It had to.
Madeline forced an adoring smile and waved. Then for good measure, she blew him a kiss. He smiled, the curving of his lips confident to the point of arrogance, then returned to his conversation.
She backed away from the window, relief flooding her. He didn’t know. Neither did Adam. She and Grace were safe.
For now.
Madeline spun around, thinking of the past months. She had lived in fear, she had spent every waking moment walking a tightrope between acting as if nothing was wrong and protecting Grace, between appearing unconcerned about Griffen and being too terrified even to sleep, lest he use that opportunity to sneak into Grace’s room and violate her.
Living that way had taken its toll. She was tired and on edge. She had lost weight, so much that people had begun to comment. There had been times, as she paced the floor during the middle of the night, that she had wondered if she was crazy. If she was delusional, as Pierce had said.
But those times were few; they didn’t last long. She would recall Griffen’s expression when he looked at Grace, would recall the coldness of his eyes, the cunning of his smile, and she would know she wasn’t crazy.
Everyone else was blind.
Madeline crossed to the bed, bent and peered underneath—her suitcases were there, where she had left them, waiting. Hers was packed, Grace’s empty. As soon as Pierce was gone, she would remedy that.
Madeline stood, glanced around the room, mentally ticking off her few options, reassessing her decision. She had no family to go to and had lost touch with all her old friends. Even her once–best friend, Susan, who she had been so close to that she had believed them soul mates, had slipped out of her life. She had no nest egg to fall back on and no means to support her and Grace. Pierce had seen to it that she had no financial independence; everything she had, Pierce either gave her or she signed for.
Adam’s sister, Dorothy, was sympathetic, but only to a point. Dorothy’s allegiance would always be first and foremost to the Monarch family and the family business. And Dorothy, like the others, was obsessed with the notion that Grace had the gift, obsessed with the belief that Grace would one day succeed her as the artistic genius behind Monarch Design.
Having no other option, Madeline had pawned her engagement ring—Pierce thought she had taken it in for cleaning—and used the money to buy a car. A late-model Chevrolet, a junker compared to the Mercedes sedan she usually drove. But it had low mileage and the woman from whom she’d bought it had sworn it was absolutely dependable.
Madeline had parked it a dozen blocks away, in a transitional neighborhood where it wouldn’t scream that it didn’t belong. Everything was in place.
Madeline checked her watch, then twisted her fingers together. Dammit, when were they going to leave? Every moment counted. Because every moment meant another moment’s head start before Pierce and Adam realized what she had done.
As if in answer to her silent plea, Madeline heard the slam of car doors. She raced to the window in time to see Adam and Pierce drive off.
Finally! Heart in her throat, she flew to the door, into the hall and down the stairs. At the foyer she stopped, forcing herself to appear calm on the off chance someone was about. She made her way to the study, closing and locking the door behind her.
She leaned against the door, letting out a breath she hadn’t even realized she held. She drew another. Across the room hung a small, exquisitely rendered landscape. Behind it, a wall safe.
She stared at the painting, working up her courage. For four months she had used every excuse to be in here when Pierce opened the safe; she had even used an insatiable need for sex, all in an attempt to learn the combination. She had watched, she had listened and counted and prayed.
And she had learned it, number by excruciating number. Or she thought she had.
Dear God, please let me have the right numbers. Don’t let me be wrong.
Madeline crossed to the painting. She swung it away from the wall. Her hands shook. They were clammy, slick with sweat. She spun the wheel to the first number, then the next and next. She grasped the handle and pulled.
It didn’t open.
She almost cried out in disappointment, physically biting back the sound. Without money, she couldn’t go as far as the corner. Without money, there was no way she could get Grace away from here, no way she could hide and protect her.
Stay calm, Madeline. Take a deep breath and try again.
She did.
The safe opened.
Light-headed with fear and relief, she reached inside. She moved aside a black velvet pouch emblazoned with Monarch’s “M” logo, counted out five thousand dollars, enough, she thought, to get her and Grace far from here and settled, until she could find a job.
She stuffed the bills into one of her cardigan’s deep pockets, then moved the pouch back to its original position and started to close the safe door. Her gaze landed on that black velvet bag.
What was in it?
On impulse, she opened the bag and dipped her hand inside—and pulled out a fistful of sparkling, fiery gems. Diamonds, rubies and sapphires. She caught her breath, stunned. By their beauty. By their heat. For even though they were cold against her palm, their fire made them hot.
What were they doing here? she wondered, selecting a particularly large, brilliant stone and holding it up to the light. Why weren’t they in the store’s vault, where they belonged? There they would be both safer and fully insured. It didn’t make sense. Adam and Pierce were nothing if not shrewd businessmen.
Madeline frowned at her own thoughts. She didn’t have time for this; what Pierce and Adam did with the store’s property wasn’t her concern. It never had been. She dropped the stones back into the bag, then shoved the bag back into the safe.
Take them.
The thought raced into her head, and with it a feeling, sharp, overwhelming—that she would need them, that Grace would need them. Madeline shook her head, denying the thought, the feeling. She was overwrought and anxious; she wasn’t thinking clearly. If she took the stones, Pierce and Adam would be that much more determined to find her. They would have that much more to hold against her in a court of law.
She swung the safe shut, made sure it was locked, turned and started out of the study. Halfway across the room she stopped, frozen, blinded by an indistinct but chilling image. She saw snow. And blood spilling across a gleaming floor. She saw the twinkle of gems and the glitter of ice. Her mouth went dry; sweat beaded on her upper lip. She saw dark water sucking someone down, swallowing them whole.
She began to shake. Take the gems. Take them now.
With a cry of pure terror, Madeline spun back to the safe, reopened it and grabbed the pouch. She slammed the safe shut and as quickly as she could, twisted the dial, then eased the painting into place.
She couldn’t turn back now.
Clutching the pouch to her chest, she ran from the library. Hysteria tugged at her; she fought it.
