Mogul

by Joanna Shupe

  “Is that all?” She stood and smoothed her skirts, appearing unconcerned with his warning. “Unless there is something else, you should see yourself out.”

  “Lily, you need to heed what I’m saying. Take precautions. I want to hire a Pinkerton to escort you—”

  “Absolutely not. I will not live in fear, having someone following me about.” She unlocked and opened the dressing room door, then disappeared inside. He cursed, hands fisting at his sides. The thought of anything happening to her turned his blood cold. Lee was ruthless; Calvin had seen countless examples of it.

  He trailed her into the dressing room, not ready to give up on making her understand the severity of the situation.

  “Didn’t you hear me? Do you have any idea how dangerous Lee is?” he asked, watching her struggle to remove her necklace. In a few steps he was behind her, pushing her hands away to work on the clasp. “He is not someone to regard lightly.” The clasp opened and he slowly slid the platinum and emeralds over her creamy skin. She gave a small intake of breath before crossing the floor to the dressing table. The necklace rested in his palm, warm from her body, and he held it a little longer than necessary before setting it on the table.

  She took off her earrings and bracelet, each piece of metal clanking on the glass tabletop. “How could there be any danger? Tom does not have Lee’s daughter. My brother doesn’t know anything about her. So how could anyone be at risk?”

  He put his hands on his hips and studied the tips of his shoes, thinking. Why did she have to be so stubborn? Why couldn’t she trust him? Stupid question, Cabot. He opened his mouth to spin a story she’d believe when she cut him off.

  “There’s something you’re not telling me. What is it? What don’t I know, Calvin?”

  “You just need to be careful for the next few weeks, until I can straighten everything out with Lee.” She folded her arms across her chest, thrusting her already spectacular bosom higher. He forced his gaze back to her face. “Please, Lily.”

  “Why?”

  “Why do you need to be careful? You know the types of businesses in which Lee is involved. He can make women disappear.”

  “No, why do you care? Why are you here, warning me?”

  Calvin’s gut churned. He could not give her the true reason, that he still had strong feelings for her. Burned for her with every breath he took, dreamed of her near every damn night.

  He spun toward the window, locking his jaw, clamping down on the words threatening to emerge. Telling her would not solve anything; indeed, it would only make everything worse. She could not know, not until Hugo’s wife arrived safe in New York. Calvin had to honor his promise—and until he did that, he had to forgo his own needs.

  He heard the rustle of silk and then Lily appeared in front of him. So beautiful, this woman. Full lips, irises the color of expensive whiskey. High, aristocratic cheekbones. Milky white skin he knew was every bit as soft as it appeared. But her appeal was far more than her appearance. It was her intelligence, her grace. Her unflinching bravery. She never backed down, a quality he both admired and hated about her.

  And the hope in her stare right now threatened to double him over with pain. This was not yet the time. He’d already revealed too much the other night in Newport. He knew what he had to do, what he had to say, and he might not ever get her back.

  He swallowed the poetry swimming in his head, drowned it with a ruthless pragmatism. We have less so that others may have more. “It would not sit well with my conscience were something to happen to you or your brother.”

  The light went out of her gaze. “Your conscience?” she repeated flatly.

  “Yes,” he forced out. “What other reason would there be?”

  Hurt streaked across her expression before she spun away from him. “Precisely. There is no other reason.” She strode to the bellpull and yanked on it. “You’ve said what it is you came to say. Now, get the hell out of my house, Calvin.”

  * * *

  “Should I be worried about you?”

  Tom lowered himself into the chair next to Lily, the one Monty had recently vacated. They were in the Davies box at the Metropolitan Opera House, the lights having just come up for the first intermission.

  “Worried about me? Why?” She peered through her opera glasses, gazing unseeingly at the crowd. She hadn’t been able to focus on anything over the past week. It would not sit well with my conscience. Shouldn’t Calvin have pretended to care for her, considering her tissues had still been swollen from his invasion?

