The Alpha Men's Secret Club 3(12)

But Carlo was not thinking rationally anymore. His quest for revenge was distorting his judgment and everything he knew to be right.

Who said you needed to be a billionaire to make things happen?

He said to Fiona, “Rust O’Brien has gone back to New York.”

“He forced you out of a job. I heard that little tramp went with him.”

Carlo bridled at the word ‘tramp’ used in context with Kate. Kate was pure and unsullied before she met Rust. Kate had only been claimed by Rust and no one else, as far as he knew. So the word ‘tramp’ was not technically correct, especially coming out of the mouth of Fiona.

He composed himself and said, “The O’Briens have secrets. They are a very rich, very private family with a lot of skeletons in their closet.”

Not only the obvious one, of course, but the rest of their secrets were all derived from the main branch – like offshoots from a great, secret tree.

“Oooh.” She pulled up a chair beside him. “And you’re going to expose some of them?”

“I’ve heard rumblings. And I remember seeing an article from some time ago . . . I need to dig it up now.”

That was what was bothering him. He couldn’t remember the reporter’s name, and he usually had a memory for such things. But he typed ‘O’BRIEN’ and ‘BELLEVUE’ in the same sentence, and out came an article from five years back.



‘BELLEVUE PSYCHIATRIST QUESTIONED IN SPATE OF INMATE DEATHS.



By Rita Cunningham.’



Rita Cunningham. That’s right, he thought triumphantly.

“Hey, is that Rust’s father?” Fiona said.

Inset was a photo of Connor O’Brien. He was the spitting image of his son, only older. His face was lined and weary, as though he had been working too many late nights.

“Yes.”

“Handsome. I’d do him.”

You’d do anyone, Carlo thought in disgust. Now Kate . . . she was a different matter. She wouldn’t do just anyone, and Carlo respected her for that. His heart ached with the thought of how much he actually loved her – a realization which had crept up on him suddenly.

Carlo had read that article before when he was younger, but didn’t register it much. Now he avidly perused every word. Certain phrases leapt out at him:



‘ . . . Connor O’Brien denies that electroshock therapy had been used extensively on the inmates.

“ECT is a well-accepted form of treatment for severe psychotic depression. The inmates who died had pneumonia and other pathologies,” Dr. O’Brien explained.

When queried about the autopsies conducted on the deceased inmates, Dr. O’Brien said, “You can request them from the morgue and study every detail of them yourself. We at Bellevue have nothing to hide.”’



Carlo sat back.

Nothing to hide, huh?

“We’ll see about that,” he said aloud.





11



The SATURDAY MORNING dress was a lovely lavender sundress with a tie-died skirt which deepened into a dark velvet at the hem. Kate donned the amethyst earrings and a matching necklace which showed off her pale skin to good effect. The dress had an apparent lack of cleavage, and the skirt came down to below her knees.

Kate was intrigued. What did Rust have in store for her?

She went down to the reception. Hector was down there waiting for her.

“Are you ready for brunch, Ms. Penney?”

She was famished. She didn’t have breakfast because she was wanted to be hungry enough for brunch with Rust.

Once again, she was disappointed when Rust wasn’t in the limo, waiting for her.

“Where are we going?” she asked Hector.

“To the O’Brien estate, Ms. Penney. Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien have invited you for brunch with the family.”



*



If Kate hadn’t been nervous then, she was sure as hell nervous now. Why didn’t Rust prep her for this? She was going to meet his parents! That had to be significant, right? What sort of guy took someone he was going to dump to meet his parents?

Unless . . . they wanted to view the ‘goods’ he was bringing to their Gathering tonight. Yes, that had to be it. She could well imagine the conversations they were having over her:

“But Rust, darling, she is merely a miserable human being.”

“We eat humans, son, not bring them to our events. She’ll be mincemeat by nightfall!”

“But, oh, if you must . . . let us meet the wretch before you send her to her demise. She has already cost you your job. What more havoc can she wreck on our lives?”

Hector could sense her growing apprehension.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Penney. I’m not allowed to talk much about the O’Briens, but I can assure you they treat all their guests with care.”