Broken Bonds (Club Imperial Series) (12 page)

“Nate, same here.” Sean shook his hand.

Uh, who said you could call me Nate?
He didn’t like the touch at all. There was nothing physically wrong with the hand or the shake, and while Nathaniel didn’t claim to possess a single psychic bone in his body, it felt like there was some kind of slime on the guy. Turning around, he made the final introduction. “This is my brother, Victor.”

Victor walked to Sean first to get the handshake over with—
smart man
—and then to Allison and Alyssa. By then, the driver had the luggage out of the car and onto the tarmac. Victor motioned to him to help hoist it into the cargo area in the underbelly of the plane. Nathaniel motioned everyone on board and turned to the driver. “Saturday, here, same time?”

“Yes, sir, it’s on the schedule.” He nodded.

“Awesome,” Nathaniel said, slipping the guy a tip. He turned and climbed up the stairs to the inside of the plane where Sean had already settled into Victor’s regular seat, and Victor was giving him the evil eye. Allison and Alyssa were looking around in awe, and Allison turned to look at him.

“Where’s the pilot?”

“Right here.” Nathaniel raised his hand.

“Ohmigawd, you can fly this?!” She gasped.

“Yes, indeed,” he confirmed, walking to the cockpit. He glanced back into the cabin, and grinned at Allison. “Wanna sit up here for the flight back?” Allison didn’t even ask anyone, she just ran for the co-pilot’s chair, and Nathaniel laughed.

Chapter Eleven

Franklin walked into the office, holding out a flash drive. “I knew I had to get in here and show you this before you were gone most of the week, Mr. Walsh. You need to see this.”

“I’m only here for a few minutes.” Nathaniel wondered what was up.

“It’s the surveillance from outside Westerly’s apartment,” he said, shoving the drive into the side of the computer. Nathaniel sighed, and shook his head, then let Franklin queue up whatever he was doing. A moment later a video appeared on the screen. “Watch the corner for the time.”

It was a blank hallway for a few seconds until someone walked into the picture. They knocked on the door and waited. They knocked again, and then turned and left. This repeated over and over for at least a week, twice a day at different times, every time. Sometimes there was a child with her, sometimes there wasn’t.

“It’s someone trying to get in touch with her,” Nathaniel guessed.

“Yes,” Franklin confirmed. “A woman and a young boy. Ten, perhaps.”

“And you can’t get an id on her?”

“No, sir, she never looks at the camera,” Franklin explained.

“Doesn’t seem dangerous at all, does she?”

“Just seems desperate to get touch with Westerly,” he said.

“What do you recommend?”

“We find out who she is.” He ejected the thumb drive. “She’s always there before nine a.m., and always after seven p.m. The evening seems to be more predictable. Just after seven, usually. As late at nine, but never before seven. Would you like me to confront her?”

“No.” Nathaniel shook his head. “Let’s go together. I’ll talk to her. I don’t want to do too much confronting. We’ll go tonight while Emmy and her mother are at dinner.”

That evening, Nathaniel and Franklin stood around the corner from the apartment, waiting for someone to show up. They’d talked about the weather, politics, Franklin’s kids, Nathaniel’s newest thoroughbred, and the cost of cheese. He had no idea Franklin had expensive tastes in cheese. Well, at least he knew what to get the man for Christmas, elusive bastard that he was. Nathaniel looked at his watch and sighed. It was nearly 8:30 and they were plum out of things to talk about. The woman was a no-show; probably the first time in three weeks she hadn’t come knocking.

“Half an hour more and we’re outside the window,” Franklin stated.

Nathaniel nodded.
Perhaps we can talk about microbrews and cheese pairings.
That was really all he had left. He wanted to get home and see how Emmy was doing with her mother. Victor had taken Sean out to some sports bar somewhere they never went. Get him away from Emmy as much as possible. That was mission critical, and so far, after two days, they were doing well.

He and Franklin snapped their heads up as the elevator at the end of the hall, out of sight dinged, and the door slid open. They could hear two people walking down the hall, one with the grace of a woman and one with the inexperienced walk of an awkward pre-teen boy. Franklin nodded and smiled.

They stopped in front of the door that would have been the right distance for Emmy’s. They heard a knock.

