Over the rim of my martini glass, I surreptitiously study my middle son and his wife.
There’s a familiarity there that disturbs me. Darius and Amy usually sit close together but maintain an icy reserve. Today, he’s perched on the armrest beside her, his hip against her shoulder.
His arms are crossed, his handsome features expressing boredom. She looks somewhat sober, although she, too, has a martini. She’s wearing a sleeveless navy sheath dress of a respectable length made interesting by artfully, deliberately twisted shoulder straps. The darker color suits her better than the neutral palette she’s copied from me. Her long hair is loosely waved and draped over one shoulder.
Most would think she has class, but I know better. A sewer rat in Louboutin heels is still a sewer rat.
Ramin sits at the other end of the sofa, scrolling through his phone. His hair is too long, but not unattractively so, the dark waves falling into his eyes so that he repeatedly pushes them back. Unlike Darius, who sports a nicely tailored light gray suit, Ramin has shown up in dark jeans and a camouflage Henley.
My youngest, Rosana, wears a strapless romper that shows off her graceful arms and curvy legs. It’s one of the new capsule pieces we’ve designed in collaboration with the world’s biggest e-tailer. Nude-toned and sparkly, it sold out in minutes. She’s paired it with athletic shoes that haven’t yet been released to the public. The photos of her out and about in them today will drive pre-orders.
I taught her not to squander opportunities. Influence waxes then wanes. With collaborations such as ECRA+ – which she’s also presently wearing – and fashion, I hope to set her up to maintain her lifestyle moving forward. She’ll never be forced into reliance on any man for anything.
“Where the fuck is he?” Ramin asks. “I don’t have all day to sit here.”
“You don’t have to remind us that you’d rather be doing shit-all somewhere else. We know.” Darius stands and holds his hand out for Amy’s now-empty glass in a silent offer to refill it. He’s an enabler, my son, hoping to keep his wife codependent to save their marriage.
“Fuck you, brother.”
I’m as impatient as Ramin. There is something different about the penthouse now. While it looks exactly the same, the glass walls restrain frenetic energy, an expectancy on the verge of crescendo. We all feel it skittering up our spines, and the tension is maddening. Is it Kane’s dynamism, trapped here by his own choice to remain home? Is it hers?
Lily. A troubling presence, even unseen.
I’ve only talked to my eldest in video conferences over the past month. My fear that anything – or anyone – could be more valuable to my son than Baharan appears unfounded. He hasn’t missed a step at work. His wife’s precarious health hasn’t affected his ambition. Still, his withdrawal to the penthouse is concerning. The staff perform better when feeding off his energy.
Ice is rattling in the shaker when Kane enters the library dressed in a graphite-gray suit, white shirt and silver tie. His posture is perfect, his stride commanding. He takes over the room instantly, and those dark eyes – Paul’s – are impenetrable.
Kane is a hard man, emotionless and detached. His handsome face blends all of my and his father’s best features with none of our flaws. That combination of stunning physicality and reserve has always served us well. If I feel a pang of regret that I contributed to his brutal indifference, it’s only momentary. Baharan wouldn’t be what it’s on the verge of becoming without his heartless calculation.
Witte joins us on my son’s heels like a shadow.
The majordomo is tall and well-built beneath his uniform of white shirtsleeves, black vest and black trousers. His pure-white hair is thick and expertly razored into a high fade undercut, allowing for a voluminous backward sweep that emphasizes his height. His beard is more pepper than salt, and it’s exquisitely kept. There are teasing hints of flexing muscle as he moves, enticing a woman to imagine the fitness of the body beneath the provocatively proper clothes. He’s extremely attractive and very sexy.
But he’s come into the room without a beverage cart and makes no effort to serve anyone, so Kane has asked him to stand by solely for support. The notion of needing a servant’s reinforcement against his own family infuriates me.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Kane says without a hint of remorse, sinking into a studded leather wingback chair and facing the rest of us with studious ease.
“No, you’re not,” Ramin drawls, not even deigning to look up from his screen. “But now that you’re here let’s get on with it. What’s the big family emergency?”
“There’s no emergency. We now have a firm grasp on my wife’s situation, and it’s simpler to explain once, for everyone, rather than speaking to you all individually.”
