His expression firmed. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
Ophelia watched him disappear into the bathroom.
The weight of the secrets she held seemed unbearable.
Thinking of how long he’d held onto many of those same secrets, she wondered how he’d managed to withstand it.
When he emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp from the shower and towel slung low around his waist, Ophelia wished fervently that they didn’t have to go.
She wanted to stay there with him, safe in their bed.
It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to anticipate that the night would go badly.
They would be walking into a room that, at least in Ophelia’s mind, was full of vipers.
High society snobs who would look down their nose at the housekeeper’s granddaughter marrying into the family that employed her were the least of her concerns.
Melina Tate would be there.
Claude would be there.
And somehow, she would have to be able to camouflage the fact that she was not drinking the champagne that would flow freely.
It was a veritable landmine.
While Vincent dressed, she put the finishing touches on her makeup and added another pin to her hair for good measure.
It never wanted to stay up.
Before the night was half over, it would all be falling down.
When Vincent handed her the wrap that matched her dress, she knew that there was no escape.
“This feels like a bad idea. I just keep imagining all the ways that things could go wrong.”
“Nothing will go wrong.
I’m just going to have a conversation with Marvin Tate and then we’ll come home. I’d rather be here with you anyway.”
They went outside to the waiting limo.
Vincent typically didn’t use a driver, but he’d hired one for the evening.
She’d been in limos before.
While Thomas had grown more and more ill, they’d been his preferred mode of travel.
Still, it was a reminder of just how much her life had changed.
The money, the luxury, none of it mattered to her.
All that mattered was the man beside her and what their future held.
Moving through the Garden District, they headed toward the large country club that had played host to so many events over the years.
She’d accompanied Thomas to many of them, and had watched Vincent from across the room as he steadfastly ignored her.
At least now, she understood why.
She also had a new appreciation for why he’d been so adverse to being in a relationship.
Vanessa was many things, including a liar, but everything she’d said that day had the ring of truth to it.
“You’re very quiet,” he remarked.
“You seem nervous.”
“I just don’t trust these people, Vincent.
If Claude has told Vanessa about the will, who else knows?
What else do they know?”
He shrugged, his features shadowed inside the vehicle, his expression unreadable.
“We just have to see what goes down. If Claude has violated the nondisclosure agreement, then we’ll just go into damage control mode.”
“Damage control?”
“I don’t mean that the way it sounds. Whatever happens, I don’t have any regrets about where you and I are right now.
But when it comes to the business, the stockholders may not be as inclined to entrust the fate of their investment to something as precarious as whether or not we can make a relationship we were forced into work.”
Would his feelings about that change when he found out she was pregnant?
The conversation they’d had a few weeks earlier came back to her.
He’d told her he couldn’t see himself as a father.
Feeling sick, more with nerves than anything, she grew quiet again as they approached the club.
Her feeling of trepidation only increased as the car rolled to a stop. When the driver opened the door, she drew a deep steadying breath and allowed Vincent to help her from the car.
Placing her hand on his arm, she allowed him to lead her inside, ignoring the curious stares of those present.
“It will be fine,” he promised, leading her to where
Justin stood at the bar, looking dapper in a tux.
Ophelia had never considered it before, but there was no resemblance between them.
Did he know?
What would it do to them if that secret came out?
“Ophelia, you look stunning,” Justin greeted her.
“Vincent doesn’t deserve you.”
Vincent smiled. “I’ve never denied that. Why don’t the two of you dance while I go talk a little business with Marvin?”
Justin took her hand and led her to the dance floor, but Ophelia could only watch as Vincent walked away, heading for what she knew would be an ugly confrontation.
“Stop worrying,” Justin urged.
“You know what’s going on?” Ophelia asked, surprised.
“Vincent wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important—and since he’d never willingly do business with Marvin, I can only assume this has something to do with Claude.”
Ophelia confided in him then, needing to feel that they at least had someone there on their side.
“Claude’s been embezzling from the company.
Paying the same amount for all the linen supplies for the hotels, but substituting them with cheaper products from Tate.”
Justin spun her around on the dance floor, a smile on his face, but his eyes sharp.
“That seems a bit sophisticated for Claude.
