Her Dark Lies Page 18

  We couldn’t be more opposite if we tried. I’m relatively quiet, studious, shy; I let my art speak for me. Harper is larger than life, and rarely at a loss for words. Even our coloring is in contrast—Harper is a stunning brunette with perfectly balayaged extensions and the curves to match. What I wouldn’t do for some of that bust and ass. Her hair is bought, yes, but the rest of Harper is 100 percent good old-fashioned Hunter DNA. And the extroversion...everyone knows when Harper is in the building. She lives life with gusto, throwing herself at everything, heedless of embarrassment, upsetting people, or otherwise making waves.

  Not to mention she’s a seriously talented photographer and writer on top of it all. And a successful social media influencer. Whose brother-in-law is about to be Jack Compton.

  The sky is the limit for @HarperHuntsLife.

  Harper and I haven’t always gotten along, but lately, things have been on a good, even keel. Both of us are happy. Both are having a measure of success. Being adults has helped. Without the triple-barrel carpet bombs of teenage hormones, our father’s death, and our mother’s alcoholism, it’s easier for her to put her fury at me aside, and easier for me to forgive her eternal anger.

  Harper joins us on the terrace, chattering like a jaybird. “Jack’s brother was on the ferry with us. Tyler? He’s totally hot, and there was another equally hot guy with him. How are you? You look pale. I brought all my makeup—I can get some color in your cheeks before the rehearsal if you want me to. And when are we doing the last fitting for the dress? You know you need to have it nipped once more, you just keep losing weight, lucky girl. I don’t know how—”

  “Harper. Take a breath,” I say, amused. “Look around. Enjoy the moment. Listen to the rain. Exist. Isn’t that your brand strategy, existing in the moment?”

  “Sorry, sorry, I’ve had about forty espressos today.”

  “We can tell,” Katie replies with an eye roll.

  “Where’s Mom and Brian?”

  Harper’s face falls a bit. “Mom went straight to her room, she is still super jet-lagged. She...”

  She breaks off, looking at Katie.

  “She what?”

  Harper sighs. “She had a few glasses of wine this week.”

  My heart sinks. This I don’t need right now.

  “She’s fine—she’s totally fine. Like, literally had two glasses and stopped.”

  “Two glasses total? Or two a meal?”

  “Really, Claire, I shouldn’t have even said anything. Forget I mentioned it. She’s fine. Wow, it’s beautiful here.” Harper stalks to the edge of the terrace, and I realize she is wearing studded Louboutin high-heeled boots. Good to see New York is treating her well.

  “That yacht is incredible. We’re having the rehearsal dinner on the boat, right?”

  “Right. Brunch today, rehearsal tonight. There’s supposed to be a break in the weather.”

  “The wedding is moved up, too?”

  “Yes. It’s not such a big deal, especially since now, everyone’s here.” I smile, injecting some extra sweet into it to cover my dark thoughts. If my mother is drinking again, that is bad news.

  “I swear, Claire, if you were any more agreeable...”

  “Hush, Harper. No sense fighting it. Henna knows what she’s doing. So does Ana. I’m just along for the ride. Besides, I’m down with being married sooner. I’m going mad with all the waiting.”

  “Speaking of the wedding, Harper, you can’t wear heels that high for the ceremony. You’re going to tower over everyone,” Katie gripes.

  “I know. Don’t worry, I have flats. Like, ten pairs or something. I couldn’t decide which matched the dress best, so I brought them all. I can take pictures and let my peeps decide.”

  “You know, if you weren’t such a savvy businesswoman, Harper, I’d think you were a vacuous twit.”

  “Fuck off, Katie.”

  Well, this is a lovely start. “Truce, ladies. Please? For me? Hey, if it stops raining for a while, maybe we can spend some time exploring. We can hike up to the big cliff. Did you know Caesar once hid here? The history is incredible.”

