Page 6 of Unleash Hades (Ungoverned Spaces #5)

I had been too open with Gavin years ago. I had told him too much. My suspicions about Richard’s mistress, my remorse about my sister, and how much I loved my boys. How I made choices that hurt every day.

“We’ll get him, Calissandra,” Gavin said, leaning forward. “I just… needed to be sure your head was in the right place.”

Gavin knew a thing or two about compromised morals.

I nodded solemnly, feeling the dread seep in. A dread I had learned to feel over the past two decades. It was the voice inside my head that told me I would never win, that fighting was useless.

Still, here I was… that disgusting sense of hope still alive inside me even when it had no right to be there.

The day passed. Gavin and I worked side by side, chasing leads, making phone calls about stories that had nothing to do with the drama of my own existence.

I could distract myself with the suffering and injustice elsewhere.

Sometimes, even being to shed light on something, and spur a little bit of action felt like I could pay a penance for my own sins, and my own disastrous choices.

“Don’t you worry,” Gavin said. “Everything will be alright.”

“Don’t be stupid, Calissandra. Hope is the opiate of idiots,” my inner voice chastised, bringing me back down to my reality. Back to the despair that was my normal living.

But what good was despair? Where would that leave my boys? Chloe?

No, I had to try. Not because there was hope, but because the other option was to do nothing. And something was better than nothing.

It had to be.

“Anything in particular I need to look for? Everyone’s hard drive has a ton of useless information. Is there something that should alert me?” Gavin tapped a wrinkled finger on the table, before clicking on the pad of his laptop to wake it up.

His desktop was a picture of his late wife, her white hair pulled in a ponytail, as they hiked the Pacific Coast Trail the year before she died. Her dying wish.

“Marseilles,” I said, finally. Letting the name leave my lips like a French speaker, instead of the fake English voice that I had forced on myself. “Look for anything that points to Marseilles.”

I bit my lower lip, remembering the day Richard came home.

Then the police, when they showed up at the door, telling us that a body had been fished from the water. No signs of foul play… No autopsy.

I hoped that the Marseilles waters had been warm, compared to the Hudson. I hope in her last moments… she found peace in our motherland.

“We’ll connect the dots,” Gavin said quietly, his eyes growing distant as he nodded, his lips pursed. “And then it’ll be the end of it.”

“Don’t tell me anything over the phone,” I said, keeping my voice as low as I could make it. “I think he’s bugged mine.”

Gavin lifted a bushy white brow, and smirked. “It’s not my first time, sweetheart.”

“I know,” I blushed. “But I have to say it anyway.”

“When do the lads turn eighteen?” Gavin asked, as astute as ever.

I never told him that I was waiting for my sons to be legal adults before leaving Richard. He just pieced it together. He knew my marriage was in shambles long before I did. Back when I was still young, naive, and believed that love and work could hold a marriage together.

“Two weeks,” I said, with a gentle smile. “Then they’ll be off to Cambridge.”

“Ah, the two scamps have decided to stay together after all.” Gavin smiled. “I suspected they would.”

Gavin liked my sons. He was their metaphoric uncle.

“Of course!” It never crossed my mind that my boys could possibly be separated. Not for any time.

“Not the same major though,” Gavin guessed.

“No,” I smiled fondly at the thought. “Romulus will study Medicine, and Remus wants to study business.”

“You’ll need to watch out for Remus,” Gavin frowned. “He’s got a lot of his father in him.”

That wasn’t a compliment.

“I know,” I said, coming to my feet. And like clockwork, the corner office on the floor opened.

In a crisp, bespoke navy suit, Richard Davenport left his office, his leather briefcase in hand. His cold eyes scanned the room until they landed on me. It was like the terminator acquiring its target.

It felt like a red laser dot from a sniper rifle, heating the center of my forehead. One flinch, and it would kill.

Richard didn’t walk - he strode – towards me as he checked his custom Parmigiani Fleurier watch.

“Darling,” Richard’s voice floated like a poisonous cloud. “Are you ready for dinner?”

He was very proud of his corner office and had fought tooth and nail for it after my father’s death. He had done a victory lap, celebrating his acquisition, all the while ignoring that I had lost my father.

He drew power to him and sucked me dry.