“Mama,
tse nerozhumno
,” came the young boy’s voice.

Nathaniel was confused. That wasn’t English.

“
Tichiye
,” came the answer. “
Tse vasha sistra. Nam potribna dopomoga.
”

It sounded so much like Russian, but there was something just off…
Ukrainian
! Nathaniel gasped and stepped out from behind the wall and caught Franklin’s gesture to stay still, but ignored it.

“Can I help you?” Nathaniel asked. The woman—black haired, bright blue eyes and a very European look to her clothes—gasped and took a step back. Nathaniel took his own step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Is there a reason you’re knocking on this door?”

“I’m sorry,” she spoke, with a very Pavel Checkov accent. “Did I disturb you?”

“Not at all,” Nathaniel assured her.

“I’m looking for Madel…I mean Emmy Westerly. I was told this is where she lives. Do you know if I have the right place? No one answers the door.”

“That’s Emmy’s apartment, but she doesn’t live there anymore,” he explained, so curious he just wanted to scream.

“
Chort
,” she mumbled. “Do you know where I can find her?”

“Why are you looking for her?”

“Who are you, sir?” she asked, stepping slightly ahead of the boy with her.

“I’m Nathaniel Walsh. Emmy is my girlfriend. You’ve been on the cameras for weeks now, coming and knocking and leaving. Who are you?”

“Ah.” She cleared her throat. “I am Sarinya Westerly.”

He froze. It took him a full minute to process what she’d just said. He blinked a few times and then finally his brain started to reset. “Westerly. Sarinya Westerly. You’re dead.”

“See, Mama, I told you they didn’t—”

“Pavel,
tichiye
!” she snapped.

“Paul,” he snapped back.

The boy looked just like Emmy. Same hair, same nose, same eyes. Nathaniel raised a numb arm to point at him. “Paul Westerly. This is your son?”

“Mine and David’s,” she said.

“How is this happening?” he mumbled. “You were killed in a car accident.”

The relief the woman felt nearly bowled him over. She was delighted he knew part of the story. “They issued a death certificate for me, yes,” she spoke fast. “But I was not the one who was killed in the car wreck. My husband and the other driver, a woman named Sarinya, were the ones who were killed. I have been stuck behind that death certificate for twelve years, and it’s only been in the last year I have finally started to get everything cleared up.”

Nathaniel stared at her for a long moment. “Do you have any idea what this is going to do to Emmy? What you’re going to do to her?”

Sarinya looked terrified. “I don’t want to hurt her. I know she suffered much when the news of David’s death came through—”

“She is going to pass out, wake up and never let you go again,” he said, and he couldn’t stop the smile on his face. “We—wait. Let’s not stand in the hallway.”

Franklin had the door to the apartment open in a heartbeat and Nathaniel ushered them in. He led them to the kitchen at the other end of the apartment and motioned for them to sit at the table. He sat and blinked a few times, staring at this woman. This was Emmy’s step-mother. This was the woman she had adored, and her father had married.

And had a child with. Emmy had never mentioned a brother.

“Can you please explain what’s going on here?” Nathaniel asked. “Please. Emmy thinks you’re dead.”

“Of course,” Sarinya said. “But where is Emmy?”

“She’s at my house, having dinner with her mother and sister.” 

“Her mother is here?”

“For a week, for a visit.”

“Perhaps this is a bad time?”

“No,” Nathaniel said, quickly. “Any time someone you’ve thought to be dead shows up, it’s not a bad time.”

Sarinya laughed. “You make it sound like this happens to you all the time, Mr. Walsh.”

He laughed as well. “No, not really.”

She took a moment to compose herself, and cleared her throat. “David and I were driving from Paris to Chernivitsi to visit my parents. We were going to tell them they were going to be grandparents, I was just four months pregnant. The pass through the Carpathians was dangerous in the summer, it was downright treacherous in the winter. I never had a doubt David would do fine on the road. We had the Land Rover and he was a very good driver. What I completely forgot was that other people didn’t fair nearly as well as he did in the snow.

