“It’s because I wanted something from you.”
“Like my marrying Elliot Reed.”
“Yes. For starters.”
For starters? “Yeah, well, I married him. As for anything else, um…no. I can just pay you back.”
“No, I don’t believe you can.”
“Well, I can’t pay it all at once. But eleven thousand dollars isn’t that—”
“You owe me more than eighteen thousand dollars, my dear.”
I gasp. “What? There’s no way I owe you that much!”
“You have no credit, and the money I’ve provided you with is basically an unsecured loan. People with your background and income level are lucky to get a twenty-five percent interest rate. I have compounded it daily, just like any credit card company would.”
Sweat slickens my palms. I’ve heard Dad talk about this, and I’ve taken a few finance courses so I understand the real extent of what’s happening. The worst of it is, Mr. Grayson is most likely right about my credit-worthiness. “Are you a loan shark or something?” There’s no other explanation for him locating me and giving me the money in the first place.
He barks out a laugh, which is kind of stunning. I’ve never heard him laugh before. But the sound isn’t pleasant. It’s the creepy cackle a movie villain makes when he has the hero trapped. “My dear, I’m far too respectable for that. Merely stating your situation. After all, most husbands, wealthy or not, would tend to balk at forking over such a large sum to cover a new wife’s debt.”
I think about Elliot, and what he told me about the other Annabelle’s betrayal. Would he really be okay with me asking him to cover my debt?
“Just to be clear,” Mr. Grayson continues, “I do expect you to repay me, with interest. And I always collect my debts.”
The way he speaks makes me ill. My instincts say he doesn’t just mean dollars and cents. There’s going to be something more… Except that doesn’t make any sense, does it? People don’t really do this in real life…do they?
“Stop sending me money!” I blurt out. The first thing I need to do is make sure I don’t get more in the hole.
“If you insist. Now, if we’re finished…” He hangs up.
I stare at the phone. The happiness that effervesced earlier is gone. In its place is stunned misery.
How could I have misjudged Mr. Grayson so badly?
I grip the steering wheel, my shoulders up to my ears. Mr. Grayson has always been unusually interested in my love life. After all, he’s the one who wanted me to marry.
Or was it really about me?
Maybe he was interested in who Elliot was going to marry. He wanted me to be a stripper so I could snag Elliot’s attention, but why? How would he benefit from me and Elliot getting married? Most importantly, how could he have known this would happen when he approached me? Elizabeth said only the members of her family knew about the true situation between me and Elliot.
None of it makes sense. I wish I could talk to Elliot, but I don’t know what to tell him or where to begin. My situation with Mr. Grayson is so outlandish that if somebody were to tell me, I’d just roll my eyes.
I flex my hands around the steering wheel and inhale deeply. Time to focus. First, get through dinner with Elliot’s friends. Then I’ll figure out what to do about Mr. Grayson.
* * *
Annabelle
“I’m home,” I call out as I enter the penthouse. It’s a little bit after three.
Elliot puts his phone in his pocket. He’s in a casual green V-neck short-sleeve shirt and black slacks. “Welcome back. How was it?”
“Spectacularly great.” I smile. “Thank you.” I reach over to kiss his cheek. He smells like fresh soap. He probably had his afternoon swim and showered not too long ago.
He turns his head so my lips land on his instead. The brief contact leaves me breathless as an electric sizzle zings through my body.
“Mmm.” He pulls back with a small frown. “You seem sort of tense. Did something happen?”