The shares that came to me, naturally, became his. Because my sister never voted and couldn’t care less about Laurent Media, he was always unopposed. I suppose that was my fault, too. I had sent her away.

It was for her own good, even though I couldn’t tell her. I still hadn’t told her. But she’d forgive me, one day…

Un espoir encore plus stupide? More stupid hope, huh?

Shut up.

Goosebumps prickled up my arm, and at the nape of my neck. I was like a dog sensing danger.

Gavin gave him a nod in greeting, which Richard did not return. He was too good to see anyone who was not a shareholder or on the executive level. He still called his current secretary by the last secretary’s name.

It wasn’t a power move like in The Devil Wears Prada. He simply could not be bothered.

“Going somewhere nice?” Gavin asked, tilting his head and staring right at Richard.

It was a game he liked to play - a means of irritating my husband. Talking to him, even as Richard refused to see him.

I hid my smile.

“Yes,” I answered after an uncomfortable silence. “Dinner with some investors at Le Bisous.”

“Fancy!” Gavin slapped his hand on his thigh in approval. “You’ll need to tell me how it is. I’ve been meaning to–”

“Darling, we must get going,” Richard said, looking at his watch.

“Of course, my love,” I said, giving Gavin an apologetic look.

I came to my feet, grabbed my purse, and turned towards the elevators.

My husband would not be questioned or delayed. He had no patience for such things. And I had become very good at not making him angry.

“ Ahem ?” Richard coughed behind me, and when I turned, he had a lifted brow.

I remained stone-faced and didn’t shut my eyes with dread or roll them with irritation, though I felt both things in equal measure. I didn’t grimace when I stepped to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and coming to my tiptoes to lay a kiss on his smooth cheek.

I was his wife. I had to “kiss the ring”, or the cheek, so to speak.

He looked at me up and down, and I knew he found me wanting.

In an office where many women vied for his attention in pencil skirts and heels, I looked like a bohemian in leather boots, cotton blouse, and loose wool trousers.

My hair was in a simple ponytail, when all the other television personalities around us wore coifs as chic as any member of the Royal Family.

I wore no jewelry. Not even a wedding band. Then again, neither did Richard… we were far too “cosmopolitan” for something like that.

“Couldn’t you have made some effort?” he complained as he called up the elevator.

No, I couldn’t have. Because I had no intention of looking good for his benefit. Or the shareholders, for that matter.

“I’m a war correspondent, my love ,” I practically puked out the words with a saccharine, fake sweetness that burned like fresh, heated caramel.

“No one cares what I look like.” I ran a hand down his silk tie, as though I felt some great affection for him.

Then I smiled, looking at him from beneath lowered lashes.

“And you look good enough for the both of us.”

That had been my technique all along. Defiance, but with a compliment.

“ I care,” he said, his tone deep, and grave. “A man wants his wife to look decent. You are a reflection of me, after all.”

That’s how he saw people - based on his relationship to them. That was where he derived people’s value.

“I suggest you do a little better for these meetings.” It was a suggestion, and a command.

“Darling…”

“I don’t want to argue about this, do you, love?” He said through his straight, clenched teeth.

I froze.

He had used those words before.

He leaned towards me, placing his mouth near my ear. Like the reptile he was, he darted his tongue out, licking the shell of it as I shivered in disgust.

My husband was no more attracted to me than I was to him. I had worked hard on it. But he was attracted to power. He loved nothing more than to impose his will on the unwilling. That was his true aphrodisiac.

“Yes, darling. I’ll make an effort.” I pushed out in a whisper, because I knew - I knew - that silence would not do. “For next time.”

Don’t shake. Don’t show him you’re afraid. Don’t show him anything.

Richard looked at his watch.

“Don’t wait up for me tonight,” he said. “I’ll be back to the office after dinner.”

Back to the office. Back to his mistress’ apartment. Wherever he was going, I was relieved.

“Of course,” I said, nonchalantly, as the elevator descended the long distance to the ground floor.

“And I might not be back for breakfast,” he added.

He was going to see his mistress, then.

A pang of bitterness pierced my heart. It had been almost fourteen years since Adelia. Fourteen long, lonely years…

“Hmm,” I said, acknowledging him. “The boys will be disappointed.” I was obliged to say that, even though it wasn’t true. “It’s their first weekend home.”

“I’ll see them later.”

