Chapter 2 - The Witness
The envelope sat between Trinity and me for forty-three minutes.
Neither of us touched it.
Every few minutes, Trinity glanced at it, then at me.
Eventually she whispered, “Open it.”
“Dakota said not yet.”
Trinity stared at me.
“You’ve spent eight months lying to your wife, but suddenly you’re good at following her instructions?”
I deserved that.
My name is Mason Reed.
At thirty-eight, I was chief operating officer of Bellweather Hospitality, a privately held hotel group headquartered in Atlanta. I had spent fourteen years climbing from financial analyst to the executive floor.
I was good at numbers.
Better at negotiations.
And apparently spectacular at destroying my own life.
Trinity Cross had joined Bellweather eleven months earlier as an outside branding consultant.
Our affair began three months later.
At least, that was the story I told myself.
A mistake that became another mistake.
A dinner became drinks.
Drinks became a hotel room.
The hotel room became lies.
Eventually lying became so ordinary that I stopped noticing when I did it.
I told Dakota I was working late.
I told Trinity my marriage was practically over.
Neither statement was true.
Dakota and I had problems, but she had never stopped trying.
I had.
That distinction suddenly felt enormous.
The seat-belt sign turned off.
I unfastened mine.
Trinity grabbed my wrist.
“Where are you going?”
“To talk to my wife.”
“You mean the wife you told me was preparing divorce papers?”
I froze.
“I never said she was preparing papers.”
“Yes, Mason. You did.”
I remembered immediately.
A hotel in Miami.
Trinity had asked whether Dakota suspected us.
I told her Dakota had emotionally checked out and divorce was inevitable.
It had been easier than admitting I was sleeping with another woman while my wife still left coffee waiting for me every morning.
I pulled away.
“Stay here.”
Dakota was in the forward galley arranging glasses.
She didn’t look up when I entered.
“We need to talk.”
“We really don’t.”
“What’s in the envelope?”
“You’ll find out in Florence.”
“Why Florence?”
That made her look at me.
For the first time, the calm disappeared.
Something else lived beneath it.
Pain.
“Because you chose Florence.”
“I didn’t know you were working this flight.”
“I know.”
“How long have you known about Trinity?”
“Long enough.”
My stomach dropped.
“Dakota—”
“Go sit down.”
“Please.”
She lowered her voice.
“There are two hundred and six people on this airplane. I am responsible for their safety. I will not let your panic interfere with my job.”
I had never heard her speak like that.
Not because she was cold.
Because she was finished protecting me from consequences.
I returned to my seat.
Trinity had moved to the window.
“What did she say?”
“Nothing.”
“That woman definitely knows something.”
“That woman is my wife.”
Trinity laughed once without humor.
“Interesting time to remember.”
Before I could answer, a man stopped beside our row.
Gray suit.
Silver hair.
About sixty.
I recognized him instantly.
“Mr. Holloway?”
Nathan Holloway was Bellweather’s outside counsel.
He was supposed to be in Atlanta.
He looked at the envelope.
Then at me.
“Mason.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Going to Florence.”
“Why?”
Nathan’s expression tightened.
“For the board meeting.”
I stared at him.
“What board meeting?”
Now Trinity turned around.
Nathan looked genuinely surprised.
“You weren’t informed?”
“Informed of what?”
He hesitated.
Then his eyes moved to Trinity.
Recognition flickered across his face.
“Ms. Cross.”
Trinity sat straighter.
“You know me?”
“I know your invoices.”
The air seemed to disappear.
Nathan pointed toward the empty aisle seat across from us.
“May I?”
He sat.
My heart was pounding.
“What invoices?”
Nathan ignored me and looked at Trinity.
“Did Mason authorize every payment made to Cross Creative during the last eight months?”
Trinity went pale.
“I was contracted by Bellweather.”
“I know what your contract says.”
“What is this?”
Nathan looked at me.
“The board discovered approximately $184,000 in travel, accommodations, entertainment charges, and consulting payments that require explanation.”
My mouth went dry.
“That’s impossible.”
“Is it?”
“I never paid Trinity personally.”
Trinity stared at me.
“You approved my invoices.”
“For legitimate work.”
Nathan leaned forward.
“Then you’ll have an opportunity to prove that.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“In Florence?”
“Yes.”
“Why Florence?”
Nathan studied me for several seconds.
“Because Bellweather’s acquisition of Palazzo Vieri closes tomorrow afternoon.”
I knew the deal.
A $310 million luxury hotel acquisition I had helped negotiate.
“What does that have to do with Dakota?”
Nathan looked toward the galley.
“You should ask your wife.”
Then he stood.
I caught his sleeve.
“Nathan.”
He looked down at my hand until I released him.
“Why is my wife involved?”
He glanced at the sealed envelope.
“She asked me to witness you opening that.”
My pulse hammered.
“You’re the witness?”
“Yes.”
Trinity whispered, “Open it.”
Nathan shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because Dakota gave me very specific instructions.”
I looked toward the galley again.
My wife was calmly serving coffee.
“What instructions?”
Nathan’s answer made my blood run cold.
“That you open it after we land, when someone named Evelyn Vieri is present.”
I knew the surname.
Everyone at Bellweather did.
Vieri.
The family selling us the Florence property.
But I had never heard of Evelyn.
“Who is she?”
Nathan stared at me.
“You really don’t know?”
“No.”
May you like
He looked almost sorry for me.
“Then, Mason, I think you’re about to discover that you weren’t the only person in your marriage keeping a secret.”
