Her eyes darted frantically at the dial above the elevator doors. Only five more floors. She quickly switched the recorder to voice-activated mode and tucked it inside her bra, leaving the top two buttons of her blouse undone in the hopes the fabric wouldn’t obstruct the sound.
God, I hope this works. Her makeshift plan was far from professional and, truth be told, based largely on movies she’d seen over the years. There was no guarantee she’d be able to steer the conversation in the direction she needed, let alone that the device would pick up a clean recording. But on the outside chance Julian said something incriminating, she had to be ready.
The car Julian sent was waiting at the curb. Allie recognized the driver immediately. It was the same hired thug from the château, the one who had held her captive in the library while Julian saw to “pressing matters.” He climbed out of the black Lexus as Allie spun through the revolving doors, holding out his leather gloved hand as she approached.
“Protocol,” he said with a smirk.
Allie handed over her smartphone and watched as he powered it off. “Where are we going?” she asked when he yanked open the rear door.
“Home.” His patronizing tone sent a wave of unease through her.
Home? What the hell did that mean? Julian kept a suite at The Peninsula whenever he was in town. As she settled into the leather seat she began to wonder if the arrogant bastard had actually purchased a home for the two of them to live in as husband and wife. It wouldn’t have surprised her. Seeing as how he thought of her as nothing more than an accessory, selecting their home without consulting her would be par for the course. But the further they drove, the more clear their destination became. The car was headed to Lake Forest.
Julian was literally having her meet him at the scene of his crime.
Adrenaline coursed through Allie’s veins as the car veered onto the small lane that ran parallel with the lake. One by one they passed historic homes that dotted the north shore, and before long she could see the stone wall that surrounded her family’s waterfront estate.
“Home sweet home,” the driver said as he pulled through the iron gates of Mayflower Place.
Allie glared at him in the rearview mirror. “Give me a minute.” Her stomach rolled at the thought of being in that house again, and for a moment she felt as though she might be sick. She took a deep breath and climbed out of the car on shaking legs. In front of her stood the brick and stone mansion that had once been her home. Now it was nothing more than a crime scene. Her worst nightmare brought back to life.
Julian was waiting for her in the living room, just beyond the marble floored foyer. “Good evening, Alessandra. How was your commute? Not too much traffic, I hope.”
Allie frowned. He was making small talk with her as if he were just an ordinary man at the end of an ordinary work day. Not a man who’d summoned the woman he was blackmailing to the home where he’d had her parents slaughtered.
“Care for a drink?”
“Why are we here, Julian?” The quiver in her voice betrayed the appearance of outward calm she was trying so desperately to maintain.
He strolled over to a set of decanters arranged on a silver tray. The fingerprint dust that had covered them the last time she was there had been wiped away, and the facets of the crystal caught the flickering light of the fireplace. “I’m the king of the castle,” he said, filling a glass with a generous pour of vodka. Allie noticed he didn’t even bother adding ice. “Might as well live in it.”
Of all the sadistic plans Julian had for her, this was by far the worst. Living at Mayflower Place had nothing to do with the esteemed address and everything to do with their future residence serving as a constant reminder of exactly what he was capable of doing.
“That horrible room will have to go,” he said, nodding toward the dining room. Without thinking, Allie followed his gaze. The markings from the crime scene investigators were long gone, but it was far from the room she remembered. At one point beveled mirrors covered every inch of the walls, but now one section stood bare. Bullets had shattered the panel that hung there, and in its place remained nothing but streaks of blood.
“Honestly, did your mother really think she could pull off her own Versailles?” He let out a derisive snort. “Of course it would need to be redecorated either way. All that blood and brain matter.” He clicked his tongue. “Shame the rug had to be taken as evidence. It was the one acceptable piece in the room.”
Allie closed her eyes against the onslaught of images that flooded her mind. When she opened them, she noticed for the first time that the table was set for an elegant meal. White linen, fresh flowers, and her mother’s favorite china were arranged in what would have looked like a romantic dinner for two if it weren’t for the bloodstains on the wall. Candles had even been lit. “What’s all this?”
“A celebration.” Lifting the tumbler to his lips, he took a hefty sip. “You’ve done well, Alessandra. With the stock transfer underway, I thought we should toast our impending nuptials.” He smirked. “No time for an engagement party, after all.”
“Are you sure you want to rush this, Julian? I mean, I thought you wanted a lavish affair that was covered by all the media outlets?” she asked, echoing the sentiments he’d previously expressed in an effort to buy herself more time.
“I assure you, our wedding will be everything your mother ever dreamed it would be. Pity she won’t be able to see it.” There wasn’t a hint of remorse in his tone. “The arrangements have all been made, although none of the vendors know the identity of the bride and groom. Once you have secured the shares, we can announce our engagement.” He reached for the decanter and topped off his glass. “We’ll wed on Valentine’s Day, as previously discussed, and when we return from our honeymoon, you will tell the board you’ve had a change of heart and no longer wish to serve in any capacity at Ingram. That’s when you’ll use your considerable stock percentage to vote your new husband into your vacated position.”
“Seems you’ve thought of everything.” Maybe if she could stroke his ego she could get him talking about his plans. While he’d revealed himself to be a callous, male-chauvinist asshole, he’d yet to say anything incriminating.
“I’m very thorough, Alessandra. And I always get what I want. You’ll do well to remember that. But as for the details of our arrangement, no need to worry about keeping up. It’s all spelled out in the prenuptial agreement.”
“You expect me to sign a prenup?”
“The details of the very generous wedding gift you’ll bestow on me.”
Damn him. Especially when taken out of context, none of his words amounted to admission of a crime.
He drained his glass and set it down on the coffee table as he made his way across the room. “In fact, let’s get the paperwork out of the way before dinner, shall we?”
As if he was giving her a choice. With his hand cupping her elbow, Julian guided Allie toward her father’s office. Her throat tightened as she remembered the last time she’d strode down that hallway, so confident in her mission. She’d planned to take control of her life that night. But instead it had shattered into a million pieces.
Julian pushed open the door to the office and all at once she was back there . . . her father was slumped over his desk, blood seeping from beneath his chest, and the phone was cradled in his lifeless hand. The police determined her mother had been shot first, surprised by the gunman as he made his way in through the kitchen. Had her father heard the shots? Had he been trying to dial 911? It broke her heart to imagine him during those last horrific moments, and yet it was a scenario she’d replayed in her head a thousand times.