To Love & Betray

Leila slowly made her way down the west wing corridor, tightening her silk robe’s belt as she walked. She glanced down at the baby monitor in her hand, where there was a black-and-white image of little Angelica slumbering in her bassinet beside Leila and Evan’s king-size bed. The bed was now empty, which was why Leila was doing her midnight stroll.

It was the same nightly ritual of her walking to his study on the first floor and wishing him good night. He’d mumble good night in reply and return to his work. She’d fall asleep alone and wake up alone because Evan often got up early to head to his office at Murdoch Conglomerated. Despite him being out of prison, this was the only real chance she got to see him nowadays.

Suddenly, Dante’s words echoed in her head, making her slow her pace.

“You’re not a Marvelous Murdoch, Lee—and you never will be! You’re just like me—a poor relation. And one day you won’t even be that. You’ll be his cast-off when he finally decides to move on to wife number three!”

But she wasn’t a “cast-off,” and there wouldn’t be another Mrs. Murdoch after her. She and Evan were meant for each other, and they would make this marriage work. It was just a trying time for them now, but these bad days wouldn’t last forever.

“Things will get better,” she quietly reassured herself.

As Leila neared the center of the corridor, she paused and frowned. She thought she had heard someone screaming. Leila took another few steps then halted again on the marble tile. She listened more closely.

There it was—a high-pitched scream. It sounded like a woman in distress. She started walking again. She picked up her pace until she was almost running. She stumbled in her slippers and nearly dropped the baby monitor, trying to find the source of the screams. Was it her mother, Diane? Dear God, was it Isabel? As she neared Aunt Ida’s bedroom door, the screams got even louder. Now frantic, Leila pounded on the closed door with her fist.

“Aunt Ida! Aunt Ida, are you okay?” Leila shouted. She tried the brass doorknob. It was locked. She pounded again on the wooden slab. “Do you need help? Can you—”

The door suddenly swung open and Leila jumped back in surprise. Aunt Ida stood in the doorway with a bedsheet wrapped around her petite frame, revealing bare feet. Her face and shoulders were doused with a fine sheen of perspiration. Her curly afro was matted and soaked with sweat. An irritated expression was on the elderly woman’s face. In the distance, Aunt Ida’s fiancé, Michael, lay on the four-poster bed across the room, naked, with a pillow over his crotch and a sardonic smile on his handsome face.

Leila’s eyes widened when she realized what she had really stumbled upon. She loudly swallowed.

“I’m . . . I’m sorry! You were . . . were screaming. I thought something was . . . I thought something was wrong.”

Aunt Ida leaned against the doorframe. “The only thing that’s wrong, honey, is that I was this close to comin’ when you interrupted me,” she sneered.

Leila grimaced.

“Do you know how hard it is to get a decent orgasm this far past menopause? Huh? Do you?”

Leila stared at her mutely, at a loss for words. Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment.

“I guess the next time I’ll leave a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the damn door,” Aunt Ida quipped before muttering to herself, stepping back into the room, and slamming the bedroom door shut in Leila’s face.

Leila turned back toward the hall, releasing a loud breath. “Jesus,” she whispered, torn between wanting to hide her face and burst into laughter.

“Do you know how hard it is to get a decent orgasm this far past menopause?”

Just the memory of the perturbed look on Aunt Ida’s face as she said those words sent Leila into a fit of giggles.

Serves her right if she couldn’t get off, she thought, then had to clap her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing even harder. Aunt Ida had barged into their home, and now Leila had barged into the old woman’s one chance to reach orgasm. There seemed to be some cosmic fairness to the situation.

Leila continued down the corridor and finally drew near the center staircase.

“Hey, Leila!” she heard someone shout behind her.

She turned to find Michael jogging down the corridor toward her. He was no longer naked, thankfully; he was now wearing a robe.

“Leila, wait up!”

She anxiously glanced around her, wondering why he was out here right now.

Shouldn’t he be getting back down to business?

She hadn’t had much interaction with the young man since the first day he and Ida had arrived. In fact, for the most part he seemed happy to sit silently beside Aunt Ida while the older woman did all the talking.

“Hi, Michael,” she said, forcing a smile, “look, I’m sorry that I interrupted . . . uh, you guys.”

