by Jo Leigh
The building itself was silver and in the bright June sunlight it seemed molten and fluid, which was exactly what Todd had wanted. Using the old Coleridge poem as his guide, Todd had built the stately pleasure dome, complete with sunless sea, more than a mile of meandering river through woods and dales, leading to the mystical caverns below, where designer shops were carved out of rock and the music of the dulcimer floated in the purified air. All of it skillfully, masterfully, designed to part guests from their money.
As the limo approached the porte cochere, Jenny’s stomach clenched as the fear she’d been keeping at arm’s length sunk into her very bones. She had to swallow hard to keep from being sick and it was only thoughts of Patrick that kept her from running.
The window separating her from Nick lowered as they moved into the valet lane. “No place like home, eh?”
His sarcasm was as bitter as the bile in the back of her throat. “You’ve certainly made it yours,” she said, struggling to keep her voice cool. “You must be so proud.”
He parked the limo on the far side of the entrance, near the private elevators for the high rollers, then turned back to look at her as if she were something he’d found on the bottom of his shoe. “I am. But then, I never said I wanted out.”
The valet opened the back door. She shot a look at Nick. “You bastard.” She got out, blasted by the furnace like heat of desert sun. The hotel was busy, as always. Taxis waited like schoolchildren to be called into service by the costumed bellmen. Limos stretched long and private in their own lanes. The glass doors leading inside were huge and thick, double doors meant to keep the real world firmly outside.
Nick walked to her side, holding her overnight bag. She hadn’t brought much with her. Makeup, pictures, vitamins. Everything else would be provided for, down to her bra and panties. Oh, God, she couldn’t do it.
She had to. Patrick was up there, scared to death, wanting his mommy. They’d never been apart this long. She had to see him—now.
“Come on,” Nick said, his hand on the small of her back.
The contact made her shiver as it always had. Her foolish body didn’t know any better, but it would learn. She stepped forward quickly, breaking the contact. She wanted nothing to do with him.
He led her inside to the atrium, twenty stories high, capped by a blanket of mirrors and hanging crystal in a flash of glitter. The sound of the casino was muted here. In fact, one of the conditions for having slots in this hotel was that there were no bells and whistles. People threw away their money quietly in Xanadu.
They walked past gardens, gazebos, pergolas lush with foliage. It took a staff of more than a hundred people to maintain the gardens in Xanadu, and in all the time she’d spent here she’d never once seen a brown leaf.
The smell of the place brought back too much. Of course, there were no unpleasant odors. The air, along with everything else, was strictly controlled, manipulated. There were no clocks anywhere, the sky inside was always blue in the perpetual daylight. There was no breach of the fantasy where any guest might catch an inadvertent glimpse.
She looked up as they crossed to the private elevators, built slightly behind the public facilities, and saw the hundreds of smoky-glass domes in the ceiling and along the walls. Domes that hid security cameras. No hotel was more carefully monitored. The security staff outnumbered the garden staff.
Nick called for an elevator. Once they were inside, he slipped a key into the slot that would allow them passage to the upper floors, to the suites for the whales and Todd’s enclave. It felt like forever to climb the forty-one stories. All she could think of was holding Patrick. Keeping him safe.
When they finally reached the penthouse, Nick walked with her down the hallway, her boots sinking into the thick pile of the burgundy carpet. The theme continued even here in the lofty heights, with Chinese and Mongol influences in the wall sconces, the paintings and the wallpaper. She’d been awed the first time Todd had brought her here. No detail left unattended, everything had a beauty and a serenity meant to soothe and to comfort. It didn’t work on her. All she could think about was the fact that she’d need a key to get into any of the elevators on this floor. A key he’d never give her.
They stopped at the double doors to Todd’s suite. It was, of course, the most extravagant room in the hotel. More than fifteen-thousand square feet, it was larger than a lot of the motels on the side streets of the city and more decadent than a rock star’s dreams.
