Manhattan's Most Scandalous Reunion by Dani Collins, Caitlin Crews

CHAPTER TEN

HERVISIONWASso blurred by the onset of tears that she tripped over their suitcases, still in the foyer.

She cursed loudly and bitterly as she went down. The floor jarred her palm and her knee crashed onto the stone tiles. For a brief second, she sat there stunned by the lightning-sharp agony of her fall as it outshone the despair overwhelming her.

Reve lurched in behind her. “What happened? Are you okay?” He swore when he saw her trying to pick herself up amid their tumbled bags. “That’s my fault. I told him to leave them there.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

When he tried to help her, she recoiled, unable to let him touch her right now. She would fall apart for sure.

A grim silence formed around him as he picked up both their bags and started up the stairs.

She followed to the master bedroom, afraid to so much as thank him because she was on the brink of a breakdown.

Before she had properly taken in the luxurious room in cream and moss tones, Reve slipped around her and walked out—with his own case in his hand.

Reve. His name stayed locked in her throat, hot and sharp. He wouldn’t even sleep with her.

Biting her lip, she took slow, deliberate breaths, telling herself she would wait until she was in the tub, but agony was gushing upward within her, filling her with greater and greater swathes of misery. She was sniffling and gasping, going through the motions of opening the taps and waiting for the water to warm, trying not to hate herself for being honest with him. She only wished—

Reve walked in.

“Do you ever knock?” she cried, and swiped guiltily at her wet cheeks. Through her dejection, a streak of hope flashed to life.

His hard expression became even more severe. He moved around her to turn off the water. “I have to show you something.”

His voice was grim, and her blood went cold in her veins.

Dread became a heavy boulder atop the emotions that were sitting under the surface of her control. Leaving the drip of the tap behind, she followed him from the master bedroom to the end of the upper hall. His suitcase stood outside the door of a spare bedroom as far from the master as possible.

Okay, I get it. You regret ever meeting me.

He pointed into the room. “Look.”

She peered through the open doorway. It wasn’t a bedroom. It was a den with a sofa that she imagined pulled out into a bed. There were floor-to-ceiling shelves stuffed with books and board games and DVDs. In one corner sat a wooden desk with a globe and an old-fashioned-looking landline telephone. On the other wall, a television sat on a credenza. A gaming console was hooked up to it, and the controllers were on the coffee table.

“What?” She moved to glance out the window. It was the uphill view of the vineyard, pretty but nothing she hadn’t seen already.

“Look.” He followed her in and lifted the crocheted tablecloth that served as a doily on the credenza. “Twelve drawers. What do you want to bet these little cardholders once held labels that went A/B, C/D, E/F...?”

“Oh, my God.” She began yanking at the pulls, running the alphabet as she did. “K/L—They’re all locked.”

“It’s full, though.” He grabbed an end, and the tendons in his neck and arms strained as he tried to lift it. He gave it a push, but it was solid as a rock. “They haven’t painted behind it. This has been here for years.”

“You don’t think it holds the doctor’s records. Not here. Not still.”

“Why not? Say you’re a doctor traveling from Austria to treat private patients. Where would you store their records?”

“At the clinic.”

“Until they’re discharged, sure. After that, it’s risky to leave them there with staff and other patients coming and going. No sense dragging them back and forth to Austria. Maybe you get a couple of your burliest laborers to drag this behemoth up to your home office and store them here. When you die, no one bothers to clean it out because it’s locked and this is just a spare room where the kids play video games.”

“Where’s the key? On a keychain in Austria?” She moved to the desk and started rummaging through the drawers, finding only crayons and coloring books.

“Is there a letter opener?” Reve ran his hand around the edges of the credenza, then lifted the doily to expose the lock mechanism. “This will take about five seconds to pop.”

“We can’t break in.”

“What’s the difference between that and unlocking it with a key?”

“Good point. We should contact the family and ask for permission to search it. Otherwise, we might invade the privacy of living and dead celebrities.” She stared at the cabinet with equal measures of temptation and regret.

“That’s exactly why I think it still holds the doctor’s records. It’s a solid asset for a family to hold on to.”

