Mogul

by Joanna Shupe

  Davies did not appear pacified by this information. Agitated, he ran his hands through his hair and stomped over to the windows. “How did you bear it?” he asked after a long moment.

  “How did I bear what?”

  “The separation. After my father forced you to walk away. How did you bear being separated from her?”

  Whiskey. Work. Other women. While he had indulged in all three, those were not the correct answers. “Nothing made it more tolerable—and I tried everything. Only time, and even then the pain just dulls.” And Hugo had lived with the feeling for over five years. How had his friend managed to stay sane? “The papers helped. I focused on those until I dropped over at my desk. And your sister left town, so the constant reminders of her stopped.”

  “You never considered following her? Checking up on her?”

  Nearly every damn day. “I couldn’t. I knew she was better off.”

  “You never cashed the check with the bank.”

  Calvin started, surprised Davies had learned such a piece of news. Davies continued, “I looked into it after Lily told me. You never took my father’s money. So why haven’t you told her?”

  “I . . .” He rubbed his forehead. “It’s for the best. For now anyway.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. Knowing that would entirely change her perception of you, of what happened with the annulment.”

  Precisely, which was why Calvin remained silent. It wouldn’t make any difference to be partially honest with her. He needed to wait until he could tell her all of it.

  “Oh, I see. You want her to think the worst of you.” Disgust twisted his boyish features. “I don’t understand the two of you at all. There’s nothing standing in your way to happiness and yet—”

  Davies bit off the rest of it and stared out at Manhattan, his shoulders tight with unhappiness. Guilt nagged at Calvin, an uncomfortable sensation in his gut. As sorry as he felt for Davies, however, he would not deviate from the plan. Not when they were so close.

  “Davies, I know you love her. It’ll all be over soon. You’ll look back years from now and this will all seem so distant. So insignificant.”

  “I hope you’re right. If there’s anything she needs—”

  Calvin held up his hand. “We’ll let you know, I promise. She’s being well cared for. Now, was there anything else?”

  “Yes. Fields has asked for my sister’s hand.”

  Calvin’s brain stopped churning. Just froze, as those words bounced around in his skull. Fields . . . marrying Lily. His Lily. Fuck. Goddamn. Shit. Calvin slapped the desk with his palm, pain radiating up his arm. Closing his eyes, he struggled to keep calm. You knew this was coming. It was inevitable.

  Yes, but he’d hoped to have more time.

  He had no right to pursue her, not with so much uncertainty swirling about them. Not when he was still a liar and a charlatan. Better to wait until everything with Lee had been settled and Hugo’s wife had arrived. But time wasn’t on Calvin’s side. His hand had been forced, thanks to Montgomery Fields.

  “And what did you say?” he asked quietly.

  “I gave my blessing, contingent on Lily’s feelings of course.”

  “Of course,” Calvin returned.

  “What would you have me do, Cabot? There’s no earthly reason to refuse the man. He’s wealthy, from a good family, cares about her.”

  Logically, Calvin knew Davies was right. But there was nothing logical about Calvin’s feelings for Lily. His desire for her was immeasurable, yet convoluted. Twisted and over the bend. The two of them made no sense whatsoever. The number of hours they’d spent together didn’t equal a drop in a bucket compared to most couples. Yet Calvin knew in the deepest parts of his soul that this was the one woman for him.

  And he was going to lose her.

  “Has Lily answered yet?”

  “Fields wants to propose himself. He asked me not to say anything to her.”

  “And did you?”

  Davies walked over to the desk. “Yes, I did. I wanted to prepare her, in case it was not the proposal she was hoping for.”

  “What does that mean?” Calvin snapped.

  “It means she has the chance to move on with her life. And if you don’t want her, then don’t stand in her way.”

  * * *

  A noise awoke Lily, and with it the realization that something was wrong. Was that a shadow? Dear Lord, someone was in her room. Panic rose in her throat and she opened her mouth to scream.

  A hand clapped over the lower half of her face. “Quiet,” a familiar deep voice said near her ear. “It’s only me.”

