Insidious (6 page)

Yet, before I could be blown away, Brody again kissed my forehead and brushed my cheek with his. He pulled me into his warm embrace and held me as I melted into his side. Without hesitation, I laid my head on his shoulder and drifted to sleep.

“Vik,” Brody’s startled voice pulled me from the depths of slumber.

Oh shit!
Despite the open drapes, blackness filled the suite. “Fuck! What time is it?”

“It’s after midnight.”

My head spun as I threw back the covers, rushed from the bed, and searched for my clothes. “I need to go.”

“Where’s your car?”

My car?
“Fuck! It’s at the hospital.”

Brody reached for my hand, his words slow in comparison to the mayhem in my sleep-dizzy mind. “It’s all right. If he questions you, tell him you were at the hospital with Val.” Brody reached for his slacks and continued, “You two were discussing the new cancer clinics when she was called to help with an emergency. You fell asleep waiting for her to return.”

My eyes widened as I secured my dress. “That’s good. I just need to get Val on board.”

“Will she be?”

I shrugged. “She’s my sister. We look out for one another.”

“Let me drive you to the hospital.”

Nodding, I reached for my purse and pulled out my phone: two missed calls from Travis. It figured. If it weren’t Stewart, it was his informant: his eyes and ears. Oh, well. I would deal with it in the morning. There was nothing I could do now.

As we walked toward Brody’s car, I asked, “How did you come up with that alibi so fast?”

“Why, Mrs. Harrington, I’m your attorney. It’s my job.”

“MISS CONWAY?”

Travis, the man who’d come to get me, had moved without my realizing it, walking toward an elevator. Hurriedly, I stepped to catch up to him, reaching him just as the doors opened. The control panel held only one button: PH, which I assumed meant penthouse. A million questions swirled through my mind, but from my limited experience, I didn’t believe that this driver would be the one with the answers.

Since I’d agreed to attend this meeting that my parents had arranged, I’d been given no more information. All I’d received was the outfit to wear with a note telling me that my presence was imperative for all of our futures.

Attempting to hide my uneasiness, I did my best to appear calm and stay quiet in the small, uncomfortable space as the elevator ascended toward our destination. When the doors opened, the most stunning view and exquisitely decorated living room was before me. The tall windows illuminated the room, overpowering the light-colored furnishings with the intense blue of the sky and sea.

“Thank you, Travis, I’ll take Miss Conway from here.”

I turned toward the woman’s voice. About my mother’s age with short blonde hair and soft blue eyes, she didn’t give me the same uncomfortable feeling I felt from Travis. Before I could speak, she reached for my hand. “Welcome, Miss Conway. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Lisa. If I can be of any assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I’m sorry, Lisa, where am I? Whom am I supposed to meet?”

Her eyes opened wide. “Miss Conway, you’re here to see Mr. Harrington. We’re in his Miami penthouse. Surely you recognize the city through the windows.”

My heartbeat approached a normal cadence with her honesty, and I glanced again toward the windows. “Yes, I recognize the city. I just didn’t know where
in
the city I’d been brought.”

Her expression softened as she asked, “Would you like to freshen up before seeing Mr. Harrington? If not, he is ready to see you.”

Lowering my voice, I asked, “Lisa, who is Mr. Harrington, and why does he want to see me?”

Concern danced across her expression. “Miss Conway, I’m not sure why you haven’t been informed. Perhaps it would be better for Mr. Harrington to explain.” She squeezed my hand. “After you speak with him, I’ll gladly help clarify anything I can for you.”

Uncertainty and apprehension twisted in my empty stomach. I was suddenly happy that I hadn’t eaten. Swallowing the growing lump in my throat, I squared my shoulders, and replied, “I believe I’m ready to see Mr. Harrington.”

“You look lovely, dear. Let me show you to his office.”

I followed as Lisa led me through the large white living room. Lush green plants and accents in the hue of blue complemented the tile floor and white leather furniture. With the color of the ocean outside of the windows, it all flowed together beautifully. The tile changed in shape as we approached a long hallway. I couldn’t help but wonder how big the penthouse was; however, before I could give it much thought, Lisa paused. Looking me in the eye, she whispered, “Harrington Spas and Suites, International. Perhaps you weren’t to know that yet, but I believe it would be beneficial for you to know whom you’re dealing with.”

Before I could respond, she turned away and knocked on the door. My mind was a blur. Of course I’d heard of Harrington Spas and Suites: it was one of the most exclusive hotel chains in the country, probably the world, since Lisa had said
international
. The main reason I knew about it was that my stepfather Randall’s medical practice had an exclusive contract with the Miami Harrington location. According to my mother, it was a very sought-after account. The fact that Randall had been involved in securing the partnership was an accomplishment that my mother felt the need to flaunt at one of our rare dinners.

I also remembered hearing something about Harrington Suites in one of my classes. The academy that I attended prided itself on its college-preparatory classes. An introduction to business was essential for the children of the elite. In one of those classes I recalled a discussion about transitions in business and the repercussions when a family-owned business was passed from one member to the next. As I recalled, Mr. Harrington’s father started the Harrington Suites a long time ago, but when he passed away, his son—the man behind the door—inherited the controlling shares of the company. He created an uproar by wanting to modernize the already successful chain. There was more than a little trepidation on the part of the board of directors. Nevertheless, the younger Mr. Harrington stuck to his guns and included spas in all of the facilities. From what I’d read, they were remarkable top-of-the-line spas.

As I heard the greeting of
come in
from behind the door, I tried to remember the news reports I’d seen and the biography I’d been required to read. Funny, at the time it didn’t seem important. Now, I’d give anything to have retained more. I did recall reading that the younger Mr. Harrington grew up with the world at his fingertips and had quite the reputation for living life to its fullest. I also thought I remembered that his wife passed away at a relatively young age. Nevertheless, by today’s standards, they’d been married for a while.

