The Darkest of Shadows (6 page)

“When exactly is this event?” I asked cautiously. A large part of me thought this was a bad idea.

“Tomorrow night.”

Oh, it was
that
event. His schedule didn’t actually say “Monterey’s bash,” although the name should have given it away for me. The function he was referring to was the Christmas Party for Monterey Enterprises, our biggest competitor, actually one of the biggest and most successful companies that existed. I didn’t know a whole lot about them, but from what Patrick had told me, everyone stepped very carefully around them.

Lawrence Monterey was a force unparalleled in business. His net worth was estimated at well over fifty billion dollars, and that was the bottom of the scale of what they could determine.

“Ah.” I interpreted his hesitation. “Monterey Enterprises.”

“Yeah. Them,” he admitted. “It’s really important that we don’t offend him; hence, it’s important that we attend—but we also have to stay out of his notice as much as possible. We really don’t want to draw too much of his attention at the moment, not if we can avoid it.”

That was an unusual comment. “Meaning what, Patrick?”

Patrick shot me an almost amused glance. “It’s easy to forget how clearly you see situations,” he said.

“What’s going on?” I encouraged him to continue.

“We’re more vulnerable than we should be at the moment,” he admitted.

“We, as in the company?”

“Cartright and Nagel.” He nodded. “Our GM is ready to retire, he’s old, and it’s been his plan to step down for a long while now. But with Lincoln’s death, his plans have gone to pieces. He has to sell. Simple as that. We took a hit with the Harbor project in Belgium, confidence in the company fell…it was inevitable, I suppose, but for it to happen all at the same time has seriously weakened our global position, and Monterey is exactly the type of person to take advantage of that. If he doesn’t offer to buy the company outright, I wouldn’t be surprised if he forms a takeover bid. He’s very good at what he does, and I have no doubt that he knows exactly what is happening with C and N. The less attention we draw to ourselves in his presence, the better for everyone.”

“So you need someone responsible to sit beside you and show a solid base for the company.”

“Pretty much.”

I knew Patrick was under a lot of strain—his role was diverse and complicated—but I had no idea that he was also battling to keep the company together. “Is it that bad?” I asked.

“Not at the moment,” he replied. “But it all pretty much depends on what old Parsons ends up doing.” He shrugged, looking defeated. “We can only advise him so much, but ultimately the final decision will be his.”

I’m not sure I would have said yes if Patrick had just asked me to attend a work function with him. But as with most things in my life, this wasn’t a normal situation, and somehow I heard myself agreeing to go. “I’m going to have to leave early tomorrow,” I told him, as I prepared to leave that evening. “Attending a black-tie function takes more than a few hours to prepare for.”

“Take whatever time you need,” he agreed.

I’m not quite sure any man actually comprehended how much effort it took for something like that. I had spent most of the afternoon organizing hairdressers and waxes, and that’s before I spent half the night shopping for the right dress. You didn’t show up to a Monterey function dressed in your Sunday best. You dressed to impress, and it had to be a high-end fashion label. I was inordinately glad that I had a fairly extensive nest egg as I trudged up the stairs to my unit with my new Gucci dress. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to wear it again, but I couldn’t find it in myself to regret the purchase. It was a stunning creation of pure white that hung to the floor, with a small train that swept the ground behind me as I walked. The cut was elegant and classic, with crossed folds of material that swept across each breast and over my shoulders and back before twisting around my waist, creating a very feminine shape.

I was surprised to find myself extremely nervous the next morning at work. Patrick seemed as unruffled as always, but the butterflies in my stomach were causing me an inordinate amount of grief.

“I’m going now.” I stuck my head in Patrick’s office to let him know I was leaving.

He rose and crossed the room to the door. “I’m sorry you have to do this,” he told me. “I know how much you hate social events.”

I smiled at his hesitancy. “I’m kind of excited actually,” I assured him. “Besides, it’s a work function, and I’m not going to know anyone there, and it’s unlikely I’ll ever meet them again, so I think I’ll be fine.”

