Page 23

Chapter Twenty-Two

The scent of jasmine hung thick in the air as we rounded the corner to find Megan and her media team sequestered in a bush-enclosed patio left of the resort's grand entrance. Jeanette Bilson and the Carringtons were already there, their presence adding tension to the moment. Through a space in the bushes, I could see a crimson ribbon fluttering across the hotel's entrance, where an eager crowd had begun to gather, their excited murmurs carrying across the manicured grounds.

Paula and Bennett stood apart from the others, heads bent close in whispered conversation that seemed to stop whenever anyone drew near. Victor prowled the edges of the patio, phone pressed to his ear, his usually commanding presence fractured by barely contained fury. The loss of his treasures had clearly gutted him. But he wouldn't tell us about that, and we wouldn't ask. My stomach churned with the weight of secrets, but Ethan's words about the robbery echoed in my mind, each syllable a warning bell. One wrong word, one telling glance, and I could bring everything crashing down—or worse, put myself in the crosshairs of whoever had orchestrated this theft.

"Good, you're here and you're both smiling," Megan said as she joined us, her gaze sweeping over us. "Holding hands would be even better."

"We'll do that as soon as we go public," Andrew replied, his voice clipped.

"Fine." Megan's lips thinned. "A few kisses here and there wouldn't be bad, either. Try to look like an actual honeymoon couple. Because right now, I'm thinking I could have paid some models to get a better result."

I felt Andrew stiffen beside me, his previous warmth turning to ice. The unfairness of her criticism burned in my chest. We'd been playing our parts perfectly, dancing on the knife's edge between public performance and private turmoil. I understood Megan's frustration—her carefully orchestrated media campaign was hanging by a thread. But with everything else going on, Megan's wounded pride would have to wait for another day.

Before either of us could respond to her criticism, Victor stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate attention.

"Lauren, Andrew—it's good to see you both," he said. "How are you today?"

"We're good," Andrew said, answering for me. "We saw the fire engines at your house last night."

"Yes. There was an unfortunate incident," Victor replied. "But everything will be fine."

"Hardly fine," Bennett drawled as he and Paula joined us.

"We're not going to discuss it today," Victor said, sending his son a stern look.

Clearly, Bennett and Paula knew about the robbery, but I couldn't quite tell how either of them felt about it. Neither one had seemed to appreciate the collection Victor had built. I think in somewhat different ways, they'd both been jealous of the time he'd spent pursuing treasures, which had probably taken time away from them.

Victor turned back to me and Andrew. "I want to thank you both for everything you've done this past week and will be doing today. You've gone above and beyond the call of duty, especially you, Lauren. Even after everything you had to deal with, you put a smile on your face and did what needed to be done. That's the Carrington way, and I'm immensely proud of how you've handled yourself."

I was touched by his words. "Thank you, Victor."

"Here, here…to Lauren," Bennett said, giving me a few hard claps.

His eyes looked glittery and a little off, his hands unsteady. Had he already started drinking? That didn't bode well for a long day of events.

Apparently, Victor agreed with me because he gave his son a sharp look and said, "You need coffee."

"I need a lot more than coffee," Bennett returned. "But that's probably all you want to give me, isn't it?"

"Paula?" Victor said, giving his wife an impatient glance.

She shrugged. "What do you want me to say, Victor? It's been a long, stressful night."

Victor didn't look happy with her, either, but he put a smile back on his face when he turned back to me. "At any rate, I've spoken to Bennett and Megan about moving you up in the company, Lauren. You deserve a promotion, and as soon as we all get back to work next week, we'll make that happen."

"I appreciate that," I said.

"And Andrew, I've also been pleased with your efforts," Victor continued. "I want you to know I'm going to take a more thoughtful look at your latest proposal. We can go over that next week. I'm sure you're both eager to get on with your honeymoon after today."

