COVET: Deceptive Desires (14 page)

CHAPTER 22

The small town went about their daily lives while Raven’s life was at a pause. She had parted ways with Liam’s parents at the airport. He took her home in silence. As he drove, she kept her face toward the window, watching the world go by. Liam carried her suitcase to the porch, but never looked her in the eye or tried to kiss her good-bye.

For the next couple of days, Raven waited patiently for her mother to call about Otis, though her gut told her Charlene wasn’t going to make good on her promise. In the meantime, she prepared for her high school graduation and waited for the paternity test between herself and Jonathan. For the past two months, her life was consumed with learning about her paternal lineage. The
last
thing she wanted to learn was that Jonathan was her father. That would mean an end to her relationship with Liam as she knew it.
Best friend. Lover
. To be the half-sister of the man she loved and having to look into his face for the rest of her life without being able to pursue that love made her feel empty. Charlene had snatched a piece of her soul away.

The alternative?
To be the daughter of a psychopathic rapist. Do I have his striking blue eyes?

At this point, it was either gouge out her eyes or cut out her heart! Be the rapist’s child or be related to the man she loved.

She felt too humiliated to tell Annette about her mixed emotions.
So far, Annette spent most of her time at the hospital. When she came home after Raven arrived from L.A., they didn’t do much talking about the visit with Charlene. It was evident that she wanted to ask more questions. Instead, she had listened to Raven talk about meeting her mother and the paternity test. Raven’s body had been frozen while she spoke about the trip. Then Annette had good news. The pneumonia has passed, and the doctor was hopeful that Otis might be strong enough to start radiation therapy soon.
Hopeful.

That day she picked up her phone to call Liam, but hung up before it had the chance to connect. They hadn’t seen each other since returning from California. He hadn’t called, nor had he left any romantic songs on her voicemail like usual. During the last week of school, she hadn’t even put her cell phone on silent. It never rang.

CHAPTER 23

Pierre Delacroix beheld the lush green view from the window of his Gulf-stream jet as it prepared to land. Elise had called him from Los Angeles a few days ago. The investment board of the Delacroix Corporation was in a dilemma, and he wasn’t his usual confident self. He wanted to tell his daughter to just come home and send his grandson back to France. Forget all about that no-good husband of hers. Elise wasn’t being as receptive as normal. Trouble was brewing in North Carolina, and he’d be damned if his wayward daughter believed so much in herself.  Elise wasn't fit to handle this situation herself. He’d send someone, but Elise was the overseer of his legacy.

Yes, I’ll force Elise to leave the fool. Liam will come willingly, of course.
Jonathan wasn’t competent as a lawyer, anyhow. To make matters worse, Jonathan was ruining his image. Pierre heard from various business partners he’d been gracious enough to send his son-in-law’s way for business, that Jonathan was cheating on Elise. He would deal with that soon. Besides, he had important business with his grandson, and forcing Liam to move to Paris wouldn’t help his legacy.

The legacy had to act on free choice. With a dose of persuasion, he planned on returning to the north of France with his grandson by the end of the week. He hadn’t molded the boy for years for nothing. Bringing him home had always been in the cards.

Pierre unstrapped his seat belt, determined that Liam would be the son he never had. Liam would be better than the son-in-law he
did
have.
Liam, will be my Number One.
Pierre grinned. He’d let Elise think he was coming solely to help her with her “little issues.” Anything she currently dealt with couldn’t be that important, could it?

The Lemaître’s chauffeur was already on site with the family–technically, Pierre’s–Phantom. His personal butler had his luggage in the trunk of the Rolls Royce before he stepped foot off the jet.

His first plan of action was to talk with that no-good Jonathan, give the guy a little scare. If only he’d left Elise in Paris when coming to visit his college buddy George.
It’s too late to admit regret. We never admit regret now, do we, Pierre?
Pierre sighed. His conscious was correct, as always.

