Authors: Julie Ortolon
“Actually,” he said with calculated slowness, “now that I’ve had a moment to consider, discovering you’re involved with the man could work to our advantage.”
“Excuse me?” She blinked.
“Yes.” A smile thinned his lips. “I’ve been thinking, you’ve grown into an attractive young woman. I’m sure you can figure out a way to
persuade
him to drop his claim.”
The words slammed into her, making her gape. Had her grandfather just asked her to whore herself for the family? Why wouldn’t he, though? He’d done the same thing to his daughter.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a small, soft voice at odds with the hurt ripping through her. “I won’t do that.”
“I believe your mother explained the situation to you.” He cocked a menacing brow.
“Yes, sir.” She glanced sideways and saw Diane had gone pale except for two splotches of defiant color on her cheeks.
“I expect you to do what you can to reverse our current circumstance.” John’s eyes narrowed. “Do I make myself clear?”
The words
Go to hell
stuck in her throat. She would never use sex to manipulate a man for any reason, but saying that to John meant walking away and never coming back. “Very clear.”
“Good.” He smiled, obviously mistaking her words for agreement. “In the meantime, we need to stick with the current plan. Much as it galls me to have that man’s accountant pawing through my business, we need to keep Harold happy. I expect you to do your part.”
“I came, didn’t I?” Chloe pointed out.
“Yes, but I haven’t seen you talk to the man once this evening.”
She swallowed hard. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Good.” John nodded. “See that you do.”
“Yes, sir,” Chloe said in as civil a voice as she could manage. As he walked away with that regal poise of his, she wanted to scream defiance at his back. Or draw a sword and challenge him, like she would in a Vortal world. Real life wasn’t that easy, though. Every choice had consequences.
“Well.” Diane exhaled audibly, massaging the base of her throat. “I should probably mingle, before the dragon lady visits us as well.”
“Probably,” Chloe said woodenly.
“Thank you again for being here,” her mother said, her eyes earnest. To Chloe’s surprise, Diane squeezed her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
As her mother moved off, once again the effervescent hostess, Chloe’s heart ached on her behalf.
Rather than approach Harold right away, she rejoined Luc. He managed to distract her so thoroughly with talk of Vortal that an hour passed with surprising ease. Finally, though, she noticed Harold standing off by himself, watching the party with a look of detached amusement. Deciding she’d rather get her duty over with on her own, she told Luc she’d changed her mind about wanting to eat, and asked if he’d bring her a plate.
“Of course,” Luc said, and headed for the buffet.
Steeling herself, she approached Harold.
“I haven’t had a chance to congratulate you,” she said, dredging up her best smile.
“Ah, Chloe.” He beamed at her. “This party is so packed, I was beginning to think I wouldn’t get a chance to talk to you.”
“As long as you’re having a good time, that’s what matters.”
“Bah.” He waved the notion away. “A lot of things matter more than having a good time, but your grandparents have their own ideas about how things should be done.” He shifted so they stood side by side, facing the party. “Diane’s getting through it well, though, so that’s good.”
His comment confused her. Even though she knew Diane was stressing out, she expected Harold to think his fiancée was having a great time. Her mother certainly played the part of the happy bride-to-be as she flitted about the party, the quintessential guest of honor. Sneaking a peek sideways, she wondered if it was possible that Harold saw through Diane’s act to the truth.
If so, why was he going through with this?
“I’m sorry to hear you can’t stay for the wedding,” Harold told her.
“Yes, well, I have obligations back in Galveston,” she said. Even before she’d known what was going on, she couldn’t have brought herself to attend. The urge to warn this obviously nice man away from marrying her mother built in her chest, but the ramifications of that stopped her.
She needed to say something, though. Harold deserved to hear one honest thing spoken from her heart before she left. Turning to him she said, “I want you to know, I really do wish you every happiness.”
Harold studied her from beneath his dark brows. “You are one sharp cookie, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I appreciate your concern, and your discretion in not voicing it,” he told her. He glanced down at his drink, then back up, into her eyes. “I promise you, though, everything is going to work out just fine for your mother and me.”
“I—” She blinked, wondering what to say. “I hope you’re right.”
He nodded. “You’re thinking about your mother’s track record. Don’t. There’s a big difference between me and, well, the others.”
She gave him a puzzled frown.
“I ain’t much to look at, and I don’t go in for fancy things, but I know how to make her happy.” He pointed toward Diane with the hand holding his cocktail. “They didn’t.”
Chloe nearly told him her mother wasn’t capable of being happy. Not really. Diane had moments of delirious joy, but an emotional crash always followed on its heels. Then she remembered the blush on her mother’s cheeks, and thought maybe Harold knew more about making Diane happy than any of them suspected.
“I want to tell you something,” Harold said, lowering his voice, “but this needs to stay between you and me. I ain’t going into any of this blind. I’m doing it because I realized the moment your mother walked into John’s office that the LeRoche Shipping Company wasn’t the only thing that needs saving.”
His statement, so simple, slammed into Chloe like a hammer blow to the chest. The revelation stunned her, and it planted a seed of hope in her heart. She wanted to tell him that, but her throat closed tightly, and she couldn’t have spoken even if she’d known what to say.
“I hope you’ll have a little faith in me to give your mother what she needs.”
Blinking furiously, all she could do was nod. Thank goodness she’d shifted her back to the crowd so no one could see her face. She barely managed to force words past the tightness. “What about you, though? If you know what you’re getting into, why are you doing this?”
