Page 30 of A Man of Wealth

“It is,” I agree. I turn and start back inside. “Come on.”

She follows me as I walk back down to the main level. I reach into my wine fridge and hold up her favorite bottle of wine.

“How do you know that?” she asks.

“Know what?” I ask, playing along. I know perfectly well what she’s asking but toying with her might be one of my very favorite new games.

She gives me a pointed look and motions with her chin to the bottle.

“I know you may find this hard to believe, but I’m actually pretty observant.”

She laughs. “Apparently, I’ve underestimated your abilities.”

I give her a wink as I open the bottle and pour her a glass. “I believe you have.”

She blushes a little as I hand her the glass before pouring myself one. I don’t usually drink white wines, but for her, I’ll make an exception.

“What did you want?” she asks.

I pause and consider my words. I don’t want her to know everything, partly because I’m still learning to trust her and partly because for some reason that I have yet to want to explore; I feel the primal need to protect her, and knowing what I know, would most certainly put her in harm’s way.

“Alexis believes there were more men in the room with her,” I say, testing how she reacts to this information.

She lowers her glass. “When she was kidnapped?”

I nod. “Yes.”

I see when her investigative journalist light turns on in that smart brain of hers. “Does she know how many? Did she recognize the voices? Could she recognize the voices? When did she remember this?” Her questions come out in a fluid, spitfire of sounds.

I hold up a hand. “Calm down there, curious cat. We don’t know yet. She thought perhaps a total of four men, and another one was on the phone and his voice had been altered. So, I’m not sure she’d even be able to recognize it if she heard it.”

“Oh.” She pauses, considering this additional information. “Why do you think the one on the phone had his voice altered?”

I shrug. “Now, that’s a good question.”

She sips her wine and leans back against my counter. “I mean…let’s just play this out, right? Your father, we know he was there. The other person in the room, she hasn’t recognized yet. One on the phone and we think a third or fourth in the room?”

I nod. “So why did they not all change their voices?”

“Because they wanted to send a message. And a message they sent.”

“Yes, but it still doesn’t add up.” She frowns as she drinks more.

“No, that part doesn’t add up, I agree.”

She’s quiet as she drinks, and I wonder what she’s thinking. When she speaks, I know she’s thoroughly thought through the information I’ve given her.

“Your father wanted you to know. Specifically, you,” she whispers. “But why?”

“A warning, likely to us to stay in line.”

“I don’t like this. Something major is missing and I think that whatever we aren’t seeing yet, could be a game-changer,” she states.

I don’t disagree with her. She’s right, about everything. This woman knows so much more than she’s let on. It’s at this moment that I know she’s trustworthy. She’s put herself in danger to find the truth because she thinks bad things are going on. And she’s correct. Only now, I think it’s clear the bad things could be a whole lot worse than any of us fathomed possible.

I watch as she looks over at a shelf in my living room. I see her survey the few family photos that I have put out in my home. Her face drops as she sees one in particular. That look on her face guts me. I hate pity, but this is more than pity. This is a concern, which is not something I’m used to seeing on other people’s faces. I can read people well, but only because I’ve experienced more emotions than I should have. I’ve also locked all of those emotions away.

Broken. I’ve been broken for so long that I don’t even know what it feels like to be whole, to be unscarred by life.

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