by Esme Addison
Alex followed Tegan’s eyes and located Stephanie Bennett in the sea of formal wear, standing beside Edwin Kenley. She was laughing at something Edwin had said as she clutched his arm affectionately. She didn’t look too choked up to Alex.
“If anyone should be receiving your condolences,” Tegan said, “it’s Stephanie.”
Alex smiled politely. “I’ll be sure to offer them.”
Tegan set a hand on her son’s arm. “Dylan, why don’t you get us a cocktail?”
He turned to Alex with a grin. “Would you mind if I snuck away for a moment?”
Yes, she would mind. She was terrified at the thought of being left alone with Tegan, who looked like she might snap Alex’s neck without warning. “Of course not. I’ll have a glass of white wine, please.”
“And I know my mother will want a whiskey neat. I’ll be back in a few.” He winked at Alex before heading back down the stairs.
Once they were alone, Tegan pulled Alex aside. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I don’t like it.”
Alex blinked innocently. “I’m not up to anything. Dylan invited me here—”
“I’m aware of my son’s weaknesses,” she replied, leaning in closer until Alex was enveloped in a cloud of her expensive perfume, a heady scent of jasmine, topped by notes of herbal green tea and ending with something dark and rich like leather or tobacco. “He’s full of opinions, and he thinks it’s time for the Wesleys and Sobieskis to set aside our differences.”
Alex shrugged. “I lived my entire life without knowing anything about the conflict between our families. And you only married into the Wesley family,” Alex noted. “Don’t you agree that this feud has gone on long enough?”
The wine-colored ruby in the center of Tegan’s necklace caught the light. “I didn’t grow up with the last name Wesley, true. But my late husband and I were distant cousins, and now I’m head of Wesley, Inc.” She smiled coolly. “Any enemy of the Wesleys is an enemy of mine.”
“The Sobieskis have nothing to do with Wesley, Inc.,” Alex said, meeting Tegan’s eyes. “We have our own business and we don’t have any ill will.”
“You seem like a well-meaning girl. But it’s complicated between our families, and you really don’t know what you’re talking about. There are some unresolved matters that must be dealt with.”
The two women stood silently side by side, watching the crowd. “I understand you’re looking into the murder,” Tegan said quietly. “What have you found?”
“Not much,” Alex replied. She wasn’t about to disclose that the Wesleys were acting increasingly suspect. “A not-yet-divorced wife who will inherit half the company. A business partner who wanted to sell but couldn’t because Randy Bennett wouldn’t allow it.”
“I’m sure your list of suspects doesn’t end there.” Tegan lifted her upper lip in a sneer. “You can play amateur detective all you want. Just keep your nose out of my family’s business.”
* * *
A little later, Dylan led Alex onto the patio. She shivered as the cool spring air hit her bare arms. “Thanks. It was getting a little warm in there.”
The patio wasn’t nearly as crowded as the inside of the mansion, but the area was hardly private. Several propane fires were blazing in stone containers and giving off enough heat to keep the guests comfortable. Dylan walked Alex to a darkened corner beside the stone wall that closed off the patio area. Alex admired the way the moonlight illuminated the expansive estate.
He leaned his elbows against the top of the wall. “My mom can be a little intense. What did she say to you?”
When Dylan had returned with drinks, Alex had nearly thrown herself into his arms. Then she’d fanned herself and mentioned how stuffy the air was, desperate to get as far away as possible from Tegan.
“Was it that obvious?” Alex laughed uncomfortably.
“Kind of.” Dylan smiled.
He was such a friendly contrast to his brittle mother, but Alex caught herself before she said any more. For all she knew, the two were playing good cop, bad cop, and Dylan was manipulating her into giving something away. “She made it clear that she doesn’t like the Sobieskis, that’s all.”
“Sorry about that. It’s the old generation. They’re fixated on family history.”
“Your sister doesn’t like us, either,” Alex blurted out.
“True, but she takes her cues from our mother.” He looked down at the slate at their feet. “These things take time to smooth over.”