  “Sounds like fun. Though we don’t need you tripping and breaking an ankle before the wedding.” Harper’s camera is in her hand, she is already snapping away. She stops, looks at me over her shoulder. “I’m looking forward to...you know,” she says quietly.

  “I know. Jack will come get you later. I’m not sure of the timing.”

  “For what?” Katie demands.

  “The photoshoot,” Harper says, the sense of pride in her voice obvious.

  At Katie’s confused look, I provide the rest. “Brice and Ana thought it would be nice for Harper to do some candid family shots,” I say.

  “And Flair is going to run the spread. I’m going to interview Brice and Ana for them.”

  “Because this wedding is all about Brice Compton,” Katie grumbles. “Figures.”

  “It’s a legitimate business opportunity, and of course the story will discuss Jack and Claire.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  I’m so used to their fussing that I’ve already tuned out their squabble. Always the same. It’s why I don’t normally try to get them together like this. Harper and Katie snipe at each other, incessantly.

  Then again, Katie snipes at everyone these days. My transition away from her best friend to Jack Compton’s wife is going to be a difficult one, and we both know it.

  We need a distraction, and I’m hot with the urge to confess. To purge myself. To be washed clean by the benediction of the women in my life. They will understand. They will.

  But I have to censor myself. I can’t get them in trouble.

  Katie sees me trying to find the words. “What’s wrong, Claire?”

  I blow out a long breath. “I guess the most pressing thing is someone ruined my dress.”

  Harper whirls around. “What do you mean, someone ruined your dress?”

  “Someone painted the word WHORE on it in what looked like blood. It’s ruined. Ana was going to reach out to you, Harper, to see if you could find a replacement on the mainland. I take it she didn’t get you?”

  “She may have, but my phone hasn’t been working well. I must have missed her call. Oh, Claire. I am so sorry.”

  Katie puts an arm around my shoulder. “Are you okay? You’re in love with that dress.”

  “I’m a little numb, to be honest. I mean...” My voice quavers, and I clear my throat. I am not going to cry. I refuse to break again. That’s what this has been designed to do, a long-term, steady campaign to get me to break. Fuck whoever is screwing with me.

  “Where is your dress now?” Harper asks.

  “The seamstress took it away yesterday.”

  “Oh, I wish Ana had gotten through, our hotel was right by an adorable shop that I could have gone into before we left.”

  Twist that knife, sister. Yes, it would have been nice if you’d bothered answering your phone. I don’t for a second believe that it wasn’t working well, how else were you uploading all your photos online this week?

  I must have sighed, because she catches my hand. “Claire. Do you want me to see if it can be fixed?”

  “Henna was going to try to cut a panel out of it, but it’s trashed. Past recovery, I’m afraid.”

  “You let me make that call. I bet I can find a length of satin and we can replace it.”

  “We’re on an island in the middle of nowhere, Harper. Where are you going to find fabric that matches?”

  She smiles, the radiant sunbeam that knocks people down in its glory. My sister is a pretty, pretty girl. “We’re in Italy, Claire. This is the fashion capital of the world. Let me try, at least. The dress is so beautiful, I’d hate for you not to be able to wear it.”

  Breathe, Claire. Let her help.

  “Okay. Thank you, Harper
. I would appreciate that.”

  Harper gives me a swift hug, disappears into my rooms like a shot. I hear her rustling around, she must be grabbing her bags on the way out.

  Katie looks impressed, which is saying something. “Maybe little sister will save the day. Though if I get my hands on whoever messed with your dress, I’ll kill them,” she says, still watching me. “There’s more. What is it, Claire? What’s going on?”

  I blow out a breath. “You can’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  “An intruder broke into the house Monday night. Malcolm, Jack’s security guard, shot him.”

  “Dead? Shot him dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who the hell was it?”

  I stumble on my answer. I am not quite ready to pull back the curtain on the mess that is going to ensue when I admit to my fiancé that I do know the intruder. I know him very well. I’d prefer to have this part of things private, at least until Jack and I can have a talk.

