by Joanna Shupe
She used to find those qualities appealing. Now she wanted steady and reliable. Predictable and boring. Someone who didn’t lie to her at every turn.
And Calvin was a habitual liar. He manipulated facts for a living, twisting the truth in the papers to suit his whim. No wonder Lily had been duped back then, fooled every bit as easily as his readers today. She hated the shame that came with knowing he’d bested her, broken her heart, and moved on. The worst part was that she’d actually held out hope for months that her father had been wrong. That Calvin would return. That he had truly loved her.
Idiot.
Calvin stirred, his long body shifting under the covers, and she held her breath, waiting, as he slowly regained awareness. His lips parted on a groan, lids fluttering. “Christ,” he whispered, and for the second time that day she watched as recognition dawned in those bright blue eyes. “You shot me.”
“My driver shot you, just as I said he would if you tried to escape. Why didn’t you stay put?”
He exhaled and closed his eyes. “I see you’re still attempting to control everyone and everything around you, just like your dearest daddy.”
“Not that it works with you, because you’re always trying to get away from me.”
“As if I had a choice,” he muttered under his breath.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I want to leave, Lily. Let me up.”
“No. I need you to help me locate Tom.”
His lids popped open at the same time his brow lowered. “Your brother? Where is he?”
She shot him a wry look. “Obviously I don’t know where he is. He was supposed to arrive at the mine in South Dakota and never appeared. No one has seen or heard from him since he departed from Grand Central.”
“He’ll turn up.” He yawned and then grimaced. “Dear God, I’m sore. Where’s Hugo—”
“Calvin, pay attention. My brother is missing and I need your help.” She slapped the piece of parchment on his chest. “Here, read this.”
“Lily, I cannot help you. I have three papers to run—”
“Between visits to your opium den. Yes, I understand you’re quite busy and I am telling you, you will help me or I will put this pillow over your head and smother you in your sleep.” A small smile twisted his lips, one incongruent with her threat, and she gritted her teeth. “Am I amusing you somehow?”
“This has been the least amusing day of my life, let me assure you. Kidnapped, shot at, held prisoner . . .” He chuckled. “Well, put like that, it does remind me a lot of my twenty-first birthday.”
“Oh!” Disgusted, she stood and spun away from the bed, muscles shaking with the need to strangle him. This is for Tom. Your younger brother and only sibling. She drew in a deep breath and tried to regain her balance. What was it about this man that upended her so easily?
The sheets rustled behind her and she found Calvin struggling to sit up. “Lie down, you idiot. My physician will be here soon and—”
“Where did you get this?” He held up the note she’d tossed at him a few seconds earlier, his expression strangely serious. The parchment contained rows of Chinese characters along with her brother’s name—and Calvin’s. “This note was delivered to you?”
“Yes,” she snapped. “That’s why I’ve been trying to find you. It has something to do with my brother, but I cannot read Chinese. You lived in Hong Kong, so I’m hoping you can decipher it because it also arrived with a picture that no one else can see—”
He cut her off with a dry laugh. “Your brother’s as good as dead.”
Dread slithered along her spine to curl around her ankles. “Why do you say that? What does that note say?”
“It’s not a love letter, that’s for certain. It was written by Wah Lee.” When Lily’s expression didn’t change, he added, “Of the On Leong tong.”
“I don’t know of whom you are speaking. Is he a businessman of some kind?”
Calvin pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I forgot how sheltered you are. Lee is Chinatown’s premium purveyor of vice. Opium, gambling, women . . .”
“Fine, but what does that have to do with my brother?” Tom never dabbled in anything riskier than sailing the yacht on a cloudy day. The two of them had been close over the past few years, and he was not involved in anything unsavory or scandalous. He liked parties and sailing. Horse racing. Soon he would take over Davies Mining and assume responsibility for their father’s business.
“I have no idea,” Calvin answered through another yawn. “I didn’t read the note, only saw who it was from.”