“I’m thinking about two hundred years. We’re halfway there.” Alex took a generous gulp of her wine.
She eyed her companion. He was suited to darkness. Somehow the way the moonlight hit his face made him even more attractive.
“I appreciate you playing the diplomat,” she said. “Unfortunately, I’m not convinced that your family members wouldn’t be eager to frame my aunt for murder.”
Dylan didn’t reply except to smile.
She was suddenly light-headed, but maybe it was the wine.
“It’s a beautiful night. Dance with me.” He lifted the almost empty glass out of her hand and set it on the top of the wall.
“I’m a terrible dancer,” she protested. “I can’t tell the difference between a tango and a waltz.” This was not true. She was a great dancer, but she didn’t want to dance with Dylan. She didn’t want to lean in close to him, his hand on the small of her back as he enveloped her in his scent …
Still, she allowed herself to be led to an open area. He wrapped a hand around her waist and held her other hand at his shoulder.
“All you have to do is follow my lead,” he whispered.
He was intoxicating, and as they danced together, she was weightless. He moved her around the patio to the sound of the quartet playing inside the house, only a sliver of moonlight separating them. “You dance beautifully, Aleksandra.” His lips touched her ear as he spoke, sending a shiver across her skin.
This was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Alex had been attracted to men and she’d had relationships, but she’d never felt this dizzying rush before. Dylan moved her in the moonlight, and she lost all sense of herself, aware of only his powerful frame. She sighed as the pleasure of the moment enveloped her. Dancing with Dylan was nothing short of magical.
Magic.
The thought jolted her from her trance. Dylan was a Magical. Was he trying to enchant her?
She stopped moving and stepped away from him. “That’s enough,” she said.
As she pulled away, her senses returned. She was here, on the Wesleys’ patio, and the Wesleys were murder suspects. She shouldn’t dance with him. She smoothed her hands over her dress as if brushing off the remnants of his spell. “I told you, I’m not a good dancer.”
Dylan’s brow creased. “You seemed like you were enjoying yourself.”
She reached for her wineglass with a shaky hand. What had just happened to her? Whatever it was, she couldn’t allow it to happen again. She downed the remains of her wine and showed him the empty glass. “I’m going to get some more.”
Always the gentleman, he extended his arm to her. “Allow me—”
“No.” The word came out more sharply than she’d intended. “Sorry. It’s fine. You’re one of the hosts. I’m sure you have something else to do other than get me drinks all night. Besides, I’d like to mingle.”
He bowed politely. “Whatever you wish.”
Alex was trying to make light of the situation, but judging from Dylan’s downcast expression, she was failing. He was hurt, or confused. Or—she reminded herself—disappointed that she’d foiled him. Because whatever had transpired between them had been powerful, and she didn’t trust it for a second.
She tried her best to smile disarmingly. “I’ll catch up with you later. I’m just going to have a walk around.”
She entered the house and headed straight for the bar, her head still reeling from the effects of whatever Dylan had just done to her. “Just a water, please. Extra
ice.” She needed her inhibitions if she was going to fend off any more spells.
“Cabernet.”
Alex did a double take at the sound of the smoky voice beside her. It was Stephanie Bennett. Her hair was a high-maintenance shade of blonde, and her tanned skin was suspiciously free of lines. In her early fifties, Stephanie was a beauty with deep-set eyes and a pert upturned nose.
She caught Alex’s stare as they waited for their drinks. “Have we met before?”
“S-sorry,” Alex stammered. “I don’t think so. I’m Alex Daniels.”
Judging from Stephanie’s blank expression, the name was unfamiliar. “Nice to meet you. I’m Stephanie.”
“Bennett, right?” Alex said too eagerly. She took a breath. “My aunt is Lydia Sobieski.”
Stephanie’s deep-blue eyes hardened. “Oh.” She glanced away.
The bartender set their respective drinks on the edge of the bar, and the women grabbed their glasses.
