Chapter 7

 

 

Belinda laid out several non-coordinating items on the bed in an attempt to get dressed for the cocktail party that evening. Immediately after they moved into the carriage house, Belinda claimed the upstairs loft bedroom as her own. Kyle only stepped foot up there once, but Belinda had carefully strung out her lace push-up bras and matching hiphugger panties, successfully sending Kyle running for the downstairs. After that, he graciously offered to sleep on the couch.

She had to leave early to help arrange everything at the art gallery and she didn't have a thing to wear. And Belinda didn't throw that cliché around. None of her dresses had made it into the suitcases, so she was left with separates that seemed to have no mates. After trying almost everything together except for her pajamas, Belinda landed on something that she actually liked a lot. For the first time that day, she felt confident about the party. Maybe something good would come out of all the nonsense after all.

Belinda checked herself out in the bathroom mirror, thinking she might need an extra coat of mascara. She circled around to make sure she was all right from every possible angle. Up close. Far away. From the right. From the left. Bending over.

She wiggled into her heels and locked the door behind her just in time to get to the gallery when she wanted. Kyle had texted that he was going to the marine store after work to pick up supplies and then he had plans.

Plans? Irregular. He didn't elucidate, and the way he said it, Belinda knew his plans didn't include working on Sea Stud. But she'd have to ask him about that later. Right then she needed a parking spot and some antianxiety medication.

Belinda dashed around the art gallery patting down a corner of a tablecloth, directing servers to stagger the wine and champagne so it didn't run out, and nudging the flower vases to center them on the tables. Everything was in place and ready to run smoothly, so she felt a little entitled to breathe. The honey-colored wood floor creaked as guests arrived, mixed, mingled, and admired the art lining the walls. Kori found her in the back, cornered by Mrs. Sykes.

"Wonderful job," Mrs. Sykes said enthusiastically. Maybe more so now that she held a glass of red wine. "I thought a poolside party would be good next."

Belinda nearly choked on a meatball she'd stolen from the back. Hosting meant you didn't actually get to eat yourself. "Next?"

Mrs. Sykes nodded while swallowing, swirling the wine around and around in the glass. "They're still stuck here, so I thought the least we can do is entertain them."

We, Belinda thought ironically.

"So it's a plan?" Mrs. Sykes said with her eyes all innocent and wide.

Belinda could see the door from where she stood. Maybe she should run for it. Why wasn't she on a sabbatical in Europe, like her parents? Was she nuts? But what came out of her mouth was, "It's a plan."

Mrs. Sykes beamed. "You're a doll!" She squished Belinda in a hug and skittered off to mingle.

Kori handed Belinda a champagne flute. "She's in a good mood."

Belinda took a gulp, which was etiquette illiterate, but she needed an instant hit. She was experiencing déjà vu. Just like with the runway show, she thought the end of that night meant freedom. But now she had to scurry to put together a poolside party—and she still had plenty of work left before the next Saturday.

"It's the divorce," Belinda said between gulps.

Kori raised her eyebrows. "Wow. Didn't expect that from you."

Belinda waved her glass. "She's been like this since we all learned they were getting divorced. But I think she's making out well in the settlement."

"She got a boyfriend?"

"Not that I've heard, and believe me, the gossip has been flying since the, um, fight at the yacht club."

Kori tiptoed closer. "What kind of, um, fight are we talking about?"

Belinda tilted her head down. She really shouldn't say. But Mrs. Sykes throwing another party on her shoulders was getting under her skin. "I wasn't there, but it was a rather public, rather witnessed incident. Screaming and that sort of thing. According to one rumor, she threw a chair at him."

"A chair?"

Belinda rolled her eyes. "Highly unlikely. Whatever happened, they're in the middle of an epic divorce." She snatched another glass of champagne from a server's tray.

"She doesn't seem too upset for somebody dealing with a nasty divorce."

"Like I said, she's supposedly getting a good deal out of it."

"What happened?"

"I don't know."

Kori leaned on one hip.

"Okay, okay." Belinda took a deep breath. Again, she should probably keep her lips tight. She glanced around to make sure no one would overhear. "All I know is people said she was yelling about him cheating on her during the smackdown. But there's no sign of him with anybody new now, so I don't know that it's true."

Kori made a sour face. "I've always struggled with the concept that he married to begin with. How would he nab somebody else too?"

"Money?" Belinda shrugged. She'd seen weirder things happen.

