Heiress vs Rockstar (Love in Illyria Book 4)

by Adalind White

  "Let's not argue about that," he said. " Hoffmann wrote on his blog that he discovered a vineyard in Spain that is every bit as good as our Southern wines, and I wanted us to try them."

  He poured the wine in their glasses. The aroma wafted tantalizing as soon as she picked up her glass. Her lips hovered over the rim, savoring the scent of wood and berries. The taste didn't disappoint either.

  "He's not wrong," she said. "This is almost as good as the Southerns."

  Christian covered her hand with his. His palm was warm and dry and it made her feel that everything was going to work out fine while he was holding her hand. Unshed tears stung her eyes.

  "Alice," he said looking deeply into her eyes. "I want you to be happy."

  She held her breath, willing the tears not to roll down her cheeks. She cared for Christian, but she did not love him. There was no reason to cry, except the guilt that gnawed at her like woodworms eating away under the surface.

  He could have made her happy. Leonie had it right. Trust and common interests were a solid basis for a relationship. They could have been so good together. Maybe she could still fix this. Maybe she could beg Tim to take it back. She could crawl back into the shadows.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Alice

  Andrew told her that she didn't have to come to Sing for the rest of the week. The paparazzi had showed up in Salona but the college security had made sure they didn't get close to the classrooms. Vy had been by her side and shielded her as best she could, but the pressure was adding up. She couldn't escape the comments on social media and on gossip shows on TV.

  Of course everyone brought up Maison Pellerin. The illustrious fashion house had been founded by one of her grandmothers and had been represented in the media by her other grandmother. They talked about her mother's career as a supermodel glossing over her scientific discoveries in her career as an archeologist. Whenever they put on the screen photos of all four of them, even if they chose a flattering picture of hers, she was by far the ugliest of them.

  The people who discussed the subject on TV only made veiled references to this, but the social media was not as kind. Every post she read compared her not only to the three beautiful women in her own family, but with all the women ever linked with TC, without caring if he'd been with them or not. Most of all, they compared her unkindly with the two gorgeous women who had been TC's most famous affairs: Alba Richmond-Orsay, now Alba Sinclair, and Isabella Peters.

  She made it through her classes in a daze. For once she could be in school for a whole week without cutting classes, and she couldn't focus.

  The lowest point of her week was when she had called Will to tell him she couldn't visit. She hated herself for it, but she didn't want anyone to know about her work at Stratford. It meant too much to her to let the media get a whiff of it.

  On Friday evening, she gave Vy the keys to her Mini, not trusting herself to drive on the high-speed motorway from Salona to Orsino.

  Vy stopped the car in front of the gate, and Alice buzzed the intercom. Her parents didn't answer and she was trying to remember the code when Vy took off.

  "Hey, where are you going?" she asked. "I was going to remember it eventually."

  "I'm taking you to our place," Vy said.

  "But-" she tried to protest.

  Vy interrupted her.

  "Your parents aren't home and I'm not letting you be on your own."

  Her parents might have mentioned something about going on an expedition. She tried to recall her last conversation with her mother. The word Peru might have come up. And possibly pyramids.

  She got out of the car numbly when Vy pulled over in the Cesaras' driveway. Her friend didn't realize that forcing her to be among other people meant that she had to wear a mask. Even if they were people who cared about her.

  Adeline hugged her as soon as he saw her. She had become close with Vy's mother since Vy had moved out, but not even Adeline's affection helped her feel better.

  Vy took their things up to her room. Alice tried to muster some enthusiasm for the unexpected slumber party.

  "Dinner is almost ready," Adeline said. "Alice, be a dear and get Paul. He's in his office, with the door closed."

  She smiled and nodded. Since they were children, they knew that they could do anything they wanted in the house if the thick door to Paul Cesara's office was closed.

  "You're sure that he wants to come out, right?" she asked.

  Adeline rolled her eyes in a gesture eerily similar to Vy. Her heart lurched. These people were her friends. What kind of monster wouldn't want to be surrounded by friends?

  "Of course he wants to come out for dinner with the family."

  The warmth in Adeline's eyes reached through the numbness. More than friends. They were family.

  She went to the other side of the house, and stopped in front of the oak paneled door. Paul Cesara was the only person she had known for a long time and never been able to read well.

  He used to be kind to her in an indifferent sort of way while she was Vy's friend. His indifference seemed to have turned to frostiness when Vy left home. He had not thawed, not even when Adeline embraced their daughter's choice. But lately, when they started meeting at social events, he had warmed up considerably. Leonie must have shared her promise with him. He had lost Vy as a pawn, and now he had her instead. After all, the ultimate decision about butting out of Vy's life must have been Paul's, not Leonie's.

  She knocked and opened the door slowly when he answered. As children, they rarely went into Paul's office. As teenagers, they spent most of their time in the garage with their band, practicing.

  "Alice," he said, standing up when he saw her. "So good to see you."

  "It's always nice to be here," she said, not daring to use his first name, despite his express permission a month earlier. "Adeline asked me to tell you we're about to have dinner."

  "Come in," Paul said. "Have a seat."

