Page 286 of Mangled Memory
If she and Seamus are in on it—if they’re working in tandem—why did the conservatorship piece fall through on his end? Why did it need to be me? Or was I just an inconvenience in the whole thing, accidently participating where I had no business being?
What would she—or her bastard of a father—get from that?
I hold the papers. If this whole thing is a charade, I can control every outcome—financial, physical, relational. I could own my business and hers, have complete fucking domination.
Until death.
I’m mulling over all the questions that assault me when the door to the sitting room opens and Ren stalks my way. My desk is littered with paperwork and an open bottle of bourbon that’s too expensive to guzzle as fast as I am.
“I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon after leaving.”
“I didn’t expect to need to call.” I lift the bottle of liquor in invitation.
He waves it off. His face registers curiosity. “Not tonight. Thanks.” He looks to the seat, and it dawns on me he’s waiting for me.
“Please have a seat.” I give myself a healthy pour and lean back in my chair.
“I know you’re investigating me. I need you to also investigate my—” I start to saymy wifebut can’t get the words out. “I need to you to dig into Ayla. Start two years before we met.” I provide him with the date of our “chance” meeting at Rondelé.
“Liam is working on Seamus’ background, as you know.” Hell, it was only this afternoon when the three of us met to discuss CAB, LLC and the Murphys’ involvement with the Laotian investors. “But where you see overlap with CAB or C-Bar or any entity that weaves a layer with me or Ayla or that man, please dig deeper.”
“Liam has more connections in this area.”
“Liam is otherwise engaged.” I stare at my half-brother, sizing him up. I loathe being vulnerable in front of anyone. To be vulnerable with an employee is a death knell. Especially one with a connection to me personally. One that could be exploited.
I choose instead to hedge, offering a little, while withholding the majority. “Seamus made accusations tonight that have me wondering about how married”—I try not to choke on the word—“our businesses might be.”
“If I may speak freely,” Ren begins to gauge my reaction.
My acquiescence is slow. “Sure.”
“How much do you trust Seamus Murphy to give you the truth in any situation?”
I don’t answer.
“And how much of whatever he said tonight would you assume is credible?”
Again, no answer.
Ren continues, “My gut with him is not good. He’s self-centered and self-aggrandizing. His only motive is boosting his own ego.”
“Agreed.”
His lying about Ayla would be so like him. It would undermine my relationship with her, create discord, lead to problems that would take ages to resolve. His telling the truth, though,would undermine the foundations of everything we’ve built our lives on. It’s ultimate destruction for me.
Either way, he wins.
“That’s exactly why I need you investigating. I don’t trust him either.” His words, in essence, are a catch-22. “He’s scheming—in what is said and in what is left unsaid, in action and inaction.” I drain my glass. “And I need the truth.”
The fuck of it is, how can I ever believe the truth when it’s either utter devastation or too good to be true?
“Thank you, Ren.” I hate the dismissal in my tone. But I don’t have it in me to give one shit more with the state of my life tonight.
He sees himself out and I see myself to bed. Our sheets smell like her. My senses come alive, my dick hardens, memories flood me, and my heart plummets.
Within ten minutes, I’ve relocated to the guest room upstairs. This bed smells like flowers and herbs. The sheets are lush but not soft from being broken in. The pillows are too firm and too full. I need the wrongness of all of it.
I haven’t slept without my wife at my side since seven weeks after we met. There was only one exception. The night before our wedding she insisted I not see her for “tradition” or some such nonsense. She stayed at her parents’ house. I slept in our room. That’s the one night she hasn’t been next to me in the more than two and a half years since I met her.