He’s a bully and an ass.
Strategy has never been his strong suit.”
She smiled in spite of everything. “I said basically the same thing.”
“Vincent can handle this. Whatever is going on, he will find a way to make it work.
He has this instinct about what’s best for the company, and for all of us.
He always has.”
“There’s more, Justin.
Claude shared some very sensitive information with my mother—she can’t be trusted.
Not at all.
She’ll exploit this for everything it’s worth.
I told Vincent part of it, but I couldn’t tell him the whole truth.”
He shook his head.
“There are too many damned secrets in this family.
Secrets about our parents, secrets about Thomas.
Secrets about me, and yes I know all the ugly truth and all the rumors. If it all came out, I swear, I’d feel nothing but relief.”
“Do you really mean that?”
“Yes,” he said emphatically, and the sincerity in his green eyes was compelling.
“Secrets do nothing but create misery.
The truth, as bad as it can be, is never worse than living with the fear of exposure.”
“When did you get so smart?”
“While you were busy mooning over my brother,” he quipped, spinning her again.
“And I thought I had been so subtle,” she protested.
Justin laughed.
“Please, the two of you were about us subtle as dynamite!”
Deciding to change the subject, she asked, “Have you heard from Kaitlyn?”
“Just one phone call.
Apparently, that’s part of the plan. Thomas felt that if we continued to lean on one another, we would never learn to stand on our own.”
Fearing the worst, Ophelia asked, “When are you leaving?”
“Next week.
I met with Stanley yesterday. Thomas must have been in a foul mood when he envisioned this torture for us.”
“Where are you going?”
“To revamp, renovate and revitalize a haunted inn.” He sighed.
“You hate the hotel business!”
“Thomas knew that.
He said I hated the mundane day to day stuff, and I hated the grandiosity of our hotels—and I do.
He was right about this.
The letter said that this was to test my mettle and see what I had to give to a hotel on a smaller scale.”
“Where?”
“Some place in Georgia.
I don’t even remember the name of it,” he added with a shrug.
“We’ll miss you.”
He laughed again. “You two are so wrapped up in each other, you won’t even notice I’m gone.
That’s how it should be.
You all need this time to figure it out for yourselves, independently of Thomas’ meddling.”
The song ended and another one began, but they kept dancing.
Neither of them had any desire to talk to anyone else there.
It was all a waiting game until Vincent got the confession he needed and then they could all leave.
~~****~~
Vincent found Marvin out on the terrace, along with Claude.
The two of them abruptly stopped talking when he appeared.
“Thick as thieves,” he observed.
“That phrase has taken on a whole new meaning for me now.
When were you going to tell me that you’d already let Tate take over supplying our linens?”
Claude shrugged.
“I hadn’t planned on telling you.
That’s why we tried to broker this deal.
If he could have taken over the contracts, I wouldn’t be unemployed now.”
“You’re damn lucky you’re not going to prison—Embezzlement…Fraud.
Not to mention that you used those funds to buy into Tate Textiles, expecting them to turn a corner when the contract went public.
The SEC would be very interested to know who else your broker shared that information with,” Vincent informed them.
“What do you want?” Marvin demanded, while Claude remained stonily silent.
“I want the money returned to the company.
You’ll each meet with the accountant I hired to track your criminal activity and you’ll work out a payment plan to repay generous loans that we made to you in order to keep a local business afloat.”
“That would break us!” Claude shouted.
It was Melina who appeared then. “Claude, keep your voice down!”
Vincent turned to her. “And you.
I’m very interested in what your role in this was. We all know Claude isn’t the brains of this operation, and somehow I doubt your father is either.”
She smiled coolly.
“Fine.
It was my idea.
I convinced Daddy to approach Claude with the plan...That was before Thomas became ill, when he was essentially an absentee CEO.
It was easy enough to conceal—and when Thomas passed and Claude told us what the terms of the will were, well things had to take a dramatic turn.”
“Such as?” he asked.
“Ask your wife. Ask her about all the secrets her mother now has access to.
It seemed somewhat apropos to utilize her white trash upbringing as a means to bring her to heel.”
Turning to Claude and Marvin, she said, “You all can go inside.
I can handle this.”