“Yes.”
They stared at each other, neither inclined to provide the details of said plans. Finally, Charlotte nodded. “When Cecilia was four years old, she put on a musical talent show for me and her father.”
The subject change was abrupt and Shane frowned. That sense of foreboding knotted in his gut, but he said nothing.
The older woman took a deep breath then slowly exhaled. “She banged away on our grand piano and her father laughed and made an offhanded comment that we didn’t have to worry about her being a great concert pianist.”
If Shane needed any further incentive to dislike Nathaniel Riley, his wife had just handed it to him. “He sounds like a real stand-up dad.”
Charlotte’s expression darkened. “I know how it looks, and you can judge another time, but that’s not the point.”
Shane was instantly contrite. “I apologize. My mom raised me better than that, I’m just . . .” He trailed off, not knowing what to say.
“Concerned,” she said.
He nodded. An understatement, but it would do.
Charlotte continued, “The next day she came to me and said she wanted piano lessons. She pestered me for a week until I relented. She took lessons until she was eighteen, practicing sometimes hours a day until she was given all the best solos.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Shane said. “She’s very tenacious.”
Charlotte twisted a strand of pearls around her slim neck. “But here’s what most people don’t know.”
He raised a brow.
“Cecilia hates piano. Hates it.”
The point now crystal clear, his stomach dropped.
Charlotte frowned, twisting the necklace tighter. “All those years, all that practice on something she didn’t even like, just so she could prove she could do it. So she could hear him say he was proud of her. That’s the only reason.”
His throat felt like dirt. “And you think this is one of those times?”
She nodded. “I do.”
The doubt crept in, and he hated Charlotte for it. He shrugged, as though unconcerned. “I’ll consider myself warned.”
Then he turned and walked away.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cecilia walked into her father’s reception area, her head held high, her heart breaking. She smoothed down her hair, stretched too tight in a severe ponytail that matched the severe cut of her black business suit. She’d had fifteen minutes to go home and change. By the time she’d left her place, summer Cecilia was nowhere in sight.
She’d had to leave her behind to deal with what was to come.
It was the only way.
She strode briskly across the carpeted floor and into his office without knocking. As she expected, they already waited for her, their heads bent low over the papers spread out on the conference table.
In her smooth, polished voice she said, “I’m here, reporting for duty.”
They looked up and, for a second, she paused dead in her tracks. She’d never noticed how similar they were. In their politician’s suits, neatly trimmed hair, and jaws gone slack from too many dinners out. In another fifteen years Miles Fletcher would be her father.
She walked over to the table, put down her briefcase, sat down, and folded her hands on the table, taking control of the situation. She might be their victim, but she refused to act as such. She nodded. “Well, lay your cards on the table, gentlemen.”
Her father smiled, the lines around his mouth softening. “There’s my girl.”
Her chin tilted. “I’m not anyone’s girl.” Except Shane’s.
Miles leaned forward, mimicking her posture, his expression smooth. “Cecilia, we’re sorry it had to come to this, but I can assure you, we’re on your side.”
Cecilia met his gaze, unwavering. “Do not patronize me. Now let’s get your sordid little blackmail scheme on the table so we can get down to terms.”
Miles sighed. “None of this would have happened if you’d chosen to be more discreet in your affair with Shane Donovan.”
“And,” her father said, his tone now ice, “if you would have returned our calls.”
She shrugged. “I was busy.”
Miles covered her hand with his. “I understand this isn’t a love match, and I expect there will be occasions where one of us will need to scratch a particular itch. Over time, we’ll learn to appreciate each other, but I’m not unreasonable. You can have your liaisons but, for obvious reasons, we can’t have you flaunting them in front of everyone.” He lowered his voice as though the room was full of hidden microphones. “You brought him home with you.”
How did they know that? She shook her head. It didn’t matter.
She glanced at her father. He looked tired. Hope and some misguided sense of loyalty had her wanting to give him a chance at redemption. “Are you really okay with this? Listening to your daughter and her fiancé casually discuss extramarital affairs?”
Nathaniel steepled his fingers, narrowing his eyes. “You agreed to this arrangement.”
The hope died a slow, painful death.
“You’re right, I did.” There was no point in not taking responsibility. This mess was entirely her own doing. “My relationship with Shane Donovan isn’t really the point, is it?”
“No,” her father said flatly. “And if you insist, you can keep him as long as you practice the utmost discretion.”
She laughed, the sound full of scorn and bitterness. “He’s not a puppy. So, give me the terms. What do I have to agree to so you don’t hurt Shane?”
“Simple,” Miles said, his voice almost cheerful. “Our agreement hasn’t changed. We’ll continue to support your campaign efforts as long as you continue to be a good, dutiful wife.”
A sudden weariness overtook her, seeping into her bones. How many times had she sat in meetings like this? Normally they weren’t about her, but the tone never changed. The endless negotiations, the backroom deals, the exchange of information for profit or silence.
It. Never. Fucking. Ended.
