Revenge: Slay Three Page 2

  Edward’s sharp raise of an eyebrow was my cue. “Of course not, Jeremy. We were just headed inside,” I said, feeling somewhat bolstered by taking command. “You can have our bags delivered to our rooms, please. I’ll see to my own unpacking.”

  “As will I,” Edward added.

  “Very well. May I take your coats?”

  I turned to let Jeremy help me with mine. Edward had brought it to the island for me, thankfully, as the weather in London had been quite rainy and cold when we arrived, much different from what I’d left behind. I’d boarded the plane the night before wearing a light sundress, an outfit that had been quickly shed once my husband and I were in the air. When I’d woken this morning, he’d already left the bed for the main cabin, but in his place, I found leggings, boots, and a sweater laid out for me to dress in. The clothes were a bit more casual than my usual taste, but they were comfortable, and comfortable was what I’d needed today.

  He’d known that. Better than I had known it for myself. As he always did.

  No wonder I loved him. We might still have a lot to negotiate, but that was one thing that was sure.

  “We’ll need nothing else until lunch is served,” my husband said when our coats had been taken, his own command much more natural than mine. “Thank you, Jeremy.”

  Without letting me think about it another second, he pushed past the servant, pulling me along with him through the mud room to the back staircase. “See? You know your place,” he said, his hand squeezing mine as we climbed the steps. “You fit here like a long-missing, last piece of a puzzle.”

  “Is that your way of saying I complete you?” I asked, as we reached the main floor.

  He hesitated, turning to look at me, his mouth half open, his tongue silent.

  The pause was bothersome. Why was there a pause? Sure, he hadn’t ever come out and directly said he loved me, but he’d inferred it in a myriad of ways. He left little doubt of his feelings for me. This should have been an easy comeback. What else was there to say but yes? Yes, Celia, you do complete me.

  Though...could I say that about him?

  The oncoming rush of something small and boy distracted either of us from having to answer.

  “Uncky!” Freddie said, throwing his arms around my husband’s legs.

  Edward swooped his three-and-a-half-year-old nephew up in the air, causing the boy to erupt in laughter.

  It was impossible not to break into a smile at the sound. At the sight. Though deep inside, at the core of me, my womb pulsed with its emptiness. It was an ache that had become recurrent. One that knew I had to learn to ignore. Edward was already in his forties, a decade older than me with two grown children of his own. He’d told me before we married that he didn’t want more children. That he wouldn’t have more. It hadn’t been an issue when I hadn’t planned to stay married to him.

  But now?

  The rest we’ll figure out in time, he’d said. It wasn’t something I had to address today.

  Camilla Fasbender Dougherty, however, was something I had to address today.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Really, Eddie? You brought her back here?” She stood at the door to the salon, her arms crossed indignantly. Apparently she wasn’t any more tolerable of me than she had been the last time we’d been face to face.

  It probably didn’t help that she hadn’t known I’d be here. Which was as much of a surprise to me as my appearance seemed to be to her.

  I turned to stare down my husband. “You didn’t tell her I was coming back with you?”

  “And no wonder that he didn’t since he knew how I’d feel about it.” The remark was addressed to me, but it was meant for Edward.

  Suddenly it was clear that he’d kept more from her than just my arrival.

  “You didn’t tell her about my uncle, either?” I was incredulous. Maybe it was my fault for assuming he would have told her already, but it was an important tidbit of information. Why wouldn’t he have cleared that up with her before now?

  Because he was a sadist, that was why. Because he got off on others’ discomfort, and while I couldn’t speak to how Camilla felt, I definitely wasn’t comfortable right now.

  Edward’s sly smile seemed to affirm my suspicions. His eyes danced gleefully from the venomous gaze of his sister to the equally venomous gaze of his wife. “I thought it would be a better conversation had with the three of us together.”

  “Then you should have told that to me,” I said, angrily. “Edward,” I added, using his name as he preferred, but with contempt.

