To Love a Stranger (9 page)

Both heads swiveled toward the door.

Ariel stood in the doorway, hugging a teddy bear and staring wide-eyed at the bed. “Daddy, what are you doing to Mommy?”

F
irst thing Monday morning at the House of Madeline, Lysandra stared open mouthed at her cousin. “You slept with him?”

“No. I didn't sleep with him,” Madeline hissed, crouched over her desk and then straightened in her chair.

“You mean, you would have if Ariel hadn't interrupted?”

“No,” she insisted with a little less vigor.

Lysandra crossed her arms as one brow stretched high.

“Don't look at me like that,” Madeline threatened. “I was
not
going to sleep with him. I was just…I don't know.” She shook her head while Saturday night replayed in her head.
She was still in control of the situation with Russell, wasn't she?

“Why don't you just admit you're attracted to the guy? I mean, sheesh. He is your husband.”

“Because any day now his memory is going to come back and he's going to go right back to being the same old asshole. I'd rather cut my losses and get out now,” Madeline said.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Lysandra shrugged. “He definitely doesn't seem like the same guy. It's just as likely what he's been through in the last six years has changed him apparently for the better.”

“You believe that?”

“Why not? He returned from the dead, didn't he?”

“I don't know why I talk to you about this stuff.” Madeline feigned interest in the budget spreadsheets on her desk.

“It's either me or your mother,” her cousin said, and then laughed. “Speaking of which, where is she?”

“I don't know and I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth,” Madeline admitted with a sheepish grin.

“Well, it's the Christmas season and if there's one thing she likes more than hunting for a new husband it's—”

“Shopping,” they finished in unison.

Lysandra smiled, took a sip of her coffee and then asked, “Anything happen after you put Ariel back to bed?”

Madeline's eyes remained on the spreadsheets. “I didn't put her back to bed. She slept with me, and Russell returned to the guestroom.”

Lysandra choked. “You used your little girl as a human shield? Ha! That's rich.”

“I did no such thing,” Madeline lied. “Ariel had a bad dream and she usually sleeps with me whenever that happens.”

Lysandra shook her head. “If that's your story then…”

“It
is
my story because it's the truth,” Madeline snapped, removing her reading glasses.

Lysandra clammed up and took another sip of coffee.

“All right. I had a weak moment. I admit it, but I was not going to sleep with him. I will not. Whatever truce we have is just for the holidays and the children.”

“And the fashion line.”

“Right,” Madeline agreed. “There are plenty of loveless, sexless marriages in New York. What's one more?”

“Riiiight.” Lysandra eyed her cousin, weighing whether Madeline had finally lost her mind.

Madeline wondered the same thing.

“What are you going to do the next time Russell tries to seduce you?”

Madeline worked her jaw, but no answer was forthcoming.

“You do know he's going to try again, don't you?”

She did know and she had no earthly idea what she was going to do about it.

Russell's first day at Stone Cold Records bordered on being an out-of-body experience. Media outlets and curious onlookers surrounded the Manhattan building, making it nearly impossible for the stretch limo to pull up to the front door.

Overwhelmed, Russell stared out of his tinted windows and wondered if he was truly ready. He had no clue on what to do. Was everyone expecting him to say something, or make a speech? He scanned the eager faces, hoping to spot his brother, his life raft, in the crowd.

“Is there a problem, sir?” the driver asked.

Russell swallowed and cleared his throat. “It sure is a lot of people,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” the driver agreed. “Maybe it would help if you just pictured everyone in their underwear.”

“Does that really work?”

“No time like now to find out.”

Russell chuckled. “What's your name?”

“Dennis Cameron,” the young man said, and smiled as if no one had ever asked him such a simple question before.

“Hi, Dennis.” Russell stretched his hand through the divider. “Russell Stone.”

“Yes, sir. I know.”

“Actually, I'm still trying to get used to the name.”

Dennis nodded like such a thing happened all the time.

Russell scanned the crowd again. “Just picture them in their underwear, huh?”

“That's what they say.”

Drawing a deep breath, Russell reached for the door. “Well, here goes nothing.” He opened the door and a chorus of, “Mr. Stone. Mr. Stone, over here,” surrounded him.