  She hoped a printing press fell on his head. I should have shot that man when I had the chance. The memory of Calvin’s tumble off the side of the house made her smile.

  “That expression, right there.” Tom pointed at her face. “That is why I am worried, Lily. You have not been yourself since we returned from Newport.”

  “Yes, having one’s brother go missing will do that to a person,” she drawled.

  “You know I’m not referring to that. I’m talking about since we returned—and I am not the only one who is concerned. Cora is worried as well.”

  Her head swiveled and she leveled a glare at him. “You and Cora have been discussing me?”

  He held up his gloved hands. “Merely because we are worried. You’ve been sleeping a lot, and when you’re awake you’re distracted. It’s almost like . . .”

  “Like?”

  He grimaced. “Like after your annulment.”

  Lord, she hoped not. That had been a particularly dark point. Before she’d decided to leave New York, Tom had tried valiantly to cheer her up but she shut him out. Only time and distance had accomplished the impossible—and her heart had healed. She no longer harbored any feelings for Calvin. None whatsoever.

  “I’m fine. You may both stop worrying.”

  “Have you seen him?”

  “Seen who?”

  “Do not pretend with me. You may be able to fool everyone else, but you cannot fool me.”

  She fixed her gaze on the stage. Yes, I saw him. He came to my room, spread me on the bed, and proceeded to pleasure me out of my mind. Undoubtedly, Tom did not want that version of events, yet Lily could hardly forget them. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the rough stretch of Calvin’s entry, the glide of his strong hands over her inner thighs, the scrape of his teeth along her throat....

  She straightened her spine, sitting perfectly still. “I haven’t seen Calvin, if that’s what you mean.”

  “I see.” Tom crossed his legs and smoothed the crease in his black evening trousers. “He still loves you, you know.”

  That caused her to laugh bitterly. “You’re wrong. Calvin loves only himself. He’s the most selfish person I’ve ever met.”

  “I’m not certain that’s true,” her brother said thoughtfully. “Though I don’t presume to know him as well as you do.”

  “Then you should take my word for it. He’s a liar and utterly incapable of loving anyone.”

  “I see,” Tom repeated, as if he’d learned something important. “Did anything occur between the two of you in Newport?”

  “No, absolutely not. Why?”

  “Merely curious. The air crackles when you two are in the same room.”

  “The effort to keep from strangling each other, no doubt.”

  Tom’s gaze swept over the sparse Thursday evening crowd and Lily prayed the topic of Calvin had been exhausted. She was tired of thinking and talking about him. The results were always the same and they left her heartsick.

  “Monty has asked for your hand.”

  Panic of a different sort filled Lily and she swung toward her brother. “He did? When?”

  “Two days ago.”

  “Two days ago and you’re just telling me now?”

  “He asked me not to say anything. Wants to surprise you with a proposal.”

  “And yet you’re disregarding his wishes. Why?”

  Tom reached out and clasped her gloved fingers. “Lily, I’ve known you my entir
e life. You cannot keep your emotions off your face. Which is how I’m certain you’re still in love with Calvin Cabot—and how I’m certain you’re lying to me about something happening in Newport. Monty is a good person, an upstanding man, and he cares for you. However, I fear your reaction to his proposal will not be what he hopes for and I only wish you to be kind toward that end. Have some care. Being in love is terrifying enough as it is.”

  She put aside her shock to say, “You’re in love with someone. Is this why you disappeared in Boston for three weeks? Do I know this girl?”

  His mouth twisted slightly, the smallest hint of pain creeping into his expression. “You do not, but I hope to introduce you soon.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Remember what I said. Be kind to Fields. If you still love Cabot, give Fields a shove. Otherwise, who’s truly being selfish?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The carriage jerked to a halt. Calvin gathered his papers and shoved them into his satchel. He’d been trying to read in the low lamplight of the carriage with marginal success. There was a mountain of work to get through before morning and he possessed a blistering headache. He did not have time for this meeting yet could not afford to miss it. The four men gathered once every month and Calvin had interests to protect.

