Grabbing her iPad so that she could catch up on emails, Zandra made her way to the living room and turned on the television. She surfed disinterestedly through channels before settling on the noon news.
She’d just opened her email app when the newscaster announced, “In breaking developments this afternoon, just one week after announcing his bid for mayor, City Alderman Landis Kennedy has already run into a buzz saw that has his campaign in full damage control mode.”
Zandra’s head snapped up as the anchor continued speaking. “Kennedy’s political troubles began when sources revealed that his daughter, Zandra Kennedy, is the owner of a local escort agency named Elite For You Companions. Miss Kennedy, who’s been in business for five years, is considered something of a power broker on Chicago’s arts scene, sought by many for her fundraising prowess.”
Zandra froze, watching as photos of her at various functions flashed across the television screen.
“But raising money for charitable causes might not be Miss Kennedy’s only passion,” the news anchor continued with amused glee. “At a recent museum gala, Kennedy was spotted leaving a restroom with a man identified as powerful CEO Remington Brand.”
The blood drained from Zandra’s head as a picture of her and Remy filled the screen. Remy was adjusting his tie while Zandra glanced furtively around, making sure the coast was clear. Her flushed face and Remy’s satisfied grin left no doubt what they’d just been doing.
“Oh, my God,” Zandra whispered, her cheeks burning with humiliation at the thought of some photographer skulking in the shadows, waiting to snap the perfect scandal shot of her and Remy.
“If hooking up for tawdry trysts in public bathrooms is Miss Kennedy’s idea of a good time,” the snarky anchor intimated, “one can only imagine how her escorts entertain clients.”
Another wave of hot shame swept over Zandra. Forking shaky fingers through her hair, she could only watch in a daze of unreality as her world was turned upside down.
When her cell phone rang, she grabbed the remote control and punched off the television. Her nerves instinctively tightened when she saw that the caller was Christine. Everything had been fine when she’d checked in with her receptionist yesterday, but she had a feeling that was about to drastically change.
“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news so soon after you’ve gotten home,” Christine began anxiously, “but I just thought you should know that within the past hour, three clients have called and canceled dates with escorts.”
“Shit.” Lunging from the sofa, Zandra began pacing up and down the floor. “Did they say why?”
“No. They just said something else came up.” Christine sounded distraught. “What’s going on, Zandra? Are we being investigated?”
Johanna Kennedy’s warning echoed tauntingly through Zandra’s mind. One day you’re the toast of the town. The next day you’re a pariah.
Shaking off the thought, Zandra gritted her teeth. “I think one of my father’s campaign rivals went to the media about me and the agency. I just turned on the news, and they’re doing a hit piece.”
“Oh, no,” Christine groaned in dismay. “Just what we need.”
“Tell me about it.” Zandra’s mind was racing. First and foremost, she needed to protect her escorts. “Listen, Chris. Reporters are probably en route to the office as we speak. I want you to send out a text and email to everyone to tell them to stay away from the office. And then I want you to transfer the phone lines to your private extension, lock up the building and go home.”
“In the middle of the week?”
“Yes,” Zandra said grimly. “Once the press hounds arrive, you probably won’t be able to get much work done anyway.”
Suddenly her apartment intercom buzzed, signaling that she had a visitor downstairs.
“I have to go, Chris. Call me when you get home.”
She ended the call, then walked to the front door and nervously pressed the intercom button. “Yes?”
There was a heavy pause. “It’s your father.”
Her blood ran cold. He was the last person on earth she wanted to see right now.
“What do you want?”
“We need to talk,” he said curtly.
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“But you might be interested in hearing what I have to say.”
Zandra frowned, staring at the intercom panel.
After several moments, he said levelly, “It’s important, Zandra.”
She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, then reluctantly pushed the button. “Come up.”
* * *
Remy had just strolled through the door of his downtown apartment when his cell phone rang. Setting down his suitcase—he’d only needed one, unlike Zandra—he dug the phone out of his pocket and saw Duke’s number.
He hit the answer button. “Talk to me.”
“You owe me big-time,” Duke growled.
“Why? What happened on your date?”
“It’s what didn’t happen that’s got me fucked up.”
Remy couldn’t help chuckling wryly as he walked to the windows overlooking Lake Michigan. “You’re talking in riddles, Gannon. Give me the shit straight.”
Duke heaved a short, ragged breath. “The date was last night. The escort was some hot little brunette named Brigitte.”
“Brigitte?” Remy frowned, not recognizing the name. Zandra must have forgotten to tell him that she’d finally hired Lena’s replacement, after months of interviewing candidates and finding fault with every last one.
“Yeah, Brigitte,” Duke muttered. “French spelling.”
“Gotcha. So what happened?”
“I’ll tell you what happened. I came on to her to see if she’d take the bait. Oh, she took it all right. Had me damn near begging for mercy by the time she got done with me.”
Remy pushed out a heavy breath, disappointment washing over him. “Fuck.”
“Yeah. That’s exactly what I wanted to do. Like you wouldn’t believe.”
“But you didn’t, right?”
