The Cinderella Scandal

by Barbara Mccauley

  Calmly, so calmly it frightened everyone, Ivan removed his apron and walked out of the room.

  No one moved or spoke for a full ten seconds, then Yana let out a breath and said, "Well. I'd say that went well."

  "My baby." Eyes overflowing with tears, Mariska opened her arms and rushed to Rachel. "I am going to be a grandmother."

  And then Mariska was hugging everyone, including Reid, though she did grab his arms and frown at him for a moment before she sighed heavily, then hugged him again.

  "Reid." Tina touched his arm. "I'm going to go talk to my father."

  "I'll go with you."

  "It's better if I go alone right now," she said, shaking her head. "Please."

  He sighed, then nodded. "I'll be next door."

  She found her father in the garden, standing by the small pond, staring down at the rippling water. The morning air was beginning to warm as the sun rose higher, and somewhere overhead in the branches of a magnolia tree, a songbird called to its mate.

  He didn't turn when she approached, and she wasn't certain if he hadn't heard her, or if he was avoiding her. She stood quietly, several feet away and watched him, realized how long it had been since she'd truly looked at her father. He had always been a big man, strong, with shoulders broad enough to carry the world, she'd thought growing up.

  Looking at him now, with those shoulders slightly bent and a distinguished touch of gray at his temples, her heart swelled with love. She couldn't bear it if he turned away from her, or from Rachel.

  She stepped closer, was about to speak when he said, "Do you remember when we built this pond, Katina?"

  His question stopped her. "I was ten," she said after a moment. "We lived upstairs, over the bakery."

  "I mixed the cement, you and your sisters placed every rock exactly where they are now."

  Nodding, she moved beside him. "You took us to the riverfront fair and let us each win a fish at the ping-pong toss."

  "You named yours Gilbert." He turned then. "But you called it Gil."

  She stared at him in wonder. "That was fourteen years ago. How could you remember that?"

  "You are my baby," he said evenly. "You, your sisters. All of you. How can I forget?"

  Tears welled in her eyes as she met his gaze. When he opened his arms, she moved into the comfort there. She couldn't remember how long it had been since he'd held her like this. Since she'd wanted him to.

  "How can you, and Rachel and Sophia, how can you do this to me?" he said, his voice edged with anger. "To your mother."

  Her heart sank. She'd wanted so desperately for him to understand and to accept she wasn't a child anymore. Lifting her head, she looked up at him, searching for the words.

  "How can you grow up?" he said more softly, then touched her cheek and shook his head. "It is not right."

  Relief poured through her. "I love you."

  "And do you love him?" he asked.

  She hesitated, then slowly nodded.

  Her father sighed. "Does he love you?"

  "I know he cares for me," she said. "But his family, our lives, are so different. I don't know if there's a place for me there."

  "Ah. I see. This can be a problem." It was a long moment before her father spoke, as if he were carefully considering what Tina had said. "When your mother married me, your grandfather never spoke to her again."

  Confused, Tina looked up at her father. "But I thought he died when Mom when a teenager."

  "Your mother was eighteen, I was nineteen when I asked for her hand." Ivan's mouth pressed into a hard line. "A common man marrying a woman whose great-grandmother was a countess. He thought I was arrogant."

  Tina had never heard there was a countess in her lineage, but as intriguing as it was, she realized this wasn't the time to ask. "You are arrogant."

  "And you are impudent," he said, frowning. "But that was not the only reason he would not speak to your mother."

  "Then what was?"

  Ivan met his daughter's gaze, then sighed heavily. "Come sit, Katina," he said softly. "It is time I tell you the truth."

  * * *

  Reid paced the length of the back office in the campaign headquarters, wondering what was taking Tina so long. There hadn't been any explosions next door yet, nor had Ivan charged through the door breathing fire, so at least that much was a positive.

  He wasn't used to waiting and it was driving him crazy. In fact, the operative word here was crazy. Everything about this entire situation was insane. A smarter, wiser man would have stayed away, he thought, would walk—no run—away. There were bound to be endless complications, and who the hell needed complications?

