Deceptive Innocence, Part Three (Pure Sin) Read online

  He’s not calling his home phone, or Jessica’s phone . . . he’s calling me.

  Maybe he’s doing that to hurt Jessica.

  Or maybe he’s doing that because he’s talked to Micah.

  Renewed anxiety begins to trickle through my heart. I don’t know exactly what Travis’s connection is to Micah. I don’t have any guarantee that Micah will remain quiet about his suspicions, no matter what he promised me.

  This call could be nothing.

  Or it could be the end of everything.

  I do my best to give Jessica a calm and apologetic smile as I answer the phone and press it to my ear without a word.

  “How are you, Bell?”

  His voice scratches at every nerve in my body.

  “I’m fine, Mr. Gable,” I say, my voice surprisingly steady. Jessica gives me a sharp look and I make a show of rolling my eyes, letting her know that the last thing I want is to be talking to her husband. She smiles weakly, and after a second of uncertainty, goes back to her chair and picks up a magazine. Even the careful way she turns the pages broadcasts her discomfort.

  “I was just watching that tape again,” he says.

  “I’m sorry?” I ask, momentarily disoriented. I sink into a chair across from Jessica. Did Micah make a tape of our exchange?

  For Jessica I keep my face calm.

  This must be what it feels like to have a heart attack.

  “The tape of you and my brother,” he clarifies.

  Even after I hear the words it takes a few more seconds to register. I’m so scared about what Micah may have told Travis I completely forgot about the sex tape.

  “I have to say,” he continues, “my brother is a lucky man. Your breasts are exquisite.”

  “Was there a task you needed me to attend to?” I ask, lowering my head so my hair falls forward. If I left the room, it would be inexcusably suspicious, but I also can’t afford for Jessica to see my face right now. I’ve practiced hiding my anger, but humiliation is a more difficult state to conceal.

  “Is my wife there?”

  “Yes, she’s right here, Mr. Gable. Would you like to talk to her?”

  “No, I would like you to touch yourself, Bell. I would like for you to touch yourself in front of my wife while talking to me on the phone. I’d like for her to know that her husband is making you come right in front of her. Would you do that for me?”

  I don’t answer right away. So far he’s made no reference at all to Micah or Javier . . . but he is taking his harassment to a new level. Something must have triggered that . . . What would that be?

  I take a deep breath and try to steady myself. “No, Mr. Gable,” I finally answer. “Of course not.”

  “That’s not very cooperative of you. I am the one paying your salary, aren’t I? And I do have this tape to do with as I please.”

  I squeeze my eyes closed. Using that tape as a threat, that’s rather desperate . . .

  . . . and it gives me hope. If he had something more solid to threaten me with, he would.

  “I’ve figured out where I can access those records you were asking about,” I say as coolly as I can manage.

  “Lander’s phone records?” he asks, his voice registering surprise.

  “Those are the ones,” I reply. “I can give you that . . . But unfortunately your other request isn’t feasible.”

  There’s a long pause on the phone and then a low laugh. “Very well, I’ll drop the request, for now. However, I will be stopping by there in about forty minutes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s my home and I can come in and out of it as I please,” Travis replies. “Let Jessica know, will you?”

  Before I can respond the phone goes dead. I raise my head to meet Jessica’s eyes with a smile. But I can immediately tell it’s too late to reassure her. Even through the haze of drugs she saw . . . something. She knows the conversation wasn’t about business.

  “Mr. Gable will be stopping home in about forty minutes.”

  “Why?” Jessica asks, unwittingly repeating my own reaction to the news. She studies the magazine, although I’m not sure she’s actually reading the words.

  “That’s a very good question,” I admit.

  And it’s a question I’m a little worried about.

  She smiles weakly and runs her palm over an image of a girl selling perfume and sex. “Perhaps,” she says, “I’ll show you the shoes some other time.”

  chapter six

  A full hour later Travis arrives and heads straight into Jessica’s office, where we’re working out the seating arrangements for the upcoming fund-raiser dinner. His walk is less a strut than it is the stalking gait of a predator.

