by Julia Harlow
Isabel studied the evening bag. It complemented the gown perfectly. “I don’t have any idea. Half that?”
“Try ninety dollars. Consider it an early birthday present from me.”
“You know that’s not going to happen, Ells. But I do love it, and I can afford ninety dollars.”
“You are one maddeningly stubborn woman.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that.”
“Now shoes. Hurry up. All these morons in here are on my last nerve.”
~~~
Ellen insisted on doing both Isabel’s hair and makeup. They’d agreed a chignon suited the gown best; an up style would show the portrait collar to the best advantage and accentuate the elegant style of the gown. While Ellen styled the chignon, Isabel, still wearing the melon knee-length robe she’d put on after her shower, felt her stomach begin to churn and her palms turn clammy. Was she ready for this night with Ty’s colleagues? Was she going to be completely out of her element?
“Okay, what’s wrong?” Ellen snapped, the comb in her hand stopping mid-air.
“Who said anything’s wrong?”
“You’re pasty white and wringing your hands; that is when you’re not gripping your stomach. So, tell me what’s wrong!”
“Not sure I’m ready for a high-finance social event with Ty’s colleagues,” Isabel reluctantly replied.
“Why the hell not? Stop putting yourself down this second! Didn’t my sisters and I do enough of that when we were younger? Get over it. You’re a tech whiz with a fantastic job, you’re beautiful, you graduated at the top of your class, and you know how to train attack dogs.”
“Pilot is not an attack dog.”
Ellen twirled up the final strand of Isabel’s silky dark hair, pinning it at the side. “Your dog would attack anyone who tried to harm you. But that’s beside the point. Seriously, don’t you think you’re worthy of Ty Griffin?”
Isabel contemplated the question while admiring Ellen’s artistic touch. The way her hair and makeup looked, she felt as if she were gazing at someone else, a beauty queen with her hair in this wondrous, knotted affair pulled to one side of her neck, a few loose strands accentuating her high cheekbones. Ellen had been a tad heavy-handed on the makeup, especially around her eyes. But Isabel had to admit she did look dramatic, no doubt exactly what was called for this evening.
“Honestly, I don’t. Even with all the fancy trappings tonight, I still feel fat and ugly. Most of the time, I don’t even look in the mirror. When I do, I see my ten-year-old self: overweight, big nose, too much unruly dark hair, and features out of scale with my face.”
Ellen shook her head but didn’t assail her as Isabel had expected. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Isabel from behind. When she finally spoke, her voice was choked. “It’s my fault, isn’t it? Mine and Susan’s and Bitsy’s. I’m so sorry for what we put you through, Bells. I never realized until this moment the real damage that we wrought. Can you ever forgive me?”
One name was missing from Ellen’s list, the name associated with the most egregious damage to her and to his daughters. Should she tell Ellen or just let it go? She decided on the latter. “I forgave you a long time ago, Ells.”
Ellen helped her into the pale gold confection. They’d argued earlier about shoes. Because whatever shoes she wore would barely show due to the gown’s length, Isabel had insisted on purchasing an inexpensive pair of gold heels that blended with the color of the gown. And since she’d already spent a fortune today, she declared that at least one pair of whatever earrings she and Ellen owned between them, would work. Ellen didn’t take either decision well.
While Isabel glanced at the time on her cell phone—six twenty-five—Ellen took her sweet time sorting through both of their caches of earrings.
“I’m leaving,” Isabel snapped. “To hell with earrings! No one will be looking at me anyway!” She grabbed her new clutch and headed to the front door of the loft, absolutely determined not to be late.
Ellen caught up with her right before she reached the door. “Hold on. Stop all the theatrics and try these, Miss Drama Queen.” She dangled a pair of large spun gold chandeliers in front of Isabel. They worked perfectly with the dress, of course. Isabel finished attaching them to her ears just as the doorbell rang. Queenie’s high-pitched yipping broke the silence. Pilot rolled his eyes.
