Back to the Beginning: A Duet Read online

  Vincent’s jaw clenched and when he spoke, his voice sounded tight. “And if I’m wrong? If something did happen?”

  “I don’t know…” It was an honest answer and she sounded utterly broken by it. There was no getting out of it. They both needed to know, whatever it brought.

  “She works at a gentleman’s club here in town. We’re supposed to meet Stanley and the PI there,” Vincent explained. “You can ask her but that won’t guarantee the truth.”

  “A strip club?” she asked in horror. “She’s a stripper?”

  Vincent threw his hands up. “Do you want me to go there without you?”

  That put it into perspective. “No! I don’t want you to go there at all!”

  “I have to know, Ophelia,” he said solemnly. “I can’t not know.”

  She understood that on an intellectual level. But the thought of him coming face to face with this woman left her sick. “I’ve never been to a strip club before.”

  “I haven’t been in years. It’s not really my thing,” he replied. “But if you ever want to strip for me, I’ll have the pole installed tomorrow.”

  That earned him a baleful stare. “You think now is a good time to be funny? Really?”

  “I didn’t think I was being funny. I was dead serious,” he answered. “Of course, given the circumstances, I concede the point.”

  Ophelia settled back in the seat, forcing some of the tension from her shoulders through sheer iron will. She had some confessing of her own to do. “When I saw that picture this morning… my first thought was that you finally figured it out.”

  He frowned at that. “Figured out what?”

  “That I don’t belong with you. That there are women out there who are smarter, sexier, more sophisticated, certainly more beautiful.” She paused for a moment and took a deep breath. Her voice was firmer when she spoke again, less tremulous, but it still held a wealth of pain. “I don’t let myself voice those thoughts, but the fact is, I have them all the time. I think, since Isabella was born, I’ve just been sitting back and waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

  *

  Vincent cursed under his breath. “I have never made you feel that way, Ophelia… I know we’ve spent more time apart than either of us wanted, but I’ve tried every day to show you how much you mean to me—how much I want you!” It infuriated him that she would sell herself so short.

  “It isn’t about you, Vincent. This isn’t about the way you look at me. It’s about the way I look at myself. I’ve gained weight, my boobs aren’t quite as perky as they were when you married me… and all the sexy lingerie in the world won’t change that. And I’m not about to have a boob job while chasing after a toddler.”

  He scrubbed his hands over his face, an age old gesture of frustration. “I don’t care how much weight you’ve gained. And you’re not getting a boob job, period—because you don’t need one… I happen to be pretty damn pleased with them just the way they are.”

  “You are?”

  “The only way I could be happier with them was if I had my hands on them right now… and my mouth.” The confession was uttered in a harsh tone, one that left no question as to his sincerity and his desire for her. “I thank God every day for Thomas and his meddling. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have you. And you’re the best damn thing that ever happened to me, Ophelia.”

  He saw the tears. They glistened on her cheeks in the dim light stealing through the car windows. Vincent reached for her and pulled her close. “I just need you to promise me that you won’t leave. I can’t make it without you, Ophelia. You’re it for me. And not to encourage you in this direction or anything, but it’s not like you couldn’t do better than me.”

  She laughed at that. “I’m not dating your younger brother. He’s married, remember?”

  “That isn’t what I meant… I’m a workaholic. I’m a control freak. I come with enough baggage to fill an airport. And then there’s my sister—.”

  She laughed again. “Are you trying to make me divorce you? Leave Kaitlyn out of this, seriously. We’ve reached an accord with one another… mostly.”

  “That’s good because we’re staying at Ash Grove,” he said. “In the guest house. It’s apparently supposed to be very romantic.”

  “Kaitlyn scheming to fix all of our broken pieces?” Ophelia asked.

  “I sort of requested it,” Vincent admitted. “It’s a small space where we can’t avoid each other. We can’t run from this thing between us. We’ve been fading on one another for a while. With Isabella, with work… I know it can’t be like it was, our life is different now. But we should at least try and work together for our marriage.”

