He and Jude were close, but that doesn’t mean he had anything to do with Fiona’s abrupt change.

Regardless, whatever happened to her must have been awful.

I want to give her what comfort I can, let her know that I’ll always be on her side, and whenever she’s ready to talk, I’ll listen.

Then I’ll take appropriate measures against those responsible for hurting her—behind her back, since she doesn’t need to know all the sordid details.

I want her to see only beautiful things, hear only pleasing sounds.

I don’t mind bloodying my hands to give her the sanctuary she deserves.

I park my car and slip inside the house, moving quietly in case Fiona is still napping.

She isn’t in the living room. I make my way to the bedroom, trying to select the right words to express what’s in my heart…

and failing. What good is a Harvard Law degree if you can’t come up with a decent opening?

The bedroom is empty. The door to the en suite bathroom is wide open. I glance inside. A slim white stick stands out next to the sink on her side of the bathroom. Head cocked, I pick it up. Two lines in a small square box. A pregnancy test.

My mouth dries. When did she take the test? Before or after she stopped by the office? She seemed a little tired, but not overly upset or concerned—

Something crinkles underneath my shoe. An onion-skin-thin piece of paper lies on the floor. I step off and pick it up. An instruction sheet with tiny writing.

Two lines means… Fiona’s pregnant .

My mind empties for a moment. Heart pounding, I spin around. “Fiona!” We agreed there would be no babies, but my chest swells with emotions that are too hot and special. Fiona and I are creating a life—a precious baby made even more precious because it’s half Fiona.

No matter what I’ve been grousing and deluding myself about, I can’t hide the fact that I’m in love with her. I fell in love with her when she rescued Gardy. I was in love with her even after she betrayed me. And in spite of everything, I’m still in love with her.

An overwhelming need to confess to her that I want this baby hammers in my heart. I want to nurture this beautiful new life and watch it grow and be the most amazing human being it can be.

“ Fiona! ” I call out again.

Silence.

Did she panic when she found out? I check my phone. She hasn’t called. The security system says she left the house in the Maybach about two hours ago. Where did she go?

I text her, but nothing. The message remains unread. She hasn’t seen my photo or the haiku about the cupcakes. I try calling. Still no response.

I send her another text.

–Me: I saw the pregnancy test. Don’t do anything hasty, and don’t make any decisions. Baby, Fiona, let me see you and we can talk about this. We’re going to be parents! You have no idea how happy this makes me!

Still nothing.

The phone vibrates in my hand. I glance at the screen eagerly, but it’s just Josh.

“Yeah?” I say.

“Fiona’s been kidnapped. Aaron nabbed her.”

It takes me two beats before my mind processes what my twin’s saying—and that he isn’t making a very unfunny joke. “How do you know?”

“Because I heard just now.” He lets out a breath. “I put a bug and tracker in her purse today in your office.”

“ What? ”

“I don’t trust her, okay? I wanted to be prepared, just in case.”

“You son of a bitch!” Realization hits me in the face. “I should’ve known something was up when you lingered in my office, wanting to host a family dinner. If Fiona hadn’t shown up, you were going to do it at the dinner, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, but it was for you.”

“How is this for me? I’m your brother, not some kid you have to watch over!”

“I know, but you’re too soft.”

Rage shoots through my veins. “Says who? Do you think I’m still her good fucking boy who gets his brother kidnapped?”

“Bryce—”

“We’re going to talk about this later. Now shut the fuck up and tell me: where’s Fiona? ”

“Hollywood Inn in North Hollywood. ”

What the hell?

“We gotta hurry. It’s Jude and Aaron both.”

“Fuck.” Jude is never the good news.

“I’m calling 911.”

I start to run, pausing at the sight of the Huxley cane gleaming inside the case. I grab it and rush out.