Unforgettable

by Delaney Diamond

  “I have a feeling he’s going to start racking up even more frequent flyer miles.”

  Ivy nodded. She’d offered once to send their private jet to pick him up—even if it was only for one night—but he’d balked at the idea.

  “You’re not sending your jet to pick me up like I’m your boy toy,” he said, his expression making it clear that he thought she was crazy for suggesting it.

  “But it would be more convenient for you, and I don’t mind,” she insisted. “What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is, I’m a man, and I’m not having my woman send a plane to pick me up like I’m a piece of tail. No, thanks. I’ll catch my own flights and I’ll come when I can.”

  She’d been disappointed by his response, but Lucas lived by his own set of man rules, and she’d have to adjust. She did, however, toy with the idea of flying to him. Maybe she could surprise him one night. Or one weekend when he couldn’t get away, she and Katie could fly down and visit him in Georgia.

  “Just a reminder that I’m leaving early for my doctor’s appointment,” Cynthia said on her way out the door. “I ordered your lunch and they’re bringing it up at noon. I’ll have Abigail bring it back for you.”

  Ivy waved her acknowledgement and went back to work. With Cynthia gone, the staff had strict instructions not to disturb her. She had a mountain of tasks to get done, which was much harder with thoughts of Lucas running around in her head.

  ****

  Ivy reviewed the numbers for the fifth time. She wasn’t getting anywhere. She turned to the window and tried to force her thoughts in order.

  With a bang that made her jump, Abigail from reception burst into her office. Abigail never left her post and never burst in anywhere. The wild expression on her face forced Ivy to her feet.

  “What is it?”

  “Ms. Johnson, I’m so sorry. The phone’s been ringing off the hook. Katie’s school called.”

  Fear twisted in Ivy’s belly, and she placed her hands on the desk to keep the influx of sheer panic from knocking her to her knees.

  “What happened?”

  “Reporters, ma’am. The administration said they’ve been calling the school, and they’ve been calling here, too. They have questions about Lucas Baylor and want to know if it’s true that he’s Katie’s biological father.”

  Once she recovered from the initial shock of Abigail’s words, Ivy catapulted into action. She had to get to her daughter. If the press already knew where she went to school, it was only a matter of time before they showed up there.

  “Call my driver and tell him to meet me in executive parking,” she said, grabbing her purse. She hustled down the hallway with Abigail hot on her tail. “Tell my brothers what’s going on.”

  By the time she took the executive elevator downstairs, Lloyd was already waiting for her. On the ride to the school, she started nibbling on the nail of her index finger and then stopped. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d bitten her nails.

  Yes, she could. In school, after “the incident.”

  “Hurry,” she murmured to herself. It never failed that when she was in a hurry, the traffic crawled along at a turtle’s pace.

  The car climbed the hill toward the front of the school and she stared out the window in distraction. A few children chased each other on the grass, and others sat bent over books, getting in their homework as they waited for their parents’ arrival.

  “Ma’am.”

  She looked up at the edge in Lloyd’s voice and saw what he did. Sitting forward, she stared in disbelief. A news van was parked nearby and reporters were stationed at the front of the school, right outside the main building. Paparazzi and cameramen rounded out the group. The principal argued with them, waving her arms wildly in an effort to get them off the property, but they showed no indication they planned to leave.

  Ivy’s heart plummeted. “No,” she whispered. No way she could sneak Katie past that group. Not through the front, anyway. Maybe she could through the back, but how would she get the message to her daughter?

  Children poured out of the main building, their faces bright with excitement at the end of the school day. She caught sight of Katie in the middle of two of her friends, the smallest of the three of them. She looked so fragile and innocent in that moment. Whatever they were discussing was very funny, because the girls were huddled in a tight group, giggling at their childish jokes.

  Maybe they won’t know who she is, Ivy thought desperately, her heart thumping restlessly, her body burning up with fear.