When the door opened, I stood dumbfounded.
That was Mr. Harrington?
I’d expected him to be older. It wasn’t that he was young, like me, but I was expecting ancient. He looked like he was perhaps forty, give or take a few years. He definitely looked younger than my parents, and my mother spent a lot of money and time with her plastic surgeon to look as young as she could. Immediately, his gaze went to me and a grin came to his lips. “Miss Conway, Victoria…” He extended his hand as he came around his desk. “…I’m so glad we were able to make this work.”

I took in his casual attire—jeans and white t-shirt—and suddenly felt overdressed. Though the heels gave me height, with each step he took toward me, I felt smaller and smaller. Next to him, my five-foot-six-inch frame was dwarfed. He had all the tell-tale signs of a man who lived in Miami, the sun-kissed skin and blonde hair.

Yet, all I could wonder was why on earth would this well-known business owner want to see me?

Slowly I accepted his hand and looked down. Instead of shaking mine as I’d expected, his grasp lingered. The warmth of his touch was in stark contrast to the cooled air within the penthouse suite. When I lifted my gaze, his deep-set blue eyes devoured me, as his grin broadened. My insides twisted again as the fine hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention. Unabashed by my obvious trepidation, he leaned back and scanned me up and down.

My discomfort grew with each passing second. With my hand still in his, I turned for help, looking for Lisa. Perhaps she’d show me some sign of support or reassurance. However, as I turned, all that I saw was the door as it closed, leaving me completely alone with this man I didn’t know. Summoning any strength I could find, I worked to articulate without fainting. “Mr. Harrington, I’m afraid I don’t know why I’m here.”

His mouth twitched as he cocked one brow. “Miss Conway, is it usual for you to frequent unknown places for unknown reasons?”

Was he amused by my discomfort?

Freeing my hand, I gripped my purse and squared my shoulders. “No, Mr. Harrington, it is not. As a matter of fact, I’m a bit uncomfortable. Please tell me what this is about or I will leave.”

“I believe you should hear me out.” He gestured toward me. “I mean, look at how beautiful you look. You’re all dressed up.”

Blood rushed to my cheeks.

He stepped back and casually leaned against his desk. “Let’s start with you calling me Stewart. Formalities seem unnecessary.”

Unconsciously, I closed my eyes and sucked in my lower lip. My body trembled with uneasiness as I tried to understand what was happening. Before I could speak, Stewart cupped my chin and lifted my eyes towards his.

His ease with touching me made me even more uncomfortable. I stepped back and replied, “Stewart, I don’t know—”

His tenor dropped. “Victoria, your parents and I have discussed an agreement to resolve a situation they seem to have gotten themselves into. I find it interesting that they apparently didn’t feel it was necessary to fill you in on your role.”

I did my best to remain stoic, mistakenly believing that I could no longer be surprised by my parents’ actions.

He continued, “They have arranged for you to settle their debt for them.”

Settle their debt?
“I don’t know what you mean… I don’t have money…”

My words trailed away as he once again secured my hand and led me to a sofa: one that I’d not even noticed until that moment. Once we were seated, he said, “Victoria, we are to wed.”

“What?!” I pulled my hand away. “I’m not marrying anyone. I haven’t even graduated from high school.” Stewart was almost as old as my parents. There was no way in hell I was marrying him or doing anything else with him.

Smirking, he went on, “I realize that wasn’t exactly a romantic proposal. I’ll be honest: I’m not looking for romance. You may or may not know that your family is a bit dysfunctional.”

Dysfunctional? He had no fucking idea.

Though my nerves were stretched to the point of fraying, I tried to quiet the hysteria in my mind, as I comprehended the idea that I could never have possibly foreseen this, or that once again, I underestimated my parents’ ability to ruin my life. Fighting my flight response, I gave Stewart Harrington my full attention and calmest voice. It was a trick I’d taught myself as a child, a way to appear calm to others when in reality all hell was breaking loose on the inside.

“Stewart, I’m eighteen. I don’t have to do anything my parents say. I make my own decisions.”

“Yes, you do. You won’t be forced to accept this arrangement, but before you decide, I recommend you hear the entire story.”

Fine, I’d hear him out.
Years of private education and finishing school taught me manners. I’d hear him out, and then politely tell him to fuck off.

“Your stepfather has an affinity for gambling. He has made a few bad choices.”

Yes, like thinking that I’d ever be willing to sell myself to save his ass. The scenario was too obscene to comprehend. “I don’t really care what Randall has—”

“Victoria, don’t interrupt until the facts are out there.”

Taking a deep breath, I nodded.

“As I was saying, Randall likes to play the horses and dogs and well, anywhere he can place a bet, he does. Your mother has a secret, too. She may have kicked the alcohol, but her new drug of choice can be as equally destructive. It’s shopping. She’s been known to spend a hundred thousand in an afternoon. The two fuel each other. She needs his winnings to support her addiction. That all works well, as long as Randall wins. When his streak first ended, he thought he could gamble his way out. That’s what happens with the addiction. Every next bet has the potential to save both him and his reputation. However, as you can imagine, since we’re sitting here, it hasn’t worked. Each bet dug him deeper and deeper into debt—”

“Randall is a doctor. He makes good money.”

Stewart’s gaze darkened at my interruption.

I didn’t care if he approved of my speaking or not. This was my life and my future we were discussing casually, like a movie or book. I needed clarification. “I still don’t understand…”

“Perhaps you should try listening?” he said, somewhat condescendingly.