  But this is my best friend. She knows my secrets. My lies. Maybe she can help me find the path.

  The uneasy sense of newfound knowledge—how could I have missed it before?—assails me. How had my mind tricked me? How had it thrown up the barrier to let me look right at him and still not see it?

  “Who was it, Claire?” she asks again.

  “It was Shane. Shane McGowan. He—”

  My words are cut off by Jack, calling from inside the room.

  “Where’s my bride-to-be? It’s time for our brunch!”

  I whisper, “Do not say anything, Katie. Please.”

  “He doesn’t know about Shane?”

  “No. He doesn’t. Just stay quiet, for me. I will handle this.”

  “You’ll handle what, darling?” Jack asks, stepping onto the terrace.

  37

  The Great Confession

  Jack is soaking wet.

  “Where have you been?” I ask.

  “Oh, Elliot needed to talk about the server issue.”

  “In the pool?”

  He swipes a hand through his hair, slicking it back into place. “We walked to the cottages. Hey, Katie. You all settled in?”

  “I am, Jack. Thank you. Your family’s hospitality is wonderful.”

  I shoot her a look—she’s laying it on pretty thick.

  “What are you going to handle?” Jack asks me.

  I don’t answer. My head is still reeling, my mind is screaming not to tell him anything, that he’s going to hate me, that he’s going to leave me.

  This is my greatest fear. I can put voice to it, now that I’m faced with its imminent prospect. If he finds out about my past, he’s going to walk away. Why would he want to be saddled with me? His family, his parents, they aren’t going to want me as a part of the Compton clan when they find out the horrors I’ve been through. The horrors I’ve caused.

  “I texted, but you didn’t answer.”

  He glances at his phone. “It didn’t come through. The signal is pretty bad today, with the weather. What’s up?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. Just checking to see where you were.”

  “Missed me already?”

  “I always miss you when you’re not here.”

  He beams at me. Katie clears her throat. “God, get a room.”

  We laugh, then silence envelops us.

  “Well, that’s my cue. Brunch is in fifteen minutes. I better get moving. I’ll see you down there.”

  Katie gives me a stare that says tell him or I will.

  Once the door is shut, he rubs his face and sighs. “God, what a morning. Elliot is being a first-class asshole. Just a heads-up, in case he’s rude to you. He’s in a mood.”

  “Got it. Everything okay with the servers? Any news?”

  “Nothing yet. Seriously, you don’t need to worry about it. Dad’s got it handled.”

  Jack pulls me in for a hug and the move strikes me in a way it never has before. Unlike my previous lovers, he is a gentle, tactile man, never worried about PDA. He’s always holding my hand, draping an arm across my shoulders, playing with my hair. Lots of kisses and private touches. I’ve never had anyone so openly affectionate before.

  Normally it makes me feel cherished, treasured.

  But at this moment, with the specter of Shane drifting about, I don’t want to be touched. I certainly don’t want to be hugged. I’m feeling claustrophobic. I want to get out of here. To run away. It’s what I do best, run. I do not want to have to tell my soon-to-be husband about my ties to Shane McGowan.

  I have no choice, though. I must, before someone else does.

  I extricate myself from his arms, ignore the spike of guilt. He doesn’t seem to notice me pulling away, just smiles benevolently. But there is something sharp beneath his look.

  “Katie was being weirder than normal.”

  “I told her about the break-in.”

  “Ah.” Jack crosses his arms. “You told her what, exactly?”

  “Don’t worry. You know me better than that.”

  He goes in motion, such a classic Jack response to a difficult question that I know something is coming. He strolls around the room, touching things. The flowers, the marble-inlay table, the handle to the French doors. Such expensive trinkets and furnishings. So decadent. He stares out at the rain for a few moments.

