Page 22

Chapter Twenty-One

The party ended around ten, and we walked back to the main building in silence, my tension increasing with each step. It was easier to be with Andrew in a group than to be alone with him. I was too confused about him to want to be physical, but I was fast running out of reasons not to have sex. My hip wasn't as bad as it had been, and I'd recovered completely from my unexpected swim in the ocean. Andrew had told me he wanted to get back to our honeymoon, and I needed to want that, too, but the truth was—I didn't. But I couldn't say that tonight, not with all the events happening tomorrow. After that, we would definitely have to talk.

Maybe Andrew wasn't as set on getting back to our honeymoon, either, because he had his hands dug into his pockets, when before we'd always walked hand in hand everywhere we went.

Andrew must have read my thoughts because he suddenly took my hand and looked at me, giving me a smile that was nowhere near as dazzling as those he'd showered around the party tonight. But it was clear he was trying.

"Tired?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, not sure how he'd take that answer, but maybe I could use that excuse for at least one more night. "We did a lot of talking."

"Everyone loved our story."

"You've gotten better at telling it. You know all the right points to hit to get the perfect laugh, the perfect ah."

"Well, I've had a lot of practice the past few days," he said. "But it's almost over. After tomorrow, we can put that story away."

His fingers were warm around mine, but I didn't feel the heat that used to burn between us…only a cold dark chill. I knew now that our love story had no substance. It was just a story that I'd told myself.

And we were back to silence again. It lasted until we got into our suite.

As soon as we entered the room, Andrew dropped my hand and headed toward the refrigerator to pull out a bottle of water. I kicked off my high heels and sat down on the couch. He moved over to the dining room table and opened his computer.

So much for getting back to our honeymoon . But as he looked at his computer, I felt relief more than anything else. "I think I'll take a shower and get ready for bed," I said as his fingers moved across his keyboard.

"Sounds good," he murmured, without lifting his head to look at me.

I got to my feet and paused by the table. "Are you working?"

"I have some emails I need to answer. You should get a good night's sleep tonight, Lauren. Tomorrow will be a busy day, the culmination of all of this."

"I know. I'm glad it's finally here." I thought about leaning down and giving him a kiss, if for no other reason than to keep pretending we were a happy couple. But he was focused on his computer, and there didn't seem to be any point in faking a feeling that wasn't there anymore.

I jerked awake, heart hammering. The digital clock said two forty. For a moment, I lay perfectly still, trying to identify what had pulled me from sleep—a sound, a movement, something. The space beside me was empty, the sheets cool to the touch. Then I realized Andrew stood at the window, a dark silhouette against flickering lights that shouldn't have been there.

"What's going on?" My voice came out rusty with sleep as I pushed myself up. "Is something wrong?"

"Looks like a fire," Andrew replied, his tone oddly detached.

"What?" I was out of bed in an instant, crossing to where he stood at the now-open patio doors. The night air carried the acrid smell of smoke, and through the trees, emergency lights pulsed like a crimson heartbeat. Even through the thick foliage, I could tell they were coming from the direction of Victor's villa.

My stomach dropped. "Oh my God," I breathed. "It looks like it's close to Victor's place."

"There's a lot of smoke, but I don't see any flames."

I strained to see through the darkness, but he was right, there were no flames, just clouds of smoke curling through the strobing lights of the fire engines. Still, a wave of fear ran through me. What if something had happened to one of the Carringtons? Would the morning bring another notice that someone was dead? "Should we go down there?" I asked.

"No. I'm sure whatever needs to be done is being done. We'd be in the way." Andrew paused. "It actually looks like the smoke is dissipating. I think they've got it under control."

"I hope no one was hurt."

"I'm sure they weren't. I bet whatever happened is electrical, something related to the power outage earlier tonight. There was probably a short somewhere." He yawned. "I'm going back to bed. Are you coming?"

"In a minute," I murmured, unable to look away from the distant scene. The emergency lights suddenly cut out, plunging everything into darkness. Whatever had happened was over—or someone wanted us to think it was.

A chill that had nothing to do with the night air crept over my skin. I hurried back inside, securing the patio door with trembling fingers. The soft click of the lock felt like false security in a world where nothing was what it seemed anymore.

As I got into bed, Andrew's breathing had already settled into the rhythm of sleep, or a convincing imitation of it. I lay awake in the darkness, listening to that steady sound and wondering if I'd ever trust it—or him—again. I also had the feeling this might be the last night we spent in bed together.

After tomorrow, we wouldn't have to stay together if we didn't want to. Not that we could publicly separate. But we would be done as the perfect Carrington wedding couple, and we could quietly go our own ways.

Where those ways would lead, I had no idea.

Andrew was gone again when I woke around eight o'clock Wednesday morning. His disappearing act had become routine, but today it carried a different weight. No note, no explanation—just tangled sheets that mirrored the mess of our marriage.

Megan arrived as I finished dressing, her usually composed features tight with stress. "We have an additional problem to deal with," she said, barely waiting for the door to close behind her.

"Is this about the fire engines I saw on the property last night?"

"Yes. There was a problem at Victor's villa."

