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“I heard all about it. Disgusting. This isyourfault. I know better than to ask you to fix it. You may think you’ve influenced my son, but you’re wrong. He’s going to need approval to get this started, and that isn’t going to happen.”
“But I thought Blaine was already on board with this. They had a meeting.”
“It’s a family decision,” Elizabeth snapped. “One that has nothing to do with you.” She clutched her handbag more firmly in her hands. “You have gone too far, Jayne. You have been nothing but a disappointment to me from the beginning. I helped you because it was the right thing to do, and all you’ve given in return is grief. You are nothing without me. Just another average young woman. You’re not pretty or especially smart. This”—she waved at the condo—“is the best you’ll ever do. You’re pathetic.”
The reprieve was over, Jayne thought. She folded her arms across her chest.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ve put up with crap from you for years. Mostly because I was grateful you took me in. I knew you wanted me to be an example for Rebecca, which was fine. Doing the right thing was easy. I liked being the good girl. I admired you so much. You were beautiful and gracious, in a cold, snakelike way. But you were the closest thing I had to a family, and I was willing to put up with a lot.”
“I won’t listen to this,” Elizabeth said, glaring at her.
“There’s the door.” Jayne pointed. “Feel free to go. In the meantime, let me say I’ve more than paid my debt to you. I’ve been your personal minion for ten years. I’ve helped you plan parties, written thank-you notes, done shopping, wrapped presents, looked after the house while you’ve been on vacation. I’ve been your sounding board, kept your secrets, and tried desperately to convince myself you actually gave a damn about me. But you didn’t. Not ever. I was a way to demonstrate how wonderful you are. Nothing more. As long as I acted like a well-behaved pet, you were happy to keep me around.”
“If you were a pet, we could have you put to sleep,” Elizabeth said, and crossed to the door. “Go to hell, Jayne. And stay there. You are dead to all of us.”
The door slammed, and Jayne was alone. She stood in the center of her tiny foyer. She drew in a breath, then another, cautiously probing her feelings, half expecting an emotional crash and burn. She and Elizabeth had passed the point of no return. Their relationship was damaged beyond repair.
There wasn’t any grief, she thought cautiously. No real pain. If anything, she had a sense of lightness. Something big and heavy had slipped off her shoulders, leaving her with the sense that she could almost fly.
She was free. No more answering to the angry queen, no more trying to please a woman who prided herself on being difficult. No more errands to run, no more canceling plans because Elizabeth needed her.
She was also alone, but that was nothing new. She’d been alone since her mother died. Living on the fringes of Elizabeth’s life had allowed her to pretend otherwise, but that’s all it had been. An illusion.
She turned to look at her small condo and smiled. It seemed like the perfect day to start packing. Out with the old.
Her cell phone rang. She picked it up and recognized the number.
“Hi, Rebecca,” she said.
“Hey, you. It’s beautiful outside. Want to have lunch on the beach? We can watch the pretty people go strolling by and know they’re wishing they were us.”
Jayne laughed. “That sounds like the perfect plan. You have a restaurant in mind?”
Rebecca gave her the name and address.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Jayne told her.
“I’ll save you a seat.”
The day was warm, the restaurant right on the beach, the waiter deliciously attentive. Rebecca ordered a lemon-drop martini and eyed the bread basket with interest. She’d been eating a lot of carbs lately. She was going to have to up the length of her morning walks on the beach or risk not getting into her jeans. But that was to think about tomorrow, she thought as she reached for a roll.
“Rebecca?”
She looked up and saw Jonathan standing next to the table. Well, there went her appetite.
She set down the roll and sighed. “Why are you here?”
“To give you a copy of this.” He handed her a thin folder. “It will be in the paper tomorrow. It’s a good picture. That will make you happy.”
She opened the folder and stared at the copy of an article. “Heiress Aids Terrorists,” the headline screamed.
Five years ago the rich and famous scrambled to purchase expensive and exclusive jewelry by mysterious and talented designer Rivalsa. While dozens speculated as to the designer’s identity, no one knew the truth. Except the Worden family. Rivalsa is none other than only daughter Rebecca Worden. She’s been designing her pieces from her palatial mansion in Italy. But why so secretive, Rivalsa? Is it because the beautiful diamonds everyone admired were purchased on the black market? Illegal conflict diamonds are bought and sold every day, the profits going to fund worldwide terrorism.
“What?” Rebecca screeched as she sprang to her feet and tossed the folder at Jonathan. “You bastard! None of this is true. I can’t believe you’d be this much of a shit. My diamonds come from Australia and Canada. I would never use conflict diamonds.”
“You screwed me in public,” he said with a thin smile. “Now it’s my turn.”
“If you’d done a better job of screwing me in private, none of this would have happened.”
