Redemption in Love

Chapter Four




AMANDINE DROVE STRAIGHT to Brooke’s apartment. Staying at the mansion was not an option. The cloying scent of yellow roses was suffocating.

She pulled into a guest parking spot, killed the engine and went up the walk to Brooke’s apartment building. It wasn’t the nicest apartment complex around, but it was familiar enough. Amandine had lived there, on the ninth floor like Brooke, until she’d married Gavin.

Amandine punched in 9-0-4 on the intercom and waited.

A small red light lit on the panel. “Yeah?” came Brooke’s no-nonsense voice, reserved to discourage any door-to-door salespeople.

“It’s me.”

The door unlocked with a harsh, metallic click. Amandine shook her head as she took in the cracked floor and dirty walls. The building’s location made up for the lack of amenities, but jeez. It had gone downhill since she’d moved out, and the management apparently hadn’t done a thing to upgrade the place since then. How much could a fresh coat of paint cost? At least one of the lobby’s naked bulbs was still on to keep the area lit. She took the elevator up, hugging herself.

Brooke’s apartment door was ajar. “Come on in,” she called out from the inside as though she’d sensed Amandine’s presence, something she always seemed to be able to do.

Amandine slipped in and closed the door. “Sorry to barge in after giving you the rest of the day off.”

“It’s all right. Have a seat,” Brooke said from the open kitchen.

After taking off her shoes, Amandine settled on a crimson couch and tucked her feet under her.

Brooke’s apartment was as bold as her personality. A dizzying palette of magenta, teal, gold and daffodil yellow covered every inch of the standard rental’s white walls and pale brown carpet in the form of prints, hangings and rugs. A sharp envy pricked Amandine. She loved color too, but she hadn’t dared modify Gavin’s mansion. A team of high-priced interior decorators had worked on it, and Amandine didn’t think he’d appreciate her undoing the expensive pro job.

Brooke padded out on bare feet with two steaming mugs of herbal tea. Her crimson, gold and black toenails looked stunning. Amandine hadn’t seen the new pedicure earlier that day.

Handing Amandine a mug, Brooke took an armchair near the couch. “Drink,” she commanded. “It’s good for morning sickness. Sandy used to have it all the time when she was pregnant.”

She hadn’t experienced any nausea yet, but the mug warmed her cold fingers. Amandine hunched a bit over the tea, inhaling its steam.

“Why aren’t you at La Mer?”

“Catherine’s not married.”

Brooke’s thickly mascaraed eyelashes fluttered like butterfly’s wings for a moment. “Well, that’s not the answer I was expecting. What the heck happened? She file for divorce?”

“No. She was never married.”

“What are you talking about? She got married in front of everyone. You were her maid of honor, remember?”


“Yes.” Amandine rubbed her forehead in misery. “But it turns out Jacob wasn’t free to marry her.”

Brooke was staring at her now.

Amandine closed her eyes, trying to marshal her thoughts into some kind of order. “It turns out Jacob was already married. Well, still is married to some str—woman he met in Las Vegas.” The word was actually hard to say; she couldn’t imagine any Lloyd marrying a stripper. “Apparently he didn’t divorce her before marrying Catherine.”

Brooke’s jaw dropped. “Oh. My. God. You gotta be kidding me!”

“I wish.”

“What was he thinking?” Brooke put her tea down, went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Chardonnay. “Holy shit. I need a drink.” She poured a big glass. “I’d offer you some, but…”

“Go ahead. Just because I can’t drink doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

Brooke took a lengthy sip. “This is huge. Just imagine the scandal.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Oh wait. That’s why you said Catherine’s single.”

“Yup.”

“And earlier today Gavin went to—”

“Houston. And it wasn’t Hilary who called while we were at the hangar.”

Brooke put it together. “Catherine?”

“Looks like it.”

“Bastard.” Brooke reclaimed her seat. A furious shade of red blotched her cheeks. “So he told you that Catherine’s free again…when? Over your appetizers?”

“No. He never showed up.”

“He stood you up on your anniversary?”

Amandine nodded.

“Incredible. But wait…how did you find out about Catherine?”

“At La Mer, Mark Pryce came to my table to chat. When I told him Gavin was in Houston, he immediately said, ‘Damage control’.”

Brooke shook her head slowly in her “oh no he did not” mode. “So he, Mark Pryce—no relation to the Lloyds—knew. When you, Amandine Monroe Lloyd, did not.”

Amandine nodded, then blinked away tears. “With a little prompting, he told me everything.”

It had hurt so much to hear Mark tell her something she thought should’ve come from Gavin or Catherine. Maybe they thought it didn’t concern her. Amandine had always sensed some distance between her and her husband. There had been times when she felt like he was utterly remote and unreachable, except in bed.

