An arm wrapped around my shoulders and I glanced at Gray. His face was a mask of pity but it wasn’t genuine. He’d never really loved anyone; I doubted he truly loved me but I made a nice piece of arm candy and I was intelligent so that was considered a nice bonus.
My voice cracked when I opened my mouth to ask a question but something about the way Mr. Krieger continued to stare at me felt incredibly disarming and not in a good way. I wanted to hate this man who must have been involved with my sister’s death but he was very good looking and possessed a certain je ne sais quoi…for a freak.
“I think it is time I took my fiancée home. It’s been a long night and no doubt this news has really affected her.” Gray handed a starched white business card to Mr. Krieger. “Have your attorney contact ours and we can go over setting up a time and date to have someone pick up Ms. DeMarche’s items she left for her sister, is that okay with you?”
Rory’s look of anguish—complete and genuine in his case which made my conflicted feelings about him soften though only slightly—changed. His face transformed into a mask of extremely controlled anger as one of his elegant dark eyebrows arched arrogantly.
“I’m afraid that isn’t possible. The moment I found out about Trésor, I called my real estate agent and placed the apartment on the market. I can’t live there anymore and my personal effects have already been moved from the residence. We have prospective clients coming by to see the place tomorrow so I would have to accompany Ms. Segler-DeMarche back there tonight. She can fetch her sister’s belongings and I will have my driver deliver her to your home,” he explained in a cold detached manner.
“Where are you staying?” I inquired though it was none of my business.
“The Waldorf Astoria as my family has a permanent suite there at their disposal.”
Naturally, I thought.
Gray leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I’m not comfortable with you going off with him. I’ve heard things about him from my brother and he isn’t to be trusted.”
“You heard the police,” I whispered back. “He wasn’t in the country when Trésor was murdered. Her stuff is all I have, goddamn it. I will be back before you know it.”
He smiled, his blue eyes glazed over as if he were thinking about other issues. “Hurry back.”
Gray kissed my cheek, stood and left the room without a word.
The large impersonal box known as O’Neill and Wozniak’s office seemed to close in around me and I suddenly felt claustrophobic and disoriented. My breathing had sped up slightly and I didn’t really like being here trapped with these three men, regardless whether two of them were NYPD Detectives or not.
O’Neill leaned over and gave me his business card. “If you have any questions or concerns, please give us a call at that number. In the meantime, we will try to get this taken care of as quietly and discretely as possible. Your sister’s body will be returned to the family when the medical examiner has ruled out any issues of foul play.”
“I thought…you said it was a cut and dry suicide.”
“The inquiry was made by me,” Rory said out loud. I could hear a faint trace of a German accent beneath his impeccable English. “Trésor wasn’t suicidal and I still don’t buy she killed herself. She would have never done anything without my permission. She was committed to me.”
I laughed though it sounded inappropriate. “Did it ever occur to you perhaps suicide was the only way she thought she could get away from you?”
He smiled back but his expression matched his voice of pure ice. “I won’t try to explain a lifestyle to you that you will never understand living in your ultra vanilla world where everyone fucks with the lights out in missionary position…and the most adventurous sexual endeavor you’ve probably allowed yourself was giving your fiancé a blow job while you ran your finger up and down his perineum. For some of us, a life like that won’t do. Hell, it’s a fate worse than death.”
My face burned; I knew from the neck up, my crimson complexion acknowledged feelings of inadequacy and embarrassment, and I hated him at that particular moment.
He’d read me, read my fucking love life like an open book as if he had my journal open in front of him.
My sex life with Gray was basic and boring but in our own way, we were fond of one another and willing to make a life together though there wasn’t any real love there. We were a power couple in the making. I was an ambitious reporter with ties to a very old French family who could trace a partial amount of my lineage back to the aristocracy that wasn’t beheaded. Grayson, a man who came from one of the oldest American families in existence, had a bright future ahead of him and someone any woman would be proud to show off to her friends and family. They could trace their journey over on the Mayflower from Scotland on his father’s side and his mother was a mixture of French, German and Welsh, though both sides of the family had been in the country for over two hundred years.
It was true, we didn’t have a wild and crazy time with one another and although we didn’t always have sex in missionary position, neither one of us could be called adventurous or “out there” when it came to matters of sex or the heart. We both played it safe and that was okay. We understood one another and that would hold a marriage together a lot longer than feelings of extreme love and warmth.
“You’re blushing, Ms. Segler-DeMarche,” Rory began as if we were the only two people in the room. “If you would like to pick up your sister’s belongings, we really should be on our way.”
I tried to smile but my face fell short.
I was tired, hungry as I hadn’t matched my food intake with my alcohol consumption and I only looked forward to a comfortable bed.
“Yes, I think that would be best.”