“So what happened back then?” Jessie asked gently. “How did you…” She wanted to ask, “How did you get pregnant?” but that seemed like a laughably stupid question. Still, more than anything, she wanted to know about her biological father. But she’d take her cues from Fin. “How did you finally make the decision to give up your baby?”
Fin let out a soft, unladylike snort and flipped back her shoulder-length hair, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “I didn’t make the decision, honey. I was fifteen, the daughter of the most intimidating, controlling man you’d ever want to meet who was married to a woman who didn’t dare oppose him, at least not publicly. And don’t forget, I’m an Elliott and we have quite a reputation to maintain.”
The image of a scared, troubled, pregnant teen in that particular scenario clashed with the ambitious, dynamic woman Jessie had come to know. Her heart clutched a little as she related to how frightening it must have been for Fin.
“I’m sorry,” Jessie whispered.
Fin’s eyes flashed. “It was not your fault, honey.” She plucked at the fringe again, studying the pillow for a long time before she met Jessie’s gaze. “His name was Sebastian Deveraux. And, yes, I loved him.” Her expression softened as she offered up a wry smile. “As much as a fifteen-year-old can know about love.”
“Sebastian Deveraux.” Jessie let her biological father’s name play over her lips for the first time. “He sounds sexy.”
Fin laughed softly. “Oh, he was that.”
“Was?” The word slipped out before Jessie could check herself. “Do you know where he is now?”
Fin sat up, reaching over to touch Jessie’s hand. “He died, sweetheart.”
Jessie sucked in a soft breath. “When?”
“About five years after you were born, he was killed in a car accident. I never saw him again, after my parents found out I was pregnant. He was from the same kind of family, with all the trappings of our country club lifestyle, and his parents were no happier about the situation than mine. They sent him to a military academy shortly after mine sent me to a ‘finishing school.’” She made air quotes around the term. “Which, as you know, is a euphemism for St. Theresa of the Little Flower, where I had you.”
“Did you…” Jessie’s stomach tightened. “Did you think about keeping me?”
“Oh my God.” Fin flipped the pillow to the floor as she reached to hug Jessie. “You have no idea. When that nun carried you away…” Fin’s voice cracked as she leaned her cheek against Jessie’s. “I’ll never forget that moment as long as I live. That woman, that horrible woman in black disappearing with my tiny, wailing baby.” She shuddered and squeezed Jessie tighter. “They never let me hold you. The one nurse, though…she whispered, ‘You have a perfect baby girl.’”
Jessie’s heart tumbled.
“I’ve said those words to myself a million times since then,” Fin admitted. “I have a perfect baby girl. Somewhere.”
Jessie let out a soft moan as they clung to each other for a long time.
“Of course, I blamed my father,” Fin continued, as though she couldn’t stop now that she’d started the story. “He told them not to let me hold you, not to let me have one minute with you. I hated him for that and hated my mother for going along with it.”
“Oh, Fin.”
Fin shook her head. “You’d think a woman who gave birth to all those children would be more sympathetic.”
The impact of Fin’s words settled over Jessie. Would her grandparents refuse to accept her now? Worry gripped her. Would they want her to disappear again?
A light tap on the door of Fin’s apartment surprised them both.
“Doesn’t the doorman call you before someone comes here?” Jessie asked.
“Not if my visitor lives in the building,” Fin said, rising to answer the door.
“Who do you mean?”
“Get ready, Jessie. You are about to meet your first Elliott as an Elliott.” She padded in her stocking feet across the expanse of the living room to her front door. “That you, Shane?”
“Fin, what’s going on?” Shane Elliott’s baritone rumbled through the door. “Why did you run off today? Chloe said—”
Fin whipped the door open and faced her twin brother. “Chloe said what?”
Shane looked beyond her, his gaze falling on Jessie. “So you did leave with her.” He looked back at Fin. “Chloe said you were crying and acting weird.”
“They were tears of joy, Shane.” Fin tugged the door wider and indicated for him to enter. “Come on in, I want you to meet someone.”
Jessie stood slowly. She’d met Shane Elliott once, at an EPH function, and had seen him in Fin’s office and around the building. It wasn’t like anyone could miss a version of Fin that came wrapped in six-feet-two of strapping male, complete with the moss-green eyes and just enough oxblood in his dark hair to brand him as all Elliott.
And her blood uncle.
Oh, Lord. It was one thing to reveal herself to Fin, but now that the deed was done, Jessie had to face all of the Elliotts, with no guarantee any of them would welcome her.
Shane stepped into the apartment, offering his easy smile to Jessie, but tempering it with a wary glance at his sister. “Are you in the middle of a meeting or something?”