  No such luck. One of the reporters spotted her right away, and they all rushed forward like a flock of geese following their leader. They yelled her name, cameras flashing, microphones extended. Katie and her friends froze.

  “Katie!” Ivy screamed.

  Seized by panic, Ivy fumbled for the door handle, desperate to get to her little girl and protect her from the mob that descended on her.

  “Ma’am!” Lloyd’s voice cracked as sharp as a whip, snapping her out of her frantic state. “Stay here.” He spoke calmly but firmly.

  She knew she should let him do his job, but it took a grand effort to remain still.

  “Hurry!” she said, but he was already exiting the car. She lost sight of him as he barreled through the horde of reporters.

  She felt sick to her stomach, in the same way she’d felt fourteen years ago. Only this time the nausea was much worse and coupled with the wrenching pain of helplessness. Because they were attacking the best part of her—her innocent daughter.

  Only seconds passed, but the length of time seemed longer as she waited. Then the throng turned in her direction when Lloyd reappeared, holding Katie with one arm and her book bag in his hand. Her daughter hid her face in his chest, her shoulders folded as she clung tight to his neck.

  Ivy pushed open the door and a barrage of questions accosted her.

  “Ms. Johnson, who is Lucas Baylor?”

  “Ms. Johnson, who is Katie’s father?”

  The second Lloyd deposited Katie into her arms, he slammed the door shut.

  Cameras flashed and illuminated the interior of the vehicle, despite the tinted windows. Ivy crushed her daughter in her arms and turned her back to the mob.

  “Mommy, Mommy, they’re trying to kill me,” Katie sobbed.

  “No baby, they’re not trying to kill you. It’s okay. It’s okay.” Ivy cupped her head and rubbed her back.

  The driver door slammed and her eyes met Lloyd’s in the rear view mirror.

  “Hang on.” He honked the horn once and hit the accelerator. He didn’t bother to wait for the reporters to move out of the way. He seemed intent on running over them like bowling pins, but they wisely scattered.

  On Ivy’s lap, Katie’s small body trembled like someone with muscle spasms. Her daughter’s tears wet her neck.

  “What did I do?” Katie cried.

  “Shh,” Ivy whispered, holding her tighter. “You didn’t do anything, munchkin.” She kissed her damp cheek and rocked her. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  ****

  After the afternoon’s chaos, the silence in the condo was golden. Ivy had turned the lights down low and left the room with only a faint yellow glow from the ones in the buildings on the other side of the window. She had been sitting in the near darkness for a long time with the phones turned off, just thinking.

  Her daughter straddled her lap and lay asleep against her chest, breathing evenly. It had taken a solid two hours of constant reassurances to convince Katie no one wanted to hurt her and they had only yelled at her because they wanted her attention—not because they were mad.

  She looked up at a knock on the door and right after, it clicked open. Cyrus appeared first with Trenton right behind him. They both wore unbuttoned dark trenches over their suits. Their footfalls touched quietly on the hardwood.

  Cyrus looked down at her and Katie, silently observant. “How is she?” he asked after a moment.

  “Could be bette
r.” Ivy tried to smile, but she couldn’t, and neither of her brothers looked in the mood to smile anyway.

  Cyrus heaved a sigh. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you have to consider…” He trailed off when she glared at him. She knew where he was going before he said the words. “I know you don’t want to think your boyfriend did this, but you can’t ignore the coincidence of the story coming out not long after your involvement with him started. I’ve already done some digging and found out someone sold the story about Katie’s paternity, which has opened up questions about Winston’s sexuality again. Senator Somerset and his wife have been hounded by the press. This person, whoever they are, sold pictures from Lucas and Katie’s date night.”

  “You have absolutely no reason to think it’s Lucas. One of the parents from the dance could have done it.”