Camera's shuttered and a startling amount of lights blinded him.

“Mr. Stone. How are you adjusting to your old life?” a female shouted.

“About as well as to be expected. I'm taking everything one day at a time,” he answered.

“What about Lola Crowne? Do you remember what happened to her?”

Russell turned toward the woman who'd voiced the question and wished like hell he had a better answer than the one he was about to give. “I have no recollection of what happened to Ms. Crowne. I wish I did. I'd like nothing more than to be able to offer her family closure.”

“Mr. Stone. Mr. Stone,” the chorus started up again. This time the questions were hurled simultaneously and at lightening speed.

At last, Christopher parted the crowd and rescued Russell with a magnanimous smile. “That's enough questions for now, guys. You already have my brother here looking like a deer caught in headlights.”

Laughter rippled around him while Christopher took hold of Russell's elbow and led him through the front doors. However, another crowd of people awaited him inside the building.

“There's no easy way to do this,” Christopher said. He turned to their audience and said, “Everyone, you all remember Russell. Russell this is the staff.”

Russell smiled awkwardly with a brief wave. “Hello, everyone.”

“Welcome back, Mr. Stone,” they shouted in sync, and then exploded with applause.

Russell laughed and tried to relax. It probably had more to do with Christopher being by his side than anything else. He shook hands with a few people and retained only a couple of names. All in all, people tried not to stare, but in the end it seemed they couldn't help themselves.

Christopher did what he could to make things easier, cheesing and telling corny jokes; but nothing really worked. Russell still felt like a fish out of water.

“I figured tonight we could head over to the club, Xotic,” he said, walking Russell to his old office. “We have a CD release party. Good time for you get to know one of our artists.”

“Tonight?” Russell asked. “Tonight is not a good night.”

“You have other plans?” Christopher laughed.

“Well, I was hoping to take Madeline and the kids to see
The Nutcracker.
”

“
The Nutcracker?
”

“Well, yeah.” Russell laughed awkwardly. “Ariel said a few of her friends were going and she looked so cute so I—”

“I understand.” Christopher pushed open a door and gestured proudly to the room's startling grandeur. “Here's your old office.”

It looked more like a penthouse apartment, Russell thought as he entered, his feet sinking into the plush, carpet. One wall of the office was a breathtaking gold-and-bronze water fountain, on the other end a gigantic aquarium with a multitude of colorful fish. There was also a magnificent view of the Manhattan skyline. In between were such toys as a handsome billiard table, minigolf putter, a glass bar, leather sectional sofas, huge stereo system and a…steel pole of some kind.

“You like?” Christopher asked, hope ringing in his voice.

“It's…interesting. Where exactly is the desk?”

“Well, uh, the desk thing wasn't exactly your style. Too structured, you used to say.”

“So I played pool and practiced my golf swing all day?”

“Not exactly. Your toys loosened you up, got your creative juices flowing.”

“I see,” he lied.

Christopher smiled. “Anyway, if there's anything else you can think of that you'll need, your new secretary, Glenda, will be sure to get it for you.”

Russell nodded, still looking the place over, this time taking note of the large plasma television hanging from the wall.

“You know, I wish you would really reconsider going to the party tonight. The media following you around would be an extra push for the group.”

Swimming through a sea of photographers again held zero appeal for Russell.

“Even a walk through would do. Thirty minutes, an hour tops,” Christopher pleaded.

“I don't know,” Russell hedged. “I should call Madeline and—”

“Madeline, eh? What, is she wearing the pants in the family now?”

Russell frowned.

“Sure. Sure. I understand. You two, uh, get back together yet? You know, hooked up?”

Brother or not, Russell wasn't comfortable discussing the intimate details of his marriage.

Christopher's head rock back with a hearty laugh. “I didn't think so. Maddie can be a cold bitch when she wants to be.”

Russell's smile melted and steam blew out of his ears. “Let's get one thing straight. You don't talk about my wife like that.”

Christopher tried to laugh it off, but Russell's expression grew harder by the second.

“All right. All right. My bad. I'm sorry.”

Russell nodded, but his expression remained cold.