  Ophelia started to speak, but the car had rolled to a stop. Her expression shifted when she looked out the window at the flashing neon sign, her jaw firming and her gaze growing shuttered.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “No,” she admitted softly. “But let’s do this before I chicken out.”

  ‡

  Chapter Eight

  Ophelia felt conspicuous the moment they stepped from the car. It only grew worse after they entered the club. The music was thumping, lights flashed and spun, and everywhere she looked were beautiful women with perfect bodies in skimpy clothing and costumes. In her jeans and t-shirt, she was hardly dressed for the occasion.

  Vincent leaned down and spoke next to her ear, practically shouting to be heard above the music. “Stay close to me.”

  Like she planned to go exploring, Ophelia thought sarcastically. She looked up to see Stanley waving them over. Another man stood next to him. It must be the PI he’d hired and the man was clearly enjoying the little excursion his current job had provided. He never even glanced their way but instead kept his eyes locked on the redhead who was defying gravity as she spun around a pole.

  “Stanley,” Ophelia greeted him warmly. “Thank you for your help.”

  He gave her a wink. “Anything for you… Anything for Vincent too, but I charge him by the hour.”

  The PI never removed his gaze from the dancer, but he did quip, “There’s a lot of that going on around here.”

  “Is she here?” Ophelia asked, ignoring the remark and keeping her attention focused on Stanley.

  “She’s next up. I bribed one of the waitresses to tell me,” he said. “If she sees Vincent she’ll bolt. So I’ve got you all booked in one of the party rooms for a private lap dance after her set.”

  Ophelia followed Stanley toward the party room with Vincent right behind her. It was a different world and she was completely out of her element. Shimmery curtains, black lights and leather couches dotted the room. It looked exactly as she expected to, which was not a point in its favor.

  “This is not exactly the kind of place I expected to spend an evening with you,” she remarked casually.

  “It isn’t top of my list either,” Vincent replied. “Be prepared for her to bail. No one likes getting caught.”

  Pacing the room, Ophelia looked up at him, her expression set in stone. “She’s not going anywhere. I want this done, Vincent. I need it to be done. This can’t just hang over our heads indefinitely.”

  He nodded his agreement. “Whatever it takes.”

  They were quiet, Ophelia pacing as Vincent sat on one of the sofas and waited. Eventually the music out front shifted, signaling the end of one set. Seconds later, the curtain was pushed back and a tall, extra curvy brunette walked in. She wore a ridiculous school girl outfit that was somehow more revealing than if she’d been completely naked.

  She took one look at Vincent and sighed. “I should have known… that blonde bitch did nothing but complicate my life.”

  “She has that effect on people.” “Did you fuck my husband?” The question simply popped out, unplanned and certainly uncensored. It wasn’t a word she used often. Vincent tensed perceptibly and even the stripper seemed mildly surprised.

  “The room is monitored,” the woman finally said. “I have to dance, b
ut I’ll answer any questions you have. And no… that didn’t happen.”

  Ophelia watched her walk to the center of the room and grasp the pole, twirling herself around it with ease. “So what exactly did happen?”

  “I picked Danny up after work… I guess she’d been watching the place, watching him. She followed us to a club and offered a ridiculous amount of money for us to drug you,” she said, gesturing toward Vincent. “So we did. And when you were completely out of it, I got in the bed, naked, and Danny took the pictures.”

  “Where did you get the drugs?” Vincent demanded.

  “From her. She gave them to us… two Ambien, crushed and put in your drink.”

  “Do you know the blonde’s name?” Ophelia demanded.

  “No,” the woman answered as she dropped into an impressive squat and continued gyrating her hips. “She wasn’t real keen on introductions… or treating me like a human being. I’m a stripper… not a whore.”

  Ophelia laughed at that. “You drugged my husband and climbed into his bed naked while he was unconscious. You really want to lay claim to a moral high ground right now?”

  The girl shrugged. “We needed the money. Danny got himself in a little trouble.”

  “And for that you tried to destroy my marriage… my life,” Vincent said softly.

