Scandalous (8 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Beth

“Thanks guys,” I say, managing a smile as I grab my bags out of the car. Coop eyes me sympathetically, and even Mia looks like she feels sorry for me.

Two hours in the car with them wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. They mostly left me alone, lost in my own thoughts as I tried to dissect what the hell was happening with Roman. How could he just leave me there like that?

I wait until I can’t see their car anymore, and jump in my own. I don’t give a damn that it’s three in the fucking morning. I want answers, and this is the only person who will give them to me.

**

My hands are shaking as I pound on the hard wooden door relentlessly. It swings open and a disheveled Carlos peers out. His eyes widen when he spots me. Carlos. My father. The man who abandoned my mother with two small daughters. The man who left his daughters in the care of a drug addict who cared more about her next fix than making sure her own children were clothed and fed. The anger I feel toward this man scares the fuck out of me. But none of that is important right now. Not until I sort out the mess that is my life.

“Surprised to see me?” I deadpan, pushing my way past him.

He backtracks, tightening the belt of his robe around his waist as he follows me into his living room. I pace the tiny space, running my hands through my hair as I try and work out what I need to say.

“You should’ve called me. I would have tidied up a bit,” he mumbles, his expression embarrassed as he glances around the mess of a room.

“Calling would require having a conversation with you, and I’m still not sure I want to do that.”

“Isn’t this conversing?” he snickers, his laughter fading as soon as he catches sight of my expression. “I’m sorry. I know you’re angry at me, Bethy—”

“Don’t call me that,” I snap harshly. The last person to call me that was Ivan.

“Sorry. Beth.” Sighing, he shrugs and sits on the end of a shabby beige sofa. “Look, what do you want me to do? Nothing I say is going to make up for leaving you. I’m not going to be able to say anything right while you’re angry at me.”

“I’m not here about us,” I say, my voice stiff. I stand with my arms crossed over my chest. “I’m here about Roman.”

“Oh boy,” he mutters, rubbing his head. “Shit. I shoulda known this was coming.”

“I want you to tell me everything, because he sure as hell isn’t.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, looking confused. “He won’t talk to you?”

“No.” I shake my head. “All I’ve gotten is some crap about how I deserve better than him. Look, I don’t care that you hired him to check up on me. Something is going on with him and I’m scared he’s going to do something stupid.”

“So he hasn’t told you anything?” he repeats.

“That’s what I said,” I say, irritable that we keep going in circles. “So start talking.”

I wait as he hesitates, pressing his lips together. I’m surprised at how cagey he is being. I’m not sure why, but I thought he’d be much more forthcoming if it meant getting on my good side.

“Carlos,” I growl. “If you want any chance at salvaging our relationship…”

“Okay, okay.” He points to the sofa. “Sit down, at least. And stop looking at me like that. You’re making me nervous with all that glaring.”

For fuck’s sake. I flop down on the end of the couch and plant a fake smile on my face. He rolls his eyes at my dramatics, but takes a deep breath, preparing to speak.

“When I was afraid of losing the only connection I had to you—Roman—I did some digging on him.” He pauses, scratching his jaw. “If you dig far enough on anyone, you’ll find something. Sometimes you find much more than you were expecting.”

“What did you find?” I ask, gritting my teeth. The suspense is killing me. I’m tossing around a million horrible scenarios in my head, wondering what I’ll be able to forgive and what I won’t.

“He was married. When he was twenty-two. They had a little girl. Based on the timeline, I’m pretty sure the major reason behind the marriage was the little girl.”

Married? I breathe out sharply. There has to be more to the story. Not having known he was once married is a shock, but it’s not a deal breaker.

“When the little girl was three, she died. She suffered injuries to her head, but there was enough evidence to suggest that maybe it wasn’t an accident. That she was murdered.”

“No,” I whisper. I can feel the blood draining from my face. There is no way in hell Roman would ever, ever do that…would he? “What happened?”

“He was charged with her murder. As I said, there was a lot of evidence, but most of it was circumstantial. He was found guilty, and spent three years in prison before the case was retried and he was acquitted.”