  “I know it’s been rough going, darling, but it’s going to be all right. I promise.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I join him at the terrace doors, look out over the turbulent sea. The water has gone from blue to gray, small whitecaps forming. The winds are picking up; a fresh wave of storms are coming in. Clouds are scudding hard across the sky, and thunder rolls across the bay.

  “I know who it is. Who...Malcolm shot.”

  “What?”

  “I haven’t been entirely honest with you, Jack.”

  There’s genuine confusion on his face, and when I say the words I’ve been dreading for so long, watch the ticking of the muscle in his jaw that indicates he is furious, I decide I better go all in.

  “Can we sit down?”

  “Yes, I think we should,” he says, the words clipped and tight. We face off—him on the sofa, me in the wing chair next to it. He keeps hold of my hand, trying to reassure both himself and me, I think.

  “The man who broke into the house, the man who was shot, his name is Shane McGowan. He was my boyfriend for a while. Back before my father died. He was bad news, and I stopped seeing him after the accident. Because he went to jail. I had to testify against him. I—”

  Jack has dropped my hand. I feel suddenly cold, and small. Jack’s face is turning red. I expect an explosion, but his voice is as quiet and deadly as I have ever heard.

  “That bastard got out of jail and was trying to intimidate you? I’d fucking kill him if he wasn’t already dead. How did Karmen let this happen?”

  I’m completely confused. “You knew? You knew about Shane?”

  “I don’t know the details. But yes, I know of him. He came up in your background check. I was assured he was nothing to be concerned about. Of course, now we know that assessment was wrong. That’s Karmen’s problem, not yours.”

  “Well, it is mine.”

  “No. Stick with the plan, Claire. We’ve got this covered. But I’m curious. Why you didn’t tell me about this Shane character?”

  “Because he was a bad decision, and I thought he was out of my life forever.”

  “Fair enough. I admit I hadn’t given him a thought, either. But we’re a team, Claire. You have to share everything with me. I will never hold your past against you, and I would hope you’d offer me the same courtesy.”

  “You aren’t mad at me?”

 
; “Because you dated a jerk in high school? Why would I be?”

  “If it gets out, it will embarrass the family. Embarrass you. He is—he was—trouble.”

  “Oh, Claire.” He hugs me again, and this time, I let him. “If Karmen, or my parents, for that matter, thought this was a problem, they would have made more than a casual mention to me. This situation isn’t on you. Karmen is the one who has to redeem herself in the eyes of the family. This situation is of her own making.”

  “I... I don’t know. I was just... I can’t believe you’re not mad.”

  “I’m relieved, to be perfectly honest.”

  “Relieved?”

  He pulls me to the sofa next to him, and I lean into him. This time, instead of being claustrophobic, it’s comforting.

  “Listen to me. Even if your past association with this asshole was embarrassing, don’t you see? It’s all over. I’ll bet the cameras in the house were meant to capture something that he could use to try and humiliate you, to blackmail you. To blackmail us. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to blackmail a Compton. With him dead, this is all over.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes. I hate that you’ve been upset, and Claire, you have to promise me if something happens in the future you will tell me immediately. But there’s nothing more to be concerned about. We can move forward with the rehearsal tonight, and with the wedding tomorrow. We’ll work out something with your dress, and it’s all going to be fine, darling. I promise. All the craziness is over. Are you feeling up to the brunch?”

  “Of course. But I almost forgot. What happened with the cottages, and the remains they found? Is that why you went out there with Elliot?”

  I pretend not to notice his body stiffen beside me.

  “The remains...” He sighs, looking at the ceiling. I sense he’s struggling with something. “It looks like it might be a former member of our staff. Her name is Elevana. Fatima’s mother. She went missing...gosh, it must be twenty years ago? Her family thought she’d left to go to the mainland, and something happened to her there, but now it looks like she never made it off the island. She must have fallen down the cliffside path. I heard them say her skull was cracked. I know it’s awful, but at least her family has answers now.”