The Confession (30 page)

The judge admitted the photos.

The prosecutor looked at them briefly. He objected on the grounds of relevance and was overruled. Then again based on the fact that he hadn't seen them before. He was overruled. Muttering something under his breath, he retreated to his bench.

“You said these aren't what I think,” said the defense attorney. “Can you explain what they are?” He handed me the photos.

My black dress. My head on Maxim's shoulder.

My naked body.

“You don't understand,” I said.

“Who is in the photo?” he asked.

“Please,” I begged. “It's not . . .”

“I'm going to advise Ms. Rossi not to answer that,” said the prosecutor.

“Overruled,” said the judge.

Silence. I looked out, and saw my father, who looked as white as a ghost.

“It's Maxim Stein and me,” I whispered. The sickness was rolling through me now, threatening to climb up my throat. I remembered waking up, disoriented, on the ground outside the restaurant. I remembered Alec sitting in the chair beside my bed at the hospital. The medical test—
you got lucky, Ms. Rossi.

“And when were they taken?” asked the attorney.

I straightened. “Just a few days ago.”

“How could they have been taken recently?” he asked, with a condescending laugh. “Mr. Stein is on house arrest. Are you suggesting that he somehow removed his ankle bracelet, traveled to the location of this hotel to meet you, and then took these pictures?”

I stared at Maxim Stein.

“That's exactly what I'm suggesting,” I said, and even though I knew it was already too late, that the jury and judge would never believe me, I kept on. “I'm saying that last weekend I was drugged at a bar by a man I'd never seen before, taken to a hotel in Miami, and posed in pictures without my consent.”

“Another man? What other man is that, Ms. Rossi?”

“Jeremiah Barlow,” I said. “Maxim Stein's son.”

I felt a ball of ice form right in the center of my chest the second I said it.

“Maxim Stein doesn't have a son,” said the defense attorney. “He doesn't have any children. If he did, wouldn't his heir be entitled to a piece of the company? Child support? Something?”

“Ms. Stein paid him in cash.”

“You know this for a fact?” asked the defense attorney. Behind him, Maxim stared daggers at me. I wished everyone would turn around and see the guilt on his face, rather than the insecurity on mine.

“I . . .”

“You have evidence that Maxim Stein has a child. A birth certificate maybe?”

“N-no.”

The prosecutor was shouting something. Jim was on his feet. Maxim's attorney was saying something back to him. I didn't hear any of it as I continued on.

“I do have evidence that I was taken. I was found outside Orlando and brought to a hospital where they found Rohypnol in my system. I can deliver my medical records, and I can direct you to the hotel in Miami where he brought me for those pictures.”

“Order!” called the judge, for the first time today sitting straight in her chair. “Order! Counselor, get ahold of your witness.”

“This all happened this past weekend?” The defense attorney's voice rose above the others. “According to Jessica Rowe's testimony, you were in Miami with Mr. Stein months ago, in February, when he was there for business.”

Alec had suggested this might happen after the pictures had first surfaced. Maxim would try to say that we'd had an affair before, and that jealousy had driven Alec to go to the FBI. He'd thought
Maxim
would accuse me of it. Not his secretary.

“No, that's not right,” I said. “She's lying. I don't know what Mr. Stein said to scare her, but she's lying.”

“She was under oath,” said Stein's attorney. “As are you right now, Ms. Rossi.”

“I'm telling you the truth,” I said, slapping my flat hand on the table so hard the microphone rattled.

“Was Alec Flynn telling the truth when he accused my client of stealing the Green Fusion design?” pressed the attorney, standing close now, just beyond the witness box. “Or was he angry because you'd betrayed him by sleeping with his boss? I can tell you right now, I'd be furious if my girlfriend went behind my back like that.”

“Counselor!” ordered the judge.

“I'd do anything to see the guy who touched her suffer.
Anything.
”

“Alec didn't do this out of spite,” I said.

“So he wasn't upset? Ouch. Maybe you didn't mean as much to him as you thought.”

This was falling apart. I closed my mouth. I had to. Everything I was saying was coming out wrong, and this fucking snake was leading me right into his den.

The judge pointed her finger at the prosecutor, who was still trying to put the brakes to this inevitable crash.

“That's it,” she snapped. “We're taking a recess.”

“I just have one final question,” said the defense attorney.

The courtroom stilled.

“Ms. Rossi,” he asked. “Do you often go home with strange men you meet at bars?”

I lowered my eyes, and succumbed to the nightmare.

I was going to lose everything.

A
lec's testimony was the next day. I waited by the window of the hotel room, staring out into the busy streets of downtown Tampa, hoping that someone would bring me word as soon as he had been dismissed.

