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“I have a flight to catch, Scarlet. There’s a birthday party I’m supposed to be at tonight.”
She shot a look over her shoulder at Michael. His chin hitched, telling her to press on.
Returning her attention to Sam, she tried to engage him once more. “I won’t lie that I was hoping for a piece to the puzzle when I spoke with your mother. But I most certainly was not hoping to reveal something you’d find disconcerting. You or Michael.”
“She fought a battle she told no one about, Scarlet,” Sam said. “At least, not until she’d started gambling and had dug a huge hole for herself. She kept it all inside, covered it all up.”
“Yes,” Scarlet said. “She’s been carrying around a lot of guilt and shame and the fear and reality of not being accepted. The inadequate feelings didn’t just go away once she had a ring on her finger, and chances are very good that’s because Mitcham had married her so quickly, she had a not-so-savory background, and she had to compete with Lindsay Vandenberg’s ghost.”
“Scarlet,” Sam hissed.
“What?” she insisted. “I can’t say that out loud? After all, Sam, I had to compete with Cassidy’s ghost until you caved to what you were feeling for me.”
“Yes. I know.” He stared out the window.
Michael, ever the voice of reason, suggested, “Maybe we all need a drink and a few minutes to process.”
Scarlet crossed her arms over her chest. She contritely said, “I have trouble letting things like this go. I stew over them. I apologize, but you have to realize that this is who I am.”
“No one’s putting the blame on you, Scarlet,” Michael told her. “It’s not an ideal situation, no question about it. But let’s face facts. All three of us knew what we were getting into when we started this affair. It’s been no secret that you’re looking for answers to solve a crime. Neither Sam nor I have had those answers. Karina doesn’t, either. My father won’t have anything new to impart since his wife made her confession. I get that you still feel there’s an avenue to pursue, and while Sam and I would prefer you close the vein, we can’t be upset with you for keeping your investigative options open.”
Sam’s head whipped around and he said, “He’s right. But, goddamn it. I am pissed.”
She nodded. “I think you have the right to be. I put your mother on the stand. I made her admit something I’m sure she never wanted her sons to know.” Scarlet looked at Michael. “She’s held herself accountable for her actions. She told her husband about her addictions. About the trouble she’d gotten herself into. Frankly, I admire that. I like Karina. Does it mean I’m done with my work?” She groaned. “I want to say yes. With every fiber of my being. I swear it.”
Sam radiated disgruntlement. Scarlet couldn’t begrudge him that. They rode the remainder of the way in silence. Traveled to the Tribeca district of Manhattan. They took the elevator up to the top of Michael’s apartment building. Scarlet admired the stylish décor and the panoramic skyline views, a nice distraction from her inner turmoil.
Silvery moonlight filtered in through the unadorned windows. A few lamps were set on a dim up-glow in the corners. The entire atmosphere was shadowy and seductive. As Scarlet gazed out of the tall glass panes, Michael stole behind her.
“What can I pour you?”
“Nothing at the moment, thanks.” She turned to him and pressed her mouth to his. Their lips parted a breath later and she kissed him with a mea culpa riding the wave of desire.
When they pulled away, Michael said, “Sam’s going to have a different perspective.”
She went to him as he stood by the gas fireplace that he’d flipped on. Splaying her hands over his pecs, she said, “Be angry with me all you want, as much as you need.”
“Until it’s out of my system?” he asked in a low, husky voice.
“If that’s possible.”
“I warned you once about carte blanche.”
“And I let you take it.”
“Scarlet.” His jaw set. His cerulean eyes deepened in color.
“I hurt you,” she told him. “I feel horrible about that. But I know you won’t retaliate. You won’t hurt me.”
“I’ll try not to.” He took her hand and led her to a desk set at an angle in the corner. He jerked the chair away and positioned her in front of the smoky glass top. He shoved her skirt up to her waist with no prelude. Whisked her sweater over her head. Guided her to bend over the smooth surface. From behind her, Scarlet heard the unfastening of his belt and the gliding of his zipper down its track on his dress pants.
He hooked an arm at the crook of her leg and lifted her thigh, so that her knee rested on the desk. His hand sli
d along her inner thigh to her apex. He stroked her folds, then her clit. Until she was wet and ready for him. Then he thrust into her from behind.
Hard and fast.
His palm flattened against the middle of her back so that she was pinioned to the glass top. His other hand was still between her legs and he massaged the swollen knot of nerves while he plunged into her. Drove quickly and forcefully.