“The woman was going way too fast on a good day, and it was not a good day. She hit the patch of ice and lost control, driving straight into the driver’s side of the car. She and David were killed instantly. I was taken to the hospital, unconscious. Somewhere along the line, our IDs got switched. The other woman and I shared a first name. An odd first name. Whomever was sorting things out, didn’t speak English, which our licenses were in, and gave me the wrong purse.

“I’ve spent eleven years correcting this. The governments in Eastern Europe were and really still are notoriously slow to do anything, but they were fighting me on this, even with my parents standing there waving my birth certificate in their faces. Even with my son in my arms. They just didn’t care.

“We were living off the good graces of my parents. I couldn’t get in or out of the Ukraine. I couldn’t get to our estate in Montenegro. I didn’t have my flute. I was playing the worst piano on the planet. Eventually, I was able to get a chair on the Ukrainian National Symphony and they were happy to pay me in cash when I explained the situation.

“And two months ago, the government finally reversed the certificates the way they were supposed to be. Me, alive, and Sarinya Polodonya dead. Her parents were happy, as well. They couldn’t put her to rest until they had the certificate. Awful.

“And since it’s been well past seven years, I’m beyond the statute of limitations to claim the part of our estate which is ours. I can’t prove I’ve been playing for the Ukrainian Symphony because they never issued me a single check. I don’t know what to do to support my son. I was hoping perhaps Emmy would be willing to at least let us stay at the house in Montenegro. There’s not much more than the house and a few hundred thousand dollars, but we need a place to stay. I don’t want to step back into the Ukraine for a very long time.”

Nathaniel let the silence hang for a moment. Montenegro.
My girlfriend has an estate in Montenegro. I wonder if she even knows that.
What would Emmy want to do here? Her step-mother was here, alive, and came with a brother for her. She would want them nearby, cared for, and certainly, she would have no problem giving her the house in Montenegro.

“Where are you staying?”

“There is a hotel outside the city, about twenty miles—”

Nathaniel took her hand and put the key to the apartment into her hand. “Stay here. Emmy would like that. She’s at my place now and you need this.” He looked at Paul sitting there. “What have you two been eating?”

“Whatever I can afford. Which I confess, has not been much. Taco Bell. McDonald’s. Burger—”

“Jesus,” he swore, pulling out his wallet. He put money on the table. “Stock the fridge. If you need more, let me know. Franklin.”

“Sir?”

“Get Mrs. Westerly a phone, and get her stuff from that hotel. She’ll be staying here as long as she needs.”

Sarinya grabbed his hand. “Emmy. May I see her?”

Nathaniel smiled. “How would you like to come to her party on Saturday afternoon? I’ll make sure the two of you have plenty of time to chat and catch up. There are going to be all kinds of influential people there and we’ll see if we can’t get them interested in hiring you back into an orchestra.”

“Her party?”

“We’re having a barbeque.” He grinned. “You must dress up too. Franklin?”

“Very good, Mr. Walsh,” Franklin said, knowing Nathaniel wanted him to take her shopping for the clothes.

“You are going to be the best thing at that party, Sarinya.” He caught the silhouette of Paul sitting there, and laughed. “Okay. Second best thing.”

Chapter Twelve

Emmy noticed her mother had unknotted herself a bit as they went through the days without her step-father tagging along. Emmy, Alyssa and Ally had walked around checking out some of the stores downtown, and wound up eating at the café where they found Chantal sitting and having her lunch.

They headed for a few more of the boutiques, but Emmy found herself mostly shopped out. Not having to worry about how much was in her bank account was an interesting sensation.

“I can’t believe it took me this long to come out here and see his place,” Alyssa said. “I really should have come out when you graduated college.”

Emmy shrugged.
Yeah, that would have been a bad idea.
“It’s okay, mom. I understand money’s always tight with Sean not working.”

“He can’t work, sweetheart.”

Why? Because he’s a lazy shit?
“I know.”

“I just imagined I could give Ally a good life, not let her see us struggle the way you did.” Alyssa sighed. “And yet here we are, still in the same trailer, still paying the same bills.”

“Mom, I’m good.” Ally rolled her eyes.

“Oh, but you two deserve so much more than I could give you,” she worried. “Emmy, I wish your father had—”

“Stop,” Emmy commanded. “He’s dead. Nothing is going to change that. You were divorced.”