“I’m very sorry for your loss.” Alex tried to recover, but the moment was irredeemably awkward. “Randy—Mr. Bennett … I met him only once. But he seemed nice.”
“Nice?” She arched an eyebrow. “My husband was larger than life. That’s what drew people to him, his charisma. He loved his business and all the wealth that came with it. He gave to charity when he needed a tax deduction, and he was good to me when it suited his purposes.” The edge of her mouth trembled with tightly controlled anger. “But he wasn’t nice.”
Alex swallowed. She was failing at making friends that evening. “He sounds like he was complicated.”
“He was,” Stephanie conceded as she swirled her wine. “And his death has been complicated, too. I feel like I’ve aged ten years in the past week.”
“Do you have family in town? To help?”
“No, actually. We never had children, and my brother lives in Hong Kong—”
She stopped as Edwin pulled up beside her and set his hand possessively on her elbow. He had thinning ash-brown hair flecked with gray and a round baby face. “Steph, I wanted to tell you—” Once he noticed Alex, his dark eyes regarded her with suspicion. “Hello.”
She smiled. “Hi. I’m Alex.”
“Edwin Kenley.” His handshake was firm, but his hand was soft and wet.
Stephanie set a hand on Edwin’s forearm. “Ed was Randy’s business partner and a dear friend,” she explained. In a flash of self-consciousness, Stephanie let go of Edwin’s arm and embraced the bulb of her wineglass with two hands. “Alex is Lidia’s niece,” she said, almost through clenched teeth.
This statement only heightened Edwin’s protective instincts. “Oh?” He stepped between Stephanie and Alex. “I’m surprised to see you here, given …”
Given the relationship between the Sobieskis and the Wesleys? Or given the fact that Lidia had just been arrested for murder? Edwin had the sense to stop himself from saying more, but the damage was done. Alex’s skin grew hot, and she clutched her glass of ice water tightly against her sternum.
Edwin turned to one side as a man in a black tuxedo approached. He was short and powerfully built, with short russet-colored hair, graying at the sides, tanned weathered skin that was mostly freckled, and round friendly features, including shrewd green eyes that seemed to take everything in at once.
“Stephanie,” Edwin said, “you know Mayor Bellamy.”
“Of course, we’ve met many times,” the man boomed, and kissed Stephanie on the cheek. “How are you holding up, my dear? I’m sorry for your loss.”
“I’m all right,” she said breathily. “Thank you for your kindness. The flowers you sent to the funeral home were simply gorgeous.”
He covered her hand with his own. “I loved Randy, I really did.”
“He was a special man, wasn’t he?” Stephanie said.
“That he was,” Bronson agreed, shifting in his expensive black loafers. He noticed Alex for the first time. “I’m afraid we haven’t met. Mayor Bronson Bellamy.”
“Alex Daniels.” She accepted his firm handshake, letting him pump her hand furiously a few time, and then glanced nervously at Stephanie. She probably wouldn’t appreciate her next question, but who knew when she’d see the mayor again. “Mayor Bronson, I’ve heard you were very upset about the negotiations to purchase Bellamy Bay Realty. Or the lack thereof?”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No, of course I wasn’t upset. Surprised, perhaps. Randy and I were friends and friendly business competitors. But I certainly didn’t take it personally. Sometimes I want what I want and I don’t like to take no for an answer.” His laugh fell flat as his eyes swept the room. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here answering her questions.
To Alex he looked guilty … of something.
He clasped Stephanie’s hand in both of his. “And I was relieved to learn the police made a quick arrest. Our police department is small but top-notch.”
Edwin gave Alex an angry look. “If you don’t mind, Ms. Daniels, we have some business matters to discuss.”
“Of course. I was just leaving, actually. I’m here with someone, but I seem to have lost him.” She forced an awkward laugh. “I should probably go see what he’s up to. Nice to meet you all.”
“Likewise.” Edwin’s tone was flat as he turned Stephanie away.
