Victoria's Got a Secret Read online

  Paul cringed at the way the guy said her name, all possessive and demanding, like he owned her or something. But there was something else. A desperation that pulsed just under the surface.

  One thought lead to another until Paul’s mind went barreling in a dozen directions, most of them bad. “Is she okay? Did something happen?”

  Despite his women-free vow, he’d break it for her. If she needed him, he’d figure out a way to be there for her. To hell with self-preservation. “She wants to talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  “You should ask her.”

  The conversation bordered on crazy. Jennifer’s boyfriend throwing them together. What kind of guy did that?

  “Tell me what’s going on,” Paul said.

  “That’s between the two of you.”

  But there was nothing between them. Hadn’t been for years.

  And there was no way this guy wanted to take them all back there.

  Paul wasn’t even sure he could go if invited. Every time Jennifer left him, she took a piece of his heart with her. He didn’t have much left to spare.

  He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Hey.” Neil slid onto the barstool next to Paul. “What’s up?”

  “What you do from here is your choice.” Preston walked away without another word.

  “Who was that?” Neil reached for the bowl of peanuts and slid them to him.

  “Preston.”

  Neil’s mouth dropped open. “Jennifer’s Preston?”

  The words shot through Paul and landed right in the center of his chest like a dead weight. “Yeah.”

  “Did I miss a fight or something?”

  “He wants to me to call Jennifer.” Paul turned the scrap of white paper over in his hands. He stared at the numbers and memorized them without trying.

  “For God’s sake, why?”

  “No idea.”

  “Are you going to?”

  He balled up the paper in his fist. “Hell, no.”

  But he knew he would.

  Paul picked up the receiver and slammed it back down again. He’d purposely left his cell in the car to cut down on the temptation to call her.

  It had been less than twenty-four hours since Preston handed him Jennifer’s number, and he’d thought about nothing but placing that call. Weakness ate at his gut every minute. Neil had offered to take the paper and get rid of it, but it was too late. The numbers flashed in Paul’s mind whether he was awake or asleep.

  Some great cosmic joke kept throwing him right into Jennifer’s path. It had been years, but hearing her name brought it all back. The soft feel of her skin and sexy goodness of her laugh. The body. The face. That incredible mind.

  It was so tempting to see what she wanted, if she wanted something, and hear her voice.

  But this felt wrong. Jennifer didn’t contact him. He hadn’t heard anything about her having trouble, though he went out of his way not to hear things about her. If something bad had happened, Heather would have called. That was the unspoken promise when they saw each other the last time.

  Then there was the look on the jerk’s face as he handed over the number. Smug and self-satisfied. Paul tried to imagine what someone like Jennifer would see in that guy. Money and power were seductive beasts, but he’d never thought Jennifer would get sucked into all that shallow crap.

  He stared at the phone one more time.

  He should get up. Go out and get a beer. Call Neil and catch a game. Anything but pick up that phone and punch in the numbers.

  The receiver was in his hand before he finished the thought. With each ring, he prayed she wasn’t around. If her voicemail picked up, he had no idea what he would say.

  He’d hang up. Yeah, that was the plan. She had this one chance before he banished the number from his brain.

  The phone rang a third time. One more and he was free.

  Jennifer stood in the middle of her closet and raced to pull her turtleneck over her head. Her head poked through the second before she performed a perfect diving grab for the phone.

  She hit the button on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

  Only dead air greeted her. She started to disconnect before she heard it. The slight puff of breathing.

  This was her private line. She didn’t get crank calls here because so few people had access to the number.

  “Hello?” She put enough anger in her voice to let the person on the other end know she wasn’t in the mood for games.

  “Jennifer.”

  The husky whisper made her eyes close. An unexpected wave of happiness swept through her. Being connected to him even through this tenuous feed provided a lifeline she didn’t even know she needed.

  “Paul.” She wanted to say more, to be witty and ask all the right questions, but the one word was enough.

  He must have seen her the other night at the bar or talked to Heather. The possibilities ran through Jennifer’s mind until the nosiness threatened to overtake her.

  “How did you get this number?” She used all of her energy to keep her voice neutral. She had nothing left to fuel her muscles and keep her on her feet.

  She slid down to the comforter, hunching over the phone as she pressed it tight against her skin. Anything to be closer to him.

  Anything to hear the warm caress of his voice in her ear.

  “Preston gave it to me.”

  A cold wash of reality poured over her. Preston, the one name she never uttered or even thought about in comparison to Paul. Preston was trying to taint her feelings and erase her past.

  He wanted to drag her memories into his lifestyle and ruin the good thoughts she still had for Paul. She refused to let that happen.

  “Jennifer?” The scratchy edge to Paul’s voice didn’t leave when he cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”

  Her shoulders slumped from the weight of everything crashing in on her. She dropped her forehead to her hand and massaged her temples.

  “Yes.” The word sounded false in her ears. She knew Paul would see through the lie.