My appearance yesterday in court had been a disaster. The prosecutor had done what he could to patch things up regarding Jessica's accusation that I had been a part of the plan to steal the Green Fusion blueprints. There was nothing to do about the pictures—they were out for my father, the news,
everyone
to know about—but he'd managed to prove that I had not, in fact, been in Miami with Maxim Stein during the time Jessica had accused me of. I'd been working. Derrick had no doubt scrambled to get copies of my old work schedules.

The minutes turned to hours. Numbness had taken away much of the sting, but I still felt the passing of time. How long before they took Alec away? Would they do it today? Tomorrow? Would I even be able to see him before they did?

They'd told me I couldn't make any phone calls.

I was sort of tired of being told what to do. It wasn't like I had a lot to lose now anyway.

Amy answered on the first ring.

“Hey,” I said.

“Oh God,” she said. “You sound bad. It's bad, isn't it?”

“It's bad,” I said. And started to cry.

For the next ten minutes, we barely spoke, but she was there on the end of the line, and that's what mattered.

*   *   *

At five thirty, there came a knock on the door. I didn't get up. It was Tenner; it had to be. He'd taken to bringing food inside and setting it on the hotel room desk when it became apparent that I wasn't ordering room service.

When I didn't answer, the door opened.

I didn't turn around. I stayed planted on the windowsill, and closed my eyes to shut out the people rushing by on the street below. It occurred to me he had news of the trial, but now that the time had come, I didn't even want to hear it. The dread that had wormed its way into my stomach told me it wouldn't be good.

“The first time I saw you, you were sitting in your car, AC blasting, eyes closed. I kept wondering what you were waiting for, parked on the street like that.”

I had turned sharply at the sound of Alec's voice, but wasn't able to move when I faced him. He had his hands in his pockets, and his shoulders hunched a little from the great burdens he carried. Despite this, he smiled, and the warmth that had been missing in his absence shimmered through me.

“The neighborhood watch,” I murmured. “You busted me for illegal parking.”

“It wasn't illegal,” he confessed with a small shrug. “I didn't like the idea of you waiting for anyone but me.”

He'd made up a reason to talk to me. Even now, I was glad he had. I would never regret his presence in my life.

“And here I am, waiting for you again.”

He glanced at the ground, where he rotated the heel of his shoe over the carpet.

“Seems only fair since I've waited for you my whole life.”

I rose then, and went to him, sliding my arms within his suit jacket and resting my cheek on his chest. He curved around me, so that we were like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

“How long do I have you for?” It felt like I was always wondering the answer to this question.

“We'll know tomorrow morning,” he said. “I'm all yours until then.”

I could hear it in his tone. He didn't expect this to end well. He'd already accepted he was going away. If the jury suspected that he had lied to the federal prosecutor about his role in Maxim's affairs, his former plea deal would be off. He'd be taken to jail to await his own trial, with a bail set so high there'd be no way I could bring him home, and a chance of getting off would be close to impossible thanks to the case Stein's lawyers would throw against him.

“Just until then?” I asked.

He held me tighter.

“For as long as you'll take me.”

I blinked rapidly and forced a steady breath. If we had limited time, I wouldn't spend it crying. I wouldn't let his last memories of me be with a broken heart and runny mascara.

“If the hold's off, I need to call Marcos,” I said. “I haven't talked to him in days. He's been watching Maxim's house, trying to see if Jeremiah Barlow's tried to make contact . . .”

“He hasn't.”

“Well, maybe my dad . . .”

“Anna.”

The way he said my name made me halt. As much as I wanted to chase leads, find something to keep him in my arms, he needed me here, now.

“What do you want to do?” I asked.

He pulled back to look at me. His knuckles skimmed my cheeks, and then burrowed into my hair, combing it down the center of my back.

“I want to take you out,” he said. “And then I want to take you to bed.”

“All right,” I said.

He took my hand in his, and kissed my knuckles, and then he led me right out of that room to the elevators. As I passed Agent Tenner and Janelle, standing in the hallway, my worst suspicions were confirmed. They hardly glanced up at me, and when Alec passed, they didn't even say good-bye.

*   *   *

We got takeout tacos for dinner, and took them to a park by the Bay. It was a quiet place, and the press didn't follow us. Alec held my hand as we walked out to the pier, and sat on a bench overlooking the water. I felt his gaze on me constantly, though when I met his eyes, he looked away.

“Tell me something I don't know about you,” I said when I'd finished my second taco. I thought he'd been keeping up with me, but now that I looked I saw that he'd barely touched his first.