Christopher glanced at his watch. “We have a lot of meetings lined up for the rest of the day. Why don't you give Madeline a call a little later?”

Ariel looked like a Christmas present in her red velvet dress and her thick hair pulled back and tied with a silver bow. Madeline had never seen her daughter fret so much in front of the mirror, but the child was determined to look good for their first official date out with her father.

Russ, on the other hand, whined and complained for having to wear a suit for the night's show.

“What time is Daddy going to make it home?” Ariel asked for twentieth time in the last five minutes. “The show starts at seven-thirty.”

“I know, honey,” Madeline glanced at her watch, thinking they were going to be late if they didn't leave in the next five minutes.

“Momma, can I at least wear my Nikes?” Russ asked, fingering his collar.

“Fine. Whatever.” At this point, she didn't care if her son wore cowboy boots.

The house phone rang and Madeline's gaze cut toward it, her heart filled with a sudden dread. A second later, Consuela appeared at the doorway.

“Mrs. Stone, your husband is on the line.”

“Daddy?” Ariel asked, turning her questioning gaze toward her mother.

Madeline stood with her new silver cane and hobbled to the phone. “Hello.”

“Madeline,” Russell yelled over hard pounding music. “Thank God I caught you. Look, something has come up. I'm stuck a CD-release party.”

“You don't say?” Madeline's shoulders deflated as she shook her head.

“There's no way I can make it to the house in time. Why don't you guys go ahead on over to the show and I'll meet you there?”

Madeline turned her back in a vain attempt to block the conversation. “You
promised
Ariel,” she hissed.

“And I'll be there,” Russell insisted.

“Yeah, right.” She slammed down the phone and muttered a curse under her breath. Looked like Russell Stone had reverted to his old ways of lying and breaking promises.

“Momma?” Ariel tugged on her arm. “Where's Daddy?”

R
ussell cursed under his breath and pocketed his new cell phone. He knew before he made the call that Madeline was going to be mad, but there was nothing like hearing her disappointment. Though he didn't remember what their previous life had been like, his wife never missed an opportunity to point out he'd been a lousy husband. Since his return, he'd vowed to be a better husband and father. Heck, he vowed to be a better man all around.

However, this was a challenging feat in the music industry. Beautiful women with barely there clothes and high heels filled Club Xotic. In the hour, Russell turned down several numbers, advances and offers for quickies, blowjobs and hand jobs.

He was definitely not having a good time.

Christopher, on the other hand, seemed to be in his element. Russell watched his brother pocket phone numbers, boldly rub up against a few barely legal women and even disappear a time or two. Each time he returned, he wore a bigger and brighter smile.

“Come on, bro. Relax,” Christopher commanded, ordering two drinks from a passing waitress. “This is a party, remember?”

“Yeah, look. I need to get out of here. Madeline is pissed.”

“When isn't she pissed?” Christopher laughed.

Russell flashed him a look of warning and his brother quickly apologized.

“I'm sorry. I know you're trying to do the whole ‘family guy' thing and that's admirable, but I miss our old hanging days, scoring with the ladies.”

“I'm sorry, but I don't think that's really for me,” Russell said.

Christopher's boisterous laugh drew more than its share of curious glances. “Please. I know you aren't getting any at home. Madeline kept those legs locked so tight it's a miracle you even have children.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Probably. But that doesn't change the facts,” Christopher said.

Their drinks arrived and Christopher left a Benjamin Franklin on the waitress's tray with the order to, “keep the change.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stone.”

Christopher flashed her a cheesy smile and watched her thick booty sashay away from the table. “Now, you can't tell me that you wouldn't like to tap something like that.”

Russell followed his gaze and had to admit the woman certainly curved in all the right places.

“Uh-huh. I thought so.” Christopher shared a knowing wink with his brother before taking another sip of his drink. “Like I said, relax and pick out something nice and curvy. And don't worry about Madeline. She's not going anywhere.”

“What do you mean?”

Christopher shrugged. “I mean just that. As long as the money is good, she's not going anywhere.” He drained his glass and his smile slid uneven. “Now that you're back, your ironclad prenuptial agreement is back in effect. I already talked to our family attorney. The moment you walked back into our lives, Madeline's pockets grew considerably lighter. If she walks out, she loses everything, and a woman like Madeline would rather suffer in silence than become penniless.”