Ellen grabbed Queenie while Isabel swung open the door. It seemed as though several moments of dead silence followed while Isabel and Ty stared at one another. Ty finally strode inside and spoke.
“My God, Isabel, just when I think you couldn’t be any more gorgeous, you look like a goddess.” His eyes slowly meandered over every inch of her from head to toe. “Now I’m going to have to hire armed guards to fight off the hordes of men after you tonight.”
Isabel sucked in a breath at the sight of him. “You don’t look too bad yourself, Mr. Griffin. I may have to fight off hordes of women tonight. And men.” Ty wore a traditional black tux; if she had to guess by the quality of the fabric and custom fit, it was Brioni. Ty wearing jeans and a T-shirt was breathtaking, but in this David Gandy caliber tux, he was out-of-this-world magnificent. Isabel’s confidence might have plummeted except for the adoration she saw reflected in Ty’s twinkling blue eyes.
“Ready?”
“Yes.” Isabel sounded far more confident than she felt.
Ty bent to plant a soft kiss on her lips before placing his hand at the small of her back and leading her to the black Maybach idling at the curb.
Conrad hopped out from behind the driver’s seat to open the back door for her. Isabel slid inside while Ty made his way around the other side and Conrad took his place back behind the wheel.
After reaching for her hand, Ty brought it to his lips and kissed her fingers. “Want to skip the festivities and go to the penthouse instead?”
She grinned and immediately felt the tight knots in her neck begin to relax. The thought that he might even be considering it eased her nerves. “No. We’re going, and we’re going to have a wonderful time.”
He smiled, shaking his head while his eyes flickered up and down her. “So, do I want to know how much you spent on the gown? It must have cost a small fortune from the way you look in it.”
“Shows what you know.”
“Well, are you going to tell me?”
“Let me just say this. Ellen went shopping with me, and she’s one skinny blond piglet sniffing out prize truffles when it comes to locating treasures at bargain prices. She also arranged my hair and did my makeup.”
He gazed at her in the early evening light as the car neared their destination. “Ellen isn’t one of my favorite people, but I must say she did quite a job. I wasn’t kidding about the armed guards. Just don’t leave my side. Some of my colleagues can be very aggressive, especially after a few drinks. Trust me.”
Ten minutes later Conrad eased the car to the curb of a building sporting a scalloped black awning with gold trim. He headed around to open her door, but Ty made it there before he did and opened the door for her. “I’ve got it, Conrad.” The two men nodded at each other in silent communication.
Isabel heard the sound of car engines and doors opening and closing behind them as Ty took her by the elbow and led her to the entrance of the Sovereign, one of San Francisco’s most prestigious hotels. Tuxedoed men stationed at the entrance collected gold-embossed vellum invitations and checked names against lists on iPads. Ty wrapped his arm around her waist and escorted her inside and toward the main ballroom.
Isabel halted at the top of the steps at the entrance to the ballroom and sucked in her breath, completely enthralled. The huge space had been made-over into some sort of James Bond movie scene reminiscent of Casino Royale, the one starring Daniel Craig. She took in framed movie posters of the casino scenes in Dr. No, Thunderball, and Casino Royale that adorned the walls.
She recognized some of the more common gambling games in the room: a roulette wheel, a large round poker table, and a b
lackjack table. But there were other oval tables with green felt inserts, cutouts on one side for dealers, brass hanging lamps overhead, and plush red velvet armchairs surrounding the tables.
“What kind of gambling goes on there?” She tilted her head in the direction of the oval tables.
“Those are for chemin de fer.” At her quizzical expression, Ty leaned his head down close to her to explain. “It’s basically the same as baccarat except in one the player deals the cards for himself, and in the other, the dealer deals the cards. There’s also a craps table over there.”
Spellbound at the attention to detail that must have been involved in transforming the ballroom, Isabel could only imagine that no expense had been spared. Just then Shirley Bassey’s iconic voice began belting out “Goldfinger” over the sound system. Isabel shook her head in amazement and leaned into Ty’s shoulder to whisper, “This must have cost you a fortune.”
