The Bloodstained Bride Page 2

  Local St. Killian glitterati joined some of the well-heeled wedding guests who’d decided to fly down in advance of the weekend wedding. Staring down at the crowd, it occurred to Vivian that the combined wealth of the various wedding guests was probably more than the GDP of a small third-world country.

  From members of the Middle East ruling elite to the offspring of Wall Street wizards, the one percent was well represented, more sparkling than the expensive champagne, shining brighter than the diamonds that adorned fingers, necks, and wrists. They swirled and flowed in and among each other, a kaleidoscope of gossamer and wealth, silk and privilege.

  “See the guy trying desperately to be the center of attention,” said Leo, tilting his head down. “That’s Derek.”

  “In the orange suit?” asked Vivian, her gaze drawn to a tall, beefy guy dancing the mambo, surrounded by a bevy of scantily clad model-types. Swiveling his hips, the man Leo had referred to as the albatross around his neck, snapped his fingers and let out a roaring laugh that drowned out the steel drum band and caused heads to turn.

  “Looks like a Dreamcicle threw up on him,” said Leo, shaking his head.

  Slipping an arm around her husband’s waist, Vivian leaned her head against his shoulder. “Leo, you’re supposed to be setting aside your bitterness for his benefit, remember? You promised Burt.”

  Leo shook his head. “You would not believe all the shit that douche put me through.”

  Rubbing her husband’s back, Vivian gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “But, you got through it.”

  “Barely,” said Leo, exhaling. “Did I tell you about the time when Derek lost a hundred thousand at an illegal poker game in Monte Carlo, and we had to run from Russian thugs—”

  “Because Derek couldn’t settle his debts.” Vivian nodded. “You told me.”

  Last night, Leo had kept her up well past midnight, regaling her with the wild tales of debauchery and adventure he’d barely survived as he played the unwitting, and often unwilling, wingman to Derek.

  “What about the time when Derek got caught in Thailand with underage hookers and—”

  “Somehow, you ended up in jail—”

  “Where I would still be, I might add—”

  “If not for the help of Burt’s friend,” Vivian finished the story. “The Canadian ambassador to Thailand.”

  As Leo pulled her into his arms, Vivian laughed at his sheepish smile. “Come on. We have to go down to the party and say hello to the pain in your ass.”

  “Aw, Mrs. Bronson.” Leo made a face. “Do we have to?”

  “Yes, Mr. Bronson,” she said, guiding him away from the balcony. “We have to.”

  Minutes later, they stood poolside, chatting with Burt as a sly, sultry bossa nova beat floated on the balmy sea breeze.

  “Have you spoken to Derek yet?” asked Burt. “He’s been asking about you since he, Besi, and the wedding party arrived earlier this afternoon.”

  “I’ll get around to it,” said Leo.

  Vivian glanced around, looking for Derek. On the opposite side of the pool, her husband’s frenemy held court under the shaded portion of the terrace. A raucous raconteur, Derek Hennessy had shed his jacket and pushed up the sleeves of his tailored shirt as he held his growing audience in rapt attention. Gesturing wildly, he seemed to be acting out some tall tale, completely enthralling the group clustered around him.

  “See that you do, Leonard,” said Burt. “Sooner rather than later, please.”

  As Burt walked away, Leo shook his head.

  Taking his hand, Vivian said, “How about you get it over with? Probably won’t be as bad as you think.”

  Grabbing a champagne flute from the tray of a passing waiter, Leo took a swig and then said, “No, it’ll be worse.”

  “Derek’s over on the terrace,” said Vivian, glancing to the left. “We could go over there and—”

  “Or, we can head in the other direction,” said Leo.

  “You can’t avoid him forever,” Vivian said.

  “I’m not trying to avoid Derek forever,” said Leo. “Just for as long as possible.”

  “Leo—”

  “I’m going to introduce you to the bridal party,” said Leo steering her toward a group of young women in skimpy, expensive evening wear, giggling and drinking champagne.

  After a round of hugs and air kisses, Leo made introductions.

