Genuine Lies

see that the studio hadn’t given Charlie more than a sidekick roll. He had gone out of his way to sneak behind Charlie’s back and cuckold him with each one of his wives. How could he make anyone understand that it had been a game to him, a petty, childish game brought on by youth and envy? Charlie had been smarter, more skilled, and just plain nicer than Michael could ever hope to be. He hadn’tmeant to hurt Charlie, not really. After the suicide, guilt had eaten at him until he’d confessed it all to Eve.
    He’d expected comfort, solicitude, understanding. She’d given him none of those things, but had settled into a cold rage. The confession had doomed their marriage. Now Eve would doom what was left of his life with a bitter humiliation.
    Unless someone stopped her.
    Sweat popped out on Drake’s skin like bullets. Eyes wild, he wandered around his house, not nearly drunk enough to sleep. He was still fifty thousand short of the mark, and time was running out.
    He needed to calm down, he knew he needed to calm down, but seeing Delrickio had scared him to the point of having his bowels turn to water.
    Delrickio had talked to him politely, affectionately, and all the while Joseph had stood watching Drake with dispassionate eyes. It was as if the beating had never taken place—as if the threat it was meant to impart didn’t exist.
    That made it worse somehow, knowing whatever would be done to him would be done without passion, with the cold, clear head of business to be transacted.
    How could he convince Delrickio that he had an inside track with Julia when everyone had seen her with Paul Winthrop?
    There had to be a way to get to her, to the tapes, to Eve. He had to find it. Whatever risks he took couldn’t be worse than the risk of doing nothing.
    Victor Flannigan thought of Eve. Then of his wife. He wondered how he could have gotten so tangled up with two such different women. Both had the power to destroy his life. One through weakness, one through strength.
    He knew he was to blame. Even loving them, he had used them. Still, he had given them both the best he had—and by doing so had cheated all three of them.
    There was no going back and fixing it, certainly no way to change what already was. All he could do was fight to keep it from unraveling.
    And as he turned restlessly in the big, empty bed, he ached for Eve, and feared her. In much the same way he ached for and feared a single bottle of whiskey. Because he’d never been able to have enough of either. However many times he had pulled himself away from both addictions, he was always dragged back. Though he had learned to hate the drink even as he thirsted, he could only love the woman.
    His church wouldn’t condemn him for draining a bottle, but they would for one night of love. And there had been hundreds of nights.
    Even fear for his soul couldn’t make him regret a single one of them.
    Why couldn’t Eve understand that whatever it did to him inside, he had to protect Muriel? After all these years, why was she insisting on exploding all the lies and secrets? Didn’t she know she would suffer as much as he?
    Rising, he turned away from the bed and walked to the window to stare at the lightening sky. In a few hours he would go to his wife.
    He had to find a way to protect Muriel, and to save Eve from herself.
    In his suite at the Beverly Wilshire, Damien Priest waited for the sun to rise. He didn’t use liquor or drugs to dull his mind to sleep. He needed it awake, alert, so he could think.
    How much was she planning to tell? How much would she dare make public? He wanted to believe that the party tonight had been orchestrated to make him panic. He hadn’t given her the satisfaction. He’d laughed, swapped stories, slapped backs. Christ, he’d even danced with her.
    How silkily she’d asked him how his sporting goods chain was doing. How malicious her expression had been when she’d commented on how well Delrickio was looking.
    But he’d only smiled. If she’d hoped to make him afraid, she’d been disappointed.
    He sat, staring out the dark window. And was very afraid.
    Eve settled into bed with a long, satisfied sigh. As far as she was concerned, the night had been a tremendous success. Over and above the pleasure of watching a select few jump through hoops, she’d enjoyed watching Julia and Paul together.
    There was an odd and sweet sort of justice in that, she thought as she let her eyes drift closed. And it was all about