"He ain't that rich."

"Well, I don't know. Like I said, it may be just an evil rumor. Maybe that's why he's always in such a state about everything. Like at the show." Belinda checked the door to make sure Mr. Sykes wasn't barreling in to complain about how much all of this was costing him.

Kori turned her champagne flute around, admiring how it sparkled under the light. "What about that Detective Parker? He in the middle of anything right now?"

Belinda considered her reply. She figured Jonas pairing with Kori right now would be impossible at best. "Just a murder investigation."

Kori twirled the glass around and smiled. "'Nough gossip. Let's mingle."

Kori grabbed her hand and dragged her into the middle of a cluster of guests. Belinda smiled with sparkle. The champagne was definitely working.

"I like a woman who knows how to throw a last-minute party with style," Sawyer said, not bothering to hide his admiration of her figure. Belinda looked around for Bennett, but he hadn't arrived yet. He'd warned her he might be late. She wasn't sure if that was due to work, or just because he didn't want to be there any longer than necessary.

Belinda's mind went blank on sassy responses. He held out his arm and after hesitating, Belinda took it. Kori smirked as he swaggered away with another victim.

They left the group in the center of the room and skirted the edge, pretending to examine the art lining the whitewashed brick walls. Or at least, Belinda pretended to examine them. Between the champagne and the echoes of conversations across the room and Sawyer's cologne, she couldn't focus on someone's abstract interpretation of the cycle of life right then.

"Fantastic job with the party," Sawyer said. "You make it look effortless."

Effortless totally missed the mark. "I promise I got this far by the skin of my teeth."

They entered an abandoned part of the gallery that wrapped around and led back to the main room. Sawyer stepped away to check out the rest of her skin. "You look stunning."

Belinda was about to babble something like a thank-you, when Sawyer planted his lips on hers. Seconds of shock later, she shoved him away, taking as many steps back as she dared with the room spinning like a pinwheel in front of her.

The floor creaked behind her and Belinda jumped and turned around in the same motion. On the bottom of some stairs that led up to the offices, Bennett looked on, expressionless. But she caught his eyes long enough to see them transition from surprise to ice.

When had Bennett showed up? And how long did she stand there like a fool letting Sawyer kiss her?

Bennett swiftly reached Belinda's side, tucking his arm around her waist. She felt her heart go from freezing in her chest to palpitating, and she stammered through an introduction.

Sawyer and Bennett sized each other up as they shook hands, and Bennett's tightened around Belinda as they did.

"So, event security." Sawyer tugged on his earlobe. "I guess you must be used to protecting parties, not attending them."

The words sounded innocent enough. But Belinda detected the condescending undercurrent. That would not go over well with Bennett.

Sure enough, Belinda watched him straighten up microscopically, tilt his head back by a millimeter, and slant his eyes, forming a hard line straight down his nose to Sawyer.

"You dress the attendees, and I watch them," Bennett said flatly.

Sawyer forced a laugh, scratching his chin. Something flashed through his eyes though. Something...hateful. It passed quickly, but his eyes remained hard in spite of his best efforts to replace it with his usual sparkle.

"Well, you have been enchanting as always." Sawyer said to Belinda like he'd known her for years. "And you do look stunning."

Despite Bennett's vice-grip on her, Sawyer lifted Belinda's hand to his lips, taking his sweet time while gazing up at her seductively. He finally winked and brushed past Bennett, who stood still and cold next to her with his free hand clenched by his side.

Belinda could barely speak, and wasn't sure she could move, but she had to get it together. She couldn't be like this the whole night. "I–I need to go to the ladies' room." She needed to stick her head out a window, and fast. "Would you...would you grab a peppermint for me? I think there's one in my coat pocket."

Bennett glanced down at her, his eyes still sharp. "Sure." His hand dropped from her waist and he loped to the narrow hallway by the entrance serving as a coat room.

Belinda dashed upstairs to the restroom, forcing open the lopsided window. She stuck her head out, inhaling fresh, cold air. It hit her damp skin, offering immediate relief from the anxiety attack coming on. Why did she ask Sawyer to help her?

A story below on the sidewalk, heels click-clacked. Belinda opened her eyes and saw what looked like Brooke's head off to the side, standing near the adjacent building. Belinda could make out the top rim of her glasses and she was dressed more casually than Belinda usually saw her in skinny jeans and boots. Brooke had sidled out of coming to the party due to plans. Brooke typed on her phone, pocketed it, and glanced around.