“Basically, it’s more convenient for you. Who cares what the rest of us had planned?” Ramin puts his phone away and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, suddenly focused and all business.
He might complain about the effort involved, but when it comes to family, Ramin is the first person to show up with a shovel to bury the bodies. That loyalty is a real credit to the way I reared him.
“You know we’re all here for you,” Amy says vacuously.
“What a lovely reminder, Amy,” I tell her, my tone soft and sweet. “Even if it’s entirely unnecessary.” My smile widens when she shoots me a murderous glance.
“Are we going to meet our new sister-in-law or not?” Ramin asks. “Or is it former sister-in-law? Was she declared dead? Or divorced in absentia?”
“She’s finishing up with a visitor, but she’ll be joining us shortly,” Kane replies. “And no, she’s not new, not dead and not divorced. I’ve been married over six years.”
“Who’s visiting?” I press sharply.
The traffic camera footage of Lily’s hit-and-run was covered on local news channels in the week following the accident, with police asking for tips to identify the driver and vehicle, which had license plates registered to a different make and model car. Mercifully, Lily’s name wasn’t disclosed. It’s of utmost importance that we keep her under wraps until we know enough to defuse any possible explosive revelations. I’ve tried to discuss the need for discretion with Kane, but reaching him privately has been a struggle, and when I have, he’s been curt.
He waves off my alarm with an irritated flick of his wrist. “Someone to run out for things she needs.”
“Why can’t Witte do that?”
“Why don’t you leave the running of my household to me?” he retorts.
My pulse races. His defensive protectiveness doesn’t bode well for making him see reason. If he’s convinced she’s more important than Baharan and his family, I’ll have to deprogram him. “Can I ask where Lily’s been this whole time?”
Darius returns to his former position by Amy, forming a united front with his wife.
Kane shrugs negligently as if it’s no great matter either way. “We don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” I demand. “She won’t tell you?”
“She’s been diagnosed with dissociative amnesia.”
“What does “dissociative” mean?” Rosana pulls her legs onto the couch and hugs them to her chest.
Kane plays with his wedding band, spinning it around his finger. It’s not like him to fidget. Long ago, yes, but not since we reconnected.
“While she was gone, it’s believed she had no memory of her life before. Now she knows who she is and has regained most of her memories, but she’s been living as someone else and has no memory of that time.”
Ramin straightens. “So, she’s brain-damaged.”
Kane eviscerates his brother with a piercing sidelong glare. “Eloquent, as usual, Ramin. We’re discussing a psychological condition that affects a person’s autobiographical memory, usually brought on by trauma.”
“Well, that explanation came straight out of a doctor’s mouth,” Ramin drawls. “So, her brain is fine; she’s just crazy. Got it.”
“Ramin.” There is warning in my tone.
“What?”
Rosana frowns. “I’m not sure I understand. Something happened to Lily that was so terrible her mind made her forget you and your life together …? Why did you think she was dead without a body?”
Kane’s expression turns savage.
“Sorry,” she says swiftly. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”
He takes a moment to rein in his temper before addressing his sister. “It’s fine, Rosie. Lily took her sailboat out and didn’t return. The day started out beautiful but was forecast to turn squally in the afternoon, and it did. The Coast Guard launched an exhaustive search that lasted for days, and eventually, they found debris, but that’s all. After a lengthy review, they officially declared her lost at sea.”
“Wow. Being stranded out in the ocean during a storm …” Rosana shudders. “Terrifying. Does she remember it?”
“Her most recent memory, before regaining consciousness a couple of weeks ago, happened several days before she went missing.” He pauses. “While we were still dating.”
Amy leans forward. “She doesn’t remember marrying you? She doesn’t know she’s your wife?”
“She does now, but she doesn’t remember the particulars.”
“Wow,” Rosana repeats. “How crazy is all this?”
“It’s insane.” Ramin throws himself back into the black leather sofa and crosses one leg atop the opposite knee. “One of the craziest things I’ve ever heard.”
I mentally sort out the timeline he’s given us. “She disappeared days after you were married?”
“Yes.” With every word he’s spoken, he’s grown harder and more unreachable.
