Fidelity (Infidelity #5)

“No. This isn’t happening.” I stood again. “Take me to her.”

Oren stepped in front of me. “Alexandria, I don’t believe in sugarcoating things. I never have. Dr. Rossi is concerned that she may never wake, and if she does, there could be irreparable damage.”

His words squeezed the muscles of my throat, making any response difficult. “W-when will we know?”

“Time will tell us.”

The warm, welcoming feeling I’d enjoyed upon my arrival disappeared into the cloud of fear his news delivered. I didn’t speak as he led me up the stairs. My only thought was of my momma. I didn’t think about Nox or our past as we passed the door to the room Nox and I had shared. I ran Oren’s words and phrases over again in my mind. With each step they sank deeper and deeper into my psyche. We didn’t stop until we reached a set of double doors.

As Oren reached for the doorknob, I reached for his arm. Something he’d said stood out. “Why do you take responsibility?”

“What?” His voice sounded dazed as if he too had been lost in thought.

“By getting my mother, you were doing what Lennox asked, what I wanted. It was my doing, not yours.”

He stood taller, his chest inflating. “Absolutely not.”

Before I could respond he went on, “Adelaide will wake. She will be the vivacious, beautiful woman she always was. I believe that with everything in me. However, if I’m wrong, which you should take comfort in knowing is rarely the case, but if I am, her fate is not your doing. You did the best you could. You were willing to sacrifice your own soul for her. She didn’t want that, and neither do I. If things don’t go as planned, it is on me.”

“How do you know about what I was willing to do?”

“The responsibility is mine.”

There was a tone of finality in his speech that I recognized, the authority that left little room for argument. He was Nox, or Nox was he. If it weren’t for the thicker accent, I could close my eyes and believe that Oren Demetri was his son.

In that second, I wanted to do what Nox continually asked of me. I wanted to trust. This time it wasn’t Nox I was trusting. It was Oren. It felt wrong, but at the same time it felt right.

Was this what it was like to have someone who shielded me from life’s tragedies and responsibilities? Was this what it was like to have a father? Though I knew he and Nox had their difficulties, I wanted to believe that Oren was sincere.

We’d both been right about the night. It’d been incredibly long, and my emotions were on overdrive. I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around Oren’s waist. “Thank you.”

His reaction was delayed, so much so that for a moment I regretted my show of emotion. And then, his arms surrounded my shoulders as my cheek fell against his chest. I didn’t understand the connection. I didn’t try, but for a moment, I was a little girl finding comfort and security in the arms of a man who somehow understood my difficulties, who shared my fears.

When I stepped back my cheeks were again wet. “You do care about her? It’s not just about Nox and I, is it?”

“I do.” He reached for the handle. “Shall we?”





BLOCKED NUMBER: “I FOLLOWED HER.”

Blocked Number: “BRING HER BACK. I DON’T CARE HOW YOU DO IT.”

Blocked Number: “SIR, IT’S NOT LIKE BEFORE. THE SECURITY HERE IS TIGHT.”

Blocked Number: “THEN WAIT IT OUT. EVENTUALLY SHE’LL LEAVE. WHO ELSE IS THERE?”

Blocked Number: “THE WOMAN AND DRIVER LEFT. SHE AND HER FRIEND STAYED. I HAVE NO WAY OF KNOWING WHO ELSE IS INSIDE.”

Blocked Number: “DID YOU RECOGNIZE HER FRIEND?”

Blocked Number: “YES, SIR, THE SAME ONE FROM… FROM BEFORE.”

Blocked Number: “DEAL WITH THEM BOTH.”

Blocked Number: “I WON’T LET YOU DOWN, SIR.”

Blocked Number: “NOT AGAIN YOU WON’T.”





BEYOND THE LARGE windows of the office, blackness prevailed, thick and chilled. It seeped through the cooled air, rattling the branches of the nearby trees and stirring the waters of the sound. I should have been concerned about the men outside, protecting the estate, but I wasn’t. It was their job.

The thick windows held out the wind, but just beyond the windows I could see its effects in the whipping vines on the veranda beside the house. Winter was coming and the chill was all around me. It had been a long time since I’d wintered in New York.

I pictured my apartment in Knightsbridge. It wasn’t warmer in London. If anything, it was cooler. Nevertheless, even during my self-imposed isolation, Knightsbridge was anything but. There was no dark lawn or daunting perimeter. The entire hamlet bustled day and night. It was filled with culture, fashion houses, and famous restaurants. Perhaps subconsciously I’d purchased the flat with Adelaide in mind. Now that she was here, upstairs, my desires were no longer subliminal. I wanted to take her there.