I was sure Andrew was more excited about going over his business proposal with Victor than honeymooning with me. And it worried me that this growing connection between Victor and Andrew might make Andrew feel like he needed to stay with me, and I didn't want that to be the reason. Actually, I didn't want there to be any reason for us to stay together, because I was done. I was rather shocked at the finality of that thought, but it was the truth. I didn't trust Andrew anymore, and I couldn't love someone I didn't trust.

"I can't wait for us to work together," Andrew said, offering his hand to Victor, a smug smile on his lips.

I couldn’t help wondering if Victor was shaking the hand of the man who'd robbed him of the things he held most dear.

The next few hours were a blur of photos, interviews, and conversations with an endless number of people I'd probably never see again in my life. Andrew played his part well, and so did I. But as much as we looked like a loving couple, I felt absolutely no connection between us. He never left my side, but his presence didn't feel like protection or love anymore. It felt like a trap, a prison, and I desperately wanted to escape.

After our last event of the day, an afternoon high tea in an oceanfront gazebo with four older women who had apparently paid a great deal for the privilege of meeting the honeymoon couple, Andrew and I finally had a chance to take a break for a few hours before our last event at six thirty.

We'd barely left the gazebo when Andrew told me he was going to meet up with Colin and Jay. I was fine with that. I needed time away from him and everyone. Then my phone buzzed with a text from Megan, and I realized I was not going to rest yet.

Megan wanted to meet me at the lighthouse so she could show me the setup and talk to me about my hosting responsibilities for the cocktail party. She said it wouldn't take long, but she needed me to come now. I texted back that I was on my way, but I wasn't with Andrew. She said she only needed me.

Lucky me , I thought with a sigh. Turning around, I headed down the path toward the old lighthouse that stood on the edge of the resort property, high upon a hill. I hadn't been inside yet, so it was probably good to get an idea of the layout. Because of the interior size, only ten guests would be joining us, which was great. I was enjoying the smaller groups much more than the bigger events.

As I walked up the path, I sent Ethan a text, asking him how he was feeling, and if there was any news.

He didn't text back, which was disappointing, probably more disappointing than it should be.

But Ethan felt like my only real friend these days. I hadn't heard from Harper since we'd spoken yesterday. Jamie had pretty much disappeared, although I'd seen her in passing at the ribbon cutting. She and Brad had gone to the other side of the island for a few days to rest and relax. They'd been on the vacation I should have been on.

But this was almost over. A few more hours and then I could get back to me, if I could remember who that was.

As I passed the villas that were still under construction, I saw yellow tape across the entrance to the model villa where Allison had apparently fallen. That sent a shiver down my spine, another reminder that she was dead, that she had lost her life on this pretty island. It chilled me to think about it, and I was happy to move past those buildings.

The path grew more picturesque as it wove its way through a grove of wind-twisted cypress trees, their shadows lengthening in the late afternoon sun. Sea birds circled overhead as a salty breeze lifted my hair off the back of my neck, and I wished I could simply enjoy the day. Soon, I told myself. This really shouldn't take long.

As I came through the trees, I saw a road coming from another direction that ended in a small parking area in front of the old lighthouse. The building rose before me like the beacon it was, its white and gray weathered exterior showing its age. It had been built almost a hundred years ago, and it was no longer the island's primary lighthouse. The more modern building was on the north side where the cargo ships passed. This one was more decorative than functional, although its slim tower still rose proudly into the sky.

I remembered writing marketing copy for this lighthouse. I'd called it historic, romantic, a perfect spot for sunset viewings, but I'd written those lines based on photos, not the real thing, and I had to admit it was much prettier in person.

As I approached the building, a gust of wind rattled the old storm shutters. And when I got closer, I could see fading paint and brass fixtures turned green with age. The door looked heavier than I expected, its old wood worn smooth by decades of oceanside weather.

I hesitated at the bottom of the short stairs leading up to the entrance. The late sun caught the lighthouse's windows, turning them into blazing squares of light that revealed nothing of what waited inside, and I felt fear creep down my spine, but that was silly. This was just another party venue, and Megan was probably waiting impatiently for me to arrive.