“Well, do you know this Mr. Lee personally?”
“Of course I know him,” Calvin said, a hint of affront in his voice.
Lily recognized the stupidity of the question. As the publisher of two large newspapers in the city, he was undoubtedly acquainted with everyone worth knowing in New York—no matter on which side of the law one stood. “So will you speak to him to find out what he wants with Tom?”
“No, I shan’t. I’m afraid you’re on your own.”
* * *
Calvin watched with avid interest as anger built up like steam inside Lily—and then it happened. A flush stole over the creamy skin of her cheeks and neck while a hot spark blossomed in her light brown eyes, turning a merely beautiful woman into a stunning, luscious creature. His skin prickled with a familiar primitive instinct, one that awakened every prurient thought in his aching head.
Lust unwound inside his gut. Four years ago this conversation would have had them lunging at each other, tearing at clothing on the way to bed. It had been a familiar pattern during their short acquaintance, him needling her, riling her. Hoping to light a fire he could then touch and taste, a searing heat that would burn the two of them together. One that might finally satisfy the emptiness inside his chest . . .
He’d never had a woman like her, not once in his twenty-seven years. Strong, stubborn, and entirely unafraid, Lily challenged him at every turn, her tongue as sharp as a blade. She’d burrowed under his skin like a parasite—one dangerous to mankind. In a matter of weeks he’d fallen hard and pressed her for marriage, foolishly trying to hold a moonbeam in his hands for all eternity.
In the end there hadn’t been anything but attraction between them—nothing lasting anyway. And Calvin didn’t make the same mistake twice, not if he could prevent it.
It doesn’t matter what you did in the past. You can only change the future.
His parents had said it often and the idea had stuck. So he wouldn’t help her—even if he could forgive her for taking her father’s place on Pulitzer’s board. Which he didn’t foresee happening. Ever.
Calvin hardened his expression, tamped down every bit of softness in his soul, and waited.
Lily’s hands found her hips, her willowy form vibrating with fury. “What do you mean, I’m on my own? Your name is also in that note. These men must have something to do with Tom’s disappearance. What if he’s been hurt? I need to find him, and you are going to help me, so help me God, Calvin. After all that happened between us, you owe me.”
He wasn’t going to touch that one. “I don’t need to do a damn thing but go home and bathe. Then I need to visit the office and see how much damage has occurred in my absence.” He rose and faced her squarely—and the room spun. He clenched his jaw and fought for composure, swaying a bit. Do not faint, Cabot. Unfortunately, he leaned toward her, upon which the hint of something—some dark emotion—flickered in her eyes. Her lips parted on a shallow breath, eyes locked on his mouth.
He froze, uncertain, while his mind raced. Had she thought him about to kiss her? Had she wanted him to kiss her? She still hadn’t moved, their bodies only an arm’s length apart, and he didn’t know what the hell to do. Right then, kissing her seemed like the worst—and best—idea in the world.
When she suddenly stepped away, Calvin felt even more off-balance. Jesus, this woman. Hot, cold, up, down . . . A man needed a map to figure her out.
She moved to the end of the bed and wrapped her hands around the wooden footboard. “You know Chinatown. You know this Mr. Lee. Your name is in the letter, too. I don’t see why you refuse to help me.”
“No matter how much you plead, cajole, or threaten, I cannot run hurdy-gurdy through the streets of Chinatown on a frivolous chase for your brother.”
“It is not frivolous!” Her eyes glistened, and he feared she might actually cry. He’d never seen her cry, not even at her father’s funeral. Yes, he’d attended, sitting in the back as an anonymous observer in the name of his papers, watching as the bastard was laid to rest. He hadn’t approached either Lily or her brother that day and slipped out, unnoticed. No doubt the deceased Davies was currently in Hell, trying to strong-arm the Devil into installing an icebox.
“He’s my brother, Calvin,” Lily continued. “I have to help him.”
