Page 65

MARISELA

T he slight chill in the air had me reaching into my jacket pockets, attempting to keep warm at the same time the vibrating of my phone sent a different kind of shiver down my spine.

The kind you got when you knew you shouldn’t be sticking your hand inside the cookie jar even as you were licking the crumbs off your fingertips.

I held my breath, propriety warring with curiosity as I tugged the device out and skimmed the notification across the top.

An email I shouldn’t read, especially here, but couldn’t stop myself from devouring either.

Every word latching on and feeding my tendency for self-sabotage.

My ego too, if I were being honest. Because I enjoyed the attention nearly as much as I despised the man giving it to me.

My Dearest Marisela,

You looked particularly beautiful when you were leaving the house this morning. Sad but beautiful. What can I do to turn that frown into a smile? Would my mouth lapping at that sweet cunt help? My face is yours for the taking.

AL

I shook my head, swiped the email from my screen, and sent it directly to the recycle bin before emptying that too.

Out of sight, out of mind. Except he was never really out of my mind.

He made sure of it. He continued to make sure of it.

No matter how long I’d been married to his brother.

No matter how many times I turned down his advances over the years.

Still, for as much as he claimed to know me, he was wrong. I wasn’t sad. I was caught off guard. Shocked, I guess?

It had been sudden. At least it felt that way.

Or maybe that was just something that had been so ingrained in us to think.

To say. That death was sudden. Even though that wasn’t always the case.

Even though sometimes death was expected.

Appreciated. Like my mother. Like the man in the casket in front of me.

Maybe he didn’t appreciate it. But I sure did. And so did my husband. Who’d been left everything in the will. It was all his. Mine by proximity. The company, the estate, the cash flowing out of the multiple bank accounts …

It almost seemed too easy.

I looked up, peering past the giant hole that separated family from friends.

My black veil fluttering in the wind and my hem whipping against my knees as my glare honed in on Adrian.

Who hadn’t been there a moment ago. Who wasn’t even named in the obituary.

The prodigal son treated like a stranger at his own father’s funeral.

Not that he seemed all that bothered by Mr. Prescott’s death.

More bored than anything else. And that’s when it occurred to me.

He wasn’t here to mourn. He was here to see it for himself.

To watch the casket get lowered into the ground, the dirt get piled on top.

To ensure those bones were as forgotten as the secrets they kept.

Or maybe I was wrong about that too. Maybe he had another reason to be here. I could only guess, considering the man flipped between hot and cold, between sending me dirty emails in private and insisting I address him appropriately in public.

Mr. Lambert was…

Well, I didn’t know what he was. Only that some days I hated him and others I hated him less .

I wasn’t sure what category he fell into today.

But I had a feeling I’d figure it out soon enough.

Seeing as the crunching of grass announced his presence before he did.

Then again, I would have felt him even if it hadn’t.

Somehow, the air always increased a few degrees whenever the man was near.

I spun on a heel, grabbing on to Tate’s arm to keep him from toppling over. He smelled like booze and Botox. He overindulged in both .

“My condolences.” Adrian dipped his chin to his brother, then leaned forward to press a kiss to my cheek. Lingering a few seconds before pulling back again.

I quirked a brow. “To you as well, Mr. Lambert.”

“Doctor,” he corrected me, which seemed to be one of his favorite things to do.

“Right. Of course, my mistake, Dr. Lambert,” I replied, my tone sharper than the tips of the long red nails now digging into Tate’s elbow. He was too drunk to feel them. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“For what?” Adrian tilted his head, the light rain splattering against his glasses while he did nothing to stop it. Nothing to wipe the droplets away. Unbothered and so fucking arrogant.

“Briarwood. It was a shame, the atrocities they said went down there. Heard you had a hand in shutting them down.” Another polite dance laced with double meaning we both understood. “You’re lucky to have made it out alive.”

“It was a… team effort.” Adrian shrugged, the gesture more nonchalant and less boyish charm as the years passed between us. The way he carried himself and spoke now, much the same. I wasn’t the only one putting on a show for everyone around me.

“Isn’t it always?” I pressed my mouth into a fine line, neither a smile nor a frown. And tugged a little harder on Tate’s arm. “Well, as usual, it’s been a pleasure, Dr. Lambert. But I think it’s time my husband and I mourn in private. You understand. ”

“Of course. I can only imagine what it’s like to bury a parent. Call me if you need anything. Either of you.” Adrian held my glare for another moment before stepping aside, allowing us to brush past him.

I didn’t look back. I didn’t have to. It wouldn’t tell me anything I didn’t know. Because once again, I could feel him watching me.

I kept my spine straight, my gait steady as I guided Tate down the path towards the stretch limousine. Though he was barely conscious by the time I shoved him inside. And it wasn’t because he was heartbroken over the loss of Senior. It was because he was out late celebrating our financial gain.

Tate’s head slumped against the tinted window as he swiped up a bottle from the minibar. This time, I didn’t care to stop him. If I was lucky, maybe he’d drink himself into an early grave.

It wasn’t like it would be a hardship to toss another body in that hole. And wouldn’t you know, I was already dressed for the occasion.