The door creaked as I pushed it open. "Megan?" My voice echoed in the circular room, where old navigational equipment lined the walls, and brass fixtures gleamed in the late afternoon light that streamed through salt-crusted windows. A spiral staircase wound upward, its iron steps disappearing into the shadows above. "Are you here?"

"Lauren?"

It was a man's voice that wafted down the stairs. "Bennett?" I asked in surprise.

"Come up to the office," he said.

I moved up the stairs, getting a little dizzy as I made my way up the narrow circular steps. Finally, I got to a landing and saw an open door leading into the lighthouse keeper's office. Bennett was standing behind an old wooden desk, a half-empty bottle of whiskey next to a file folder in front of him, a glass in his hand.

"Hi," I said warily. "I'm looking for Megan."

"Yeah, she's not coming," he replied. "Come in. Close the door."

I stepped further into the room, but I didn't close the door. "What's going on, Bennett?" I didn't like the angry, somewhat wild look in his eyes.

"It's time you and I had a talk, Lauren. Past time, actually."

"About what?"

"Well, it's not about a promotion," he said, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a long swallow. "That won't be happening, in case you're wondering. There are a lot of things that won't be happening."

I felt uneasy at the dark edge in his voice. "I should go."

"You're not leaving yet." He leaned down to pull something out of a desk drawer.

I froze in shock when I saw the gun in his hand. "What—what's going on?" I asked, fear running through me. "Why do you have a gun? Why did Megan ask me to come here?"

"I told her I wanted to talk to you about your future at the company. And I have a gun because you're not going anywhere."

"We can talk back at the resort, where it's more comfortable. In fact, we should have this conversation with Megan. She's my actual boss. And, clearly, you're upset about your father's suggestion that I be promoted. We can discuss that. There's no reason to be upset."

"Nice speech, Lauren. You're not as stupid as I thought, or maybe you are, because you're here, even after all the near misses you had this week."

I swallowed back a growing lump of terror in my throat as he took another swig of whiskey and then slammed the glass down, making me jump.

"What's going on, Bennett? Why are you so angry?"

"Didn't you ever wonder why my father wanted to throw you such an elaborate wedding? Why you were suddenly the centerpiece of a marketing campaign that would cost the company ten times more than any campaign we'd ever run? Why you were invited to the private events? You, a marketing rep, a nobody…but there you were rubbing elbows with the richest people in the world."

His jealous rage thickened the air, and I knew I had to tread carefully, or he was going to blow up. Obviously, his anger had been building for a while, and I suspected the alcohol he'd consumed had taken it to an explosive level.

"The campaign took on a life of its own," I said slowly. "But if you're unhappy about what was spent, talk to your father. I had no say in it."

"You think he'd listen to me? I don't. He's selling half the hotels in our group. I found that out earlier today from one of the people he's selling a property to. He lied about those sales being a rumor. He's selling off my inheritance because he doesn't think I can run the company. I can do a hell of a lot better than him. He's so obsessed with his precious art that he's been siphoning money we need for the company into his collection. I'm not going to tolerate it anymore. I'm not going to be treated like I'm no one, like I'm less than you."

"I'm sure your father doesn't think you're less than me."

"Oh, but he does," Bennett said, so angry his voice shook. "And I'm not going to let my inheritance be cut again." He shook his head as if convincing himself of what he needed to do. "Today, I take charge. My father thinks I'm a weak alcoholic addict who is stupid and out of control. He doesn't believe I'm a worthy successor, but I am more than worthy, and I am not going to wait for him to give me anything. I am going to take it. I will not lose what I am owed."

I didn't understand why his anger with Victor was pointed at me. "Why are we having this discussion? This is a family matter. And if you're taking control of the company…" I still didn't think that would happen, but I wanted him to believe I was buying his story. "Then you don't have to promote me. In fact, you can fire me now and never see me again."

He gave me a smirking smile. "I wish it was that easy, but it's not. You were right when you said this is a family matter. I discovered this weekend my family is bigger than I thought." He opened the file folder on the desk and pulled out a black and white photo, pushing it toward me. "Look at that."