My smile must have encouraged him, because he relaxed a little. “OK, then. Well, I’ll pick you up at your place at six o’clock.”

“I’ll be ready,” I assured him, and with a final wave to Sally, who was seriously glad it was me going and not her, I headed off to be made beautiful.

I asked the hairdresser to keep the style simple; the dress was the focus, not me. So she swept it loosely up behind my head and left tendrils of it to float around my face. They also took care of the makeup, giving me a smoky, sultry, dark-eyed look, so it was probably a strange sight when I caught a taxi back home—half of me looked amazing, the other half was seriously underdressed.

I had just enough time to snap a quick photo off before my phone buzzed to let me know that Patrick was waiting down stairs for me.

Living on the first floor had some advantages, but one of those wasn’t the stairs. It was a slightly precarious trip down the narrow stairs in heels, carting a train and a clutch, but I did manage it.

I passed one of my neighbors just before I stepped out the front door, a husband and his wife—whom I’d never gotten around to meeting—and if their rather stunned expressions were anything to go by, I must have looked half decent.

Patrick was standing beside the town car when I emerged. “Good evening.” I smiled happily at him.

If he hadn’t already been pressed against the side of the car, I was pretty sure he would have fallen over. He looked startled and astonished and, thankfully, speechless.

The gift and the curse of how one looked. Once, I would have been happy if a man had given me that reaction, but now it just tended to leave a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. They could never accept that I wasn’t interested, and it always led to more pain, usually more for me than them.

But this was Patrick, and he knew that I couldn’t give him what he wanted; and for tonight, he had asked for my support. So as long as he stayed beside me to keep the unwanted company away, I could manage to give him the picture-perfect partner that he wanted.

“It’s all an image, Patrick,” I reminded him seriously. “I need you to understand that what you and everyone else will see tonight is only possible because, for me, it isn’t real. As long as you stand beside me and keep people from thinking that I’m in any way available, then I’ll be able to keep playing the person you need for me to be.”

“I think, sadly, that I actually understand that mumble,” he said, as he held the door open for me. “You’re rubbing off on me, Lilly, and I should most probably be disturbed by that.”

“As long as we’re all clear on what’s really going on, I don’t mind what image other people see.” Especially when I didn’t know them, and it was unlikely I’d ever meet them again.

“I’ll keep the masses from bothering you, and you’ll fill the adoring partner role that I need for the night.”

“Something like that, but there probably won’t be all that much adoration.” I smiled to lighten the mood.

“You’ll need this.” He shoved a box into my hands. “It’s nothing,” he told me quickly. “It’s not a birthday present or a Christmas present; it’s a ‘we’re going to a really ritzy party and you’ll need to look the part’ gift, so here’s something to help with that.”

I held my breath as I took in the splendor of the diamond earrings. They were long filigree and would look stunning with the dress.

“If it makes you happy, you can give them back to me at the end of the night, and I’ll give them to my sister.” He shrugged. “Although I really don’t think she would appreciate them as much.”

I laughed aloud. “Oh, no,” I told him. “You can’t give a girl diamonds and then ask for them back.” I liked how he had phrased it. Any reference to a gift given for an event would have instantly had me return it, but this way I was free to accept them willingly. And besides, they were beautiful.

“You’ll keep them?” I think I shocked him.

“Absolutely. They’re beautiful,” I assured him as I slipped them onto my ears.

“They suit you.” And that was all he said about how I looked. He really was beginning to understand me, as much as was possible anyway.

There was quite an extensive line of traffic snaking its way toward the entrance of the hotel that was hosting the Monterey function. It was one of London’s finest, and I was sure it was costing them a fortune. It was funny to find myself one of the people along for the free ride—not that I’d be indulging in the alcohol, but there would be food, which made me just as happy.

