Wishing Well(60)
“Why did that matter?”
“I was saving lives,” Vincent admitted, his voice hollow, empty. “After Penny’s death, Maurice was devastated-“
“Because he killed the woman he loved?”
Meeting her stare once again, Vincent grinned, the expression tight. Meadow believed he’d forced the stretch of his lips, that it was a poor attempt to disguise his true feelings. “Why would you say he killed her when I’m the one being put to death for it?” The corner of his mouth crooked, a challenge issued in the slight grin.
Cornered by the question, Meadow dropped the subject, “So, you had an attorney seeing to Maurice’s care. What happened? He was young. Healthy in a physical sense. Was it an illness that killed him?”
A flash of guilt, of secrets and regrets, his eyes shadowing over before he admitted, “Maurice killed himself. He was found swinging from a noose he’d fashioned and hung in the room he’d demanded be designed to look like our childhood home.”
True pain shot through Meadow’s chest, the heart-wrenching impact of it stunning her into silence. Vincent watched her reaction with curious eyes before clearing his throat and changing the subject. “We should get back to the story. Time continues to tick by.”
Shaking herself of the agony she felt to learn Maurice’s fate, fighting the tears that threatened her eyes, she could barely speak with a steady voice. “Yes, we should. I guess at this point I’d like you to explain why, even after tossing Penny to Maurice, you continued to pursue her. I’ve given it some thought since what you admitted to me yesterday and the only reason I can fathom is that it had to do with the bet.”
Canting his head from side to side, Vincent stretched the muscles of his neck. “Do you honestly believe money is my only concern? Even after what I’ve already told you?”
“What else could it be? You obviously cared very little for Penny. She was a woman you were toying with since the beginning. And although I believe you truly loved your brother, I don’t think you loved him enough to stay away from a woman he wanted to be his. Unless of course,” she surmised, tapping her fingers against the table, “you really did have feelings for Penny. Did it bother you that she cut of the sexual relationship she had with you after you demanded she have the same type of relationship with Maurice? Is that why you forced her?”
Soft laughter shook his broad shoulders. “I never told her to fuck Maurice.”
“You implied it. By sending her down there - alone - you knew he would take what he wanted.”
Vincent relaxed back into his seat. “You’ve neglected to focus on an important detail in what we’ve explored so far.”
“And that is?” Her fingers stopped their rhythm, the room growing quiet.
Giving her question time to linger, Vincent finally parted his lips to answer, “Whereas Maurice had sex with Penelope as soon as he had the opportunity, there was one part of her that was mine.”
It was Meadow’s turn to laugh. “Please tell me you don’t mean her heart.”
His snide grin returned. “No, of course not. I’m not sure that belonged to anybody but herself. Penelope was rather fickle. The part of her that belonged to me was her mouth. I’m the one who kissed her. It was my cock she wrapped those pretty lips around. In that way, I took the most intimate part of her, despite what Maurice had done. No matter how many times she spread her legs for my brother, those lips would always be mine.”
Oh, how Meadow wanted to skip ahead, wanted to strike out at him to leave a deep scar, but with a calm professionalism, she took a breath and held those secrets to herself. Reminding herself less than twenty-four hours remained for her to crush the arrogance of this evil man, she threaded her fingers together over the surface of the table.
Leaning forward, Vincent stared at Meadow as if he were holding her feet over a fire. She didn’t like the feeling that all he had to do was loosen his fingers and drop her down to burn.
“And how curious is that? Don’t you think? Penelope was a rebellious girl. She had you and your mother she could run to and avoid ending up back on the streets, but she stayed at Wishing Well even when demands were made of her that she didn’t like. Even when she was forced to participate. Perhaps the answer to that odd question was written in the diary you have? Perhaps it’s trapped inside your head? For once, you might know something that I don’t, so as usual in this game we’re playing, I’ll give you my perspective if you’ll give me hers.”
“Fine,” Meadow agreed. “We’ll continue this dance. Now, start talking.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Vincent
“I’m not hurt,” Penelope spat as she moved past me, her body moving quickly to escape down the employee hall. Cocking a brow, I watched her until she’d rounded a corner, and then I let myself into the elevator, typing in the code to ride down to the basement and speak with my brother.
While Penelope had been away cooling off the prior evening, I’d taken Maurice his dinner. It was a surprise to find him in a good mood, his demeanor not quite, but almost normal. We’d talked of what occurred when Penelope brought him lunch, and oddly he’d left out most of the sordid details. I’d found the exclusion of pertinent information strange for a man who normally treated women like objects used to get off.