Page 88 of Nothing Breaks Like A Heart

But this was almost over. A few more hours and then I could get back to me, if I could remember who that was.

As I passed the villas that were still under construction, I saw yellow tape across the entrance to the model villa where Allison had apparently fallen. That sent a shiver down my spine, another reminder that she was dead, that she had lost her life on this pretty island. It chilled me to think about it, and I was happy to move past those buildings.

The path grew more picturesque as it wove its way through a grove of wind-twisted cypress trees, their shadows lengthening in the late afternoon sun. Sea birds circled overhead as a salty breeze lifted my hair off the back of my neck, and I wished I could simply enjoy the day. Soon, I told myself. This really shouldn't take long.

As I came through the trees, I saw a road coming from another direction that ended in a small parking area in front of the old lighthouse. The building rose before me like the beacon it was, its white and gray weathered exterior showing its age. It had been built almost a hundred years ago, and it was no longer the island's primary lighthouse. The more modern building was on the north side where the cargo ships passed. This one was more decorative than functional, although its slim tower still rose proudly into the sky.

I remembered writing marketing copy for this lighthouse. I'd called it historic, romantic, a perfect spot for sunset viewings, but I'd written those lines based on photos, not the real thing, and I had to admit it was much prettier in person.

As I approached the building, a gust of wind rattled the old storm shutters. And when I got closer, I could see fading paint and brass fixtures turned green with age. The door looked heavier than I expected, its old wood worn smooth by decades of oceanside weather.

I hesitated at the bottom of the short stairs leading up to the entrance. The late sun caught the lighthouse's windows, turning them into blazing squares of light that revealed nothing of what waited inside, and I felt fear creep down my spine, but that was silly. This was just another party venue, and Megan was probably waiting impatiently for me to arrive.

The door creaked as I pushed it open. "Megan?" My voice echoed in the circular room, where old navigational equipment lined the walls, and brass fixtures gleamed in the late afternoon light that streamed through salt-crusted windows. A spiral staircase wound upward, its iron steps disappearing into the shadows above. "Are you here?"

"Lauren?"

It was a man's voice that wafted down the stairs. "Bennett?" I asked in surprise.

"Come up to the office," he said.

I moved up the stairs, getting a little dizzy as I made my way up the narrow circular steps. Finally, I got to a landing and saw an open door leading into the lighthouse keeper's office. Bennett was standing behind an old wooden desk, a half-empty bottle of whiskey next to a file folder in front of him, a glass in his hand.

"Hi," I said warily. "I'm looking for Megan."

"Yeah, she's not coming," he replied. "Come in. Close the door."

I stepped further into the room, but I didn't close the door. "What's going on, Bennett?" I didn't like the angry, somewhat wild look in his eyes.

"It's time you and I had a talk, Lauren. Past time, actually."

"About what?"

"Well, it's not about a promotion," he said, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a long swallow. "That won't be happening, in case you're wondering. There are a lot of things that won't be happening."

I felt uneasy at the dark edge in his voice. "I should go."

"You're not leaving yet." He leaned down to pull something out of a desk drawer.

I froze in shock when I saw the gun in his hand. "What—what's going on?" I asked, fear running through me. "Why do you have a gun? Why did Megan ask me to come here?"

"I told her I wanted to talk to you about your future at the company. And I have a gun because you're not going anywhere."

"We can talk back at the resort, where it's more comfortable. In fact, we should have this conversation with Megan. She's my actual boss. And, clearly, you're upset about your father's suggestion that I be promoted. We can discuss that. There's no reason to be upset."

"Nice speech, Lauren. You're not as stupid as I thought, or maybe you are, because you're here, even after all the near misses you had this week."

I swallowed back a growing lump of terror in my throat as he took another swig of whiskey and then slammed the glass down, making me jump.

"What's going on, Bennett? Why are you so angry?"

"Didn't you ever wonder why my father wanted to throw you such an elaborate wedding? Why you were suddenly the centerpiece of a marketing campaign that would cost the company ten times more than any campaign we'd ever run? Why you were invited to the private events? You, a marketing rep, a nobody…but there you were rubbing elbows with the richest people in the world."

His jealous rage thickened the air, and I knew I had to tread carefully, or he was going to blow up. Obviously, his anger had been building for a while, and I suspected the alcohol he'd consumed had taken it to an explosive level.

"The campaign took on a life of its own," I said slowly. "But if you're unhappy about what was spent, talk to your father. I had no say in it."

"You think he'd listen to me? I don't. He's selling half the hotels in our group. I found that out earlier today from one of the people he's selling a property to. He lied about those sales being a rumor. He's selling off my inheritance because he doesn't think I can run the company. I can do a hell of a lot better than him. He's so obsessed with his precious art that he's been siphoning money we need for the company into his collection. I'm not going to tolerate it anymore. I'm not going to be treated like I'm no one, like I'm less than you."

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