“Are you kidding?” He grinned. “I’m getting Diane.”
Chloe’s eyes widened. Did he not understand what life with Diane would be like?
“I want to tell you something,” he said happily. “Beneath all the layers of drama and insecurity, your mother is an amazing woman. She just needs purpose, and I’m the man who can give it to her.”
“I hope you’re right,” Chloe said. As far as she knew, her mother’s purpose in life had never extended beyond shopping and flirting.
Harold chuckled. “You should have seen Diane the day she helped me reopen the Two Sisters’ Bakery. Hoo, boy, she may have gone into the project grumbling and complaining that no one could redesign a pastry shop on the budget I gave her, but once she took on the challenge, she knocked it out of the park. Nothing less than I expected. What got me, though, was how humbled she was when the owners heaped her in gratitude and praise.” He shook his head, as if words couldn’t describe the moment, but the pride in his smile spoke volumes. “That’s the woman I knew was in there. And that’s the woman I’m marrying. I have no doubt she’ll put me through hell while she discovers who she can be, but she’s worth the wait. Besides, this deal comes with a bonus.”
Chloe shook her head, unsure what he meant.
“You.” He nodded at her. “I know we’ve barely had time to get to know one another, but I’ve got me some keen eyes in my head. I like what I see, Chloe Davis. Your mother ain’t the only woman in this family with the potential to do great things.”
Chloe pressed a hand to her mouth as tears spilled past her lashes.
“Oh, and now I’ve made you cry.”
“It’s, it’s—” She wanted to say it was okay, but it was so much more than okay. She wanted to hug him, but feared she’d blubber all over his shoulder.
“Hang on,” he told her, his gaze going past her. “Here comes your boyfriend. I’m sure he’ll know how to take care of those tears. He looks like a real nice young man, by the way.”
“Hey, Chloe, here you go,” Luc said as he joined them, holding a plate piled with food. When he saw her face, his smile dropped. “Are you okay?”
She nodded yes, then shook her head no.
“What’s wrong?” Luc glanced from her to Harold, straightening with accusation.
“I think,” Harold said to Luc, “you two could safely slip out of here without anyone noticing. Chloe put in an appearance as she was ordered. Mission accomplished.”
She jerked in shock. He knew about that?
He smiled at her kindly. “There’s no need for you to stay any longer.”
“Th-thank you,” she managed, mouthing the words more than saying them.
Luc left the plate on a table and led her inside, past the library full of people, and into the hall where they were finally alone. “Chloe, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just…” She looked around at the pristine, white house and felt cold inside. “I really don’t want to stay here tonight. Could I stay with you?”
“Are you kidding?” He looked at her like she was crazy. “Of course.”
“Okay.” She swallowed a teary hiccup. “Just give me a minute to grab a few things.”
Chapter 20
On the drive home, Luc tried again to find out what was wrong. Chloe shook her head every time, keeping her face turned toward the side window. As if that would hide the fact that she was crying. While she made no noise, her anguish seemed to fill the car. She held her whole body rigid, as if letting out a single word would split her apart and whatever pain she held inside her would all come spilling out.
The question was, what had set her off?
She’d been doing well up until he went to get her some food. The next thing he knew, she was standing before Harold, looking as if the man had just destroyed her world.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Look, I don’t know what Harold Bradford said to upset you, but if I need to turn this car around and go punch him, I will.”
“No,” she said, sounding surprised. “It’s not like that.”
“Then tell me what he said.”
Once again, she shook her head and looked away.
He wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but couldn’t while he was driving. Instead, he bided his time until he got her to Vortal Headquarters. Grabbing her overnight bag, he led her inside. The glow of lights coming from rooms on the second floor told him Zeke and Martin were pulling a late nighter, but they would be too caught up in their work to notice him coming in with an emotional Chloe.
Reaching his apartment, he nodded toward the sofa. “Have a seat. I’ll get you something to drink.”
He removed his jacket before pouring them each some bourbon over ice, remembering to add a splash of cola to hers. He carried the drinks to the sofa and held hers out.
“Here you go,” he said, sitting beside her.
“Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely. Her hands shook as she took the glass and drank.
“Talk to me, Chloe,” he urged quietly. A strand of her hair stuck to her cheek, so he brushed it away. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t know where to begin.” Her grip tightened on the glass.
“What did Harold say to upset you?”
“He didn’t upset me.” She finally looked at him and her lips trembled with a smile. “He said something that made me hope.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He’s so unexpected.” A look of awe came over her face. “He makes me believe that so many things I’ve wanted desperately for years might be possible.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“It’s a miraculous thing!”
“Then why are you crying?” He brushed away her tears with his thumb.
“Because…” Fear lined her face as she searched his eyes. “What if I believe? What if I t-trust? And it all falls apart?”
“Oh, baby.” Setting their drinks aside, he drew her into his arms and held her tightly, his cheek pressed to the top of her head. He wanted to tell her everything would be fine, but meaningless reassurances never helped. “I don’t know. I don’t have the answers for you.”
“I want to believe,” she whispered against his chest. “But I’m so scared. I feel like I’m coming apart inside.”
He tipped her chin up so he could see her face. “What can I do? How can I help?”
She looked back at him, her turmoil tearing him to pieces. “Help me stop thinking.”
“How?” he asked, knowing he’d move mountains to take her tears away.