The Wife Who Knew Too Much(23)
July 4—two years earlier Nina stood with Hank Spears at the far end of the terrace. The party was in full swing—band playing under the stars, famous faces circulating in the crowd. The Fourth of July gala at Windswept was the event of the season in the Hamptons. They came by the hundreds to people-watch, to eat lavish food and drink vintage champagne. Most of all, they came for the house.
Windswept was a thirty-room brick-and-limestone Gatsby-era palace, set magnificently alone on a promontory that jutted into the sea. The grounds included ten acres of manicured lawns and gardens, an Olympic-size swimming pool, a pool house with bathrooms, and a glorious stretch of beach to roam in the moonlight. A security team had been brought in for the night, headed by Steve Kovacs, a private security consultant who’d worked for the Levitts regularly since Edward’s time. Steve’s team worked the perimeter, patrolling for crashers. Every year, people tried it. Paparazzi, nosy tourists, local hooligans on the prowl for free booze. Trespassers were turned over to the police.
Nina looked her best tonight. The Levitt emeralds glowed at her neck, setting off her black dress and porcelain skin. The sky was velvet, the fireworks an hour away. It should have been romantic. But, as Hank’s arm snaked along the balustrade behind her and made contact with her bare back, she flinched.
“What’s the matter? I did what you asked,” he said, his mouth petulant.
Hank was accustomed to getting his way. He’d been Edward’s right-hand man and was now CEO of Levitt Global, a position he’d long coveted and had ascended to on Edward’s death. He and Edward were polar opposites. Edward had been a visionary—magnetic, mercurial, creative, with blazing blue eyes. Hank was a company man through and through. Trim and self-contained, graying at the temples, in a perfectly tailored suit. Shareholders found Hank a reassuring presence during this time of transition. Nina had found him a reassuring presence, too, through the long, difficult years of her marriage. At every dinner party, every conference or foreign trip or important event, at the very moment she’d feel the lowest, Hank would turn up at her side. When Edward’s affairs hit the news, he’d claim the seat beside her at dinner and distract her with talk of the art world, or whatever topic came to mind. If Edward spoke harshly to her in front of other people, Hank would deflect the conversation, help her save face. She’d assumed that he did this for Edward’s benefit—or, really, for Levitt Global’s. Nina was a refined and sophisticated corporate first lady. She held up her end on charitable boards and in the art world. The Levitt marriage played well in the press. Any woman who came after her was unlikely to fit the job description, since Edward’s tastes ran toward “models” who’d never held modeling jobs and were young enough to be his granddaughters. Not that Nina had any standing to complain. There’d been a first Mrs. Levitt at the time Nina and Edward met, who’d received a lavish settlement, happily remarried, and eventually died of cancer. Nina’s guilt made her tolerant of Edward’s transgressions. She knew what she was getting into and accepted it as just deserts.
The point was, Nina had misunderstood the nature of Hank’s attentions. She thought he was looking out for the company, when actually he’d had feelings for her all along. She’d encouraged him more than she’d intended, just by leaning on him for support in her misery. She’d never dreamed he was seriously interested in her. Why would he be? Hank was married to Lauren Berman, the head of PR, who was not only a player in the company, but sultry and gorgeous—all dark hair, pouty lips, and curves.
After Edward died, Hank waited three months, then invited Nina to dinner. He told her that he was unhappy in his marriage and had loved her for years. She didn’t want to hurt him. Not only was he a good friend, but they worked together regularly. So, she told him it was too soon. That was a mistake. Hank responded by arranging for them to be thrown together in ever more intimate settings, with work as a pretext. Six months ago, they’d been at a conference in Aspen together. And she slipped. She was feeling so low—old and alone, sad that she’d never had children. They got drunk and ended up spending the night together. Nina had been backpedaling from it ever since. She simply didn’t have those feelings for him. After what Edward had done to her, she also felt legitimately guilty about sleeping with someone who was married, and leaned on that as her excuse. Hank took her at her word. Lauren and Hank were now in the middle of a bitter divorce battle, because Hank had left Lauren. For Nina. Without discussing it with Nina first. Which had made things extremely awkward at the office. Nina was now viewed as the other woman, a designation she loathed, and which was untrue. They had no ongoing romantic relationship. But nobody believed that—especially not Hank.
“Hank, I’m sorry. But I never asked you to leave Lauren. Never. You misunderstood me.”
“You said we couldn’t be together as long as I was married.”
She took his hands and looked into his eyes and was gutted to see the pain there.
“I said I wouldn’t get involved with a married man. I never said that I was ready for a relationship, or that I had those feelings for you.”
Anger flashed across his face. “I divorced my wife for you.”
He’d raised his voice. People were turning to look.
“You shouldn’t’ve done that without talking to me first.”
“You refused to talk about it while I was married.”