Page 52 of Twisted Trust
“Don’t you think if we did, Levi would have taken care of both of you in the hospital?”
“I ran away,” I snap heatedly. “He didn’t have the chance.”
“He had Scott in his arms on the drive over. You were unconscious for two hours. He had plenty of chances but he didn’t. You can think what you want but the truth remains that we didnottouch Cameron. Someone else did, or it was made to look like someone else did, but it wasn’t us.”
Chip’s words haunt me all the way through the drive back to the penthouse with Scott’s most favored items clutched in my lap. I had been clinging to the idea that Levi was somehow behind Cameron’s disappearance because Levi as the villain is comforting. He’s a bad guy I know and one I mostly know how to deal with.
But if it really wasn’t him, then what was Cameron wrapped up in? And how do Scott and I factor into it? Was Scott truly just an accidental gain and whoever has Cameron just released him onto the Strip for the fun of it? Or was that Cameron’s doing as a last-chance good deed?
I need answers. I need to know what happened to my friend.
Thoughts of Cameron continue to swirl around my chest like fog on the elevator up to the penthouse, but my puzzle solvingis derailed the moment the doors open and I’m met with several armed guards. One takes all the items out of my arms and before I can protest, I’m swept through to the lounge where Levi stands near the balcony and an elderly woman sits perched on the very edge of the couch.
Her grey curls are tightly pinned around her head with silver glittering clips. Her red dress hugs a shapely figure even for her visible age, and the wrinkles around her red painted lips deepen when she sees me. Even from here, the powder on her cheeks is visible under this light, but there’s an elegance about her that reminds me of the old shows where all the women wore pearls and waved sailors off to sea.
“Ma.” Levi flashes me a quick smile as he walks closer to me. “This is Maeve. Maeve, this is my mother, Marcella.”
I’ll kill Levi later for allowing me to be surprised like this. Quickly smoothing my shirt and tucking my hair behind my ear, I smile politely and hold out my hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Gallo.”
“How old are you?” she asks abruptly, not even looking up at me as she smooths out the gloves resting in her lap.
“Uhm—” I glance at Levi who looks almost as alarmed as I feel. “I’m twenty-seven.”
“And you already have a child?” She sniffs suddenly and then looks at me, and I get the horrible feeling that she regards me as a bad smell.
“Yes. My son, Scott. He’s four.”
Her grey eyes flit up and down me. “Where is his father?”
My heart begins to race and I swallow hard around a sudden lump in my throat. Sweat warms my back and prickles my hairline at the back of my neck. “Dead.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
“When?”
“Before Scott was born.” I can feel Levi’s gaze boring into me with the heat of the sun, but I can’t look at him. As much as I’m fighting to keep my cool, the last thing I need is for some detail to slip and alert Levi to Scott’s true parentage. That’s a battle I won’t win. Me versus a family with more money and power than I can dream of? Scott would be taken from me in an instant.
“I understand you’re homeless and jobless,” Marcella continues.
“Mom,” Levi warns suddenly. “This isn’t an interrogation.”
“I deserve to know everything about the stranger entering this family,” Marcella replies sharply. “Now be quiet.” Her cold gaze locks with mine. “Well?”
“I have an apartment,” I reply quickly, clutching my trembling hands together at my waist. Why is she so scary? It’s like dealing with all my old clients wrapped up into one.
“That you’ve missed three rent payments on?”
Shame grows in my chest and my cheeks flush. “Well, yes, but my previous employer decided I was no longer a good fit for their events?—”
“Events?” Marcella is like a light switch. Suddenly, she’s looking me right in the eye and her brows are raised.
“Yes. I was an event coordinator for a hotel down on the?—”
“Oh, well, isn’t that just excellent!” Marcella stands suddenly and a lukewarm smile creeps across her face. “I look forward to seeing what you plan for your engagement party.”
Her smile feels like a threat and I’m certain her challenge is a test. I have nothing to offer a woman like this, but I do know my craft. If she wants to base my worth on how well I can plan an event, then I’ll plan one so great I’ll knock off every single pearl around her throat.
