Envy Read online

  “Royael deserves a better life.” Looking around the marble flooring, she remembered leaving her briefcase outside. Instead of losing momentum, she snatched a sticky note off his desk. She scribbled on it, flicking it in his general direction. “Put some money in that account for Royael.” And then you can proceed through life without us…

  8

  Liam sat in his chair, a chair made by a luxury Italian car design firm. It always made him confident, helped him handle business associates who attempted to play hardball. The fabric molded to his body. Right then, his chair did nothing to ease his anger from watching a perfect rose with thorns make her grand exit.

  Liam let her name roll off of his tongue. Unconvinced that it was real, he glanced to the cognac snifter at the bar. I haven’t had a sip today.

  Jaw tense, his mind flashed back to her time-stopping beauty. Her blue eyes had turned into a gray storm as she ranted. In my office!

  At first, he’d been amused, hypnotized at her forbidden golden-toned thighs when she sat on his mahogany table. Forget about her attitude. He almost laughed when she’d mentioned Scandalous magazine. If she’d done her homework, she’d have known Delacroix Communications owned it and the complementing television show.

  The letter almost made him snap. “I’d never infer that my child was …” There was no fucking way those awful words she’d used would ever pass his lips. He’d loved Raven, proposed to her—so it was with an antique spoon ring from Pierre’s collection—but he’d promised to get her something better later.

  “I was going to leave my life for her and our baby. This is the thanks I get!” He walked to the silver cart, picked up the drink, and downed it. Liquid fire seared his throat, warmed his body as he remembered the cold letter she wrote. “I just can’t have a baby with you …”

  Each word wove through his brain like a disease as he picked up the crystal bottle and poured another glass. Hell, she’d even added some biblical scripture and finished the story with she was sorry, but she wasn’t keeping it.

  About to pour his third, he stopped. He didn’t want to be drunk. Drinking wouldn’t help him forget how he’d cried reading that letter, how he had torn it up, burned it to a crisp. The ashes, the evidence, had dissipated in the lake at the meadow. Their meadow. The very meadow she was supposed to meet him at to run away. I should’ve gone to the meadow that night. No, I should’ve beat on her bedroom window and demanded she keep my child.

  Liam remembered his first year in Paris for college. Seven months later and still in a numb state of mind, he’d seen a pregnant teen who reminded him of Raven. It gnawed at the anger he’d felt from getting her letter. He’d gotten drunk enough to call her. Even believing she’d already murdered his child, he would still forgive her. Desperately, he needed to speak with the girl he loved. Come to think of it, Raven didn’t have the decency to return the call.

  “Something isn’t right,” he grumbled under his breath. Raven got a letter forged in my name. She was irate about some phantom letter I supposedly wrote. And there was no fucking way Liam would bring up her letter, because she’d been moved in the same manner he had about her letter. He’d already left her before high school. By damn, he needed proof he hadn’t willingly left her pregnant. She probably thinks of me just like Charlene. Fuck.

  Liam’s forearms swiped over tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of scotch. The shattered crystal wasn’t nearly as loud as his contemplation. All these years and Raven had kept the baby. Eyes closing with uncertainty, he leaned back on his table.

  *** 5 Years ago ***

  “Raven is … Sh-she’s pr-pregnant?” Elise croaked.

  “I’m going to Raven’s right now, she is keeping my child!” an eighteen-year old Liam shouted as he stood in the vast courtyard of his parent’s mansion in North Carolina. He held the letter Raven wrote.

  “Liam, please come inside so we can all talk,” Elise said, her eyes flitting from his to her father’s.

  Pierre leaned against the marble fountain, pinching the bridge of his nose. “My son, I do believe Raven needs—”

  “You don’t call me son!” Liam turned to his grand-père. Then he held his hand up to calm his mood—Pierre wasn’t his target. “Grand-père, take Mom inside.”

  He stalked to his Ducati. Before he could swing his leg onto the superbike, Elise grabbed his arm. For a thin woman, she was tall. They stood eye to eye. “Raven is not getting rid of my child. If I have to tie her ass up in one of those rooms—” he pointed to the mansion “—and make sure she takes her prenatal vitamins, and whatever the fuck needs to be done for my child to be born healthy, safe, that’s what will be done. Got that?”

