Fashion Jungle

by Kathy Ireland

  Ronan just shrugged. It wasn’t lost on her that he knew people in the same sort of underworld that Dane operated in. What was worse? He knew people from the CIA who could make anything look like an accident.

  Arsenic in their butter?

  Heart attack via a needle between the toes?

  Accidental overdose?

  Easy.

  “We’re getting off topic.” Brittany cleared her throat. “Let’s talk politics.”

  “My favorite subject.”

  “Funny, I thought you were your favorite subject, and I’m rarely wrong.”

  He shared a smile with her and then shook his head as if he couldn’t believe they were sitting there sharing a meal. Make that two of them. “I think I like you better jaded.”

  “Who said I was jaded?”

  “With me…” he said softly. “You’re jaded whenever you’re with me.”

  “I wonder why…” she said sarcastically. “All right, answer the question, Senator. Are we going to see you throw your hat in for a nomination for the Democratic party?”

  He grinned like he enjoyed the question, then lifted the wine to his lips and drank, never taking his eyes off her. “What if I told you I was throwing my hat in for the other side?”

  She did a double-take. “I’d say you’re already drunk and should probably get your head checked before your mom runs you over with her Lincoln.”

  He burst out laughing, earning the attention of several people in the restaurant, inevitably followed by the whispering that always occurred when they realized who he was, who she was.

  Ah, lovely. The past was throwing itself into the future.

  Cheers.

  “You never know.” He leaned in so only she could hear. “I may enjoy seeing my mom’s face turn a shade of purple I haven’t seen before…”

  “Take this seriously.” She found herself relaxing as his cologne created a frisson of memories. “What are your plans?”

  “Call me ‘Senator’ again, and you may find out.”

  “Happy birthday, Mr. President,” she said in a sing-song voice before reaching for her wine again.

  “Nice, bring my father into it, well played.” He chuckled. “All right, the truth, since I always promised you that.”

  She waited.

  He let out a rough exhale, followed by a curse. “I don’t want to, no.”

  She frowned. “Then why the rumors?”

  “That would be my mother thinking I should. That would be the family thinking the apocalypse is coming if a Kampbell isn’t in the Oval Office. Personally, I’m not sure I would be the best choice for this country, and that’s what it’s about, isn’t it? At the end of the day, it’s not about me or my family name, it’s about the country. How’s that for a diplomatic answer?”

  She swallowed the dryness in her throat and stared at her hands in her lap. “Well, you just got my vote.”

  “Oh, yeah? Why’s that, Britt?”

  “Because an honest politician is a good one,” she said seriously. “And we need more of that in this world.”

  “Yes.” He lifted his wine glass up. “We do.”

  She cleared her throat and looked away just as a text flew across her screen.

  Zoe: Staying at Dane’s again. Safe.

  Brittany frowned.

  “Something wrong?” Ronan asked in that casual way he did when he was trying to be caring. She never could decipher between the tones he used with her and those he used with other people he wanted to placate. How sad.

  “Not wrong, no.” She sighed and then shared a look with him that felt familiar. He slowly slid his hand down the table and then pressed it to her thigh like he used to when he was concerned.

  Back then, his touch had felt like a promise.

  Like forever.

  Now, it just felt like sadness.

  She held back her tears like she always did in his presence and forced a smile. “Zoe’s been staying with Dane. Aaron’s out of prison. Remember her stalker?”

  Ronan’s expression hardened, the lines around his mouth tightening before he nodded. “Yeah, stalkers that are hell-bent on killing the people you love are hard to forget, don’t you think?”

  “He was never after me,” Brittany said quickly.

  Rage crossed Ronan’s features. “You don’t know that, trust me. Dane found pictures of all of you girls. The only reason he’s even in prison is because, in a fit of anger, he accidentally killed his own brother.”

  “Accidentally.” Brittany tested the word. She’d never asked how it was possible for someone to accidentally fall on his own knife, the same blade that had Aaron’s fingerprints all over it, the one that’d lodged itself in his brother’s chest minutes before the police arrived.

  In a way, she didn’t want to know.

  Sometimes, the truth was scarier than the lie.

  Reality stranger than fiction.

  “I tried,” Ronan said in a softer tone. “I had a golf game with the DA, but it was out of his hands. The guy says he’s saved… found God and all that.”

  Brittany stilled.

  Ronan tilted his head; his laser-like intensity focused solely on her. “Maybe you two have that in common, running around saving us sinners from ourselves.”

  “That’s not fair.” She gulped and looked away. “I’ve never pretended to be anything except myself.”

  “Exactly.” Ronan leaned in. “The reason you’re so appealing…” His knuckles brushed her cheek before he dropped his hand back to her thigh. “What would you say if I told you I never stopped loving you?”

  “Stop.” Tears stung her eyes as her throat almost closed up. “Please… stop.”

  He shook his head. “Never. I was wrong. You know it. I know it. The world should know it, too. And it’s about time they knew the truth.”

  She tried to stand.

  He held her down. “Not that truth. Ours.”

  “You can’t share partial truths.”

  “I’m a senator. I can do whatever I want.”