  She shoved against his arm and he released her. Rising up on an elbow, she found him lying in the bed next to her. He’d taken off his frock coat and shoes, as if he planned on staying.

  Fear dissipated, leaving only annoyance in its place. “What in God’s name are you doing here?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “In the middle of the night? In my bedroom?” She flopped down on the mattress and blew out a breath. “You scared the life out of me.”

  “I apologize. This is the first free moment I’ve had all day.”

  “Regardless, that does not give you the right to sneak into my bedroom like some sort of prowler or peeping Tom.”

  “If I were a peeping Tom, I’d be sorely disappointed.” He fingered the frills of her high-necked cotton nightdress, causing her nipples to harden beneath the fabric. “I prefer you with a lot less clothing on.”

  The husky sound skated down her spine, wound through her blood, and settled in the needy place between her thighs. Absurd, this man’s control over her nether regions.

  She smacked his hand away. “Whatever it is you need to say, hurry it along and get out of my house.”

  He rolled to face her and propped his head on his hand. His other hand slowly swept over her shoulder. “Did you say yes to Fields? Are you going to marry him?”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “That is what you wanted to ask me?”

  “I can’t help it. It’s all I can think about. I don’t want to see you make another mistake.”

  “Worried about your conscience again?” Her voice held a sharp edge, one she knew he would not miss.

  “Don’t tease me, Lily. You know it’s more than that.”

  “Do I? You’ve run from me and pushed me away at every turn. You are not allowed to be jealous of Monty.”

  “Christ, don’t call him that.” He dropped on the bed. “It turns my stomach.”

  Unbelievable. The man had considerable nerve. “How many women have you been with since our marriage?” The room fell silent, the only sound their collective breathing as the moment stretched. “Precisely. I haven’t slept with any man, save you. Monty hasn’t even kissed me. So take your dashed jealousy—”

  Calvin shot up to stare at her, his own gaze wide with shock. “Fields hasn’t kissed you?” His smirk became plain even in the near dark, and she winced. Heavens, why had she told him? He’d prove unbearable now.

  “Don’t appear so pleased about that fact. It does not factor into my decision.”

  “It should.” He reached up and slid a fingertip along her jaw, and her skin pebbled under the light movement. “Kissing is very important to the success of a marriage. Perhaps we should practice, to keep your skills finely honed.”

  Despite her irritation with him, she chuckled. How could he be so utterly charming and aggravating at the same time? “Try it and I’ll smother you with a pillow.”

  “No, you won’t.” He leaned in, his warm, strong body hovering over her, causing her heart to pound. His lips brushed her cheek. “You want me every bit as much as I want you.”

  Yes, she did. Wetness had already gathered between her legs, accompanied by a steady humming in her blood. No other man had ever come close to affecting her as deeply and she wasn’t sure one ever would. She and Calvin were like water and electricity: each potent on its own but dangero
us when brought together.

  She pushed his shoulder and rolled him until their positions were reversed. She looked down at him, his brown hair tantalizingly disheveled, rough whiskers coating his jaw. Steely eyes filled with the promise of unimaginable pleasure. He was a rogue, through and through. The type of man bred to break hearts.

  How easy it would be to give in, to relax and melt under him. To let him love her, give her pleasure and take his in return. This had always worked between the two of them, the physical attraction. Everything else, however, remained a mess. The lies, the annulment, his unwillingness to fight for her . . . How much of her self-respect was she willing to sacrifice before none remained?

  “I want a man who will stay, Calvin.” He started to speak, so she placed a finger on his lips. “One who will stay after his orgasm. One who’ll be honest with me. Treat me as an equal—”

  A nearby floorboard creaked and Calvin held up a hand, quieting her. She held her breath as they both listened. No staff would be up and about in this wing of the house at this hour. She mouthed, Hugo?

  Calvin shook his head. They waited, and a minute later another squeak sounded, closer now. Calvin pointed to her dressing room and whispered, “Wait in there.”

  She clutched his arm as he started to get out of bed. “Why? What are you going to do?”

