After some tweaking, this fire would actually benefit the new design rather than delay it. She swallowed hard at the realization. If she weren't certain of her alibi, it would almost seem like the saboteur had done her a favor both with the former accidents that led to her hiring and the fire that would escalate the demolition she'd planned. Some might call it synchronicity, but she called it suspicious.
She kicked at a piece of charred wood.
"You look lost in thought." Marc folded his arms across his chest and surveyed the damage. "We won't have to scramble as much as anticipated."
"Strange how that worked out, isn't it?" She looked at the team of engineers moving around the floor along with the arson inspector. She couldn't shake the sense of unease rolling in her stomach.
They'd spent all mornings in meetings, had been questioned by the arson investigator when they'd arrived, and had been examining the structure with the team all afternoon. She felt dirty and mentally worn down.
"What are you thinking?" Marc brushed some soot from the cuff of his suit as they walked into the sunlight.
"I think it will only cost a week in delays, at least if the initial engineering report is accurate." She kept her gaze on the arson inspector.
"There's no need to go back to the office, it's already 5:30. Want me to give you a ride home?" Marc removed his hard hat and ran a hand through his black hair.
"No, I'll take the T." She handed him her hat and grinned. They both looked like they'd been up for too long after being up too late. "Thanks for today, this morning, all of it."
"My pleasure, that's what I do." A smudge of dirt streaked across his nose, black hair fell across his eyes, and his smile worked its magic on easing her worry. "We need to celebrate the big promotion."
"Tomorrow night's the big dinner Sela's planned. This week is probably a bad idea, though, too much going on now." She glanced over her shoulder at the project that was intended to secure her destiny. "Arson. I hope that firebug has moved on to another project. As for the dinner, we should reschedule."
"Sela will never forgive me if I let you cancel the party."
She needed to tell him about Jacques but didn't know how to bring up the subject. Her heart lifted at the thought of walking into her apartment and seeing him waiting for her.
"On second thought, I would appreciate a ride home if it's not too much trouble." She didn't meet his gaze as they walked toward his car.
Neither spoke until after he'd merged into traffic and she'd checked the messages on her phone.
"He's at your apartment, isn't he?" Marc asked without looking at her. "That's why you're being so quiet and acting like your dog died."
"It's more than that." She rested her head back against the seat and exhaled a long breath. The timing for all of this couldn't be worse. "We're going to try again."
Marc clenched his jaw in response, tightened his grip on the wheel, but kept his gaze focused on the traffic in front of them.
"It's temporary." He shrugged. "I'll behave, though, if that's what you're worried about. I can indulge your whim and I'll be there for you when it's over. Don't worry."
"I'm not worried." She looked away from him, bothered at his nonchalant attitude. After the way he'd behaved last night at the fire, she'd expected a full-blown argument complete with bullet points as to why this was a bad idea.
"We worked well together today, like partners." He changed the subject. "I can see it now...Jenkins and Moriarty Architecture. We'll blow them all away, just like we talked about in graduate school."
She grinned at the memory of their big dreams. "I can't believe you remember that."
"Remember it? We spent hours sketching our future office building. I framed it." He flashed her a smile. "I have it hanging in my home office. Didn't you ever notice?"
When she'd visited Marc's apartment, she'd never set foot in his home office. She shook her head and sobered.
"We've been working hard for this, Mori. You and me...it's been in the works for years."
She swallowed hard, the unease of earlier washing over her. More out of exhaustion than anything, she remained silent until they reached her block.
"I'll see you later then. I really wish we were doing this dinner on the weekend, I'm tired."
"Jane's going out of town so Sela wanted to do it tomorrow night. It's a simple dinner, no fuss." Marc turned in his seat and faced her. The man definitely looked like Prince Charming, too bad her heart didn't feel for him what it felt for Jacques. "What's that look for?"
"What look?" With one hand on the door, she reached behind the seat for her messenger bag.
He took the opportunity to grab her face and kiss her as if this were their normal routine. "When it all goes to hell with the photographer, I promise I won't make you crawl back to me."
She pulled back from him as if struck and got out of the car. She bit back the words she ached to say, slammed the door closed, and walked up her steps without looking back.
The silence of her apartment slapped her in the face. No Jacques. No note. No sign that he'd been here or that he planned to return.
She dropped her things on the chair and collapsed on the sofa. For someone who supposedly had her act together, she felt like her carefully constructed world unraveled all around her.
* * *
Chapter Twelve
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned...The phrase reverberated through his mind as he faced Simone in his hotel room.
"These are the press releases I have lined up to go tomorrow. It is up to you which one I use." She tossed them at him. "Please note that I make sure to drag Ava—see how I call her the up and coming fashion star?—down with you."
"Why are you doing this? None of it makes any sense. I am not worth all of this."
"That is true, you are not." She tossed a long strand of hair over her shoulder, tilted up her chin, and stared him down. "Keep looking. I also suggest how your diplomat father worked to clear you of murder charges."
"Not just me, you were included, too." He grabbed the papers and read them despite himself. He'd held out a glimmer of hope that she'd let this go, that she would be civilized.
