The Convenient Wife (A BWWM Steamy Marriage of Convenience Romance) (14 page)

“I can’t believe you’re talking to
me like this! After what I saw…”

I snorted. “Do you really think that
I’m stupid enough to just fuck some woman out here while you were in the next
room?”

“Then
what
was she doing here, Dorian?” Gigi asked, fixing me with a
heavy stare. I thought I saw something other than anger there for a moment,
something closer to fear. It shouldn’t have made me happy, but it did. It made
me damn happy to think maybe Gigi still gave a shit about me.

But before that look could come to
fruition, she waved her hand. “You know, I don’t even want to hear it. You can
sleep in another room tonight, Dorian. This one’s taken,” Gigi sniped, turning
her back on me and marching back into the master bedroom and slamming the door
so hard I heard the glassware in the kitchen clink.

I stood out in the living room by
myself, staring at the shut door and wondering if I could have handled that
situation any better. I sighted, sitting down on one of the couches that
littered the room, my head in my hands.

I wasn’t sure I could explain to
Gigi what had happened, or if she’d even give me the chance while she still
thought I’d brought some
woman
into
the penthouse after less than a month together. It looked bad from where she
was standing, and maybe I could fix it in time, but at that moment, I couldn’t
find any silver lining in this raincloud.

And how would she react to knowing
my mother was the one who’d set it all up? She was already insecure after what
happened at Aliments the day of our wedding. What if she wanted to bail?

I couldn’t let that happen, not just
because of the money involved, but because I didn’t want Gigi to go. In fact,
screw the money. That wasn’t what this was about anymore.

Not to me, anyway. And I hoped
against all hope that it was the same for her.

“Ms. Devereaux?”

The voice over my phone sounded very
familiar, but the peaceful and calm nature and my still-groggy head made it
hard to place.

“This is she,” I said cautiously as
I sat up in bed, my hand almost reflexively searching for Dorian’s warm body
next to mine, only to be disappointed. The memories of our fight a few weeks
ago were still fresh, souring my restful feelings. Even the joy of finding out
that I was finally pregnant wasn’t enough to pull me out of this mood.

There was no big celebration, no
happiness—instead, I just threw the positive test onto Dorian as he slept and
went about my day. In hindsight, I could have been a bit more cordial. We’d—or
rather, I—set an appointment for an ultrasound in a few weeks and rather loudly
relayed the information to Dorian. It very well could have been the hormones,
but I was fairly certain I was still just
that
mad, and it’s not like Dorian had taken any steps to calm me down. After our
fight, he was distant. It reminded me of how long I waited for him to call
after his grandfather’s funeral, only to be disappointed.

“May I ask who’s speaking?” I
prompted after too many moments of silence lapsed.

“This is Mrs. Lambert. I was… hoping
you might come by today and speak with me.”

My heart stopped for a moment. Why
was Dorian’s mother calling
me,
of
all people? Hadn’t she insulted me enough?

“I can’t say I enjoyed our last
talk, Mrs. Lambert,” I said.

“I think maybe we got off on the
wrong foot,” Mrs. Lambert replied. “Knowing I have a grandchild on the way has
given me some clarity.”

I touched my stomach, comforting
myself with the life growing inside me. “How do you know about the baby?”

“Dorian told me, of course. Do you really
think he would keep something like this from his mother? Clearly you barely
know him…” Mrs. Lambert replied. “It’s of no consequence. What is done is done
and we must make peace. I would like you to come and see me at my home in the
next hour. I will be waiting.”

 
I didn’t have a chance to respond. The
sound of the phone being put on the receiver jarred me from my thoughts, my
heart hammering as I began to worry about all the possibilities of how this
meeting could go wrong.

I arrived at Mrs. Lambert’s house in
a little under forty-five minutes, with my heart practically in my throat. Why
in the world was I doing this? It was probably just another chance for her to
turn the knife, and I didn’t need that… Especially with the way things were
going at home right now.

Everything turned out to be exactly
as I feared, and yet
much,
much
worse.

Dorian’s mother stood quietly,
dressed impeccably as usual. She was officially the last person on the planet
that I wanted to see. A pit opened in the bottom of my stomach and my blood
started to boil all at once as I caught sight of her crooked grin. What little
hope of civility I might have had was gone in an instant. I knew that this was
going to get bad.

“Ms. Devereaux,” she said, her tone
overly sweet with a smile that looked too well-rehearsed. “How wonderful that
you could join us.”

“What’s going on here?” I asked,
frozen in the doorway as I watched the soon-to-be-deceased Mr. Lambert laboring
to breathe, his bulging eyes locked onto me.

“I’d like to discuss some business
changes that I’ve made…”

“I’m not sure why I’m here for that.
If you want to talk business, talk to Dorian,” I replied.

“I’m not talking to Dorian, because
these changes involve
you
, Ms.
Devereaux.”

I narrowed my eyes at the two of
them. If I had been confused before, then I was absolutely dumbfounded now.

“You don’t have any power over me,”
I said.

“I’m afraid you’re right, dear.
Thankfully, I have something even better. Are you familiar with district Judge
Thompson Watts? He’s truly a wonderful man.”

“Never heard of him,” I replied
quietly.

“Well he’s certainly heard of
you
. Or, at least, he’s heard of your
father.”

I could feel rage boiling over
inside me. What in the hell was this woman trying to say? She had no right to
talk about my family.

“You haven’t called your father
lately, have you dear? Such a shame when a child fails to keep in touch with
their family.”

“What did you do?” I said, my voice
venomous.