  His eyes narrowed and his lips drew into a firm line. He’d told me more than once that he wouldn’t tolerate disrespect in front of others, and, for the most part, I found a certain satisfaction in obeying that rule.

  But bringing me into this situation without any warning was disrespectful to me, and he needed to know how I felt about it.

  “Sheri,” he called out, flagging down a member of the household staff as she walked by. “Could you please take Freddie to Anwar?”

  Once he’d passed off his nephew, he wrapped his hand possessively around my waist and drew me tightly to his side. “Camilla, let’s go sit, shall we?”

  She sighed reluctantly, then turned toward the salon. Though the invitation had only been extended to his sister, Edward guided me behind her, directing me to sit on the sofa across from the one Camilla sat in. I expected him to sit next to me, but he put distance between us, perching on the arm.

  I didn’t know if the distance was for Camilla’s sake or his own, but it was probably a wise choice. There was a good chance I would have clawed his thigh with my fingernails if he’d chosen to be by me. He definitely deserved it.

  “So…?” Camilla’s eyes darted from me to her brother, her expression pointed. It was obvious she preferred to have this conversation without me present. It was also obvious that she expected him to be the one filling her in.

  It was probably most respectful for me to let him do just that.

  But he’d had his chance to tell her, and he hadn’t, and since he’d chosen to leave it for my attendance, then, as far as I was concerned, that meant I had permission to step in.

  More accurately, I didn’t need to have permission. I was his wife. I wasn’t his submissive.

  Was I?

  Another thing we had to work out later.

  “I’m just going to dive right in and say I’m truly sorry to be sprung on you like this, Camilla. It wasn’t fair to either of us.” I glared at my husband whose expression was unreadable. “But it particularly wasn’t kind to you.”

  “Don’t be insolent, Celia,” he warned. “That isn’t called for.”

  I scowled at his rebuke, but he was right. Passive-aggressive digs in his direction weren’t going to help my relationship with either of them.

  I got to the point. “Edward has told me the circumstances surrounding your parents’ deaths, and I understand completely why you harbor such animosity toward the Werner name. You’ve both been through a lot, and I’m sure that I would feel the same way if I’d been in your shoes.”

  It was bad enough to have a parent die from cancer. To have the other commit suicide right after was unimaginable. Edward’s father had taken his own life, not only because he’d lost his partner, but also because he’d lost his company in a hostile takeover. To a company my father owned.

  “That said,” I continued, choosing my words carefully. I didn’t want to diminish her history, but it was important she knew the truth. “My father is not the Werner that was responsible for Accelerate being bought out from under your father. Yes, he was the head of the company at the time, but it was my uncle Ron who ran everything that happened in the UK. He took over several media businesses here, dismantling all of them. He had one hundred percent autonomy at the time and was later kicked out of his position because of the poor decisions he made and the direction he’d taken that branch of the company, which was in no way retribution for the things he’s done, but the fact is, it wasn’t
my father. Warren Werner had nothing to do with the fall of your family.”

  She’d listened stoically as I’d spoken, her attention solely on me. But now Camilla’s focus flew to her brother. “Is it true?”

  “Yes,” I said, though I knew it wasn’t me she was asking.

  “It’s all true,” Edward confirmed. “I verified it.”

  I swung toward him. “You verified it? You didn’t trust me?” He hadn’t given me any indication that he’d doubted me when I’d told him. It bothered me to hear now that he had.

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t about trust. It was about needing to see the proof.”

  If there was a difference, I couldn’t see it.

  “How do you feel about discovering this, Ed?” Camilla asked. The tone of the question was personal, and it made me feel like an intruder. Like maybe the conversation would have been better without me.

  Worse, it felt like this was a question I should have asked myself and before now. He may still have been a stranger, but I knew how important his vengeance had been. Changing course this far into his plans had to have been a huge loss. It had to feel devastating, and I hadn’t acknowledged that.