“Not me, per se. Grandin Financial to be more exact. The employees deserve an incredible night of fantasy and fun.” He pulled her to his side and bent down to whisper in her ear. “Now do you see why I wanted you to be here with me? This is the most elaborate celebration we’ve ever planned, and I’ll be giving a speech shortly. It means more to me because you’re here.” He gazed down at her.
Isabel sucked in a breath. How did he manage to say things that completely undid her? Her heart pounded against her ribcage, and she closed her eyes for a moment, savoring his words.
When she opened her eyes, attractive women costumed as various Bond Girls, Isabel assumed, because she’d only seen three Bond films, welcomed them and directed them to ticket windows where they received gambling chips compliments of the house. She noticed heads whipping around and the eyes of every woman in the vicinity focused on Ty as they passed.
Trays of vodka martinis and flutes of bubbling champagne were being offered by other “Bond girls.” Ty snagged a glass of champagne for Isabel.
“Here, drink this.” Just as she took a sip, a woman in a pale lavender beaded gown approached them.
Chapter 15
Sleek blond hair gathered in a traditional French twist accentuated the woman’s delicate features. Exquisite and tiny, her gown showcased the perfectly proportioned diminutive figure beneath. Large diamonds glittered on her earlobes. She was everything Isabel wasn’t: her worst nightmare and the perfect match for Ty.
The woman wormed her way in between Isabel and Ty and, snatching his forearm, pulled him away. “You absolutely have to meet—”
“Hold it, Madison,” Ty interrupted, halting the woman’s progress. “Isabel, this is Madison Taylor, Vice President of Grandin Financial. Madison, allow me to introduce my date, Isabel Beachwood.”
“Nice to meet you.” Madison’s brief nod and clipped words spit out like so many darts, sounded as if it wasn’t nice at all.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Madison.” Isabel spoke with all the graciousness she could muster and smiled, extending her hand to shake. Madison ignored it and turned her full megawatt attention to Ty. Isabel let her hand drop to her side.
Madison clucked her tongue. “Really, Ty, don’t be so difficult. I’ve managed to snag Jeremy Clayton. The Jeremy Clayton. You know . . . the billionaire. He’s absolutely dying to meet you.” She began tugging on Ty’s arm again.
Isabel shrugged her shoulders, sympathizing with Ty’s dilemma. This sounded as if it might be a significant business opportunity. “Go on. It’s fine.”
He scowled down at Madison and then turned toward Isabel. “No, it’s not. Come with me.”
She shook her head, not wanting to intrude on what could be an important prospect for Ty. “Really, it’s okay, Ty. I’ll just mingle.”
His brows slammed together. “No, you won’t. I don’t want you mingling without me. Stay right here and enjoy your champagne. I’ll be back in a minute or two.”
As Isabel watched them walk away, Madison curled her petite body into Ty’s side with a familiarity that made Isabel’s stomach lurch. It suddenly dawned on her that they were lovers, or they had been in the past. This woman worked closely with him every day. Without warning, sharp prickles of jealousy stung her like biting fire ants. It was hard to hide her misery.
She tilted up her champagne glass, draining it. Why had she agreed to come here tonight? Was she completely insane? She had no more business being here than some stranger out in the street.
Large, warm hands clasped her shoulders, and at the same time, a deep, faintly familiar voice asked, “Isabel Beachwood? Is it really you?”
She turned and stared up into the violet eyes of Craig Nelson.
He hugged Isabel, holding her against his hard chest for far too long, and then kissed both her cheeks. She caught the scent of his spicy cologne, and it brought back memories of their brief time together. When he finally pulled away, he held her by her arms while his eyes roamed all over her.
“Am I hallucinating? I can’t believe it’s you! Good God, woman, I always knew you were beautiful, but you’re absolutely stunning!”
As distressing as she found this whole encounter, she couldn’t help but notice that the years since college had only increased Craig’s gorgeousness. He appeared taller and more muscular than she remembered; the dazzling tux didn’t hurt, either. It rivaled Ty’s Brioni. His thick dark hair curled a little behind his ears, while those violet eyes were as seductive as ever. Her heart began to race in the old familiar way.