“Reve! That is by far the most cynical thing you have ever said. We don’t know anything about this family. Do you really think they would keep something like this as an insurance policy? So they could bribe a dead doctor’s patients if they ran out of money?”

“Yes. Nina—” He stared at her as he gave his head a bemused shake. “The more I realize how naive you really are, the more I realize how badly I took advantage of you. This entire property is a laundry for the doctor’s side hustle with celebrity patients. Do you not see that?”

“You don’t know that. You’re just guessing.” As she said it, she felt the sting of truth. They were here because her birth had been covered up by this doctor. It stood to reason that more than one crime had been committed over the years. She folded her arms, saying defensively, “I like to give people the benefit of the doubt.”

“Me, for instance. I always thought you were blowing smoke when you complimented me, being sweet so I’d let you stay in my home. Turns out you’re actually that innocent and charming. I’m not.”

“What are you doing?” Nina asked as Reve moved into the hall to open his suitcase.

“Criming.” He found his nail clippers and clicked the file open like a jackknife. He would never be the kind of man she wanted or deserved, but at least he could help her unlock the secrets of her past. “If you prefer not to be implicated, I suggest you leave.”

He tried to slide the file into the mechanism and discovered it was seized from lack of use. Might need oil, so he crouched to see if he could slide the file along the crack and release the mechanism that way.

“How do you know how to do that?”

“Do you really want to know?”

She was still hugging herself, her shoulders hunched. “Yes.”

His chest felt constricted by coils of thick rope that were sliding and burning across his naked skin.

I don’t know what I want anymore.

She didn’t want him. He knew that much. She only thought she did because he’d hidden the worst of himself from her. It was time she understood why it was best they stop their involvement and part for good.

“I used to break into cars.”

“For money?”

“Kind of. I learned to do it at the junkyard where I grew up, so I could strip parts and sell them to local shops. Then a couple of men from those shops started asking me to break into cars on the street. They would say it was their uncle’s car or it belonged to a customer. When I was picked up by the police, I realized I was being used to take the initial risk. They stole them once the car was open. That’s when I learned that innocent people get used so it’s best to keep my eyes open.”

“How old were you?” she asked with astonishment.

“Eleven.” The nail file wasn’t strong enough to jimmy the latch. He went back to his bag for his lip balm and lubricated the file, returning to work on picking the lock. “While I was at middle school, I realized I could use the library computer to set up websites and sell parts that way.”

“That’s how you got started as an auto parts dealer.”

“That’s what my PR prints in my bio, yeah.” He wiggled the file in the lock, trying to work the waxiness of the lip balm against the pins so they’d move. “But stripping parts is sweaty, time-consuming work, and shipping them is a pain in the ass. I realized I could simply become a broker, match seller with buyer and take a cut of the transaction. Fill the site full of ads and make money that way, too.”

“I’m impressed that you thought to do that so young, but it doesn’t sound bad. Agents are allowed to take a cut for a service they offer.”

“The parts were hot, Nina. That sort of agent is called a fence.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened.

So naive. He had always thought that was an act, and now he saw how real her trust was. It made him sick that he had walked all over her, soaking up her softness and passion as if he had a right to it. That’s why this had to stop. He knew how mismatched they were and, he was realizing, she wasn’t tough enough to protect herself. Not against him. He had to do that for her.

“Are you still, um...?” Her brows were squiggled with perplexity as she tried to figure out if she had been sleeping with an active criminal all this time.

“I mostly stick to the rules these days, but that’s how I know a laundry when I see one. When my dad died, I was sixteen. I closed my site and used the money I’d made to buy a run-down repair shop in Detroit. If anyone asked, I said my inheritance paid for it, but my father hadn’t owned the land we squatted on. I left town owing for his cremation. I’m actually not much of a mechanic, but I knew how to get good parts for cheap, and that was most of my business.”

“Were the parts still hot?”

“Mostly aftermarket knockoffs unless it was a special case. I knew better than to push my luck.” He swore as the file started to turn, then stopped and needed more coaxing and wiggling. “Do you understand how embarrassed I am that this is taking so long?”

“You’re out of practice,” she said gently. “You haven’t done it in a long time.”

And there was the forgiving, accepting purity in her voice that was like a drug to him. It made a pang resound in his chest.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I’m doing it, Nina.”