“Like what?”

“Like your favorite color,” I said. “I don't care.”

I wanted to know everything. I wanted to keep every piece of him I could if we were separated.

“Red,” he said. “When it's lace and on your body. Black. When it's lace and on your body.” He reached behind my back to wrap a piece of hair around his fingers. “Pink.” His hand lowered to my thigh and began to slide up beneath my skirt. “Definitely pink.”

It took me too long to slap away his hand. There were people around. But I could still feel his touch on my bare skin.

“How'd you lose your virginity?” I said.

He snorted. “The way all fifteen-year-old boys do. With an older girl in a dressing room at the mall.”

I barked out a laugh.

“I don't think that's how most fifteen-year-old boys lose their virginity.” I smacked his chest when he grinned like he had something to be proud of. “How much older was she?”

He sighed wistfully. “Old enough to buy me beer.”

“I'm fairly sure that's illegal.”

“I guess you haven't heard,” he said, “I have a very questionable past.”

His words were light. His tone was not.

“You're such a bad boy. Kind of makes me want to go to the mall and find a dressing room.” I scooted closer. “If you're good to me, I might even buy you a beer afterward.”

His brow quirked.

“As tempting as that sounds, I'd rather have you on a bed,” he told me. “Where I can see all of you.”

Again, I felt my throat tighten. I didn't want this to be the last time he touched me, but if it was, I wished I'd had the ability to make it more memorable.

“I don't even have anything sexy to wear,” I said, swiping my hair back.

“It doesn't matter what you wear.” He gathered the half-eaten food off our laps. “Come on. Let's go.”

*   *   *

I could barely look at him on the car ride back to Mac's restaurant. Every time I did, my eyes stung and my throat tied in knots. I held his hand so tightly my knuckles turned white, but he didn't say a word about it. Every few minutes he brought my hand to his lips, or rested our joined hands on his chest.

Every time I glanced at the clock, a small wave of panic took hold of me. The minutes were going by too fast. Morning, and the fate of our love, would be here too soon.

We walked in silence up to the stairs to the safe haven we'd made a home these past few days. So much had changed since I'd first come here. I'd been so afraid, on the verge of losing my mind, and Alec had brought me back one touch at a time. He'd saved me, just like he always did.

I wouldn't die without him. But I couldn't really live, either.

With the key in the lock, he paused.

“Would it be easier for you if we didn't go inside?” he asked. “We could drive around. Do something else.”

I put my hand on his, aware of each jagged, broken piece of my heart.

“Would it be easier for you?”

“Yes,” he said quietly.

We didn't leave.

I helped him turn the key in the lock, dismantle the security code, and push inside.

Without turning on the lights, I took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom. The air was cool and stale, this place having been left empty these last few days, but soon that would change. It would be warm, and the darkness would embrace us, and every inch of him would belong to me.

He kissed me. Softly at first, but as the seconds passed, the things he'd been holding back began to break, though. I could feel it in the pressure of his lips, and the desperate caress of his tongue, and the way his hands trembled as they cupped my cheeks.

I slipped his jacket off his shoulders, pulled his tie free, and unbuttoned his shirt, my own hands shaking. There was no stopping my tears now. They ran freely, and he kissed them, too, holding me close even as he pulled my dress over my head.

“Say this isn't the last time,” he said. “I don't care if it's a lie. Just say it.”

I slowed. My fingers loosened their grip on his shoulders, and I smoothed them up his neck to his face.

“Alec.”

He moved me back toward the bed. I felt the mattress behind my thighs, but didn't sit.

“Baby, wait,” I said.

His chest was rising with husky breaths. I held his face in his hands and forced him to look down at me.

“I love you,” I said. “I'll love you the rest of my life.” I kissed his chin, and his lips, and his flexing jaw. “This isn't the last time, I promise.”

I believed that now. Even if they tried to take him tomorrow, I was going to dedicate every second he was gone to getting him back. And if I had to wait, I would wait. I would do whatever I needed to do in order to hold him again.

He murmured my name.

“Make love to me,” I said.

He laid me gently on the bed and then took his place at my side. We touched each other slowly, hands and lips memorizing every curve, every muscle, every single place on the other's body that led to a gasp, or a sigh, or a groan. We loved each other until time became meaningless, until our hands and lips moved with a greater urgency, and only when the tension became unbearable, did he move between my thighs, and fill me.

He said he loved me, and that I was beautiful, and that he was afraid. And I soaked up all of it, taking all his fear and passion the same way I took his cock. With a desperate, aching need to make us both whole.

There came a point, at the very end, where we were.