“He could have—”

“I said stop,” she snapped and then instantly cringed. Using her Domme voice on her mother, not cool. “How’s work going?”

Alyssa smiled weakly. “Oh, you know. The gossips are always trying to find another someone to pick on.” The tactic worked; Alyssa started prattling on about the different people in the office and didn’t once stop to consider whether Emmy wanted to hear about what Alyssa did and not who was dating whom and who was brown-nosing the boss.

Later, as the perused another clothing store, Ally smiled at her sister as they leaned against the wall outside the dressing room on a bench. “Nice trick,” she whispered.

“What?” Emmy asked.

“Getting Mom to shut it,” she said, messing with her smartphone. “Can you teach me how to do that? She drives me crazy sometimes with her ‘woe is us’ routine.” She shook the smartphone as demonstration. “How woe are we if I have one of these?”

“You’re spoiled, brat.” Emmy laughed.

“Seriously, teach me how you did that.”

“Oh, no.” Emmy shook her head. “No way. You’re just gonna have to find your own way to do it.”

“I wish you lived closer, so we could hang out and shit.” Ally sighed.

“I have a phone too, dork. And this is crazy, but text me maybe?”

Ally almost fell off the bench, she was laughing so hard. “O-m-g!! I so did not expect Papagena to come out with that one!”

“Oh, Nathaniel is schooling me on pop music, but I heard that one on the radio the other day. Got stuck in the brain. Quite useful. Clearly, amusing as well.” Emmy giggled, helping her back onto the seat.

Ally looked at the dressing room. “Are Nathaniel and Vic trying to keep you and Dad apart?”

Emmy looked at her sister. “Yeah, they are.”

“Why?”

“Sean and I don’t get along,” She was honest. “It’s why I moved out here.”

“You moved five hundred miles away because you don’t get along?” Ally asked, looking at her as only a teenager could.

“It’s really complicated, Ally.” Emmy waved her off. “Really fucking complicated. I can’t just explain why we don’t get along, because it’s not just one simple reason. And you don’t need to worry about that.”

Emmy looked over at her sister who was gazing back at her. She really hoped she never had to tell her sister why she and Sean didn’t get along. But she didn’t want to lie to her either, which was why she was avoiding an answer. “Look, just tell me your father does right by you, and you’re okay, and someday I promise you’ll understand.”

“I was six when you left,” she said. “I hated you for a while.”

“I know.” Emmy put an arm around her. “But, I’m okay with that. I hoped you might not hate me.”

“Nah, I don’t hate you now.” Ally hugged her back. “But you can’t avoid Dad the whole trip.”

“Watch me try,” Emmy said dryly.

“Wow.” Ally’s eyes widened. “There’s that voice again.”

Ah shit.
Emmy picked a nail. She was kind of starting to doubt she’d be able to keep it up another three and a half days. She was also starting to worry about sending her mother and sister back to that piece of shit trailer Sean insisted was all they could afford. 

Ally held up the phone and broke the odd silence. “He spoils me, rotten. Anything he even remotely thinks I might want, he buys me. I have an iPad, a Mac Airbook, an AlienWear desktop. I have clothes from American Eagle and Abercrombie and Fitch. He bought me a damn Louis Vuitton Hunting messenger bag for school. Do you know what those things cost?”

“Three thousand.” Emmy came up with the number quickly.

“Exactly,” Ally said. “Did you know Mom needed a biopsy on her breast and even with the insurance we couldn’t ‘afford’ it?” Emmy turned her head and looked at Ally, suddenly feeling like she wanted to puke. “I sold the Louis on Ebay so I could pay for it. I stashed the rest away in my room in case we need it for something else.”

“Oh, God, Ally. You shouldn’t have to do that!”

“Dad is completely irrational when it comes to me. I don’t understand it. I can’t even say, ‘hey, I like that’ around him, or it’s going to end up in my possession.”

“Look, if Mom needs the money for anything that has to do with medical, you call me. You understand? You call me and I will give you the money,” Emmy emphasized. “I had no idea she had to do a breast biopsy.”

“Completely benign. They were just being cautious.”

“She should have told me.”

“She doesn’t want you to worry,” she answered.

“For fuck’s sake, she’s my mother,” Emmy barked.