  “Go, now!” he ordered quietly and began shoving pillows under the bedclothes.

  She slid off the mattress, her bare feet making no sound on the carpet as she crept to the dressing room. Blood rushed in her ears. What was Calvin going to do? Who was creeping down her hall?

  Once in the dressing room she pressed against the wall behind the door and listened. Perhaps they were overreacting. The noise could have been the house settling. Or a mouse. You know it’s not a mouse. Do not grow hysterical. Where was Calvin? He wasn’t planning on confronting whoever made the noise, was he? She tried to control her breathing and remain calm. Undoubtedly they would have a good laugh over this in a few—

  The latch on her bedroom door clicked as someone opened the wooden panel. She held perfectly still, straining to hear any further sounds for what felt like an eternity. Dear God, Calvin was somewhere in there. Her chest constricted, her lungs seizing with the realization that he could be killed. Why hadn’t she dragged him in here as well?

  A grunt sounded right before a bone-jarring crash. Then she heard several thumps and the sound of someone being hit. Lily gasped and glanced around the dressing room for a weapon, anything she could use to protect herself and Calvin. A metal hat stand caught her eye and she lunged for it, grasping the neck with both hands before rushing into the bedroom.

  Calvin was shaking out his fist, otherwise unharmed. A man lay on the ground, unmoving. Lily rushed to the wall and turned the switch. The electric lights came on, revealing the aftermath of the attack. Calvin’s vest and starched shirtfront were splattered with blood, his face set in grim lines. A Chinese man dressed in black lay on the ground, unmoving, blood streaming from his nose.

  Lily’s bedroom door flew open. Tom, clad in a silk dressing gown, burst inside. “What the hell is happening in here?”

  Instead of answering, Calvin went to the window, parted the curtains, and threw up the sash. “Hugo!”

  “Cabot, you’d best start talking,” Tom said, now standing with his arms akimbo in the middle of the room.

  Calvin turned around, and she could see a bruise forming on his cheek. He said in a flat voice, “Someone just broke in and tried to kill your sister.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Calvin had to hand it to Davies. Lily’s brother took the news surprisingly well, merely finding a chair and dropping into it, his expression dazed. Calvin, on the other hand, wanted to kill someone. He wanted to maim and strangle. Rip the intruder apart with his bare hands.

  But he knew the intruder had been acting under orders. The man obviously worked for Lee. So Calvin took a deep breath and tried to stop the roaring in his head. Though Lily hadn’t fainted, he could tell by her ghostly pallor that she was scared. Seeing Calvin covered in blood undoubtedly didn’t help.

  “I don’t understand,” Lily said. “This man wanted to kill me? Why?”

  Davies’s gaze narrowed on Calvin with a mixture of both anger and confusion. “Yes, Cabot. Why would this man be here, trying to hurt my sister?”

  Calvin wasn’t about to enlighten him. As far as Davies was aware, Lee believed his daughter’s disappearance had nothing to do with anyone in this room.

  “I don’t know,” Calvin lied, shaking his throbbing hand and avoiding two pairs of shrewd eyes. “But you can bet I’ll find out.”

  Hugo charged into the room, out of breath. He frowned at the man on the ground and then at Calvin. “You hurt?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Calvin told him. “The Pinkerton?”

  Hugo shook his head, and Calvin muttered a Cantonese curse word while dragging his hands through his hair. Once again he’d underestimated Lee.

  “Wait, Pinkerton? What are you talking about?” Davies rose out of the chair and stalked toward Calvin.

  Calvin was watching Lily, however, who’d begun to shake, her eyes never leaving the man on the ground. “Damn it,” Calvin said. Two steps brought him to her side and he wrapped his arms around her, blocking her view of the intruder. “Davies, get your sister some brandy.”

  “I’m all right,” she said against his shirtfront, her body trembling. “I am not the type of woman to fall apart at a . . . at a . . .”

  Calvin kissed the top of her head and held her tighter. “No one said you were, sweetheart. But humor me and drink some brandy, will you?”

