“Oh.” She gazed down at her empty hand.
I don’t want this to end.
Nerves fluttered in her chest at the memory of Reece’s words, and she curled her fingers around the stem of her glass. Amazing how after such a short time as Mrs. Wilde, she’d gotten so used to wearing her ring that she now felt naked without it.
“Shelby?” Alicia’s expression filled with alarm. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything’s fine. But we, uh…” She floundered for a moment, grasping for an excuse, then decided the truth was the best course of action. Since there was a police report, the robbery would probably be posted in the newspaper tomorrow. “Well, honestly, we were robbed earlier this evening.”
The women all gasped.
“Then why on earth are you here tonight?” Alicia asked, eyes wide.
Shelby sipped her champagne to wet her suddenly parched throat. “Reece wanted to cancel, but I told him no. This is exactly what we need to take our minds off the robbery.”
“Oh my goodness.” Charlotte James pressed a hand over her diamond necklace as if protecting it. “Nothing too valuable was taken, I hope.”
What a materialistic bitch.
Shelby winced at the venom in her thoughts. Maybe Reece was right and they should have cancelled, because she was finding it so much harder than usual to play her part for these women. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and all she really wanted to do was go home with Reece, curl up on the couch, and watch a Japanese monster movie together.
“No,” she managed, beating down her annoyance. “Just my ring, a few paintings, and Reece’s laptop. Not the business one,” she added. She didn’t want Charlotte saying something to her husband about DMW having shoddy security. “The business files are all perfectly safe.”
Charlotte fanned herself with one dainty hand. “Oh, you poor thing. I don’t know how you’re so calm about it all. I’d be an absolute wreck!”
“I’ll tell you how she’s so calm.” Lena Schilling, who had been lurking like a vulture on the outskirts of their little circle, pushed her way forward. “Shelby’s used to dealing with scum. Isn’t that right?”
Unable to keep a straight face, Shelby scowled at the woman. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do.” She leaned in close and her breath reeked of vodka. “I know all about you, Shelby Wilde. Or should I call you Shelby Bremer? Though you’re certainly not from the California Bremers like we thought.”
Oh, no. No, no, no. A cold sweat broke out at her temples, and she resisted the urge to swipe at it. “You’re drunk, Lena. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Shelby Bremer, not of the California Bremers, daughter of Katrina, a drug addict and occasional prostitute. And from the looks of things, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She pulled a handful of photographs from her jewel-studded purse and flung them. They scattered across the floor.
The blackmailer’s photos. All of them. Stills from the video of her and Reece together at The Bean Gallery. The Vegas hotel photos. The not-so-flattering pictures of her before she decided she needed to straighten up her life…
All of it, laid out right there on the floor for everyone to see.
Charlotte scooped up several of the photos, her face white. “What is all this?”
“Blackmail,” Shelby whispered and her stomach twisted. “It was you.”
Lena scoffed. “I’m merely exposing a fake.” Puffed up with righteous indignation, she faced Charlotte. “She doesn’t belong in high society. She doesn’t even belong in the middle class. She’s nothing but white trash, and Reece only married her because he got caught slumming and was afraid of losing your husband’s approval.”
“Oh,” Charlotte breathed, and her cheeks flushed bright red as she flipped through the photos. “This is…disgusting.” She spared Shelby a contemptuous glance before scurrying away, pictures in hand. No doubt she was going to find her husband.
It was over. Just like she’d told Reece it would be. Only she hadn’t expected the end to come so soon. Or so publicly.
Shelby whirled around, needing to get away, to go somewhere else. Anywhere else. She felt as if every eye in the room was staring at her, judging her. Imagined the scornful whispers, the derisive jokes they’d all say about her.
She spotted a doorway not blocked by people and lurched toward it, but Alicia grabbed her arm.
“Shelby, wait—”
“No. I…can’t stay here. I can’t—” Voice cracking, she shook off Alicia’s grip and raced from the ballroom.