Nick knocked and the door opened. A butler she didn’t recognize bowed slightly, took her bag from Nick, then led them into the dragon’s lair.
Marble floors, glass walls, Picassos, Renoirs, antiques; there wasn’t an inch of the suite that wasn’t detailed and designed to be the best of the best. Six bedrooms, twelve baths, a private swimming pool, spa, massage room, grand piano, private dining room and kitchen. It made her physically ill.
But she kept her expression neutral as they neared the master bedroom. He was going to test her—punish her. It would be horrible, but she could take it. She had to take it.
Patrick.
At the door, the butler knocked, then she heard Todd’s voice. She gripped her purse, stood straight, focused. Feeling Nick beside her should have been a comfort, damn it.
The butler led them inside, and then she saw him. Patrick. Sitting on the lap of the man who would own her. Todd’s hair, thick and shockingly white, was immaculate, as was the suit on his tall, muscular frame. A devilishly handsome man, he hid his wickedness behind hypnotically beautiful blue eyes.
“Mommy!”
She tore her gaze from Todd and hurried forward, her anxiety to hold her child stronger than any fear. Patrick squirmed, trying to escape. When he couldn’t, he cried, screamed, his panic loud and shrill in the cavernous room.
She reached the bedside chair where Todd held her son. Just as she was about to fall to her knees and beg, Patrick escaped. He leaped into her arms where she hugged him tight, her tears falling unheeded, his tears fueling her hatred drop by drop.
She looked up briefly, long enough to see that Todd was watching her intently, so she turned. But then she could see Nick. Was that shock in his face? Surprise? Had he really not known that Todd had kidnapped her baby?
Their baby?
Chapter Three
Nick struggled to keep the surprise off his face. A kid? It explained so much. She’d wanted to get away from Todd for a long time before she’d actually made a move. Subtle hints, questions. But then, she’d gotten panicked, insistent. She’d come to him that night…
Nick took a deep, slow breath as the realization washed over him. She’d come to him, to his bed, even though it could have gotten them both killed. She’d known then, had to. She was carrying Todd’s child. Damn it, what a fool he’d been. He’d thought…
It didn’t matter. It was his own damn fault that he’d let himself care about her, that he’d put everything in jeopardy. So what if her reasons had been more complicated?
His gaze went to the boy. How had he gotten here? Nick hadn’t heard a word about it. Why not? Why hadn’t Todd filled him in? Sweet had clearly known, but then, Sweet knew everything. Almost everything. He hadn’t known Nick had helped Jenny escape, or Nick would have been a corpse a long time ago.
Where was he, anyway? Todd couldn’t itch without Sweet scratching, and yet, here was this tender reunion scene and Henry Sweet was nowhere to be seen.
This whole situation stunk. And with what was coming down, Nick had better get to the bottom of it damn fast.
“You look like hell.”
Nick shifted his attention to Todd. It was like old times, the way the man looked at Jenny. Todd was made of granite, except when he was around her. Nick had never met anyone who could master his emotions like C. Randall Todd. It was one of the things that made him so dangerous. And yet as he sat there on the edge of his bed, his face showed his lust, his need, his anger. So vividly, Nick had to stop himself from grabbing Jenny and the kid and running
like hell.
Had she really come back to this of her own volition? Impossible. Obviously, Todd had found her, found out about his son, and from that moment there wasn’t a force on earth that could have stopped him from getting the boy.
Todd considered himself the ruler of all he surveyed. And what could be more important to a ruler than an heir to the empire?
Jenny stood, holding fiercely to her son. “What I look like is no concern of yours.”
Todd smiled. Nick felt his blood chill. Damn it, what was she thinking? She knew better than to provoke him.
“Get out, Nick. But don’t go far. You’ll be helping Jenny move into her old suite.”
“Yes, sir,” he said. There was nothing else he could say. He glanced at Jenny, but her attention was fully on Todd. It didn’t matter. He had to go. Now. He was in no position to help her. Not today. Not at all.
Jenny was on her own.