  Ain’t that the truth? “Funny, since you did exactly that. I was in the hospital… alone.” A tear slid down. “You never came then. What makes you think I would ever trust you again?”

  He didn’t let her answer, just leaned across the table and brushed a kiss to her knuckles then whispered, “I don’t need your trust, just your heart.”

  She shivered, squeezing her eyes shut. No. She would not go down this road again. She was finally in a better place—older, wiser. But that was the thing about your past. Even when you knew you’d learned your lesson, temptation lingered, and bad habits weren’t easy to quit. He’d been one of them, and he’d sucked her into the vortex of his prowess too easily. She’d fallen for it. He’d offered her the world, and she’d believed him. “We’re in public.”

  “I can fix that.”

  “Ronan—”

  He stood and dropped a few hundred-dollar bills on the table, grabbed her hand, and then led her back toward the kitchen and a familiar hallway.

  Then outside to the alleyway.

  His hands on her hips the whole way.

  Her body dying a bit with each step, knowing exactly what he was going to do. She knew him better than he knew himself.

  And then those hands slid up and cupped her face, pulling her in for a punishing kiss that was sixteen years too late.

  She opened her mouth to protest. He used it as a way to deepen the kiss, to press his fingers into her skin, to pull her flush against his chest and curse against her lips like he was angry that they’d been gone so long.

  “No.” She shoved his chest with both hands as her chest heaved with frustration. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, tears filling her eyes. “Not only are you still married, but you can’t suddenly decide that I’m what you want. Not now.”

  “Britt…” His voice was gruff. “We were good together. We are good together. Why can’t we start over?”

  “You of all people should know you can�
�t rewrite history.” It was unbelievable that she could even find her voice as her body trembled like it couldn’t handle the onslaught of sadness and disbelief.

  “My father tried.”

  “He was a good man.”

  “People say that all the time to me, every day of my life, and the only time I ever truly believe it, is when it’s coming from you. From the light in those blue eyes, from the goodness of your lips.” He reached for her again.

  She backed up against the wall. “I’m seeing someone.”

  “I know. The doctor. Olive?”

  “You know his name.”

  “Momentary lapse of memory…” Ronan grinned smugly.

  Why did he have to have so much charisma?

  Addict. Addict. Addict.

  He wanted what he couldn’t have, but when she needed him the most, needed him to be the man that she always saw—he had run.

  Not this time.

  “Ronan.” She pressed a hand against his chest. “We need to finish the interview.” Her purse became a lifeline as she pulled it in front of her body to create separation, gripping it so tightly her knuckles whitened. She prayed he couldn’t see her knees shaking, or the way tears swam in her eyes. Too late, he was too late. “Let’s go to the bar next door, and you can tell me all about your thriving political career—all without kissing me.”

  “Fine.” He backed away. “I’ll do that and more… but I will be kissing you again. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but you’re mine, Britt. You’ve only ever been mine.”

  “I belong to no one but myself,” she said with a shaky voice, staring daggers at him as he offered her his arm and then walked her slowly down the darkened alleyway toward the bar next door.

  “Maybe that’s the problem, Britt. You say you belong to yourself, but all you’ve ever wanted was to share yourself with someone else.”

  God give her strength.

  She was not ready for him.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  She found herself praying the entire walk to the bar. With each footstep, she asked for the strength to get through this.

  Because as right as he’d always felt…

  This time, she knew it was wrong.

  That lingering sense of dread was like a choking, pulsating smoke column between them.

  She suddenly wished her mom was there to tell her what to do, but what would she say? Hey, Mom, you know that guy I slept with but didn’t tell you I slept with because I felt guilty? Well, he got me pregnant and then left me, and now he’s going to run for president. Oh, right, and he wants me back. You know, after he divorces his current wife. Surprise!

  Ronan leaned over. “You all right?” he whispered, his lips hitting the curve of her ear. She knew it was on purpose. Because everything he did had a purpose, a reason, and now she wondered if it was something more. If he was using her for his own personal gain.

  Gritting her teeth, she nodded, sat down on the barstool, and waved the bartender over. “A Manhattan, make it strong.”

  Ronan just grinned and said, “Same.”

  It was going to be a long night.

  New York Fashion Week Countdown - 10 Days

  Zoe stretched her arms above her head as she made her way out of the guest bedroom and padded into the kitchen. Coffee was already on, naturally, because Dane wouldn’t live in a world where the coffee wasn’t programmed to make itself the minute he needed to take over the universe.

  She grabbed a black mug and poured herself a cup and nearly dropped it onto the slate floor when Dane walked into the kitchen.

  Shirtless.

  Mouth dry, she averted her eyes and barely managed to walk in a straight line to the barstool.

  “I must be growing on you. Yesterday morning, you only stared for two seconds. I’d like to think this time it was at least four.”

  Zoe let out a snort. “I never thought I’d see the day where the Great Dane Saldino counted how many seconds a woman stared at him.”

