by Snow, Wylie
He rubbed his nose against hers and kissed her mouth.
“Wait,” she said, turning aside. “Do I have onion breath?”
“If I said yes but told you that you taste absolutely delicious, would you let me keep kissing you?”
She gave him a sombre laugh and placed her palm against his chest, over his thrumming heart.
“Thank you. Thank you for saying that.” A heavy sigh told him she wasn’t finished. “I can’t do this anymore, Luc. I’m tired of the lies, keeping up the pretences. I think it’s best if I resign from EuroNow, from BMG.”
He went absolutely rigid. “No. Absolutely not. You can’t.” Luc sat up, feeling as though he’d been doused with ice water. “Not now, not yet.”
“There’s no other choice. I’ve had months to deal with this, months to ignore it—that hasn’t worked, by the way—and I can’t go on lying to everyone. I’ve got to do it before Bartel finds out, before it goes public and I’m shown up for a fraud.”
“Public? Whoa, what makes you think it’ll go public? Who else knows?”
“Lydia, you—”
“Charlie?”
“He does now. That’s why I was recalled. He’s in an absolute dither and I’m only back here with you because he’s terrified of Bartel finding out. He told me to finish the blog tour, that he’d decide what to do with me when I return to England, but the more I’ve stewed over this, I realize there’s only one possible option. Come morning, I’m going to draft up a letter of resignation to BMG. I needn’t give a reason, but it’ll take the pressure off of Charlie.” Clara reached up and skimmed her fingertips along Luc’s stubbled cheek. “And me.”
“But you can’t!” Great. Now he felt hysterical.
“I have to. It’s not just my and little EuroNow’s reputations at stake anymore, it’s BMG. It’s you and Riley and everyone there. If this got out, it could bring lawsuits. Charlie was right. I didn’t think about the implications because I was so caught up in my own little drama, but if this goes public, oh my God, Luc, if this goes public, do you know what a litigious mess there would be? I might end up in jail for fraud. I could single-handedly bring down a media empire.”
She was right. He didn’t know anything about European law, but every American establishment they critiqued, whether the reviews were good or bad, would be holding out their bank bags for BMG settlements.
“But why now, Clara? There’s only a few more weeks left. Why tonight? What does this have to do with you leaving the game early and coming home in tears?”
“That has everything to do with who took your ticket and the fact that she’s using the information against me.”
“She?” he said. But Clara didn’t need to answer. “Valentina.” His fingers curled into fists.
He should have known she had something to do with this, that her sudden appearance was more than a matter of Bartel’s convenience, more than a simple coincidence. Luc’s head felt ready to explode.
“Tell me everything,” he said and stood to pace. He didn’t want Clara touching him when his body throbbed with anger. And as she related the details of the encounter, his blood turned to lava. “I’ll take care of this,” he said, careful to keep his voice from betraying his rage.
“No, it’s fine, Luc.”
“No, it’s not fine. It’s definitely not fine.” Luc wanted to put his fist through the wall, but instead pulled his phone from his pocket, his fingers shaking as he tried to punch in her number. “I could throttle that fucking bi—”
“Stop!” Clara said, snatching his phone away. “This is not about you, it’s not your problem, and I’ve no intention of letting you interfere.” She tossed the phone onto the bed. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”
What? She was nuts if she thought he’d sit by and let Valentina harass her. “I’ll do no such—”
“Promise me! This is my monster. And the only way I know how to slay it is by beheading. If I resign, she can’t use this against me.”
Luc huffed. “Beheading the monster. Nice imagery.”
“It was, wasn’t it?”
“But you can’t leave now. I won’t let you abandon me in the middle of this blasted tour.” Luc grabbed her upper arms, reminded himself to be gentle and not shake her in his blind rage over Val. “I’ll figure something out, okay?”
“No. Just no. I can’t and won’t ask you to do that. I’ve asked too much of everyone already. Lydia’s probably booked her plane ticket by now. This all has to stop.”
Luc dropped her arms and dug his fingers into his hair. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her, God damn it. “Why didn’t you tell me from the beginning? This could have been much easier on both of us.”
“How was I supposed to work that in? Nice to meet you, can’t wait to work together. And by the way, I can’t smell shit. Bloody hell, Luc, we hardly got off to a good start if you recall.”
“Later then, once we’d, y’know, found our stride.”
“Probably for the same reason you weren’t forthcoming about your issue with public venues.”
Touché. He shrugged, which was his own way of conceding that yes, he was an asshole.
“Besides,” she said in a softer voice, one that quelled his inner beast. “I didn’t want to bother you with my problems when you were dealing with your own.”
Luc framed her face, brushed her lips with his thumb. “But I’m much more interested in yours.”
Chapter 29
Their second radio interview, scheduled obscenely early in order to reach commuters, meant little sleep. But even bone-tired, Luc and Clara managed to zing and jab with just the right amount of collegial banter and sexual chemistry.
