No. It was . . . The love of his life. The woman of his dreams. The one person he had vowed not to see again. An old friend of mine play- ing a trick on me.

Oh, thats funny. Beau chuckled. Well, you still want someone next Friday?

Ill get back to you. Thanks.

Edward ended the call and looked over his shoulder toward the sideboard by the door. Sure enough, the thousand dollars was still there, right where hed put it.

Oh . . . fuck, he whispered, closing his eyes.

A fter Gin hung up her phone" not with her brother, but with the person she had called after shed spoken with Lane" she sat in front of her vanity with her head in her hands for the longest time. All she kept thinking of was that she wished she could go back to the night before last, when shed been on the phone with that idiot from Samuel T.s law firm, stringing him along as people did her hair and brought her diamonds.

If only she hadnt taken the Phantom. That had been the domino that had started all the others to fall.

Then again, her father would still have been trying to maneuver her into marrying someone she hated, and he would still have been doing whatever he had been with the money, and Rosalinda would still have killed herself.

So actually, no, trying to escape through a reality rewind wouldnt really change anything.

Was fifty- three million dollars a lot of money? On one level, of course it was. It was more than most people saw in a lifetime, several lifetimes, a hundred lifetimes. But was that a blip on the radar for their family? Or a crater?

Or a Grand Canyon?

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She couldnt . . . she couldnt imagine a life of nine- to- five. Couldnt fathom budgeting. Saving. Denying.

And that was what had happened to one whole branch of the Bradford clan. Back in the late eighties, before the stock market crash, her mothers aunts people had bought into a bunch of bad technology and leveraged their Bradford stock to do it. When those investments had proven to be nothing but a black hole, they had ended up losing everything.

It was a cautionary tale that had been whispered about by the adults when theyd assumed the children hadnt been listening.

Getting to her feet, she let her silk robe fall to the ground and left the thing where it lay. In her wardrobe room, she walked around and looked at the hundreds of thousands of dollars in fashion, the brilliant swaths and tiny whimsies hanging from crystal holders that had scented tufted pads so that the shoulders of dresses and blouses did not lose shape.

She chose a red dress. Red for blood. For fighting. For the Charle- mont Eagles.

And for once, she wore a complete set of underwear.

She also ensured that her hair looked wonderful, making up in buoyancy and bounce what her mood was sorely lacking.

When the knock she had been waiting for finally hit her door, she was out in her bedroom proper, sitting at her dainty French desk.

Come in, she said.

As Richard Pford entered, his cologne preceded him, and Gin held on to the fact that at least he smelled good. The rest of him left her cold, however. Even though his pale blue suit was cut from the finest cloth and his bow tie was perfectly done, and in spite of the bowler in his hand and the handmade shoes on his feet, he was Ichabod Crane.

Then again, compared to Samuel T., even Joe Manganiello looked like he needed some work.

Let me make myself perfectly clear, she said as he shut them in together. I am not doing this for my father. At all. But I expect you to give the favorable terms to the Bradford Bourbon Company as the two of you discussed.

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23494.

That is my agreement with him.

Your agreement is with me now. She smoothed her hair. We will live here. This is what Amelia is used to, and there is a guest room next door to this suite.

That is acceptable.

I am prepared to act as your wife at all social engagements. If you indulge in affairs, and I expect you will, please keep them discreet"

I will not be having any extramarital affairs. His voice grew low.

And neither will you.

Gin shrugged. Given the way things were going, she didnt expect herself to find any male of any interest for quite some time.

Did you hear me, Gin. Richard came across to her and loomed.

You will not like what happens if you disrespect me in that regard.

Gin rolled her eyes. She had been double- crossing boyfriends for years and none of them had found out" unless shed wanted them to. If the mood struck her, she had no intention of denying herself.

Gin.

Yes, yes, fine. Wheres the ring?

Richard reached into his pocket and took out a dark blue velvet box.

