Secrets and Seductions (3 page)

Aaron couldn't help thinking the
Mission Impossible
theme should've been playing in the background when he went to the Warner Gas headquarters in San Diego. He felt a little like a secret agent armed with the cover story Elizabeth gave him: He was an architecture student from UCLA doing research for his thesis. Warner Gas, after all, was housed in one of the most distinctive new glass high-rises in San Diego.

His mission, as undercover spy, was to find out if Robin Platt was working for Rick Warner.

Aaron wasn't sure if he could do it, and he felt a cold sweat trickle down his back as he told the lie to the receptionist sitting behind the front desk. Spying looked much easier on TV.

But to his surprise, she bought it easily. Apparently, he hadn't been the only graduate student interested in touring the offices and looking at the plans.

Nola the receptionist was stylishly dressed and older than he was. He put her age somewhere near forty. She wore a Missoni scarf around her neck. “I love that scarf,” Aaron said. “Missoni, right?”

“Missoni, yes!”

“Looks good on you.”

“Thanks.” The receptionist beamed under the praise.

“I'm Aaron, by the way,” he said.

“I'm Nola,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

Aaron knew he was making a necessary friend.

“You, too. So I'm not the only graduate student who's asked about the building?”

“Definitely not. Would you like a tour?”

“I'd love one.”

“Mr. Warner commissioned the building himself,” Nola said as she led him back through the offices. Aaron looked out of the impressive, top-floor view. “He wanted to make an impression on the skyline.”

And apparently on all the rivers and lakes, too,
Aaron thought. Warner's controversial drilling techniques had environmentalists in an uproar. It was one of the main reasons Bruce's company, Patman Social Impact, had bought the land Warner had wanted to use for more fracking.

Aaron himself was a green architect, and he appreciated what Bruce's company was trying to do. Rick Warner's building, he noticed, wasn't green in any way. Made of no recycled materials and with a pretty big carbon footprint, it paid a steep price for being pretty, he thought.

Nola finished the tour quickly. “And if you want to look at blueprints, they're in this file,” she said, nodding toward a nearby cube filled with file cabinets.

“That would be great.”

Aaron sat down and began looking through the designs. He had to play this slowly. Too soon to ask about Robin, so for now he just had to do some digging on his own. After the first day all he could find were copies of design plans. He had to be patient, to keep digging. And to stay very friendly with Nola, compliment by compliment.

The next day, he got a break.

“I'm off to lunch,” Nola said. “Need anything?”

Aaron looked up from the plans and glanced over at the receptionist's computer in her nearby cube. “Actually, could I use your computer to send a quick e-mail? It won't take long.”

“No problem,” Nola said, and then with a wink: “Are we talking girlfriend?”

“You got me.” Aaron smiled.

Nola typed in her password, unlocking the PC, stood up, and grabbed her purse. “You can tell me all about it for dessert.”

Nola headed toward the elevators, happy with her new friend.

As Aaron slid into Nola's chair he gave a quick look around the office and saw that it had emptied out for lunch almost entirely. Now was his chance.

He felt a little like Tom Cruise hanging from the ceiling as he looked through the company directory, searching for anybody whose description fit Robin Platt. Some, not all the employees, had photos.

Aaron had a picture of Robin on his phone that Elizabeth had sent. She was somewhat pretty with blond hair and fair skin.

A quick search of the employee records brought up no Robin Platt, but he did find a Rose Pally who would be the right age and seemed like she might be a fit. She would've been working for Warner Gas right before the allegations against Bruce had surfaced. And the initials, R.P., were the same as Robin Platt's. Aaron searched every company newsletter and internal Web page for a picture of Rose Pally, but he couldn't find one.

He did quick Facebook and Google searches, too, but came up empty. None of the Rose Pallys he found lived in San Diego.

After a quick search of her employment records, he found that Rose Pally was on an extended paid leave that had started a week before Bruce had allegedly attacked Robin Platt at that bar. That fit, too.

Aaron wasn't sure it was anything, but he thought there was enough of something to make copies of the records and e-mail them to Elizabeth.

BINGO
! Elizabeth wrote back almost instantly.
THIS IS WHAT I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR
!

With the Wakefield seniors still away, Elizabeth had the house to herself. What Aaron had sent her was a bonanza. She sped through the files, feeling a little giddy with excitement. This was it, the break in the case she was dreaming of. Except for the missing picture.

Aaron couldn't find one, but that didn't mean there wasn't one to be found. Elizabeth's reporter's instincts told her she was on to something big.

It was a double-edged sword. If Robin had lied and Bruce really was innocent, she'd betrayed him. How could she not have trusted him? He'd loved her as no one else ever had, and she thought she loved him as well, but when push came to shove, she'd let go. Too easily.

No matter what it looked like, no matter how it seemed, truth was on Robin's side. She should have closed her eyes and gone with Bruce. That's what people who love do. Screw the facts.

Now she would.

And pray it wasn't too late.

Elizabeth grabbed her phone and speed-dialed her sister.

“Tell me you have something for Bruce,” Jessica said.

“Maybe.”