He was still a street punk deep down. A sex tape stud who had benefited from the very notoriety he’d resented. His profits had tripled while he’d been making headlines and, much as he’d felt cheapened by the scandal, he’d also capitalized on it. He’d fought to get the tape taken down, but there’d been a part of him that figured he deserved that grim chapter of his life because of the kind of person he was.

Nina’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced at it. “My sister. She’ll want to know how things are going.” She walked toward the door. “Do you want me to get a butter knife?”

“No.” He wouldn’t corrupt her any more than he already had.

Angela told Nina there was a photo of Nina and Reve gaining traction online. Back when she’d been living with Reve, they’d gone for dinner and had been caught behind a tourist taking a selfie. Now the grainy image was being blown up in every possible way.

“All the headlines are saying it’s Oriel,” Angela said with concern. “Even my clients are starting to talk about how much you look like her. I don’t know how long I can pretend it’s all a coincidence.”

“I know. I’m sorry. This feels like a bomb going off in slow motion,” Nina said, distressed at the thought of Reve being freshly linked to Oriel.

She didn’t tell Angela what Reve was doing right now—or that Reve had basically broken up with her. Again. She finished the call and went into the bathroom to set a cool cloth over her eyes, trying to keep from tearing up with despair.

You want the kind of love you’ve always known.

She did. And she wanted that love with him. She was falling in love with him all over again—this time far more deeply because she knew him more intimately. He could throw his checkered past at her all he wanted, and it didn’t change the fact that he’d been playing human shield since she had run into his penthouse ten days ago. He could say he was only betting on a horse with his investment in her work, but he had removed any obstacles between her and her long-held dream.

She was prepared to compromise those things she had always wanted because a greater want was taking its place inside her: Reve. She wanted Reve in her life.

I won’t let you settle for less because we happen to be good in bed.

Was that all it was for him?

Did it matter what he felt? He’d been through a lot at the hands of others. He had told her no one had ever looked out for him. The last thing she wanted was to be as callous about consequences to him as everyone else seemed to have been. She knew he was trying to protect her from himself, but maybe she had to protect him from herself, too.

With gritty eyes and the deepest ache in her heart, she went back to the office and found him at the desk, files stacked before him. He had his laptop open and was using his phone to photograph documents. Drawers in the credenza were half-open.

Her heart leaped. “You got in?”

“Yes, but everything is in German.”

“Oh. Of course.” She moved to the sofa and dropped to sit, pretty much defeated by the weight of stress and problems surrounding her.

“I’m converting it to English through a translation app.”

“Oh?” She perked up. “Have you learned anything?”

“That stolen evidence is not admissible in court—or so my lawyer tells me. He absolutely, positively advises I do not make copies of anything I have found on these premises without the express permission of the owners. I told him to draft a request for permission, which I will forward to them the minute I’m done here.”

She gave a halfhearted laugh, struck by the sheer absurdity of this situation, then asked, “Do you want help?”

“I’ve got a system going. But listen, from what I’ve read so far...” He turned another page, clicked his phone over it. He glanced at the image, tapped, then looked to his laptop, where he tapped a few keys. “I don’t want to make any decisions for you that should be yours, but this has to be shared with the Dalal family. Your family got screwed, Nina. You did.”

That wasn’t news, yet her mouth began to tremble. “How?”

A click, a tap, a sharp glance.

“Take a minute to be sure. This will be difficult to hear.”

“I need to know, Reve. Tell me.”

Reve hesitated one more second, then tapped his laptop and read aloud, “‘Female presenting at twenty weeks.’ Lakshmi, when she first arrived,” he clarified. “‘Midwife suggests possible multiple pregnancy. Scan for confirmation declined.’”

“Declined by who?”

“Lakshmi’s manager, Gouresh Bakshi. He was running interference.” Reve tapped a few more keys. “She had sixteen weekly visits from the midwife, then, ‘Twin girls delivered on either side of midnight. Maternal distress, a transfusion...’ She doesn’t regain consciousness for a couple of days. While she was out it says, ‘Baby Monday placed as arranged.’ You should see Lakshmi’s signature on the documents.” He ruffled through the pages. “I’m no expert, but it’s a man’s handwriting.”