White trash.
God. How foolish of her to think a dye job and a bit of makeup would be enough to hide what she was.
The more Reece listened to Irving James talk, the more he was sure he didn’t want to tie his company to the man in any way, shape, or form. For so long, he’d thought it was wrong to let his personal feeling of distaste get in the way of business, but fuck that. It was his business and, from here on out, he was only making deals that felt good. No more of this acid-like feeling in his gut or worrying whether he’d do or say the wrong thing and offend the wrong person. He’d figure out another way to keep Wilde Security afloat that wasn’t akin to selling his soul to this devil. In fact, he was ninety percent certain he’d already found another way thanks to the genius of Cliff McWilliam. He’d been so zeroed in on the deal with James that he hadn’t noticed the way out of Wilde Security’s financial crisis was sitting right under his feet in the basement of DMW.
He’d been so stupid. Stupid and tunnel-visioned. And if it wasn’t for Shelby opening his eyes to all kinds of possibilities he’d never considered, he may very well still be that short-sighted man.
All right. Enough was enough.
Reece opened his mouth to tell Irving James the deal was off, but he never got the chance. Charlotte bustled over and shoved something into her husband’s hand. Crossing her arms, she glared at Reece like he was a cockroach.
And he knew. Even before James’s eyes bugged and his face flushed red, he knew the jig was up.
“W-Wilde,” James sputtered and held up the photos. “Explain this!”
He should probably be panicking right now, but all he felt was a giddy rush of relief. He laughed. “I don’t owe you a damn thing.” He turned to go find Shelby and get the hell out of here, but stopped short. “Wait. Yes, I do have something to say. I’ve been so busy trying to kiss your ass I was ruining the best thing I’ve ever had, forcing her to change herself to suit your antiquated view of how a woman should act and what a marriage should be. Yeah, well, fuck you. DMW is pulling out of this deal.” He grabbed the photos from James’s hand. “Have a nice night.”
There was a distinct bounce in his step as he left the ballroom. He’d just committed social suicide, and he felt like dancing. Hell, maybe he would take Shelby dancing.
Except then he saw her standing on the front steps of the building, shivering, tears freezing on her cheeks, and his good mood died a slow, painful death. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her.
“Shelby, baby. What are you doing out here without your coat?”
“Y-you have the valet ticket. And the car keys. I couldn’t leave, but I couldn’t stay in there. The pictures are out. It was Lena. Your blackmailer.”
She was like an ice cube, and he pulled her into him, rubbed her back to generate some warmth. “It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“How can you say that?” Yanking free of his arms, she plopped down on the steps and hid her face behind her hands. “I’ve ruined everything for you. I always ruin everything.”
“You didn’t ruin anything. I promise you didn’t.” He wanted to tell her that he’d spent the entire day at DMW, discussing Cliff’s A.I. side project and that he saw so much potential there, he didn’t think they needed Irving James after all. They onl
y had to shift DMW’s direction a bit—but it all hinged on selling the idea to Tucker Quentin, and he didn’t dare say anything out loud for fear of jinxing it.
So, instead, he pulled her hands away from her face and crouched to put himself in her line of sight. “What can I do to make tonight better?”
“Nothing.”
“Of course there’s something. What do you like to do to blow off steam?”
She hesitated.
“Shelby?”
She exhaled hard. “Usually I’d go to a club, lose myself in the music and the crowd, but—”
“All right. Where to?”
“You want to take me to a club? Dressed like this?”
“I want to do something that makes you happy for once. If that means going to a club in black-tie attire, let’s do it.”
She eyed him like he’d lost his mind. “Who are you? You’re not the Reece Wilde I know.”
He wasn’t entirely sure, but he liked this new version of himself. He felt lighter than he had in years. Chains he hadn’t even known he’d been wearing were breaking, falling off, and he suspected she played a major role in his newfound freedom.