  Jessica opens her mouth to say hello, but my charming employer doesn’t acknowledge his wife at all. Instead he smiles down at me, more warmly than he ever has before.

  It’s enough to scare the shit out of me.

  “Bell,” he says, “you look beautiful as always.”

  I glance toward Jessica. She has her head down, but even from this angle I can see that she’s fighting for composure.

  “Thank you, Mr. Gable,” I begin. “Mrs. Gable and I—”

  “I thought we could have a family dinner tonight, Travis,” Jessica interjects. “The children will be home early and—”

  “And how would you know what time my children are going to be brought home?” Travis asks without bothering to turn and look at her.

  “They’re our children, Travis,” she says with a nervous laugh. “It’s important that I keep up with the structure of their day. Is it so odd that I would memorize their schedule?”

  I look away, hoping Travis didn’t have time to read my knee-jerk reaction to that. Jessica didn’t memorize a thing. I checked the calendar just twenty minutes ago and told her what the kids had scheduled today. But I don’t want the credit. I want Travis to believe that Jessica is being a halfway decent parent. I want him to soften toward her, if only for a few minutes.

  If only long enough to get his attention off me.

  And for a moment I think I’m getting my wish. Travis finally turns to face her. “I’ll call the nanny,” he says. “I’ll ask her to take Braden and Mercedes out to dinner. You shouldn’t be around them tonight.”

  “But . . . I promised Mercedes we would play Chutes and Ladders tonight after dinner—”

  “Then you’re going to have to break your promise to your daughter.”

  Jessica shakes her head as she mouths the word why.

  “You’re stoned, Jessica. You’re a complete mess. You’re not fit to be around any child.”

  “But I . . . I only took the pills you gave me,” she protests.

  “Are you blaming me for your addiction?”

  “No,” Jessica responds quickly, immediately getting to her feet. “I didn’t mean—”

  “If you like I can just stop giving you the pills. See how that goes.”

  “No! I mean . . . I . . . I need them . . . You remember the last time I tried to do without them . . . It’s my medicine . . . my prescribed medicine . . . I . . . I’m—”

  “A joke,” he finishes for her. “You’re a complete joke.”

  Jessica, seemingly unable to form any more words, is reduced to just shaking her head and holding back tears.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll keep getting you your medication,” he says, adding extra sarcasm to the last word. “Maybe I’ll let you play a game or two with my daughter tomorrow if you’re sober enough to speak clearly. And you are right about one thing: it might be nice if I took them out to dinner tonight.” He turns back to me, his smile animated with cruelty. “Would you like to join us, Bell? I’m sure my children will love you.”

  “I . . . I don’t . . .” I fumble, finding myself just as discombobulated as his wife.

  “They’re very well behaved at restaurants,” he assures me. “Despite their mother’s weak-willed sloppiness they’re surprisingly disciplined in their behavior.”

  �
��I . . . I have plans tonight,” I stammer.

  “Why don’t you see if you can cancel them,” he suggests. “I want to show you that not everyone in my family is weak. I’m sure your days with Jessica have lowered your opinion of us. I bet you have to take a shower when you leave just to get the stench of her neediness and addiction off you.”

  Jessica has her hands clasped and pressed against her chest, and her knees are bent as she twists her body away from us as if she’s actually being deformed by the humiliation Travis is heaping on top of her.

  The whole scene feels surreal to me. Like someone just turned the home office into a stage and now Travis, Jessica, and I are performing a modern version of No Exit. All we’re missing is the valet.

  But then, this shouldn’t be a surprise. It’s not like I walked into this situation blind. About a year ago I briefly dated a boy who was cute, stupid, and incredibly low maintenance. He would have been content hanging out all day shooting hoops, playing pool, and making idle small talk about pop culture. But that’s not why I went out with him. I went out with him because I wanted to get to know his sister, a nice, middle-aged woman named Sara who had just gotten a job as a day-care provider in Brooklyn. Before that she worked as a nanny for a wealthy couple that lived on the Upper East Side: Jessica and Travis Gable.