  A bastion of privilege, the Knickerbocker Club stood tall and proud at the corner of Thirty-Second Street and Fifth Avenue. Calvin did not belong, but both Will Sloane and Ted Harper were members. Calvin, along with Emmett Cavanaugh, was grudgingly admitted this one night a month. Calvin preferred the Union Club, which tended to be a bit more progressive than the Knick, though he didn’t frequent that club often either. Smoking cigars with rich old men didn’t exactly rate as a fun evening, in his opinion.

  He entered, handed over his derby and overcoat, and made his way to the second floor. Staff members scuttled about between patrons, but no one spoke to him. Once on the second floor he went to the private room at the end of the hall. A servant opened the paneled walnut door and Calvin stepped over the threshold. As usual, he was the last to arrive.

  “I apologize for being late,” he told the three men now rising out of their chairs. Handshakes were traded, then Calvin took his seat.

  “I arrived but a moment before you, Cabot,” Cavanaugh said. “So now we may get started.” Emmett Cavanaugh was the owner of East Coast Steel and Northeast Railroads. He had a shrewd mind and an iron will, along with fists as big as mallets.

  A glass of German lager arrived at Calvin’s elbow. He thanked the servant and took a long swallow. When was the last time he’d eaten anything?

  “Everything all right, Cabot?” Ted Harper, owner of the New American Bank, leaned in. “You look a little worn about the edges.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Wouldn’t have anything to do with the bombshell you dropped last week regarding your marriage, would it?” This was from Will Sloane, former owner of Northeast Railroads and soon-to-be United States Congressman. “Ava nearly had heart failure.” Ava Sloane, Will’s wife, was one of Calvin’s top reporters at the Mercury.

  Calvin rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “She wasn’t the only one.” Nearly every staff member at all three papers had been flabbergasted. “But I had my reasons for keeping it private.”

  “An interesting concept,” Cavanaugh drawled around the cigar clamped in his teeth, “since uncovering secrets is your main purpose in life.”

  “Must be why I’m so damn good at it,” Calvin returned. “Because I know everyone has something they’d prefer to keep buried. In my case, I was being blackmailed with that information, so I chose to release it myself.”

  Sloane whistled. “Gutsy to blackmail a man with three newspapers at his disposal. How did Miss Davies feel about all this?”

  “She didn’t have a choice. Now, if you all don’t mind, I’d like to go first tonight.”

  The other men nodded, aware they’d all get a turn before the evening was through. The only way this agreement worked was if all four of them worked together. Sometimes that meant doing favors of a questionable nature. Tonight, however, Calvin had a simple request.

  He picked up his satchel and withdrew multiple sets of one legal document. After he passed a copy to each man, he picked up his lager and allowed them time to read.

  Harper’s gaze widened first. He flipped through the remaining pages quickly. “Transfer of ownership? What’s this all about, Cabot?”

  “It’s in the case of my death.” Setting his glass on the table, Calvin folded his hands. “If something happens to me, the three of you will jointly assume responsibility for the Mercury, Bugle, and Morning Star.”

  “What the hell brought this on?” Cavanaugh tossed his copy of the contract on the table. “Are you being threatened?”

  Calvin paused, wondering how to best answer that question. “I cannot go into detail, but yes, there is a particular group that might come after me.”

  “Who? Tammany?” Sloane asked. “Because I can talk to one of the police commissioners.”

  “Not Tammany—and I’m handling it. But thank you.”

  “Does this have anything to do with whoever was blackmailing you?” Cavanaugh asked.

  “In a roundabout way, yes. But it’s more complicated than that.”

  “Why us?” Harper pointed at himself, Cavanaugh, and Sloane. “We’re not exactly known for getting along.”

  “I have no family, no heirs to take over after I’m dead,” Calvin said. “And I trust the three of you. Personalities aside, you’re all excellent businessmen. Most importantly, I don’t want any of my papers falling into the hands of Pulitzer or Hearst. I hate those two bastards. It’s one of the conditions in that contract.”