On their way out of the station, the sports guys converged on Luc. She attempted to step back, let Luc have a moment with his colleagues, but he wouldn’t let go of her hand, squeezing it in such a way that reminded her of his aversion to strangers, especially groups of strangers. Weeks ago, talk of trades and salary caps would have bored her to crumbs but because some of the names and teams sounded familiar, Clara found herself listening intently, annoyed when her phone vibrated against her hip.
“Colin can’t meet until next week Thursday,” Lydia said. “Will that give you enough time to have your way with lover boy?”
“He knows,” Clara whispered and retreated into a quiet corner. “I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I told him everything last night.”
“You don’t sound like you’re standing on the edge of a bridge, darling, so I’ll assume he took the news well?”
“He did, Lyds. It was hard and I was a mess, but he was understanding, compassionate, and all around wonderful.”
“I’ll alert the Vatican. In the meantime, what did he say about his ex-lover campaigning against you?”
“Naturally, he offered to deal with her, but I told him I fight my own battles. With your help, of course.”
“And possibly an anvil dropped from a very high place,” Lydia said with the barest trace of humor. “Us against the world, darling. Now, my question is, does a week from Thursday work, or is that too early for you? I can try and push her into the following week if you like.”
Clara’s hands and forehead went clammy. Next week was… too soon! “I’d love for you to push for the following week, Lyds, but I hate to have you on hold like this. Aren’t you supposed to be job hunting?”
“Never mind me, darling. My only concern is that if we make Valentina wait too long and she gets pissy for any reason, we run the risk of her tattling to Kingsley Bartel.”
Clara sighed. “No, you’re instincts are spot on. I think you should stick to next week Thursday and I’ll have to pray she’s satisfied and backs down.”
“Right. I don’t suppose you’ll still be in New York then, in case I need an accomp
lice?”
“No, sorry. Washington or Atlanta, I believe.”
“Good luck then, darling, and don’t worry about a thing. I’ll speak to you anon.”
Riley, bless his cotton socks, was waiting for them at the restaurant when Clara and Luc arrived for lunch.
“You are a sight for sore eyes, Miss Bean,” he said as he hugged her.
“I’ve been reduced to a cliché, Mr. Sutter?” she said and kissed both his cheeks, French style.
“I can’t help it. Your beauty stuns the originality right out of me.”
He turned to give Luc a man-embrace, the one where they don’t get close but sort of bang on each other’s arms. “Frogman. Ever tried sleep? Or are you hoping your laundry will fit in those bags?”
“Lumpy mattress,” Luc replied.
“Ah gee, princess…did you check underneath it for a pea?”
Clara beamed, so damned glad to be back in the middle of The Luc and Riley Show. They made her laugh out loud and forget her worries, and their conversation more than made up for the unremarkable food. West Rosa’s, by unanimous decision, was declared a gastronomic dud, but that didn’t prevent them from wiling away the rest of the afternoon over pitchers of passable sangria.
“Excuse me, gents,” Clara said, excusing herself from the table when her phone rang. “I’ve got to get that.”
Expecting Lydia’s voice didn’t prepare her for the shock of hearing Valentina on the other end of the line saying, “You two aren’t playing me, are you?”
All the blood in her body seemed to rush to her head in throbbing waves. “What are you talking about?”
“Next Thursday? What the hell am I supposed to do for ten days?” she demanded. “You and Lydia better not be screwing me around, Clara Bean, because I’m going to call Brastow’s secretary and if I find out he has so much as five minutes free before next Thursday, I’m going to have a chat with Kingsley.”
Clara pushed through the restaurant’s main door and sucked in a chest full of cool air. “No one is screwing you around, Val,” she said and leaned against the brick exterior to support her shaky knees. “If Lydia says Brastow isn’t available until Thursday, then he’s not available. And trust me, neither of us wants this to play out longer than it needs to,” she lied.
“Fine, then. That still leaves me hanging for over a week. Sure hope you like chatting with me, Clara dear, because I’ll have to fill the time somehow. Or hey, you know what’s better than a daily phone call? I’ll join your little blog tour!”
“I don’t think so,” Clara said, peeking into the front window of the restaurant at Luc and Riley, who were laughing about something. Damn it, she was missing another good story, thanks to Miss Bitch-America. “Three’s a crowd.”
“I can call Shelagh, find out your travel schedule…in fact, why don’t I meet you at the restaurant for dinner tonight?”
She wished she had something to stick needles into, like a blonde-headed doll. “Yes, why don’t you? We’ll be at West Rosa’s around seven tonight. If we’re late, just go ahead and order. I hear the halibut is scrumptious. Ta!”
Clara pushed through the glass door and paused at the hostess stand. Maybe pissing Valentina off wasn’t her wisest move. “Would it be possible for me to leave a message for someone coming in for dinner this evening?” she asked.
The rest of her afternoon was ruined.
“Everything alright, love?” Luc asked as they were leaving.
“Fine.”
“Now see…when someone really is fine, they don’t say ‘fine’ between clenched teeth.”
Clara forced herself to smile brightly. “Fine! Better?”
“Not really. Who was on the phone? Charlie?”
“No,” she said, keeping her tone light. “Nobody. Doesn’t matter.”