  “We didn’t really think that far ahead… Look, you’ve got another sixty seconds before this song ends and I have to leave.”

  Ophelia pulled up Melina’s social media profile on her phone and flashed the photo at her. “Is this the woman who hired you?”

  The stripper shimmied and undulated with an ease that was simply mind boggling as she surveyed the photo. “That’s her. A walking, talking block of ice.”

  The song ended, the woman left after being given a hefty tip, and Ophelia sat down on one of the sofas, her knees too weak to support her. “I want Melina Tate dead.”

  “I hope you’re talking to God and not me… as much as I want the same thing, I’m not fulfilling that request,” Vincent replied. “Prison wouldn’t exactly help our marriage either.”

  “Can we just go home?” Ophelia asked. “I don’t want to stay here… I just want to be back home in our house. In our bed, after I wash the filth of this place off me.”

  Vincent sighed. “Yes, we’ll go home but we do have to go out to Ash Grove first. Kaitlyn texted and says she’s got something for us.”

  Ophelia rose to her feet. “Let’s just get this done and over with. I want to put this as far behind us as possible.”

  Vincent rose and took her hand, leading her back through the club. Stanley and the PI followed. Once outside, standing near the limo, Vincent turned to them. “What do we do with Melina? We’ve got witnesses, but hardly credible ones. She’s a stripper and he’s a drug addict. Melina’s lawyers would eat them for breakfast and not even break a sweat.”

  Stanley smiled. “Go see Kaitlyn. I have an idea what she has for you… Justin’s been holding onto some very interesting photos for a while. Melina will do whatever it takes to keep them from seeing the light of day. You might not be able to make her burn for this, but you can sure as hell keep her off your back in the future.”

  “That would take an exorcist,” Ophelia replied snappishly. Realizing that her tone had been sharp, she said, “I’m sorry, Stanley. I’m just… well, it’s been a rough day.”

  Stanley kissed her cheek. “No apologies. Anderson and I are going to see your friendly neighborhood stripper and get a signed affidavit from her… I might even spring for a lap dance for him. It won’t hold up in court, but it’d be enough to further damage Melina’s already tarnished reputation. Right now, I think we need to focus on reining her in.”

  “Whatever it takes.” Ophelia’s tone was firm. She was at her limit with Melina and her schemes. That woman had tried to destroy everyone she loved. She’d gone after Vincent, after Kaitlyn and then after Justin. The lows she had sunk to in her quest to wrest control of the hotels from the DuChamps siblings and into Claude’s hands were beyond anything imaginable. And now it was revenge—nothing but petty destruction.

  “Whatever it takes,” Stanley agreed. “Go see Kaitlyn and then go home. I’ll take a commercial flight back in the morning… And I’m going to expense the hotel, the airfare and a change of clothes tomorrow. Lap dances will be filed under miscellaneous.”

  Vincent chuckled. “Take it up with Ramona… she’s more likely to question it than I will. Thank you, Stanley.”

  “We’re gonna burn the bitch this time… She’s going to be too afraid to move much less come after you again.”

  As they climbed into the limo, Ophelia prayed that Stanley was right.

  *

  The ride to Ash Grove was silent. Neither one of them spoke, but it didn’t feel strained. Vincent knew that it was more exhaustion than anything else that was prompting the quiet.

  “What do you know about Alex Beeson?” he asked, breaking the silence.

  Ophelia didn’t look at him, but kept her gaze focused on the darkened scenery beyond the windows. “I can’t tell you about him… It’s not my place. And you shouldn’t ask Kaitlyn. She’s happy now. Don’t make her dig up ugly secrets just because you want to play the protective older brother. It isn’t necessary now.”

  He didn’t like that answer. He didn’t like that everyone in the family seemed to know Kaitlyn’s secret but him. Still, Ophelia was right. Kaitlyn was happy. Being with Grant Ashworth had given his sister a kind of peace that he’d never thought she’d find. If he had to live with his ignorance in order to protect that, he would.

