by Cat Schield
“I’m not insulted,” Violet said, a fond look in her eyes. “I love Las Vegas. And I love running my hotel. I’m not really cut out to sit in endless meetings and read reports all day.” But Harper knew Violet was downplaying how serious her decision had been.
At Scarlett’s urging, Harper sipped at the sparkling wine, but the effervescent liquid didn’t ignite joy or even relief. As soon as Ashton’s restaurant opened, she would head to New York and have a face-to-face chat with her grandfather. Until she knew his thoughts on her future with the company, she wouldn’t let herself hope her dreams were coming true.
In a state of conflicting emotions, Harper ate her salad in silence and listened to Violet and Scarlett with half her attention. Both of them were madly in love with wonderful men. It was hard for Harper to contribute to the conversation. Listening to them discuss Violet’s upcoming belated honeymoon and Scarlett’s wedding arrangements demonstrated just how two-dimensional Harper’s life was. She had her work and her sisters. Both meant everything to her, but after spending the evening with Ashton, she couldn’t help feeling as if she was missing out on something important.
“I got an update from Logan a little before you showed up today,” Scarlett said, catching Harper’s eye. “He said his people have tracked the million your mother wired to the blackmailer.” Scarlett didn’t explain how this had been done and Harper refrained from asking, expecting that the methods were not official. “It went through several banks before it landed in an account belonging to some guy named Saul Eddings. The strange part is he doesn’t seem to exist.”
So, the blackmailer was clever. Harper had been racking her brains for days trying to figure out who could have dug up a thirty-year-old affair. Why wait until now to trade the information for money?
“What’s going on?” Violet asked.
“My mother is being blackmailed.”
“Your mother?” Violet shot Scarlett a worried look. “Blackmailed about what?”
“Ancient history,” Harper explained, wondering what was causing Violet’s escalating tension. “Apparently she had an affair thirty years ago.”
Violet whirled on Scarlett. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”
“No.” Scarlett eyes grew hard as she stared at Violet.
“She needs to know.”
“I need to know what?” Harper demanded, alarmed by the sudden animosity between her sisters.
“It won’t help,” Scarlett said. “Logan will find out who’s doing this and he and Lucas will take care of it. So, you need to just let it go.”
“Have you thought of what’s best for Harper?”
“Repeatedly.” Scarlett could be a force of nature when she sank her teeth into something. “Drop it.”
Harper couldn’t take it anymore. “Stop it, both of you. I need to know what’s going on. Who’s blackmailing my mother?”
“I don’t know,” Scarlett admitted, as somber as Harper had ever seen her.
Harper persisted. “But you know something about it.”
“I think so.”
“And you weren’t planning on telling me?” The room suddenly felt cold, as if the air conditioners were working at twice their normal capacity. Harper rubbed her arms. “Why?”
“Because no good will come of it,” Scarlett said.
All the more reason for her to know. “It’s about my mother and the affair?”
“Yes.” Violet reached out and took Harper’s icy fingers, rubbing them to bring back some warmth. “Tiberius had files on all of us.”
“I already knew that.”
“Including your mother.”
“When I was attacked and the files were stolen,” Scarlett explained, her voice quiet and reluctant, “the one on your mother was taken.”
“That explains where the photos came from and why the blackmail began now.” One question answered. But was that all there was to the sharp looks and tense exchange between Violet and Scarlett? “Is there more to it?”
“If you don’t tell her, I will,” Violet declared.
“It’s about the timing of the affair,” Scarlett said. “It happened nine months before you were born.”
“That doesn’t mean...” Harper wasn’t sure she wanted to make the connections Scarlett was hinting at. “The affair only lasted two weeks.”
“And from what we’ve determined about your father’s travels, he was gone for almost six weeks around that same time.”
Bile rose in Harper’s throat. It couldn’t be possible. It certainly wasn’t fair.
She wasn’t a Fontaine.
These two wonderful women weren’t her sisters.
She had no right to run Fontaine Ciel, much less become CEO of the company.
Suddenly, Harper couldn’t breathe. She put her hand to her chest. “I have to go.”
She pushed back from the table so abruptly her chair crashed to the ground. Scarlett’s office spun as Harper struggled to figure out where the door had gone.
“Harper, are you okay?”
Okay? Would she ever be okay again?
“Fine. I just remembered that I was going to...” She never finished the sentence. The door had come into view and Harper made for it.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Violet had pursued her from Scarlett’s office into the hallway. “I know this must be a huge shock. But it doesn’t matter. You know that.”
“Of course it matters.” Harper didn’t know how to make Violet understand. Everything she’d worked for. Every sacrifice she’d made. Was it all for nothing? “I’ll talk to you and Scarlett later. Right now I just need to grab some air.”
Scarlett appeared on Harper’s other side, her fingers biting hard into Harper’s arm. “You are our sister. You will be Fontaine’s next CEO. It’s what you’ve always wanted.”
“Of course.” Harper patted Scarlett’s hand. “I get it. This is our secret.”
Violet relaxed. “Exactly.”