  “You have blood all over you,” she whispered, her hands clutching at his hips. “I was so worried and I couldn’t see what was happening.”

  Christ, this concern was for him? The woman was far more than he ever deserved, and another wave of guilt rolled through him. He did not want to hurt her; he wanted to fold her up in his arms and protect her. Burying his nose in her hair, he breathed in her sweet feminine scent. “I’m fine,” he said quietly. “I promise.”

  “Calvin,” Hugo said, his tone urgent.

  Calvin glanced over his shoulder and saw the man on the ground beginning to stir. “Tie him up,” he told Hugo. “Use the curtain ties. We’ll drop him off on the way.”

  Davies appeared with a crystal glass of brandy. He peeled Lily away from Calvin and led her to a nearby chair. When she was settled with the liquor, Davies caught Calvin’s eye and jerked his head in the direction of the dressing room. Resigned, Calvin went inside, Davies on his heels, and then shut the door.

  Davies crossed his arms over his chest. “Pinkerton? What the hell is that about, Cabot?”

  “I hired someone to watch over her. Just in case.”

  “In case what? You said normal routines, nothing to make Lee suspicious.”

  “Well, obviously Lee became suspicious. He doesn’t always tell me what he’s thinking.”

  “You think this is a joke?” He snatched Calvin’s shirtfront in a tight grip, shaking him a few times. “My sister could have been killed!”

  Calvin applied pressure to a specific nerve in Davies’s wrist, and the younger man’s fingers opened to release the fabric. Davies yelped in pain and cradled his arm against his body, his expression confused. “Why does a newspaper publisher know how to do that?”

  “Step back,” Calvin snarled instead of answering. “I’m well aware of what happened and I am taking it seriously. Any more seriously and that man in the other room would be dead.”

  Davies chewed on that a moment. “Why were you here tonight, in her room?”

  “None of your goddamn business.”

  “It’s my house!” Davies shouted. “And she’s my sister. That makes it my business. I told you to stay away from her.”

  Calvin bit back his angry retort, clamping his jaw shut. Arguing with Davies would accomplish nothing, and Calvin had no good reason for his presence here tonigh
t, other than jealousy. The news of Fields’s impending proposal had festered inside Calvin all day, like a wound turning septic, until he had to see her. Had to try to talk her out of it.

  “It’s because of Fields and what I told you earlier today. That’s why you came to see her, and that man in there followed you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. No one saw me enter the house. He wasn’t following me—and lest you forget, it’s your fault Lily was dragged into this in the first place.”

  The door opened and Lily appeared, her beautiful face wan and tired. “Perhaps your argument can wait until after the man bleeding on my carpets has been dealt with?”

  Calvin exhaled and hung his head. Of course she was right. What had he been thinking, allowing Davies to goad him into answers right now? He pushed past Davies and reentered the bedroom. The intruder had been tied up and was now facedown on the carpet with his hands behind his back.

  Calvin knelt at the man’s side. “Tell me why he sent you. To kill her?” he asked in Cantonese.

  The man didn’t answer, so Calvin chuckled. “You think you are protecting him, but you are not. And he will kill you for failing here tonight.”

  The man swallowed, the only outward sign that he heard Calvin’s words, yet he remained mute.

  Calvin quickly donned his frock coat and boots, which he’d discarded when he’d first arrived. Lily and her brother stood in the doorway, Davies’s arm around her slim shoulders. Her color had returned and she no longer appeared on the verge of hysteria. She’d be fine. Lillian Davies was the strongest woman he’d ever met.

  He swung toward Hugo. “Let’s go.”

  When they finally had the intruder secured in the carriage, Calvin jerked his thumb in the direction of the interior. “Sit in there,” he told Hugo. “If I look at him, I might kill him. I’ll sit with the driver.”

  “What are we going to do with him?”

  “Drop him at Lee’s.”

  Hugo frowned, his gaze bouncing between the man in the carriage and Calvin. “I don’t think that’s wise. You’re awful excitable right now, and the last thing you want is for Lee to see how much she means to you.”