  “Ladies, this is my lovely wife, Vivian,” he said, smiling at her. “Viv, this is Kelsea Gates …”

  The daughter of a tech billionaire, Kelsea was tall and thin, with a Louise Brooks platinum blonde bob, an icy demeanor, and nonchalant attitude. She had high cheekbones, her best feature, and a small mouth drawn into a pucker, as though she was about to blow you a kiss … or, maybe spit in your face.

  Leo said, “And Winnie Quasebarth …”

  Vivian nodded at the plump young woman. Framed by buttery blonde curls, her cherubic face was more malevolent than angelic, with large eyes, a pug nose, and dimples.

  “This is Melanie Adams,” said Leo, turning toward a petite woman whose auburn hair was pulled back into a messy bun. She had a heart-shaped face and green eyes that were both engaging and sincere.

  Vivian smiled and told the bridesmaids it was nice to meet them and they expressed the same feelings. Giggling and grinning, they teased Leo about his former aversion to marriage and congratulated him on making such a good choice.

  As the women sipped champagne and shared a few laughs with Leo about their prep school antics, Vivian found Melanie to be the most friendly and accepting of the three bridesmaids. Winnie, whose eyes darted about, was like a kid who’d eaten too much sugar, with an unfocused nervousness. Kelsea seemed to be half-listening and hardly participating as her eyes roamed during the conversation. Vivian wasn’t sure if Kelsea was looking for an escape, or maybe for something more entertaining.

  “Wait a minute,” said Leo. “Where’s Besi?”

  Shrugging, Kelsea said, “Who knows?”

  “Or even cares,” said Winnie.

  Surprised by the comment, Vivian glanced at Winnie, who quickly looked away as she swayed to the slow reggae song.

  After a quick glare in Winnie’s direction, Melanie said, “Besi wasn’t feeling very well.”

  “Is she sick?” asked Leo.

  “Obviously,” said Kelsea.

  “What does that mean?” Leo asked.

  As her husband voiced the question she was thinking, Vivian glanced at Kelsea, but the cool blonde was reaching for another flute of champagne from one of the many servers.

  “She’s marrying Derek Hennessy.” Kelsea took a sip of bubbly and shrugged. “There’s got to be something wrong with her. Who in their right mind would marry that cretin?”

  “That’s what I don’t understand,” said Leo. “How did those two end up together? Derek

  barely noticed Besi, and when he did bother to acknowledge her, all he did was tease her about her nose.”

  Kelsea snorted. “Speaking of Besi’s nose—“

  “You wouldn’t recognize Besi if you saw her, Leo,” said Winnie. “She looks so different since the surgery.”

  “The surgery?” Leo echoed.

  “She finally got that bump in her nose removed,” said Kelsea, her lip curling in a sly sneer.

  “Derek made her do it,” said Winnie. “I heard it was a requirement.”

  “That’s not true,” said Melanie, shaking her head.

  “What kind of requirement?” Leo asked.

  “Derek told Besi he wouldn’t marry her unless she got the bump removed,” said Winnie, smiling with malicious glee. “A few months ago, she went to the Aerie Islands and checked into the Rakestraw-Blake Center.”

  “She looks so much better,” said Kelsea, finishing her champagne. “If you ask me, she should have gotten that bump removed ages ago.”

  Winnie lifted a shoulder. “She looks okay, I guess. Still don’t see what Derek sees in her.”

  “Are you kiddin
g?” Kelsea snorted as she put her empty flute on the tray of a passing server and picked up another one. “When Derek looks at Besi, he sees three billion dollars.”

  “That is not true,” said Melanie, green eyes narrowed. “Why would you say something like that?”

  Rolling her eyes, Kelsea responded by taking a long, slow drink of champagne.

  “Well, it was nice to see you ladies again,” said Leo. “And I’m sure we’ll talk more this week, but I want to introduce Vivian to the groomsmen, so if you would excuse us.”

  As they walked away, Vivian said, “I thought bridesmaids were supposed to be caring and supportive and maybe, I don’t know, actually like the bride.”

  Chuckling, Leo said, “Kelsea and Winnie have always been first class bitches, but they’re Besi’s closest friends, not that you would believe it.”