I didn't want to get closer to the desk or to the gun in his hand, but I didn't have a choice. I took a few steps forward and stared down at the picture that appeared to have been taken in a photo booth. There was a man and a woman hugging each other and mugging for the camera, their smiles bright, loving. My gaze narrowed, my breath coming faster as I realized the man was a much younger Victor Carrington, and the woman…

My heart stopped. No, it couldn't be…

"You recognize her, don't you?" Bennett asked.

"I—I'm not sure."

"Yes, you are. Tell me who that is, Lauren."

"It looks a little like my mother," I said in confusion.

"It is your mother, Sarah Gray."

"I don't understand," I said, turning my gaze to him. "My mother didn't know Victor."

"Oh, she definitely knew him. In fact, she knew him intimately." He pushed the rest of the file across the desk, and I looked down at what appeared to be a legal document, an addendum to Victor's will.

"What is this? Why are you showing me your father's will?"

"Because he's not just my father." Bennett gave me a hard look.

"What are you talking about?"

"Look at it. Look at your name on the document, Lauren. My father had a secret daughter, and he recently made an addendum to his will so that you will get a share equal to mine upon his death."

Shock ran through me at his words, and I put my hands down on the desk to steady myself. I wanted to say he was wrong, but I was staring at my mother's face, looking at legal papers with my name on them.

How could my mother be in a loving photo with Victor Carrington?

How could I be his daughter?

The questions ran around and around in my head, creating panic and anxiety. I could barely breathe, barely think, but I had to think.

My mom had never mentioned she knew Victor, much less that she'd dated him or slept with him. And my father had died in a car accident before he knew she was pregnant. He hadn't abandoned me. He'd never known about me.

Why would she lie about that?

As soon as the question ran through my head, her entire story fell apart.

She'd lied because she'd had an affair with a married man, gotten pregnant, and was probably ashamed. But she had to have told Victor about me. Otherwise, I wouldn't be in the will. Why hadn't he said anything all this time, all these years?

Again, I came up with an answer I didn't like.

Because he hadn't cared enough about me to be my father. He hadn't wanted to know me, and he sure as hell hadn't wanted anyone else to know about me, at least not until after he was dead.

"Are you finally getting it?" Bennett asked, taking another swig of whiskey, drops of it sliding down his chin. "In case you're having trouble doing the math. I'm thirty-one. You're twenty-seven. I was four years old when you were born."

I shook my head, still not wanting to believe what I was looking at. "You have to be wrong. My dad was killed in an auto accident. He was a construction worker. My mom said his name was Gary."

"Did you ever see a picture of Gary? Did you meet his family, his parents?"

"He didn't have a family." I felt like a fool repeating her lies, because that's clearly what they were. I felt sick to my stomach. "I can't believe she made up a story about my father."

"Bravo," Bennett mocked. "You finally caught up. And to think you're the smart, committed employee my father is so proud of. It's a joke."

"But your father never told me I was his daughter. Why would he keep it a secret? Why would my mother do that? Why would she pretend she'd never even met him?"

"I'm sure he paid her off."

"I doubt that. I didn't grow up with money. I had no privilege. I wasn't entitled, like you."

"Well, you're entitled now. Because Daddy is changing his will, so you get half of everything." He paused. "I have to say, I didn't believe it at first, either. I thought she was trying to play me, but then she gave me the file, and all the proof was right there in front of me."

"Who are you talking about now?" I asked.

"Allison. She told me everything."

"Allison?" I echoed. "How the hell would Allison know? Where would she get the photo, the file? Maybe it's all fake, Bennett. Maybe she was conning you." I latched on to that theory with desperation.

"I thought the same thing at first, but the papers aren't fake, and there's a note in that file you haven't read yet from my father, expressing remorse for not taking care of you. Since your mother died, he wanted to make sure you ended up with something. That's why he was changing his will now."

"With something? With money?" I demanded, rage running through me. "But not with him acknowledging I am his daughter? My God! Everything I've gone through this week. I could have died twice, and he never once acted like he was anything more than a concerned employer, but I'm his daughter, and he almost lost me at sea, and that wasn't enough to make him say something?"