  “Not just any woman, my future wife.” He grinned wolfishly then turned to face her, his ridiculously toned body on display. Silk pajama bottoms that should look stupid only added to the effect. How was it possible that he’d grown muscle on top of more muscle? It was unfair that men aged into themselves, and women were told that wrinkles needed to be managed. His eyes crinkled at the sides, giving him an almost boyish look, which was so foreign that her mouth gaped.

  “Out with it.” She set down her coffee. “You’re in too good of a mood, and you just smiled like I agreed to your terms while shopping for wedding dresses.”

  “I think I’d like something strapless on you.” He leaned his massive body over the counter. His dark hair was unruly as if he’d run his hands through it multiple times. “Why don’t you design your own?”

  “Nice subject change.” She scowled. “And you’re still smiling. To be honest, it’s starting to creep me out. Don’t you have children to scare, puppies to drown?”

  The corners of his mouth tilted up into a grin. “I think I’d like children.”

  “Okay, seriously.” Zoe felt her patience waver right along with her belief that the man was incapable of domestication. “Children? You’ve never wanted children!”

  “Maybe I’ve turned over a new leaf.” His face was inches from her. “Besides, I had you in this apartment two days in a row, and you managed not to suffocate me with my own pillow. I’d say that’s progress.”

  “Must have been asleep when I had one hovering over you for a solid half hour last night.” Zoe grinned into her cup as she took another long sip.

  “Cute.” He winked. “And, trust me, if you were anywhere near me, I’d know. You stir my blood too much for me to sleep through your presence. I’d like to think I’d be awake before you even stepped into the room.”

  “Huh.” She gulped, not really sure what to say to that because if she lingered on his current mood and the way he’d taken care of her these past two days by just making her feel safe, she’d waver. She’d start to question all the reasons for not marrying him and do something stupid.

  She just needed to remind herself why he was bad news, why he would destroy her from the inside out.

  It wouldn’t be hard. All Zoe had to do was think about all the people he’d hurt, all the lives he’d destroyed with a smile on his face, and she’d be fine.

  But when he was that close…

  When he smiled at her.

  When he showed her that he could be normal, at least in that apartment, it made her question.

  And, sadly, that was probably his plan all along. He never attacked quickly. No, Dane was willing to wait for years to get what he wanted.

  “You know I want kids,” she said quietly. “Please don’t use that against me, it’s not fair.”

  “I’m not.” He stood to his full height. “I wouldn’t.”

  His gaze penetrated her as he slowly rounded the corner of the breakfast bar and then reached for something inside his briefcase.

  Frowning, she watched him pull out an old, folded piece of paper.

  Heart in her throat, she nearly fell out of her chair when he approached, opening the note slowly. It was worn, the blue lines on the notebook paper faded so much they could barely be seen anymore. It was the checklist she’d given him the day he’d told her that he loved her, the one signed by every one of her friends, Danica included.

  “You kept it.” Her voice shook. “You actually kept this?”

  “This”—he dangled the paper in front of her—“is a legally binding contract between two hearts, two souls that recognize their need for each other regardless of what their mouths say.”

  Zoe pressed her lips into a firm line, not trusting herself to speak.

  “I kept it, just like I kept your heart. Just like I’ve never dishonored your body, even though I’ve had every right to find another woman. It’s only ever been you. You, Zoe.”

  “Are you telling me you’ve been celibate for the last ye
ar?” She gaped.

  “You.” Dane leaned in and whispered in her ear. “When I make a promise, I keep it. I told you I was a one-woman man, and I meant every word. I’ve been celibate since the night you walked out of my life, and I’ll stay that way until you walk back in.”

  Zoe stood, nearly colliding with him and his cup of coffee. She backed up to put space between them. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Yes.” Their eyes locked. “You do.”

  “I need to get to work.” She turned and bolted toward the guest room just as he called after her.

  “I’ll have two of my men tail you today. I need you to stay safe.”

  She slammed the door shut without answering and leaned back against it. Tears spilled over onto her cheeks.

  She didn’t believe him.

  She couldn’t.

  She’d given him everything, and he’d… he’d ruined it! He’d ruined her.

  She tried to replay all the memories, the gossip in the magazines, the different women on each arm. The lifestyle he led. His clubs alone made him look like the worst sort of person.

  And yet she was crying.

  Because he’d never once lied to her.

  It was one of the only things he had going for him, other than his good looks.

  She slid down the door, and her body landed in a heap on the floor. What if she was wrong, though? What if he wanted all of those things? A family? Kids? What if he wasn’t the same man?

  What if?

  Two of the most dangerous words in human history.

  She sucked in a deep breath then slowly stood, compartmentalizing that conversation and shoving it into the farthest corner of her mind. Work. Fashion Week. That was all that mattered, not the stupid checklist she had given him when she told him that she loved him.

  Not the vow she’d made to his sister when she confessed that it was Dane all along who owned her heart.

  “I love him,” Zoe said softly. “He keeps me safe. I keep him human.”

  Danica pulled her in for a hug. “Don’t let him lose his humanity. Don’t let him turn into the monster. The darkness always pulls at us both.” She looked away. “He fights it the way a person should. Sometimes, I wish I was more like him, more willing to face my demons instead of just lying down and taking their punishment.”