“Not at all.” He picked up a magazine and settled on a chair. “I’ll be right here when you come out.”
And when Vaughn arrived, which she didn’t want to miss. She had a few choice questions for the man. Ashley was about to ask the A.A. if they could see her boss when the door of the president’s office opened and out stepped Nina Noble in a yellow suit with her signature Pierre Cardin scarf draped around her neck. Her assistant, Connie Wilkins, followed.
“Ah, Ms. Ashley,” the museum’s president said from behind them. “We were just discussing your work.”
“I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing the murals yet,” Nina cut in, her movie-star smile in place. Her gaze shifted to Ron and her smile broadened. “Sweetheart, what a surprise.”
“Mother.” Ron walked forward to kiss her cheek. “What are you doing here?” Ashley heard him add in a lower tone.
Nina patted his cheek. “Just stopped by to see the fabulous work we’re supporting. Ms. Fitzgerald is a very talented young woman. I own a couple of her paintings,” she told the president.
Ashley doubted that Nina owned a single painting with her signature on it, unless it was on a mat where she could wipe her feet.
“And these are the talented young men she’s taken under her wing—Josh and Micah,” the president added.
Nina extended her hands to Micah and Josh and gripped theirs as though she were genuinely pleased to make their acquaintance. The men wore goofy smiles, dazzled by her attention and apparent warmth. Josh surprised Ashley when he told Nina about the number of her plays he’d attended. He had never indicated he was an admirer of Nina Noble.
Ashley listened to the exchange between the actress and the others, but her gaze was on Ron, who was staring at his mother with an unreadable expression. What had Nina meant by the ‘we’re supporting’? When had she become a benefactor of this museum? And did the ‘we’ include…?
Her eyes widened as the realization hit her. Oh, no he didn’t. Ron didn’t donate money to the museum in an attempt to thwart Vaughn’s efforts. As though he sensed her gaze on him, Ron looked at her and grinned. That adorable, quirky smile isn’t getting you out of this one, mister.
He started to inch his way toward her, but the president said, “Ashley, my dear, why don’t you show Mrs. Noble the wonderful work you’re doing downstairs. And you two come in and wait for Mr. Doyle,” she told Micah and Josh. “He’s running a little late.”
Ashley balked. Why should she be the one to show that witch around? Before she could open her mouth and protest, the president added, “Mrs. Noble has been very generous. She gave us a sizeable donation for this museum. She’s also starting a commune for artists at her ancestral home in Culver City, which we’ll be in charge of.”
For a moment, Ashley couldn’t breathe. What the woman planned to do was to destroy her dream. Why? While Micah and Josh beamed like lottery winners, Ashley’s gaze swung to Ron. Had he known about this? He shook his head, the shock on his face plain to see. How could Nina do this to her? How could she hold a grudge for this long? Rage twisted Ashley’s gut. She released her breath in spurts, her gaze colliding with her tormentor’s.
“It would be a pleasure to show Mrs. Noble the murals.” She was proud her voice came out steady and calm. She turned and marched out of the office, too angry to see if Ron followed.
When she reached the elevators, Ashley turned around and caught Nina’s beaming smirk as she said her goodbyes. What a vindictive bitch. Ashley’s fingers curled into a fist, as she imagined what she would like to do to the woman’s scrawny neck.
Ashley’s gaze slid to Ron. The president had a firm grip on his hand while she prattled on about something. Probably another version of her speech for wealthy donors—how his wonderful donation would jumpstart beneficial programs for school-age children. She’d heard it often enough. And from the look on his face, he wasn’t going anywhere too soon, which was fine by her. She didn’t want him around when she and Nina had their little ‘chat.’
Ashley started for the stairs.
“The elevator, Ms. Fitzgerald,” Nina said aloud and extended a hand toward her, her teeth still flashing.
Ashley’s fear of confined spaces warred with her pride. Pride won. Heart pounding with a mixture of anger and dread, she joined Nina and Ms. Wilkins in the elevator. Ashley ignored the assistant and zeroed in on Nina as the doors closed. “Mrs. Noble, first I want to apologize.”