“What changed? Was there more evidence?” I press, struggling to process everything.

“Yes. The one piece of evidence they had on him was the statement from a woman he was supposedly having an affair with. She came forward, admitting she lied.”

“Holy shit,” I mumble. I can’t even begin to imagine what he must have gone through. I have to go and see him. He needs to know I understand why he did what he did. “I have to go.”

“Wait,” Carlos blurts out. His face colors and his gaze falls to the floor. “There’s more, Beth. I discovered things I should have told Roman about a long time ago.”

Chapter Fifteen

Roman

Well, I couldn’t have fucked this up any more if I tried.

Fucking useless piece of shit. Beth was the best thing to happen to me in years, and I had to go and ruin it. Just like I ruin anything that is remotely good in my life.

I’m standing in my apartment, staring at the half-empty bottle of scotch I have sitting on the kitchen counter. Drinking: it’s what I do when things get hard. It’s the only thing that comes close to drowning out all the memories. But as time passes, my body has become immune to the effects of the alcohol. It takes more and more to numb my mind.

My last moments with Beth run over and over in my head. The look on her face when I told her I’d been lying to her gutted me. I was convinced that leaving was the best thing I could do for her, even if it meant sending her right into Coop’s arms.

“For fuck’s sake, stop with the pity party already,” I mutter to myself. Everything that’s happened is my own fault. Crying over how hard done by I’ve been isn’t going to change anything. If I want things to be different, then I need to fucking grow up and take responsibility for what I’ve done.

I should’ve told her everything. She deserves that, at least.

Picking up the bottle, I walk over to the sink and upend it, watching as the amber liquid spirals down the drain. I feel enriched about this now, but give me half an hour and I’ll be cursing myself for wasting a good bottle of scotch.

I wake up sprawled out on the couch. It’s pitch black. My mind takes a moment to register the events of the last twenty-four hours and I feel like passing out again. The sound of the doorbell startles me. I get to my feet, stumbling my way toward the sound of the ringing, barely able to make out the shapes of the furniture in the dark. Finally, I make it to the door. I flick on the hall light and turn the handle. I have no conception of time, except that it’s either late or really early.

“Beth,” I mumble. She is the last person I expected to see. I reach up and rub my forehead, my hangover preventing me from thinking too hard. My head is pounding and the glow from the light is hurting my eyes.

“Can I come in?” she asks, her voice quiet.

I stand aside, letting her sweep past me, the smell of musk and roses hitting my senses.
God, I miss her
…

“Can I get you a drink?” I ask.

She shakes her head and waits until I lead her into the living room. Her eyes dart down my body, then she blushes. I glance down, realizing I’m only wearing a pair of boxer shorts. Her reaction is cute, because she’s seen me in much less than this.

“Let me make a coffee,” I say, motioning for her to sit down. As much as I need the caffeine hit, my real reason for wanting one is to buy me some time. Whatever she has to say, I want to get in first. I want to tell her everything. But first, I have to get my head straight.

As I wait for the machine to warm up, my thoughts wander to her and Coop. I left her with him after all but ending our relationship. My stomach tenses as I begin to panic. What if I’m too late? What if that piece of shit moved in on her the second I was out of the picture?

Calm down. You can’t think like that.

Only it’s easier said than done.

I carry my cup into the living room, where Beth is sitting down, waiting for me. She’s holding a photo, and I realize it’s one of the few photos I have of Anna. My heart pounds as she looks up at me, tears in her eyes.

She knows.
How the hell does she know? I sit down, trying to calm the thundering in my chest, but it’s no use. I’m on the verge of a full-on panic attack.

Carlos
. He
had
to have told her.

“Roman—”

“No, please,” I interrupt, holding my hand up. “I need to speak first.”

She nods, her eyes meeting mine as she waits for me to speak. I close my eyes and lean back in my chair, my hand resting on my forehead.