My heart jumped. "Is he okay? Was anyone hurt?"

"I heard the private insurance investigator is at the medical center with a concussion, but everyone else is fine."

The room tilted slightly as I took that in. "What?" My voice caught. "You're talking about Ethan Stark?"

"Yes, and that part is not for public consumption, Lauren. Victor wants everyone to believe there was an electrical problem at his villa, which produced copious amounts of smoke but no fire. Everything is fine now."

"But you don't think it's fine?"

"I suspect there's more to the story, but that's above my pay grade and yours. What I need is a distraction, and that's going to be you and Andrew all day long, selling your story, generating interest and conversation. We don't want any of our events to be marred by what happened at the villa."

"I understand. We'll do whatever you need us to do."

"Good. I texted you both the schedule for today."

"I saw that."

"We'll have the ribbon cutting at eleven thirty, lunch on the patio at noon, resort tours in the afternoon, and a myriad of other social activities for the press and our arriving guests. We're also hosting small, intimate cocktail parties starting at six thirty each night this week in the old lighthouse. Andrew and you will host tonight's party for VIP guests."

"Okay." My mind spun from all the events. "Is that it? Will the lighthouse party be the end of our official duties?"

"At the moment, that's the last thing I have you doing. Where is Andrew?"

"Uh, he went out to grab some pastries," I lied. "He'll be back soon."

"Let him know I need you two to be very engaging. I want them talking about your love story, not what happened at Victor's villa. And try to look like you're infatuated with each other. Yesterday, I could feel the tension between you two, and while it might not be evident in photographs and videos, it will definitely show in person, and we cannot have that."

"We'll do our best. This has been a lot, Megan."

"Well, from what I hear, you're getting a promotion at the end of it," she said, an irritated note in her voice.

"Really? Who told you that?" I asked in surprise.

"Victor said we should reward you for being such a great representative for the brand. So don't let him down. Do your job."

"I will," I promised, excited about a promotion but wondering if whatever came my way from Victor wouldn't turn Megan and Bennett into my enemies. That didn't bode well for a long, successful future with the company. My job security was as fragile as my marriage security.

After Megan left, I grabbed my phone and called Ethan. Each ring stretched my nerves tighter until his rough voice came through.

"It's Lauren." The words tumbled out. "How are you? I heard you're at the medical center."

"I'm waiting for the doctor to release me," he replied tersely.

"What happened, Ethan? How did you get hurt?"

"What have you heard?" His question was careful, measured.

"That there was an electrical problem at Victor's villa that resulted in a lot of smoke but no fire and that no one was hurt but you." I paused. "Is that true?"

"It's the story the Carringtons will tell today."

"Can you tell me what really happened?"

"I don't know, Lauren. Can I trust you?"

My fingers tightened on the phone. "You can trust me, Ethan." My voice softened. "I care about what happened to you. I'm so sorry you got hurt, and I really need to know if Andrew was involved."

"I don't know if he was involved, but I suspect he was."

"Tell me what happened."

"The thieves disabled the villa's main alarm system," Ethan said, frustration evident in his voice. "But they missed something critical—the diamond's display case was on a completely separate circuit with its own power source and cellular connection. At one thirty-seven, that sensor triggered, sending an alert directly to my phone. No one else got it because the regular security network was down."

He paused, then continued, "When I arrived at the villa around one forty-five, I found the perimeter guard unconscious near the back door. His keycard was missing. I called resort security and told Demora to contact the sheriff's office, but I couldn't wait for them all to arrive." His voice hardened. "I should have, though. I'd barely made it inside when the smoke hit me—thick and disorienting. The last thing I remember was a sharp pain at the base of my skull. When I came to, the deputies and resort security were there, and the gallery had been cleaned out."

"Oh, my God! Did they steal the diamond?"

"They stole almost everything. The thieves got quite a haul."

"I don't understand. What about the inside guards? Where were they?"

"Smoke bombs had been planted in the air vents throughout the house and triggered remotely. When they went off, a toxin filled the air that rendered everyone unconscious, allowing the thieves to enter the villa."

"That's crazy." I shook my head in disbelief. "Do you think the blackout earlier in the night was part of it?"

"Yes. That's probably when they set the bombs in the vents. It was a very sophisticated and clever plan," he admitted, bitterness in his voice. "I thought we had plenty of redundancies in our security system and our personnel. But we were outsmarted. And I am so pissed off I can hardly stand it."

"I can understand that. How are the Carringtons and the guests that were staying with them?"

"They're fine. Everyone was asleep when the toxin was released, keeping them asleep. As soon as the firefighters arrived and the house was vented, everyone started waking up. They were disoriented and confused, but, according to Victor, they're all fine. However, as you can imagine, he's very upset about the theft. My employer will be as well. What they took was worth many millions of dollars."

"I'm sorry about that, but I'm really glad you're okay, Ethan. And that no one else was hurt. The robbery is awful, but I'm sure Victor will be compensated for his losses."

"At my employer's expense. I'll be out of a job after this."

"It wasn't your fault."