  Cavanaugh reached into his pocket for a gold fountain pen. He removed the cap and flipped to the signature page, then scrawled his name on the paper. The other two did the same, and all the copies were exchanged until signatures resided on all the necessary copies.

  Calvin gathered up the documents and put them in his satchel. He’d turn them over to his lawyers tomorrow. “Thank you,” he told the men around the table. “I’ll finalize these with my lawyers and have a copy sent over to each of you.”

  Cavanaugh slipped his pen back in his pocket. “Whatever you need for peace of mind, Cabot. But God willing, it’ll never come to that.”

  “I hope you’re right, but I’ll sleep easier knowing my newspapers won’t fall into the enemy’s hands.”

  Harper toasted Calvin with his tumbler of bourbon. “Lillian Davies. Nice work, Cabot, even if the marriage was annulled.”

  “Her father was an utter jackass,” Sloane said. “I can’t imagine the conversations between you two.”

  Calvin grimaced. “There was only the one and I’ll certainly never forget it. Now, let’s hear what everyone else needs this month.”

  * * *

  Miss Robbs appeared in the office doorway. Calvin looked up from where he and Jim were debating the weekend layout. “Yes, Miss Robbs?”

  “Sir, there is a Mr. Davies here to see you. He said it was urgent.”

  Calvin let out a long, frustrated exhalation. Why would Lily’s brother be here? They had discussed keeping to normal routines upon returning from Newport, nothing that would give Lee any reason to doubt their story. Was it something to do with Lily? “Fine. Give me a moment.”

  He hadn’t seen Lily in more than a week, not since the night in her bedroom. The memory was a bittersweet one, yet he could not quit replaying the evening in his mind. He should have taken his time with her, undressed her properly. Made her come one more time before finding his own pleasure. Waited until they were both sated and sleepy before warning her about Lee. His life was nothing but mistakes upon mistakes. A sea of regret.

  “Cabot, did you hear me?”

  “Sorry, Jim. Why don’t you work with the typesetters to see what you come up with? I trust your judgment.”

  Jim’s brow creased and he reached out to feel Calvin’s forehead. “A
re you ill?”

  “You’re a riot,” Calvin said dryly. “We’ll pick this up after my meeting.”

  Jim chuckled and gathered up the draft of the paper they’d been working on. “You got it, boss.”

  After Jim departed Calvin dropped into his chair. “Send in Davies!”

  A few seconds later Tom Davies appeared, elegantly put together in a bespoke brown morning suit. A far cry from the man who’d spent a few weeks hiding out in a shabby boathouse. “Close the door,” Calvin ordered.

  Davies did as asked and then approached the desk. “I apologize for interrupting your day.”

  “We agreed not to meet, Davies. That you should stick to your usual haunts to prevent Lee from suspecting anything.”

  Davies thrust his hands in his pockets and began pacing. “I’m having a hard time doing that. I want to see her.”

  “Absolutely not. Out of the question.”

  Stopping, Davies put his hands on his hips. “Cabot, I’m going out of my mind with worry. I promised to keep her safe and you’ve taken her away from me, taken her to someplace secret. I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

  “You can do it. You must do it. Jesus, man. Get a grip on yourself. It’s only for a short time. Then you’ll have her back.” He hoped. Calvin’s plan was to get Hugo’s wife to safety, then agree to deliver the girl to Lee. Only he’d really turn Ming Zhu over to Davies. Then the problem would rest in Davies’s hands. Of course this would cause any number of difficulties, but Calvin couldn’t worry about that just yet. What mattered was repaying his debt to Hugo.

  “Why can’t I go visit her? No one will know.”

  Calvin stood up and placed his hands on the desk, leaning in. “It’s too dangerous. We’ve talked about this. If you go anywhere, you’ll be followed. Visiting her will lead Lee right to her.”

  “Well, how long must we wait before we can be together? You said you were meeting with Lee. How did he take the news?”

  “He believes you are not involved, that you have no idea where his daughter went. If you give it a few weeks, Lee will back off and then you can go retrieve her.”