She filled Jessica in on the details and waited.

“Yes! It's got to be her,” Jessica said, excitement in her voice. “It's too much of a coincidence. Robin Platt must actually be Rose Pally. Don't you see this is exactly how Warner would work? Lizzie, this is Bruce's big break. I gotta tell him.”

“You can't! And you have to promise me that when you can, you won't tell him I was the one who found her. He can't know I'm involved.”

“But Elizabeth…”

“Promise me, Jess. I don't want him to know I'm working on this.”

“Why? Liz, you know he still loves you. He'd want to know you were doing this for him. He'd also want to know you gave up your job for him. That's a big deal.”

“No! Don't.” Elizabeth thought about the look of hurt and betrayal in Bruce's eyes the last time she'd seen him. “No, I don't think he would want to know,” she said softly. “I don't think he wants to know anything about me anymore.”

Jessica let out a long, frustrated sigh. “I think you're wrong, but I'll do whatever you want. If it turns out that she really is connected to Warner, she could be dangerous.”

“Right now it's nothing until I can get Rose Pally's picture.”

“Still, you have to be careful.”

“I will be,” Elizabeth promised, but she really didn't care how dangerous Robin could be. All she cared about was finding out what had really happened. She needed the truth, whatever the cost. And maybe she'd already paid the price by losing Bruce forever.

“Oh, no,” Jessica said suddenly, sounding distracted.

“What is it?”

“Sorry, it's Lila,” Jessica said. “There's a story that just broke on
TMZ,
and
E! News
is running it now. Oh, boy. This is what I was afraid of. I
told
her this would happen.”

“What is it?”

“It's trouble,” Jessica said.

All morning, Lila felt sick to her stomach, and she didn't know why until she turned on her television.

Her shriek could be heard throughout her nine-bedroom mansion and probably down the street.

“An anonymous source sold her story to
TMZ
with what she says is proof that Lila Fowler,
True Housewives star
,
faked
her pregnancy and her miscarriage on the popular reality show.” The news anchor on E! swept back her long blond hair and delivered the devastating news with just the hint of a smile.

Lila felt her bedroom spin. Suddenly, she felt dizzy. Her hairstylist and makeup artist sat frozen next to her, their eyes glued to the TV set. Lila slunk out of her chair and ran to the bathroom, where she locked the door behind her.

Think,
she told herself in a panic.
Think.

Downstairs, the
True Housewives cameramen
were setting up in her kitchen. She heard the hustle and bustle of giant light fixtures and sound booms moving in and out.

Think of something!
She silently screamed at herself. She glanced up at her reflection in the mirror, a pale, wan version of her face glaring back. She looked a little green, and she felt worse. She had that panicky, clammy feeling that she hated so much. Being caught red-handed made her want to throw up. Her heart pounded in her rib cage. When Ken found out…She felt sick just thinking about it. But maybe she could tell him it was all a mistake!
He's not a neurosurgeon, he's a quarterback,
Lila told herself.
You can fool him. He'll believe anything you say.

In the mirror, her dark, normally shrewd eyes looked back at her with fear in them. Even she couldn't convince herself she'd get off that easily.

Maybe she could tell the cameras to go. The idea of facing them made the room spin. She already knew she wouldn't be able to convince the producers to leave. They were like sharks, and they'd smell blood in the water.

God, what a mess!
Lila dropped her head in her hands.

“Lila!”

She heard Ken's roar right before she heard the front door slam so hard it rattled the windows. Fear shook her. She wanted to hide in the bathroom forever, but she also knew she had to face him. There was still hope she could turn this all around. Wasn't there?

“Deny everything,” Lila told her reflection in the mirror. She nodded at herself, but the pale face with too much makeup blinked back at her, unconvinced.

“Lila! Get down here or I swear to God…” Ken shouted up the staircase. TV cameramen scrambled to get mobile cameras on their shoulders for the impromptu shot. Two cameras hovered around Ken, but he was too furious even to notice.

Lila appeared on the stairs looking pale, but she held her chin high. Haughty had always been her best look.

“What's wrong?” she asked, playing dumb.

“You damn well know what's wrong!” Ken held up a printout of the
TMZ
report. “You played me
again
!”

“Ken…it's not true. It's just not true! You can't believe
TMZ
over me!”

Lila flew down the stairs and got close enough to Ken to try to hug him. He shrugged her away. The cameras around them pivoted and turned, but Lila didn't even care that they were there. For once, she forgot completely about the story she was trying to play, about the angles of her face that looked best on television. She just desperately wanted Ken to understand he had to stay with her. He was the only one who would!

“Please, baby…”

“Don't ‘baby' me!” He ground out the words between clenched teeth. His face turned beet red splotched with white. He stomped right up to Lila and grabbed her arm—hard. “You are a liar, Lila.”

“I'm not. You can't believe
TMZ
!”

“If you're not lying, then prove it. Let's call Enid. She can confirm your pregnancy, right? And the miscarriage.”

When Lila hesitated, Ken pulled out his cell phone. Lila saw Enid Rollins's office number flash on the face of it.