  “Why did Preston tell me to call you?” Confusion filled Paul’s rough voice.

  “I don’t know.” But she did.

  Preston knew Paul was her greatest weakness. Preston wanted to bring someone else into their relationship, and she’d resisted. She didn’t want any part of that life.

  Handing Paul to her as an option was a brilliant move. The temptation to see him, touch him, was so great that she almost gave in. Would if Paul gave even the slightest indication he missed her.

  “Jennifer, I—”

  Instead of spelling it out, she went for the abbreviated version. The details weren’t necessary. “Preston likes to play games.”

  Paul let out a deep breath. When he spoke again, his words shook. “I can’t do this.”

  She wiped the tears from her eyes. “I know.”

  “Seeing you would . . .”

  “I know.” She did.

  Paul wasn’t in a good place, wasn’t strong enough to turn her down. She could hear it in every word he spoke. Felt it as if it traveled through the phone.

  He was pure temptation. She needed him so badly, so desperately. Part of her wanted to ignore his pleas and explore whatever they could have together. But the bigger, smarter part of her knew being together like this would destroy everything.

  He was clean and good. Not perfect, but their time had been precious. She refused to stain that with Preston’s twisted fantasies.

  “I don’t think we should meet. It’s not like last time,” Paul said.

  She nodded her head, unable to speak as she choked back tears.

  “The timing is—”

  “Wrong,” she croaked out. “Yeah, I know.”

  She sat and held the phone, listening to his steady breathing and enjoying the silence, knowing it was all they should have.

  After a few minutes, he broke the quiet. “Promise me something.”

  “Anything.” In that moment
she would have knit him the moon if she could.

  “Stay strong.” Then he hung up the phone.

  Twenty-Three

  Success doesn’t mean everything.

  —Grandma Gladys, The Duchess

  JENNIFER HAD ALWAYS PRIDED HERSELF ON BEING ABLE to read people. She believed in Zodiac signs and had started investigating tarot cards. She understood there was something more in the world than the tangible things she could feel and see.

  None of that explained what was happening to her. Naked News had made her famous in many circles. Her appearance on Howard Stern the year before took the show from subscribers in the tens of thousands to more than a quarter of a million. Now they had more than six million hits per month.

  She’d had numerous television appearances and interviews. Entertainment Tonight had her on repeatedly. She no longer worried about being in front of people or what people would say. She’d ventured so far beyond that.

  When needed, she stripped off Jennifer from Sarnia and tucked her away for private. She put on her Victoria Sinclair personality cloak and wowed them far beyond Canada.

  Money and opportunities constantly came her way. The directors at Naked News listened to her views. She trained all of the new anchors. In many ways, she’d gone from a mere employee to someone who helped run the show. She had a cut of the franchise and the fat bank account to prove it.

  She quietly thanked the owners every day for taking her seriously and including her. They never made her feel little or unimportant. Every promise Walt had made had been fulfilled.

  Her professional life was on fire.

  Her personal life was exploding into a million terrified and lonely pieces.

  Preston made every minute miserable. She’d long ago gone from liking him to tolerating him. She didn’t want him guiding her. Didn’t even want to see him most days. He’d gone from controlling her wardrobe to picking at everything she did and said.

  He acted like she didn’t have a brain and wasn’t worthy of his time.

  But the slow destruction of her mental hold on reality was the worst. They’d have arguments, and he’d later deny they even spoke. He started leaving the apartment in the morning and not coming back until late and reeking of cheap perfume.

  Today was one step too far. She stared down at her bank statement and tried to make sense of all the withdrawals.

  “What are you doing?” His voice slithered through the apartment as he headed for the door, adjusting his tie.

  “Did you use my bank card?” She turned around to face him with the paper still clenched in her fist.

  He stared her up and down, judging but not seeing her. The dismissal showed in every muscle. “I have my own.”

  A typical nonanswer. That’s all he gave lately. He didn’t even try to explain or excuse his behavior. He just acted like everything he did was right and everything she thought was wrong.

  “I have all of these deductions listed, and I didn’t do any of them.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You kept taking out money. Don’t you remember?”

  The room danced in front of her eyes, but she adjusted her stance. She would not back down on this one. No matter how angry or belittling he became. “When?”

  “Last week.”

  Everything shifted and kept moving. It was as if her brain had deteriorated overnight. She’d spent hours dissecting their conversations and rerunning his denials until she thought she was going insane.

  “What are you talking about?” Her spine stiffened.

  He casually buttoned his jacket. “I told you I thought it was excessive. You don’t need all that cash at one time.”

  He was making it up. She didn’t know why, but he was. “That never happened.”

  “The stress is getting to you.” He managed to sound concerned as he said it.

  “No.” She held out a hand to fend him off when he tried to hug her. The motion proved useless when he pulled her into his arms.

  “Victoria dear, it’s okay.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t take the money.”

  “Of course you did.” He brushed a hand over her hair as he pressed her face into his shoulder. “It’s like the thing with the stove yesterday.”