“Why weren’t you with her?” Amy asks.
“I had classes all day, then practice. It wasn’t unusual for her to take the boat out by herself. She sailed often.”
“Oh, that breaks my heart!” Rosana cries. “You’d just married. You must have been so happy, and then she was gone. It’s all so sad, Kane. I’m sorry you went through that! Sorry you both went through that.”
“Thank you,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry, too.”
I’m speechless, shocked that we should have something so bizarre happen to both of us – a missing spouse.
He continues. “It’s possible therapy can help with accessing her memories, or they might naturally resurface with time … but limiting any stress or strain will be paramount to her healing. I’m asking you to please minimize any friction while she recovers.”
“That’s why you called us all here?” Darius blinks, incredulous. “You’re worried about protecting her? What about protecting your family? Or at the very least Baharan?”
“My thoughts exactly,” Ramin says with a brisk nod. “Do you have a prenup? If not, we need to discuss a postnup.”
“Stop. All of you.” I’m vibrating with nerves, and the penthouse’s ambiance feeds them. “You said Lily sailed a lot … Did she own the boat?”
His gaze is laser-focused on my face. “Yes, it was hers.”
“Not that one has anything to do with the other, but … was she wealthy?”
Silence descends so completely the library becomes a tomb. The building creaks as it shifts in the wind, a sound I’ve learned to ignore, but somehow, it’s painfully jarring today.
His answer is brusque. “Extremely. Haven’t any of you wondered how Baharan became what it is today?”
Aside from Kane, every person in the room has stiffened into stone. Amy recovers first, tipping her glass up to gulp the last of her drink.
“Oh, wow!” Rosana breathes.
“We have investors,” I argue as if anything I could say would change the facts. “I invested. Ryan said you’d been cultivating business contacts all through college …”
But I never asked. I didn’t care where he got the money. I just wanted Baharan back. I wanted as much of what Paul took from me as I could get. I sold my soul for it.
Kane gives a curt shake of his head. “Lily is the foundation for Baharan, period.”
And Kane owns fifty-one percent of the shares, which means Lily, as his wife, has her hands firmly around the company’s throat.
The room tilts. I grasp the arms of my chair. No one else has sacrificed what I have for the company, and no one ever will. They don’t have it in them. They don’t deserve it.
“This just gets better and better,” Ramin mutters.
Kane turns to him. “To answer your questions, Ramin: no, there are no agreements between Lily and me, and there will never be. She added me as a manager of her LLC, which held her assets, and that LLC holds the shares for Baharan. The company exists because of her; she’s entitled to stake in it.”
Ramin laughs. “After all this time, does she even want to be married to you? Maybe she just wants her money back and not you?”
Rosana shakes her head violently. “You’re seriously a dick sometimes, you know that?”
“Yes, actually, I do.”
I’m so sick to my stomach that I fear the burning gin and vermouth are likely to come up. Lily has reached up from a watery grave to seize both my son and my life’s work. I can’t have it. I won’t.
“Sorry I’m late.”
We’re all taken aback by the sound of an unfamiliar and startlingly high voice. It’s breathy, unmistakably sexy and unnervingly girlish.
Kane is instantly on his feet. Darius and Ramin follow suit, delayed by surprise. Witte, already standing, merely turns his head.
My eldest stares at his wife with such violent lust I fear for him. And for all of us. She has him spellbound. His siblings are all arrested with astonishment. Amy licks the inside of her glass.
My gaze returns to the lithe figure striding into the room, rising from the bloodred toenails to the sleek cap of glossy black hair. Her arms and shoulders are bare, the skin like flawless marble. Not a freckle or wrinkle mars that perfect flesh.
Her long, slim body is encased in black velvet, silk and lace. And she blooms like her namesake under the heat of my son’s ferocious regard.
All the tensity in the penthouse compresses into the library. I reach for my throat, massaging it with my fingers to ease the constriction.
Lily isn’t what I expected, especially considering how often I’ve studied her photo. Especially knowing my son as I do. He’s different now, but he was once so like his father. And like Paul, Kane would’ve been drawn to a woman of warmth and tenderness. I’m not that woman any longer.
Neither is Lily.