“Again with the voice,” Ally said.

“Argh!” Emmy stood and walked away.

Ally ran after her and grabbed her elbow. “Chill out. You’re so touchy, sis. I’m just telling you that you have this tone I feel like I can’t disobey and what you’re saying is the last word.”

Emmy sagged against the clothing rack. “It’s only been three days, but just knowing Sean is here is wearing me out. I know we’ve only seen him at dinner most nights, but it’s killing me. Ally, I wish I didn’t feel this way about your father, but I do. He’s fucking up our mother’s life, so much. He won’t pay for a biopsy? Whatever happened to love, honor, cherish, through sickness and health? Did he ever love or cherish Mom? I thought things would be different when you were born. I wanted them to be. But instead of caring about Mom, the woman who had given birth to you, he focused everything we had on you.”

Ally looked sad and Emmy wanted to kick herself in the ass, hard. She sagged harder against the clothes rack. “I can’t do any goddamn relationships right.” Emmy sighed.

Ally grabbed her and hugged her fiercely. “No, no, it’s not you! It’s Dad. He’s just fucking everything up for all of us.”

Emmy had a horrible flash of fear for her sister. “Oh, my God, Allison. Please, please, tell me if Sean has done anything to you. Please.”

“To me?” Ally laughed. “Never to me. Never to the perfect offspring of his loins.”

“Mom?” Allison swallowed, looking very much like she wanted to run. Emmy tightened her arms around her in a careful hug. This time, she used her Domme voice on purpose. “What has he done?”

Allison sucked in a breath, shocked, then looked at her. “Let me go, please. I’ll tell you, I swear.”

“You’re not going to run.” She didn’t make a question.

“I won’t run.” Emmy released her and looked at her, waiting. “He’s hit her. The whole reason the biopsy came up was because she was in the hospital for a,” Ally flipped her fingers as air quotes “slip and fall. Dad pushed her out the front door and she flipped over the railing of the porch and hit the patio, landing on her shoulder. It bruised up so bad. Once Dad went off to drink for the night, I called a taxi to take us to the hospital so she could get checked out. She made me swear to never tell anyone what really happened.”

“Had he hit her before? He never touched her when I was there.”

“He’s slapped her a few times, but nothing like that.” 

“How long has this been going on?”

“I don’t know.” She hugged herself tightly. “I was kind of in denial about it, but when he shoved her out the door, I couldn’t deny it anymore. Emmy, I want to get her out of there. She’s frail. Even I know that. She’s not a strong person. She’s got health issues and she’s...well...” Ally sighed. “She’s Mom, y’know?”

“I do,” Emmy huffed. “But you and I both know we can’t make her walk away from your dad. We can’t make her do anything.” Emmy put her hand on Allison’s cheek. “But if he ever, and I mean ever, so much as raises a hand to you, you’re to call me and let me know and we’ll get both of you the hell out of there.”

Ally stared at her, and there was a long pause. Emmy really hoped Allison was telling her the truth. She would kill Sean if he laid a hand on her sister.

Allison blinked. “What the hell did he do to you, Emmy?”

“Hey, girls!” Alyssa chirped, walking over with a few outfits on her arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the biopsy, Mom?” Emmy asked, breaking the stare between her and her sister. “You should have called me.”

“Allison!” Alyssa deflated. “I told you not to say anything.”

“You try disobeying that dominatrix tone she’s got,” Ally explained, sticking her tongue out.

“Watch it, sis, you’ll find the wrong end of my paddle.” Emmy stuck her tongue out too and then turned back to Alyssa. “Mom, you should have told me.”

“It was benign, sweetie.” She waved her hand. “Nothing to worry about.”

“You’re not nothing to worry about, Mom,” Emmy said. “You have to stop acting like I live in Antarctica. I’m in Pittsburgh. I can be there in a day if you need me. Either by car or by plane. You’re my mother and I worry about you.”

Alyssa sighed. “You have your own life out here, Emmy. I didn’t want to worry you, really I didn’t. I was going to tell you if it had been something to worry about.”

“Well, then,” Emmy persisted. “I hereby request you call me when you go to the doctors and let me know what’s going on. Not after you visit, not when you find out it’s good or bad, but just call me to tell me what’s going on. Please.”