  “What do you think she has on Melina?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Apparently it’s juicy, whatever it is… and Justin has been sitting on it for a while.”

  The car turned down the driveway of the farm, gliding between the live oaks that lined the narrow lane. Rather than turn toward the main house, the driver veered left and followed the road to the rustic glass and wood structure that Grant had built next to the pond. Lights blazed through the large windows. They were waiting up for them.

  The limo had barely rolled to a stop when Kaitlyn came out of the house. “I’d invite you all in but Stanley called and said you were in a hurry to get back home.”

  God bless Stanley, Vincent thought. He was always one step ahead of all of them. “It’s been a hell of a day, Kaitie.”

  Kaitlyn nodded to Ophelia. “I can tell… You both look like ass.”

  Ophelia rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to lie, Kaitlyn, but you could refrain from comment every now and then.”

  Kaitlyn just shrugged as she pressed a manila envelope into his hands. “Justin sent me those and holy hell! I had to buy a photo printer to be able to print them for you. If I’d taken those anywhere in town the scandal would have ruined us!”

  “Like you’d care!” Vincent said. “I thought you lived for a good scandal?”

  “Not anymore,” Kaitlyn replied. “I love Margaret but she’s still my mother-in-law and my neighbor. I’m trying to be good.”

  “We’ll look at these on the way home. Thanks for this,” he said.

  “Thank Justin. He’s the one who’s saving the day.” Kaitlyn turned to go back inside, but glanced over her shoulder at Ophelia. “Promise me that if you’re given a chance to break that bitch’s nose you won’t take the high road.”

  Vincent shook his head. “I’m not going to bail my wife out of jail… I’m not having the mother of my child get arrested for assault. Go inside,” he ordered Kaitlyn and to Ophelia he said, “And you get back in the car before this night gets any weirder.”

  With the photos from Justin in hand, they got back in the limo and made the relatively short drive to the airport and the waiting plane. They’d be home in a matter of hours, but there were still other matters to attend to; Melina Tate needed to be dealt with once and for all.

  ‡

  Chapter Nine

  Ophelia left Vincent sleeping. She�
�d dressed quietly, slipping on a pair of jeans and a simple blouse, and carrying her shoes downstairs with her. Now, sitting in the back of a taxi more than halfway to Melina Tate’s home, she took a deep calming breath. She’d gone through the photos Justin had sent them and picked only one to bring with her. It was enough.

  The photo showed Melina in a heated embrace with a former governor. A conservative politician being touted as the next viable presidential candidate could hardly be counted on to win an election when he’d been caught with his hand under the skirt of a woman who was not his wife.

  Melina’s reputation was already hanging by a thread. Between the loss of the Tate family fortune, or rather the public admission of the fact that it had long since been squandered, her involvement with Claude and the machinations that people suspected her of there, her status in New Orleans society had fallen dramatically. One more scandal and she’d be a pariah. It was time to stand up and put the bitch in her place.

  “You don’t look like you’re having a good day,” the taxi driver quipped.

  “It’ll get better,” Ophelia replied.

  A few more minutes, thankfully driven in silence, and the taxi eased to a stop. “You want me to wait for you?” he asked.

  “No. That’s fine. I’ll call for another taxi when I’m ready,” she said and passed him several bills that included a generous tip.

  Marching up the well manicured walk toward Melina’s front door, Ophelia steeled herself for the ugly confrontation to come. She rang the bell and waited.

  Melina didn’t answer, but her maid did. The woman blustered and protested but Ophelia ignored her and simply pushed her way inside. “I need to speak with your employer.”

  “Miss Tate is not accepting visitors,” the woman said firmly.

  “I’m not really a visitor. Melina will want to hear what I have to say…Actually she won’t. But it’s in her best interest to do so.”

  The woman started to protest again, but then Melina walked out of the dining room draped in a silk robe. Her hair and makeup were perfect. “It’s fine, Betty. Mrs. DuChamps may have forgotten her manners and barged in, but it would be less than gracious of me not to welcome her.”