No, he wouldn’t.

“That would be wonderful.” I smiled, as if we weren’t dealing in lies.

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped through.

We walked silently through the lobby, and I gave a curt nod to the security man at the front desk and said, “Have a good evening.”

Richard didn’t stop at all but walked straight to the town car, with me running to catch up.

He was one of those men… the kind who walked with no regard for others and assumed that everyone would hop out of his way. And for the most part, they did. My little girl heart had once thought that was masculine, and strong. Now I saw it for what it was… he was just an arsehole.

I dodged pedestrians as they crossed the sidewalk and slipped into the open car door, closing it behind me.

“We should talk about consolidating our voting shares,” Richard said, coolly. “We should get Chloe to sign hers over.”

I stiffened.

“Oh?” I asked, feeling dread pit in my stomach.

Remember the cold water. Remember Adelia. Remember what he can do…

“If your sister does not wish to take part in the Media Company, then she should give up her shares. It won't affect her income. It just allows us more freedom to make decisions with the company.”

Allows us to make more decisions. Was that a joke?

He wanted to make decisions with my shares. If he got control of Chloe’s then there’d be no way to keep the company out of his filthy hands. My family legacy would collapse. And it would be all my fault.

No, his fault.

No… my fault.

“Well, that might be a little difficult,” I said, looking out the window, trying to look calm as the world passed by. All the while, my pulse beat in my ears, threatening to drown out the sound of traffic and engines, and Richard. “After all, Chloe hates me. She always has.”

She had loved me when she was young. She had been my little gift.

The stinging in my eyes threatened to blow my cover. I choked the feelings back with a cough.

“She didn’t seem to hate you at Philippa Fox’s wedding.” He pursed his lips and looked at his watch. It wasn’t so much about looking at the time, but bringing attention to the extravagant, expensive item.

He was prying for information. He wanted to know what we talked about, if anything. What had he missed while I was waiting in the hall, with my sister and… him.

“She was being polite,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You know her, she’s all about appearances, and acting like Mother Theresa.”

My sister was the best person I knew. She always had been.

“Hmm.” Richard turned his eyes toward me.

I felt the heat of his stare on the side of my cheek.

“Try anyway,” he finally said, his voice taking on that tone.

A tone I had heard twice before. The first time was after Marseille, when he spoke of Adelia.

A second time in London, when he spoke to me.

“I’m sure you can figure a way… if you really wanted to.

And shouldn’t those shares belong to us, anyway?

Then we can truly take control of our company. ”

Over my dead body.

My cold, dead, pale body.

Ice. Pain. Blood.

Screams.

I swear by Hades, I will put a knife in this man.

I smiled, turning my head towards my husband.

“Of course, my love,” I said, reaching out to graze the back of his hand with my fingertips. “Anything for you.”

He smiled then, reaching out his long tendril fingers, and pinching my chin between his index finger and thumb. I tried not to grimace.

He said, with a crooked smile. “I hope nothing ever happens to you.”

He placed a cold kiss on my forehead. Paternal. Strange. Condescending. There was no love in it.

“You and I are a team like none other. A team that our peers and contemporaries wish they had.” He casually leaned back in his seat, waving his hand as if we were in a high tower, and there were people below us.

That was how he saw the world, didn’t he?

Everyone was a peasant, and he was above the rest. “We’re like…

Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry the VII. Contentious, but still a unit. A marriage.”

Of course, he’d see himself as a King. Delusions of grandeur were the means of a narcissist.

“Like a Lion in Winter,” he said, smirking. “My own Katherine Hepburn.” He touched my cheek. “A force to be reckoned with, but in the end, we are together.”

I smiled. A forced, pulled smile, as visions danced through my mind. Adelia, pale and lifeless. Me, bloody and bruised. My sons as babies, crying for their mother…

“What ever happened to that cute little French accent you used to have?” he asked out of the blue.

I killed it along with the rest of my soul.

“I don’t know, darling. I suppose I learned to be a little more like you.”

And there was nothing in the world he disliked more than people who were just like him.

“I love you, Calissandra,” he said, leaning down to kiss my forehead again.

I shut my eyes, momentarily transporting myself to another place, another time… with another man. To when I still understood myself…

I opened my mouth to push out the words that I had to say, “I love you, too… Darling .”