When he arrived at the mansion that he had built for his daughter, Elise was in the living room waiting. The “talk” with Jonathan would have to wait. She bestowed him with kisses and a hearty hug, looking as beautiful as ever. For a moment, he was transported back to Paris. Elise was a toddler, blunt-cut platinum blonde hair to her chin, framing an angelic smile. She’d never been angelic to anyone but him; not the maids, her many au pairs, not even her mother. And yet, she had a smile that brightened her porcelain skin. She wore pink fluffy pajamas, the ones with enclosed feet.
How adorable.
She’d smile, and those green eyes would take his breath away every time he came home from a business trip or a vacation with one of his many mistresses.

Yet, now, his daughter didn’t hold him in such reverie. Though she hid it well, Pierre detected a bit of worry. Worry as to why her father made the impromptu visit. And did he also sense fear, a minute sense of fear?

~~~

“My darling little girl, I come bearing gifts.” Snapping his fingers, Pierre signaled for his butler. The butler placed the luggage on posh carpet and stood at attention, white-gloved hands holding a cherry oak box. With a fifty-thousand-dollar veneer smile, Pierre showed his daughter his latest antique discovery.

 “Oh, Papa.” Elise gave him a blank stare.
I have more important things to worry about.
Unable to stop herself, Elise inquired, “What are those distasteful rings in that gaudy container?”

“They’re spoon rings that date back to the early 1800s from the King of England. Do you see the authentic family crest?” Pierre pointed to the design. “Servants stole silverware to construct their own wedding rings. Suppose I should mention their worth?”

Elise folded her arms.

Frowning, he waved to the butler to take away the box immediately.

She signaled for the double doors. “We must talk privately, Papa.”

Pierre looked around. There was no one in sight, at least not besides his butler. Though each of his servants signed a confidentially clause, written in blood, Pierre nodded. The butler pardoned himself, as Pierre took a seat on a French Louis XVI walnut chair.

“Papa, we have a problem.” Elise played with the pearls of her necklace.

“It’s the girl,” he stated knowingly.

“How’d you…” Elise’s throat constricted, she attempted the tiniest gulp so as not to let on how imperative the situation was.

“Raven Shaw. My grandson adored her, he mentioned her on numerous occasions as a child. Estella had a hard time persuading him not to call her, when you first brought him to me. The maids were advised not to mail the countless letters addressed to her, and…” Pierre rubbed his thumb against his lapel. “Should I have—”

“No! Don’t you dare arrange anything of the sort. Papa, it’s puppy love,” Elise again tried to downplay the situation. She’d heard the whispers before, about her not having a heart. Fuck it they were right, but not regarding her son. She wouldn’t allow her father to rid Liam of Raven
indefinitely
. “Raven is a child, murdering her isn’t—”

“And Liam is my legacy!” Pierre’s fist slammed down onto the pillar beside him. The crystal vase atop the pillar went clattering, yet didn’t crash to the floor.

Elise recoiled like the wayward juvenile she once was, he composed himself. “I understand that Liam is bullheaded, like you. He’ll need a level of independence before fulfilling his duties, which has obviously been granted, seeing that I
allowed
him to return to the States! One day, he’d like to head the D-Hotel Corporation, I admire that. The architectural design, the makings of tranquility have always made this portion of our businesses a delight. No little whore with money-signs in her eyes is going to force my legacy to deviate from his path!”

But Liam is smart.
Elise knew that one day Liam would find out of her murder, it was a given. You don’t become a powerful entity without exhausting the competition or, those who slow you down rather.
You wouldn’t allow me to be close to Liam, while raising him, but my son won’t forgive me of this, that’s unallowable.

“Papa, I implore you to listen to me,” she said. Her thoughts of losing the only son she had and loved evident in her eyes. She knew her father didn’t operate on emotions.  But had faith that Pierre gave a damn about her, instead of some idiotic legacy.

“Listen to me, please. Liam is the apple of your eye.” Her own eyes glistened with tears, but it had been years since she cried, and even more since she had to use tears to her defense. “Liam
is
your legacy. He is not becoming your legacy. You have worked so very well with him, Papa. I have another way…”

Pierre listened intently. It was indeed a very
big
problem; it had the potential of ruining their family name. Scandal like this would be front page on gossip magazines that rivaled Delacroix Communications. He would have to talk to Jonathan at once.