"It was completely my fault. I approved the insurance on the diamond even when Victor brought it out at the last possible second. I felt confident in the security system, but that confidence was misplaced." He blew out a breath. "You said Andrew was with you all night?"

I licked my lips, realizing I had no idea where he'd been between the time I'd gone to bed and when I'd been woken up by the fire engines.

"Lauren?" he pressed. "You have to tell me what you know."

"Of course. I was just thinking. Andrew and I went back to our suite around ten last night. He was working on his computer in the living room when I went to bed. I woke up at two forty. Andrew was standing at the patio doors. He told me there was a fire, and we went out onto the balcony to take a closer look."

"He could have been gone between ten and two forty then?"

"I suppose."

"What was he wearing when you saw him standing by the patio doors?"

"Uh…" I tried to remember if I had even noticed what he was wearing. "I think he was in black track pants and a black long-sleeve T-shirt."

"Is that what he wears to bed?"

"Not usually," I said slowly. "I think he was in bed before he got up. I feel like the covers were mussed, but I don't know for sure. I didn't really look." I blew out a worried breath. "What time were you hit over the head?"

"Probably a little before two. And you saw Andrew at two-forty dressed in clothes that could have been worn outside."

The implication hung heavy between us.

"He didn't act like someone who had robbed a vault of treasures," I said. "And if he had, why would he come back to the suite? Why wouldn't he have left? Why would the thieves stay on the island?"

"Maybe they didn't, and he did, to avoid raising suspicion." Ethan's voice grew harder.

"But he's taking a risk by staying."

"Are you sure he's actually still on the island? You said he was gone when you woke up. Maybe he just needed you to see him in the middle of the night to provide an alibi."

My breath caught. "I'll find out soon if he doesn't show up for the ribbon cutting at eleven thirty." I hesitated, my voice dropping. "What should I do if he comes back, Ethan? Do I keep pretending? Do I ask him anything? How can I help you?"

"You can help by staying calm and acting like you know absolutely nothing." The steel in his voice softened. "That's what I need you to do. I don't want you to be in any more danger, Lauren. And once today is over, you need to get away from him. I'll help you with whatever you need."

Something in his tone made my heart skip. "I appreciate that." I swallowed hard. "And Ethan, I'm really grateful you weren't badly hurt or worse. Your life is far more important than anything that was stolen."

A weighted pause followed. "Your life is important to me, too." The words came out rough, almost unwilling. "That's why I need you to be careful, Lauren."

"I will." I tried to sound confident. "If Andrew is the thief, I can't see why he'd hurt me now. He has what he wants, and it looks like he might have gotten away with it."

"For now," Ethan said, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl that sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. "But I will hunt the thieves down if it's the last thing I do."

I heard someone outside the door. "I think Andrew is back. I better go."

"Stay safe. I'll talk to you later."

As I ended the call, Andrew walked in, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. He had a white paper bag in his hand and a cup holder with two coffees. "Good morning, beautiful," he said with his usual smile, no trace of tension in his blue eyes.

"Hi," I said, faking a smile in return. Ethan's warning rang through my head, reminding me that I had to pretend like nothing was wrong. "Looks like you got us some treats."

"Coffee and pastries," he said, setting everything down on the table.

He'd made my lie to Megan the actual truth. But truth and lies were a risky thing to discuss right now, so I kept that thought to myself.

"Who were you talking to?" Andrew asked.

"Megan," I lied as I moved over to the table to get my coffee. "She wanted to go over the schedule. She also told me there wasn't a fire last night at Victor's place, just smoke from an electrical problem. All the Carringtons are fine."

"That's good news. Did she say anything else?"

I shook my head. "No. In fact, she said that I should tell everyone exactly that if asked about the fire engines on the property last night."

"Always looking to avoid trouble." Andrew took out a chocolate chip scone and bit into it.

He seemed different this morning—happier, more relaxed—and I was hesitant to guess why. Was he getting over the shock of Allison's death? Was he putting on a front because we needed to get through the day looking happy together? Or was his upbeat attitude the result of stealing millions of dollars of treasure right out from under Victor's nose?

I really hoped it wasn't the latter.

"These are good," Andrew said, waving his scone at me. "You should try one."

"I will. Thanks for picking them up, along with the coffee. That was thoughtful."

"I'm still the same guy you married," he said lightly, as if I'd forgotten.

While he might be the same guy I'd married; I wasn't sure he was the same man I'd fallen in love with.

"I'm going to get changed for the ribbon cutting," he added. "Megan sent me the schedule, too. We have a long day ahead of us, but it's almost over, Lauren. What do you think about that?"

Several answers came to mind, but the first word to come out was, "Relieved. I'm tired of the cameras, the speeches, and always being on."

"You have to admit it's been exciting. Isn't that what life is supposed to be about? Taking risks, pushing the envelope, and living past your own expectations?"

"I guess." I wasn't sure what he was getting at, because he had to know I wasn't a risk-taking, push-the-envelope, live-past-my-own-expectations kind of woman. But he was gone before I could say anything. And it didn't matter. As he'd said, it was almost over. I just wasn't exactly sure what it was…the marketing campaign, the marriage, the con…

Or maybe it would be all three.