Fortune (41 page)

S
kye let herself out of her apartment and descended the single flight of stairs to the building's main foyer. Her trip to Milan had been exciting, exhilarating, exhausting. She would have loved every minute if not for the confusion of her thoughts. About Griffen and his proposal. About her feelings for Chance. She had promised Griffen his answer tonight. Though she had thought about it night and day, she still wasn't sure what that answer would be.

As if her thoughts had drawn Chance to her, there he was, right outside her front door, waiting for her, shoulders hunched into his leather bomber jacket, face red from the cold wind.

Skye's steps faltered. She didn't want to see him, not tonight. Not when she had the biggest decision of her life to make. Not when she was already confused.

Before she could back away, he turned. Their eyes met. There was no sneaking out the back way now, Skye acknowledged. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she let herself out of her building, the security door automatically locking behind her.

He looked like hell, disheveled, cold and desperate. She denied the way that tugged at her emotions. “You could have buzzed me,” she said.

“Would you have let me in?”

“No.” She shivered and pulled her light wrap closer around her, neither it nor her beaded evening gown much protection from the cold January night, wishing she hadn't lost her last pair of gloves. “But you wouldn't have had to stand out here in the cold for nothing. I suggest you go home.”

She started down the steps; he followed her. “We need to talk, Skye.”

“I don't think so, Chance. I think we've said everything to each other that there is to say. And more than once.” She edged past him, descending the last steps to the sidewalk. “I have a party to go to.”

“Have you decided, Skye? Are you going to marry him?”

She stopped and looked back over her shoulder at him. “That's none of your damn business. Good night.”

He came after her then, catching her arm and turning her to face him. “I have to know, Skye. It's important.”

“Why? Have you decided now that you want me for yourself? Is that why you were lurking around outside my building?” She could tell by his expression that he didn't, and she tugged against his grasp, furious. With him. With herself. Would she always play the fool for this man? “I thought not. Let me go, Chance. I'm late.”

Instead, he caught her other arm. Her keys slipped from her fingers and clattered to the sidewalk. “He's crazy, Skye. He's obsessed with you.”

“Obsessed?” she repeated, her voice quaking with the force of her anger. “Give me a break. Maybe you've never encountered it before, Chance, but it's called love.”

“It's not love.” When she tried to pull away, he tightened his grip. “Listen to me, Skye. He tried to kill us.”

The blood rushed to her head. “What?”

“The other night. He was out of his mind.” He quickly described the harrowing drive in which Griffen had deliberately spun his Porsche into a brick wall.

“You're lying.” She shook her head. “That's nuts.”

“Exactly. Skye—” He lowered his hands to hers, clasping them tightly. His were ice cold. “He's behind it all. My business, my clients terminating me. He called them all, he told them lies about me and my actions. For fun, Skye.”

“My God.” She took a step backward, searching his expression, understanding suddenly. “Now I see what you're doing.”

“I'm trying to warn you, that's all. Griffen's dangerous.”

“No.” She shook her head again, the truth hitting her with the force of a wrecking ball. “Your business is crumbling and you want to blame someone else. You want to punish Griffen because you're so…because you're so jealous.”

“That's not it. Skye, how can you say that? You know me.”

“No, no, I don't. I thought I did.” She backed away. “But I don't.”

“He's unbalanced, Skye. He said if he couldn't have you, nobody would. I think he meant it.”

“You're the one who's unbalanced. I offered you my heart, Chance. You threw it back in my face.
‘Stay with Griffen,'
you said.
‘Love Griffen, not me. Griffen can offer you everything.'
Now you want me to do the opposite?”

Tears stung her eyes, and she cursed them, determined that they wouldn't fall. “Really, Chance, at least you could keep your lines straight. Or are you really that confused?”

“I'll tell you I love you to keep you from marrying him. Skye, I'm frightened for you.”

She stared at him, his words a blow to her ego. Her heart. In that moment, she made her decision. Her answer to Griffen was yes. Chance really did have nothing to offer her.

“You'd even tell me you love me? What a great and terrible sacrifice, Chance,” she said softly, voice cracking. “How noble. I guess you played my big brother and protector for so long, it's hard to shake the role.” She bent and snatched her keys off the sidewalk. “But I've got a news flash for you, I'm all grown-up. And I can take care of myself. I've been doing it a long time.”

She turned and walked away. He called after her.

“You don't love him, Skye. I know you don't.”

She stopped and swung to face him. “Don't you get it? He loves me. He's devoted to me. I know he'll never leave me.”

“That's obsession, Skye. Not love.”

“Maybe so, but you know what? That's what I need. That's what's important to me. I need forever, Chance. That's why I'm going to marry him.”

This time, when she walked away, he didn't come after her.

L
akeshore Drive was nearly deserted. Skye sat in the passenger seat of Griffen's Porsche, hands folded in her lap, staring straight ahead. The ring on the fourth finger of her left hand felt too heavy. Foreign and wrong. She twisted it, wishing she could take it off but knowing she couldn't. Not ever.

Griffen reached across the seat and covered her folded hands. “Skye, my darling, you've made me the happiest man on earth.”

“I'm glad.” She lowered her gaze to the ring. The stone was magnificent, the artist in her couldn't help delighting in its brilliance, its icy fire. She just wished she could admire it on somebody else's finger.