“Of course it is. She was unconscious! Is that really what they called us?” It was a good thing she was sitting down. She felt sick.

Reve’s expression softened. “I’m afraid so.” He tapped a file. “In this one, it says Baby Tuesday was placed with an American family. There’s also a confirmation for a wire transfer for a revoltingly high payment with a note that labels it ‘discretionary.’ The banking info ties into the other payments from Bakshi for Lakshmi’s care.”

“Oh, my God.” Nina buried her face in her hands.

“I know. Nina, I’m sorry.” He rose and came to crouch before her, taking her cold hands.

“Who does something so awful to a woman who is so vulnerable and—”

“You were all vulnerable. He did that to all three of you.”

“He just gave us away like p-puppies.”

Reve shifted onto the couch and drew her into his lap. Nina should have been cried out, but these tears were different. They were for Lakshmi and Oriel and herself. She was breaking into agonized pieces as she imagined her birth mother awakening and learning her babies were gone, gone, gone.

“I feel so robbed.”

“You were.” He was rubbing her back, setting kisses on her hair. “You all were.” He held her in strong, safe arms while she completely fell apart.

She wept until her eyes swelled shut and her whole body ached with grief.

“Nina.”

Reve’s raspy voice and the feel of his hand rubbing her arm dragged her awake.

She blinked eyes that felt like sandpaper and found herself in the den. Morning sunlight was beaming through the window. She had a blanket over her, a pillow tucked under her head.

“What—?”

“Farrah’s making breakfast. There’s a woman downstairs who wants to meet you.”

“Oriel?” Her heart leaped into her mouth. She sat up so fast Reve had to lean back to avoid her forehead crashing into his unshaved chin.

“No. But I got a message from my doorman in Paris. Oriel came looking for you there.”

Her head throbbed, and she couldn’t hear anything but the blood in her ears. She was disoriented. Her heart was seesawing in her chest. She grasped at Reve’s arm and he steadied her, but there was a stiffness to his touch, as though he was holding her off. The remoteness in his expression caused her unsteady heart to plummet into freefall.

Don’t, she wanted to cry, as everything came rushing back to her. Still, she couldn’t keep leaning on him. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

She drew her hands into her lap and tried to catch up to what he was saying.

“How did she know—?”

“There’s a photo of us online that people are saying is her. She must have tracked you to being with me.”

“Oh, I forgot,” she sighed. “Angela told me about that photo. I meant to tell you, but...” She looked to the credenza. All the drawers were safely closed, the tablecloth in place, and all the files were gone from the desk.

“I’ve booked a helicopter to take us to Paris as soon as we’ve eaten.”

She noticed he was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. “Have you slept?”

“No. Do you want come downstairs? This woman is married to the man who owns the café.”

“Oh. Yes. Okay.” She staggered down the hall to the master bedroom and made herself presentable.

When she came down, Reve was sipping a coffee at the windows. Farrah was gone and a woman of about fifty was on the sofa. There was a cup of coffee steaming on the table in front of her, but she had her hands clutched anxiously over her purse.

The air was so thick with tension it could have been sliced and fried.

The woman stood when Nina appeared. She searched Nina’s face as Nina offered a faint smile. “Hello.”

“I’m sorry to come here uninvited. I’m Inga Klein.” She offered her hand. “Your, um...” She looked to Reve. “Your friend left his card with my husband yesterday and said you were staying here. My husband thought he was a reporter. I’ve just explained that my father-in-law has dementia. He doesn’t have any information that would be helpful.”

“I see.” Nina looked to Reve, unsure if she should offer her real name. “I’m, um...”

“The other one,” Inga said with a sad nod of wonder. “You’re not Oriel Cuvier. I’ve been following her story very closely. As soon as my husband showed me the card last night, I knew you weren’t her. You’re the other one. Aren’t you?”

“You know?” Nina felt Reve’s hand take hold of her arm and ease her toward the sofa. Her knees felt like jelly.

“I didn’t know.” Inga sank back into her seat. “It was a suspicion that has haunted me for years.” Her gaze pleaded for understanding. “I was fifteen when I got a job as a maid, cleaning cottages for the rich people being treated at the clinic. It was impressed upon me that I could never talk about anything I heard or saw.”