But they couldn’t spend their lives in bed, could they? And it wasn’t like they were spending that much time making love anyway. They hadn’t had sex in over a month. He’d been too busy.

Brooke moved next to Amandine. “Gavin is a heartless ass.”

“But he’s not. One of the reasons why I fell in love is his generosity.”

“A guy as rich as he is can afford to write a few fat checks to charity.”

“It’s more than that.” Amandine took a sip of her tea. “You remember the BlueWheels bankruptcy?”

Brooke nodded. “That was ugly. A lot of people got screwed.”

“Mostly blue-collar workers who’d dedicated their lives to the company, which had promised them pensions, medical, the whole thing. Except the CEO took the money and ran off to Macau. By the time they found him, he’d gambled most of it away.”

“So what’s that got to do with Gavin?”

“He took over the pension funds at the request of the workers’ reps.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It went unreported because he didn’t want it publicized.”

“Was there any money left to pay his fees? He doesn’t come cheap.”

“He didn’t charge them because he said the pension funds couldn’t afford it.” The memory still touched Amandine. Gavin was a good man.

“I hate it when he does stuff like this,” Brooke muttered.

“There wasn’t much left, and most of the workers were in their mid- to late fifties.”

“Did he make them any money?”

“Unless I’m mistaken, he made back almost half the money lost within a year. He said he ‘went conservative’ to preserve their capital.”

“For a heartless jerk, he sure is good at trading. Or maybe he’s good precisely because he’s so heartless.”

“I think he just…compartmentalizes. But there’s no doubt—he’s one of the best.”

“How the hell does he do it? It’s like he turns dollar bills into minks, makes them have this huge orgy, then turns all of them and their babies into hundred dollar bills.”

Despite herself, Amandine gave a snort of laughter. She didn’t know exactly what Gavin did either. The only thing she understood about his work was that it involved making highly leveraged bets in various financial markets. Most of them were over fifty-fold, so that every penny up or down resulted in a fifty-cent gain or loss. Unfortunately, none of his bets were for pennies. He usually bet hundreds of millions of dollars per trade, if not more. Thank god, he was good at his job or a lot of people would’ve been throwing themselves out of windows.

“Anyway, when he does something like the BlueWheels thing,” Amandine said, “I can’t help but love him a little bit more. He didn’t have to lift a finger for them.”

“Guess you’re right,” Brooke admitted with the cheeriness of someone getting a root canal. “Still, that doesn’t mean he’s not an ass when it comes to you. And I take back what I said about how pregnancy changes a guy’s priorities. It probably doesn’t apply to him.” Brooke tapped the side of her glass with a fingernail. It made a small tinging sound. “Have you ever considered the idea that maybe he doesn’t think he owes you an explanation because you’re overly accommodating?”

Sometimes. Amandine sighed.

“Don’t just sigh and let him get away with it. He owes you. You’re his wife. You’re carrying his baby. Even if you weren’t married and pregnant, he’d owe you for the years you spent with him while giving up your dream.”

“My dream?”

“To be a great artist!”

“Come on. It’s not… I haven’t painted much in years. I’m not—”

“That’s my point! Being a proper society wife for Gavin has taken over your life. You don’t even teach at the Art4Kids anymore, and you loved that job.” Brooke shook her head. “But let’s forget art, since we’ll never know what could’ve happened. Instead we can look at something anybody can aim for, like finding a normal man who actually appreciates you. You could’ve married somebody like that and had a family of your own.”

“Gavin is normal.”

“Oh my god, he is so not. He’s rich. Rich people are unreliable, arrogant and impossible to reason with. They think money solves everything. Mark my words. He’s going to throw money at you for standing you up and expect you to be happy about it.”

Amandine shook her head. It was so cynical of Brooke, but Amandine didn’t blame her friend. Brooke’s mother had passed away in a car accident, and the other driver, who had been high at the time, had been an up-and-coming actor who thought writing a hefty check could undo the damage. Ever since then, Brooke had become jaded about people with money. It didn’t help that her father used to deal with the rich and their crazy whims.


“He’s already given me a private jet,” Amandine said. “What else could there be?”

“I don’t know. But I’m sure he’s going to throw that in your face, too.”

Amandine sipped the hot tea. “Gavin’s never that crude. His upbringing isn’t like most people’s.”

“Of course not.” Brooke snorted. “The proof is in the kind of stuff he’s been giving you. A custom-painted Mercedes. A brand new art studio. Now a jet. What’s next, an island?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” But even as she said it, Amandine couldn’t help but wonder… Would an island be next? What in the world would she do with it?

