Risking Trust (8 page)

“Do what you need to, Roxann.”

Max had shut down. Done talking. Silent treatment mode would continue. “I
will
do what I need to and I hope you and I will come out okay. I don’t want you mad at me.”

He stayed silent for a long moment and she wondered if he’d hung up.

The silence dragged on. A battle of wills. Time for a subject change.

“How about lunch one day this week?” Maybe if she could see him face to face they could make nice. Losing her father had been devastating enough without the added stress of Max being absent from her life.

“Okay,” he finally said. “Call my secretary and set something up.”

She clicked the phone off, slid into a chair, threw her head down on the table and rolled her forehead over the cool surface. Max being mad was a mine field. You never knew when you’d step in the wrong place and get blown to bits.

“Just so you know,” Roxann said when she strolled into Michael’s office dressed in a black pants suit that made her legs look five miles long, “your lobby guards barely stopped me. Haven’t you been nagging me about beefing up my security?”

Michael tossed his pen on the desk and sat back in his chair. “The difference is I told them you were coming and to send you right up.”

She stopped, scrunched her nose and said, “Oh.”

He laughed. “Yeah.
Oh
.”

That got him an eye roll, which, right now, could have been a badge of honor in the Roxann-verbal-sword-play challenge. Damn, he’d missed the banter.

He waved her to a chair. “Have a seat.”

“So,” she said, folding those long legs and taking a look around. “This is your office.”

“Yep.”

“My office used to be this neat. I’m working on getting it that way again.”

Small talk. He shrugged. “Transition is always tough. Then again, you could be Vic. His office is a war zone.”

“I can’t work that way. Too much clutter.”

“Rox?”

She took a huge breath, let it out. “Yes?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

In the span of three seconds, her gaze darted to the window, came back to him and went to the window again.

“I
don’t
want to do this. Not for one second. Not even out of curiosity. But I’m going to. There are plenty more reasons to do it than there are not to.”

He stood, circled the desk and leaned on the edge just to her right. “No one outside of the photographer, Alicia, the judge and our divorce attorneys has seen these photos. I have not turned them over to the P.D. My attorney advised me to hang on to them for the time being. I can deal with that. Oddly enough, it doesn’t seem fair to let the city Alicia loved see her like this.”

It had taken a long time to deaden his nerves to the sight of the woman he had married with other men, but he still wasn’t willing to let the public glimpse into their life. The downside was too big.

“Michael, it would take a lot of pressure off you to turn the information over.”

“Or, it could get worse. All that bad behavior? People will think I finally snapped.”

Roxann bit her lip. “Didn’t think of that.”

He shrugged. “Listen, if it helps at all, I’ll let you look through the photos alone. I’ll stay at my desk and you can work at the table.”

She glanced to her left to the small conference table with four chairs. He’d already pulled the two boxes of files from his safe—Vic called it the vault—and stacked them beside the table. The idea of Roxann going through the photos made his chest ache. Two women he’d loved in different ways and now, the one he’d never completely let go, had to study the evidence of his colossal fuck up of a marriage.

“Those are the boxes?”

“Yep. Two-and-a-half years of Alicia Taylor’s life.”

She rose from her chair and moved to the table. “Wow.”

“You probably don’t want to tackle it all in one sitting.”

She didn’t answer. Only stared at those boxes. After a minute, she pulled her suit jacket off and draped it over one of the chairs. Ready to dig in.

Michael boosted himself away from the desk and returned to his chair. This wouldn’t be any easier on him than it would be on her. Did humiliation ever sit well with anyone? He doubted it. But then, Roxann had always accepted him without passing judgment. For that alone, he’d adored her. Hopefully, she still had a little of that left in her. “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll order something. We’ll probably be here awhile.”

After flagging several items to be looked at again, Roxann closed the file marked April and pushed it to the side. Each folder had to be over an inch thick and she would have to read through all of them. Two-and-a-half year’s worth. It would take days. She rolled her aching shoulders.