Russell slumped back in his chair as Stone Cold artist, King Royal, took to the stage. He thought back to when he brought up the subject of divorce to Madeline and how she never answered the question. At the time, he thought her avoiding the question was a reason to give hope for a reconciliation—a chance to start anew.

Now, he didn't know what to think.

The New York City Ballet's performance of
The Nutcracker
was indeed a vision to behold. Ariel sat at the edge of her seat, her eyes following every graceful movement of the dancers. She gasped during the adventures through the Land of Snow and then the Kingdom of Sweets. However, long before “Clara” battled the Mouse King, Russ had leaned against Madeline's arm and dozed off.

“Mommy?” Ariel whispered. “Do you think Daddy's annameseah got him lost again?”

“I don't know, baby.” Madeline smiled and gave her daughter's hand a reassuring pat. When Ariel returned her attention back to the stage, Madeline returned to grinding her teeth and cursing out her husband in her head.

Six years ago, she was the only one who suffered through Russell's broken promises. He'd even missed Russ's first birthday party, but her son was too young to remember that. The point was she wasn't looking forward to a lifetime of explaining and mending her children's broken hearts because their father will always have better things to do…and other women to do them with.

“Daddy!” Ariel exclaimed in a loud whisper.

A few audience members shushed the six-year old, but to Madeline's surprise, Russell settled into the seat next to his daughter and delivered a quick kiss against her upturned cheek.

“Sorry I'm late.” He glanced over the top of Ariel's head and met Madeline's startled look.

Madeline turned away and tried to act indifferent, but she was doing a lousy job. Seconds later, the house lights came up and Russell groaned.

“Did I miss the whole thing?” He glanced at his watch.

“No, silly,” Ariel teased. “It's intermission.”

He sighed with visible relief. “Oh, good. Are you enjoying it so far, pumpkin?”

Ariel gave an enthusiastic nod and moved to sit on her father's lap. “Did you forget where we were?”

“No, baby. Uncle Christopher and I had a release party to attend. I left as soon as I could. I'll try to do better next time.”

“It's okay. At least you made it. I don't think Mommy thought you would.”

Madeline sucked in a small gasp. Betrayed by her baby.

“Is that right?” Russell questioned. “Well, it looks like she was wrong, doesn't it?”

Ariel dutifully bobbed her head.

“And don't you look beautiful tonight.” He complimented his daughter. “Stand up and twirl around so I can take a good look.”

Giggling as she leapt up from her father's lap, Ariel spun around like a miniature supermodel and basked under her father glowing praises. Try as she might, Madeline could no longer suppress the smile tugging at her lips.

Russ slept through intermission and the entire second half of the ballet, but his eyes still lit with joy when it was time to file out of the theater and he saw his father was part of the group.

“Dad, you came. Mommy didn't think you would.”

Madeline groaned; traitors surrounded her.

“So I've heard.” Russell laughed and ruffled his son's head. “We better get going, we still have reservations for dinner.

Madeline's night went from bad to worse. Not because Russell turned out to be an ass, but because he wasn't. In fact, he seemed to go out of his way to be the perfect father, doting and spoiling the children. The problem was he also went out of his way to ignore her.

He wasn't rude about it, but she still felt invisible. Why hadn't he commented about how good she looked or tried to make her laugh? And when Ariel expressed an interest in going ice-skating at Rockefeller Center, everyone seemed to forget that she was operating with just one good leg.

“If you want to go skating then that's what we'll do,” Russell declared, and then turned to her. “We'll let Dennis take you home and then come back and get me and the kids.”

Madeline blinked. She wasn't imagining things. He didn't want her tagging along. “Well, I don't mind going.”

“Momma, you can't skate on a bad leg,” Russ said as if she didn't realize the obvious.

“I know, but—”

“And you're in a gown,” Ariel added.

It was official. None of them wanted her around.

“I do have, uh, an early meeting in the morning,” she agreed, blinking back tears. “I guess I should crash early.”

“Then it's settled,” Russell said with a tight smile, and then returned his attention to the children.