“He always gives you things that don’t matter,” Brooke said. “Things that he can buy easily. Even a jet is chump change to somebody like him. It’s like a normal guy buying you flowers, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to give you what you really need.” She propped her feet on a stack of fashion magazines on the floor. “I mean, it was one thing when you only had yourself to worry about, right? But with a baby? What kind of father and role model is Gavin going to be? What’s your kid going to learn, watching a father who’s unable to love and respect his wife?”

Amandine blinked. Too wrapped up in her disappointment and shock, she hadn’t thought about any of that.

Brooke continued, “No matter what you do, you won’t be able to fake love from Gavin. The kid’s going to know.”

“And it’ll hurt him,” Amandine murmured. She’d seen how her father Norman had left a strong negative impression on her younger brother Pete.

Norman had been a used car salesman, and when he’d lost his job, he’d gone from one venture to another, looking for a quick way to strike it big. Except the “opportunities” he’d gotten into had cost money, and he’d squandered the family’s savings until they’d been evicted from their small three-bedroom apartment. If it hadn’t been for the Fairchilds, the family on her mother’s side, they would’ve ended up homeless.

Amandine had forgiven Norman’s flaws because he’d been a good father and loved his wife. But Pete hated him for being a loser who hadn’t been able to provide for his family in even the most fundamental ways. As the sibling who got all the brains, Pete had graduated from Stanford with a double major in mathematics and German and then gone on to work for Gavin…all with the specific intent of making money. Pete didn’t even pretend he was capable of anything like love—he’d never dated anyone long-term, and Amandine sensed the only things he valued were money and status, so he could feel secure again.

What would her child learn from Gavin, if Norman hadn’t been able to teach his own son how to love?

I don’t know what more you want from me for Mother’s Day, Mom. I got you a yacht, didn’t I?

Amandine shook her head. That wasn’t the kind of child she wanted to raise. “But what other options do I have?” she said. “I can’t leave Gavin.”

“Leave him? Are you even going to get the chance?” Brooke poured another glass. “He seems more interested in spending your anniversary in Houston than here with you.”

“You think Catherine wants Gavin back, don’t you?”

“Well, if she can’t have Jacob…” Brooke raised her eyebrows. “Let’s face it: she likes her men rich.”

“And Gavin was hers first,” Amandine said softly, thinking about the time her cousin had wanted something back.

When they’d been growing up together, every so often Catherine had given her clothes and other things that she didn’t want any more. Since Amandine’s parents never had any money to spare, they’d been always grateful. And so had Amandine, until Catherine had suddenly cornered her in the high school bathroom one day.

“Give me back the necklace,” Catherine said.

Amandine clutched the pretty golden chain to her neck. It had a crescent moon pendant and she’d never owned anything so beautiful. “I thought I could keep it.”

“I changed my mind.” Catherine crossed her arms. “It was mine in the first place.”

Catherine’s friends made a half-circle, watching Amandine with vulture-like interest.

“But…”

“You heard her,” Catherine’s best friend said. “What Catherine giveth Catherine can taketh away. It’s not like you have anything that goes with the necklace anyway.”

The other girls giggled. Amandine felt her cheeks grow hot as her gaze dropped to her shabby, big box store clothes.

In the end, she’d returned the necklace. And the next time Catherine had given her something, Amandine had been careful not to think of it as hers. Her cousin could change her mind at any time. Ironically enough, Catherine had never asked for anything back again.

Until now?

Come on, Amandine. Gavin isn’t a thing.

Catherine hadn’t given Gavin away—he wasn’t some accessory you could just pass around. But at the same time he’d been her lover first, and what would prevent her from taking him from Amandine?

Marriage wouldn’t stop Catherine—even if she’d really been married in the first place. Amandine and Gavin’s own union   had come with a prenup that ensured a divorce would be quick and squabble-free.

And the bedroom she shared with her husband suddenly had Catherine’s favorite flowers in it.

Her stomach churned, and Amandine took a long soothing swallow of tea. “Mind if I spend the night here?”

“Not at all.” Brooke’s dark eyes softened in sympathy and understanding. “Spend as many as you want.”

* * *



Gavin sighed as the jet finally left the airport. What a damn waste of time. Other than giving Amandine her present, he hadn’t done anything even remotely interesting or worthwhile the entire day.

He leaned back in his seat and forced himself to relax. He wanted to blame Jacob for his foul mood, but he knew himself too well to lie. Guilt about missing their anniversary dinner gnawed at him. In hindsight, he should’ve just sent Hilary to Houston. There was nothing his executive admin couldn’t do, including babysitting a hysterical Catherine.

Gavin pulled his phone out and saw several calls from a number in Houston he didn’t recognize and a couple of texts from Amandine. He checked the latter first.

