Yours in Scandal

by Layne, Lauren

  However, Adeline wasn’t just in charge of doing what was best for Jet Set; she was also tasked with keeping her Addie side in check. Addie, who wanted to say yes for all the wrong reasons, starting with the most annoying one: the damn man gave her butterflies.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you had an office?”

  “What?” she asked, distracted. “Of course I have an office.”

  “Do your clients meet you here?”

  “For consultations and planning sessions, yes. For on-site meetings when I need to see the space for an event, obviously we meet at the venue.”

  “You came to my office yesterday.”

  “So very observant of you, Mayor Davenport.” The sarcasm slipped out, and she realized she didn’t care. Conversation with this man felt like a puzzle; she needed to distribute her mental energies appropriately.

  “Why didn’t you make me come here?”

  She gave him a look. “Does anyone make you do anything? You’re the mayor, which was made quite clear to me when Mr. Tillman summoned me to your court.”

  “It’s a great space,” he said, not denying or apologizing for Martin Tillman’s expectation that she go to the mayor. “Your office, I mean.”

  “Thank you,” she said, feeling a genuine rush of pleasure at the compliment. “I know conventional business wisdom says you should start small with a brand-new company, but I knew from the beginning that if I wanted to create a luxury brand, I had to look like a luxury brand.”

  He nodded in understanding. “That’s what business loans are for. Allows people with a good head on their shoulders to build something they wouldn’t normally be able to afford in the early stages.”

  “Actually, I financed myself. Well, sort of. My mom left me some money when she passed, and I thought the best way to honor her was by throwing it into something that she loved.”

  His face took on a strange expression, which she assumed was the usual knee-jerk reaction to learning someone’s parent had passed away. “Your mother was an event planner?”

  Adeline immediately regretted her overshare. She rarely talked about her mom with anyone, and she certainly shouldn’t be discussing Jeanette Fleming with him.

  She fought the instinct to change the subject abruptly, since it would only draw more attention to the topic. She kept her tone as light as possible, hoping to convey mild indifference to the backstory of her career. “Not exactly. Well, not at all, actually. She was a waitress at one of the only restaurants in a small town. It was the default location for celebrations, from birthdays to wakes to end-of-the-year soccer parties. She always took it upon herself to make sure they were special. Stuff that went way above her job description. Balloons, flowers, even taught herself how to make fancy cakes. I guess that always just . . . appealed to me.”

  He continued to study her with an intent expression. “She taught you the tricks of the trade, huh?”

  Sure. Once I realized she hadn’t died in childbirth, like my bastard of a father claimed.

  Adeline shrugged. “I didn’t realize at the time I was being taught. I started out just helping at the hostess desk or busing tables on busy nights at the restaurant. But then she got sick a couple years ago, and I was helping more and more. Then she passed away, and long story short, I couldn’t bear to be in the town where I seemed to see her everywhere. So, I moved to New York last year, and I took up her trade, but in my own way.” She kept her eyes on the desk in front of her, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. It had been a year and a half now, and the stabs of grief, while less frequent, still caught her by surprise.

  Robert didn’t say anything for a long moment, and she appreciated his giving her time to get her emotions back in check. People were always quick to want to comfort, and while she knew it was well-meaning, it sometimes only made things worse.

  Finally, she lifted her eyes to his, and he nodded. A simple gesture that said plenty. I’m sorry for your loss. You’re going to be okay.

  It was exactly what she needed, especially from someone who understood loss firsthand. Robert Davenport Sr.’s sudden death while doing an interview on live television had shocked not just New York, but the entire country. She’d been just a girl when it had happened. Too young for her father to take her to the funeral, she, along with everyone else, had seen the pictures of stoic fourteen-year-old Robert Davenport Jr. laying a baseball mitt on his father’s coffin. The photo had gone alongside tiny John F. Kennedy Jr.’s salute to his father’s coffin as a heartbreaking moment in American history.

  “So.” She cleared her throat. “You knew Mrs. Manchester’s late husband?”

  “I did. He was a good man.”

  With horrible taste in women. It was an uncharitable thought, but she couldn’t help it. Melora was grating and selfish and had very little respect for anyone else’s time.

  Come to think of it, she’d be a perfect match for Mr. Drop By with No Appointment.

  “She’s a client of yours?” he asked.

  “I normally wouldn’t confirm or deny, but since Mrs. Manchester already mentioned as much herself, she’s hoping we’ll take her on as a client, yes.”

  “I see. And how many Excedrin worth is she?” he asked.

  She laughed, irrationally pleased at his recall of their conversation from the day before, wondering if he’d replayed it in his mind as many times as she had.

  He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I bet lots. Way more than me.”

  “Oh, trust me, that’s very debatable.”

  He leaned back again and placed one palm over the fist of his other hand, then let his hands drop to his lap and gave her a level look. “Just tell me what I did to get on your no list.”

  Too good-looking. Too confident. Too damn appealing. Oh yeah, and you belong in my father’s world, which I want no part of.

  “A black tie in three weeks? It’s a big ask,” she said. “And I already have people on my wait list.”