Bennett seemed to enjoy my confusion and even more so, my disgust at his father—our father. "Well, he's never been father of the year. But I've had to deal with him putting me down for thirty-one years. I've paid my dues. I don't give a shit that he hasn't told you anything, that you're his secret shame. I care about his money and the inheritance that is supposed to be mine. That is the only reason I still talk to him, and I will not let you have a dime."

I didn't need to ask him how he was going to prevent that, because the gun in his hand was a very strong clue.

"I know exactly how to stop that from happening now," he continued. "You are going to have yet another unfortunate accident, Lauren. You came here early to check out the venue at Megan's request. When you got here, you ventured too close to an old wooden rail. As you grabbed the rail, it broke. You slipped and fell to the ground, just like poor Allison did. The caterers will probably find you when they arrive around six."

My breath caught in my chest as I saw the crazy and proud light in his eyes and realized one horrific fact. "You killed Allison?"

"She killed herself. She got too close to the edge of a balcony. It was her own fault. She shouldn't have gone out on that deck. There was a warning sign. But she was determined to get a job from my father, so she pushed things too far, and let's say she slipped."

"Because you forced her to slip." I saw the truth in his eyes. "Why, Bennett? Why would you want her dead?"

"She wanted too much for this information. She had to go. And so do you."

I swallowed hard. "You can't do this, Bennett. Think about it…I'm your sister. Are you really going to kill your own sister?"

"You're my competition," he said coldly. "I'll never get what I want now that our father is fascinated and impressed by you. I wondered what the hell he was thinking, spending so much money on you, and then it all fell into place when Allison showed me the file. He wanted to give you the perfect wedding because you are his daughter. That's why everything had to be five-star, first-class. He didn't do it for the campaign. He did it for you. He did it out of guilt."

Shaking my head, I said, "That can't be true. He never cared about me before. If he had, he wouldn't have kept me a secret…he would have been there for me."

"He couldn't admit you were his daughter. My mother would have left him, and a divorce between them would have cost him too much. That was always her leverage. He needed her money."

"I thought it was his money. The company was started by his father."

"Who basically bankrupted it. He convinced my mother to invest her trust fund in the company, and she agreed, as long as he never left her, never divorced her, never embarrassed her. That's why he couldn't publicly acknowledge you until he was dead, until he didn't care anymore about his business or his collection. Actually, let me change that order to collection and then business. Do you know how much of our company's money he has spent on old manuscripts and swords? It's ridiculous. And I have no idea what he spent on that diamond…" Bennett shook his head in disgust. "And then he didn't even have the brain power to protect it from being stolen."

"Were you part of the robbery? Was that your way of getting back at him? Steal what he loves most? Keep it for yourself? It makes sense."

Maybe Ethan and I had both been off base. Maybe Andrew had never been involved in any of it, and it had always been Bennett, who hated that his father loved his collection more than he loved his son.

"Let's go," Bennett said, waving his hand toward the door.

"Where?"

"Up the stairs to the viewing deck. We'll spin your accident like we spun Allison's tragic fall, which we're now referring to as a mishap. That was a good word Megan came up with. She's a hell of a lot more valuable to our company than you are. You're just going to be another mishap. Walk."

"And if I don't?"

"I'll shoot you right here."

Our gazes clashed, and I saw the murderous intent in his eyes. "If you shoot me, no one will believe it was an accident."

"No, it will look like murder, but I've planted some information that will tie Andrew to Allison's death, so it won't be difficult to pin this on him, too. He has motive to get rid of both of you. Allison was his ex. You two were fighting. You caught him cheating, and whatever… There are plenty of narratives we can tell."

"What kind of information did you plant?"

"Stop stalling. Move or I shoot!"

Neither choice was good, but one gave me slightly more time to think of a way to escape. I walked toward the door, my mind racing as I searched for an option. But there was no way I could sprint down that narrow circular staircase and get away from him or a bullet, so I had to go up to the viewing platform.