  "Not me," he said to himself, then turned to pace the length of the office again. "I like things simple and easy," he told himself, and glanced at his wristwatch.

  So what the hell was taking her so long?

  He supposed she had her hands full at the moment. With her father finding out she'd spent the night with a man, then Rachel getting married and being pregnant, Reid imagined the dust was still flying.

  What he found odd was that he hadn't wanted to leave, that he'd wanted to stay and be a part of all that dust. And that was really crazy.

  Turning to pace again, he shoved his hands into his pockets. Dammit, where was she?

  He started for the door, then stopped himself. He couldn't go back over there. Not yet. He'd give her another half hour, maybe even forty-five minutes. It wasn't as if he didn't have anything to do. He had five messages to return, one from Ian warning him that Jasmine Carmody had been snooping around at one of D&D's coffeehouses, the rest were from his shipping office regarding a lost container coming in from the Maximilian Paper account overseas. He knew he should handle that problem first, before he went back to the bakery.

  He reached for the phone, punched in his office number, then slammed the phone back down.

  Dammit!

  He was heading for the door when he heard the light knock. Annoyed, he threw it open. "What!"

  Startled, Tina took a step back. "I … I'm sorry. I can come back late—"

  Grabbing her arm, he dragged her inside his office, kicking the door closed as he pulled her into his arms.

  She stiffened when he caught her mouth with his, then relaxed and slid her arms around his neck. Her lips parted and he flicked his tongue over hers, a rough, deep, demanding kiss. Possessive. He could have tasted her forever like this, held her forever, but he finally, reluctantly, lifted his head and gazed down at her. "I had to do that first."

  Her lips were still damp and rosy from his kiss, so tempting. He bent his head again.

  "No." She placed a hand on his chest and he could feel her fingers trembling.

  "You okay?"

  "I … I don't know what I am."

  Her voice was so distant, so strange, it worried him. When she stepped out of his arms and turned away, he clenched his jaw. "Look, I know this is hard on your parents and it's a lot for one day, but dammit, we aren't kids. Just because they don't want you to see me—"

  "No." She turned back, leveled her gaze with his. "That's not it at all."

  What he saw in her eyes, the bleak emptiness, made his gut twist. "Then what?"

  She sighed heavily, then folded her arms close. "When my father was a teenager, he was an apprentice in his country. He worked at the Castle Marcel under a man named Wilhelm, who was the head baker."

  "Why are you—"

  "Please." She put up a hand. "Just listen."

  Though he thought he might explode, Reid pressed his lips tightly together.

  "There was no king or queen at the castle," Tina said. "Just a duke. But that's not relevant. Wilhelm is."

  When she paused, it took Reid every ounce of willpower he had not to rush her, but clearly she was struggling to gather her thoughts.

  "According to my father," she finally went on, "Wilhelm hated him, humiliated him every chance he got, publicly and privately. After four years, when my father turned nineteen, he'd d
ecided he'd had enough and left. Wilhelm lied and told the constable that my father had stolen Castle Marcel's secret recipes, recipes that had been passed down for generations. There was a warrant issued for my father's arrest."

  In the corporate world, Reid knew that recipes of any food business were highly guarded, kept under lock and key and sophisticated alarm systems. And though it was a white-collar crime, it was still a crime.

  "Isn't it a little extreme for Wilhelm to have your father arrested?" Reid asked.

  "Wilhelm hated my father," Tina said. "Even though all the recipes my father took were his own, they were recipes that Wilhelm had taken credit for. Wilhelm was worried he would be found out."

  "Surely your father could have proven himself innocent," Reid argued. "The courts would have exonerated him."

  "Maybe, maybe not." She sighed. "Wilhelm had connections in high places. My father was young and afraid he would rot in prison. So he and my mother left the country on a merchant ship and were married. He worked in the galley to support them. When they came to America, they changed their name, moved from New York to Florida, then ended up in Savannah just before Sophia was born."

  She looked so pale, Reid thought. Her eyes so empty. And for the first time, he felt the fear snake through him.