  “Ivy,” Cyrus said patiently, “his name and image are all over the news and they’re talking about his book. It’s great publicity for him. Don’t let your feelings for him cloud your judgment.” The unspoken word “again” hung heavy in the air. “You have to recognize—”

  “No!” Ivy said. Katie stirred in her arms and Ivy stroked her back to settle her down. She lowered her voice. “No. He wouldn’t go to the tabloids. He wouldn’t do that to Katie. He wouldn’t do that to us.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Trenton said. He wasn’t as cynical as Cyrus, but he obviously had doubts about Lucas, too.

  “If that’s why the two of you came, you can leave now.”

  “We came because Mother sent us to get you,” Cyrus said.

  She understood why her mother had sent for them. They would be better off at the family mansion, securely locked away behind the gate. It was only a matter of time before reporters showed up at the hotel, pretending to be guests in the lobby or lurking in their cars in the underground parking garage, waiting to pounce at the sight of her and her daughter.

  “Trent,” Cyrus said, his voice indicating he was in command mode, “get in touch with Four Seasons management and find out the best way for us to get out of here. Take your Range Rover to whatever entrance they suggest. I don’t want to take any chances going out the normal exits. They may have found Ivy’s residence by now and could be lying in wait. Tell Mother we’ve got Ivy and Katie and will be there in less than an hour.”

  “I’m on it.” Trenton walked out with the phone to his ear.

  Cyrus looked at her. “Whoever did this,” he said cautiously, “we’re going to make them pay.”

  She wanted the guilty party to pay, too. They’d shared photos of her child and exposed her to the world long before Ivy was ready for her to be a public figure. Kids should be off limits, but in today’s media culture, that was no longer the case. Paparazzi followed children of celebrities and other notable people all the time. She didn’t want that for Katie. The time would soon come when her every action would be under a microscope, and they’d have to train her on how to handle the media. But it wasn’t time yet.

  She gnawed her bottom lip and reflected on Cyrus’s words. Had she been wrong about Lucas? Could she have fallen for another ruse that exposed her, her family, and even the Somersets to unwanted scrutiny? What person would do this to them? Her thoughts shied away from Lucas being the guilty party.

  “We didn’t exactly try to hide Lucas and Katie’s relationship, and everything that’s been said—for the most part—is true.” Her gaze met her brother’s. “Just find out who sold the story.” And please don’t let it be Lucas.

  “I will.” Cyrus sat down beside her. “We need to get the two of you out of here. I’ll take her. Get together your clothes and everything you’ll both need.”

  Katie protested mildly as they shifted her from one lap to the other, but she quickly settled down in her uncle’s arms.

  Ivy paused on her way out of the room. “Did Mother say how long she wanted us to stay?”

  Cyrus glanced at her. “As long as you need to.”

  ****

  “Come on, answer the phone. Answer the phone.”

  The call went to Ivy’s voice mail, and Lucas hung up in frustration. He let out an angry yell and almost crushed the device in his fury. He missed the days when he could slam a phone into its cradle.

  He’d lost track of how many times he’d called Ivy, and she hadn’t answered yet. He figured she had her phone turned off to avoid unwanted calls, but he worried she might think he had something to do with the story that broke.

  He dropped into the chair at the desk in his hotel room and stared in frustration at the computer screen. The travel options to Seattle were depressing. With no available outgoing flights until tomorrow afternoon, he was about ready to swim from Hawaii to the mainland.

  The phone rang and he almost jumped out of his skin. He lunged for it where it lay on a side table, but it wasn’t Ivy. It was Brenda. She’d texted him earlier today when the news hit.

  “Well?” he asked. He’d charged her with getting him out of his obligation at the resort.

  “Lucas, they’re not happy about this, particularly in light of what’s recently happened.”

  The hosts wanted him to stay put at the resort and finish the week with the other speakers. The scandal about him and the heiress to the Johnson fortune made him an overnight celebrity, and having him at the week long couple’s retreat had turned out to be an unexpected coup they wanted to milk for publicity.

  “I don’t care, Brenda.”

  He suspected she wasn’t working as hard as she could. When she’d called him, she’d been way too excited about the press coverage and told him that bad publicity was better than no publicity at all. To which he’d replied she only said that because it wasn’t her life, and by the way, she was out of her damn mind.