  She hesitated. Her head jerked imperceptibly toward the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn't eaten anything since before they had classes that morning.

  "Please," Paul said, sitting back down in his chair. "It's about time you and I talked."

  She closed the door quietly behind herself. She could imagine the topic of conversation and she wouldn't want the others to hear any of it.

  Paul pushed a pack of cigarettes across the desk. She took one out, and leaned in to light it from the ornate lighter he held out for her.

  "Thank you," she said, and drew on the cigarette. "I can't remember the last time I smoked indoors."

  They weren't her brand, but they helped. Her heartbeat slowed down and her muscles softened.

  "It's an unpopular vice. You might have to give it up when you run for Senate."

  Direct to the point. Not a strategy Paul Cesara employed with many people.

  "You're part of my family, Alice," he said. "I never doubted you would be the one to hold public office."

  "I thought Vy was the designated leader," she said.

  Paul let out a small sigh.

  "She is the perfect Illyrian leader, but it's not the right time for her."

  She raised an eyebrow, surprised, but his words lifted a veil in her mind.

  "Vy would be a great leader in a war situation."

  "You've always been a quick thinker. Viola would rally the country behind her in times of war. The current climate asks for someone who can outthink and outwait the enemies. In ten, fifteen years, you will be a great Senator. Depending on how the society evolves, maybe you will be a great President."

  She blinked rapidly to steady herself. The conversation with Leonie prepared her for a life of public service in the role of a savvy politician's wife. She'd been thinking once or twice about living in Felician Palace as First Lady. But President?

  "You never talked to me before," she said. "Not about politics. Not about my aspirations. How can you be so sure?"

  "Do you think you're the only one who can read people?
How much do you need to talk to someone in person to get more information about them than their best friends don't know."

  "I don't want to run for office."

  Paul pressed a button on the remote control and the screen on the wall came to life. He muted the TV, and judging by the scrolling text at the bottom, the pundits were talking about the proposed changes to the Illyrian financial legislation, but she got the drift.

  "He lied," she said. "We don't have a romantic relationship. I don't plan to run for office. He... lied."

  "It was publicly announced," Paul said patiently, with a trace of pity in his tone. "It's part of the truth now."

  "Didn't you see the backlash of his announcement?" she asked. "They hate me. He made sure of that."

  "At the moment, you have a capital of publicity-"

  "Notoriety," she corrected him.

  "-that would guarantee you a seat in the Lower Chamber if the elections were tomorrow," Paul said ignoring her interruption.

  "Because all publicity is good publicity?"

  "Because you are Alice Lewis, the granddaughter of Clara Pellerin and the daughter of professor Gregory Lewis. You belong to one of the most prestigious families in this country."

  She opened her mouth to argue this truth, but he added.

  "And Tim Carter is in love with you."

  "He's not!"

  "In the eyes of the public, he is. And he's stubborn enough to keep up the pretense even if you ask him to stop. Which I advise against, by the way."

  She flushed. That was exactly her plan of action. She was going to beg Tim to put an end to this charade. As soon as she could stop trembling at the mere thought of talking to him, that was what she planned to do.

  "You're too young now, anyway. The seat will be yours to take in four years."

  "Paul, I don't want this."

  He smiled ruefully. His sea green eyes showed an unexpected compassion. His eyes resembled Vy's for a moment.

  "You don't have a choice any more, Alice."

  She shook her head dejectedly. When had she really had a choice about her life?

  "May I ask you something personal?"

  She started. A personal question from a man who had known her since she was a child was bound to be uncomfortable. She squared her shoulders and nodded.

  "You know Carter better than anyone else. You always saw him more clearly than Viola. Why didn't you see this move?"

  "He's insane," she said. "This, this stupid thing was an unreasonable action. It doesn't offer him any advantage."

  He steepled his fingers, and looked into the middle distance for a while. Alice waited, wishing she could be inside Paul's mind, to see the wheels turning into the Kingmaker's brain.

  "The separation from Miss Peters wasn't as agreeable as he tried to make it seem in his interview. He's trying to hurt you. I assume that right now, that's the only pleasure he has in life."

  He wasn't blaming her or excusing her. He wasn't judging her in any way. Maybe he could help her figure out how to get out of this mess. Even if he seemed to like the idea of her running for office.

  "He could have hurt me in so many other ways," she said. "I... I can't understand why he chose this... this... "

  "Some people prefer to have a personal involvement when they exact their vengeance. You and I would hire someone, but Carter..."

  Right. If she would ever want to get revenge, she'd use a cat's paw. Carter would rather be the one to wring her neck with his own hands. Othello style.

  "Alice, if you need advice, you can always count on me. Always."

  She nodded, and let out a deep breath. How different her life might have been if she had a parent as attentive to her as Paul.

  "Thank you. I hope you don't mind I'm not taking your first advice. I will try to talk to him. I might make it worse by showing him how much I don't want to be in this situation, but I have to try."

  Maybe a shred of the empathy TC had felt for her still remained.