  “Honestly?” He aimed his response at the person who asked. “I feel relieved.”

  I blinked in surprise.

  “Yes,” Camilla said, looking us both over. “I see.”

  What did she see? I didn’t see. What was there to see?

  “Then the two of you are…?” She trailed off, and thank God she wasn’t asking me, because I wasn’t sure I knew the right answer.

  But Edward did. “We’re married, Camilla. We intend to stay that way. Happily.”

  Ah, now I saw. He was relieved because, now that my father wasn’t the bad guy, I wasn’t either. Which meant he no longer had to resist the pull between us.

  I was relieved about that too.

  “You should know we have no secrets between us,” he continued. “Celia knows what my goals are and what lengths I’ll go to in order to see them to the end.” Lengths like marrying a woman with the intention of killing her to get the shares she owned of her father’s company. I wasn’t convinced that he would have been able to see that to its end, the evidence being that I was still very much alive even before he’d found out the truth about my uncle.

  But Edward wanted to believe he would have done anything, and it wasn’t the worst thing to let him have that.

  “And you’re still with him,” she said, finally acknowledging me.

  I looked to my husband with my answer. “Very much so.”

  “She also supports whatever actions we need to take next,” he said. “Or so I believe.”

  “I do,” I said. It was the first time we’d made our declarations of devotion in front of another person, even though we had made similar ones to each other in this very room, when we’d exchanged rings.

  This time we knew we meant them, and the difference sent a bolt of warmth through my chest and heat down between my legs.

  The moment wasn’t appreciated by my sister-in-law. “Your family loyalty runs thin,” she scoffed.

  “No, no. It’s not like that.” I scanned her over quickly, trying to picture how she must see me. How she must see herself in comparison. Though she was the one sitting in a designer jumpsuit, I’d grown up far more privileged than she had. I hadn’t seen them personally, but from what I had been told, I was sure there were burn marks on her skin under her long sleeves, permanent tattoos from an abusive foster father. After surviving that, she’d gone on to lose her husband quite young. Besides her son, Edward was the only family she had, and he had bent over backwards to care for her, not only raising her after he’d been old enough but also taking her in again after she’d been widowed.

  That sort of bond bred loyalty I likely couldn’t understand.

  But it didn’t mean I didn’t feel my own version of devotion. As misguided as it often was.

  “I’m loyal to my parents,” I went on. “And Edward knows the lengths I’d go to—have gone to—for them.” My own lengths included marrying my father’s rival with the intent of ruining him in order to win my father’s love. Not a healthy loyalty by any means, but I wasn’t sure any of us in the room knew what a healthy relationship was.

  “Ron is another situation entirely. He’s…” I searched for the words to describe his sins, how he’d groomed me and treated me like his doll. How he’d sold parts of my innocence to his rich friends. “Let’s just say he’s not a good person. And whatever wrath Edward plans on unleashing on him, it is likely only a portion of what he deserves.”

  Camilla met my eyes, and though it was tempting to put up my guard, I forced myself not to. She kept my gaze for several beats until her features eased and her head nodded, and I wondered if she saw what I had wanted her to see. Wondered if she understood how much we had in common. How we’d both been hurt by the very people who had been tasked to care for us. How we both loved a man who had tended to us in unorthodox ways.

  “It’s a shift in the narrative, I know,” Edward said, the tenderness in his voice wrapping tendrils around both me and his sister.

  “It’s a huge shift,” she agreed. “Forgive me if it takes me a minute to get my bearings.”

  “Take your time. But understand that Celia is part of my life now. She is my wife. This is her home, and I expect that to be appreciated.”

  “I know how to be respectful, Eddie.” Her retort was soft, full of affection despite her words. “I never interfered with the arrangement you had with Marion. I can behave. As long as you can assure me this relationship is in your best interest.”

