Page 121 of Reckless Love

Chapter Forty-Three

Stephen

In bed back at the house, I lay out the bones of my plan to Ava. What I don’t lay out are all the ways my plan could backfire, the risks to my safety and security.

The only important thing to me is that Ava gets out of her marriage. Her freedom comes before mine. Always.

The next morning, I leave before Ava’s awake. There’s just no way to be sure how today will turn out, and the thought of saying goodbye to her is too much. What I’m about to set in motion will either save us or condemn us both. Maybe at least save Ava. Hopefully Ava. But my fate is a complete unknown.

I know what damning information I have on Celia, but I can only guess what documents and misdeeds she’s kept on me.

I ring the bell to the Tucker mansion before I can lose my nerve. When I worked for Celia, I can’t even count the number of times I showed up here at all hours of the day and night, ready to serve her. As the first line of her offense and defense, I expect she wasn’t too happy when even she couldn’t locate me after I left the island. Owen kept his word that I’d never be found.

“If you’re here about Ava,” Celia says, and I notice the doorbell is lit up, “you’re knocking on the wrong door.”

“Am I?” I ask, letting false confidence take over. “I’d think you’d want to be a little more careful when speaking to me, Celia. I did a lot of things for a lot of years, and I wasn’t stupid enough to destroy all the evidence—even if I said I did.”

The door clicks unlocked, and I make my way through the house to the sitting room that overlooks the pool. It’s her favorite one for difficult conversations. The ocean view and the landscaped grounds scream wealth, even without the huge pool that no one ever seems to swim in.

“No butler? No maid?” I ask as I enter to find Celia standing at the coffee station, mixing her own drink.

“The maid is upstairs. I’m between butlers. Jonathan is also upstairs. We have somewhere to be today.”

“He’s busy with the maid, is he?”

She shoots me a sharp look, and I can’t help an internal smile. The blow landed. One of many things we both know and never say out loud—their one-sided open marriage that’s resulted in at least one illegitimate child that I know about. Maybe more. Covering up Jonathan’s mistakes probably requires a full-time employee to manage those claims. Though I wonder if that’s how she manipulated the DNA results. Perhaps she does it all the time. Ava and I weren’t the first victims.

“What do you want?” she snaps.

“I want whatever you’ve got on Raul Santos that’ll get Ava out of her marriage. But you’re smart enough to know that’s why I’ve come.”

She takes a sip of her coffee and eyes me without saying anything.

“The bullshit you fed Ava about staying out of her marriage? I’m not eating that.”

“If I wouldn’t help my own daughter, why would I help you?”

“Come on, Celia. Don’t play dumb. It’s not a good look on you.” With Celia, success means flattery. Of all the conversations I witnessed, the people who came out the best laid the flattery on thick. Not exactly the route I want to take, but you have to play to your audience. And realistically, she is smart. But she’s also cruel and controlling.

“Tell me what you have,” she demands.

“Nothing on Raul.”

“What you have on me.”

I let out a little laugh, and I shove my hands into the pockets of my most expensive suit. An armor of a sort that I put on this morning. Our playing field wasn’t level when she first hired me all those years ago, but I refuse to let it be uneven today. “Everything?” I suggest.

“Don’t play coy,” she says with a huff. “It can’t be everything.”

“It didn’t take me long to realize the deal I’d made with you. How badly it could go for me at some point. So I squirreled away information—dates, times, places, copies of documents, duplicates of pictures. Whatever I thought would convict you and leave me unscathed. If you really want a preview.” I hold up my hand and start counting off, “Insider trading, fraud, tampering with evidence, criminal solicitation, conspiracy to commit assault, tax—”

“So we’re at an impasse, then,” she cuts me off with a smirk. “You kept information on me, and I kept the same on you.”

“Not an impasse.” I go to the oversized windows, and I stare out at the rolling ocean. “You give me what I want, and I won’t fuck you over.”

She snorts. “Really? I’m supposed to trust you after you just admitted you’re untrustworthy.”

“Here’s the thing, Celia. You know what’s stopped me from turning anything I have over to the authorities?”