In the corporate world, Reid knew that recipes of any food business were highly guarded, kept under lock and key and sophisticated alarm systems. And though it was a white-collar crime, it was still a crime.
“Isn’t it a little extreme for Wilheim to have your father arrested?” Reid asked.
“Wilheim hated my father,” Tina said. “Even though all the recipes my father took were his own, they were recipes that Wilheim had taken credit for. Wilheim was worried he would be found out.”
“Surely your father could have proven himself innocent,” Reid argued. “The courts would have exonerated him.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” She sighed. “Wilheim had connections in high places. My father was young and afraid he would rot in prison. So he and my mother left the country on a merchant ship and were married. He worked in the galley to support them. When they came to America, they changed their name, moved from New York to Florida, then ended up in Savannah just before Sophia was born.”
She looked so pale, Reid thought. Her eyes so empty. And for the first time, he felt the fear snake through him.
“Tina. Sit.” She stiffened when he took her arm, but he held on and tugged her to a chair, then knelt beside her. “That was thirty years ago. Wilheim is probably dead by now.”
She shook her head. “He’s not dead.”
“So, what difference does it make?” Reid said. “He couldn’t possibly still be angry.”
“Oh, but he is,” she said quietly. “When my father left, he did take something of Wilheim’s.”
“What was that?”
“My mother. Wilheim is my grandfather.”
Whoa. Reid whistled through his teeth, then sat in the chair beside Tina. “Oh,” was all he could manage to say.
“Yeah. Oh.”
They were both silent for a moment, then Tina said, “My mother has called my grandfather several times over the years and tried to mend the rift, but he refuses. He insists he can still have my father arrested. My mother has never told him their new name or where we live, in case he tries to cause trouble.”
“It will never stick, not after all this time. A good lawyer will clear him.”
“My father is worried that even an accusation of being a thief will bring shame to his family. It’s one of the reasons he’s always been so protective of us, worrying that someday he might be found out.”
“But your mother was happy when she thought I was interested in Rachel,” Reid insisted.
“She was too excited at the prospect of one of her daughters marrying a Danforth to think about repercussions to the family,” Tina said. “My father is innocent but innocent people are ruined everyday, Reid. I don’t have to tell you that.”
What she was saying was true, Reid knew. No matter how innocent a person truly was, accusations hung around like a bad smell. “Look, Tina, I know how difficult this might seem to you, but we—”
“It’s not difficult, it’s impossible. And I’m only telling you all this so you’ll understand.” She stood, looked down at him. “I can’t jeopardize my family, and I won’t jeopardize yours, either. If we continued to see each other, the media would be just as interested in my family as they are yours, and they’d be looking for dirt. Everyone would be hurt.”
“Dammit, Tina.” He rose and took hold of her arm. “We’ll find a way to—”
“There is no ‘we,’ Reid,” she said quietly, pulling her arm back. “There can’t be. Not now. Not ever.”
He wanted to shake her. Wanted to argue, to yell, throw something, even. But the cold conviction in her eyes told him that nothing was going to get through to her.
So he said nothing. Just felt his gut tighten and his stomach clench as he watched her turn, open the door and walk out of his life.
Ten
“It will not be too big, I have decided. No more than two hundred. Tina and Sophia, you will help me with the menu. Yana, you will take the pictures, of course.”
Even though ten days had passed since Rachel and Jason had gotten married and left for Los Angeles, Mariska had not stopped talking about the impending reception. No one bothered to mention to her that she’d repeated herself at least a hundred times. She was too caught up in the excitement of her daughter’s marriage to listen to anyone but herself. And the baby, good heavens! Mariska Alexander was going to be a grandmother, and she made sure that everyone knew.
While her mother rattled on and her father cleaned his oven, Tina dried the cake pans that Sophia and Yana had washed. It was the end of a long, busy day at the bakery, and rather than go home, Tina had stayed to help clean. If she kept busy, she didn’t think as much.
It hurt to think. For that matter, it hurt to breathe.
“And the cake! Ivan, you must create something special, so special that people will cry at the mere sight of it, let alone the taste.”
Just the mention of Rachel’s wedding cake did make Tina feel like crying. She was happy for her sister, of course, and for Jason, but with her own heart shattered into tiny pieces, it was more than a little difficult to get excited about a wedding reception.
Reid had made several attempts to talk with her since she’d walked out of his office, but she’d coolly and quickly ended any discussion he’d tried to have with her. What was the point in discussing what could never be? It was impossible to date openly, and dangerous to date secretly.
Maybe it was for the best, she thought. They hadn’t known each other that long. Surely it would only hurt more later when he decided to move on, she told herself. But it didn’t make her feel any better, and she couldn’t imagine any pain worse than what she felt in her chest right now.
“Abraham Danforth’s secretary called this morning and ordered three hundred pastries for Saturday,” Mariska said to everyone. “We will need extra hands to have them ready for delivery by four.”
Tina’s fingers tightened on the towel in her hand. Just hearing the name Danforth made her heart skip, but she forced herself to remain calm. She knew her family was concerned about her since she’d ended her relationship with Reid. She didn’t want them to worry or fuss over her, was afraid she might break down if they did.