  "You will be a good leader," he said. "Advice, even from trusted counselors, is simply advice. Any decision, ultimately, is yours. Let's go to dinner now, or we might have to deal with a rebellion."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Tim

  Paul "the Kingmaker" Cesara was in his control room. That promised to be interesting.

  "Aren't you worried that Vy might be here?" he asked. "She wouldn't like you threatening me."

  "She is in Viaverde. I lent her my car yesterday."

  "You're so generous now that she got back with the program. A year late, but she's enrolled in Salona, where you wanted her to be."

  "Mr. Carter, you know I'm not here to talk about Viola."

  "No. You're here because of the other one. It's interesting how you didn't do a damn thing when Vy left the nest, but here you are, in person, defending little miss Lewis's honor."

  "If you think Alice Lewis needs anyone to defend her, you're still blind."

  The words burned. Still blind. He had to have been blind to get taken in by her manipulations. He finally saw clearly. In fact, he saw clearly enough to worry that the little monster could retaliate. His actions had hurt her deeply. Her fear of the limelight was probably the only true side of herself she had shown him.

  Bad publicity was just the sort of thing someone like Paul Cesara might want to avoid no matter what he said. Whatever it was, he would enjoy a private viewing of the puppet master's skills.

  "You're not here to tell me to leave her alone? I am all ears."

  Paul sat down casually on the same chair Vy always chose. He pursed his lips in a tight smile, as if he was refraining from grinning.

  "On the contrary, Mr. Carter. I'm here to thank you."

  "Go on," Tim said, leaning back in his chair pretending to relax. "Make it good."

  Every muscle in his body tensed, as if he expected a physical blow. Paul was certainly not going to tell him the truth and it would be a challenge to figure out what was vaguely true and what was the complete opposite.

  "My plan to get Alice to run for office was painfully convoluted and so long term that I started to doubt I had the patience to see it through. And there you are, doing all the hard work in fifteen minutes of prime time."

  A chill ran down his spine. Had he really been an unwitting pawn in the Kingmaker's plan?

  "Of course, this could be my blatant attempt of reverse psychology," Paul said.

  Tim's lips twitched but he was able to cover the snarl rising from his depths. The bitter bile drowning him made everything else seem unimportant. His hatred for Alice was red hot and even the possibility that he had played Paul's game didn't matter.

  "I don't care," he said. "I will not stop. Not until I can think of something worse I can do to her."

  Paul looked down at his perfectly manicured hands. He took in a deep breath. The next words came with difficulty. How good of an actor was he? He should have watched Paul Cesara more over the years.

  "As a father, I know how hard it is to be cut out of your child's life. It's hard when they're grown up. You must be in hell now."

  He looked up, locking his cold gaze to Carter's when he spoke.

  "But don't fool yourself. The only reason you get to do this to Alice, is because she has to understand the consequences of her actions. You are nothing to me. You are a lesson she has to learn."

  He held a hand up, stopping Tim's reply.

  "I know you're not afraid of me. I know you won't stop. I'm not asking you to stop."

  He stood up and the look in his eyes grew a thousandth of a degree warmer.

  "You're still young, Mr. Carter," Paul said. "She is the first person you truly hated in your life, and just like the first love, the first hatred seems to be the last. It will pass. It will fade. This situation will give you powerful songs, and amazing performances on the stage. You may not believe it, but one day, this will be a memory."

  "Did you come here to philosophize at me?" he asked annoyed.

  "No. I came to estimate yo
ur cooling period."

  Tim clenched his fists.

  "What's your estimation?"

  "Longer than it's healthy for you," Paul answered.

  "What the fuck does that mean?"

  Paul shook his head. "Any advice from me would cause you to do the reverse. Maybe one day we can be friends," he said, extending his hand for Tim to shake. "You could be so useful."

  When Tim didn't take his hand, Paul his own hand fall at his side.

  The door closed behind Paul Cesara, leaving Tim alone with his thoughts.

  His cell phone vibrated annoyingly for a long time. He expected one call that day, and he did not want to take it. He wanted to ignore for a while longer the results of the test. His doctor had warned him about the risk of recurrence. When the symptoms reappeared, he tried to make peace with the fact that he might have to lose his voice or his life.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Alice

  The anemic November sun didn't do much to brighten up the large hallway shared by the three music rooms despite the generous windows. On the dimness of that autumn morning, Alice stopped in front of his Music Room, with a cup of coffee from Zebrino in each clammy hand. She stacked them one on top of the other and watched them shake in her trembling hands.

  She closed her eyes, and took in a deep breath before knocking. The blood roaring in her ears covered the potential answer from inside the room. She cracked open the door. The sound of a melody she didn't recognize came through.

  The music stopped when she stepped inside.

  "Good morning," she said.

  "Look who came back to work," Tim said, not standing up from the piano.

  She plodded across the length of the room, painfully aware of his cruel gaze on her. Her cheeks burned.

  "Coffee?" she asked, offering him a cup.

  He took a moment too long to accept it making her uncomfortable. She tried to steady her fast breathing. What was the point of not showing weakness any more? He wanted to see her weak. Broken. Maybe if she gave it to him, he would stop.