Anami Enterprises
Battery Park City
Grace took the elevator up to the 60th floor, where her husband had his office. The ride was short and swift; the motion made her stomach lurch as the numbers ticked away on the electronic display panel. She placed her fingertips against her temples, trying to massage away the tension headache that pulsed with her blood. It didn't work.
A faint beep sounded at her destination, and she slowly stepped out of the lift and into the elegant foyer. Her high heels echoed on the marble floor, and she realized that the place was deserted. She looked at her watch and saw that it was 6pm.
In the distance she heard "Winter" from Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons," and she searched for the source. As she walked further into the labyrinth of rooms and halls, she heard the soft murmurs of male voices. A moment later, she saw two men standing in a long corridor. Neither of them saw her. Grace recognized the wide breadth of David's shoulders from behind. He was talking to a male assistant. She approached slowly, hoping to overhear the conversation.
"I want the jet to be ready to fly within the hour. No exceptions. As soon as you can, call Liam and let him know that tomorrow I'm going to call him from the Savoy when he's hopefully finished with his out-of-town assignment. Don't forget to do this; it's very important. I'll get back to you once I reach London."
"Yes, Mr. Anami."
The assistant hurried away, and finally Grace was alone with him. She cleared her throat, causing David to turn around. At the sight of her, his eyes held a mixture of affectionate warmth for his wife and an overall wariness of the personal strain that they've been under.
"Darling, what a surprise."
Grace drew closer to him, allowing him to see the hurt in her eyes.
"Why are you leaving, and why didn't you tell me?"
David sighed. "Something came up, and I didn't think that we were exactly on speaking terms these days."
She reached out and touched his arm, and he briefly stiffened at the contact before relaxing. "We really need to talk, David. This week has been sheer hell for me, and by the looks of it, you haven't been faring any better."
He took a deep breath before releasing it. "Grace, can it wait until I get back? I'm actually expecting a call any minute for the..."
Grace interrupted him, her eyes hot with frustration and anger. It was as if the many emotions that she'd experienced over the past week had come together to form a huge tidal wave, a force of nature that could not be reasoned with or prevented from crashing over whatever lay in its path. She dropped her hand from his arm as she spoke, balling it into a fist at her side.
"No, it cannot wait! In case you've forgotten, David, I am your wife. I think that I deserve a few minutes of your time."
He stared at her, his rugged features frozen with surprise. He hadn't expected her to react in such a way. In fact, it was the very first time that he'd seen his wife so visibly upset.
"Forgive me, Grace. Of course we can talk. Let's go to my office where we can sit down."
David pulled her close to him, wrapping his arm around her and letting his hand rest on the small of her back as they walked together. Grace had a thought to pull away, but the gesture was so familiar that instead she wanted to cry where she stood.
He led her into his spacious office and into a luxurious wing chair. He sat in another chair across from her, and she watched him move. David was usually so sure in his movements, so confident. But when she watched him now, she saw the slight tremble in his hands and the anxiety in his eyes as he cast brief glances at her, waiting for her to speak.
What is he so afraid of?
"What are you running from, David? Are you trying to escape everything that's going on because of Cooper's death, or just me?"
David's mouth fell open in shock, and he leaned forward in his chair.
"What do you know about Cooper's death?"
Grace concentrated on keeping her voice steady as she met his eyes.
"Most of what I know, I've learned from the news reports. I need to hear the rest from you."
Realization dawned in his eyes, and he left his chair to kneel before her.
"You found the shirt. Where is it?"
Her nails dug into the soft leather of the chair, the fear rising within her. She wasn't really afraid of David, but she wasn't sure if she could handle what she was about to hear. Deep down, she knew that she should have been a lot more afraid than she was.
"First I want to know what happened that night."
David placed his hands on her waist, his eyes pleading with her for understanding. Grace stared down at him, wondering at his desperation. She did not know how to react to it; the part of her that was the supportive wife urged her to take him into her arms and comfort him. Yet there was another part, bitter and confused, that felt vindicated by his distress.
She searched within herself for the reason why, and came up with nothing but the sense that in all the years that she'd been married to him, the balance of power had always been in his favor. He had all the money, the influence, and their almost twenty-year age difference had given him an even greater advantage over her.
The corners of her lips twitched as she fought an evil urge to smile at his plight.
Well, the tables are definitely turned now, aren't they? Oh, god. What is wrong with me? Stop it, stop it, stop it!
She squeezed her eyes shut, driving away the cruelty of her thoughts. She looked again at her husband and reached out to him, cupping his face in her hand. He sighed at her touch, his eyes shining with gratitude. She raised his chin as she leaned down, bringing their faces close together.
"Tell me."
David swallowed hard. "The night that Cooper was killed, he was trying to start a coup so he could take over the company. The shareholders told Liam about what Cooper was planning, and Liam informed me. I sought out Cooper after he left the building, Grace. I had it out with him. He was such a vile, underhanded and bigoted son-of-a-bitch. I hit him, love. I couldn't control myself. He went too far, and I thrashed him so very badly..."
Grace's throat constricted as he trailed off, and she caressed his face.
"Did you kill him, David? Please, I need to know."
His eyes reminded Grace of the gray hue of clouds before a storm. They were bottomless pools of despair, and for the life of her she could not read them.
A muscle jumped in his jaw as he spoke, his gaze piercing her. Despite the cool and controlled tone that he used, his voice made her imagine an erupting volcano, with anger exploding in all directions.
"No, I didn't kill him. I left the scene immediately after I attacked him, and when I returned a few minutes later to try and apologize so he wouldn't sue the living shit out of us and reduce us to the poorhouse, he was already dead! Christ, Grace! You can't imagine what it's like to see such horrors before your eyes! He was no longer recognizable as human, and you believe that I am capable of such an act?"
He whirled away from her, rising from the floor and striding angrily towards his massive desk and the window beyond. He stood with his back to her, one arm braced against the cool glass and covering his mouth with his other hand. His shoulders shook with remembered terror, as well as from the betrayal that he felt concerning his wife.