“No,” Duke said with grim humor. “I was a good little boy and kept my dick in my pants. And it’s been punishing me ever since.”
Remy’s lips twitched with amusement, even as his stomach knotted at the implications of Duke’s report. It only took one wayward escort to bring down Zandra and her agency. He had to warn her. And he had to come clean about what he’d been doing. He owed her the truth, and the guilt was eating him alive.
“Anyway,” Duke grumbled, “I don’t think I’m the right man for this job.”
“Maybe not,” Remy said wryly. “Or maybe it’s just this one broad who pushed your buttons.”
Duke snorted. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? If so, it sure as hell didn’t.”
Remy chuckled, perpetually amused by Duke’s irascible temperament. “You can stand down, soldier. I’m putting this job on hold until further notice.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. Now if it’s all the same to you, Chief, I’m off to take another cold shower.”
Remy chuckled. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
Duke muttered a dark expletive before hanging up.
Remy grinned, shoving his phone back into his pocket.
But as he stood there contemplating the shimmering blue vastness of Lake Michigan, his amusement quickly faded. He knew what he had to do, but he dreaded the hell out of it. He didn’t want to hurt Zandra, especially after the amazing week they’d just spent together. She’d told him that she loved him, sending his heart into the damn stratosphere. Now that they’d reached this incredible new level in their relationship, he could never go back to being just friends with her.
Once she learned that he’d been secretly investigating her agency, he hoped and prayed that she’d understand his reasons and forgive him.
Because the alternative—living without her—was absolutely unthinkable.
* * *
Zandra didn’t offer her father a drink or invite him
to sit down. She barely wanted to let him through the door. Of course, once he was inside, he helped himself to a chair.
She watched as he looked around the living room, his gaze landing on her mother’s paintings. Lightly at first, then returning to linger on each one. As he stared, something like pain and regret flickered in his eyes.
He’d hated being married to an artist. He’d hated having to share Autumn with her gift, resented the hours she’d spent painting instead of catering to him. He’d hated that no matter how viciously he ridiculed and brutalized her, she’d always found solace and healing through her painting. Even when he flew into a rage and maliciously destroyed her work, he couldn’t destroy the beautiful imagination that would fuel the next piece. Autumn’s gift was the only part of her he couldn’t conquer, and he’d always known it.
After her funeral, he’d gathered all her paintings and dumped them on the front porch, then called Zandra and told her to come pick them up. It was one of the few kindnesses he’d ever shown her.
She watched now as he swallowed visibly, then dragged his gaze from the familiar artwork to look at her. His eyes were unfocused and haunted, and for a moment she couldn’t tell whether he was seeing her, or her mother.
She waited for him to remember. Waited for the hatred and anger to slide back into place.
It didn’t take long.
“Well,” he said bitterly, “I hope you’re happy.”
Zandra didn’t sit down. She didn’t want to pretend that he was an invited guest, that this was a normal visit between a father and daughter.
She folded her arms across her chest, a defensive posture. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Haven’t you been watching the news? The very thing I tried to warn you about is happening!”
Zandra’s lips twisted scornfully. “Am I supposed to care that your political campaign is in trouble? Cry me a damn river.”
His face reddened with anger. “You conniving little bitch. This is exactly what you wanted to happen.”
Zandra snorted. “Oh, yeah,” she mocked. “I really wanted to have my name and photo splashed across the news so that complete strangers can be titillated by the details of my personal life.”
“And whose fault is that?” Landis spat, raking her with a look of scathing contempt. “Running a prostitution ring. Screwing men in public restrooms. You’re a whore. Just like your mother.”
Zandra’s temper exploded. “You bastard! Stop calling her a whore! Despite the abominable way you treated her, she was never unfaithful to you! It’s not her fault you were too paranoid and insecure to handle being married to a beautiful woman. It’s not her fault that she couldn’t even make eye contact with another man without sending you into a jealous rage!”
Landis lunged to his feet and charged toward Zandra. Though her knees trembled, she stood her ground, chin raised defiantly.
He stopped just before her, jabbing his finger into her face. “You’d better mind your tongue, little girl.”
“Or what?” Zandra challenged. “You gonna beat me like you did that night just because I screamed at you to stop hitting my mother? You gonna take off your belt now and whip me senseless just because I told you to stop smearing her memory with that ugly word?”
He glared at her, nostrils flaring.
Zandra didn’t back down.
And then suddenly he smiled. A slow, malevolent smile that made ice congeal in her veins. “You’re really feeling yourself today, aren’t you? I wonder how you’re going to feel when I tell you that Mayor Norwood is the one who leaked the story about you to the media.”
Zandra frowned. “Why the hell should that matter to me?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because your old friend Remington has been digging up dirt on you on behalf of the mayor.”
Zandra’s stomach lurched up into her throat. As the room spun around her, she stared at her father. “What the hell are you talking about?” she whispered faintly.
“Remington has been investigating your escort agency so the mayor can use it against me.”
Zandra’s hand flew to her mouth, but the cry of wounded disbelief had already escaped.
