Protecting Melissa (Holiday Cove 4) - Page 1
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Melissa
From the outside, my life appeared as charmed as a day spent on a tropical beach where everything was blue skies, crystal clear waters, and endless sunshine. Anyone who looked at me would assume I didn’t have a single care in the world. They’d probably think my biggest problem was something like finding ways to spend all my fat stacks of cash, determining which of my three vacation homes to summer at, or where to get my weekly facial when my favorite esthetician went out of town.
You know, rich people problems.
In reality, my life was about as far away from the sun as I could have ever imagined possible. Most days were closer to the sensation of being abandoned on a glacier, slowly drifting day after day through an ice coated wasteland.
Being married to a billionaire sounded wonderful—in theory. Lavish vacations, invitations to all of the fanciest parties, and of course, the endless supply of money. But as it turned out, money really couldn’t buy happiness. And added to that list, there were a few other things that money couldn’t buy you—true love, satisfaction, fidelity, or even security.
My husband, the real estate mogul Henry O’Keefe was a force to be reckoned with in the boardroom. A hurricane packaged in a priceless Italian suit.
He’d been nothing more than a hustler selling timeshares when we’d met, and everyone, myself included, had been swept away by his charm, drive, and ambition. He’d always reminded me of a roving tiger, calculating and plotting his next meal. It was a persona that had certainly carried him…us…a long way over the years.
Unfortunately, over time, that hungry tiger had taken over more and more of the man I’d married. Seven years later, I could no longer see the difference between Henry the businessman, and Henry the husband and father, the man I fell in love with.
He’d taken the real estate world by storm, conquering coastal California towns one by one and turning them into thriving resorts that made millions in profit every year. Each development was grander than the last and it seemed as though each one took a bigger piece of his soul.
His appetite had recently led him down the coast to a small town called Holiday Cove and the project had consumed him for the past six months. I didn’t have the faintest clue of the details. I didn’t care. All I knew was that the man I’d fallen in love with, married, and had a son with, was gone.
And I was done waiting for him to come back to me.
“Good morning, George,” I greeted, my heels clicking on the hand-laid paver stones leading from the hulking Pacific Palisades mansion to the circular driveway where a sleek, black SUV with tinted windows and bulletproof siding was waiting for me. George Giabaldi, our most trusted driver, was waiting at the back door, pulling it open as I approached.
He tipped his hat and offered a smile. “Good morning, Mrs. O’Keefe.”
I smiled through my inward cringe at the title I so desperately wanted to shake off. “Thank you.”
Once I was safely tucked in the backseat, George closed the door softly, and hustled around to the driver’s side. “Where can I take you this morning, ma’am?”
“The Redwood Plaza, please. I have a doctor’s appointment.”
George nodded. “Of course, ma’am.”
We set off and I stared out the dark window, each breath deliberate and slow. I couldn’t let George see how unnerved I was. On the outside, I was a calm, cool lake of tranquility. My chestnut hair was pulled back into a sleek chignon, diamond studs adorned my earlobes, my makeup clean and polished to perfection, and my smile soft as though there wasn’t even a hint of something out of the ordinary about the routine task.
However, inside my head…nothing was settled or calm. Every thought was jarring, like a shout, and my heart was thudding against my chest in such a frantic pace, like a wild beast trying to break free of a trap. My palms were coated with sweat and I kept them folded on my lap to keep them from shaking so badly that George would notice if he glanced in the rear view mirror.
By the time George pulled up in front of the sprawling Redwood Plaza, a complex of professional offices in the heart of the city, I’d managed to talk myself down from the ledge. I was going through with the plan. It was no longer optional. Things were in motion that would be difficult to undo and if I kept second guessing myself, I would make a mistake.
One that could prove to be fatal.
“Thank you, George,” I said, exiting the car as he came around to open the back door for me. I smoothed the back of my heather grey pencil skirt as I stood on the sidewalk. “I shouldn’t be long. Would you please wait nearby?”
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