“Do you work for Grandin Financial?” he asked. At the change in topic, she felt relieved at the neutral subject.
“No, my date does.”
His face fell. “Oh, your date. Are you in a serious relationship?”
Isabel paused to consider the question. Before Miss Perfect had carted Ty off, her answer might have been a resounding yes. But now that he’d been gone way longer than he’d promised with a woman he’d obviously been sexually involved with . . . That was her business and hers alone. She bristled at his impertinent question. “That’s really none of your business, Craig.”
He stood too close, so she took a step back from the heat of that big, strong body. The intensity of his gaze as he stared down at her made her feel uneasy. “Would you excuse me? I need to find my date.”
Craig caressed her with his eyes. “Seems to me, if he left you here for this long, he’s not the man for you. Besides, I need to talk to you.”
She shook her head. “That’s not a good idea. It was over between us years ago. We have nothing to talk about.”
His sensuous lips thinned as he frowned down at her. Closing the distance between them, he clasped her upper arms. “I strongly disagree.” He lowered his voice and leaned his head down, his warm breath ruffling loose strands of her hair. “Why did you leave me, Isabel? You wouldn’t take my calls. You avoided me like I had the plague.”
There was no way she was going to answer him, and she tried to pull away, only to have his hand clamp down more tightly on her arm.
“Let it go, Craig. It was a long time ago.”
He towered over her. “You disappeared from my life with no explanation at all, not even so much as a goodbye. You have no idea how much I suffered after you left me. I missed you so much it felt like a withdrawal from narcotics. Everything hurt, especially my heart. We were so good together. No other woman has ever come up to the standard you set. Why, Isabel? Don’t I deserve an answer?”
“An answer to what?” A deep male voice snarled, causing Isabel to jump as Ty’s big hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her none to gently against the side of his body. Glancing up at him, Isabel noticed his face was flushed and a muscle ticked in his jaw.
When neither of them answered his question, he thrust out his hand. “Ty Griffin, Isabel’s boyfriend, and you are?”
“Craig Nelson, Isabel’s boyfriend in college—and hopefully beyond.” A pissing contest between two tux-clad gods was definitely underway.
Ty let go of her and took a step toward Craig, every muscle
in his body tense. Before this confrontation could go any further, and especially angered by Craig’s assertion, Isabel moved in between the two men.
“How can you say you were my boyfriend, Craig? We never went anywhere or did anything. You never even took me to a movie or out to dinner, not even to a party with your friends. I don’t think that qualifies you as a boyfriend.”
The color of Craig’s face turned slightly red, and he dropped his voice. “That’s because I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else being near you. Can you blame me for wanting to keep you all to myself?”
He sounded sincere enough, but if that were true, why had he said all those crude things about her to his friends? Before she could respond, Ty shifted forward so that he was almost nose-to-nose with Craig.
“I think you’d better leave Ms. Beachwood alone. It’s clear she doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
Facing a glacial blue glare that would cause a lesser man to tremble and flee, Craig stood firm without so much as a blink of his eye. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“No, you fucking won’t. Don’t make me call security.” Ty’s voice was as frosty as the ice scraped from a North Dakota windshield in January. Isabel expected to see icicles forming around them at any moment.
She met Craig’s eyes, and the pleading in them cut her to the quick. But she wouldn’t succumb to a man she’d given herself to—heart, soul, and body—who’d referred to her as a “fuck buddy.” So she shook her head. Almost at once his shoulders slumped, and he took two steps back from Ty. With one last glance at her, he turned and strode away.
Isabel barely had time to take a deep breath to try to compose herself when Ty grabbed her arm and pulled her with him.
“Where are we going?” Isabel struggled to keep up with him in her spiked heels.
They crossed the ballroom to an exit that led to a long corridor with doors lining both sides. Ty jiggled the handle on the first door and found it locked. But the next one opened, and he tugged Isabel in behind him, closing and then locking the door.