  "Tina. Sit." She stiffened when he took her arm, but he held on and tugged her to a chair, then knelt beside her. "That was thirty years ago. Wilhelm is probably dead by now."

  She shook her head. "He's not dead."

  "So, what difference does it make?" Reid said. "He couldn't possibly still be angry."

  "Oh, but he is," she said quietly. "When my father left, he did take something of Wilhelm's."

  "What was that?"

  "My mother. Wilhelm is my grandfather."

  Whoa. Reid whistled through his teeth, then sat in the chair beside Tina. "Oh," was all he could manage to say.

  "Yeah. Oh."

  They were both silent for a moment, then Tina said, "My mother has called my grandfather several times over the years and tried to mend the rift, but he refuses. He insists he can still have my father arrested. My mother has never told him their new name or where we live, in case he tries to cause trouble."

  "It will never stick, not after all this time. A good lawyer will clear him."

  "My father is worried that even an accusation of being a thief will bring shame to his family. It's one of the reasons he's always been so protective of us, worrying that someday he might be found out."

  "But your mother was happy when she thought I was interested in Rachel," Reid insisted.

  "She was too excited at the prospect of one of her daughters marrying a Danforth to think about repercussions to the family," Tina said. "My father is innocent but innocent people are ruined everyday, Reid. I don't have to tell you that."

  What she was saying was true, Reid knew. No matter how innocent a person truly was, accusations hung around like a bad smell. "Look, Tina, I know how difficult this might seem to you, but we—"

  "It's not difficult, it's impossible. And I'm only telling you all this so you'll understand." She stood, looked down at him. "I can't jeopardize my family, and I won't jeopardize yours, either. If we continued to see each other, the media would be just as interested in my family as they are yours, and they'd be looking for dirt. Everyone would be hurt."

  "Dammit, Tina." He rose and took hold of her arm. "We'll find a way to—"

  "There is no 'we,' Reid," she said quietly, pulling her arm back. "There can't be. Not now. Not ever."

  He wanted to shake her. Wanted to argue, to yell, throw something, even. But the cold conviction in her eyes told him that nothing was going to get through to her.

  So he said nothing. Just felt his gut tighten and his stomach clench as he watched her turn, open the door and walk out of his life.

  * * *

  Ten

  « ^

  "It will not be too big, I have decided. No more than two hundred. Tina and Sophia, you will help me with the menu. Yana, you will take the pictures, of course."

  Even though ten days had passed since Rachel and Jason had gotten married and left for Los Angeles, Mariska had not stopped talking about the impending reception. No one bothered to mention to her that she'd repeated herself at least a hundred times. She was too caught up in the excitement of her daughter's marriage to listen to anyone but herself. And the baby, good heavens! Mariska Alexander was going to be a grandmother, and she made sure that everyone knew.

  While her mother rattled on and her father cleaned his oven, Tina dried the cake pans that Sophia and Yana had washed. It was the end of a long, busy day at the bakery, and rather than go home, Tina had stayed to help clean. If she kept busy, she didn't think as much.

  It hurt to think. For that matter, it hurt to breathe.

  "And the cake! Ivan, you must create something special, so special that people will cry at the mere sight of it, let alone the taste."

  Just the mention of Rachel's wedding cake did make Tina feel like crying. She was happy for her sister, of course, and for Jason, but with her own heart shattered into tiny pieces, it was more than a little difficult to get excited about a wedding reception.

  Reid had made several attempts to talk with her since she'd walked out of his office, but she'd coolly and quickly ended any discussion he'd tried to have with her. What was the point in discussing what could never be? It was impossible to date openly, and dangerous to date secretly.

  Maybe it was for the best, she thought. They hadn't known each other that long. Surely it would only hurt more later when he decided to move on, she told herself. But it didn't make her feel any better, and she couldn't imagine any pain worse than what she felt in her chest right now.

  "Abraham Danforth's secretary called this morning and ordered three hundred pastries for Saturday," Mariska said to everyone. "We will need extra hands to have them ready for delivery by four."