“For what, my dear?”
“If it weren’t for me, your husband would still be alive. For that, I’m truly sorry.”
Nina threw her a mocking glance. “What are you talking about? My husband died in the line of duty, hardly your fault.”
Ashley blinked. What game was the woman playing now? There was no audience. Or did she stop blaming her? God, she hoped so. She’d bet it was Ron’s doing. Ashley sighed with relief. “Thank you. About Carlyle House, I don’t understand what’s going on. I thought you wanted to sell it.”
Nina shook her head. “Not anymore. You’ll get paid handsomely for your work here and at Carlyle House. Friends of mine once wanted to turn it into commune for artists, you know. I’m just fulfilling their dream.”
Ashley wanted to yell, “That was my parents’ dream.” But the elevator door opened and a throng of people descended on them—paparazzi and Nina’s fans. Microphones hovered over their heads and cameras clicked and exploded in their faces as a media circus began. The museum security tried to intervene and contain the situation to no avail.
“Nina? Is it true that you’re funding the artists working on the murals?” a reporter asked.
“How much money did you pledge?” another one added.
“Can I have your autograph, please?” a fan yelled.
“Is it true that you’re going to give a percentage of the revenues from your present play to a local art center?”
The questions kept coming and Nina kept smiling, basking in the limelight. Finally, she raised her hands and everyone went quiet. Ashley tried to shuffle her way out, but the people had formed a tight shield around them. She was forced to stay there, right beside Nina. Ashley ground her teeth and fought to stay calm.
“I don’t know how you found me, but I guess the secret is out,” Nina said with a toothy grin. “I’m interested in working with local artists, and not just budding actors and actresses. This has always been a dream of mine, but now that age is catching up with me—”
“You’re still young, Nina,” a reporter yelled back and a few murmured in agreement.
“We love you, Nina,” a fan called out.
Nina laughed. “Love you, too, babe. I guess you’re as young as you feel, and I do feel invigorated and excited about these new projects. The children’s museum is just the beginning.”
“Who’s the young lady by your side?” a reporter asked.
“This, ladies and gentlemen of the press, is Ashley Fitzgerald, the talented young artist behind the murals here at the children’s museum. If you ask her nicely, she might let you see what they’ve already done. They’re truly incredible.”
And she hadn’t even seen them. The woman was a piece of work. Ashley pasted a smile on her lips as more cameras clicked. While Nina signed autographs, the reporters swooped down on Ashley. Suddenly, it was those years with her parents all over, the paparazzi asking personal questions and intruding on their lives. A reporter asked about her erotic series, her models, when she was going to do another show and where. Another recalled who her parents were and asked about the reissuing of their songs. Worse, her claustrophobia kicked in. She endured the barrage by sheer will, smiled until her jaw hurt and hated every moment of it. The only consolation was that the publicity was good for her work and her cousin’s gallery.
“That’s enough, folks,” Nina finally said. “Unless Ashley decides to let you see the murals, we must leave.”
Ashley smiled through her teeth. “I’m sorry, but the official opening of the museum is not for a few more mo
nths. The murals won’t be unveiled until then.”
Something in her voice must have convinced them, because one by one the reporters stepped back. Nina’s fans still hovered. Ashley pushed her way through them and hurried toward the new building. Inside, she was seething with rage, her hands clammy and forehead dotted with sweat from a near panic attack. She took deep breaths, trying to calm down.
She’s Ron’s mother…she’s Ron’s mother….
She was pacing up and down, silently calling Nina Noble every nasty name she could think of, when the actress and her assistant appeared. “It was my parents’ dream to work with young artists, a dream I meant to fulfill. You shouldn’t—”
“Shut up.” Nina closed in on her, eyes blazing. “You have some nerve filling my son’s head with things you know nothing about. Doyle was not at the house the night of the fire, and he didn’t talk to my brother or my husband. What are you trying to do, huh? Get my son killed, too? Doyle is not someone to be trifled with.”