SHE HEARD THE DOOR behind her open and close behind Nick. Her bravado faltered, badly. Todd’s gaze was enough to put the fear of the devil in anyone, but she knew, she remembered too intensely, just who she was facing.
“When we met, I thought your impertinence was charming. That was a long time ago.”
“I’m still me, Todd. That’s something you can’t change.”
“No?” He rose. She’d forgotten just how formidable a man he was, as if her memories could only hold so much of him and no more. At six foot two, he was a little shorter than Nick, but his attitude made him seem huge. He’d kept trim, which didn’t surprise her. He had a personal trainer, played tennis and golf, swam daily. He took pride in his body and, just like everything else of his, it had to be a little better, a little stronger. He looked years younger than fifty-eight, something he never tired of hearing.
“No. I wish I could have been more…forthright about leaving, but the fundamental reasons haven’t changed at all. I don’t want to be here, Todd. You can have anyone. Anyone at all.”
“That’s right. I can. And I want you.”
He reached her side and it was all she could do to maintain her ground. She couldn’t give in to her terror. Not that he didn’t already know she was quaking inside. But she didn’t want Patrick to see. He was scared enough as it was.
“Mommy, I want to go home.”
She kissed his pale forehead. “I know, sweetie. Me, too.”
Todd smiled at the boy, showing off his even, white teeth. Perfect. Fake. “You are home. This is your new home, son.”
“He’s not—” Jenny stopped herself. She’d gone over it and over it since the moment Patrick had disappeared. She didn’t dare tell Todd that Patrick wasn’t his. He wouldn’t believe her; he’d insist on proof. Once he discovered that Nick was Patrick’s father, the two of them were dead. What she didn’t know, and didn’t dare find out, is if it would also mean Patrick’s death. Unthinkable, but Todd was just vicious enough to do something that heinous.
“He doesn’t understand,” she said feebly.
“Then we’ll help him understand, won’t we?” Todd declared, reaching out with his long fingers.
She flinched, but he only touched the side of her cheek. She closed her eyes, held Patrick tighter.
“Before you arrived, I explained to Patrick that I’m his father. That we’ll become very good friends. That he’ll have the best of everything from this moment forward. The best tutors, the best toys. And you, Jenny, will pull yourself together.” He looked her up and down, shaking his head as if her jeans were a personal affront.
“You’re back with me now.”
She bit back a smart-ass retort. It wouldn’t help things. God, the helplessness was like drowning. How could she take it? “I didn’t bring any clothes.”
“There are some in your suite, and we’ll get more when the time comes.” A moment passed with his gaze burning into hers. He arched a white brow, waiting.
“Yes, sir,” she said, making sure her voice sounded small, weak.
“Good. Now, go with Nick and get settled. I’ve put the boy next door to you, along with his nanny. I’ll expect you back here in an hour. Alone. We need to set some ground rules.” He smiled at her, but not with the warmth he’d shown Patrick. This was a feral smile, filled with the cruelty she’d learned to dread. “And we have some unfinished business to take care of, yes?”
She bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling as she nodded.
He leaned down and kissed her cheek, his breath a combination of mint and cloves that resurrected more of her past. She’d tried so hard to forget. But some horrors are not forgotten, ever.
He patted Patrick on the head. “Go. You haven’t much time. And, Jenny, I want your hair down.”
She turned, too fast. His hand was jolted from Patrick’s head. She’d pay for that sin, too.
NICK LEANED against the open door of the last suite on the private floor, next to a middle-aged woman he’d just met, waiting for Jenny and Patrick. The woman, Regina Norris, was a professional nanny, British, who, she’d just told him, had once taken care of William and Harry, when the princess had been alive. Of late, she’d overseen the three children of a British Lord, and had come to America after being lured by an unimaginable sum by C. Randall Todd. Nick was faintly surprised. He’d have figured Todd would find someone more malleable for the job of watching his heir. Someone, say, from an old European family, but then again, it was his only son. Never settle for anything but the best, that was Todd’s credo.