And she’d had enough. She was just plain tired of it. She didn’t want this life anymore. Maybe she never had. She’d been content to be in the background, moving chess pieces around until the strategy fell into place.
She didn’t want to be her father or Miles.
Very carefully, she said, “And if I no longer want to run?”
Her father’s gaze narrowed, then he shifted his attention to Miles, who nodded. “That would be fine.”
And the lightbulb finally flipped on. “That was just a bargaining chip to get me to agree to the plan, wasn’t it?”
Miles folded his hands, regal and polished. “Of course we supported your endeavor, but it was a lofty goal.”
They’d never believed in her for a second. Two weeks ago this would have cut like a knife, and while the hurt still stung, it didn’t devastate her. How could it, when she hadn’t really believed in her either?
But Shane believed. And she couldn’t fail him.
“And the real goal?”
“As you know, between my family’s money and business endeavors, I have the capacity to generate the funding necessary to ensure a successful campaign. I’ve spent years positioning myself in the party and with the lobbyists, but your father’s connections will cement my position. With our marriage, and your father’s support, I will run for governor in the next election.” Miles smiled, as though she should be pleased to learn of his plans.
Her father’s expression lit with an excitement she hadn’t seen in a long time. “He can do it, Cecilia. And it doesn’t end there. We’re planning on the Oval Office.”
The ultimate dream he’d never been able to realize.
Miles puffed up, his chest actually expanding as he leaned back in his chair.
Cecilia looked back and forth between them. “So, at the end of the day, all this is about power. That’s it?”
“It’s the White House,” Nathaniel said.
Cecilia snorted, and bot
h men frowned. “Based on the history of Illinois governors, you have a better shot ending up in jail than you do the White House.”
Miles flushed. “I don’t need money.”
No, he just needed power. A headache started at the base of her skull. “I don’t understand why you need me.”
Nathaniel leaned forward. “You know everything about politics. You understand the life, the demands, the deals. You’re going to make an excellent first lady. This is what you’ve been raised for. What you were made for.”
She shook her head. “To be somebody’s wife?”
“My wife.” Miles smiled as though waiting for a thank-you. “And you have certain talents that aren’t easy to come by.”
And there was the truth. The real truth. She sat back in her chair. “I’m good at finding out secrets.”
“Not only that,” her father said. “At spinning them to our advantage. Your skills can be used to our benefit.”
It sickened her. Made her lose hope in humanity for a fraction of a second until she remembered that this wasn’t how most people lived. Most people were good. Shane was good. “And as long as I stick to the plan, you’ll leave Shane alone?”
“Yes,” Miles said. “He’s not a threat to us. We have no interest in him outside of your involvement.”
“Fine, but I want assurances. Guarantees.”
The two men glanced at each other then back at her.
“What?”
“I want you to call the mayor tomorrow and get that contract pushed through. I want it signed. Yesterday.” The demand was a long shot, but she gave it her all.
Nathaniel’s expression turned regretful. “That pushes the leverage in your favor, dear. And I’m afraid I can’t have that.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“No, not in this case.”
This man she’d hero-worshipped her whole life thought of her as nothing more than another obstacle he had to maneuver.
Although in this case, it was for good reason. She’d absolutely have used the shift in power to her favor.
“All right then,” she said, standing. “We’ll play out our hands. I’m leaving. I’ll be in touch.”
The two men rose to their feet, and her father smiled his cold politician’s smile at her. “One day, when you’re first lady, you’ll know this was for the best.”
She turned and when she got to the door, she looked over her shoulder. That need for approval snuck in, despite her best efforts, and she said softly, “You know, all I ever wanted was for you to believe in me.”
The senator nodded. “I do. That’s why we need you on our team.”
It was the saddest thing he’d ever said to her.
Defeated, she left, the tears clogging her throat.
Some tiny part of her had hoped inspiration would hit and she’d think of a way out of this. But nothing had come to her.
She had to break things off with Shane.
She couldn’t allow him to be hurt. Not because of her.
Those silent promises she’d made didn’t mean anything. Not now.
Thank God she’d kept her plans a secret; as far as Shane knew, she was still going through with the wedding. She didn’t know how she’d manage to convince him that ending their relationship was for the best, but she had no other choice at the moment. Not with that contract at stake. He’d never allow Miles and her father to intimidate him, and he would lose everything. She couldn’t let that happen. This time, he needed someone to take care of him.
There was no other way.
Shane’s mood was as dark as the night sky. He’d drunk beer after beer, sitting in the swing on the front porch waiting for Cecilia.
All day, he’d called. Texted. She hadn’t responded.
The woman in his bed last night, desperate and pleading for his touch, would not have done this. It had only been a short time, but she kept in contact with him in a thousand ways.
Unless she had a damn good reason, she didn’t just cut off communication.
And his gut told him to be on guard. That things weren’t going to end well.
So here he sat, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
The front door opened and James stepped out on the porch, closing the door softly behind him. He barely made any sound, moving like a jungle cat in the darkness. That’s the way his brother was, all stealth.