  Leo guided her toward a table featuring a bountiful array of hors-d'oeuvres. Picking up a caviar and smoked salmon canapé, Leo fed it to her and then said, “Stay here. I’ll try to see if I can find the groomsmen.”

  3

  As she chewed the succulent canapé, Vivian faced the table and swiped a large, pink shrimp from the edge of a chilled glass bowl and dipped it into a chunky red sauce.

  “Are you a friend of the bride or the groom?” The question came from Vivian’s left, and she turned in the direction of the soft-spoken female voice.

  “Neither,” said Vivian, turning to face a dark-haired woman wearing a red cocktail dress and large sunglasses that obscured most of her face. “I’m the wife of a friend of the groom. What about you?”

  “Both. I went to school with Derek, and Besi is … a good friend,” said the woman as she turned to swipe an hors-d’oeuvres. “I was hoping to talk to Besi, but I haven’t seen her.”

  “She’s not feeling well,” said Vivian, shielding her eyes from the sunlight glinting off the surface of the woman’s dark shades.

  “Oh, no,” said the woman, her forehead furrowed. “That’s a shame.”

  “One of the bridesmaids—Melanie Adams—said Besi was ill,” said Vivian.

  “I know Melanie,” said the woman. “Maybe I’ll try to find her and find out why Bessemer isn’t feeling well.”

  Vivian said, “When Leo, my husband, introduced me to Melanie and the other bridesmaids, they were over near the—”

  A loud chorus of raucous cheers, behind Vivian, stole her attention. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a game of limbo on the other side of the pool. Laughing and clapping, guests queued up to take turns bending beneath a bar.

  Smiling and shaking her head, Vivian turned back to the brunette.

  She was gone.

  Confused, Vivian glanced around. Where had the woman gone? Maybe to look for Melanie?

  “Hey, Babe,” said Leo, behind her.

  Vivian faced her husband.

  “Why the frown?” asked Leo. “You not in the mood for shrimp cocktail?”

  “No, the shrimp is perfect,” Vivian said, distracted. “Did you see that woman I was talking to?”

  Leo shook his head. “Didn’t see you talking to anyone.”

  “She was a friend of Besi’s,” said Vivian. “I didn’t get her name, though.”

  Shrugging, Leo said, “Well, maybe we’ll see her later. I found the groomsmen. Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

  Moments later, they headed across the lawn toward a trio of guys Leo had known since grade school. As Leo made introductions, Vivian smiled and observed the groomsmen.

  Tom York, whose angular features and strong jaw were both appealing and anachronistic, looked like some matinee idol from the 1950s with his exaggerated pompadour hairstyle and the pronounced cleft in his chin.

  Jacob Rice was ferret-faced, pale and freckled, with strange manic energy.

  Zeke Irving’s smile was more like a sneer as he said hello.

  As the groomsmen and Leo laughed and joked about old times, Vivian couldn’t help but notice how easily her husband fit in with his fellow scions. Leo liked to say that although he’d been born into the glamorous life of trust funds, he wasn’t about that life. However, there were moments when he didn’t seem very different from the rich young lions he insisted he was nothing like.

  After the groomsmen drifted away to mingle with other guests, Vivian turned to Leo. “Okay, Mr. Bronson …”

  Leo gave her a hesitant look.

  “We need to find Derek,” said Vivian. “No more avoiding the guest of honor.”

  Groaning, Leo drug a hand along his jaw. “Think I’m going to need another drink.”

  “It won’t be so bad,” promised Vivian, standing on her toes to give him a quick kiss. “I’ll be with you.”

  “Yeah, that’s what worries me,” said Leo.

  Curious, Vivian asked, “What do you mean?”

  Sighing, Leo said, “Derek is a notorious—”

  “Leonard Skynard!” came a boisterous bellow, behind them.

  Vivian saw Leo tense as his jaw clenched and he cursed under his breath.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Vivian tried to prepare herself as Derek Hennessy headed toward them, laughing and clapping his hands.

  Grabbing her husband’s hand, Vivian gave it a quick squeeze as Leo exhaled and turned to face the man he claimed was the bane of his existence.