  The sound of his mother’s palm against his cheek rung through his ears, but he didn’t feel a thing. “She is not some animal.”

  “Oh, sure, don’t be condescending, Mother. You’ve always hated Raven, and the disrespect from you stops now.”

  Elise took the letter from his hand. “Yes, I have always wanted the best for you, Liam. And—”

  “And it’s Raven! My best is with Raven at my side, regardless of how she feels now.”

  “Please let me speak.”

  Liam gestured for her to continue.

  “But I am a woman, Liam, and as I reviewed Raven’s letter, I understand that she is a young woman at the end of her rope.”

  He bit his fist. He loved Raven more than life itself, but the fear of them finding out about her pending DNA test scared him shitless.

  Elise’s continued, “Liam, you and I aren’t religious.” It wasn’t a question. It was a fact, yet Elise paused for emphasis. “You’ve always attended church, though Raven was your reason. She is a beautiful girl, obviously. I do believe her God wouldn’t want her to abort. However, I do believe her God wouldn’t want her to have a child out of wedlock with her half-brother. This is a very difficult predicament, Liam.”

  Liam had no rebuttal. True, he’d attended church off and on since he could walk. He knew there was a God, but he’d never visited for that. The moment he laid eyes on Raven as a toddler in church, each and every single time he returned, it had been for her.

  “It’s all in this letter, Liam. The shame Raven feels, and how it’s projected onto you in such an angry manner.” Elise held up the letter, green eyes glossed over, yet no tears fell down her milky skin. “Give her a moment to digress.”

  Liam was silent for a second. When he glanced back at his mother, he thought he saw a split-second of anxiety. Then her gaze was constant once more, empathetic and strong. Who was this woman, too willing to agree with Raven, too nurturing to him. Elise never considered other people’s perspectives.

  “For the first time in my life, Mom, your parental advice holds clout. I know you love me, in your own way. And I have nothing but love for you—we’re just unique about it. So I appreciate your guidance. Raven must be overwhelmed with the pending paternity test with Dad. And we’re young. So let me tell you how everything is going to play out.” Liam stepped closer to his mom, caressing her cheek.

  She pursed her lips, smiling weakly.

  “If Raven never talks to me or sees me again, the same applies to you. I will never lay eyes on you, or utter one single word to you, Mother. Not now, not ever again. And we all know that I’m a man of my word.”

  That was the last day Liam spoke to his mother. Though the letter from Raven hurt him to his core and zapped any confidence he had of going to see her, somewhere deep down, Liam felt convinced that Elise had a hand in everything. Perhaps it was paranoia. Elise was a Delacroix. His family had the ability to play people like chess pieces. But I’m her son.

  Patricia rushed through the double doors. “Are you all right?” she asked, glancing at the amber stains on the white couches and floor. Shards of glass were all over.

  Shoulders tensed, he commanded, “Everything will be fine soon. Clear the rest of my week. Have the jet ready; I’m headed to North Carolina.”

  9

  North Carolin
a

  Liam drove up the driveway of his parents’ French-style mansion. He got out and stopped next to the marble, lotus-shaped fountain, instantly flashing back to the day he threw up in the turquoise water. The worst day of his life, finding out that the girl he was madly in love with was his half-sister. He walked past it, shaking the memory out of his head.

  Jogging up the steps, he rang the doorbell and was surprised to see his dad answer. Jonathan had the same wide-eyed look. His dad had come to his graduation a year ago, but Liam hadn’t noticed his hair graying.

  Weariness floated off of him, making Liam stop in his tracks. Then he felt his father’s arms around him. It took a while to wrap his arms around Jonathan. He let go first, needing to get down to business. There was nothing for him there, no need to dwell on the past. If his father wanted to make a social visit, he could come to Dallas.

  “We need to talk.” Liam gave his dad a hard stare.

  “Yes, of course.” Jonathan led him in the house like a guest. They walked past the double staircase, marble statues, and into an all-white living room.

