Masked Innocence (Innocence 2)

“Why?”

“For my independence, my life of freedom without fear of arrest or death. My wealth, though money has never been a problem for any of them. They feel slighted—rejected—like I have been disloyal, which I understand, though I have never crossed or harmed them by my independence. There are also some of them who have a streak of mean, of evil, if you prefer to think of it that way. They enjoy the brutality of the business. Unfortunately, the business, the money, the contacts—it all equals an environment where hatred and sadism can grow and expand, like kudzu, taking over anything good. Leo is part of that group, the angry, mean ones.”

“Leo?”

“The man who came to your house.”

“To kill me.”

Darkness flickered in his eyes, and he nodded. “Yes.”

“If family is so important, so sacred, why would they not leave me alone, as a favor to you?”

“Because of business. You are not part of our family. You are an outsider, a loose end. Someone who threatens the freedom and way of life of our entire family structure. They don’t know you—they only know me. And my track record with women is...” He shrugged.

“Crappy.”

The response brought a smile to his face. “If you want to put it so eloquently. Crappy. So, they assume that what typically happens with my other relationships will happen here—that I will grow tired of you, dump you—and in response you will do everything in your power to—what was the phrase my father used?—make me bleed.”

I didn’t like the idea of his family carelessly discussing our relationship and its certain demise when they didn’t even know me. Clearly, I had already been judged and found wanting, therefore condemned to death. It felt like the f**king Middle Ages.

I slumped in my seat. “Unfortunately, I see their rationale. I wouldn’t put much stock in you keeping me happy and unscorned either.”

He laughed and grabbed my limp, depressed hand, bringing it to his lips. “Don’t worry. I have a plan that will supersede all of their rational thinking.”

“What is it?”

He started eating his soup, nonchalantly shrugging at me over the bowl. “Can’t tell you yet. But it’s a good one.”

“What if it doesn’t work—what if you can’t convince them?” A little bit of panic had entered my voice.

He met my eyes over the spoon. “I’m an attorney. Convincing people is my job.”

And, as far as I knew, he was extremely good at it. It was the only positive thought I could find, so I latched on to it with a death grip.

“Plus,” he added, watching me, “they won’t have an option. My father will know that when I speak to him.”

* * *

I DISTRACTED MYSELF with eating, and we both gorged ourselves, finishing off beef and broccoli, honey chicken and lettuce wraps by the time we left. We wandered through a few more shops, but were both dragging our feet, and we finally headed back to the red-vested valet.

“What next?” he asked, when we were back in the leather-wrapped comfort of the car.

“Home,” I mumbled, leaning back into the seat and stretching out my full stomach.

He pulled out of the mall and gunned the engine, heading for the interstate, and the car lowered itself, hugging the pavement as we flew along.

“Shit,” I said, ten minutes later, as we came in the back door.

“What?” he asked, shutting the door behind him.

“I totally forgot about the movie!” I said, disgusted with myself.

“Why don’t we watch one here instead—use the theater room?” Brad suggested, grabbing a bottled water from the fridge.

I frowned at him. “You have a theater room? Where?” I really needed to do a better job of snooping. Apparently there were entire sections of the house I had yet to explore.

He laughed, tossing me a cold bottle of water. “Yes, oh young one. Come on, I’ll show you.”

“What movies do you have?” I asked.

“You can look through them and see. If you don’t see a movie you like, we can head back out, catch a later one.”

I unscrewed the water’s cap, nodding my agreement. Two minutes later, I was standing in the theater room, mouth agape.

To say that Brad had a movie collection would be a gross understatement. Imagine an entire video store—back when those still existed. That would be close to the selection that the damn man possessed. The walls of the theater room—walls that I had dismissed in my initial glance—were spring loaded. If you pressed the edges they popped open slightly, and you could then slide them to the side, revealing floor-to-ceiling shelves, all the height of a Blu-ray disc case. I rolled my eyes, amazed at the wealth of movies in a format that was relatively new. Brad handed me a large binder that was a catalog, the movies organized by genre, with small images of the covers and brief descriptions for every film, along with a notation of where they were housed. I quickly realized it would take hours to peruse the damn thing, and instead flipped to the index, scrolling down the titles.

The first two I suggested—Bruce Almighty and Collateral—Brad rejected, but the third he agreed to, and I followed the indicated shelf/section notation and pulled out Good Will Hunting, handing it to him.

We settled in, side by side, in the love seat–style theater seating, and I tilted my head toward the wall, now closed, the cases hidden from view once again. “You know that’s OCD at its finest.”

“That’s called organization. Can you imagine trying to find a movie without a system in place?”

I squinted at him, trying to imagine the big man painstakingly organizing the thousands of movies, cataloging them in proper order. That didn’t mesh with the Brad I knew—the Brad who couldn’t sit still for five minutes without his leg jiggling, or pulling out his cell phone. “And you organized it?”

“Do you think I organized it? You know me better than that.” He turned up the volume, the previews beginning, and put his arm around me, pulling me to him. “One of the interior designers handled it all. I told her I like movies, to get me a big collection. They kind of went overboard, but I don’t mind.”

“I just can’t believe we were about to pay to watch a movie when you have so many choices here.”

He laughed, and squeezed my arm affectionately. “God, you have issues.”

I looked up, kissing him on the neck. “I can only see one issue that I have right now. One big issue.” I poked his side.