A minute or so later, another pair of shoes clacked—flatter ones—and a tallish figure appeared in front of Brooke. From the little bit of streetlight illuminating the meet-up, Sawyer was the man. He hugged Brooke, and then more astonishing, kissed her. And not a peck on the cheek, or even lips, mind you, but a full-on open mouth situation. Belinda stretched farther out of the window. The way things were that second, she doubted they'd notice if a plane flew over their heads.

They finally pulled away, keeping their faces close, whispering in urgent tones. Belinda strained to hear, but she could only make out the word "okay" coming from Sawyer's mouth every few seconds. The rest sounded like rustling plastic bags.

The wooden restroom door swung open, and Belinda nearly jumped out of her skin, slamming her body against the radiator beside the window. Kori let the door swing back, examining Belinda.

"You okay?" she said dubiously. "You've been gone a while." She looked from Belinda to the open window and back to Belinda. "Coming down with something?"

"No," Belinda said quietly. "I'm just hot. Really, really hot." And humiliated and stupid on so many levels.

Kori scanned her slowly like a copy machine, returning to meet her eyes. Belinda held her position by the radiator. "Maybe you should lay off the drinks. Or the designers."

Belinda's cheeks burned even hotter. Had she seen Sawyer kiss her? Kori passed her into one of the stalls, latching the wooden door behind her.

Belinda straightened herself out in the mirror and took a damp paper towel to her face. After dabbing and drying, she closed the window, noting that Brooke and Sawyer had disappeared.

Brooke and Sawyer.

That just confirmed he was insincere. But more to the point, it put a new spin on her assistant, who supposedly didn't know anyone from the show.

Belinda folded that up for later. More distressing things beckoned. Right now, she had a very unhappy man downstairs to assuage. She slid gloss onto her lips, smiled into the mirror, and threw open the door.

 

 

~ * ~

 

 

Bennett dug through Belinda's jacket pockets, searching for a peppermint, but his fingers had turned to jelly and he fumbled around, cursing his slipping composure. And more to the point, Sawyer Gallen for tainting Belinda's lips.

He came up with a crumpled straw wrapper, a folded movie ticket stub (why had she folded it?), and finally his fingers grazed something smooth and cool. Her credit card? That was a foolish place to leave it. Bennett pulled it out, flipping it over. It wasn't her credit card. It was...a hotel key card. Portside Inn. Heat rushed to Bennett's head as he read the note stuck to one side of the card. After party. Room 12.

She kissed Sawyer, and now this.

"Did you find it?" Belinda said from behind.

Bennett concealed the key card and note in his hand and swiveled to see Belinda, all doe-eyed and flushed though paler than when she'd run upstairs.

Bennett shook his head, his fist clenched around the card to keep from shaking. "It's not there."

She looked unhappy. "Maybe there's one in my purse." The thought was more for her than him so he didn't answer. She exhaled loudly and forced a smile. Now was not the time or place to discuss what had happened—that much was on her face. But she looked like she was trying to smooth things over as best she could for now.

She seemed sincerely upset. Was that because she didn't like what happened, or because he'd caught them in action?

Belinda took his arm, the one not holding the key card, and searched his eyes. "If you're done with all this," she whispered, "you don't have to stay till the bitter end. I'll be alright."

Bennett's eyes flicked to Sawyer chatting up one of the female assistants. "I'll stay." Belinda's eyes brightened and she looked relieved that he said so.

He tried to relax and started to guide her to the food on the other side of the room to bring the color back to her cheeks. When they came near the door, the stairs leading down to the main shop creaked like a stampede running up. They all turned to see Mr. Sykes filling up the entryway, breathing in and out rapidly, his dark eyes searching the room with clenched fists. Belinda sucked in a breath, whispering, "Oh, no." She looked like her worst nightmare was coming true. Bennett took a stance in front of her just in case.

Mrs. Sykes micro-ran over, her face panic-stricken, but she was eager to avoid a scene and held out champagne to her husband. Mr. Sykes slapped it from her hand.

"Albert," she said. "Please. Not now."

"Quiet! I'm not here to see you."

All conversation stopped, and Bennett took a step forward. Things were going to get worse, he could feel it.

Sawyer stepped over from the center of the room, stopping next to Mrs. Sykes. "Why don't we go outside?" he said calmly. A little strange, even if the two of them were involved somehow.