  “I never turned it on.” She knew she hadn’t. He yelled at her for trying to burn the house down, but she had never even been into the kitchen.

  He did it. Did it and wouldn’t admit it.

  The countless scenes played over and over in her head. So many things he insisted happened or didn’t. So many facts she knew were wrong.

  Something was happening to her. Something that took the reality she knew and twisted it into something sick.

  “It was off when I left and on when I got back.” He pulled back to look down at her. “It was a mistake. You can admit that you messed up.”

  “I didn’t do it.”

  He sighed. “I really think you should see someone.”

  “This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

  “You keep telling yourself that, but it’s only a form of denial.

  You won’t be able to go over this until you deal with it.”

  She gave him credit. In a way he was right. She had to confront the truth. “Where were you yesterday?”

  “Work.” His hands dropped to his sides. “We talked about this.”

  They hadn’t. The night replayed clearly in her mind. She’d refused to talk when she suspected he’d been out sleeping with someone else. She’d heard the rumors. Saw women whisper behind their hands in the bathrooms of the clubs.

  Call it denial, but she smelled the sickly sweet scent on him one time too many. Rather than face the argument she knew they had to have, rather than make the decision to end it, she’d pulled in tight.

  That’s how she knew this time he was definitely wrong about what transpired between them. Having that knowledge, she now started to question every time he insisted one thing happened when she believed another.

  He had her so wound up and confused that she honestly didn’t know what was happening to her. Until now.

  This wasn’t about depression or needing therapy. This was about him. He was playing a sick game that warped their relationship even further and threatened to drive her mad. She just wished she understood why.

  He brushed a hand through his hair. “Why don’t we—”

  She backed away, putting as much room as possible between them. “No.”

  “Victoria.”

  “My name is Jennifer.”

  “It’s whatever I say it is.” His growl bounced off the walls, making her flinch.

  She grabbed her purse. “I’m going to Heather’s house.”

  “Running to your big sister. You’re pathetic.”

  “I’m leaving.” She rushed to the door, afraid he would try to stop her.

  “Wait until you try to get back in here.”

  She spun around. Did a quick glance around the apartment and decided she could replace anything. Him, the furniture, even her paperwork. But if she didn’t leave soon he would suck out her soul. “I’ll be back later.”

  “Don’t bother.” He swept his hand over the kitchen table and knocked her empty glass to the floor. It shattered with an earsplitting crash against the hardwood. “You know what you are?”

  His words stopped her hand from turning the knob. “An idiot for staying with you.”

  “You take off your clothes for money. There’s only one definition for that type of work.”

  In two sentences he’d said all the accusations she feared when she took the Naked News job. “Don’t say it.”

  “That makes you a whore. One I created. A pure invention of my imagination.”

  “You get out.”

  “Why should I? You don’t have the strength to make it without me.”

  Backing down didn’t calm him. Fighting just inflamed him.

  There wasn’t a good choice, so she went with the truth. “At least I don’t sleep around. That’s you.”
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  “Do you blame me?”

  She refused to let his words slice and dice her. With her heart thudding and her mind buzzing with the possibility of a life without him. “You’re a shadow of the man you once were. And, honestly, you weren’t that great to begin with.”

  He pointed at her. “You will learn to obey me.”

  “Never.”

  “I will not let some whore try to run my life.”

  “I don’t want to have anything to do with you.”

  He swore. “I guess you plan to run back to Paul. Now that he’s finally called, you can beg him to take you back.”

  She blocked out his words. She couldn’t let her mind go to Paul, or Preston would see the weakness and exploit it.

  “Is that it, Victoria?” Preston took a step toward her.

  She held up her hands but was prepared to do whatever it took if he even tried to touch her. “Stay away from me.”

  “All you’ve ever wanted was some construction guy from a small town.”

  It made her sick to think Preston had ever spent one second thinking about Paul. Preston wasn’t good enough to wash Paul’s clothes.

  She slid to her left to get away from him and lost her balance. Her feet tangled beneath her and she went flying, air sucking past her as her face headed for the hard floor. At the last minute, she turned and landed with a groan on her shoulder.

  Glass crunched under her. She couldn’t remember where it came from, but it was in her hair and cutting into her palm. Her bones creaked and jaw rattled. She’d never seen stars before, but she made them out clearly in the darkness that fell over her eyes.

  Preston crouched down with his face close to hers. “You can’t do anything right.”

  When he stepped around her and walked out the door, she let out the jagged breath she’d been holding.

  Two hours later, Jennifer scanned the concerned faces across from her on the couch. She sat bundled up in a throw and curled on a chair. “I’m fine.”

  Her best friend and true confidante, Andrea, stared back with hollow cheeks and flat lips. She wore her straight blonde hair in a ponytail, making her look years younger. They were ten years apart in age, but saw so many things the same way.

  People mistook her quiet watchfulness for something else. One look in those soulful blue eyes and the intelligence behind them was obvious. The woman was a private investigator after all.