She didn’t want to bring it up in front of Riley. Or Luc, for that matter. She hated that Valentina made her feel vulnerable, and that brought out her inner bitch. “I just want my carriage ride through Central Park now, please. And maybe a taxi tour around the city before you shuffle me off to another hockey game.”
“Oh, hey, speaking of the game,” Riley said. “Mind if I join you?”
This time, Clara’s smile was genuine. “Nothing would please me more, Mr. Sutter.”
Luc stormed past the sleepy concierge with a curt, “I’m expected,” and proceeded to the elevator that would take him to the penthouse level.
He had waited until Clara’s breathing was deep and steady before sneaking out of bed and making his way uptown to Bartel’s New York apartment. It had bothered him earlier, when Clara wouldn’t share whatever had upset her at the restaurant, so while she showered before leaving for the hockey game, he checked her cell phone history of incoming calls. Yes, it was wrong, but when he recognized Val’s number, he felt his invasion of privacy was justified. She might not want his help slaying the beast, but he felt somewhat responsible for introducing the beast into the story.
A phone call on the way over confirmed the King wasn’t in residence. Not that his presence would have stopped Luc, but it would have made the confrontation rather awkward.
“Explain.”
Valentina knew he was coming, but hadn’t bothered to dress. She opened the door in nothing more than a short robe, tied loosely around the waist, the neckline plunging to reveal her nakedness beneath.
“Hey baby,” she purred. “Come on in.”
“This isn’t a social visit, Val, and I have no interest in coming in.”
Val gave her head a toss and laughed like she had the world by the balls. She pivoted on her toes and began to walk away. Luc, blood pounding in his head, grabbed for her arm but caught only the thin material of her robe.
Mistake.
“Oh baby,” she said, not bothering to cover her exposed breast. “I didn’t know you liked it rough.” She fingered the knot in her belt. “Shall I? Or would you like to rip it off me?”
“Stop playing games, Val,” he said, concentrating on her face.
“Well, stop acting truculent and shut the door,” she said and walked away.
Luc scrubbed his face with his hands and followed. He needed to rein in his anger, get control of the situation, or he’d lose it.
He found her in the living room, pouring amber liquid from a crystal decanter, the wall-to-wall windows behind her showing off a spectacular view of the skyline.
“Well, if you’re not here to fuck me,” she said, handing him a tumbler, “I’m guessing this must be about your girlfriend.”
Luc took a swig of Bartel’s exquisite single malt and let the burning in his throat dull his annoyance before answering. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I can.”
“Don’t you get tired of using people?”
“Oh blah, blah, blah. You sound just like her.” She laughed again. “Please don’t tell me you buy that naivety act.”
Luc said nothing, clenching his back teeth so hard, he worried his molars would crack.
“Baby, you know better than anyone that you can’t get to the top without breaking a few rules.”
“She’s not like that, Val. And any rules I ever broke were part of a game, not this real-life, destroy-someone’s-future shit that you’re pulling.”
Val took a small sip of her drink, made a face, and set her glass down. “How can you boys drink this? It’s like lava.” She strode to the windows and closed the blinds. When she turned to face Luc, her robe hung open, revealing her breasts and clean-shaven pussy. “Let’s make up a new game then, shall we, baby?”
“Val, stop.”
She sauntered over, letting the robe slip from her shoulders, not an ounce of modesty in her movement. “You give me one night and I’ll go to my grave with Clara’s little
secret.”
“Why?”
“Because I miss you.”
“So this is about me? All this scheming and manipulating is to get me back?”
“Good heavens, no. Really, Luc…the ego.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her nakedness against his thin tee shirt. “This is about opportunity, about getting ahead, about power and lust and great sex. You and me, baby. Just tonight.”
Luc stiffened, every muscle in his body tensed to the extreme. Sensing it, Valentina pushed him away and hid her shock with another laugh. “Oh. My. God. You’re in love with her.” She shook her head. “I don’t get it, baby.”
Luc picked up her robe and handed it to her. “No Val, you wouldn’t.”
She slipped it on but didn’t bother with the belt. “You’re wrong about me, you know. I’m not heartless. I tried to tell her that, too. I’ve just never been foolish enough to let simple emotions stand in the way of my success.”
“Clearly.”
“I suppose I should be impressed. If she managed to snag you, she must be okay.”
“She’s more than okay.”
“I was surprised to see her, though. She’s not a shark like her friend Lydia, and nothing like I’d pictured.”
“What exactly did you expect?”
“I don’t know. A lazy eye, a speech impediment, a facial tic.”
Luc narrowed his eyes. “Why would you think that?”
“The brain damage,” she said, giving him a look of impatience. “I thought it would be more obvious.”
She doesn’t know.
And incredible stroke of luck he hadn’t anticipated.
“You don’t know what’s wrong with Clara and yet you blackmailed her with it?”
“Well, I knew it was something serious when I asked Charlie what happened to her in Rome and he got all flummoxed. A few hours later, he calls, begging me to not say a word about the incident to Kingsley. He’s such a bumbling fool, isn’t he? Like a caricature of himself.
