Blind Secrets (VIBE a Steamy Romance Book 2) 

 

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"This will never work,” Victor Grimaldi said.

He stared at the red-haired woman standing at the grave site. Guilt gnawed at his insides as he watched her lower her head. Her hair fell forward, veiling her tears from his scrutiny. Is this really worth it? How could he look Amelia in the eye after this? After all, she was his friend.

Victor looked away unable to witness her grief any longer. “She doesn’t deserve this,” he murmured. “It’s not too late to find a better way.”

“A better way!” his companion scoffed. “And you deserve to be left alone? Surely, there’s a better way to be included in their family.” His companion stepped closer, the voice a little more cajoling than before. “Look at them. All sharing in her grief. A family mourning the loss of a respected if despised family member.”

Victor shook his head, not wanting to hear the words, yet knowing there was a thread of truth in them. He swallowed hard.

“He’s grieving as much as she is, and you can’t even comfort him,” his companion said with disdain. “Look at them. All the family is there, and where are you?”

Victor once again fastened his gaze on the gravesite and the couple standing there. He could just make out the corner of the American flag peeking from beneath her left arm. Her back was ramrod straight despite her thin shoulders quavering up and down. His heart thudded a little faster when he caught sight of Gage Bedford, a gangly, somewhat awkward youth standing beside the woman.

He towered over her smaller frame. Even at this distance, the youth’s stance spoke of comfort and shared sadness. He watched the teen’s lips move. She acknowledged the words with a faint nod before he walked away and left her alone again. A faint drizzle misted the air while thunder rumbled in the background.

“At a distance, watching.”

The soft words jerked him back to reality. “He doesn’t deserve this either,” Victor muttered.

“And you do?” the companion demanded. “Quit your whining. She’s never gonna know the difference.”

Victor swung his gaze back to his companion. “But I know the difference!” He drew a stuttered breath. “She’s going to find out.” He dragged nervous fingers through his short, cropped hair. Gareth Bedford, a well-built black man and his lover, stepped close to the woman and leaned in. As the man wrapped an arm around her shoulders, a stab of jealousy sliced through his gut. Victor had no right to feel that callous emotion, since he was the source of her pain. Yet…it persisted.

“It’s very simple, Victor.” The speaker lifted sunglasses and glared through brown eyes. “She’s blind; she’s grieving. By the time she discovers what happened, things will have progressed too far for her to prevent anything. And if she does find out,” Long, thin fingers flicked lint from Victor’s shoulder, a cold smile creasing equally thin lips, making Victor flinch, “I will know exactly who to blame. Understand? She’ll marry Gareth Bedford in three or four months, and no one will be the wiser. And no one will know your secret either.”

Slowly, Victor nodded. He glanced back at the man and the grieving woman, just as she crumpled to the ground. The man lifted her in his arms and cradled her close. The gangly teen hurried forward. The man shook his head, then nodded toward a line of cars. The youth took off in that direction.

A fresh surge of guilt swamped Victor. There was no way he could keep this from them, but the next words chilled his blood.

“Of course.” They watched the couple as well; Gareth was carrying Amelia to a waiting limo. “If she ever learns the truth, before the culmination of my plans, you will know what it’s like to grieve for your lover.” Returning glasses to face the speaker spun on snazzy heels. “And her death will be on your conscience too.”

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