Alyssa stared at her. Emmy couldn’t believe she found it in her to do that, make that demand. She always felt like her mother shut her out on purpose, to not have to deal with her own feelings about screwing up her first marriage to Emmy’s father. But here, on her turf, her city, in her life, Emmy found she could ask her mother to include her. She hoped her mother could see she honestly wanted to know what was going on in Alyssa’s life.

And finally, her mother nodded. “Yes, of course,” she agreed. “I’m sorry. I should have called you and talked to you. I wish you’d come to Boston more often.”

“Never,” Emmy insisted. “Not ever. I’m sorry, once a year is all I can handle.” She looked at the clothes in her mother’s arms. “You like those?”

“I do.” She smiled. “I was going to ask Ally to take a few pictures so I could see if I could find them in a thrift store.”

“Horse balls,” Emmy fussed, taking them out of her mother’s arms. “My boyfriend is rich, so I’m buying.”

“Emmy—”

“No, Mom.” She was adamant. “I’m buying them for you. Ally, pick out a few outfits.”

“Really?” Ally questioned.

“Yes.” Emmy was emphatic. “Really.” She looked at her watch. “Let’s go pick out your stuff, and then we have to get to the soup kitchen. I have to serve tonight.”

“Soup kitchen?” Ally asked.

“Every Wednesday,” she explained. “You two can catch a movie if you like.”

“No,” Ally said. “I’ve never been to one. I’d like to go and help, if I can.”

“Sure,” Emmy agreed, with a smile. Her heart leapt a little hearing Allison had never been to one. “We have some cooking to do.”

~*~*~

Emmy held the door open for her mother and sister and froze as she walked in. The place smelled clean like fresh bread. It wafted around the room, making her mouth water, and as she looked back to the kitchen, she saw Nathaniel and Victor in chef’s coats and hats dueling with wooden spoons, and Toni standing nearby laughing her ass off.

She started laughing and walked toward the kitchen. “What the hell are you two doing?”

“I’m fighting for your honor, m’lady!” Nathaniel declared.

“She’s no lady!” Victor yelled, and jabbed with the spoon. “You are a cad! You have robbed me of my most noble secretary! I demand compensation! I—” He was interrupted by a beeping, and put the spoon down. “Bread’s done.”

Toni looked over at her. “They’ve been here all day baking bread and making cakes. He bought out all the rotisserie chickens at all the local stores, and some not so local. There’s nothing, but fresh veggies and fruit tonight. And suddenly they started fighting over you and it degraded to this dishonorable spoon fight.”

“Victory is mine!” Nathaniel yelled and ran by Victor, whacking him on the arm with his spoon. He stopped and put his hand up and dropped his head. “And the crowd goes wild.”

“Oh, no!” Ally yelled, just as Emmy snuck up behind him and dumped a glass of water over Nathaniel’s head.

Nathaniel gasped from the wet and cold and his eyes flew to Emmy. A wicked, sexual grin formed on his face, and his eyes went wide. Emmy realized what she’d just done and grabbed Victor’s wooden spoon to defend herself.
Oh, shit. I totally just played into the game.
He put his elbows at his waist and put his hands out, wiggling his fingers. “You’re in deep shit now, mademoiselle,” he teased.

He walked forward and Emmy swallowed her smile as best as she could. As soon as he got close enough, she rapped him lightly on the knuckles in a warning tap. His eyebrows shot up and he came at her again. This time, seeing as he didn’t appear to remember her mother and sister were standing there, she rapped him harder, this one not a friendly warning, but a command to stop. He pulled up short, and came back to himself in the next instant. He pounced and pulled her into an embrace, giving her a kiss and leaning into her ear.

“Sorry, Mistress,” he breathed. “I want you so bad right now.”

“You can have me later,” she whispered, and stepped back. “As you can see, sir, I am quite capable of defending my own honor.”

“Indeed, mademoiselle, I have been schooled,” he acquiesced.

Don’t answer, don’t answer.
If she answered him, there was no way she was going to make it through serving tonight. Victor cleared his throat. “Well, now that the sexual tension in here is up to our eyeballs, let’s see if we can serve some bread and soup, eh?”