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I glared at him through the mist I couldn’t contain. “Don’t you have some squats to do? Barbells to lift?”
He laughed, albeit tightly. As though my being shredded to the core over another of Dane’s absences shredded him as well.
Amano said to Dane, “I’m stuck with their bickering. I’m not sure you’re paying me enough.”
Dane kissed me on the cheek. “Play nice so Amano doesn’t quit on us.”
As if that would ever happen. The man was the epitome of devotion. But I said, “I’ll try.”
Once again, I watched my husband leave me. Painfully praying for his safe return.
* * *
I spent the first week restlessly prowling the house. I left CNN on every TV, in every room, 24-7. There was huge coverage of Bent’s suicide and the indictments. Wild speculation. Tons of theories and a lot of political strategists, lawyers, economics experts, and talk-show personalities debating the Billionaire Effect—as it’d been dubbed—on our society and globally. They brought average Joes into the studio to relay their hardships during the ’08 recession and how livid they were to possibly face another hit because those in power could influence change to their advantage, leaving the middle and lower class hanging out to dry.
This had to grate on Dane’s nerves as he watched, too. Wherever the hell he was.
This was exactly what he fought to keep from happening.
I soaked up every tidbit I could, latched on to every estimation of when trials would begin. The climate in D.C. was intriguing to factor in, since the society’s network was riddled with politicos and world leaders—whose names were slowly leaked. For better or for worse.
I wasn’t sure how all of this impacted our country or others, but tensions were definitely high. There was a lot of finger-pointing going on and endless he said, she said.
I browsed for items for the nursery while I kept the programs on in the background. I had a stack of catalogs to peruse, and I relied on my old trick of tearing out pages and pinning them to the wall over my desk in Dane’s office. I liked having the options staring me in the face. I’d eventually choose a theme, after I’d collected enough samples.
Unfortunately, baby planning didn’t fully occupy my mind. I spoke with my dad only once on the iPad. Dane called on the endless stream of disposable phones Amano provided. He destroyed each of them after just one use. And I wasn’t allowed to stay on for long.
Though Wayne Horton knew about the creek house, I was 99.9 percent certain there was no way he’d ever get through our gates or over our fences. That, however, didn’t mean he couldn’t hack phones or computers—he’d proven quite good at it. Oddly, everything in our lives had become disposable because of him.
r /> Since I refused to sit around and twiddle my thumbs, I put time and effort into another project.
10,000 Lux.
Kyle came into the office on a rainy Sunday afternoon, propped his broad shoulder against the doorframe, and asked, “Wallpaper not in the billion-dollar budget?”
I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Ha, ha.” Then I turned back to the span of wall that separated my work space from Dane’s. The room was large, with distressed leather sofas and chairs scattered about, along with coffee and end tables. A gorgeous fireplace trimmed with river rock filled one corner. I kept it on a low flame for ambience.
I’d hung photos of the lobby and main building of the Lux that I’d taken last fall, when I’d had to assess all of the Christmas decorations I’d need to order prior to the grand opening of the resort. That had never actually come to fruition. Well, the decorating had taken place. But our soft launch had been thwarted by the bomb.
“So you’re turning Dane’s office into a Lux museum?” Kyle asked.
“Not exactly.” I crossed to an oversized chair and sank into it. Kyle joined me, taking the sofa on the other side of a sturdy wooden coffee table.
“What gives, then? And does this have anything to do with that field trip we took to the hotel the night we got the snake visit?”
“Yes.” I pulled in a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I want to rebuild the resort.”
“Oh, Christ.” He sprang to his feet. Shoved a hand through his sandy hair. “Come on, Ari. That’s like huge. Monumental. Astronomical. Totally insane. Take your pick.”
My eyes narrowed on him. “Are you saying I can’t do it?”
“Where the hell would you even start?”
“Well.” I’d put significant thought into this. Yet it was still daunting. I licked my lips and tried to infuse a healthy dose of confidence into my voice. “First of all, the main building is still taped off but no longer considered an off-limits crime scene, since investigators have collected their evidence and taken their photographs.”
Too bad they hadn’t been able to pinpoint a culprit as of now. I was further disconcerted that no one had come forward with the recovery of my wedding bracelet, despite the hefty reward offered. Luckily, I had a new engraved bracelet, which matched Dane’s. Still, thirty carats of chevron diamonds were difficult to part with—not to mention the symbolism of the stunning piece of jewelry he’d originally given me. My wedding band.
Continuing, I said, “I’m not sure when we can clear the grounds, but I’ve already had Jackson send out a request for proposal to several companies to get a quote and time estimation on removing the debris. That’s all he knows about my plans. I personally contacted the original engineers and architects. They’ll have to determine if the remaining portion of the main building is structurally sound.”