Inga nervously clicked the clasp on her purse.

“I saw a lot of strange things. Eventually the Indian couple were just one more odd memory I locked away, but I’ve always wondered what happened to her. You look just like I remember her.” She sent an unsteady smile, then looked down again, growing somber. “They claimed to be married, but they fought constantly. Not in English. I only guessed that it was about her pregnancy. She cried when he wasn’t around.”

She clicked open her purse and darted her hand into it, bringing out a folded sheet of paper with scorched edges. She offered it.

“She wrote letters and threw them into the fire when he got home. I don’t know why I took this one. It has always tortured my conscience that I did, but once I had it, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. I think it’s to your father.”

Nina accepted it but was too upset to make head or tail of it.

“We can read it in a minute.” Reve gave her shoulder a bolstering squeeze. “Is there anything else you can tell us?”

“Only that I came to work one day and he said she’d gone into labor the night before. He said I should pack their things because they would leave from the clinic as soon as she was discharged. He went out and I don’t think he knew I was still there when he got back because I overheard him on the phone. He was speaking English and asked for Dr. Wagner. He asked if the woman who came in from the café had survived. Then he said, ‘That’s what we can do with the other one. Give it to her family. Tell them it was hers.’ He said, ‘Name your price.’”

Tears of remorse stood in Inga’s eyes.

“I’m very sorry. My English wasn’t very good. I thought I misunderstood. I was concerned about the mother, but no one connected to the clinic would tell me anything. When Oriel Cuvier began making headlines, I dug out the letter to see if there was a clue I’d missed. I’ve been trying to decide what to do with it. May I leave it with you?”

“Of course. Thank you,” Nina said in a daze.

They thanked Inga and took her information, then Reve read the letter to Nina. The sentences were cut off by the burned sections of pages, but it sounded as though her biological father had had a son who was sick and Lakshmi had understood his need to be there for the boy.

“‘...and when it’s time he insists I must give it up...’” Reve continued. “She’s referring to Bakshi, I imagine.”

“‘It...’” Nina repeated, latching on to the word. “Not them. She didn’t know she was having twins.”

“Doesn’t sound like it. The last line is ‘...know what else to do. I wish you were here to...’”

“She sounds so tortured—and also as if she loved him.” Her heart wrenched and twisted with bittersweet consolation. As she looked at the man she wanted and couldn’t have, she knew exactly how her mother had felt. Torn, helpless and devastated.

Reve slept through the helicopter flight to Paris and only noticed how quiet and withdrawn Nina was as they drove into the city.

“Okay?” He tried to still the fingers she was liable to twist right off her hands.

“Hmm? Oh. Yes. You didn’t have to come with me,” she murmured. “This is when we said we would part ways,” she reminded him with somber tension across her cheekbones. “I need to see her, Reve. I can’t put it off any longer.”

Her eyes said, Even for you.

“I know.” He’d had a lot of time to think last night while she’d slept and he’d copied records. The more he realized what she was up against, the less he was able to leave her to it. He was confident the family of Lakshmi Dalal would pursue justice, but the only reason Oriel was so well protected was because her adoptive parents were wealthy and was married to a VP of TecSec. Reve would like to believe they would help Nina navigate all of this, but he didn’t know that. He couldn’t walk away until he was sure Nina would be safe.

“I want to meet her with you. See how she reacts.”

“You know I’m too freaked-out to be brave, right?” She reached across and closed her clammy hand over his. “I know I should be saying I can do this alone, but...”

“I won’t let you.” He sandwiched her trembling fingers between his warm palms and directed the driver to Oriel’s building. As they approached, they saw a throng of paparazzi lingering around the entrance.

“Looks like she’s home,” Reve said. “Do you want to go in? Or call her from my place?”

“In.” She nodded convulsively.

They waited in the car while the driver went to the door.

As the driver rang the bell, the photographers began sniffing at the car’s tinted windows, trying to see inside. A man in a dark suit appeared. A bodyguard, if Reve had to guess. He took Reve’s card from the driver and glanced toward their car, nodding. He held the building’s entrance door open while the driver came back.

Nina’s hand tightened in Reve’s right before the car door opened.

They stepped out and the paparazzi went wild.