“I love you both, but I need to get back to work. I’ll check in with you later.”
And before they could protest further, she briskly walked away.
Instead of retracing her steps through the skyways, she wound through the casino and emerged onto the Vegas Strip. The heat, noise and press of the crowd hit her like a rogue wave. How long had it been since she’d ventured beyond the insulation of Fontaine walls? She slept, ate and worked within a square city block, finding little need to explore the world outside. There was a drugstore attached to the hotel if she needed sundries. When she traveled, it was in a hired car that swept her to the airport and a private plane that carried her to her destination.
Always there was someone around to guide her to meetings and keep her on schedule. She’d never detoured because the mood hadn’t struck her. Her activities were planned and organized. It was the way she liked it. What had made her successful.
With more vigor than necessary, Harper pushed through the ground floor door that led into Fontaine Ciel’s casino. Nothing looked familiar. The persistent noise from the slot machines and the dazzling lights battered her senses. She had no idea how to get to her office. Disoriented, Harper turned in a slow circle. Confusion overwhelmed her. Harper put her arms out for balance as the edges of her vision began to darken.
“Harper, are you okay?”
She couldn’t remember the name of the man who spoke. Distantly she knew she should. That she dealt with him on a daily basis. Tom something. Tim maybe.
“I’m a little dizzy all of a sudden.” She shook her head, hoping to clear her vision. To her right was an open slot machine. “I just need to sit down for a second.” She took a step and swayed.
“Let me help,” Tom or Tim said, reaching for her arm.
She flinched away from his touch. Her skin felt as if it was
on fire. “No.” She reached the chair and dropped into it. “Sorry. I’ll be fine in a couple seconds. Perhaps you could get me a glass of water.”
“Sure.”
While he headed off to intercept a waitress, Harper closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples. Her brain was coming back online, allowing her to think more clearly. What the hell had just happened? From her symptoms she guessed it had been a panic attack. Made sense. Her whole world was spinning out of control.
By the time Tim Hoffman—she’d finally recalled the name of her facilities manager—returned with her water, Harper was on her feet and feeling much steadier. But her need to run hadn’t abated. For someone who always met problems head-on, she wasn’t sure what to make of the impulse to flee. Work wasn’t the remedy for her troubles. It was the cause of her angst. Better that she spend some time alone. To think. To sort out her emotions.
“I should have taken the skyway back from Richesse. Must have been the heat outside that made me dizzy.”
The short, dark-haired man looked relieved. “It’s warmer than usual, that’s for sure.”
“Thanks for the water.” Without another word, Harper headed for the elevators. Maybe an hour on her treadmill would enable her to reach some clarity.
Six
Ashton stretched out on the couch in his suite and stared at the ceiling. Beyond the wall of windows the day was fading and the Las Vegas Strip was lighting up. As much as he loved the fascinating sights he’d seen in some of the most remote spots on the planet, enjoying the luxury of a first-class hotel was an indulgence he appreciated most of all.
Unfortunately, his current career issues weren’t allowing him to put aside his worries and savor the lavender scented sheets, decadent bathroom or spectacular view. Vince had called this morning with bad news. Unless the producers of The Culinary Wanderer received his decision about filming in Africa three days from now they were cancelling the show.
As much as Ashton hated having anyone force his hand, he should be relieved that he would soon be free to sign with the Lifestyle Network. He and Phillips could part without bad feelings. But if everything was so great, why did he feel numb?
A knock sounded on his door. Shoving to a sitting position, Ashton ran his fingers through his hair and got to his feet. Dae had said he’d call later and see if Ashton wanted to check out the Strip. He hadn’t expected the kid to show up.
But it wasn’t Dae. The visitor at his door was so unexpected, he stood staring at her in dumfounded silence.
“Hi.” Harper stood in the hallway wearing stretchy gray pants that highlighted her long, lean legs and an oversized pale pink sweater that she wrapped tight around her body. “I probably should have called before stopping by.” Her casual attire and indecisive posture meant she hadn’t come here to talk business.
“No need. I was just thinking that I could use a little company.” He gestured her inside.
“That’s how I felt, too.” She shuffled in and gazed around the suite as if she hadn’t been instrumental in overseeing every aspect of the design and decor. Sounding dreamy and vague, she continued. “I enjoyed our conversation last night.”
“So did I.” Catching her hand, he drew her toward the couch. “Do you want some wine?”
“Sure.”
He poured glasses for both of them and sat close beside her. Content to enjoy her company, Ashton sipped his wine and watched her. She wore no makeup and that added to the aura of vulnerability that surrounded her at the moment. The scent of jasmine clung to her skin. A trace of damp lingered in the thick wave of brown hair cascading around her delicate shoulders. He guessed she’d been working out recently for a healthy glow suffused her skin.
“Did you always want to be a chef?” With her feet tucked beneath her, she took up very little space, but vibrancy had returned to her voice.
“I sort of stumbled into it.”
