Chapter 1

Cutting off the scream, Camelia was jolted from her sleep and the nightmare that had taken hold of her.

With the moans strangled inside her throat, she managed to fight the pressure pressing down on her chest as she clawed her way out from a deep pit, she felt the walls closing around her. Sitting up, she dragged air into her lungs and reached over to switch on the lamp.

It was back. The therapist had warned that she would probably be facing something like this when she returned, and the woman was right. Her throat was parched, and she was trembling. Closing her eyes, she took several breaths to compose herself.

A lone reporter had cornered her on her way from the market to try and revive a story that was no longer of interest to the public.

Too many things had happened since her life had been overturned and demolished, and she had scathingly told the pathetic little man that. No one cared what had happened twelve years ago, except the people who were left behind.

Swinging her legs off the bed, she dragged her fingers through the tangle of thick dark brown hair. She wondered vaguely why she had not done her usual nightly routine by brushing it thoroughly and wrapping it into a bun. It would be hell to deal with in the morning.

Reaching for the silk robe, she wrapped herself and belted it before going into the bathroom. She was about to fill the glass with water when her reflection caught her attention, and she stood there examining her features.

She was beautiful because her mother had been an exquisite beauty who had taken Hollywood by storm. Her complexion was a mixture of coffee and heavy cream. Her forehead was high, her nose small, and her lips full. Lifting a hand, she spread her fingers over them, dark brown eyes shadowed as memories came flooding back.

"You are certainly not a poet," she remembered saying that teasingly.

"Just because I compare your lips to ripe plums. Well, they are."

"Surely, with all the tutoring in English literature, you could do better than that?"

"I am a jock, and if the other guys hear me spouting nonsense about your lips and the texture of your skin, they are going to boot me off the team."

"Which one?" she had asked him laughingly. "You are on so many of them, Hayes Marsden."

"You are one to talk. You are the overachiever. And I don't see why you bother with them all since we both know you are going to follow in your dad's footsteps,"

The tears came and she blinked them back furiously. It would not do to have the memories, any of them coming to the surface. She was back because her aunt had decided that it was time to come back.

"We have been hiding far too long now, darling. The entire nasty deal happened over twelve years ago, and people have moved on to other, more juicy stories."

Shaking her head, she finished the water and stepped away from the counter. She was going to pick up the pieces of her life and try to find some semblance of order to it. After years of therapy and telling herself that it was all in the past. She was ready.

Going back inside the bedroom, she climbed back into bed and pulled the sheets over her. She was going to be editor for a society magazine. It was not ideal and was nothing more than tabloid gossip, but it had a wide range of readers, and she had been given carte blanche to include more human interest pieces.

A love story here and there. Happenings on the artsy side of town. Jackson Colby had even agreed to an interview and for photos to be taken of his latest pieces. She had a feeling he had only agreed out of pity, but she did not care.

If she was going to get her life back, she was willing to take any handouts she could get.

She was going to try and stay away from Hayes, but if she happened to bump into him while on an assignment—her heart shuddered at that. She had no idea what she was going to do. She hadn't thought that one through completely.

He was almost engaged. She had read that in one of those gossip columns, and she was happy for him, or at least, that was what she was telling herself.

No doubt he hated her, and she couldn't blame him. But she could not allow herself to dwell on that either.

She also would not dwell on the fact that she had gone from being a society princess to just a normal girl with a horrible past behind her. She was still alive and healthy—it could have been worse.

Switching the bedside lamp off, she slid down onto the pillows and tried valiantly to go to sleep.

*****

Hayes looked up at the knock on the door, a smile curving his lips as the wraithlike woman slipped in, a searching look on her lovely face.

"I am just about through. I know I missed dinner, but I had to get this out of the way. The acquisition of Southern Airlines is quite a coup. Dad would have been proud."

"He would have been." Hillary Marsden walked over to his desk to perch a hip on the edge. "You work too hard."

"I am CEO of a vast corporation, one that has been unfortunately thrust on me by Dad's sudden demise." His green eyes studied her face. "Mother, I wish you would take a trip or do something fun. It's been two years, and you are still grieving. I loved him too, but we have to move on."

Hillary touched his handsome face gently, her expression one of indulgence. "You are one to talk. You are working yourself into the ground in order to prove yourself to him." "I am not–" He shook his head and leaned back in the chair, a rueful expression on his face. "Is it that obvious?"

"To me, yes." Clasping her hands together in her lap, she stared at them for a minute and wondered if she should bring up the subject. But it was best to get it out in the open.

"I was at a charity luncheon this afternoon."

"Yes?"

Lifting her head, she gazed at him for a few seconds. "She is back, darling." She did not have to call any names. He already knew who the "she" was. And he had been bracing himself for the news.

"It doesn't matter," he said tightly. Pushing back his chair, he strode over to the window to stare sightlessly at the water shimmering from the reflection of the pool.

He had intended to take a swim before he started working on the contract but had wanted to finish everything before retiring for the night. "I doubt I will be seeing her. After what happened to her parents and her subsequent disappearance. I'll be staying far away from society."