  “At least consider waiting until the end of the week,” Brenda said. “You can talk to Ivy and Katie on the phone, can’t you?”

  “She won’t answer the phone,” Lucas explained with barely contained impatience. He didn’t go into further detail about his concern that Ivy might think he had something to do with the leak. “And frankly, I don’t want to be here while they’re going through this mess.”

  He couldn’t get the picture of Ivy’s driver, Lloyd, carrying his daughter through a throng of reporters and photographers out of his head. It made him sick to his stomach and it made him angry. She was just a kid. What was wrong with those people?

  “I’ll do the best I can,” Brenda said. “But—”

  “No buts, Brenda. Figure it out. You’ve done it before. Whether you get me out of this or not, I’m on a flight to Seattle tomorrow. I need to get to my daughter and my w—” He’d almost said wife, because that’s how he thought of her now—with permanence, part of his future. Katie was his daughter, Ivy was his wife, they were his family.

  “I need to get to my daughter and her mother,” he said. “I need them to know that I didn’t have any part in this, and I’m not some asshole who used them for publicity and violated their trust. That’s not me. I’m not that guy. My job is to protect them and keep them safe. Because I’m a goddamn dragon slayer.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Numb, Ivy sat in her mother’s sitting room listening to the family spokesperson, Hudson Lynch, run through scenarios. Hudson paced as his assistant took notes, and her mother nodded or shook her head depending on her agreement or disagreement with his ideas.

  More details about her relationship with Winston had trickled into the media overnight. They liberally bandied about words such as “Full Moon cover up.” One of Winston’s exes had already surfaced to corroborate the rumors that Ivy and Winston had had a fake marriage. Some journalists even charged them with making a mockery of marriage.

  Out on the campaign trail, reporters questioned Senator Somerset’s integrity. Opponents on the left and right pointed out his hypocrisy and called for him to refrain from running for office. According to them, if he could force his son into a fake marriage to win an election, what wouldn’t he d
o?

  “Ivy?” Her gaze shifted to her mother, whose eyes were filled with concern. “What do you think?”

  “I’m sorry, Mother, I wasn’t paying attention,” she admitted. She made a decision right then, based on an idea that had taken root in her mind. She addressed Hudson. “I’m glad you’re here, but I don’t want to do a press release or send out a finely crafted message to your media contacts. I want to face the press myself.”

  “With all due respect, Ms. Johnson, you should let us handle this.” Hudson looked at Ivy’s mother for concurrence.

  “They’re going to try to rip you to shreds, dear.” Constance looked her steadily in the eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “They’ve already started,” Hudson said. “Some of the headlines make reference to what happened fourteen years ago. The name-calling, it’s—it’s not pretty…” His voice trailed off politely rather than repeat the headlines.

  Not that Ivy hadn’t seen them herself. She knew the names they called her and that made her more determined than ever to face her detractors.

  She kept her eyes on her mother, because she, more than anyone, had to be convinced. “Mother, I can handle it.”

  “I don’t advise—”

  Constance lifted her hand and Hudson fell silent. “What were you thinking?” she asked Ivy.

  “A press conference,” Ivy answered. The thought had come to her out of the blue. “Where I could explain what happened—just enough details to satisfy their curiosity, but more than that. I want to look them in the eyes and tell them to leave my daughter alone. That’s the most important part. I don’t want them hounding her.”

  Constance took her hand and squeezed it between her thinner fingers. “I believe you’re doing the right thing. The more you hide, the more they’ll seek their own truth. You have to be the one to craft the message.” She turned to Hudson. “You heard my daughter. She’s going to speak for herself. Draft a statement right away for her approval.”

  Hudson didn’t look pleased and opened his mouth to speak again, but the sound of raised voices at the front of the house interrupted him. Ivy’s heart tripped over the next beat. One of those voices sounded like Lucas.