The truth wanted to spill out of him. Last night she’d shared a great deal about her childhood and school years. Her openness had tempted him to talk about his own past. But most of the people who knew what he’d done had either been dumped in the African jungle or buried in a shallow grave. An elegant, cultured woman like Harper would be horrified by what it had cost him to survive.
“When I was fifteen,” he began, abandoning the press release version of his past, “I left home and fell in with some bad guys.”
Describing Chapman’s ruthless gang of smugglers as bad guys was woefully inadequate. They’d been a mean bunch of criminals brought together by the most loathsome man Ashton had ever met.
“How bad?”
He pushed back his left sleeve and showed her a pair of long, faint scars on his forearm. “They liked to play with knives.”
“They did this to you? That doesn’t look much like playing. Why did you stick around?”
“Because I was cocky and stubborn. I thought I could take care of myself.” And he’d had nowhere else to go. Ashton brushed his sleeve down. “One of the guys did all the cooking for the gang. He took me under his wing. Kept me away from the worst of the lot. Turns out I had a knack for combining flavors.” Not the whole truth, just a sterilized version of what had really happened.
“Had you planned to do anything else?”
Ashton shrugged. He’d been a stupid, rebellious teenager who’d rarely thought beyond the moment. “I only knew I wasn’t going to follow in my father’s footsteps.”
Her lips twisted into an unhappy grimace. “What did he do?”
“He was a missionary.” He hadn’t planned to disclose that fact. Usually, he told people his father was a salesman. Which was pretty close to the truth. His parents spent their whole lives selling salvation to people who had no idea they were damned.
For the first time since she’d arrived on his doorstep, her eyes brightened. “A missionary? Forgive me if I say that you don’t strike me as the son of a religious man.”
She made no attempt to hide her curiosity. Nor did she curb the trace of laughter in her tone. This wasn’t the withdrawn, mentally drained woman who’d shown up at his door. The cloud that had followed her into his suite had retreated for the moment.
“I could say I’m not and explain that there are all sorts of missionaries in Africa, but my father and mother spent a great deal of my childhood visiting villages and spreading Christian values.”
His muscles grew more taut with each syllable that passed his lips. He began to notice an ache in his shoulders. The pain reminded him that he’d never set down the burden of unfinished business created by his choice to leave home and never look back.
“Wow, that was not a happy memory for you at all.” She set her fingertips on his forearm, her touch light and friendly.
Too bad his heart didn’t recognize the contact as casual. It gave a giant lurch like a racehorse surging from a starting gate. In seconds his breath came more quickly. Usually when desire hit him, he rolled with the blow. Why resist? Beautiful women were their own type of adventure.
But Harper Fontaine wasn’t just a beautiful woman. She was intelligent and ambitious, dynamic and resourceful. When he’d first started working with her, he’d been annoyed by her bluntness and impressed by her sincerity. Last night he’d discovered she was also a warm, passionate woman and the chemistry between them was electrifying.
“What about you?” he asked, turning the topic away from himself. “Did you always want to be a hotel executive?”
“From the time I was five years old.” She smiled fondly. “My father took me to the Waldorf Astoria and I fell in love. It was everything a grand hotel should be. We went at Christmas and the lobby was filled with these enormous evergreen trees covered in white lights and big red and gold balls. The railings were decorated with swags of ribbon and lights. It was magical. I knew I wanted to be a part of that someday.”
> He had little trouble imagining her as a wide-eyed child, holding tight to her father’s hand while she soaked up the magnificence of that fine old hotel. For her, it had probably been as exciting a place to visit as FAO Schwarz would be for most other children.
“I suppose being a Fontaine, hotels are in your blood.”
Her expression changed—the glow in her eyes dimmed, her mouth flattening into a somber line. “What’s it like traveling all over the world like you do?”
“Exciting. Exhausting.” Sometimes he longed to go home. Or at least that’s what he assumed he wanted. He never really felt as if he belonged anywhere. “I crave an ever-changing landscape.”
“That’s so different from what I’m used to.” Setting her elbow on the back of the couch, she propped her head on her hand and sipped her wine. “I’ve never traveled anywhere.”
“I find that hard to believe. There are Fontaine hotels all over the world.”
“Yes, but when I’ve visited the hotels I’ve never had time to sightsee. You said you couldn’t see me shopping in Paris. You were right. I’ve been there three times and never once toured the city.”
“That’s a shame. It’s a wonderful city. I spent two years there attending culinary school and working in various restaurants.” It had been the first place he’d gone after leaving South Africa. At the time, it had seemed the perfect place to re-create himself.
“I spent the first eighteen years of my life in New York City and the next four in Ithaca attending Cornell University.”
“You didn’t want to travel?”
“My parents were separated from the time I was eleven. My mother lived in Florida, and I visited her during the holidays. My father...” She stumbled over the word and appeared distressed for a moment. “He was gone a lot, overseeing various hotels. The company expanded a great deal in the nineties.”
Her childhood sounded as lonely as his had been. “Who did you stay with when your father was away?”
“Servants. Once in a while my grandfather.” Her sweater had slipped off one shoulder, baring the thin strap of her gray camisole. “Is there any place you want to visit but haven’t?”