~~~

Yesterday, Elise hadn’t been entirely truthful with her father. She’d mentioned Jonathan possibly being Raven’s father. As persuaded, Pierre connected the dots of a very sordid affair. Yet, the only wrong Liam had done was love someone beneath him. There were no issues with them being related.

Years ago, she’d set a plan in action so it would appear that Jonathan was the father of
her
son, Liam.

Liam was not a Lemaître. But he was Delacroix, through and through.

The boy was a lover just like his father–his
real
father, Zane Anderson.

Zane was an Aboriginal singer from Australian, on tour in Paris. The most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on. They fucked quick, hard, and just as the secret affair launched, the very married with guitar and hand, and sultry voice, Zane swept out of the teenage Elise’s life. Though she never saw him again, her soul fed off those memories.

Almost two months later, with a dose of morning sickness, Elise became worried. Though her father owned many of the gossip magazines in Paris, his competition always had a field day whenever she did anything wrong. At the age of thirteen, there were shots of Elise drinking and snorting coke at a pub in London. It was on the first page of the gossip magazines rivalling Delacroix Communications. She was spotted dancing on tables, high as a kite in a Russian nightclub at the age of fifteen that was front page news, also. Her family sought blood for each captured indiscretion. Elise didn’t want Zane’s head on a platter at Pierre’s bidding, or her father forcing an affluent young man to be her mate. Or worse, no Liam at all. In a world full of maids, a supermodel mother, an ever traveling father, she only had love when throwing cash around. Liam would be the first person who loved her unconditionally.

Pregnant, Elise noticed Jonathan Lemaître, the spitting image of Zane Anderson, with his family picture framed in Pierre’s office. It was next to an old picture of both their fathers in college; she remembered her father’s talk about his old friend, George. Pierre had an altruistic nature. George hadn’t made much of himself after college, well, besides small town politics. Her father helped his old friend. Elise helped remove all obstacles while helping herself to his son.

~~~

Pierre said he’d spoken with Jonathan, and though Elise knew not the specifics, it would seem that everything worked out fine. Sitting at the vanity in her master suite, Elise determined it was time to be productive. The Brinton Museum Annual Gala had Elise’s name all over it, which meant it must be perfect.

“Lucinda!” Elise snapped, applying blush to a porcelain-carved cheekbone.

The maid was at the doorframe within seconds. “Yes, ma’am?” She gasped for air.

“Go to the attic and bring me those spoon ring.”

The spoon rings that her father brought from England made for a great art subsection. The image of her many friends commending her made a genuine smile perk the edges of her thin lips. The maid scurried away, only to return in record time with the lacquered box. Lucinda’s eyes were guilty as sin as she opened it.

“Why is one missing?” Elise pointed her mascara wand at her maid. It would be ironic for her servant to steal a spoon that was stolen from its master centuries ago.

“Liam took one,” Lucinda whispered, gaze to the ground.

Elise gave her a sideways glance. Did this woman lie to her face? Mother’s instincts made her eyes close momentarily. “How did my son know about the rings?”

“Pierre had me bring them down from the attic when Liam came. He showed them to Liam. When I put them back in the attic, one was gone.”

“Well, I don–” Elise stopped mid-sentence, one hand to her chest, breathing in and out.
What if Liam used the ring to propose to Raven? I thought Papa fixed this problem, not twenty-four hours ago!

 “You are excused.” Lost in her thoughts, Elise looked through Lucinda as if she were a ghost. The maid backed away and out of the room. Leaning back, Elise groaned.