She glanced at Michael, still at his desk, shirt sleeves rolled while he dealt with something on his laptop. His five o’clock shadow had come in and she suddenly remembered his need to shave twice a day if he were going out for the evening. The memory of scraping her fingers across his beard stubble roared back as if it had only been a day ago. How many times had she curled into his lap and dragged her hand over his cheek just to feel the texture? At twenty-three it had made her feel she’d had a real man by her side. One who would protect and take care of her. One who would stand by her when things got rough. He’d done neither by walking away and eventually marrying the woman in these photos.

Michael must have sensed her study of him. “You okay?”

Maybe she should ask him how he could have looked through these files. His
wife
had carried on blatant sexual affairs with prominent men and there were photos—explicit ones—to prove it.

Roxann blew out a breath. “Have you seen all of these?”

He didn’t answer, but wandered over to the table, sat and pawed through one of the boxes until he found a specific folder. After setting it on the table, he propped his chin in his hand, but continued to stare at the folder.

“This one is the worst,” he said. “We’d been separated a few months when these were taken. She’d already started in on accusing
me
of all sorts of crap—adultery, emotional abuse, alienation of affection—you name it. None of which I ever did. Well, alienation of affection maybe. By the time we’d separated I could barely look at her, much less touch her. I’d decided to put someone on her to protect myself. And my money.”

“Probably smart on your part.”

He tapped the folder. “This was when I knew how vindictive she could be. Any good feelings I had left got blown to hell when I saw this folder.”

Yikes. Morbid curiosity forced Roxann’s gaze to the folder. In comparison to what she’d already seen, what could be that bad?

Michael put his hand flat on top of the folder. “I’ll give you a few minutes to look through it and then, if you want to discuss it, fine. If not, we’ll let it go.”

What was with all the cloak and dagger stuff? “Should I be prepared for something here?”

He shrugged. “These are photos of Alicia with a man you know. I’m not sure how much that man matters to you.”

Right off, she could eliminate her father and Max because Michael knew what her relationship was with them. Those would be two men she’d have a whopper of a time understanding having any involvement with Alicia Taylor. They simply wouldn’t do that to her.

Roxann reached for the folder. Might as well get it over with.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“You’re fine,” she said, because whatever was in this folder couldn’t be that bad. There just hadn’t been any men in her life over the last few years that meant that much. At least there hadn’t been anyone she’d completely given herself over to, taken a risk on. No, her personal life was pretty much one big safe zone. The past twelve years had been about order and control and becoming a good publisher. It was easier than dealing with her feelings for the man in front of her.

Truth of it was, she had enough baggage floating around to accommodate four divas on a shopping spree. She just never wanted to admit it to herself.

She flipped the folder open and saw the first photo of Alicia, dressed in a low-cut and exceedingly tight black cocktail dress, her long blond hair falling over her shoulders in fat waves. An absolutely stunning woman. The glammed up look wasn’t quite to Roxann’s taste, but there was no denying why men had been attracted to her. In the photo, Alicia spoke with a man and a woman. The man wore a suit and the woman a sequined dress. Clearly some type of event. Roxann checked the date. June. Almost two years earlier. She flipped to the next photo.

There he was.

Senator Neil Findley. Roxann had dated Neil for six months, but eventually found herself to be more eye candy, a political trophy, than someone Neil actually cared for. After all, what senator wouldn’t aspire to be involved with the associate publisher of a major daily newspaper? All in all, Roxann wasn’t feeling the pull of attraction for Neil and ended the relationship.

She checked the date on the photo again and did the math. At that point, she’d been seeing Neil a couple of months.

Roxann spread the next few photos in front of her and dared not look at Michael. She knew his eyes were on her though, gauging her reaction. The photos looked harmless enough, except for the last one where Neil was bent low listening to something Alicia said into his ear. An immediate pulsing started under her skin and Roxann shifted in her seat.

The next photo, taken the following day, showed Neil standing on the front porch of a brownstone. Next photo: Alicia Taylor opening the front door. Next photo: Neil going into the house. Next photo: Neil leaving the house. The time stamp revealed he’d been there an hour.

“He is such a weasel.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

She flipped the folder shut and slid her chair back. “He was sleeping with your wife while he was seeing me?”

“Appears so. If it matters at all, it didn’t last long. It was a few times and then he doesn’t show up again. At least my investigator didn’t catch him.”

“That son of a bitch.”