“Well, someone once said I wouldn’t know spontaneity if it slapped me upside the head.” He grinned and stood. Held out a hand. “Help me prove that person wrong.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
There was a line around the block waiting to get into the club. Reece eyed the throng of people as he climbed out of the Escalade. “Why is everyone dressed in white?”
Shelby showed the first hint of a smile since leaving the gala. “You’ll see. C’mon.” She grasped his hand and pulled him to a side entrance. “We don’t have to wait in line. I know the bouncers.”
The big tattooed man guarding the side door grinned toothily when he saw her coming. “Hey, baby doll. Look at you, all dressed up. What you been up to?”
“Oh, you know, Eddy. Same old, same old. Getting in trouble. Getting married.” She held up their interlaced hands. “Think you can let a couple of newlyweds sneak in?”
Eddy’s wide face lit up. “You got yourself married, baby doll? Well, didn’t see that coming.” He stepped aside, waved them in, and handed Shelby a card. “Go on. And give Meg at the bar this, tell her I says your drinks are on the house tonight. Wedding present.”
“Thank you, Eddy. You’re the best.” She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek, then pulled Reece into the crush of light and sound and people. It was blinding, disorienting, but Shelby seemed to know how to navigate it, so he followed her lead to the bar. She had to lean over the polished metal surface and shout to be heard, but Meg the bartender seemed to understand what she was saying just fine. Meg took the card and disappeared, returning a moment later with two tall glasses of neon-blue liquid.
Reece choked out a laugh when Shelby handed it to him. “What the fuck is this?”
“I don’t know. I told her to make us something yummy and strong. To spontaneity.” She clinked her glass to his. “Cheers.”
He had to admit, the concoction was “yummy,” as Shelby had called it. Fruity, but with a kick to it. Before he knew it, his glass was gone and there was a pleasant buzz inside his head. He was enjoying himself and liked watching Shelby relax into her own skin. She had a smile for everyone she ran in to, even if she didn’t know them.
A fast, infectious beat started and Shelby grabbed his hand, dragging him out onto the dance floor, which was packed with people. She melted into the beat, eyes closed, hips swinging, hands in the air, and the sight of her throwing herself so completely into the music reminded him of when he was young and his parents used to dance together across the kitchen. They’d been so in tune with the music, with each other, and even as a child, he’d known he was witnessing something beautiful.
He was witnessing something beautiful now, too.
Shelby laughed and grabbed hold of his shoulders, wiggling them. “Loosen up, Reece! Dance!”
He hadn’t danced since his parents died. And, dammit, they had both loved to dance. Together, apart. It hadn’t mattered. If there was music playing, David and Meredith Wilde had been dancing.
What a way to not honor their memory.
Reece swayed a bit on his feet, but he felt awkward and foolish. No way was he getting his hips or arms involved in this disaster. He’d end up looking like one of those inflatable arm-flailing tube men and scare Shelby right into an annulment.
She moved in close and tugged on his bowtie until it fell loose. Having her so close, moving like she was, sparked a blaze inside him. He needed to touch her, skin to skin, and circled his hands around her hips, found himself moving with her. His heart kept time with the beat and he lowered his head, intending to kiss her—
The music screeched to a halt, and the room plunged into darkness, only to be relit by the eerie purple glow of black lights.
Shelby smiled up at him. “Here it comes.”
“What?”
Something like a cannon fired, and the music exploded back to life as neon glow-in-the-dark paint rained down over the thrilled crowd.
Shelby laughed and tilted her head back, letting the paint splash across her face and chest. She should have looked out of place in her gown, with her hair piled on top of her head in an elegant twist, as paint rained down on her—but she didn’t. She looked more like Shelby now, covered in streaks of neon green and pink and purple, than she had since they left Vegas. And that, more than anything else, made him feel like a complete ass for asking her to change. All of the color and brightness that made up the core of her being belonged on her clothes, in her hair, and written on her skin in ink.