At Rockefeller Center, it took everything Madeline had not to beg to tag along as part of this bonding experience. But in the end, everyone filed out of the limo without a backward glance.

“I'm losing my babies,” she whispered as Dennis pulled away from the curb.

“Ma'am?” Dennis asked.

Madeline shook her head and wiped the tears from her face. “Nothing,” she mumbled.

During the long ride back home, her emotions swung from anger, hurt, jealousy and annoyance. What right did Russell have to brush her aside? She hadn't done anything to him. What happened to their truce?

The house seemed eerily quiet and way too empty. She wondered if she would actually be able to get to sleep. Showering was an adventure with her cast foot, but afterward, she donned a lacy silk number and paced before her window waiting for Russell and the children to return.

“What if they like him more than me?” The question draped around her like a depressing blanket. Look what he'd been able to accomplish in such a short time.

Then something else occurred to her. What sort of custody battle should she expect when it came time for her to file for divorce?

The old Russell would have been too busy partying to fight for full custody. This new Russell just might give her the fight of her life.

“Damn it!” She turned from the window. “Why didn't I think of this before?” Was that why he'd mentioned divorce this past weekend? Why had he asked about why she'd married him?

Christopher.

She nearly laughed when his name floated across her mind. Her brother-in-law had not been pleased with Russell Stone's will, making her an equal partner in Stone Cold Records. If anyone would be happy to get rid of her, it would be him.

She turned from the window with her cane and marched to the guestroom Russell was staying in. It was one of the larger rooms but as far as she could tell, he wasn't using up too much space.

In the closet, hung a few suits, undoubtedly what Christopher leant him, and at the bottom of the closet was an ugly leather duffel bag. She pulled it out, her mind awhirl with what secrets she'd find. At this point, she welcomed anything that would give her a better insight to her husband. As weird as that sounded.

But there was no jackpot to be found. All that was inside his duffel bag were a few jeans and T-shirts. There was a folder from the Shaw Agency with pictures and bios of each member of the family, but other than that, nothing.

Madeline sighed for coming up empty, but then heard something else in the bag. She picked up the bag, shook it and then commenced digging through the side pockets to get to the mysterious item. When she at last spotted a hole in the lining, she dug a finger inside and caught hold of a…ring?

“Madeline?”

Madeline jumped at the sound of Russell's voice and dropped the duffel bag back onto the bed.

Russell looked at her and then to the bag. “Mind telling me what the hell you think you're doing?”

“I was just, uh, I was just looking around,” Madeline confessed the obvious.

“You mean, you were snooping,” Russell corrected, moving into the room. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Madeline reached for her cane and walked around the bed. “You can't blame me for being curious,” she snapped.

“Can't I?”

“No.” She stopped before him, reveling in the kinetic energy pulsing between them. “You moved into my house—”

“Our house,” he said, interrupting her.

“And despite the fact of you looking and sounding like my husband. You sure as hell don't act like him,” Madeline said.

“That's supposed to be a good thing, right?”

“No…yes…I don't know,” she finally settled on saying. “It's just freaking me out. Okay? And don't think I don't know what you and Christopher are up to.”

Russell eyed her suspiciously. “I'm almost afraid to ask.”

“Oh, don't play dumb. It doesn't become you.” She headed for the door, but Russell's large hand wrapped around her forearm.

“Humor me and tell me what you're talking about.”

“All this talk about why I married you and that little divorce bomb you dropped on me the other day. You rise from the dead and in ten days you want a divorce?”

“I never said I wanted a divorce.”

“You've been thinking it, or what was up with you ignoring me all night?”

“I didn't…Well, I haven't exactly been feeling that you
want
to be married to me. I mean, we do sleep in two different bedrooms and you go out of your way not to be alone with me. Unless, your being in here in a sexy negligee is leading to some sort of peace offering?”

“In your dreams, Russell.” She finally mustered the strength to jerk her arm from his grasp.

“Madeline,” he called softly, and waited for her to face him again. “In the past we might have agreed to a loveless marriage, but I won't agree to it this time around.” He moved toward her, letting his words sink in. “We can stay together during the holidays, but if starting over isn't something you can do, come January one of us needs to file for divorce.”