Wicked Liar by Faith Summers

Chapter Seven

Candace

I’m almost ready for my date with Jacques.

I've painted my lips blood red and I’ve drawn attention to my eyes with smoky eye make-up. Instead of my trademark braid, I have my long blond hair down in loose graceful waves hanging over my shoulders.

I’ve chosen a little black dress that most would consider modest for the halter neck. What makes it sexy is me.

I have one of those shapes that border between willowy and curvy, although the only thing I do is a jog in the evenings. That’s it, and all I’ve always done yet I look like I spend hours in the gym.

I look good tonight. I just don’t feel it. How can I when I’m so dressed up to go on a date with a man who isn’t even my type? And I’m tired. I didn’t sleep last night. I kept thinking about Dominic, and what he was going to say to me.

It didn't help that my attempt to go to work and carry on as normal was an absolute disaster. I just couldn’t get in the right headspace and ended up heading home before lunch.

It's just gone seven and I'm still thinking about Dominic when I should be focused on Jacques. Dinner is at eight-thirty. This evening is too important to me to screw it up with thoughts of a man who was never really mine. Tonight is my chance to take those initial steps to get closer to Jacques. So, what I need to do is get my damn act together and focus.

Focus, focus, focus.

I walk over to my desk and take out a file I copied from work with Jacques' records. This was what put me on this path.

One of my jobs is to help run the background checks on clients. Everything about Jacques came back legit. Except for a deposit of twenty million dollars into his personal account from a company called Green Ltd. I'm supposed to verify transactions like that. Further checks took me to a man called Richard Fenmoir.

That name was one that was given to me months before that when I hired Gibbs Mackenzie to look into my parents' murder. Gibbs is one of those off the charts private investigators who works for Claudius Morientz, a powerful mafia boss in Chicago who is now part of the newly formed Syndicate. Gibbs is popular amongst mafia bosses in the alliance because of his unorthodox methods that usually enable him to find anything on a person.

Massimo uses him to run checks on the clients he's interested in doing long-term business with.

Gibbs was one avenue I never had when Giacomo D'Agostino did his previous investigation. So I thought he would be able to help me.

The man who killed my parents had to be linked to that job Uncle Lucas got my father. But because the job was obviously one of those secret, shady as fuck jobs only a devil like Uncle Lucas could come up with, I didn't know what the job was or where Papa worked.

I didn't know where to start but Gibbs was able to find five names. Four were names associated with gardening companies that Giacomo already checked out. Richard Fenmoir was the last. A name I'd never had before. The problem was, apart from the name, Gibbs couldn't find anything more on Richard. Nothing at all.

Gibbs said when that happens, it's obvious the name is being concealed for some reason. Like someone who joined the witness protection program, or someone who just wants to be off the grid. Something in my heart made me want to look deeper, but with nothing more to find, Gibbs couldn't help me anymore.

I couldn't have been more shocked when the name turned up in relation to Jacques. The kick with that was when Gibbs did further checks he discovered the account was closed and had no details. While he agreed it was one hell of a coincidence and suspicious as fuck, he said he came across things like that all the time.

All I was left with is the fact Jacques Belmont got a deposit of twenty million dollars from a company linked to a man I suspect was involved with my parents' deaths.

I suspect it but I have no evidence, just that feeling in my heart.

I don't even know if Richard Fenmoir is the right person to go after, but I'm desperate.

The worst part is I can’t tell anybody what I’m up to because I don’t want to ruin the business relationship Massimo has with Jacques.

Definitely not when all I have at this point are assumptions. I couldn’t do that to Massimo.

When Jacques came on the scene a few months back he wasn’t just interested in being a client of D’Agostino, Inc. He wanted to be part of the Syndicate too. Of all the people who approached Massimo to join the infamous secret society, he considered Jacques’ request and is currently considering initiating him.

I don’t miss a beat. Massimo is no fool. He wouldn’t have just decided something like that without really thinking about it, and he wouldn’t contemplate allowing any old person to join the Syndicate either. It’s a big deal, so I can’t fuck things up between them.

I don’t know what capacity Jacques might know Richard, but I think it’s reasonable to assume a deposit of twenty million dollars into a personal account is not going to come from some random person and for no reason at all.

My plan feels like selling my soul to the devil, but Jacques is the first link I’ve had in thirteen years. I don’t think I could go through the rest of my life knowing I had a chance to find answers and never took it.

All I have to remember is that night when I lost my parents. I can still hear my father pleading for my life and my mother’s. He never asked once to spare his own. I can still hear my mother’s screams of pain and terror.

I can still see them, dead…

That’s why doing whatever I have to is worth it, even if I find nothing and I’m wrong.

I walk over to my closet to get the purse that matches the dress and my Prada heels. I've already packed what I need. Jacques sent over the address for his restaurant first thing this morning. It’s his five Michelin starred award-winning French restaurant in Bel Air. An obvious tactic to win me over, and a display of his wealth. The poor bastard wouldn’t realize that those things mean nothing to me.

My doorbell rings suddenly and I nearly jump out of my skin. A frown knits my brows and I pray that’s not him. He shouldn’t know my address, but he’s the kind of man who would pry in such a way.

Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I leave my room to answer the door. One look through the peephole and my back goes ramrod straight when I see Dominic standing on the other side.

He shouldn’t be able to see me, but he’s looking directly at the peephole like he can.

I step back and wait, watching the door like it can decide for me on whether or not I should let him in.

I can't believe I'm even asking myself such questions.

This is Dominic. A guy I still consider as the boy I loved.

Yes, I’m angry with him, but don’t I want to know what he has to say?

After all these years don’t I want to talk to him, and in the privacy of my own home?

I’ve always been in someone else’s home. This is mine, and we aren’t at the office with everybody watching us.

What am I afraid of?

More pain?

Something more to hurt me? Like… hearing what he might have gotten up to while he was away?

He’s Dominic D’Agostino and while Massimo and Tristan are the level-headed men they are now they never used to be like that, neither was he. A snap of a finger would send the entire female population running after them, any woman with eyes eager to be on their arm.

Do I truly think Dominic just focused on getting better while he was away and hadn’t been with a woman in two years?

Do I want to hear him say that?

When I really think about it wasn’t just him leaving that has me worked up. It’s all of it.

Growing up, it was always me watching him. It was always me trying to get him to notice me. I almost feel like the easy target because just before we got together, he seemed to only need me when he wanted something. Then there was always the matter of being the help. I had to endure watching him with one gorgeous woman after another. Models, socialites, anybody considered beautiful. Then there was just me. The weird girl with her cookies his father took pity on when she lost her parents. There was never a time when I felt like I was good enough to be with him.

In the run up to his departure, I suspected he was on drugs. I never said anything to anyone because I didn’t want to get it wrong or worse, allow myself to think that it was only the times when he was high off his face that he was interested in me. It made me feel foolish.

Too many minutes go by and I’m still frozen to the spot.

A sound that makes me think he’s pressed his hand against the door’s surface interrupts my thoughts.

It’s not until I see the tip of a piece of paper slide under the door that I move again.

At first, I think it’s another note. Then I see it’s not. It’s a little origami angel, like the ones he used to make me when I was the little girl who played with the boys in the meadow.

I lower to pick it up, and something softens in my heart as I look at it.

The last time he made one of these for me was when we first got together. Two years ago, we were in the usual danger and he was in trouble. I don’t even think he knew how badly the drugs had gotten to him. We were on Tristan’s island in the Bahamas.

Dominic made me an angel, then he kissed me. It was such a random act because we weren't doing anything but sitting in the kitchen talking. I was worried about him, and I think he could see it. He hadn't made one of those angels for me in many years. When he did and kissed me, it changed everything.

Remembering that kiss opens my heart to other memories of him making me little angels to calm me down when I had nightmares of my parents' deaths. Those were the first steps to bringing me back from the shadows.

It's those memories that make me open the door, meeting his uneasy gaze. We stare at each other for a few seconds, then he looks me over, taking in my hair, my dress, and my fully made-up face.

“You look good,” he says.

“Thank you.”

“Can I come in?” He waves his hand toward the door, and I step aside, allowing him entry.

As he walks in, the crackle of energy that comes in with him makes my body come alive with heat. Heat that washes over me, starting from the top of my head, working its way down to the tips of my toes.

Swallowing against the lump in my throat, I close the door.

“Didn’t realize you still made these,” I state, holding up the angel.

“Not all the time.” He looks around the room, then turns back to face me. “Nice place, suits you.”

“Thanks. What do you want?”

Although my voice is meek and cautious, it pushes against the awkward silence threatening to fill the space between us.

“I wanted to see you, Candace. To apologize.”

“Oh?”

“I’m sorry for all that happened. Everything. I don’t expect you to accept my apology, but I’m saying it anyway, whether it matters or not.”

There’s so much I have to say to him. A lot of it would make him feel worse, then make me feel bad, or like I was being a bitch for refusing to understand what he was going through.

There’s so much I feel I need to get off my chest, but when I really think about it all, none of my concerns matter. He’s here to apologize, and that’s it.

He’s not asking for another chance, and I’m not even contemplating such a thing.

He’s not here to tell me he wants me back and since I have to focus on my life, nothing I have to say from the myriad of shit racing through my mind will matter. Even if my stupid heart insists on holding on to him, it doesn’t matter. This visit is just closure, maybe for both of us.

“Okay,” I say, and his jaw tightens and squares.

He’ll know things aren’t okay between us. The slaps to his cheeks yesterday spoke more than anything I’ve said tonight. There's nothing more we can say to each other that won't cause an argument or more hurt.

“Okay…” His lips press into a thin line of displeasure, but he nods acceptance. “Enjoy your date.”

Date…

That throws me, but I don’t allow him to see. I guess he did hear me talking to Jacques after all.

While he looks like he came for a longer talk than the two minutes we’ve spent, he walks out, leaving.

I stare at the empty trail he leaves behind for far too long, then at the angel in my hands, trying to figure out where I’m supposed to go from here.

This is it. That was it. The end of us, and it should be so. Dominic told me not to wait and his note was very clear about what we weren’t anymore.

Not together.

That’s the part I have to work with and accept that Dominic and I were never meant to be.