Landis smiled with vicious satisfaction. “That’s right, dear daughter. Your precious childhood hero has been betraying you behind your back.”
“I don’t believe you,” Zandra snarled.
Landis sneered. “Ask him. Ask him why he’s been secretly meeting with Norwood’s top campaign advisor.”
It wasn’t possible, Zandra told herself. Remy would never betray her like this. He couldn’t.
But she suddenly remembered the secret phone call he’d taken that night at her apartment. And she’d never been able to explain his sudden interest in dating her escorts.
Still, she resisted the damning evidence before her. Resisted the inner voice that reminded her she couldn’t trust her heart with any man.
She resisted all those things and lashed out at her father, “You’re a damn liar.”
His expression hardened. “You always think I’m lying to you.”
“Because you always have.”
He glared accusingly at her. “I know you still blame me for your mother’s death. You suspected me of the worst from the moment I called to tell you the news. I still remember the way you carried on when you came home from England. Asking me all those questions about where I found her body, interrogating me like I was a fucking murder suspect. Hell, if that spiteful woman had left a goddamn suicide note, you would have sworn I’d forged it!”
“She did.”
It took a delayed moment for her quiet words to register. When they did, Landis went completely still, his eyes narrowing on her face. “What did you say?”
Zandra calmly met his gaze. “My mother did leave a note. I received it after her funeral.”
It gave her some satisfaction to watch the blood leach out of her father’s face.
He shook his head in stunned denial. “You’re lying.”
“I assure you I’m not.”
“She wouldn’t have done that. She wouldn’t have left me without saying goodbye.”
Zandra sneered, driven to hurt him as much as he’d hurt her. “If she’d wanted to say goodbye, she would have left the note for you instead of me. But why would she have done that when you’re the one she was trying to esc—”
Landis’s hand shot out, delivering a vicious backhand.
Pain exploded across Zandra’s cheek and down her jaw.
Refusing to cry out or show any weakness, she straightened slowly and looked him square in the eye. “Get out.”
Shaken, he stared at her. “Look what you made me do.”
Zandra laughed caustically. “After all these years, you’re still blaming others for your cruelty. What a pathetic excuse for a man you are.” She pointed to the door. “Get the hell out of my sight before I call security.”
He wavered another moment, then turned and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
It was only then that Zandra lowered herself into the nearest chair and slowly brought her hand to her stinging cheek. It hurt, but the pain radiating through her heart had nothing to do with any blow she could ever receive from her father.
Half an hour later, she was on her way out the door when Remy showed up.
She was wearing wide-lens sunglasses, so he couldn’t see the swelling flesh around her upper cheek.
“Hey.” He smiled, backing her into the apartment. “Looks like I caught you just in time.”
She frowned. “I’m really gonna have to talk to the concierge about letting you up without my permission.”
Remy’s smile faltered. “What’s wrong?”
“You obviously haven’t been watching the news,” Zandra snapped.
“I haven’t. After I got home, I took a shower and had some phone calls to return.” He searched her taut face. “Why? What’s going on?”
She took a deep breath that burned, then blurted
out, “Have you been investigating my escort agency?”
He was taken aback. “Who told you that?”
“Don’t worry about it. Just answer the damn question.”
His guilty expression spoke volumes before he answered quietly, “Yes.”
The floor tilted beneath Zandra’s feet. She’d wanted him to deny it. Had fervently prayed that he would deny it.
Reeling with shock and confusion, she stared at him. “How...how could you?”
Remy looked as if he were in acute pain. “It’s not what you think.”
“Then what is it, Remington?” she demanded furiously. “Help me understand how you could go behind my back to investigate my agency.”
He swallowed hard. “Can we just sit down and—”
“You son of a bitch!” she exploded, ripping off her sunglasses. “How could you do this to me? I trusted you!”
Remy froze, staring at her in shocked horror.
Too late, she remembered her injured cheek.
“What happened to you?” Remy whispered.
Zandra didn’t respond.
As he reached out to touch her face, she jerked her head back and demanded, “Don’t.”
The savage fury that hardened his eyes chilled her to the bone. “Goddamn it, Zandra,” he growled. “Who hit you?”
She scowled. “Don’t change the sub—”
“Who. Hit. You?”
She hesitated, alarmed by the lethal menace in his voice. “It was my father.”
Remy’s face contorted with rage.
Zandra gulped hard. “Look—”
Without another word, Remy pivoted sharply on his heel and stalked off.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Where’s Kennedy?” Remy snarled, barging his way past the startled butler who opened the door to him.
“Is Mr. Kennedy expecting you?”
Ignoring the snooty old man, Remy strode through the cavernous foyer of the sprawling mansion, his boots crashing against the polished hardwood floor. As his thunderous gaze swung toward the sweeping staircase, the butler started forward indignantly.
“Sir, Mr. Kennedy is not avail—”
Hearing the sound of voices raised in argument, Remy took off down the arched hall, following the commotion to the open doorway of a huge, wood-paneled library.
Any Way You Want It Page 23