“When I was in college, my girlfriend got pregnant. My parents decided it was best if I marry her, because having a child out of wedlock was a huge issue for both my family and hers. So we got married, even though neither of us were in love, and our daughter Anna was born.”

I pause, taking a deep breath as my voice falters. Even talking about her after all these years is hard. Just her name puts me on the verge of tears.

“We both loved Anna, but our marriage wasn’t a good one. Neither of us were happy together. I became close with one of Marisa’s friends. Too close,” I laugh. I watch Beth for a moment, trying to figure out what she’s thinking. Her expression remains stoic, giving nothing away. “By the time Anna was three, we had separated. Marisa was seeing some Arabian oil tycoon’s son, and I was still seeing Amara. I felt like things were finally getting better. Anna was the highlight of my life. I would’ve done anything for that little girl. Anything.”

I stand up and begin pacing the room. My stomach is twisted in knots and I feel sick. All these memories feel so raw, so recent, like they happened yesterday. I run my hands through my hair, summoning up the courage to go on. The worst was yet to come and I had no way of knowing how she was going to react.

“Marisa was talking about taking Anna out of the country. She wanted to marry her boyfriend and move back to the Middle East. We fought about it, because there was no way I was letting her take my daughter anywhere. One day, she came to pick up Anna after her weekend with me, and that was the last time I saw my daughter alive.”

I lean against the window, my hands gripping the frame as I stare out into the darkness. My body stiffens as I feel Beth’s arms move around my waist. Taking her hand in mine, I force myself to continue.

“The police contacted me the next morning to inform me I was a ‘person of interest’ in her death. She had injuries consistent with physical abuse. The coroner found that she had blows to her head that were consistent to the timeframe that she was in my care.”

“Oh, Roman,” Beth whispers, kissing the back of my neck.

“I’m not done. There’s more,” I say, my voice hard.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to do this. I spoke to Carlos. He told me everything.”

I turn around so I can study her face. “Why did you go to him and not me?”

“Because I didn’t think you would talk to me.”

I snort. “And you thought
he
would?” I say harshly.

“Well, he did, didn’t he?”

Good point.

“So you know everything, then? You know I was charged and convicted of her murder? You know I spent three years in a state prison where I was constantly beaten and threatened because I was a child killer?”

“You’re not a child killer, Roman.”

“How can you be so sure?” I shoot back. “I mean, how well do you really know me? How do you know what I’m capable of?”

She put her hands on my chest, her eyes focusing on mine.

“I know what you’re
not
capable of.” She hesitates, before adding: “You need to sit down. There is something I need to tell you.”

“What?” I ask, my jaw tensing.

She leads me over to the couch, and I sit. She kneels in front of me, her eyes still on mine. Suddenly, she laughs.

“I have no idea how to say this,” she murmurs. She takes a deep breath. “Your daughter… She’s not dead.”

“What?” I laugh, shaking my head. “Of course she is. What are you talking about?”

“Carlos found out much more than he let on. Anna is alive and living overseas with her mother. She’d be ten now, right?”

It can’t be true. How could I not know? How could she be alive, and I not
know
?

“He’s lying,” I snap, turning away. “Don’t you see? He’ll do anything to give you what he thinks you want.”

“I don’t think he is,” Beth whispers. “I think he’s telling the truth. You said your wife wanted to take Anna out of the country, right?”

“So she fakes her death to do so?” I laugh. The whole idea is ridiculous. “Look, Beth, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but this? It’s not helping. I need you to drop it, okay?”

She stares at me for a long time before answering. “Okay.”

“Look,” I mumble, “you’re welcome to stay, but I need to get my head straight, and the only way I’m going to do that is to sleep.”

“That’s fine.” She manages a small smile. “I’m not really tired, do you mind if I just hang out here and watch TV?”

I shrug. “Go for it.” I lean over and kiss her tenderly. She reciprocates, falling deeper into my kiss, her hands touching the sides of my neck. The relief I feel with that kiss is immense.
Maybe I haven’t ruined this
. “I’m glad you came over.”

“I’m glad I did too,” she whispers.