Reece snaked a hand around the back of her neck, crushed her to him, and captured her mouth. She yielded to the domination of his lips and together they moved to the beat of the music. He didn’t hear cannons spew more paint or the shouts of joy as it rained down. He didn’t worry about looking stupid or about the bridges he’d burned tonight. Everything else faded away as his world narrowed to her.
And they danced.
It was late by the time they returned home, laughing and covered in dried paint. Shelby started stripping as soon as she set foot in the apartment, suggestively sliding one strap of her dress off her shoulder, then the other…
Dumbstruck and a little drunk, Reece watched her striptease, the way the sleek fabric caressed her body as she let it slide down to pool around her waist.
She turned to him, crooked a finger. “I think we need a shower, don’t you?”
Oh, yeah. They definitely, absolutely, without a doubt needed a shower.
He made sure the door was locked and reached to pull off his bowtie, only to discover he’d lost it somewhere during the night. Fine by him. One less article of clothing between him and the woman he wanted more than he wanted his next breath. He wasn’t careful with his vest or shirt, popping buttons as he fumbled to get them off. Shelby laughed and whirled around like she intended to race him, but only made it a few steps before skidding to a halt in the still torn-apart living room.
She crumpled to the floor as if the weight of the night had finally gotten too heavy to hold on her shoulders. Three long strides had him by her side and scooping her into his arms.
She curled into him. “I almost forgot.”
“We are forgetting it, okay? Just until tomorrow. Tonight was too good to end it on a sad note.” He carried her into the master bathroom and started the shower, setting her down under the warm spray. Fuck. He was still in his pants. He left the shower again long enough to strip and grab a washcloth from the linen closet. When he returned, she still hadn’t moved.
This wasn’t what he’d wanted. The whole point of taking her to a club had been to forget about the rest of the night. Stupid man that he was, he hadn’t even considered how she’d feel to return home to the mess her mother had made. Should have called one of his brothers to come over and straighten things while they were gone.
With his heart breaking for her, he soape
d up the washcloth and ran it down her arm. Layers of paint and the makeup obscuring her tattoos washed away, and he reveled in each new inch of ink he uncovered. He smoothed his lips in the wake of the cloth, over the flowers and dragon crawling up her arm. He kissed each of the colorful birds taking flight on her collarbones. They were perfect representations of Shelby—bright, unrestrained, and full of vitality.
He straightened and stared down into her eyes, combing her wet hair back with his fingers. “I don’t ever want you to cover these up again.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes and spilled over to mingle with the shower water already sprinkling her face. “Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin you—”
“You can’t.” He cradled her face in his hands. “Listen, Shelby, you can’t ruin me. How could you? I’m a better person with you.”
Her breath hitched. “But all of your friends—”
“Fuck them. They’re not my friends. They’re all uptight, snobby assholes, and I want nothing more to do with them. You are more important to me than maintaining whatever unattainable status quo they’ve set. I’m in love with you.”
“Oh no.” Sobbing openly now, she broke away from him and covered her face with both hands. “Oh, Reece, you can’t be. You can’t be. You have no idea what I’ve done…”
“I don’t care.”
“You have to care.”
“Sweetheart…” How to make her understand? He was under no illusions—he knew her past wasn’t pretty. But tonight, as he’d watched her crumple under the scrutiny of his contemporaries, then rebuild herself while dancing covered in splatter paint, he’d realized her past didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because the future was what mattered, and they could build an amazing one together. More than that, he wanted a future with her. He loved the color and unpredictability she brought into his life.
But he saw that he wasn’t going to convince her of it right now. No matter what he said, she wasn’t going to believe him.
He pulled her into his arms again, smoothing a hand over her hair and back. The water had run cool and goose bumps roughened her skin, tremors racing just underneath. “Let’s go to bed.”
Wilde at Heart Page 20