"Read on. You'll see how my publicist is spinning this in my favor. I'm the innocent victim swept up in a sea of scandal by my wild photographer boyfriend and his rich family. She thinks this could help transition me to Hollywood—you know, speaking engagements, perhaps selling my story for a movie deal, all of that. While I soar, your career may survive, but your little love affair with the scared little mouse won't fare so well." She paced the room, her long legs devouring the space around him. He felt like a piece of meat being circled by a wicked hyena when she laughed. "Of course there is the alternative press release where you are the hero who stood by my side all of this time, who endured torture yet rose above it to claim success. Which one will I use? You tell me, Jacques. Make the choice for me."
"How long have you been planning on doing this?" He tossed the papers aside, anger rising hot and fast. "This isn't something you did in a few hours."
She stopped pacing long enough to glare at him. "Murdering a young girl will put a damper on your exhibit that's all about joy and celebrating life, don't you think? Maybe it will even jeopardize your relationship with NatGeo. Why would they want an international murderer on their team?"
"You're such a bitch, you know that's not what happened. You were also accused. If we'd been found guilty, we'd both be rotting in a Thai prison." He wanted to choke the smile from her face. "I took care of you, we survived because of each other. We had an agreement."
"I knew you were looking for a way out of our agreement long before you came to Boston, cheri. How long did you think I was going to tolerate being treated like a lower class citizen by your snooty sister and your so-called intellectual friends?" She stepped toward him. "Choose."
"When are you doing this?" he asked through clenched teeth.
"Friday morning, the day before your exhibit."
> "I see." He thought of all who would be effected—Ava who was riding high after a successful spring fashion week, their father would be shielded somewhat in Europe, but Jessica had her new promotion and had always been overly concerned with her reputation. Hell, she didn't even want her paintings on display, how could she walk by his side now? "That is why you were so calm this morning when I told you about Jessica."
"It will never happen," she said with a gleam in her eye. "Either you will spare her by choosing me or she will leave when things get too messy for her. She is a Puritan, so perfect. Do you think she'll want to touch you after she finds out how filthy you are?"
"Why do you hate me?" He sat on the edge of his bed and looked at the papers in his hands. "Damn it, Simone. Why are you doing this? We have been through so much, why are you turning on me now?"
They'd been in Singapore together, two wild people indulging in every seedy thing they could find, including a ménage with another woman barely twenty-years old. They'd woken up with the young Thai woman dead between them. It had been hell—the Thai authorities showed them no mercy. They'd been in jail, alone in the world. He'd been unwilling to contact his family, shame had kept him behind bars. Simone had no family and no friends, so she'd needed him to work the system for them both.
She'd been sexually assaulted multiple times by guards and he'd been beaten so often he'd lost count. They'd taken care of each other. They'd been foreigners locked in hell together, but they had survived. They had made promises. They had kept secrets.
"Does Jessica have any idea how kinky you like to get, bebe?" She trailed a finger down his chest.
Rage pushed him to his feet. He grabbed her arms and pushed her toward the door. "There's no need for any of this to come out. What good can come of it?"
"Are you kidding? I'm getting too old to model—hosting that stupid modeling contest is proof that I am being aged out—and I need to transition my career. This is the key to unlocking new opportunities for me. Acting. Speaking engagements. My agent says—"
"How long has your agent known about this?"
"Does it matter? This will give me back the spotlight."
"Spotlight? You were raped, I was beaten, we were both starved. We're lucky to be alive and free. You want to use that to transition your career, to ruin mine, to be in a fucking spotlight?"
"The timing is perfect. Your show. Your book. My photo shoot with Vogue. It would have been better in New York, but you had to be in Boston so I'm improvising. I have been waiting for this moment, my chance to break away."
"Break away from me?" He stared at her, hands digging into her biceps. What she said made no sense. He'd thought she loved him, thought she stayed with him because of some sort of fantasy she had about their life together. Betrayal spun through his mind like a tornado. Fierce. Merciless.
"You never loved me and I never loved you. We have been together for convenience, because we are good for each other's careers. It hasn't hurt you by knowing me. Do I love you? No. Does it shock you that I didn't fall for the great Jacques Sinclair like everyone else in the world does?" She sneered, the look changing her face from beautiful to hideous. "You look so surprised that I would use you. Isn't that what you like, cheri? Jessica used you, I used you...aside from being a damn good lover, that's all you're good for."
Not releasing her, he opened the door behind her back.
"I never want to see you again. I don't care if you are dying, I don't want to hear from you, do you understand me? You are nothing to me. Do what you want, like you've planned all along. But you know something?" He held her close so she'd have no doubt he was telling the truth. "When the smoke clears, I will still have my family and friends. What will you have? Fame? Notoriety? You'll be alone."
He shoved her from the room, uncaring that she tripped backward and fell into the wall.
"Whoa, what's happening?" Kevin dodged Simone's falling body. He looked horrified when he looked up. "Have you lost your mind?"
"You may think they'll stand by you, but it will never be the same, will it? The great Jacques Sinclair will be stained with shame. Think carefully before making your decision final." She shoved her hair from her eyes before pushing past Kevin.