"She is the editor for Elegance," Hillary told him, referring to the wildly popular magazine that had taken the market by storm a few years ago.

"Tabloids." His lips curled in disdain. "Not what I would have expected of the girl I knew back then. But so much has changed, hasn't it?" Turning to face his mother, Hayes summoned up a smile to hide the turmoil that had started in his heart. "I am fine. Camelia is my past. I am on the verge of asking Simone to marry me."

It should have been good news, and some that she had been waiting for, but Hillary knew her son and knew better than most what had happened between him and Camelia. She had warned him to slow things down, but he had been wildly in love, and nothing she had said to him had made an impression.

She and his dad had barely managed to persuade him to wait until they finished high school and college before he made a decision he might regret. He had been so much in love with her that she had controlled his very existence.

Everything had been about her, and they had spent every moment together. When she was not here at the manor, he was at her place. Her parents had hardly been home, which made it all the easier for her son and their daughter to have a place where they could be alone.

And she had been the one to pick up the broken pieces of his life when she had been swept off to Europe. He had not cared about the scandal and had wanted to be with her so that he could comfort her. What had almost destroyed him was the fact that she had left without saying goodbye and cut off all communication with him.

He had begged them to let him put off going to college so he could search for her and had spent six months wandering all over Europe in his quest to find her. It had taken years for him to recover—to get over her—years he had spent doing therapy and almost failing his courses.

Camelia DeWinter had almost destroyed him, and Hillary did not want her coming near her son again. If she had to use her considerable influence, she was going to see that happen.

"Would you mind closing the door on your way out?" he asked quietly. "I have to finish going over this contract before I present it to the board tomorrow."

Rising gracefully, Hillary struggled to hide her worry and turned to leave the office.

"I will send a maid in with some refreshments."

"I am not hungry."

"You might be later on." She bolstered up a smile. "Do it for me."

He watched her leave and went back to the thick dossier in front of him, but the words soon merged into each other, and he could not concentrate. Pushing the document away, he picked up a paperweight, an exquisite crystal in the shape of a bird, and rolled it between his palms.

It had belonged to his dad—in fact this office was where he had spent his time after coming home. It was where Hayes had sat in the corner reading his book while he glanced with pride at the man seated behind the baronial desk.

His father had been his hero, and for a very good reason. Johnathon Marsden had been an excellent father and husband.

No matter how busy he was, he would find time for his only son. He and his wife had had a very hectic and busy schedule, but that had not hindered them from attending every single activity he was involved in, and they had been numerous.

"You are so lucky," Camelia had told him wistfully. "My parents are never around. Yours are super rich, and yet they still find time for you."

He had teased her by saying that when they were married, his parents would become hers. Setting the paperweight down, he pushed back his chair and strode over to the recessed cabinet.

Touching a button, he selected an age-old scotch and poured a generous amount into the glass, strongly doubting it would be enough to drown the awful memories.

*****

"My dear," Celeste bustled into the office with her usual flair and efficiency of movement, her expensive perfume trailing behind her. With her red hair piled on top of her head and peaches and cream complexion glowing from her hour at the spa, she beamed at the young woman seated behind the modest looking desk.

"What do you have for me?" Stretching out long fingers—with the nails painted a vermilion red, she glided forward. "I was there with the lovely Gerard—"

She perched on the edge of the desk, blue eyes gleaming. "Gerard pretends that he is French, and I indulge that thinking because, poor darling, he spent three months in Paris and picked up the accent, not much, mind you.

Not like you, who are utterly fluent in French, Spanish, and Italian." She gave Camelia an appraising look, admiring her flawless complexion and the exquisite bone structure.

Camelia DeWinter might have scandal cloaking her, but the woman had survived a nasty situation and still managed to look as classy as they come. She was cultured and knew more about art and antiques than anyone Celeste had ever come across. What was more, she could write.

Whenever she composed a story about anything, be it waxing about the edifying information about finding and identifying the proper soil or a man and a woman caught up in the throes of an unfortunate liaison, she made the story riveting and captured her audience by the way she told it.

She had asked for a rather large compensation package, and Celeste had balked at the idea, but Camelia had panache, and spending twelve years in Europe had given her plenty. She was also not one to talk about her feelings.

Who could blame her? Celeste mused silently. Having your father murder your mother and then turning the weapon on himself would be enough to silence anyone.

"Nothing yet."

"Darling–"

"I am finetuning the piece I am doing and you promised to leave me in peace to do as I wish."

Lifting her head from the topic she was doing, she aimed a cool glance at the woman. Celeste had offered her a job, a badly needed one at that, but she was not about to bow down and allow herself to be walked on.

"I did." Celeste sighed in her usual dramatic manner. "Your aunt warned me against pushing you."

"I did, too, remember?"

"Of course. Ah well. I will just have to wait and see what you come up with." Turning away, she headed toward the door. "By the way," turning back, she sent Camelia a catty look, "have you seen Hayes Marsden since your return?"