Guilty for her thoughts, she turned her face toward the side window and looked out at the vast darkness of Lake Michigan as they sped past. She should be happy. She should be about ready to bust with pride and pleasure; she should want to shout her good fortune from the top of the Sear's Tower, loud enough for all Chicago to hear. Instead, she felt like whimpering.

What was wrong with her?

Chance. The things he'd said tumbled through her head, undermining her confidence in her decision, ruining a moment that should be one of the best of her life. He'd said Griffen had tried to kill them, that he'd rammed his car into a brick wall. Yet here she was, riding in that same Porsche, a car that was running so well it purred like a kitten.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“I was just thinking how well the car's running.” Her cheeks heated at the lie. “Has it been in the shop?”

“Nope. Just out and about in Chicago.”

She let out a breath she hadn't even realized she held. “Oh.”

“You sound disappointed. Would you like me to put it in the shop?”

Chance had lied. About everything, all along.
Tears stung her eyes. She called herself an idiot for wanting to believe him, for holding on to that hope.

“No. Of course not.” She forced a smile. “Only an observation.”

He cut her a quick, concerned glance. “Are you all right?”

“Fine, just tired. I must be suffering from jet lag.”

She pushed away thoughts of Chance. She would focus on the future, her future, her forever with Griffen.

She had everything now. Her every wish had come true.

Be careful what you wish for…

“Tonight's the night, love. The night you become completely mine.”

Griffen covered her hands again, and she felt his tremble. Something about that small quiver made her uneasy.

“I've waited so long,” he continued. “You can't imagine, darling.”

His words proved a prophecy. Skye couldn't have imagined the horror of his hands on her. Their lovemaking took on the quality of a distorted, surrealistic nightmare. She found the act almost unholy, dark and frightening, although he was not rough with her.

Indeed, the opposite was true. He held himself taut, controlled; she felt it in the way he quivered, like a bow stretched to the limit, felt it in the thin line of sweat that ran down his spine and beaded his upper lip.

Almost unable to bear his hands on her, Skye squeezed her eyes shut. When she did, strange images played on the back of her lids, images that she recognized somehow, but couldn't make out. They mixed with the sounds he made, low and feral, frightening her on a level someplace far below the surface. She felt ill, smothered by his weight on top of her.

The pain in her head became almost unbearable. It felt as if there was a balloon in her brain, expanding, pushing at her skull, ready to explode. And when it did, she would shatter into a million pieces.

He moved his lips, sucking at her breasts, her abdomen, between her legs. A scream welled somewhere inside her, in the place that knew all her secrets. She held as still as she could, eyes squeezed shut, praying it would be over soon. But still, the darkness pressed in on her.

Dear God, she prayed, what was happening to her?

He began to pant. Like an animal. Her stomach heaved; she curled her fingers into the bedsheets, clutching them for dear life, certain they were the only thing that kept her anchored to this world, to her sanity.

He finished, and she launched to her feet and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. She barely made it to the bowl before she was violently sick.

She stayed in the bathroom a long time, clinging to the commode, resting her cheek on the cool porcelain, crying silently.

What had she done? Dear God, what had she done?

Finally, she made it to her feet, rinsed her face and mouth and hands and returned to the bedroom.

Griffen lay stiffly on the bed, not looking at her when she entered the room. He was, no doubt, angry. And hurt. Her heart ached. She could only imagine how he felt right now.

She clasped her hands together. “Griffen, I'm…I'm so sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” he snapped at her. “Jesus.”

“It wasn't you.” At his look, she said it again, wringing her hands. “It wasn't. How could it be? You were…wonderful. I'm lucky to have a lover who's so gentle and considerate.”

“Sure.” He sat up, his face pinched with fury. “That's why you ran as quick as you could to the bathroom to puke after we made love.”

He was right, her reaction to him had not been normal. There had to be an explanation for it, there had to be.

She crossed to the bed and sat carefully on its edge. “I probably ate something that was bad. Or I'm suffering from jet lag. I'm so tired, Griffen. I'm sorry I ruined our night.”

For a moment he said nothing, then he held out his arms for her. “I shouldn't have expected perfection tonight. Next time will be better.”

She moved into his arms, refusing to acknowledge his words, the thought of a next time. She couldn't even bear the thought of
this
time. He closed his arms around her, holding her closely. Tightly.

Too closely. Too tightly.

Skye trembled, feeling trapped. Suffocated. She squirmed slightly, needing air, wishing he would relax his hold on her.

He wouldn't Not ever.

She had made a terrible mistake. One she had to think of a way out of.

After a while, Skye feigned sleep, thinking Griffen might relax his grip on her. When he did, she planned to slip out of bed. But even in sleep, he held her possessively, tightly.

She slept eventually, she knew that because the phone awakened her. Light streamed through the window. She reached for the receiver, wincing. She ached as if she had been beaten during the night. She heard the water running in the bathroom. “Hello.”

“Skye? Is that you?”

“Adam? Yes, it's me.” Skye sat up in bed, bringing the sheet with her. He sounded as if he was crying. Griffen appeared at the bathroom door, his expression concerned. “Adam, what's wrong?”

“There's been an accident, Skye. Dorothy's dead.”