Ashley took several steps back until her back was against the wall. “Mrs. Noble, I just told him what I recalled during hypnosis.”
“And all of it is untrue. I want you to listen to me, missy,” Nina hissed. “Stay away from my son. You want Carlyle House? It’s yours. But on one condition—stay away from Ron.”
Ashley shook her head. “You’re using your son to bargain with me?”
Nina’s eyes narrowed. “Call it whatever you like. Break things off with him. Today.”
What kind of a mother was she? “Don’t you care about him? What he wants?”
Ms. Wilkins touched the actress’s arm, but Nina pushed her hand away. “I’m his mother. Of course, I care. But whatever he’s getting from you, he can easily get from a dozen other women.”
Ashley’s mouth opened but words failed her. Nina’s words hurt, though Ashley knew they were probably true. Ron was an amazing man and a wonderful lover. Few women could resist a man like him. But what shocked her was Nina’s sudden change in attitude. Why was she pleasant earlier in the elevator? Had she known the reporters were waiting downstairs?
“Do we have a deal?” Nina’s eyes narrowed.
Something snapped inside Ashley. “No.”
“Ms. Fitzgerald,” Ms. Wilkins warned.
Ashley ignored her. “And once Ron hears about this conversation….”
Rage distorted Nina’s face. “You wouldn’t dare tell him about this. He’d never believe you.”
Ashley was on adrenaline rush and couldn’t stop her next words. “It would be your word against mine, but he would believe me. I’ve never lied to him, never kept secrets—”
The unexpected slap sucked the rest of the words from her throat. Stars exploded behind her eyes as fiery pain radiated down her cheek. A telltale clicking sound of a camera followed from somewhere to their left.
“How dare you threaten me?”
Nina’s words echoed in Ashley’s head. The actress’ rage-distorted face appeared hazy as Ashley peered at her through teary eyes. Nina raised her hand again. Ashley imitated her, ready to fight back, but images of Ron flashed in her head. She couldn’t fight his mother, no matter how angry the woman made her. Ashley angled one arm to block the next blow.
“Hey! Stop that.”
Ashley froze.
“Get him out of here,” Ron snapped.
Him who? Ashley turned to look. Ron hurried toward them, his expression grim. Behind him, two men struggled with another holding a camera.
“Ron,” Nina wailed and dashed to meet him. “She’s a horrible person. She called me terrible names. Said I was a liar, an unfit mother, that you wouldn’t love me—”
“Mother. Not now.” He tried to extricate himself from her arms, but Nina wasn’t ready to let him go.
“All I tried to do was discuss Carlyle House with her, but she wouldn’t listen. She started to threaten me, said she’d turn you against me. She’s a monster, a malicious, evil person who’ll not stop at anything until she destroys our family. She said….”
Ashley’s gaze stayed locked with Ron’s. Yes, she did threaten to tell Ron what his mother had said, but she refused to jump in the fray and defend herself. If Ron chose to believe his mother, then so be it.
“Your father…he would still be alive if it weren’t for her,” Nina continued her tirade despite Ron’s attempts to stop her. “You know that, don’t you, baby? Remember we discussed it a couple of weeks ago. If she hadn’t…”
Ashley shook her head and flexed her throbbing jaw. For a scrawny woman, Nina packed quite a whopper.
“Mother,” Ron finally snapped. “Stop it. Right now. This is hardly the place to be discussing such things. Ashley wouldn’t insult you without provocation.”
Nina stared at him with rounded eyes, and for once, her mouth stopped moving. A surge of pleasure shot through Ashley at Ron’s support, but guilt quickly followed. Ron shouldn’t have to choose sides.
“What did you say?” Nina asked, her Oscar-worthy performance vanishing faster than dry ice in boiling water.
Ron gripped her arms and peered into her face. “Mother, I’m not going to debate with you over anything. Not here, not now.” He pointed toward the entrance of the museum. “There’s a reporter out there with very damaging pictures of what happened here. You should be more concerned about keeping them out of the tabloids than what Ashley said or did.” A sigh escaped him. “I know her, Mother. She’s not the monster you’re trying to paint.”