It took every ounce of will to remain impassive. "No. Why?"

"Just wondering. I know you two were hot and heavy back when you were teenagers.

He is on the verge of getting married, did you know?"

"Good for him. I need to get back to this."

"Of course. Open or close?" She nodded to the door.

"Close, please."

Camelia waited until the door closed before pressing a hand to her stomach and taking several breaths. It could not be avoided; mentions of Hayes would be coming at her, and she was going to have to learn to deal with it. She was also wondering if she did the right thing coming back to a place where it had all happened in the first place.

*****

"Dear, this is indeed a surprise!" Ignoring the others in the room, Simone flew into his arms. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"And ruin the surprise?" he teased, kissing her on the lips. "I was a few blocks away and decided to stop by." Hayes looked around the conference room at the men gathered there. "Have I come at an inopportune time?"

"You know Daddy is away for a week, and he left me in charge of the museum. An expected shipment somehow got delayed, and we are trying to find out what went wrong. Tucking her hand through his arm, she led them out of the room.

Pushing the doors open to an elegantly appointed office, she let go of his arm and turned to face him. "You seemed troubled."

His thick blonde brows lifted in amusement, a smile curving his lips as he stared at the petite brunette. He was with Simone because she had accepted when they first started out that he had had his one true love and was not looking to be in that awful position again.

And he admired her wit and ability to converse with even the dullest of his business associates.

"I had no idea you had psychic powers," he murmured. Turning away, he walked over to the desk to pick up a paperweight he had given her some time ago. "It's just business," he added briefly.

"And business has never bothered you this way before." Simone knew she should drop it and had to acknowledge, if only to herself, that that woman coming back was giving her shivers of fear. Hayes never talked about her, and she had been wise enough not to press, even though she wanted to. "I know she is back–"

"That has nothing to do with me or you." Turning around to face her, he sent her a look that warned her to drop the topic of discussion.

"Like I said, I was in the neighborhood and decided to drop by." Shooting back the cuff of his immaculate ash-gray jacket, he looked at the time. "I have another meeting in a few minutes. I take it we are still on for the gallery opening?"

"Would not miss it for the world." Simone carefully hid the flicker of anger flaring up.

"Seven, isn't it?"

"Yes." Walking over to her, he pulled her into his arms for a brief kiss before letting go.

"See you then."

Simone nodded and waited until he had closed the doors, before going around to sit behind the desk. She had known what she was up against when she started going out with Hayes Marsden. The rumors had been difficult to ignore.

Over the years, he had not stayed with a woman for more than two months, and everyone knew why. That awful scandal, the way he had chased after her when she left and what had almost been a nervous breakdown for him—the press had salivated over what happened to both families over twelve years ago.

The stories had fed the public's appetite for basking in celebrities' misery for years. A story that had the much-needed elements to keep their interests alive. Sex, murder, a love triangle gone wrong, and a couple who had been living above their means for years.

But Simone had been determined to be different from the women he had been with before, so she had played her cards carefully.

The Marsden were a powerful family who had been in the airline industry for several hundred years. She knew he would not love her the way he loved that woman, and it galled her to realize that she was his second best.

But she was determined to get him to marry her and had been subtly pushing him toward a proposal since last month. But now Camelia DeWinter was back, and the fear was that he would be tempted to be with her again. Simone could not afford any such thing.

*****

"Hon, I wish you would reconsider staying in that dreary little house. I know you love your independence, but still, it is so much nicer here."

"And several miles away from the magazine," Camelia reminded her as she bent to kiss her unlined cheek. "I love my space and dreary house or not, it's mine."

Angela waited until she took a seat on a chaise across from her before she continued, "I am not so certain we should have come back."

Camelia poured a glass of lemonade and took a sip before addressing her "You said we had to, and besides, it was time."

"Yes." The woman waved a long-fingered hand in dismissal. "But the rumors are already starting up again."

"There is nothing we can do about it."

Stubbing out the flavored cigar that was a fondness of hers, Angela felt her heart trembling inside her chest. "Your father, my brother, was a damn fool. He was weak and easily led. Carla led him through the nose. He was obsessed with her—an obsession that was unnatural."

She glanced at her niece. "One that you no doubt experienced yourself—with that Marsden boy. I begged my brother to intervene when you started seeing him. But he was too wrapped up in your mother to be a parent."

"I really don't want to talk about any of that," Camelia told her firmly. "Auntie, I love you and am grateful for what you did for me, but if you are going to revisit the past, then I am leaving."

Angela smiled at her whimsically. "You are so beautiful. Carla was lovely, but she lacked your strength of character, your innate ability to stare adversity in the eye and walk all over it.

You deserve some happiness after what you have been through darling, and I had hoped sincerely that you would have found it with one of those eager gentlemen in Europe."

"I am not interested in romance. At least not now."

"I saw his mother."

Camelia went still at that. "I see."

"Yes. Hillary was quite distant and polite, and she made it plain that she does not want a reenactment of what went on with her son."

"Then in that, we are in complete agreement."