Deception (Infidelity #3)(80)

“Why do you act surprised?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Surely the man who put that ring on your finger tells you that daily? He’d be a fool not to see the gem that he has.”

She didn’t respond, not directly. Adelaide Montague wasn’t the type of woman to bask in flattery. Instead, she asked about me, and what brought me to the event this evening. She spoke in earnest, genuinely interested in someone like me. Before I knew it, I was talking about things I’d only previously thought. I explained that this was my first Christmas as a single man in over twenty years. I talked about the solitude of my New York apartment and how I’d miss spending Christmas morning with my son.

I’d never spoken those words aloud. Yet in the presence of a woman completely out of my league, I babbled on and on. Our conversation wasn’t one-sided. It was back and forth as Adelaide too contributed to the discussion. She spoke about her daughter, Alexandria, and how much she’d grown. At ten years old, she was becoming a young lady, not the small girl she used to be.

We laughed about our children’s stubbornness. It was a trait I’d never before valued in Lennox that suddenly seemed humorous as she told the tale of Alexandria and a pair of shears. Apparently after an afternoon of refusing a haircut, her daughter had taken it upon herself to create her own style. The result was something so outrageous that Adelaide claimed to have not seen it herself. Instead, a beautician was summoned and now her daughter had a flattering but short hairstyle.

Topics came and went as we chatted. It wasn’t until a woman approached and whispered something in Adelaide’s ear that I saw the sadness that had been with her earlier return. For a time, she’d been happy. I knew it wasn’t just wishful thinking but fact.

Her momentary joy blended with the lavender and jasmine settled into my senses. The intoxicating concoction invigorated me in a way that I hadn’t felt in years.

With a return of Adelaide’s sadness, the chasm inside of me widened. Though I’d been harboring the void for years, I’d never realized its profound depth until for a brief moment in time it was gone. The money and success. The approval and adoration. All that I’d worked my life to achieve would never fill the emptiness. I knew that now, because for an hour it had been gone.

Turning from the woman back to me, Adelaide was now a shell of the vibrant lady with whom I’d been speaking. Even the melody of her voice had changed, now melancholy and mechanical. “It was a pleasure meeting you,” she said. “Thank you for talking to me.”

How this lovely lady could thank me was incomprehensible. “Thank you, Adelaide. The pleasure was all mine.”

“Fitzgerald,” she added, as if I didn’t know. “Mrs. Alton Fitzgerald. I must really get back to my husband.”

Though her spirit had been taken by the words of the other woman, the departure of her being left me chilled and alone.

For the rest of the evening, every now and then, I’d chance a glance in her direction. Never again did our eyes meet. She was consumed with her task at hand. Never again did she falter as she portrayed the attentive and dutiful wife at her husband’s side.

I recalled the relief I’d felt when I’d heard she remarried. After all, even Collins himself had known they weren’t meant to be together. But as I watched Adelaide with Alton Fitzgerald, I looked for anything to indicate that she was better off with him than alone.

I found nothing.





IT WASN’T MY place to intrude in her life.

Throughout my marriage I’d occasionally found solace in the arms of other women, but none of them had been married. Then again, I had been. In the eyes of the church a sin was a sin, yet somehow I’d justified it as warranted.

Adelaide Fitzgerald was different.

For the first time, I wanted another man’s wife.

The desire consumed me.

I knew that for me, hell was imminent. My list of sins was not limited to adultery. I fought against the chance of bringing Adelaide with me to the fiery pits… and then I justified my need. Instead of me dragging her to the depths of hell, I saw her as an angel, perhaps capable of granting me salvation on earth before my destiny commenced.

Achieving my deliverance wasn’t easy.

She lived in a fortress. Literally.

It was Vincent’s favor from two years ago that proved my way in. The cameras that Charles Montague had commissioned were still operational. He’d since passed away and the contract with Demetri’s surveillance company no longer existed, but the cameras were still there.

I wasn’t a wizard at technology. Finances were my forte, but I knew enough. I could watch from afar and see that Alton Fitzgerald traveled, often leaving his wife and stepdaughter alone with a multitude of servants. Though the cameras were throughout the house, I respected Adelaide too much to intrude. I simply used the information from the downstairs rooms as a way to gauge my approach.

Our first chance meeting came the following spring, during one of her husband’s trips. I flew to Savannah, making it a point that our paths would cross.

I wanted to see her, to look into her eyes and see the fire that I’d felt when I first held her hand.

After that, the next move was up to her. Absolution was granted not taken. It was my angel’s choice if she’d give it to me.

I’d sat across the table from some of the most dangerous men in the country, perhaps the world. I’d watched other men take their last breaths. I’d secured deals that were nefarious at best. And never had I been as nervous as I was waiting at a table in the restaurant that I knew she frequented.