First one: Where are you? Should I leave or wait?

Second one: Leaving now.

He winced. She’d waited almost an hour before sending the second one.

He rubbed his face. Amandine had been looking forward to their dinner at La Mer. She’d made all the arrangements as well.

Damn it.

It was late now, but he should get a few dozen roses. That was the least he could do to start making it up to her.

He shook his head and made a small sound of annoyance. It was their anniversary; they should’ve eaten the best meal money could buy and then spent the rest of the evening having incredible sex. He’d really messed this one up, and after vowing to make it special for her.

Damn damn damn.

He knew he could be inattentive and overly focused on work at times. He’d even missed her last birthday. Though amends had been made—a brand new Mercedes convertible coupe with a custom opalescent pink exterior paint job—it had been a poor substitute for not planning anything. Their vacation to the Maldives—another thing he’d done to make up for the birthday—had seemed somehow anticlimactic as well.


So what should he give her to tide things over until he could do something about the monumental disappointment that this day had turned out to be?

He considered a few options and called Hilary, who picked up on the first ring.

“I heard from Amandine you were in Houston. Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, it’s all fine. Listen, I want you to look into getting a small yacht.”

“Leasing or buying?”

“Buying.”

“For you or your wife?”

“For my wife.”

“Quite a gift.” Hilary sounded amused.

“Lots of people in our circle have one, and she’ll enjoy cruising the Pacific coastline.”

“I’m sure she will.”

Hilary’s affirmation soothed his frayed nerves. A yacht would be just the thing. The beautiful ocean views might even inspire Amandine’s artistic side. She loved the impressionists, so she could be like Monet, drawing blue water stuff, except with more style. “If you don’t see anything suitable, see about getting one built. Something elegant and expensive.”

“Will do. How soon do you need it?”

“ASAP.”

Just as he hit “end,” his phone buzzed. He frowned at the screen. It was the Houston number again.

“Gavin Lloyd,” he said curtly.

“Gavin! It’s Simon,” came a booming voice.

Gavin frowned at the over-familiar tone. “Simon…?”

“Simon Caldwell. From The Lloyds Development? I’m the CFO and Jacob’s right hand man.”

Right hand man, huh?

“I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon,” Simon continued.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Of course.” He chuckled like they were old buddies. “Anyway, just a courtesy call to let you know you don’t need to worry about the company. Ethan said he’d oversee it temporarily.”

“I see.” Despite himself, Gavin was pleased with the news. Ethan was both sharp and thorough, just what the company needed. “If that’s all…”

“Ah yes. I won’t take up any more of your time. Good night.”

“Good night.” Gavin hung up. How odd that a so-called CFO thought this new development important enough to call Gavin multiple times. Did he not have better things to do?

The enormous lake of lights that was L.A. glittered on the other side of the window as the jet began a slow descent. Still thinking about TLD, Gavin tapped a finger on the armrest. There should be a contingency plan for the worst-case scenario. He wanted to believe Jacob had done his job at the company, but wouldn’t have bet even a penny on it.

But first things first. He dialed Mark Pryce.

“In case you’re wondering if your wife’s still here, the answer is a big fat no. She left a while ago.”

“I know.” Gavin stared at the seat across from him. “I need a favor.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you get us a reservation for lunch tomorrow?”

Mark sucked his teeth. “Do you have any idea how long the wait-list is for a table?”

“It’s important.”

“Makeup lunch?”

Gavin thought about denying it, but what would be the point? Mark had seen Amandine sitting by herself. “Something like that. A first step.”

“Twelve thirty, sharp. You can have a table for two for about an hour.”

“Thanks, I owe you one.”

“You owe me about ten or twelve,” Mark said with a chuckle then hung up.

Gavin’s phone buzzed again. It was another text message from Amandine.

I’m staying at Brooke’s tonight.

He sighed. This was definitely going to cost him. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that the price was going to be far more than he was comfortable paying. He felt like a schmuck who’d shorted Apple right before the iPhone launch.

I’m sorry about dinner, he typed. I booked us a lunch date at La Mer tomorrow at twelve thirty. Can you come?

A few minutes later, a reply appeared: OK.

Not “I look forward to it” or “You stood me up, a*shole” or a million other responses that would’ve shown what was going through her mind. Just “OK.”

Get a grip. He was being ridiculous. Amandine wasn’t the type to get melodramatic. The shock of Jacob’s bigamy and all the attendant drama must’ve thrown him off more than he’d thought, nothing more. After a nice romantic lunch, Amandine would thaw a bit. And the yacht would delight her. He would clear his calendar for the last two weeks of December and take her someplace warm for some R&R on her new jet. She’d like that. All women did.

He could fix this situation.