Turning his back on the hallway, he slammed the door behind him and looked at his packed bags. Never before had he felt like he needed to make a choice. Either he backed off from Jessica until the storm cleared or he warned her about what was about to come and let her decide what she wanted.
Kevin knocked on the door until he answered. "Do not tell me this isn't my business because I get the distinct feeling that all hell is breaking loose."
"I knew this exhibit was a bad idea...the book...obscurity is better than all of this attention." He shoved his hands through his hair and walked through the papers now scattered on the floor. "I never once thought she'd do this, but she's planned it all along. She used me."
Kevin scooped up the papers and started reading. Eventually, he sank to the floor, cross-legged, and removed his glasses to rub his eyes. "Jesus, we need to rally. Her timing couldn't be worse."
"Don't you mean better?" He punched the wall.
"Oh fuck." Kevin moaned with his head in his hands. "This counteracts all of Miranda's feel-good-uplifting-bullshit marketing for the exhibit, not to mention the book."
He sat on the floor, too, and looked at his packed bags. "Perfect timing for her to do this, I fell right into it. She encouraged it all, pushed it...although she'd wanted me to choose a Manhattan gallery over Boston, that wasn't part of the plan."
"Because of the brunette." Kevin smiled and put his glasses back in place. "She wanted New York because Ava is well-known there and wanted you to be alone. Here you have the brunette."
"Jessica."
"Yeah, whatever. Let me think. In the statements she refers to a Thai girl...this dead girl wasn't underage was she?"
"God, no, she was twenty." He scrubbed his face with his fists, mind scattered in a thousand different directions. They'd had a threesome with a prostitute, not for the first time. They'd both liked living on the wild side and indulging every fetish imaginable. They'd been out of control, together they were like gasoline and flame.
"She's implying otherwise with her use of the word girl." Kevin waved the papers in his hand. "We need to do something, be proactive, counteract all of this with a statement of our own. I need to at least warn Miranda...oh, God, Carter! We need to get in front of this."
"How do we get in front of this? I was locked in a Thai prison for the better part of a year while I fought for our freedom. We had a threesome with a Thai prostitute who overdosed in our bed. This wasn't another lifetime, it was three years ago. How do we pretty this up for anyone, Kevin?" He groaned at the reality of the consequences for his decisions.
"We don't. We tell it like it is." Kevin stood, visibly shaken with the new information. "Before you fire me or try to tell me that I'd be better off disassociating with you—don't deny it, I see it in your face—I'm staying. You're the most talented photographer I know and I'm learning from you."
"Cockroach." He grinned despite the unraveling of his life. "No matter what I do, I can't get rid of you."
"Your book is very sexual, though...I mean, yes, it's artistic, but in the light of these new allegations—"
"—Facts, you mean, not allegations."
"—It may appear more erotic than you intended. Is the brunette prepared for that kind of attention? She's mostly naked in the pictures, that coupled with your new image as Bad-Boy-Playmate could be disastrous or beneficial depending on her attitude."
He groaned again and smacked the floor with open palms. "Fuck Simone. Why did I ever hook up with her? Of all the women in all the world, why her?"
"Welcome to the world we've all been living in for the past few years." Kevin noticed the bags and cameras piled on the bed. "Where are you going?"
Jessica. Last night he'd felt the sense of doom, but she'd assured him that she'd forgive him anythi
ng, that this time they could make it work. But they'd only been back together for twenty-four hours and he didn't trust their bond yet.
"I think I should back off from Jessica." He twisted the ring on his finger, his heart protesting his words. "Simone has given me a choice to make. I could avoid all of this if I stick it out with her for a few more months, give her enough time to use the story to transition her career."
Kevin blinked at him from behind the glasses, a frown on his face. With a sigh, he sat on the edge of the bed and fingered a strap on the camera case. "I can't help but think I should have hired a private investigator when you fell off the face of the earth. I thought I could find you on my own without distressing your family or looking like a paranoid freak."
Jacques looked away from his friend. He'd been in a bad place when he had met Simone again, had verbally assaulted more than one person who questioned their relationship, and hadn't exactly been deserving of anyone's friendship.
"It's the past. I never wanted it to be public knowledge for this very reason. You're already looking at me differently." He paced the room, his chest heavy with regret. "I need to deal with this before going to Jessica's. We've only just begun again...neither of us are the same people. I'm being unrealistic."
"Give her the choice."
If you want something bad enough, you make it happen. No excuses. His words.
He looked out the hotel window at the busy Boston street below. He'd come here for one reason only—to show Jessica he'd succeeded without her. At least that's what he'd told himself when in actuality he'd harbored a lot of anger and had needed answers. He'd gotten them...and another chance. But the anger hadn't completely diminished.
"Give me three hours," he muttered without looking away from the street below. "I'll go, tell her everything, and we'll decide what to do. If you don't hear from me, come with my bags and we'll make a plan. Don't tell Ava, she should hear it from me."
"I'll call Carter. He knows some public relations people, perhaps he'll have some insight." Kevin was already busy on his iPad. "Leave her address."