Well, that was great, Alex thought. It wasn’t every day she managed to offend someone with her very presence. The crowd of guests was overwhelming, and she couldn’t make out Dylan’s dark figure anywhere. Tegan was no longer at her post on the stair landing, either. The charity auction might be beginning soon, so they could be distracted, Alex thought. It seemed the perfect time to do some searching for Captain Bellamy’s journal.
She made her way through the crowd in the great hall and entered yet another hall full of people. The mansion was expansive. Alex walked along the wall, pausing here and there to admire the artwork. The Wesleys had great taste and had filled the home with a range of work in classic styles. She recognized a painting of water lilies by Monet and a group of ballerinas by Degas. Priceless works of art simply hanging on the walls.
Alex scurried to the far end of the hall, where the crowd had dissipated. She froze. Security guards blocked the entry to the rest of the house. She bit the inside of her cheek as she tried to muster a reason for entering the residence. Then she lifted her chin and began to walk through the doorway as if she owned the place.
It didn’t work.
“Miss.” One of the beefy security guards physically stopped her exit. “The event is limited to the great halls.”
Alex blinked. “I was just—looking for Dylan,” she said.
“Dylan Wesley?”
“Yes. He’s my date.”
One guard turned to the other. They both had earpieces. When the other guard moved, she saw his holster. “Did Dylan come this way?”
“I didn’t see him.” The second guard kept his eyes fixed on the crowd.
“I’m sorry, miss, but he’s not here. You’re going to have to turn back.”
Shoot. Wasn’t Alex supposed to be irresistible to men? She’d have to ask Minka how that worked, exactly. In the meantime, she had a small vial of Violet in her handbag. Alex calmly stepped to one side of the guard, opened her bag, and took a moment to spritz some of the perfume on herself, recalling that Lidia had said this made a woman irresistible. As she sent a spray of the perfume into the air, Alex imagined herself as the kind of woman a man couldn’t say no to, hoping to amplify the spell already in place.
She set the bottle back into her handbag and looked up. One of the security guards had moved to the side of the room to speak with someone who was getting too close to a piece of art. The security guard who remained was watching her every movement. She smiled as she approached again. Amazingly, he smiled back. “I don’t suppose there’s a ladies’ room through there?” she asked sweetly. “The other ones are so crowded.”
Now the guard grinned and leaned closer to whisper, “Through the door and
down the hall to the right. But don’t tell anyone I let you through.”
“It’s our secret.” She winked and gave him a little pat on the shoulder just before slipping past. Thank you, Ciocia Lidia.
She couldn’t believe anyone lived in this museum of a structure. This hallway was wider than Lidia’s living room and seemed to stretch on for miles. The Gothic architecture was cold and ornate, with elaborate stone archways that led down other hallways or into open rooms. Alex didn’t venture far before she found something spectacular: a pillared entry opening to a round library stacked floor to second story with books. A leather couch and two chairs gathered in front of the massive fieldstone fireplace that sat empty in the center of the far wall. Elaborate Turkish rugs added warmth, and the ceiling was capped by glass. Moonlight gave the room an otherworldly glow. For a moment, Alex stood in breathless admiration of the most beautiful library she’d ever seen.
This would be a great place to hide an old journal.
Down the hall, she heard the hum of voices and music, but the library was quiet enough that she noticed her own breath. She crept down the stone steps that led to the floor and stood agape at the stacks of books. There were thousands of titles here—where would she begin looking?
Alex took a turn around the room, running her fingers along the spines. The titles closest to the door were mostly hardcovers with shiny dust jackets. It wouldn’t be there, or among the large art history collection, or the books of folklore and mythology. But the books around the fireplace were delicate, and many appeared to be first editions. An old journal could sit there for a long time without being noticed.
Alex’s heart beat harder as time passed. The library stacks were enormous. To search them adequately, she’d have to climb the ladder, check each and every title—it would take hours. “Darn it.” She stepped back from the shelves and set her hands on her hips. “All of this for nothing.”