Bennett was right on my heels every step of the way, the gun pressing hard into my back, the smell of alcohol on his breath making me want to gag. He was definitely drunk. Maybe he wasn't as rock steady as he should be. Maybe I could find a way to shove him over the railing and save myself.

When we reached the circular viewing platform, I saw the broken rail, the empty space, the long fall awaiting me, and I stopped abruptly, panicked at what was coming. Bennett pushed me forward. I stumbled from the force of his hand, and it brought back memories of another shove, the one on the swim platform.

"Did you push me before?" I asked, turning back to look at him. "When we were on the yacht? Was that you?"

"No. That was Allison. I told her if she got rid of you, I'd pay her double. But she failed. You survived. You're quite good at that."

"And Sally, my horse? Did you throw a rock at her?"

"That wasn't me. That was Allison. She wanted to scare you and show Andrew what a weak person you were. And that's enough questions."

He forced me to take another step forward, then another, until I was almost at the edge, and terror ran through me. I didn't see any way out. This might really be it. Bennett had already killed once. He would do it again. I looked over my shoulder, giving him an imploring look. "You don't have to do this. I won't accept the money. I won't acknowledge Victor as my father. You don't have to worry about me. I don't care about the inheritance."

"He cares. And I don't trust you. You'll say anything to save yourself."

I saw a shadow slip onto the deck. Then someone came running out of the shadows, moving so fast that Bennett didn't hear him. A gun came down on the back of his head. Bennett's eyes flew open in shock as he fell at my feet.

My jaw dropped when I saw who had taken out my attacker.

"Andrew," I breathed, looking into my husband's beautiful blue eyes. A tremendous relief swept through me. "Oh, my God! You're here!"

"Looks like I got here just in time."

"How did you know where I was?"

"When you weren't in the suite, I called Megan. She told me Bennett was meeting you here."

"You saved my life—again," I said in amazement. Maybe I'd been wrong about him. Maybe I should have never lost faith in him. "Thank you." I moved into his embrace, closing my eyes as he gave me a long hug.

As we broke apart, he picked up Bennett's gun and tucked it into his waistband, while he still kept his weapon in his hand. That made me wonder when and where he'd gotten a gun. I hadn't seen it in his suitcase when I'd unpacked for him. And why had he brought a weapon here? Had he known I was in trouble?

Suddenly my relief turned to wariness.

"Let's go inside," Andrew said.

I was more than happy to get away from the broken railing, so I followed him down the stairs. He stopped at the landing and waved me toward the office.

"I'd rather get out of here," I told him.

"In a minute. I need to show you something."

I didn't think I could handle any more surprises, but he was blocking the stairs, so I went into the office. Once inside, Andrew grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the desk.

"What are you doing?" I asked, seeing the hard look in his eyes, feeling the tension in his grip.

"It's over, Lauren."

There was a finality to his words that renewed my anxiety. "The marketing campaign?"

"Our love affair."

There was no smile on his face now, no warmth in his gaze, just icy coldness. He might have saved my life, but something was off. The man I'd fallen in love with was gone. Maybe he'd never really been there at all. "Okay," I said. "Can we talk about it at the resort?"

"I'm not going back to the resort. You might not be, either, but that depends on a few factors."

"You're scaring me, Andrew. Could you put the gun down?"

"I'm afraid I can't. Sit in the chair behind the desk, Lauren."

"Why?"

"Just do it," he bit out, pulling me toward the chair, then letting go of my hand long enough to shove me down on the seat. A second later, he pulled something metal out of his pocket, cuffing my right wrist to the arm of the chair with a motion so quick I barely registered what he was doing. I stared down at the metal cuff in shock, then back up at him. "Now what?" I asked.

"Now we wait."

"For…"

"Your father to come."

My heart leapt against my chest. "You know who my father is, too?"

His answering smile had once dazzled me, but now I saw past the sparkle to the evil. He might have saved my life, but that was only because he needed me to be alive for some reason…a reason I was about to find out.