She’d convinced them all she’d be fine, that Reid had understood why they could never be more than friends. It was ridiculous, of course. She knew she could never truly just be friends with Reid. Not when every time she saw him she wanted to wrap herself around him, wanted to feel his heartbeat against hers, his mouth on her lips.
She shook the dangerous thoughts off, set down the pan she’d dried, then picked up another without missing a beat.
“We will all have to be ready for the party by six-thirty,” Mariska continued. “Cocktails are at seven and dinner is at eight.”
Party? Tina’s hand stilled on the cake pan.
The party. At Crofthaven. What seemed like a lifetime ago, Nicola had invited all the volunteers at the orientation meeting to come to a campaign-kick-off celebration. Tina silently groaned. She’d completely forgotten. And when she realized the party was only two days from now, her heart jackhammered against her ribs.
Oh, dear God! She couldn’t possibly go. Couldn’t look at Reid, couldn’t even be in the same room with him. Here at the bakery was one thing, but at a party? Without the formality of work and the solid wall of a counter between them, she would fall apart for certain.
“Tina?”
She glanced up sharply and looked at her mother. “What?”
“Will you be all right?” Mariska asked softly. “You do not have to go if you do not want to.”
“Of course I’m going.” The way everyone was watching her, with sympathy in their eyes, she knew she had to go. She needed to prove to her family that she was over Reid. This would be the perfect opportunity. She would laugh, she would smile, maybe even flirt a little, though she’d rather pick blackberries in high heels, naked.
She imagined the feeling would be somewhat the same.
“Are you sure?” Sophia asked softly.
“I told you.” Tina shrugged casually and reached for another pan to dry. “Reid and I are still friends. I’ll be fine.”
Her father grunted, and she wasn’t sure if the sound was directed at her or the oven he was cleaning.
It didn’t matter, she told herself. As difficult as it would be, she would go to the party, and for everyone’s sake, she would pretend she was having a wonderful time.
It was nearly midnight when Reid walked through his front door. He’d spent the day at his father’s campaign headquarters, but the escalating crisis with the lost container had kept him at his Danforth & Co. office until after eleven. Maximilian Paper Products’ shipping department had been screaming at Reid’s office to find the container immediately, and Reid had decided to handle the problem himself. Fortunately, the error had turned up on Maximilian’s end when Reid discovered that one of the office workers had transposed a docking number. Once the mistake had been cleared, Reid had finally been able to go home.
Not that it much mattered to him where he went. If anything, he’d rather stay at work and deal with angry clients. It was much easier than coming home to an empty apartment. Much easier than sleeping alone in his bed, thinking about Tina. Remembering the way she’d looked lying in his bed, with her hair tousled and her eyes glazed with passion.
He missed her smile, the way her brow arched when she was surprised. The way she said his name. When she was annoyed, it was “Reid!” short and clipped. When she smiled, it was “Reid,” warm and soft. When they’d made love it was breathless, “Reid…”
He couldn’t get her out of his head, though God knew he’d tried. Other than a polite hello every time he’d gone into the bakery, she hadn’t actually spoken to him for ten days. Ten days, dammit!
He dropped his keys on his entry table and dragged a hand through his hair. If she refused to talk to him, how the hell were they supposed to work out this problem?
But the real question was, could they?
Sighing, he slipped out of his coat, tossed it over a living room chair, then sank down on the sofa. He’d gone over what she’d told him a hundred times, looking for a loophole somewhere, but he hadn’t found one. Any kind of open confrontation with her grandfather would put her family in peril, and if he and Tina continued to see each other, the press would most certainly find out and dig into her family’s background. Ultimately they would find out something. They always did. And no matter how small something was, how insignificant, it would be sensationalized. His father’s campaign would be hurt, and though Reid seriously doubted Tina’s father would be deported or go to jail, he still stood the danger of his reputation being tarnished.
The media and the gossipmongers would have a field day.
Unbuttoning his shirt, he closed his eyes on a weary sigh and laid his head back. He could almost smell her sweetness, could almost taste it, could almost hear her laugh, her sigh. Everything about her lingered here.
On an oath, he rose and walked to his liquor cabinet, pulled out a bottle of Glenlivet, then put it back. Too smooth, he thought, and grabbed a bottle of cheap whiskey instead. He needed something with more of a bite, something he could sink his teeth into.
Pouring a healthy shot, he tossed it back, felt it burn all the way down, then poured another, hoping like hell it would wash away the lump in his chest that refused to go away.
Crofthaven received its guests with uniformed valets and thousands of twinkling white lights on the front lawn trees. Once whisked inside and coats checked, they were greeted by a five-piece band playing soft pop music and white-gloved waiters serving shrimp toast, salmon-mousse-stuffed cherry tomatoes, melted brie in puff pastry and spicy meatballs in wine sauce. Drinks were available from a full-service bar, while roving wine and soda attendants offered refills for the thirsty crowd.