“It seems your father may have
gotten himself into a little drunken scuffle three nights ago. Ordinarily this
sort of thing is a few nights in a cell and some community service, this isn’t
your father’s first run in with the police. Are you aware of the three strikes
laws in this state? Your father certainly wouldn’t survive twenty years in
prison, but Judge Watts can be so very strict…”

The implication in her voice was
clear. With one wave of a hand, she could send my father to prison for the rest
of his life.

“And he will send your father to
prison,” Mrs. Lambert said, her eyes sparkling, “unless
someone
can convince the judge to be lenient.”

“My father wouldn’t do that. He
would never hurt anyone,” I replied indignantly.

“You’d be surprised how easy it is
to incite an alcoholic to throw a punch, dear.”

“You did this? You set him up!” I
shouted.

“I merely sped along the inevitable.
Your father was heading down a very dark road. Maybe prison will be good for
him…”

“You wouldn’t do this,” I said,
gritting my teeth together. “My father has done nothing to you.”

“Oh, I would do this,
Gigi
. I would do anything for the sake
of my family. The question is, how far will you go for yours?”

“What do you want?” I asked, barely
able to contain my fury. I took a moment to breathe. I had to calm down for the
sake of my baby. The stress of this moment had my heart racing like it never
had. Mrs. Lambert merely smiled.

“I’m a generous woman. Your father
will be free to go home… if certain conditions are met.”

My heart shuddered.
Certain conditions?
I felt like I’d
walked into a lion’s den and had to stop myself from shielding my stomach with
my hand in that instinctive, motherly way I was already prone to. That would
only make things worse for me. I knew it.

I swallowed. “What conditions are
you talking about?”

Mrs. Lambert laughed, cackled even,
at the question. That sound made my insides go cold with dread.

“Poor girl,” she said, pity in her
voice. “It must be so hard.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Living with a father like yours, I
mean. Having to bail him out of a holding cell night after night, wondering if
he’ll be okay in the morning. It must be very difficult for you. Even now, I
can how much he burdens you, and yet, you’re so willing to do whatever it takes
to help him. I admire your
spirit
.”

Mrs. Lambert’s smile had morphed
into a wicked smirk, her eyes creased like a cat who was about to jump right on
a big, fat rat. She waved her hand and continued.

“I’m not a monster. I will speak to
Judge Watts and see to it your father is set free… And I am going to pay you to
leave my son, Ms. Devereaux,” Dorian’s mother said, making sure to put a heavy
emphasis on “Ms.” as well as use my maiden name. “I am going to pay you a
lot
of money to simply disappear from
his, and all our lives and never trouble us with your presence again. You’ll be
taking the baby with you, and you’re never looking back.”

“I’m not going to do that,” I
protested. “Dorian and I—”

“Are nothing to one another,” she interrupted.
“You don’t actually think that Dorian loves you, do you? Please—he’s
my
son.”

“Why would you do this?” My lips
felt numb, and my voice was weaker than I wanted it to be. “Why?”

Mrs. Lambert, fixed me with a
horrifying gaze, her lip curling into a venomous sneer. She looked like some
kind of horrible nightmare beneath the falsehoods of her plastic surgery.

“Do you know what a legacy is, Ms.
Devereaux? The thing that you leave behind after you’re gone?”

“I know what it is,” I snapped. “I
went to law school, Mrs. Lambert.”

“Then you know that all that’s left
of you is what you leave behind and
who
you leave it
to
. In which case, I
will throw my fortune to the crocodiles of the Nile before I ever see it near
your grubby, poor,
colored
hands. My
line won’t be corrupted, not by you or anyone like you.”

I snorted bitterly. “And why the
hell would I agree to this deal after a speech like that? If anything, I ought
to announce our damn vows in the Sunday paper, you racist piece of shit.”

Damn, this baby was giving me
courage. I’d noticed that ever since it was conceived, I’d begun standing up
for myself, putting my foot down,
demanding
the respect I was owed. Motherhood was going to suit me. The question was
whether Dorian would be there to notice.

“There’s that temper again. I bet
you got it from your father. I wouldn’t recommend lashing out, unless you’d
like to join him,” she said, lifting a hand to point at a security camera.

“Don’t do this. Not to me. Not to my
family. I’m carrying your grandchild. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” I
protested.

“It means enough that I will ensure
that you and the child are in good spirits for the rest of your miserable
little lives.”

Mrs. Lambert sat, crossing one of
her long, slender legs over the other, her hands clasped upon her knee. “And
Dorian will be thrilled at the idea of not having to pretend to loving someone
like
you
.
”

Was she right? Dorian had been
distant since the Harmony incident. Did Dorian even want to keep up this little
charade?

Once again, the shriveled-up witch
seemed to read my mind. She smiled broadly, her ruby lips parting like the red
sea over gleaming white teeth.

“Don’t you see, Georgia?” she
purred, her eyes sparkling. “I’m doing you a favor, really. I could see right
through you two from the very start. Everyone knew, darling, that your marriage
was nothing—just a scheme my intrepid son cooked up to get his inheritance.
Didn’t you notice how people looked at you two on the streets? How the sad
employees of that awful courthouse looked at you two as you walked in, Dorian
in a ten thousand dollar hand tailored suit and you in some low budget dress?
You never would have fit in with us, darling, and you would have dragged my
son—and the Lambert name—down with you when you fell.”

She stood then, smoothing out her
black sheath dress as she approached, her steps even, hands still clasped
tightly in front of her. She stopped only a few inches away, and I realized
this was the closest Mrs. Lambert had ever deigned to get to me.

“And you would have fallen
eventually,
Gigi
,” she murmured, like
we were old friends, like she was telling me a secret that was for my own good.