  “That’s one fucked-up family,” Sara had slurred more than once over the beers I bought her at the pool hall where we watched her brother play every Friday night. “I had to drag the kids from one activity to another just to keep them out of their parents’ way. And the girl’s just a baby, so I mean how many activities can I come up with for her, right? Oh, and the wife, Jessica? She’s suicidal, and I think her husband wants her to do it too.”

  “God, what makes you say that?” I had pressed.

  “Lots of reasons . . . But I guess the biggest one is that I once walked in on her holding a knife to her wrist.”

  “What?” I swiveled back and forth on my bar stool, trying to figure out how I felt about the woman who helped set up my mother for murder committing suicide.

  “Yep, I accidentally walked in on her in the bathroom and she was just standing in front of the mirror with this glassy stare. In her hand was a kitchen knife, and she just had it, you know, resting against the underside of her wrist as if she was still making up her mind about whether or not to go through with it.”

  “Wow,” I whispered.

  “Yeah, It was freaky. And when she saw me she just put the knife down on the counter and walked out of the bathroom, like I wasn’t even there. Later when I asked her about it she said that it never happened. She called me a liar, and when I tried to push it she slapped me across the face so hard it actually left a mark. Then she accused me of sleeping with her husband. Said I was nothing more than a common whore.” Sara shook her head, seemingly still amazed by the memory. “The woman is just totally out of her mind. So then I tell her husband about the knife incident . . .”

  “And?”

  “And he thanked me for telling him and said he’d take care of everything. But here’s the thing. He actually seemed happy about it.”

  “Happy about . . . Wait, what was he happy about?” I had asked, genuinely confused.

  “Happy to hear that his wife was suicidal. You could just tell that he was trying to hold back a smile.”

  “Huh.” I waved over the bartender and ordered Sara another beer. Once it was served I propped up my elbows and started tearing at the edges of my napkin. “Do you think she’d ever actually go through with it?”

  “Maybe,” Sara had mused. “I don’t really get what keeps her in the marriage, but it isn’t love for him, and I don’t think she loves her kids either. I think maybe her husband has something on her . . . or maybe they have something on each other. You know, keep your friends close and your enemies closer? Still, it’s clear she’s afraid of him. And part of me thinks that given the chance, she’d run.”

  “You mean leave?”

  Sara had shaken her head and stared long and hard into her beer. “No,” she had said carefully. “I mean run.”

  And now here I am, witnessing all the abuse Sara witnessed. Although I have to think Travis is turning it up a notch. If I had to guess, he gets a little more sadistic every month, hoping to find her breaking point. Trying to formulate the right words, words that will drive her to pick up that knife.

  It’s not pleasant to watch. But it is useful.

  The house phone spits out a short, high-pitched ring. It’s the noise it makes when there’s a call coming in from the front desk of the lobby. Travis, clearly irritated by this interruption of his little torture session, snatches up the phone. “What.”

  There’s a pause and his forehead creases. He gives me a sharp look. “Why, yes,” he says slowly. “Send him up.”

  He hangs up the phone, his eyes still on me. “My brother’s here.”

  I freeze, momentarily stunned. This can’t be happening.

  “It seems like you and Mrs. Gable need a little time to talk,” I say quickly. “Would you like me to meet your brother at the elevator and ask him to come back later?”

  “No,” Travis says slowly, his expression moving from cruel to cold. “But I would like to know why he’s here. Surely no one in this penthouse was expecting him, right?”

  “No, of course not,” Jessica says, wrongly assuming the question is directed at her. She clears her throat before adding, “I never invite Lander over—”

  “Dear God, when will you shut up?” Travis hisses, looking down at his browbeaten wife before quickly shifting his eyes back to me. I see the unspoken question.

  And I don’t have an answer.