By Crofthaven standards, 150 people was not a large party. Abraham and Nicola had invited only the first group of volunteers from the main campaign headquarters and a dozen or so of the campaign’s largest donors. The press, a carefully selected few, had also been treated to the evening’s festivities. They swarmed through the crowded ballroom like hornets, buzzing with questions disguised as casual conversation, hoping, praying, for the tiniest piece of breaking news, good or bad, though any reporter worth his or her salt knew that bad always made bigger, more interesting headlines.
Standing by the closed patio French doors with Ian, Reid took in all the people, their smiling faces, bright eyes and animated conversations. Though he’d never much cared for parties, he’d never especially detested them, either. Until tonight.
Tonight his neck hurt from sleeping on his sofa for the past week; his vision was blurred from sitting at his computer all day while he’d entered docking manifests into a log; and to top it off, he had an annoying twitch in the corner of his left eye.
When Albert Johnson, one of his father’s wealthiest contributors and staunch supporters walked by, Reid forced a smile and thought his face might break.
“Hard to believe that only a week ago police lines and the coroner’s office were center stage here,” Ian said quietly to Reid. “It almost seems as if we dreamed the whole thing.”
Nodding, Reid snagged a glass of red wine from a passing tray. He felt that way about Tina, too. As if being with her had never truly happened. That he’d had the ultimate dream that had turned into a nightmare.
Getting drunk the other night hadn’t helped, he thought, taking a gulp of his wine, but what the hell, maybe he’d try it again. “What’s really hard to believe is that it hasn’t leaked to the press yet.”
“Nicola has a statement ready to go. Two, actually, one if we discover it is Vickie, and the other if it isn’t. In the meantime,” Ian said somberly, “we wait.”
Reid glanced at his aunt and uncle, who were on the other side of the ballroom. Though they were both smiling and shaking hands with people, Reid knew that on the inside they were anxious and more than a little afraid of what the coroner’s results would show.
He also knew they would have preferred not to show up tonight but had worried that their absence might have led to questions, questions that always led to suspicions that there were problems in the Danforth family. Problems that the other candidates would love to pounce on and blow out of proportion.
Which is the exact same reason I’m here tonight, Reid thought. He sure didn’t feel like shaking hands and making idle conversation, either. What he felt like was putting on a pair of boxing gloves and punching off some of the rage that had been building in him since Tina had walked out of his life.
He was going absolutely crazy.
He’d hoped that as each day passed and he stayed away from her he wouldn’t miss her so much, that he wouldn’t think about her every minute of the day and dream about her at night. What had happened was he missed her more. Not even burying himself in his work and the campaign had eased the tension burning his blood.
And though he’d told himself he didn’t want to be here tonight and he’d only come for appearance’s sake, he knew the real reason he was here. The only reason he was here.
He’d hoped that Tina would come.
When Ivan and Mariska had walked in several minutes ago without their youngest daughter, Reid’s hope had disintegrated. He supposed he understood why she hadn’t come, but dammit, if he couldn’t do anything else, he’d at least wanted to talk to her. To see her. At this point he was willing to take whatever crumb he could find.
While he continued to scan the ballroom, just in case he’d missed her come in, he sipped the glass of wine and did his best to listen to Ian discuss a new coffee he’d added to the already extensive menu at D&D’s.
“…full body and the taste is a little sweet…”
Tina has a sweet taste, Reid thought. And her body…hell, that body drove him mad.
“…and a smoothness about it that should make it…”
Smooth. Tina’s skin was silky smooth, like rose petals.
“…blended is selling well, though there seems to be a preference to hot…”
Definitely a preference to hot. The image of Tina lying naked under him, whispering his name, her body moving in rhythm with his—dammit!
He missed everything about her.
“Something wrong with your eye?” Ian asked, interrupting Reid’s wayward thoughts.
“No.” Scowling, Reid touched the corner of his left eye.
Ian leaned closer. “It’s twitching.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Nothing.” Ian chuckled. “Right. Unless nothing is about Tina.”
“Let it rest, Ian.”
“Sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Ian grinned. “Since you’re looking like a lovestruck pup, might as well get it off your chest.”
“Are you intentionally trying to provoke me?” Reid asked tightly. “Or does it just come naturally?”
“Neither.” Ian’s grin widened. “I just want to watch the look on your face when I tell you that Tina just walked in with her aunt.”
Reid’s head snapped around at Ian’s comment. He thought for a moment that Ian was messing with his mind. But then he saw her, standing at the ballroom entrance, and his heart stopped, along with his ability to think or breathe.
She wore red. Not siren red, but deep, deep red, more the color of a fine claret. The dress shimmered snugly around her slim shape, scooped low over her breasts, but stopped demurely at her knees. Her heels were high and shiny black, open at the toes and wrapped around her narrow ankles. She’d done something different to her hair, sort of swept half up and let the other half tumble around her soft shoulders. Her lips were red, too, but her eyes were smoky.
When she turned and he saw the back of her dress—a lace-up, corset look that exposed just enough skin to make a man need to see more—his heart jumped up into his throat.
“Can I have her?” Ian sounded hopeful. “’Cause if you’re not going to—”
“Shut up, Ian,” Reid growled. “Don’t say it, don’t even think it, unless you want us to be headline news on the Savannah Morning tomorrow.”
The Cinderella Scandal (Dynasties: The Danforths Book 1) Page 13