  “Are you alone?” Liam took a seat on the heavy plush couch.

  “Yes.”

  “Where is … Lucinda?” He barely recalled the maid that worked for his family when he was in high school.

  “She quit.”

  For a moment, his eyebrows bunched together. Something’s missing. Shrugging it off, he asked about the Lemaître Law firm. It was a neutral topic to start with. He didn’t want to go hard on the old man, not until he had more information.

  “Great,” Jonathan said.

  That had to be a lie. He wouldn’t expect to see his dad home in the middle of the week if the law firm did great. Instead of calling him on it, Liam asked, “Do you know about a letter that was sent to Raven stating that I didn’t want our baby?”

  “A letter? No. I don’t know about any such letter.” Jonathan played with the clasp of his Rolex.

  “Are you sure?”

  Jonathan met his son’s eyes for a fragment of a second to repeat himself.

  Liam got up. He climbed the stairs and went down the west wing to his bedroom. He walked in, passing the couch and the aquarium that once held exotic fish. Lying back on his bed, he glared at the intricate molding on the ceiling and thought about his mom for the first time in a while. The words he said to Elise the last time he spoke with her were still tangible. His mom had handed him “Raven’s” letter with Lucinda standing in the background, eyes flitting about. Mixed emotions draped over him like a wet blanket in the snow. His mom would have the answer. If Elise did, then Lucinda did, too. Pulling his cell phone out of his slacks, Liam blocked all thoughts of his mom.

  The trip to Brinton was a dead-end. To clear his mind, Liam took a shower on the plane ride back to Dallas. It was almost five PM by the time he got into his Aston on the tarmac. He still had enough time in the day to drop by Raven’s and see Royael. It had been a little over twenty-four hours since she stormed in and out of his life. To think, he’d been scared as shit, waiting for her call. And ready to run to her and forgive her for her letter.

  As his sports car veered onto the freeway, Liam called an associate, Detective Tyriq Tate.

  “Hey, what happened to poker night?” Tyriq asked when the call connected.

  “I had some out-of-town business. I need you find two women for me.”

  “Hot damn, your last set of ménage à trois good enough for a double down?”

  Liam chuckled and gave him Raven’s information as he moved toward the exit of the private airport.

  “She is hot! Got a bit of road rage and …” Tyriq paused into the phone.

  “What else?”

  “Uh … Nothing,” Tyriq replied nonchalantly, and then he spouted out her address.

  Next, Liam gave Ty Lucinda’s full name and estimated the length of her employment at the Lemaître mansion.

  “Oh, shit, I was expecting another looker. What was that date of birth again?”

  Liam provided the answer. “Nothing like that, she was the old family maid. You might remember her when your mom dropped by.”

  “Dude, your family had a gazillion servants. Nah, I don’t recall. But I’ll look into this one and get right back with you.”

  Not twenty minutes later, Liam’s Aston Martin pulled to a stop behind the Yukon he saw a couple of days before. He got out, noticing a lot of eyes on him. Wrong neighborhood. Liam pressed the lock button, and on second thought, one more time, then went to knock on the door.

  A man with army fatigues and a wife-beater opened it. “What’s up?”

  “Must be the wrong door.” Liam stepped back and looked at the number. The guy looked too comfortable. He didn’t remember Raven wearing a ring, but then again, he had a hard time keeping his eyes on hers.

  “Who you lookin’ for? We all know each other ‘round here.”

  “Raven Shaw.”

  “I reckon you’re at the right spot. Hold on a sec.” A smile appeared at the mention of her name. He disappeared in the house.

  “Liam?” Raven’s eyes widened as she came to the door, staring at his charcoal-gray slacks and button-up. “What you doing here?”

  “You assumed I’d send you money without seeing my child?” His tone was as cold as the hail landing on his pea coat. Those words weren’t meant to be his form of greeting, but she had on teaser pants that hugged every curve and a camisole that accentuated caramel-covered melons. The scent of fresh soap reached out to him; she’d recently showered. It was too chilly a day for her to be walking around like that, but she wasn’t outside. She was inside, probably catering to his needs. He glanced at her ring finger. Shacking up! He let the coldness of the air seep into his bones, let it be his drive.

