Page 91 of I Would Beg For You
Life settles around usin the weeks after. Naomi has been slowly finding her bearings in the house, a firm favorite with Ina and Carlito, and my siblings have warmed up to her. Franco calls regularly to chat with her, and Francesca has brunch with her every week. Victor is still on his retreat—we did get a text congratulating us, though.
Her biggest fan, though, is Luka. It sounds like ‘Zia Na-mey’ whenever he calls her, unable to pronounce her name properly. I came home from Brighton Beach the day after our wedding to find the two of them in a big armchair, Luka asleep in her lap.
It did something to me, seeing her with a little child cuddled to her. A vision of our own son or daughter in her arms…
I shake the thought away. We’ve only just gotten married; let’s at least find our footing in that endeavor first before thinking of kids and the future.
And speaking of the future, right now, it’s taken the form of Joel Smith.
Naomi woke up on our first night here after hearing the commotion outside. She’d gone to bed all tense and worried,the shadow of the house next door looming over her. I knew what was going to happen that night, but I didn’t say anything, waiting to see how it’d all play out.
My men didn’t disappoint me. At five minutes to midnight, a spark ignited from a power surge in the study. Papers caught fire, then the whole house did, seeing as there was no one there to put a stop to the flames once they started roaring.
Our bedroom window lit up with an orange glow as the house across our yard burned to the ground, firemen making a valiant effort to save it, then figuring out the best thing to do was to contain the blaze so nearby houses wouldn’t be affected.
Naomi got up, stepped to me in front of the window, and I wrapped an arm around her as we watched the house, she grew up in burn down.
“Is he in there?” she asked at one point.
“No.”
I’m not that reckless, plus I want to see the man go down. In flames, yes, but not literally.
My wife stayed silent for a long moment, then she said something I had a hard time understanding at first.
“Burn it all down,” she said.
And that’s exactly what I’m doing.
Anya Brennan is still on Joel Smith’s staff. No one suspects she had a hand in getting Naomi out, or that she’s working for Declan Reeves. So, the best bet for all of us involved in this move to take down Smith was to leave her there to work her brand of destruction from the inside.
Rumors started to fly a week ago as to how Naomi Smith is not really enjoying a spring break in Paris as her father has led the world to believe. Anya didn’t need to say more. The best rumor hints at something, and those who grab onto it will do the rest. Wild assumptions to full conspiracy theories burgeoned online and trended on hashtags.
Today, news of Pineridge’s closing is hitting the news…and Joel Smith’s name has been linked to it. Someone online unearthed how he’s a good friend of one of the mental institution’s biggest donors. Anything to spin a piece of news into the current spotlight, and what best than politics to stir the pot and create a splash? I sometimes think politicians are worse off than pop stars in this country, the way their every move is scrutinized.
I’m all for fighting my enemy in the field, getting my hands dirty so to speak, but Reeves is showing me a whole other level of the game, and I have to say I’m finding it rather enjoyable to toy with my enemy just by pulling some strings.
Social media is fighting this battle for us, it appears. I’m waiting for it to blow up entirely, biding my time to throw oil on the fire and revive the flames that will scorch Joel Smith and burn his career down to a crisp.
We got Naomi’s permission for the next move, and she even gave us her blessing. I’m waiting with bated breath for when Anya, posing as a troll on an incendiary social media platform, will drop the tidbit suggesting Joel Smith had his own daughter committed against her will at Pineridge.
Teagarden_01:Proof he isn’t just the friend of a major donor #pineridge #joelsmith
Attached is a snapshot of Naomi’s admission papers, clearly showing who her next of kin is and thus the person committing her to a seventy-two-hour psych hold.
There! The internet erupts.
I barely have time to watch what happens as there’s a knock on the door of my study.
“Yes?”
Carlito pops in and closes the door behind him. “Someone to see you, boss.”
I frown. I’m not expecting any visitors.
“Who is it?”
When he tells me, I can feel my eyes grow wide. I bypass him and step out, heading to the foyer where my visitor is waiting.