  Derek Hennessy grabbed Leo and smothered him in a fierce bear hug, despite Leo’s protests. Stifling a giggle, Vivian stepped back as her husband grappled with his frenemy. As Derek declared his joy at seeing Leo again after so long, Leo struggled to extricate himself from Derek’s grip.

  Pushing Derek away, Leo put his hands up in defense as Derek growled playfully, balled his fists, and shuffled from left to right, feinting and shadow boxing.

  “And who is this lovely lady?” asked Derek, eyeing Vivian.

  Leo said, “This is my wife, Vivian. Vivian, this is Derek.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Derek,” said Vivian, smiling as she extended her hand.

  “The pleasure is all mine,” said Derek, his crooked smile ripe with lasciviousness.

  Vivian gasped a giggle as Derek brought her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across her knuckles. Leo frowned and stepped between her and Derek, forcing Derek to back away from her.

  “So, you’re getting married?” said Leo, folding his arms across his chest. “Congratulations. It’s a big step, one I didn’t imagine you would take.”

  “Dude, you should talk,” said Derek, feinting and shadow boxing again before he grabbed Leo and draped an arm around Leo’s shoulders. “Nobody was more surprised than me that you got married.”

  Vivian caught her husband’s gaze. Leo’s face was a mix of chagrin and rage. She gave him a sympathetic smile, but she knew he didn’t like to think about the issues that had torn them apart until Burt’s heart attack drew them back together.

  “But, you did tie the knot,” said Derek. “And now I see why.”

  Reluctantly amused by Derek’s salacious tone, Vivian cleared her throat as the brash, boisterous guy leered at her, his gaze traveling the length of her body.

  Pushing Derek away with more force than Vivian figured was necessary, Leo asked, “What the hell do you mean you know why I tied the knot?”

  “She is quite the hot chocolate fantasy,” said Derek, whispering loud enough for Vivian to hear.

  As Derek gave her a lusty grin, Vivian prayed that Leo wouldn’t slug the guy.

  “Did you just call my wife a hot chocolate fantasy?”

  “Dude, all I’m saying is that I understand your decision to make this fine specimen of a woman your wife and I applaud you!” Derek clapped Leo on the back. “I enjoy a little café au lait myself now and then.”

  Worried by the scowl on her husband’s face, Vivian hurried to make peace before things got out of hand and Leo ended up ripping Derek a new asshole. “So, Derek, um, Melanie said Besi wasn’t feeling well. I’m sorry to hear that. I was hoping to meet her.”

  Shrugging, Derek said,
“She’ll be fine. But, Leo, dude, I have a favor to ask you.”

  “A favor?” Leo looked wary.

  Derek said, “Man, I know that I haven’t always been the best friend I could have been.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  Nodding, Derek said, “True, but I want you to know I’ve always considered you to be the brother I always wished I had.”

  “Oh, what a sweet thing to say,” remarked Vivian, not surprised by the quick, withering glare Leo shot her.

  “I want you to be my best man,” said Derek.

  Leo stared at him. “Are you kidding? Wait, I thought Tom was your best man.”

  “Yeah, I thought so, too,” said Derek, glancing away, toward a group of revelers cheering as they formed an impromptu conga line. “But, now I’m not so sure.”

  “What does that mean?” Leo asked.

  Vivian wondered the same thing.

  Focusing on Leo again, his gaze sober and sincere, Derek said, “It means that after all we’ve been through together, and everything I put you through, you have always been like the brother I never had. I know I don’t deserve your friendship, but it would mean so much to me to have you standing by my side when I marry the woman of my dreams. So what do you say, Leo? Will you be my best man?”

  4

  The early afternoon St. Killian sun was especially brutal, thought Leo as he trudged along the pink sand beach behind his father’s estate. Wiping sweat from the back of his neck, he felt his irritation rising in direct proportion with the escalating temperature.

  Again, Leo wondered how the hell he’d allowed Vivian to convince him to join the wedding party. Why the hell was he going along with this ridiculous idea of being Derek’s best man? His wife seemed to think that putting aside his bitterness toward Derek would make him a better person. Leo doubted it. Both Vivian and his father wanted him to let go of his grudge against Derek, but Leo didn’t think he was actively holding on to animosity.