Shane took another sip of beer. “I don’t want company.”
Almost every person in the house had visited him over the past couple hours and it was starting to drive him batty.
James slid onto the porch rail, balancing himself on the edge. “Yeah, I know.”
“So you can leave.”
James shook his head. “Nope, I’m not going to do that.”
The swing swayed under his heavy weight. “Suit yourself.”
James had a calm steadiness about him, and after a few minutes the knot of tension in Shane’s gut eased. He took another sip of beer and scoffed. “I really fucked up this time, Jimmy.”
“You don’t know anything’s wrong.” Tone calm and reasonable. Irritating as hell.
“I know,” he said, the words flat.
James craned his neck and searched the yard as though looking for something. “You’re probably right. But I think you should trust her.”
“I do.”
James shook his head. “No, you don’t. You want to, but you don’t. Because you know she can crush you. And you’ve grown dependent on being invincible.”
The tension reared back up like a bucking bronco. It was so much easier to argue the semantics instead of focusing on his overwhelming feelings for Cecilia. “Where the hell do you come up with this crap?”
“I read a lot,” James said, his voice wry. “You like being the superhero. Saving the day. That’s your deal.”
“That’s not my deal.”
“But Cecilia doesn’t need you to rescue her. Her situation, it appeals to you because it puts her in the role of damsel in distress, but she won’t quite fit your mold, will she?”
Defensiveness raced through his blood. “What are you saying, I like weak women?”
“No, but you like to have the upper hand, and Cecilia doesn’t give you that. She doesn’t need anything from you.”
“That’s not true,” he said. A chill passed through him. For the first time since his dad died, he needed someone. It wasn’t possible she didn’t need him back.
James shrugged. “What do I know?”
They fell silent.
James wasn’t the type to belabor a point. He’d said his piece and Shane could either take it or leave it.
And he was leaving it.
He didn’t want to rescue Cecilia.
He frowned. Or did he? Was that what he waited for? Why he hadn’t pushed? Was he entertaining a fantasy of swooping in and saving her from her evil father and his henchman?
No. It couldn’t be.
He swallowed hard. He’d never been good at lying to himself, and the truth hit him like a smack in the face. That’s exactly what he was doing. And he was pissed as hell because she’d gone off and left him powerless.
Hell, she hadn’t even invited him to the battle.
He shook his head. “You’re an asshole.”
James laughed. “So I’ve been told.”
Weary, Cecilia climbed the front steps of the farmhouse, a feat that seemed more difficult than climbing Mount Everest. When she hit the top step Shane spoke, startling her.
“Where the fuck have you been?” His voice low and filled with anger.
She was exhausted. Beaten and beleaguered. But she shrugged into her ice-queen persona because it was the only way she knew to protect herself. In a cool tone, she said, “I left you a note.”
She walked over to stand in front of him, wanting to sit on the swing and cuddle into his warm embrace, or at least sag against the wall, but she couldn’t let herself do that.
Never show weakness. Never break.
She s
moothed the wrinkles of the black business suit she still wore.
A bitter, scornful sound that vaguely resembled a laugh shook his shoulders. “All right, Cecilia, lay it on me.”
She blinked. She’d wanted to put this off until tomorrow, but somehow he already knew. How?
As though disgusted, he shook his head. “Don’t you get it? I know you. Not the bullshit you tell other people. But you. You don’t even realize it, do you?”
The tears threatened and she bit her lip. “Realize what?”
“You and I have been in near constant contact since you got here. Hell, Cecilia, you tell me when you’re going to the bathroom. So when you disappear with a one-line note and turn off your cell phone, it’s a tell, Ce-ce. You should know that.”
She frowned. She did know. Only she hadn’t realized she’d kept in such close contact. It had been so natural, she hadn’t noticed. How silly of her. She blew out a breath and gathered the last little shreds of her tattered reserves.
She was doing this for him. To protect him. He’d hate her and never forgive her, but she was doing this because she loved him. Unable to face the expression on his face, she stared at the ground.
“Just get it over with.” His voice was as defeated as she felt.
The words stuck in her throat, but she forced them out. “We need to end this.” Nausea rolled through her.
“Why? So you can marry some guy you don’t even like, to run for a seat you don’t even want?”
“I want it. It’s all I ever wanted.” She parroted the words she’d been saying for months. Hollow, empty words. She might as well be saying she wanted to fly to Mars, that’s how little meaning they had. She soldiered on. “I have to see this through.”
He stood from the swing and walked over to her as the chains rattled, breaking through the silence of the night. When he came to a stop, he gripped her chin and forced her to look up at him.
Tears pricked at her eyes and she pushed them back down. She could not cry. Not yet. When she was alone, but not in front of him.
He looked deep into her eyes, searching her gaze for what felt like an eternity. His jaw hardened. “I don’t believe you.”
She swallowed. “You don’t have to.”
The Winner Takes It All Page 26