“Fine, so help him. Hire an investigator—hire fifty investigators. You can afford it. And it’s not like you have an aversion to tracking people down when they prefer to be left alone.”
“I did hire investigators—and they couldn’t find him in New York or at the mine. I pulled them from the case when I received Mr. Lee’s letter.”
“Well, you don’t need me. Hire a translator and go visit Wah Lee yourself.”
“This might change your mind.” Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew a folded photo and carefully flattened it. When she held the photo up, he frowned.
A marriage license. He peered closer. Sure enough, there was his name right next to Lily’s. “Where did you get that?”
“This came with the letter. The one from Wah Lee.”
No longer amused, Calvin snatched the letter off the bed, ready to pay closer attention. Why the hell was Lee digging into Calvin’s background? How had he learned of the marriage? And what did all this have to do with Tom Davies?
Though his written Cantonese was rusty, Calvin studied the characters carefully this time, intent on deciphering the entire message.
Miss Davies:
Your brother, Tom Davies, has taken my most precious possession.
As I have not been able to locate him, I must impress upon you the importance of the safe return of this item. Your brother must bring it to me before the end of the month or I will be forced to reveal news of your marriage to all the newspapers not owned by Calvin Cabot. Would you truly want the world to know you were once married to a man who lies for a living, spreading falsehoods each time he publishes a paper? I believe you do not know the depths to which he lies, most especially to you. Perhaps I could enlighten you, when you produce your brother.
Wah Lee
“Shit,” he muttered. Lee obviously hadn’t cared for the stories running in the Mercury, the ones exposing the seamier side of Chinatown. Lee hadn’t been called out by name in the articles, but anyone with half a brain would recognize the identity of the nefarious Mr. L—. Regardless, Calvin could not risk Lee telling Lily anything. She would gut him with a jagged, typhoid-infected knife if she ever learned of all the things Calvin had kept from her.
“What? What does it say?” Lily peered at the parchment in his hand. “Is it about Tom?”
“Yes. Tom has taken something belonging to Lee, so Lee is demanding your brother’s presence. News of our marriage will be leaked if Tom doesn’t show up before the end of the month.” Calvin translated the note, leaving out the parts that pertained to himself.
“The end of the month? Goodness, that’s only six days from now. I don’t know if I can produce Tom in that amount of time.”
“Then you’ve a real problem on your hands.” Striding to the gilded velvet armchair, he lifted his discarded frock coat and shook it out. Brick dust swirled up into the air. He shrugged on the coat and quickly tucked the note into his pocket.
“Don’t you mean we have a real problem on our hands?” She waved the photo. “Or did you forget about this?”
“I didn’t forget.” He shot his cuffs and smoothed his vest. Calvin would deal with Lee in his own way, one that had nothing to do with Lily’s brother.
“This is why I cannot hire more investigators. The marriage cannot become public knowledge. Nor do I want anyone else to find out Tom’s missing, not if he’s in some sort of trouble.”
“Yet you’re informing the publisher of three newspapers,” he said dryly.
“A man,” she snapped, “who is equally invested in keeping our marriage a secret.”
He was, but not for the reasons she assumed. His need for secrecy was tied up in a promise he’d made years ago. If this got out, it would ruin everything for Hugo.
All this didn’t explain why Lily was so certain of his feelings on the subject. “What makes you think I want to keep it a secret? Maybe I don’t care who knows we were married.”
“If you felt that way, you would have revealed it before now. Think of all the papers you could sell.”
His eyes narrowed at the jab. He would never use his past with Lily to make a quick buck. “Turns out I have principles, after all. And I’m afraid you’re on your own.”
Ignoring the way she gaped at him, he strode toward the hall. He needed to clock in a few hours at the Mercury offices. Three days was a long time for a publisher to be absent from his desk. God only knew what had occurred during his latest bout with malaria.
He turned the knob and started to open the door—and an unholy crash shattered the silence. Porcelain exploded on the wall next to his left ear, raining fragments everywhere. Calvin cringed, covering all his important body parts, before glancing over his shoulder. Red-faced and breathing heavily, Lily’s eyes burned into him. “You used to have better aim,” he drawled.
