“Priscilla Dumay sent a hit man to murder her,” Mena deadpanned. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have been so blunt. I’m sure you’ve heard about Priscilla’s crimes, how she sold genetically altered babies to infertile couples.”
Beaujean nodded. “She used surrogates to give birth to the babies.”
“Unwilling surrogates. All the women who gave birth to babies had been kidnapped by Zak Webber on Priscilla’s orders,” Mena explained.
“Even the woman who held the gun on you?” Beaujean asked.
“Ella and two other surrogates were held hostage in the basement of the gallery. That night, she’d been desperate to escape and get her freedom back. After she gave birth, she left the baby behind. I’m guessing it’s because he wasn’t her biological child. Some kind of way, Zak found her and killed her before she could tell the cops what was going on,” Mena said.
Beaujean stepped away from the desk and walked toward the window. “That’s tragic.”
“It’s one of the reasons I’m so committed to testifying against Priscilla tomorrow. She has to pay for her crimes. She can’t terrorize and kill people and get away with it.”
“She won’t,” Beaujean said, then turned to face Mena. “Tell me about Uma Fischer, your former assistant. Where is she now?”
“I don’t know,” Mena stammered, confused by Beaujean’s abrupt change in subject. “You realize she worked with the former Director of the gallery to replace stolen art with forgeries.”
“I also heard she tried to get a job at a few other galleries and museums and no one would give her a second chance,” Beaujean said.
“You want to hire her back at the gallery? She wasn’t even that great of a conservator,” Mena said.
“I believe in second chances,” Beaujean said. “Find her. Let her know she’s welcome to come back if she’s interested.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mena said.
“I didn’t ask you what you thought. I asked you to find her and give her the offer.”
Bristling, Mena nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Chapter Six
Wind rushed through the open accordion doors leading out to the balcony that traversed the entire length of the living room of Penthouse Suite A. The warm breeze wafted across Julian’s face as he leaned over the wrought iron carved railing. He gazed at the hypnotic, deep blue Caribbean waters stretching far into the distance. The low hum of carefree partygoers wafted up from seven floors below, the beginning of revelry as the sun began to set.
Harmony Towers was at the apex of the upscale St. Basil Entertainment District, where Bishop Avenue and King Street intersected. Lined with ritzy shops, trendy clubs and the best restaurants, it was the premier location to live on the island. Julian had snagged the prime real estate in Harmony Towers after a month’s long bidding war between him and three other potential buyers. He’d overpaid for the penthouse, but he didn’t regret it.
It was a place for him and Mena to call home. A way for him to show the woman he loved how committed he was to their relationship, even in the wake of her meltdown over his marriage proposal. The multi-million dollar pay out for saving Wangari Irungu’s life was more than enough to fund the new lifestyle he shared with Mena.
Julian leaned back, glancing inside the living room at the clock mounted on the wall. A twenty-two thousand dollar addition to the decor purchased on a whim after seeing Mena’s face light up as they perused the stores on King Street. It was half-past eight and Mena still wasn’t home.
Tomorrow, they’d face Priscilla Dumay head-on, testifying in her trial. But tonight, he wanted to give Mena an escape to relax her and take her mind off everything. A subtle chasm still existed between them, almost two months after his proposal, despite all his efforts to reassure her. She wasn’t ready to get married. He knew it was tearing her up inside to let him down. In her mind, she thought he’d end their relationship because she didn’t want to be a wife again. Each day, in little ways, he could feel her seeking assurances that he wasn’t going to walk out on her. It damn near broke his heart.
Her divorce wasn’t a subject she’d opened up to him about. At first, he didn’t care about the details. He didn’t want to think about her committing to be some other man’s devoted wife before friends, family and God. The thought of it left a sour taste in his mouth.
Now, he wanted to know why. What had happened between her and her first husband that turned her so completely off the institution of holy matrimony?
And why couldn’t his love for her, the unconditional love they shared, get her past that pain?
She knew his darkest secret. The mistake he’d made that could land him in prison for the rest of his life. Opening up to her had been the hardest decision he’d ever made. No one else knew what he’d done. He was blessed that she saw past the arrogance and selfishness of his actions and still believed in him. She still loved him, despite his flaws.
Didn’t she know that she could trust him with her past?
Or was he pushing for access to a past that would do nothing but harm them in the future?
He wasn’t sure, but he was going to try again to eliminate the undercurrent of strain and tension that his marriage proposal had created. He didn’t regret telling her that he wanted nothing more than to be her husband. But marriage never was and would never be a deal breaker for him.
Tonight, he would make it clear that he loved Mena no matter what. Living the rest of his life with her, on whatever terms she was comfortable with, was the only thing he needed.
The door shut behind him.
