Flash Burned (Burned 2)

Without Dane.

More flowers arrived that afternoon, brought in by Jackson Conaway, Dane’s lawyer. His visit was equally brief. Deepest sympathies, lots of paperwork to complete that I would need to sign when I was up to it, accounts to go over, et cetera. I was the sole benefactor of Dane’s entire estate. I even owned all that now-useless land the Lux sat on.

The magnitude of the dangerous game nine men had played, and my entanglement, boggled the mind. They’d put everything on the line. A luxury hotel with no rival in the Western Hemisphere. And for five of them, they’d been willing to sacrifice forty or so lives, Dane’s and Amano’s included. All for money, prestige, power.

A chill ran through me. I understood how billionaire status could put people in a league of such extreme authority that they might deem themselves untouchable. In complete control of social, economic, political, and even environmental climates. I’d read enough about the sway the broader conglomerate considered the “Billionaires Club” reportedly had so that I knew a more focused, more potent Illuminati faction could be even more influential. And this particular group had clearly thought themselves invincible.

I fumed over Dane being that arrogant. But I couldn’t really be mad at him when I knew he’d been the one in the right. He’d tried so hard to change the direction of the poli-econ society when it had taken a wayward turn. He’d tried to protect the Lux and the people who worked there, including me. And had made the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of others.

Still, my feelings, my emotions, were painfully conflicted. I wasn’t sure who to trust, and that made me feel very alone … and wary. Because my most important job now was to protect what was mine. The baby growing inside me.

Before Mr. Conaway left, I inquired about Lux insurance and how we could cover the medical expenses of those who’d had to come to the ER following the explosion. And I wanted anyone dealing with post-traumatic stress to be offered help.

“We’ll pay for everything,” I insisted. “In whatever manner we need to, whatever arrangements have to be made.”

“I’ll take care of it, Ari. Don’t worry for a second. Just get better. And call if there’s anything you need. Anything at all.”

I breathed a little easier, knowing I could trust him to help Lux employees through this catastrophe.

But a peculiar sensation burned deep inside me. The only word I could attribute it to was … revenge. I wanted it. I needed it.

How was someone like me going to get it?

While I still stewed internally, I also considered the one visitor I’d anticipated, who had yet to make an appearance. Though Mikaela Madsen had sent flowers, she hadn’t come to the hospital. I wasn’t sure why I’d expected her to. We certainly weren’t friends. Just acquaintances because of Dane. Somehow, though, I kept myself primed and steeled for her to breeze in and make this more her tragedy than it was mine.

Though it occurred to me that perhaps she was too devastated herself to face this and to speak of Dane.

I couldn’t fault her and was actually happy she didn’t visit. I did feel obligated, however, to send my own bouquet, which Kyle helped me with on his iPhone, since mine was part of the 10,000 Lux rubble.

A couple days later, when Dr. Lindsey deemed it appropriate, she stopped in with a discharge packet.

“We’ll go to my house,” my father said as I settled in the wheelchair and Claudia rolled me into the hallway. “You can rest there.”

“No.” I shook my head ever so slightly, since it still ached. “I want to go home, Dad.”

“What’s the point?” he countered. “Ari, Dane won’t be there.” He didn’t say this cruelly, just realistically. That was Dad’s way. He’d never been particularly affectionate or demonstrative—whatever little bit might have existed years ago had been obliterated with my mother’s cheating.

I said, “I just want to be there.”

He conceded, albeit reluctantly. Kyle went with us, carrying my dress and shoes from the night at the Lux in the clear plastic bag issued by the hospital. I didn’t think about the aftermath of the explosion in terms of the grand opening that would have been days away from my release.

According to Kyle, PR had covered all the media inquiries and issued statements about the bombing, along with heartfelt apologies to those who’d been on-site. They’d also canceled all events and assured members their money would be returned in full.

I wasn’t certain what sort of hit Dane’s portfolio would take, but Mr. Conaway had been convincing when he’d told me everything would be resolved and I didn’t need to worry financially. Ever.

I felt compelled to issue some sort of statement myself regarding the Lux, particularly to the staff who’d been there that evening. But it wouldn’t have much bearing coming from Ari DeMille. And I knew better than to reveal my new identity as Mrs. Dane Bax.

I gave my father the code for the security gate when we approached it and slipped back into wrecked mode. Perhaps coming to the house wasn’t such a grand idea after all. I stared at the enormous structure and realized my dad had been right. All I wanted was for Dane to be there. Waiting for me.

My breathing escalated. My stomach knotted.

Kyle slipped from the backseat and opened my door. He helped me to the patio and I used the keypad to gain access. We entered the foyer and he reached for the light switch.

“Leave them off, please,” I said. Hazy streaks from the overcast day streamed through the unadorned windows, providing a bit of shimmery illumination.

“Where do you want this?” Kyle asked, holding up the bag. Whoever had packed it had taken great care to fold the dress so no blood showed through the sides.

“Just put it on the chair.” I gestured to one of them in the entryway. Then I asked, “Would you mind getting my nightgown and robe from my bathroom? Last room at the back of the house. My makeup and hairbrushes, too. There’s a tote under the sink that they all go in.”