“I missed on purpose, you idiot! Do not dare leave until we’ve reached some sort of agreement about Tom.” She snatched another porcelain figurine and cocked her arm. “This one will hit you square in that thick skull of yours if you don’t hear me out.”
“I’ve already heard all you have to say.” He folded his arms across his chest, attempting to control his body’s predictable reaction to her animosity. No matter the reason, he had to ignore the sparks jumping between them. They could not be more ill-suited for each other, even if he had risen a few stations since their marriage. “You should take your problems to Joseph Pulitzer, considering you two are old chums.”
“You don’t care if Tom dies? If word of our brief marriage is revealed?”
It didn’t escape him that she’d ignored the crack about Pulitzer. “No, and no.”
“Well, I care. There are people in my life who would be terribly hurt by news of our marriage. Not to mention what the Davies Mining board of directors would say about such a scandal. They barely respect me as it is.”
“Those sound like your problems, sweetheart, not my problems. I wish you luck.” Yanking open the door, he stepped into the hall, expecting a mighty crash when she let loose with the other figurine.
Instead, he heard her voice, strong and clear. “I hate you.”
This was not even back-page news, but the irritation in her tone caused him to smile all the same.
“I know,” he called, and then disappeared from her life a second time.
* * *
Calvin whistled as he navigated the Davies mansion, feeling better than he had in eons. Arguing with Lily was more enjoyable than he remembered.
Their first argument had been in a small garden shed in the rear of the Davies property, the perfect illicit hideaway for a mostly chaste rendezvous. After three trysts he’d proposed, certain this woman was the last he’d ever want. But their notions of a wedding had been vastly different....
He stretched out on the blankets covering the tiny patch of shed floor. “Lily, I’m not ashamed to marry you. Let’s do it properly, in a church in front of witnesses.”
She propped her hands on his chest and placed her chin on top. Her gaze narrowed. “If you are implying that I am ashamed to marry you, then you could not be more wrong. I am eag
er to marry you. In fact, I don’t want to wait.”
“Eloping seems so . . .” He struggled to find a word. “Won’t you regret it? Not having your father at your wedding? Or your brother?”
She dragged a bare hand over his stomach, petting him affectionately. His neglected erection throbbed and he nearly begged for her to slide her hand lower. Only he’d promised himself he wouldn’t defile her until they were married. But God, how he longed to defile her. She kissed like a courtesan and had a body built for sin. Every second with her was exquisite torture.
“No,” she was saying. “All I need is you. Besides, my father won’t return for months. Do you want to wait that long?”
Christ no. He’d recite the vows right now if a parson somehow appeared inside the shed. Still, this didn’t feel right.
“I think you’ll wish you’d married in a church. Years from now, when it’s too late.”
She pulled away slightly, a crease forming between her brows. “Are you trying to tell me how I feel? You’re arguing with me as if I’m too silly or innocent to know my own wishes.”
“Not silly or innocent. More like naïve.”
Eyes flashing, she rolled off him and came to her feet. “Naïve? I’m naïve because I’m the woman and you’re the smart, worldly man who gets to make all the decisions?”
And so it had gone for some time. She’d been glorious, shouting at him in all her feminine outrage. He could still picture it, her breasts heaving, skin flushed a pretty pink. The temperature in that shed had shot up rapidly . . . and he’d broken his promise. Defiling had never been so damned fun. Which meant Lily had received her wish for a speedy elopement.
Calvin dragged a hand down his jaw, trying to ignore the hollow ache inside him. Dredging up the past served no purpose. There was no going back for either of them.
A hack waited in the street. Calvin strode over and hoisted himself up. Hugo quickly followed inside and the wheels started turning, taking them downtown. “What did she want?” Hugo asked.
“Her brother’s gone missing. She wants my help in locating him.”