Oh, God.
Her stomach roiled in protest; she felt bile in her throat. She knew the truth: There was no pregnancy test. She'd never gone to her OB-GYN for anything other than a routine exam.

“What? Speechless?” Ken hit the “call” button. He put it on speaker, and Lila heard the phone ringing.

“Hello, Dr. Rollins's office,” a woman's chirpy voice answered.

Ken shoved the phone in Lila's face, but she put up her hands, unable to hide the guilty panic in her eyes.

Ken ended the call.

“I knew it,” he said, disgust on his face, and something more heartbreaking—pain.

“Ken—please. I can explain.” She'd had her reasons for doing it. She had to make him understand that all she ever wanted was to be loved. Why was that so wrong?

“No, Lila. I know you think I'm stupid. But I'm not. Everyone always warned me to stay away from you, that you were a first-class bitch. I always told them they were wrong about you. But you know what? They were right!”

His words rained down on Lila's head like oversized chunks of hard, icy hail. Ken let her arm go as a look of disgust passed across his face.

“I want you to look at me when I say this. I'm going to tell you this one time, in front of the whole world, Lila. Do not call me. Do not even
look
at me. I don't want to hear about you. I don't ever want to see you again, do you hear me? I am going to file for divorce, and
this
time I mean to see it through.”

A sob broke from her throat and tears streamed down Lila's cheeks before she could stop them. She didn't even have to pretend, like she usually did. These were real tears—she was slobbering and blubbering in a way that would look terrible on camera. She
knew
it but she couldn't stop. Even the thought of Ashley Morgan triumphantly watching this show when it aired didn't stop the flow.

“Ken, please don't! Please don't do this!” She swiped furiously at her nose with her sleeve, but it was no good. She couldn't control herself—tears and snot went everywhere.

Ken shook his head, a horrible sadness clouding his features.

“Do you know how cruel it is? What you've done?” His voice sounded small as he shook his head, his heartbreak heavy in the room. “I loved that baby. He was real to me. When I found out we were going to start a family, I was on top of the world, Lila. I really couldn't have been happier.”

“Ken…” Lila felt an ache in her chest. His pain was so real, so heartfelt. He really had loved that baby. She realized in that moment how she had completely miscalculated, how terrible her mistake was. “Ken, we could try for a real baby. We could try. We can be a family!”

Ken's head snapped up and his eyes turned cold. “Get away from me,” he growled, shrugging off her touch. “You think you can
fake
a pregnancy and then make it all okay? Are you
insane
?”

“Let me try. I'll do anything.”

“No.” Ken shook his head. “This is actually a blessing, Lila, because now I see that I don't want you. You're not worth having. Not now. Not ever. You're pathetic, Lila, a sad scheming bitch, and God help anybody who thinks you're worth a damn. They'll soon know all you have is on the outside—money, nice things, whatever—but inside, Lila, at your core, you're not worth a goddamn cent.”

With that, Ken turned and stormed off, slamming the door behind him. The sobs racked Lila, and all she could think was that now the whole world knew what she had always feared: She wasn't worth loving.

In mid-sob, her whole body convulsed, her stomach rebelled, and then it was all over. She only just made it to a potted plant before she retched, throwing up what was left of her breakfast.

She swiped at her mouth and ran up the stairs to her bedroom, mortified and heartbroken. She wasn't ever going to come out; she would stay there long after the last camera had left. She retched two more times, hanging over the toilet, wondering what was wrong as she cried and cried and cried. She was heartbroken, yes, but it was more than that. Something was wrong with her body. It didn't just act like this.

She felt like a woman who'd lost control of everything. Like her hormones had taken over and…

Hormones.

Crying.

Sickness.

Oh, God.

Quickly, Lila did a calculation.
Oh, no, no, no.
She'd been so busy faking a pregnancy she hadn't even bothered to notice that she'd missed her last period. She was more than a month late.

Her mind instantly went back to all those nights of celebratory sex, all those times Ken couldn't keep his hands off her. And the fact that with all the cameras around and everything, maybe she'd missed a pill or two. Or three. She hadn't even bothered to worry about it at the time. She had other things on her mind. But now…Oh, God, now…!

Lila scrambled on her knees to the cabinet next to the sink. She threw it open and tossed out boxes of Q-tips and Kleenex and reached far, far into the back. She had a pregnancy test back there, she knew, one of a two-pack she'd used the year before when she'd been a couple of days late. It had turned up negative at the time. She grabbed the box and tore open what was left of the package. Lila scrambled to take the test and then waited the painstaking three minutes.

One line means I'm not pregnant, and two blue lines means I am.

One line. Please, God, I will do anything. Just let there be one line!

Lila stared at the stick, watching as the blue line materialized.

Yes! One line!

Relief flooded through her. Food poisoning then. Must be, right?

But, no. As she watched, horrified, the second line came into view. She blinked, speechless, as she stared at the two unmistakably clear blue lines.

This time, there wasn't anything fake about it. No matter how long she stared at the stick, the result never changed: Lila Fowler, who had just faked a miscarriage, was eight weeks pregnant.