Nina shot Ashley a heated look. Ashley winced. It bugged her that the woman refused to let go of the past and was dragging her son down.
“Take her home,” Ron instructed Nina’s assistant and gently nudged his mother toward her. “She’s tired and overwrought. I’ll call later and discuss what to tell the press if they catch up with us.” He waited, his gaze on his mother, as the two women walked away. When his mother looked back with an anguished expression, he added, “Everything will be okay, Mom. I promise.”
Right then, Ashley knew he’d always played the grown-up in his relationship with his mother. How sad and unfair.
“I’m so sorry,” she said when he turned toward her.
“That’s supposed to be my line.” The smile on his face was tinged with sadness. His gaze went to her right cheek. “Does it hurt?”
The pain level kept increasing. “Not really.”
“You’re not a good a liar.” He reached out and palmed her injured cheek. He caressed it, his touch so gentle. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to stop her. My mother can be vicious.”
That was the understatement of the year. She covered his hand with hers.
“I think I held my own.” And would have decked her and enjoyed every moment of it, but she didn’t want to tell Ron that. Neither was she scolding him for his donation to the museum. There was just so much a man could take at once. She gripped his hand and tugged. “Why don’t we head back upstairs? I’m sure they’re still waiting for me.”
He didn’t move.
“Ashley.” His somber tone caused her to stop and look at him. “You know I don’t blame you for my father’s death.”
“I know. I trust you, Ron.” She reached out with her other hand and ran her palm up and down his sleeve. “Besides, we agreed to be totally honest with each other, right?”
Something flashed in his eyes, but it disappeared so fast she didn’t have enough time to decipher it.
“Right,” he said with a nod.
She wound her arm around his. “Which brings us to you and your secret.”
This time, she saw panic in his eyes. Ashley smiled. “Don’t worry, hon. I’m not mad. Just promise to check with me next time you want to donate money to an organization I work for or a project I’m working on.”
He nodded. “Anything for you, babe. Now, let’s get this meeting over and done with. I want to get the hell out of this town.”
CHAPTER 18
What a day. Ron closed his eyes and rested his head against the leathe
r seat. And more was yet to come. He knew his mother well enough to know that the incident at the museum was a prelude to more drama. This trip to Vegas only postponed the inevitable. At least he had Ashley to keep his mind off things. His woman had been through so much, but still managed to stay upbeat. No wonder he was nuts about her.
For a moment, he just stared at her. He loved everything that was Ashley Fitzgerald. Hot tempered or sweet, stubborn or vulnerable, she filled a void in him he hadn’t known existed. He’d be damned if he didn’t admit it felt good and right. He grinned from ear to ear.
His gaze touched her closed eyelids, the gentle slope of her cheek and the stubborn chin before settling on her sensual, full lips. He knew she was nervous about meeting his grandmother and had made such a fuss over her appearance. Her hair now fell in soft waves around her shoulders. But whether her hair was piled up, styled or in a ponytail, she always took his breath away. How could he have thought that a simple affair with her would suffice?
“Would you like something to drink, Mr. Noble?”
This was the third time the flight attendant asked if he needed something. Ron looked up at the petite flight attendant and tried to remember her name. She was new and overly eager to please. Somebody forgot to tell her that corporate flight attendants should serve without being intrusive.
“We have freshly brewed coffee,” she added.
“Make it brandy.” Champagne would have been better, but it would have to wait until he spoke with Ashley. The conversation they had at the museum flitted in his thoughts. When she had said his secret, he’d thought she knew the truth and he broke out in cold sweat. Once he finished with his uncle and learned what had happened between his father and Doyle, he’d tell Ashley everything.
His cell phone rang, interrupting his reverie. He eased Ashley’s head off his chest, settled her onto the couch and got up.
“I’ll be right back, babe,” he murmured.
He pulled the cell phone from its holder and recognized Kenny’s number before he placed the phone on his ear. “Hey. I’ve been expecting your call,” he said, moving to the back of the plane.
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