She looked like a nice woman. Well-kempt, prim. Sort of a Maggie Smith type. He quelled the urge to tell her to get out before it was too late. Before she made a mistake that could cost her everything. It wasn’t his business.
Unfortunately, Todd had made Jenny Nick’s business once again. He’d had to hide his shock at being assigned to her. It had been a long time since his bodyguard days. But when Nick thought about the other close associates of Todd’s, he couldn’t come up with anyone he’d trust to watch her.
It wasn’t a question of loyalty. No one on the inner circle would dare make an inappropriate move. It was about intelligence. His men weren’t exactly geniuses when it came to thinking on their feet.
Independent thought wasn’t conducive to slavish obedience. Which, Nick had learned early and well, could be faked. But this assignment wasn’t going to work at all. Not just because of their past, which would have been enough, but because of his future. Unfortu nately he couldn’t approach Todd about either of his reasons. So he’d have to come up with something else. Something compelling enough to get him back to his old routine without sending up any red flags.
The only thing he could think of was to have Jenny insist that he go. It wasn’t a solution he cared for. He couldn’t tell her what he was doing, that would put her in too much danger. So he’d have to be a schmuck.
Damn. As if things for her weren’t terrible enough. But what was his alternative? Things were coming to a head here and he couldn’t afford to have it all blow up in his face. That would be very, very bad.
Todd’s door opened and Nick pushed off the wall, straightening his cuffs as he watched Jenny walk into the hall. She held her son tight and he watched her soothe the boy, touch him, hug him. He wondered who was more comforted.
Jenny had a kid. A son who looked just like her. Would Patrick grow more like Todd as he got older?
Nick still had a hell of a lot to think about, to work out. That he hadn’t known about Patrick or Jenny returning bothered him almost as much as Jenny’s return itself. At least he understood why she hadn’t rushed to tell him about her boy when he’d put her in the limo. She’d known he’d figure out the dates. That she had to have been pregnant when they’d gotten together.
Would it have stopped him from helping her? No. Would it have stopped him from making love to her? He had no idea. And he couldn’t afford to think about it now. His personal life was so far away from a priority, it had its own zip code. He’d given all that up when he’d taken the job with Todd. Nothing ma
ttered but the gig. Not even Jenny.
What did matter was that his place in the organization was still safe. That Todd still trusted him. Henry Sweet didn’t, but then, he never had. Sweet didn’t trust anyone except Todd. Period. It had taken too long, at too great a cost, for Nick to get this far. He couldn’t blow it now.
“There’s my boy,” Mrs. Norris said, stepping out to meet Jenny.
Nick held himself back as Jenny and the nanny met, sized each other up. Jenny held on to Patrick as long as she could, but in the end, she had to let him go. Patrick, of course, didn’t care for that at all, and he let out a wail that was at once piercing and pathetic. Which wasn’t nearly as bad as the sudden silence that descended when the nanny closed the door.
Jenny looked inconsolable. Damn it to hell, he couldn’t have consoled her if he’d wanted to.
“So you’re back to being my watchdog, eh, Nick?”
She’d turned to him slowly, walked away from her son, her ponytail swaying behind her as if her pale green eyes weren’t half-dead with sorrow.
“Looks like it.” He accompanied her back up the long hallway, past Todd’s suite, to the room they both knew well. He opened the door to her suite, pocketing the key before he let her inside. She brushed by him quickly, but he still caught a whiff of her perfume. His body reacted quickly, but he ignored it.
“My God,” she said as she gazed around the room. It was half the size of Todd’s, but that still meant it was enormous. He’d redecorated since she’d gone, taken the once vaguely Persian decor and run with it. Pillows on the floor, silk curtain swathes hanging from the ceiling, great overstuffed chaise longues and ornate tables festooned with antique hookahs and cast-iron figurines. It was beautiful in a way, but so unlike Jenny’s character as to be laughable.
“It looks like something out of Scheherazade’s nightmares.”