Not that she’d loved him, but she’d thought they’d had an exclusive relationship. And to have broken that trust with Michael’s wife? Sickness pooled inside Roxann. She’d had sex with the man after he’d been with Alicia Taylor.

Could Neil have known about the connection to Michael? She’d certainly never told him, but he could have learned it from one of his aides when they’d vetted her.

But Alicia. She had to know. Roxann turned to Michael. “Did she know about us?”

He scoffed, “That was the point. When I saw these photos I knew her resentment had consumed her.”

“But why? She had wealth, status, all the things someone like her would want.”

Including the man I wanted.

Michael looked up at her, his gaze steady.
Please don’t let him say something that will make me crazy.

“Yeah,” he said, “but her husband wanted you.”

No. No way, bucko. Roxann pushed her chair back, shot out of it and paced the room. No, no, no. She didn’t want to hear this. Not after all these years. Not when she’d wasted so much time wondering. Not when her emotional state was already being tested with her father’s death. “Don’t do this to me.
You
married
her
.”

Michael stayed seated, his eyes tracking her as she paced the room trying to get rid of the anger and hurt devouring her. She could use a good long run about now. And could he please stop staring at her?

“Rox, I know I was the one that left, but you were in my system. I tried to hide it, but she knew. We saw you and Janie in a restaurant one night. It was after you’d gotten back from Philadelphia and I couldn’t stop looking at you. You were right there and I couldn’t help myself. It was the longest hour of my life. I could have walked over to you and begged forgiveness, or I could have stayed with Alicia, who, at the time, had been good for me. I was finally faced with choosing. Then she asked me who you were and I told her your name. I didn’t give her the details, but she found out. She asked around, I guess. We were engaged by then. She wasn’t stupid and knew from that night in the restaurant I hadn’t gotten over you. But I’d made a commitment to her. Regardless, I don’t think she ever shook the feeling of being my second choice. After we got married, things were good for awhile, but everything started coming apart. When she drank, her need for male attention worsened and that’s when I knew she was on the prowl.”

Roxann could not believe it. “She knew I was seeing Neil and having an affair with him was what, revenge? Against
me
?”

Michael lifted a shoulder. “Mostly, it was for my benefit. She was punishing me for missing you. She wanted me to know that Findley had you and now he’d had her. The fact that it might hurt you was a bonus.”

“A bonus,” Roxann said, her voice thick with trapped tension.

He held up his hands. “By that time, she’d turned into someone I didn’t know.”

She threw her hands in the air. “And you married this woman?”

Instead of me.

She wouldn’t dare say it though. Never. He’d made his choice and now he had to live with it. This woman had been his
wife
. The person he’d chosen to share his life with had humiliated him. Taken other men to their bed.

He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor. Uncomfortable. Well, too bad.

“She was different when we first met. Bold and adventurous. Always on the edge.”

I’m not any of those things.

He looked up at her again and she stopped moving. “At the time, if I couldn’t have you, I thought she would be what I needed.”

What the hell did that mean? “And what? She was the
anti
-Roxann? That’s what you’re telling me?”

He nodded. “I wouldn’t call it that, but yes, she was different and I didn’t have any reminders. In the beginning, we had fun. The fun ended when we got into the day to day of marriage. I was working a lot. She wanted me, but I wanted to build my business. So, in that sense, maybe I wasn’t attentive enough. Three years in, she had her first one-night stand. She marched in at dawn and informed me she’d fucked—her word, not mine—some guy from the benefit she’d attended.”

“Good God.”

Michael shook his head. “Yeah. That’s when things went south. I forgave her though. I believed she was lonely and took it as an act of rebellion. I tried spending more time at home, was attentive to the point where it physically drained me and it still wasn’t enough. There was no making her happy at that point.”

A knock sounded on the door, and Michael answered it and came away with two bags. Dinner. Fabulous. As if she could eat. He brought the food to the table and set it in a corner.

“I screwed up. I’m thirty-nine years old and—” he pointed to the folder, “—that’s what my marriage became. The only reason I showed it to you was because I didn’t want you to get slammed. I wanted to at least try and explain it. Be pissed if you want, but that’s the goddamned truth.”