Patrick helped me out of the car when we reached the steps, and even though I knew it was coming, it was still difficult to not pull away when he placed my hand upon his arm.

“Sorry.” I shrugged, then with more determination, I steadied my hand and kept it there.

“Don’t make more out of this than exactly what I’m saying,” he warned. “But I’m proud to stand beside you tonight, Lilly. Not only do you look amazing, but you’re one of the only women I know with the brains and the balls to stand next to the men in this room and converse as their equal.”

Without waiting for my answer, he swept us up the stairs and into the world of high-flying international business. The who’s who of world economics roamed within the four walls of the hotel that night. Lawrence Monterey drew a crowd, and it was an impressive one.

Patrick, for C&N, was a big player, but compared to the dynamic men who sauntered around the room, he was a contractor on their payroll. We were little fish in a huge ocean, and these men…they were sharks that could eat us alive.

In this room, class distinction ruled. There was a very definite pecking order of things, and those with the most power ruled. It was like a private gentlemen’s club. There was a main room, loaded with people, tables, and entertainment; but off to either side of that were private gatherings. Sheltered lounge areas where God-only-knows what negotiations were happening. These were invitation-only gatherings, and if you were unsure about your required attendance, the line of security standing sentry between the main room and the private lounge areas were indication enough that you weren’t to approach unless you were invited.

I laughed aloud as Patrick steered us down the left side of the room toward one of the many bars.

“What?” he asked.

I grinned wickedly at him. “Don’t you find this ostentatious?” I asked in amusement. “It’s so…I don’t know, Godfatherish!”

“That isn’t a word, Lilly.” But it did manage to lighten his mood somewhat. He had been tense since we neared the hotel, and I hated to see him that stressed.

“’Course it is. Besides, who’s to say otherwise?”

He shook his head. “You’re crazy, you know that?” he asked.

“You have no idea.”
Seriously!
“But really, don’t you think this is just that much overdone?”

Patrick glanced around, almost like he was seeing the room for the first time. “It is very…serious,” he agreed.

“Stuck up your ass, serious!” I assured him. “Let’s get a drink before I give into the temptation to see how good those security guys are at keeping the unruly on the right side of the line.”

This time Patrick laughed. “Lilly, you are one original woman.”

“Don’t ever forget it.”

We finally reached the bar, which, thanks to the continually rotating waiters with trays of drinks, was relatively free of guests. It was only for specific orders, like my mineral water, that one would have to venture to the bar. Patrick got our drinks, and we settled to ambling casually around the room.

“So, what’s the actual plan for the evening?” I asked.

“Stay out of trouble, and leave as early as we can manage,” Patrick shrugged.

“Good plan!”

“It’s the best I can come up with,” he said.

“It’s a boring plan,” I retorted.

“It’s a safe plan,” he insisted.

“Safe, shmafe!”

“What?”

“Never mind,” I replied. “Seriously, though, if all we’re going to do is walk around this room for the next few hours, you might have to resuscitate me fairly soon, ’cause I’m going to die of boredom.”

“You’re here to look pretty, not to have an opinion,” he joked, with a wicked grin.

“I didn’t realize being a ditzy blond was part of the job description. Damn, I’d have asked for more money if I’d known.”

“I might let you have a dance later,” he offered. “Would that keep you happy?”

I shrugged. “I’m not very good at dancing.”

“What are you good at?” He was enjoying the banter; it wasn’t something I usually did with him, but for some reason tonight, possibly because I’d convinced myself that it wasn’t real, I let some of my old self out.

“I’m good at a whole lot of things,” I teased.

“I can only imagine.” He whistled gently.

We passed the next hour in casual conversation, the occasional flirty comment thrown in just to confuse him; but not surprisingly, our presence didn’t go unnoticed. As the evening wore on, more and more people stopped to talk to Patrick. I tried to stay out of the conversations, arm candy didn’t have an opinion, and that’s what I was tonight.