It seemed innocent, but Mr. Sykes exploded, grabbing Sawyer by the shirt collar. "I'll make you pay, you little fraud! Every last dime."

Not that Bennett didn't enjoy the thought of choking Sawyer to death, but this was getting out of hand, and Belinda was on the line too.

Bennett grabbed Mr. Sykes' wrist and forced his arm behind his back, putting his face right up to Sykes' ear so no one else could hear what he said. "You need to start thinking, or you're going to be the one paying him—in court." That threat worked its magic. Apparently the thought of more court fees scared him into relaxing.

"Later," Mr. Sykes growled at Sawyer.

Bennett let go and Mr. Sykes glared one last time at Sawyer and his wife before barreling back out.

Sawyer straightened out his vest and tie, nodding his thanks to Bennett.

Bennett glowered back. He couldn't deal with what happened now. But he would later.

A warm, slender arm pushed through his, and Belinda whispered her thanks into his ear, leaning her head against his shoulder. She looked pale and tired and relieved.

"What was that about?" he whispered.

Belinda piled the mini meatballs on an appetizer plate. "I'm not really sure. But he showed up all angry at the show too."

"Angry at Sawyer?" Bennett checked to make sure they were out of hearing range.

"No." Satisfied with her skyscraper of meatballs, they moved into a corner. "Mr. Sykes was mad about the cost of the catering or something. Maybe it's just the divorce."

Bennett might have agreed if Mr. Sykes hadn't called Sawyer a fraud. From that accusation and Belinda's observation, he doubted Sawyer was involved with Mrs. Sykes in the obvious way. It sounded more financial, which made him curious. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to blame Sawyer, but fraud and money in the same sentence sounded suspicious. Maybe Sawyer and Mrs. Sykes were into something illegal.

The night wore on and by bitter end, Belinda meant the bitter end. She clung to him the rest of the party, until Bennett saw her to her Mini Cooper.

"Talk to you tomorrow?" she said, hesitating to get in.

"Sure," Bennett responded automatically, consumed with watching Sawyer climb into a sports car. The key card burned in his back pocket, and he knew what he was about to do. He waved Belinda off, and hoofed it back to his truck before Sawyer was out of sight.

He followed Sawyer back to his lodging—the Portside Inn—and hopped out, sneaking into the lobby and shadowing Sawyer to his room. He waited a minute and slid the key card into the door slot. His heart thumped against his chest as he pulled it back.

Green lights.

Bile rose in his throat when his fingers pressed the handle and the door clicked open. Bennett entered Sawyer's room, just staring at the oak dresser and four-poster bed.

"I had a hunch you'd come." Sawyer's hand froze on his cuff button, his blue eyes cornered like a rabbit. "Oh, crap."

Bennett seized his throat, forcing Sawyer against the doorframe to the bathroom. Sawyer spluttered for air, trying to pry Bennett's fingers away. After choking him long enough he figured, Bennett shoved him into the bathroom and pulled the oak dresser in front of the door, panting as it groaned along.

"Find your way out of that," he said to the door.

Sawyer coughed in reply.

He'd made enough noise for a snoozy inn, but he had one more thing to do. Bennett flipped through Sawyer's phone, scanning his contacts, e-mails, and photos for any signs of Belinda. Or better yet, proof Sawyer killed April Arteau. If he was a fraud somehow and April found out, maybe he killed her to keep her from spreading the word.

He paused his scan of Sawyer's photos when he saw Belinda's assistant, Brooke, sans glasses, smooshed up against Sawyer in a bad picture he took himself. It was tough to discern where they were, but they were both dressed up. Bennett went back to the contacts. He'd flown through them, only concerned with Belinda, but now he paused and expanded one entry. The face belonged to Brooke, though she looked a bit different with her hair down and no glasses. But Brooke was not the name Sawyer had listed with her entry.

Someone pounded on the door. "Mr. Gallen, is everything okay?"

Bennett left the phone where he found it, forced open a window and ran down the fire escape, leaping into the alley below.

That woman had worked closely with Belinda for weeks. She was associated with Sawyer Gallen, who was clearly a snake, and she was using a different name. He wished he'd gone ahead and done a background check when Belinda insisted it wasn't necessary. Bennett tried to remember seeing Brooke at the party that night. He'd been distracted, but he still couldn't recall even glimpsing her from a distance.

Who was Brooke really? And what was she doing working for Belinda?