I sat down on Brogan's couch. "Oh honey . . ." I breathed. "Are you sure? I mean—"
"Yes. I followed him last night. He said he had a business meeting, but I just got a weird feeling. I've been getting a lot of them lately so I followed him to a hotel. He met a woman in the lobby and they went up to a room together. I followed and waited fifteen minutes before I knocked and he answered the door and," she let out another sob, "he was shirtless and she was in bed, Lydia."
My stomach dropped. There was no way to put a positive spin on that—no way to read it any differently than she had. "Oh God," I whispered. "Oh Daisy, I'm so sorry. I don't even know what to say. What did you say?"
"I couldn't say anything!" She sniffled. "I hightailed it out of there and sobbed in my car. I don't even remember driving home."
"Did he come home?"
"Yeah. He got home fifteen minutes after I did and tried to apologize . . . tried to explain . . . but, there's just no explaining that. And Lydia, it was his secretary. I recognized her as soon as I saw her in the lobby. I was just stupidly hoping they were there on some business together. Even as I followed them upstairs, I kept hoping. I mean, how cliché can you get, right? He even mocked a coworker that got caught cheating with his secretary last year—said how predictable it was. We laughed about it, you know, like if you're going to cheat, at least be original about it. And then . . . and then . . . that. The fucking hypocrite. Oh my God," she wailed. "Do you want to go shopping? I'm headed to the city now."
I blinked. "Shopping? No, Daisy. Shopping, sadly, is not going to fix this, honey. I don't even know if shopping will put a Band-Aid on this. Listen, I'm in the city at Brogan's. He's working, and I'm here alone. Do you want to come here? We can talk."
"Brogan's?" she asked.
"Oh Daisy," I sighed. "I have so much to catch you up on. But that can wait. We're going to talk about you first, okay?"
"I don't want to be alone right now," she squeaked. "Is that okay?"
"Yes. Just drive carefully, and I'll be waiting. I'm going to text you his address. There's a garage under his building, okay?"
"Okay. Thank you, Lydia."
"Of course, Dais." We said goodbye and I hung up and texted her Brogan's address, pursing my lips with anger. That jackass! How could he? I kicked the chair next to the couch, which only resulted in a dull ache in my foot. "Fucker," I muttered aloud.
As I blow-dried my hair and put on a little makeup, I felt so angry. Gregory was such a bastard. No woman deserved to be cheated on. Ever. I wasn’t sure how Dais would rebound from this. Just as I was sliding some gloss onto my lips, I heard the doorbell ring. It was Saturday, and Brogan had told me he had some work to do, but had acted a little dodgy about exactly what it was, just as he'd been doing a lot of lately. He promised he'd be back early and take me out to dinner. This was good as it meant he was less concerned about the potential safety issues involved in going out in public.
I pressed the button on the camera to the street and saw my brother. Frowning, I pressed the intercom. "Stuart?"
He looked around as if expecting someone to suddenly attack him and then leaned in to the intercom. "Lydia. Let me up. Hurry."
Hesitating and biting at my lip, I said, "I don't think that's a good idea, Stu. Let me come down."
"No! Someone's following me. Let me up, Lydia." He sounded so panicked, my skin prickled. Hesitating again, but only briefly, I pressed the button allowing him entrance. I waited by the door until I saw him outside on the other camera screen. I opened it and he rushed in, practically barreling me over.
"Whoa. What the hell, Stuart?"
"Why are you still here?" he demanded. I shut the door, turning toward him. "I saw him leave a while ago. I waited for you, but you never came down. Now's your chance to leave."
"Brogan's not keeping me here against my will," I said. "He just wanted to be sure the men who held your loans didn't pose a threat any longer," I explained, walking past him into the kitchen and behind the island. I had never even told him about the stabbing. What was the point? It was over, and there was nothing he could do about it now.
He followed me into the kitchen, standing across the island from me. "He supposedly paid off those loans," he said. "But he lied. He lied. There are men following me. And if they don't get me first, he will." He glanced to the window as if, even now, they could see him. "There are men trying to kill me. And he knows they'll kill you, too. That's why he's keeping you here," he growled, twitching in what turned into a sort of grotesque shudder.
I frowned. "Stuart, what's wrong with you?"
He threw up his arms. "I don't sleep!" he yelled. "You wouldn't either if you had a hit out on your life!"
I shook my head. "You're wrong. Brogan paid off your debts. You're free and clear, Stu. No one is trying to kill you."
He shook his head almost violently. "No, no, no. You're wrong. He lied. He won't be satisfied until I'm dead and then he'll ruin you, too. He'll make you fall in love with him and then he'll be the one with all the power. Whatever you do, Lydia, don't get feelings for him. He's a liar and a cunning devil."
"Stuart, God, do you hear yourself?" He sounded insane.