As he opened it, the emerald- cut diamond inside flashed and sparkled.

At least he hadnt lied about that. It was enormous, on the Elizabeth Taylor scale.

I have already drafted the announcement, he said. My represen- tative will get it out to the press as soon as they hear back from me. The wedding will be as soon as possible.

She went to take the ring, but he snapped the lid closed. There is one other detail to iron out.

What is that?

He reached forward and touched her shoulder. I think you know.

And do not tell me to wait until the justice of the peace comes. I do not find that acceptable.

Gin burst out of the chair. I have no intention of sleeping with"

Richard grabbed her by the hair and yanked her against him. And I have no intention of buying a Ferrari just to look at it in my garage.

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Take your hands off me"

Intimacy is a sacred part of marriage. His eyes went to her lips.

And something I am prepared to enjoy"

Let go of me!

He began to drag her over to the bed. " even if you do not.

Richard! She punched at his shoulders, his chest. Richard, what are you doing" I dont want"

As he clamped his hand over her mouth and shoved her down, his smile was that of a predator. How did you know I like it rough? See, we are compatible, after all . . .

It was unfathomable what happened next. As much as she struggled, as thin as she had assumed he was, he got her skirting up and her pant- ies to the side"

He penetrated her on a hard shove.

A surge of nausea went through her, but she wasnt going to demean herself by showing any weakness in front of him. Focusing on the ceil- ing, she let him grunt and push into her, the burning sensation deep inside making her think of the color of her dress.

Halfway through it, she fisted up the duvet and winced.

Tell me you love me, Richard growled in her ear.

I will not"

Richard arched up and put his hand around her throat. As he squeezed, she began to gasp.

Tell me.

I will not!

Black rage narrowed his eyes and he switched grips, raising his right hand . . .

If you slap me, people will talk, she sneered. I wont be able to cover the stain up, and I have to go to the brunch. My absence will be noted.

His upper lip peeled back . . . but he dropped his hand. And fucked her so violently, the headboard slammed against the wall.

When he was through, he shoved himself off of her and tucked him- self away. I want you to change. Red is vulgar.

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I will not"

With a quick move, he grabbed the skirt and ripped it in two, right up the front. Then he jabbed his finger in her face. You show up in something else red and we shall have words. Test me if you wish.

Richard left, striding out and shutting the door with a declarative clap.

It was only then that Gin started to shake, her body trembling hard, particularly her open thighs. Sitting up, she felt a welling between her legs.

That was when she began to throw up.

She emptied her stomach into the ruined skirt" not that shed eaten much in the last twenty- four hours, anyway. Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, she felt her eyes sting, but she pulled herself back from that ledge.

In her mind, she heard her father telling her she was worthless.

That marrying Richard Pford was the only thing she would ever do for the family.

She wasnt doing it for the family.

As usual, she had made the decision in her own selfish interest.

After much introspection, she had come to acknowledge a funda- mental truth about herself: She couldnt survive in any other world. And Richard could give her this lifestyle she needed" even as her family might no longer be able to.

It was going to cost her, apparently . . . but she had lost her self- respect years ago.

To sacrifice her body at the altar of money?

Fine. She would do what she had to.

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23494.

THIRT Y.

I n retrospect, it was the very best day to play Hardy Boys with a computer at the Old Site.

As Lane parked Macks truck behind the two- hundred- year- old cabin and the various storage barns, there was no one around. No administra- tors. No floor workers. No one accepting deliveries of supplies. No tour- ists, either.

That coffee helped, Mack said as they both got out.

Good.

You want some of this PowerBar?

Not without a gun to my head.

Heading over to the refurbished log cabin, Lane stood to one side as Mack put his pass card through the reader and pushed his way inside.

The interior glowed with old wood carefully tended to, the light from outside passing through bubbled glass that had been added in the late 1800s. Rustic armchairs offered those waiting places to sit, and a trestle table with a lot of modern office equipment was clearly where Macks assistant spent her time.

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