  He looked her directly in the eyes. “Bullshit.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “No, I won’t. I won’t excuse you for chickening out on this. I believe you have your reasons, and that’s fine, but don’t sit there and tell me it’s because you can’t pull it off. That insults me and you.”

  That he was right was annoying. That he could read her so easily was alarming. That she wanted to say yes, not for the job opportunity, but because she felt strangely breathless when she was with him just plain ticked her off.

  Caution, Addie.

  “Why are you pushing this so hard?” she said, narrowing her eyes. “There are plenty of event planners in the city.”

  He gave her a steady look. “Because you made it abundantly clear yesterday you wouldn’t kiss my ass. Call me crazy, but . . . I like that about you. I trust you to call me on my crap.”

  He stood to leave, and Adeline’s stomach clenched in regret, but she forced herself to stand her ground and stay silent. To take the safe road.

  “Call me if you change your mind,” he said crisply.

  “Robert,” she blurted out.

  Damn it. Just ten more seconds, and he’d have been out the door.

  “I’ll do it.”

  He paused, then glanced over his shoulder, and it wasn’t lost on her that he was mimicking her departure from his office yesterday.

  Deliberate? Probably.

  He grinned.

  No. Definitely deliberate.

  “I made reservations for lunch at two p.m. on Friday on the Upper East Side. We can discuss then. Darlene will email the details.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “What do you mean reservations? You didn’t know I was going to say yes.”

  His grin went a little bit crooked and sexy as he looked at her. “See you on Friday.”

  Chapter Six

  Friday, October 2

  Adeline plucked two dresses out of her closet and turned toward her best friend. “Black or pink?”

  “Black,” Jane
Kim said immediately. “It’s your funeral.”

  Adeline rolled her eyes, but she did put the pink dress back in the closet. It was one of her favorites, but even with the conservative cut, it felt a little too feminine for the occasion.

  The occasion being lunch with the mayor.

  “If I draw you pictures of all the reasons this is a bad idea, then will you believe me?” her friend begged. “You always were a visual learner.”

  “Won’t help,” Adeline said, pulling her favorite pair of black pumps off the shoe rack. “You’re a terrible artist.”

  “Not true. I won that drawing contest in third grade.”

  “Because everyone thought it was a thoughtful interpretation of a tornado. Had you told them you were actually attempting to draw a tulip, I think they’d have been less impressed.”

  “Talent is talent.”

  “And you have plenty of it,” Adeline agreed loyally. “Just not in the fine arts category.”

  Adeline’s best friend since the first grade, Jane had her master’s in biomedical engineering and was the technology development officer at a stem cell research company headquartered in Tribeca. Brilliant, she was. Artistic, she was not.

  But Jane was as loyal as they came. She, along with their friend Rosalie, was one of the precious few facets of Addie Brennan’s life that had carried over to Adeline Blake’s life.

  Despite having grown up together upstate, Rosalie and Jane both found themselves living in the city, which had been a major reason why Adeline had decided to start her business in Manhattan, despite its relative proximity to her father.

  Still, her friends knowing so much about her past came with some downsides. Jane, who’d been her friend the longest, was particularly protective of Adeline when it came to anything remotely associated with the governor. She had been there when Addie was growing up and had seen firsthand that the man the world saw was not the real version.

  “I thought you swore you’d never get close to that world again,” Jane called, as Adeline went into the bathroom to change. “You call politics the devil’s work. Direct quote.”

  “I’m not getting into politics. I’m planning a party for someone who happens to be a politician. One and done.”

  “Uh-huh. You’re telling me if Mr. Panty Melter turned those supernatural green eyes on you and asked you to plan another event, and then another, until he literally ate your soul for breakfast, you’d be able to resist?”

  “There are so many yikes in that sentence, I don’t know which to respond to.”

  Jane didn’t back down. “What if your dad finds out that you’re in New York? I mean, their paths must cross, right? Governor and mayor?”

  Adeline froze for a second in the process of slipping her dress over her head, feeling slightly nauseous the way she did whenever she thought of her father. Then she took a deep breath and pulled the dress down. “He won’t,” she said, stepping into the bedroom and turning her back to her friend. “Zip me up?”

  “So he still doesn’t know you’re here? Or about the name change?” Jane asked, pulling the zipper up.

  “I have no idea,” Adeline said. “I haven’t had any contact with the man in five years. But I’m assuming not. If he did know, he’d probably have his thugs put a bag over my head in the middle of the night and leave me in a field somewhere.”

  “Bastard,” Jane said with feeling. “I still can’t believe he let you think for twenty-some years that your mother was dead—”

  “Can we not?” Adeline interrupted gently.

  “Right, right,” Jane said quickly. “He’s not worth the breath. But considering we don’t even speak of your father, are you sure doing business with his biggest rival is smart? Wait. You’re not doing this because the mayor’s your father’s biggest rival, are you?” Jane asked, brown eyes narrowing as she planted her fists on her hips.

  “Of course not,” Adeline said. “The mayor has no idea who I am, and he hasn’t even confirmed he’s entering the governor’s race yet. I accepted the job because he’s Robert Davenport. I’d be crazy to say no to Citizen’s Man of the Year. His guest list alone will be worth the headache for the networking potential.”