  “Your child?” Her bangles jingled as she placed a hand on her hip.

  “Yes, are you going to let me in?” he asked, voice still frigid, but he couldn’t help it.

  “I wasn’t expecting you, Liam.”

  “Are you okay, Raven?” The guy was back at the door, but he didn’t have that dimple when he said, “So you’re Liam?”

  Raven cut in. “Stephen—”

  Liam spoke over her. “Yes, I am. Who are you?” He had a feeling that the boyfriend knew too much.

  Stephen stepped out of the house. Just a fraction shorter, he glared at Liam. “I don’t appreciate you coming ‘round here starting nothin’.”

  “Whoa, nobody is starting anything today, and not in front of my house!” Raven stood between them. They stared at each other over her head, neither backing down.

  “Stephen, you need to mind your business!” Liam’s hands were itching to grab Raven around her tiny waist and place her out of the way when she spoke again.

  “Steve, I think you’d better go home.”

  Liam hated every moment of their soft, pawing exchange. Her hand went to Stephen’s chest. As if her touch could pacify an erupting volcano, he backed down.

  Liam watched them near the SUV. Her hips swayed like a rose in a summer breeze. Jaw clenched, he waited to see if she would kiss Stephen goodbye, but she didn’t. He supposed it had to do with him gawking.

  “Hey! Where ya going?” a little voice yelled.

  He turned around to see a little girl zipping by. Royael. The anger boiling in his veins subsided. Time slowed.

  Gorgeous. Her pink tutu swished as she ran. A tiara sat on top her head, long sandy-brown ponytails bouncing down her back. Big, light-brown eyes smiled at Stephen as she jumped into his arms. She planted a kiss on his cheek.

  Temperature rising again, Liam watched Royael mope as Stephen spoke into her ear. Stephen tickled her. Royael laughed—a good laugh. Not the type of laugh that he wanted his child to have with another man. Liam’s body stiffened. Does she call him Dad?

  “Sorry, Royael. We can do Pizza Planet later.” Stephen put the child down.

  “No!” She folded her arms, chubby cheeks puffed. “You promised, so we’re going today!”
r />   “Not today.” Raven placed Royael on her hip as he got in the car.

  Stephen gave Liam a last stare, a warning stare. Liam returned his own. When she walked toward the house, Liam asked, “What does he know about me, Raven?”

  “Enough.” She put her hands over Royael’s ears. “So if you try to kill me just to keep your dirty secret, you’re gonna have to kill him, too. Oh, and it gets harder to stay squeaky-clean while starting a blood trail. Trust me, I know.”

  Liam glared at those frozen blues. Then Raven headed inside with Royael and closed the door. Touching the cold doorknob, Liam turned it and walked in. The living room was tiny, the furniture familiar. He remembered the last kiss they shared on that very sofa back in Bellwood. He followed the sound of Royael’s whimpering, up a narrow staircase and into a door. The room was claustrophobic, smaller than his walk-in closet.

  Royael sat on her bed. Raven knelt on the floor, holding her tightly and rubbing her back. Tears streamed down her face, but she smiled when seeing Liam. Her tone was soft, small, sweet. “Hello, who are you?”

  “I’m Liam.” He heard himself whisper and seemed to float over, kneeling on the floor next to Raven. Heart melting, he touched her cheek. Warm. Real. Alive. Throat constricted, the words barely came out. “I’m your father.”

  “No, no. You’re not my father.” Royael’s big eyes expressed sadness. She hopped up and rummaged around in her top dresser drawer. “Hold on, okay?”

  What did this woman tell my child? Liam looked at Raven. She fidgeted with her thumb and index finger, looking away.

  Royael jumped back on her bed. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she handed him a photo of a wholesome picture frame placeholder model. Crap, her parental lineage had been diminished to a picture frame holder from a discount store. The five-by-seven close-up was of a model dressed in a checkered shirt with a cheesy smile. The man was of mixed descent. “This is my father.”