  Tina's fingers tightened on the towel in her hand. Just hearing the name Danforth made her heart skip, but she forced herself to remain calm. She knew her family was concerned about her since she'd ended her relationship with Reid. She didn't want them to worry or fuss over her, was afraid she might break down if they did.

  She'd convinced them all she'd be fine, that Reid had understood why they could never be more than friends. It was ridiculous, of course. She knew she could never truly just be friends with Reid. Not when every time she saw him she wanted to wrap herself around him, wanted to feel his heartbeat against hers, his mouth on her lips.

  She shook the dangerous thoughts off, set down the pan she'd dried, then picked up another without missing a beat.

  "We will all have to be ready for the party by six-thirty," Mariska continued. "Cocktails are at seven and dinner is at eight."

  Party? Tina's hand stilled on the cake pan.

  The party. At Crofthaven. What seemed like a lifetime ago, Nicola had invited all the volunteers at the orientation meeting to come to a campaign-kick-off celebration. Tina silently groaned. She'd completely forgotten. And when she realized the party was only two days from now, her heart jackhammered against her ribs.

  Oh, dear God! She couldn't possibly go. Couldn't look at Reid, couldn't even be in the same room with him. Here at the bakery was one thing, but at a party? Without the formality of work and the solid wall of a counter between them, she would fall apart for certain.

  "Tina?"

  She glanced up sharply and looked at her mother. "What?"

  "Will you be all right?" Mariska asked softly. "You do not have to go if you do not want to."

  "Of course I'm going." The way everyone was watching her, with sympathy in their eyes, she knew she had to go. She needed to prove to her family that she was over Reid. This would be the perfect opportunity. She would laugh, she would smile, maybe even flirt a little, though she'd rather pick blackberries in high heels, naked.

  She imagined the feeling would be somewhat the same.

  "Are you sure?
" Sophia asked softly.

  "I told you." Tina shrugged casually and reached for another pan to dry. "Reid and I are still friends. I'll be fine."

  Her father grunted, and she wasn't sure if the sound was directed at her or the oven he was cleaning.

  It didn't matter, she told herself. As difficult as it would be, she would go to the party, and for everyone's sake, she would pretend she was having a wonderful time.

  * * *

  It was nearly midnight when Reid walked through his front door. He'd spent the day at his father's campaign headquarters, but the escalating crisis with the lost container had kept him at his Danforth & Co. office until after eleven. Maximilian Paper Products' shipping department had been screaming at Reid's office to find the container immediately, and Reid had decided to handle the problem himself. Fortunately, the error had turned up on Maximilian's end when Reid discovered that one of the office workers had transposed a docking number. Once the mistake had been cleared, Reid had finally been able to go home.

  Not that it much mattered to him where he went. If anything, he'd rather stay at work and deal with angry clients. It was much easier than coming home to an empty apartment. Much easier than sleeping alone in his bed, thinking about Tina. Remembering the way she'd looked lying in his bed, with her hair tousled and her eyes glazed with passion.

  He missed her smile, the way her brow arched when she was surprised. The way she said his name. When she was annoyed, it was "Reid!" short and clipped. When she smiled, it was "Reid," warm and soft. When they'd made love it was breathless, "Reid…"

  He couldn't get her out of his head, though God knew he'd tried. Other than a polite hello every time he'd gone into the bakery, she hadn't actually spoken to him for ten days. Ten days, dammit!

  He dropped his keys on his entry table and dragged a hand through his hair. If she refused to talk to him, how the hell were they supposed to work out this problem?

  But the real question was, could they?

  Sighing, he slipped out of his coat, tossed it over a living room chair, then sank down on the sofa. He'd gone over what she'd told him a hundred times, looking for a loophole somewhere, but he hadn't found one. Any kind of open confrontation with her grandfather would put her family in peril, and if he and Tina continued to see each other, the press would most certainly find out and dig into her family's background. Ultimately they would find out something. They always did. And no matter how small something was, how insignificant, it would be sensationalized. His father's campaign would be hurt, and though Reid seriously doubted Tina's father would be deported or go to jail, he still stood the danger of his reputation being tarnished.