  I don’t know why he’s here! Has he decided not to go along with keeping our relationship a secret after all? Why would he do that? I’ve set up a rather elaborate mousetrap, one in which Travis knows about the affair that he thinks Lander is keeping from him, which Lander is keeping quiet about because I’ve asked him to. Getting each one to think he’s using me to spy on the other has been working great so far. But if Lander has decided to come clean, I’ll be the only mouse in danger.

  There’s a knock on the door and for a second no one moves, as if we all expect that the guy knocking is the boogeyman rather than a family member, although I suppose all too frequently the two are the same.

  Jessica snaps out of it first.

  “I’ll get it,” she whispers. On unsteady feet she makes her way out of the room to the front door.

  “You asked him to meet you here?” Travis growls under his breath.

  “No!” I insist in a harsh whisper. “I have no idea why . . .”

  Lander walks in with Jessica by his side. “Ah, Travis. I heard you came home for lunch. Glad the rumor mill bases at least some of its gossip on fact. I . . . Oh, hello.” His eyes turn to me. “I didn’t know you had company.”

  Neither Travis nor I move. Again, it’s Jessica who comes to the rescue. “Lander, this is my . . . our . . . new personal assistant, Bell Dantès.”

  “What a beautiful name,” Lander says as he steps forward, offering his hand. “I’m Lander Gable.”

  Tentatively I shake his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Did I forget to tell you I have a new assistant?” Travis asks, enunciating each word carefully as if testing the waters. “I’ve been rather distracted of late.”

  “Life’s been busy for all of us,” Lander says, making himself comfortable on the couch and smiling up at Travis. “I actually have a dentist appointment around the corner and I thought I’d stop by and let Jessica know that I’d like to go to the fund-raiser for Highkin after all . . . assuming there’s still space.”

  Travis leans back on his heels and studies his younger brother, curiosity blunting some of his anger. “I didn’t think you liked Highkin.”

  Lander shrugs nonchalantly. “You like him, Dad likes him . . . Maybe I should at least give the man a chance.”

  “It’s a thousand
dollars a plate.”

  Lander’s lips curl up into a little ironic smile. “I’m good for it.”

  “Will it be just you?” Travis asks provocatively.

  Lander hesitates for a moment before turning to Jessica, who is sitting in the corner trying to make herself as small as possible. “Jessica, will most of the attendees be bringing a plus one?”

  “Most of them,” Jessica says in something just above a whisper. “Of course, it’s not a requirement . . .”

  “But I don’t want to be the odd man out. Maybe there’s someone you could set me up with?”

  At this Travis’s eyes narrow, but Jessica, oblivious to the true dynamics of what’s going on, nods her head. “I’m sure I could come up with a name or two,” she says vaguely. “You’re not a difficult man to fix up . . . Although you are so picky, Lander. I can’t remember the last time you dated a woman for more than a week.”

  I can. But I keep my eyes on the floor, not saying a word.

  “I know, I’m a challenge.” Lander laughs. “Perhaps you shouldn’t set me up after all. I’ll undoubtedly do something unforgivable during the evening and your friend will hate you forever for putting her through the hardship.”

  “‘Unforgivable’?” Travis repeats coolly.

  “Oh, you know.” Lander sighs. “I won’t give my date enough attention, or I won’t be able to feign interest in her career. Or when she asks me if I’ll respect her in the morning, I’ll tell her the truth. I’ve never been good at pulling my punches, and that doesn’t really work out well for me in our circles.” He taps his fingers against his knees as he pretends to think.

  And then he turns to me.

  “How about you, Bell?”

  “Me?” I ask weakly. I cast a glance at Travis, but I can’t read him. Lander seems to have us all a bit off guard.

  “It’ll be good food and good drinks, isn’t that right, Jess?” Again Lander smiles at his sister-in-law.

  “Well, yes, Bell actually helped a bit with sorting through the RSVPs and pledges, although most of it was planned before we hired her . . .”