  “She’s not Marion,” he said firmly, and though I didn’t understand the meaning of the remark, it whipped into my new baby skin. “But she’s not Frank either. And neither am I.”

  The next few comments whizzed by me as I tried to find a thread I could follow.

  “Glad to hear it, but I’ve never thought you were,” Camilla said.

  “You haven’t?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I did.”

  “I’m that despicable, perhaps, but the malice I feel is always earned.”

  They shared a smile. Whatever had transpired in the exchange, they’d reached some understanding. An understanding that I felt very much left out of.

  “Who’s Frank?” I asked, hoping one of them would loop me in.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Camilla said, her head turning to peer out of the salon and down the hall toward the bustle at the front door. It sounded like someone arriving or a delivery maybe. Nothing half as interesting as the conversation she’d dismissed.

  Before I could make another attempt to pursue it, she stood. Her height when standing was intimidating, to the point that I rose too. “As I said before,” she stated, “this is a big alteration in my thinking. Since Eddie took me in, hatred of the Werner name has been drilled into me.”

  She’d spoken to me directly this time, and the words lashed as harshly as the mention of Marion. I knew and understood where she came from, but I was still who I was.

  Or maybe I wasn’t anymore.

  Because Edward really had torn me down to nothing, and what was left in my place was still unknown.

  But this newbie did have a name. And it wasn’t the one I’d grown up with.

  “Good thing I’m not a Werner then, isn’t it?” I said, the comeback a beat late but true enough that the hit landed.

  “Yes. Exactly right.” She smiled earnestly and held out her hand, which I took without pause. “Welcome to the family, Celia. I look forward to the new war ahead of us. I hope you don’t find the burden of being a Fasbender as heavy as those before you.”

  It was a strange thing she’d said, and I opened my mouth to ask what she meant, but before I could say anything, Edward’s children were in the room, greeting us enthusiastically.

  “We’re not too early, are we?” Genny asked as she hugged her father. “You didn’t say what time to be here for lunch, and w
e wanted you to have time to settle.”

  “No, not too early.” Edward beamed at her.

  I smiled as well, despite wanting to kick the man. If I’d known he’d invited his kids over, I would have insisted on changing into something more presentable as soon as we had arrived. Had that been his plan with the clothing he’d laid out? I’d thought he’d chosen my outfit so I’d feel good in my surroundings. Now I wondered if he’d intended just the opposite.

  “It’s good to have you home,” Genny said when she turned her greeting to me. “Father’s been miserable without you.” She embraced me and I was surprised both by her words and the warmth of her welcome.

  “I’m not sure he isn’t just as miserable when I’m around.”

  “Well, that’s true enough,” she agreed with a laugh that both Hagan and Camilla shared with her.

  When their amusement died down, I excused myself to change, though somewhat reluctantly. There was a pleasant aura in the presence of Edward with his children. It was an aura I wanted to feed on like a vampire, as though their bonds could nourish the empty parts of my existence. As though it could complete me like I longed to be completed.

  But it was a false completion. It was a puzzle piece that looked like it fit, but didn’t quite, and as I paused at the foot of the stairs to gaze back at the bunch, I ached for what they had. Could I ever truly belong to that? Would Edward ever truly let me in?

  I wasn’t sure.

  I wasn’t sure I should even accept it if he did. There was too much lacking between us that I wasn’t convinced would be fixed with time. Too much uncertainty.

  It wasn’t just the clothing or the way he could never say outright how he felt. It was also the way he’d set me up with Camilla. The way he hadn’t prepared me for his children’s visit. The way he said I fit in but continually made me feel like I stuck out. Was his behavior natural hesitation around a new relationship or was it part of his constant need to keep me on edge?

  That was the thing with Edward—it was impossible to know if the way he manipulated my life was for my benefit, or his. I suspected it was often a combination, but how could I be sure? To borrow Camilla’s concern, how did I know what he did was always in my best interest?