  “Okay, fine. I can see why you can’t resist taking him on as a client. But why does he want you as his party planner?”

  Adeline gave her sometimes-too-blunt friend a look. “You want to rephrase?”

  “You know what I mean,” Jane said. “You’re good, but you’re also new. And to your point, he’s the Robert Davenport. Why wouldn’t he go with one of the big agencies for his fancy party? How can you be sure of his motives?”

  “And I thought I was cynical,” Adeline muttered. “Look, I asked him why he chose me, and apparently he likes the fact that I don’t get all swoony in his company. Or something.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “I can’t afford not to believe him,” Adeline said gently. “I get your concern. It’s a big coincidence, and it’s a risk. But my father’s already taken enough away from me. I’m not going to let him take the biggest potential client away as well. If I get burned, I get burned. But at least I won’t be off hiding in a tiny little corner of the country.”

  Not anymore, anyway.

  Jane sighed as she followed Adeline into the kitchen. “Fine. I’ll get on board. But only if you promise to share details. It’s totally unfair that the guy is hot, successful in his own right, and born rich. Did you know he inherited like a billion dollars when his dad died? Not that that wasn’t the saddest thing in the world. I’m just saying the guy’s like Thor or something. Except instead of a magic hammer, he’s got . . . well, I don’t know. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a magic hammer, too, to go with all that money and pedigree. Now that I think about it, he’s a little like Tony Stark.”

  Adeline gave her an amused look. “You’re certainly up to date on the mayor’s backstory.”

  “I read up on him in Citizen while I was at the dentist this morning.”

  “The same appointment that you’re supposedly still at?”

  Jane gave her a big grin. “I had to come try one last time to talk some sense into you in person. If my boss asks, I had a root canal.”

  “You’ve never had so much as a cavity. Or been grounded. Or gotten a pimple. Which, now that I think about it, why and how are we friends?”

  “Opposites attract. Me: tiny, Asian rule follower. You: curvy, disorderly train wreck. How could we possibly resist each other?”

  “A match made in heaven, for sure. But I’m reformed now, and we’re no longer opposite. You going to dump me?”

  “Never,” her friend said. “Besides, we both know Addie isn’t dead. She’s just waiting for her phoenix moment.”

  Adeline’s back was to Jane as she pulled her trench coat out of the closet, and she was glad her friend couldn’t see her slight flinch. She didn’t know which she was more afraid of—that her friend was wrong about her old ways waiting to make a resurgence, or that she was exactly right.

  Because if that phoenix did rise, there’d be hell to pay.

  Adeline had never been to the restaurant the mayor had picked for lunch, but she recognized the name. She’d half expected him to pick somewhere off the grid, or suggest their second meeting take place in his office, but apparently he had no qualms about meeting with her in public, because the restaurant was bustling, even at the late lunch hour.

  Professional pride that she’d be seen having lunch with the most powerful man in the city warred with personal preservation—the need to protect. Hide.

  Adeline lifted her chin. She’d already given up her name. She wouldn’t add her career or her pride to the list of sacrifices.

  She gave the hostess Darlene’s name and was led to a table in the back of the room. Old habits had Addie immediately scanning for the mayor’s protection, spotting the plainclothes officers who served as bodyguards immediately. Not the same faces she’d seen in his office on Tuesday. She wondered if that was intenti
onal, to keep would-be attackers on their toes, or simply a function of the NYPD’s internal structure.

  The mayor rose when he saw her approach, a benign, if seemingly genuine smile on his face as he pulled out her chair.

  “Pretty manners, Mr. Mayor.”

  He sat back in his own chair. “My mother will be pleased you think so. I believe she taught me that particular move when I was four.”

  “How is Mrs. Davenport?” Adeline couldn’t stop herself from asking. The older woman had been an active part of her husband’s career and had continued their charity work even after his death, but Adeline was pretty well plugged into that circuit these days, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Katherine Davenport’s name.

  “She’s great, thanks. Happy, healthy, shacking up with a not-so-secret boy toy in Florida.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “My kind of lady,” Adeline said as she placed her napkin in her lap, then instantly regretted it. A woman with a boy toy was Addie’s kind of lady. Not Adeline’s.

  “Oh yeah?” he asked with a smile. “You’ve got a fleet of young bucks in the stable?”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re mixing your metaphors,” she said.

  “I’m pretty sure you’re dodging the question.”

  She gave a coy smile over the top of her menu.

  “Fine, Ms. Blake. Keep your secrets. For now.”

  For always, Mr. Mayor.

  “Do you come here often?” she asked, recognizing the signs of a staff trained in providing as much privacy as possible for high-profile clientele.

  “I like their gelato,” he said, before gesturing for her to order a drink.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Is that a line?”

  He laughed. “A line? Exactly how cynical are you?”

  “I figure you have a whole arsenal of casual statements like that in your back pocket to put people at ease so they think you’re just a regular person.”

  The way he was looking at her made her want to shift in her chair, wondering if she’d given away too much.

  “I am a regular person.”

  She snorted.

  “All right, fine. I’m exceptional,” he amended.