He chuckled. “It’s fine. Ida decided take a shower, and I needed a break anyway. She’s not lying about how hard it is to get her going. We’d been at for the past couple of hours.”

“Oh,” she said, not knowing how else to respond out loud to that revelation.

TMI, she thought, glancing again at the stairs, desperate to get away from the awkward moment.

“I just wanted to apologize if she came off as rude. That’s all.”

“Really, you don’t have to apologize! Again, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I understand that you guys were . . . well . . . busy.”

“Just as long as there’s no hard feelings.”

She shook her head. “No! None at all! Don’t worry abo—”

Her words faded when he abruptly stepped forward and dragged her into a hug, crushing her against his bare chest. Leila stood frozen as he wrapped his arms around her. He rubbed her back through the silk of her robe.

“I know we just showed up on your doorstep, but you’ve been so nice to us,” he whispered into her ear, sending a warm blast of air against her cheek. Alarm bells started to go off in her head. They were similar to the alarm bells she had heard faintly when he shook her hand more than a month ago. “I can’t thank you enough, Leila.”

She shoved back from Michael. “I told you, it’s . . . it’s no big deal.”

“I hope I can reciprocate the kindness. If you ever need anything . . . anything at all. I’m here for you.”

A polite smile was still on his tan face, but she would know that predatory, smoldering gaze anywhere.

He had just finished having sex with one woman, only to make moves on another? She wondered if Aunt Ida knew this about Michael. Did she know the wolf in sheep’s clothing she let sleep in her bed every night? Leila wondered if she should tell Aunt Ida what he had just done.

It probably wouldn’t matter anyway, she thought, eyeing him. And Ida probably wouldn’t believe me.

But Leila resolved that she would have to keep her distance from this young man. She turned away from him and headed down the stairs.

“Good night, Leila,” Michael called after her, leaning over the railing.

She didn’t respond.

* * *

A minute later, Leila knocked on the cracked door to Evan’s study, then pushed the door open. She found him sitting at his father’s immense mahogany desk, as expected. Several stacks of paper were around him. His laptop was at the center of the desk, and the glow of its screen lit up his face.

Leila painted on a pleasant smile. “I haven’t seen you all evening. I just wanted to check in and see what you’re doing and . . . and say good night,” she said softly as she stood in the doorway.

“Just getting some work done,” Evan murmured, still staring at his laptop screen.

You’re always getting work done, she thought grudgingly but didn’t say it aloud. Instead, she looked around his study, taking a few tentative steps into the room. Her gaze landed on the serving tray sitting on a rolling cart not far from his desk. It was covered with plates from tonight’s dinner.

“You still haven’t eaten?” she asked, pointing at the untouched dishes.

“Huh?” he answered distractedly.

“It’s almost midnight, and you still haven’t touched your food! You didn’t eat dinner with us, but I thought you’d at least have your dinner in here.”

“I’m not hungry,” he muttered.

“You have to eat, Ev,” she insisted.

He didn’t answer her. Leila wasn’t sure if he was ignoring her or just hadn’t heard her at all. Either way, Evan continued to type. She watched as he paused to flip open a folder and rifle through a few pages before typing again. Her shoulders slumped. She felt dejected and, once again, rejected by her newly minted husband.

Leila stared at Evan’s bowed head for a long time. She wanted to tell him so much: that she missed him and needed him, that though he was here with her physically, he might as well be behind prison bars again for how distant he felt from her.

How could Evan not sense her loneliness? Her mother could see it. She had even encouraged Leila to finally reach out to Evan and tell him how she felt.

“That man is your husband, Lee,” Diane had lectured only yesterday. “He’s Angie’s father and might as well be Izzy’s father for how her daddy is going to be in jail and away from her for years. He needs to be here for you and his family. You need to tell him that!”

But Leila couldn’t do that to Evan. She reminded herself of what he was dealing with, of the sword that was dangling over his head. Her purpose was to lighten the burdens, not to make them worse.

There will not be a wife number three, she told herself.

“Well, anyway,” she called out, lowering her eyes and stepping back toward the study door, “like I said . . . I just wanted to say good night.”

“Good night, Lee,” he replied, turning to the folder again.

“Let me know if you need anything. I’m here for you, Ev.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, still not looking up at her.

She shut the door behind herself and headed back upstairs alone to their bedroom.