Fin put her arm on Shane’s shoulder and guided him into the living room. Her eyes sparkled and her mouth tipped up in a secret, triumphant smile that gave Jessie a much-needed injection of confidence. She had Fin’s support. Wasn’t that all that mattered?
“Shane, this is Jessie Clayton.”
He nodded and reached out a hand in greeting. “I think we’ve met. Aren’t you a Charisma intern?”
Jessie tilted her head in acknowledgement as they shook hands. “Among other things.”
“Shane.” Jessie could see Fin’s fingertips tighten her grasp of Shane’s arm. “Look at her.”
He did. Hard and long. A bubbly brew of anticipation and dread numbed Jessie’s limbs.
“Look at her,” Fin repeated, abandoning Shane’s side to stand by Jessie and wrap an arm around her waist. “Guess who this is? Can’t you see?”
Shane frowned, saying nothing, studying Jessie, then Fin. The crease between his eyes deepened as he volleyed his gaze again. Then he took one step back, his jaw loose. “No.”
Fin squeezed Jessie’s waist. “Yes.”
“Holy—” Shane’s expression shifted from shock to elation. “You found her, Fin!” He shoved his fingers into his hair, laughing and shaking his head as he stared at Jessie. “You found her!”
“She found me,” Fin said softly.
In an instant, Shane bolted forward and circled Jessie in a powerful, spontaneous bear hug. “I don’t believe it!”
Firecrackers of delight popped in Jessie’s head as she closed her eyes and let Shane embrace her with the unabashed enthusiasm of a favorite uncle. Like Fin, he drew back, inspected her and squeezed her again. Like Fin, he had a million questions and kept interrupting them to express amazement that she was such an Elliott and had slipped right in under their notice. And like Fin, he made Jessie feel utterly welcome and wanted.
Then talk turned to Patrick Elliott, and Shane and Fin shared a look that spoke volumes. Volumes that Jessie didn’t think she wanted to read.
“Give it to me straight,” she said from her comfy chair, looking at Fin and Shane on the sofa. “Is he going to hate me?”
Neither one said anything.
“What about your mother?” Jessie asked.
Again, they just exchanged silent glances, then Fin folded her arms defiantly. “I don’t give a damn what either one of them says. They stole you from me—well, my father did. My mother just let him.”
Shane placed a comforting hand on Fin’s shoulder. “So many years have passed, Fin. I can’t believe he’d hold onto old anger.”
Fin gave him a look that said “get real.” “This is Patrick Elliott we’re talking about. Control freak and keeper of all that is Elliot
t and sacred.”
“Do you think he’d flat-out reject me?” Jessie asked. “And your mother would, too?”
Shane shook his head. “Mom will do what is best for the family, but she does take her cues from Dad.”
“The fact that their fifteen-year-old darling got pregnant was a sore spot twenty-three years ago,” Fin said.
“I imagine it’s still going to be a little tender,” Jessie said.
But Fin gave her a loving smile. “I’ll watch your back. And if anyone tries to mess with you, they have to deal with me.”
“And me,” Shane said, shooting to his feet. “In fact, this calls for a celebration.”
Fin looked up at him. “What do you have in mind?”
He grinned. “An official welcoming of Jessie. I think it’s time the Elliotts leave the competition at the door and put on our dancing shoes.”
“Dancing?” Jessie laughed.
“Precisely,” Shane said. “Dancing, champagne, black tie, the works. This is a major event in the history of the Elliott family. Like a wedding, a birth, a golden anniversary.”
“Oh, Shane!” Fin exclaimed, clasping her hands together in delight. “The official welcoming party. I love the idea.”
Shane crouched down in front of Jessie. “You know, Jessie, we’ve lost a few members of the family over the years.” He glanced at Fin, sadness in his eyes. “Our brother and his wife were killed in a plane crash fifteen years ago. There’s been a hole in the family ever since.”
“And in my mother’s heart,” Fin added softly.
“What could be more worthy of a celebration than finding someone who’s been gone?” He took her hand and squeezed it. “I want to do this for you, Jessie. I want to throw a gala event that will show our family and the world that we welcome you. May I?”
Jessie blinked and looked at her uncle. Then at Fin, who didn’t bother to wipe the teardrops that meandered down her cheeks.
“I can’t believe how lucky I am.”
“No, Jessie,” Fin whispered, picking up that pillow and hugging it to her heart. “I’m the lucky one.”
“We need to make an invitation list,” Shane announced. “Everyone in the family, close friends, the executives of every magazine—”
“No.” The word was out before Jessie could stop herself. At their surprised looks, she added, “This is just family and friends, right? Not work.”
“Most of our friends are work,” Shane said dryly. “Or at least we pretend like they are.”
Fin gave Jessie a knowing look. “Is it Cade, honey?”
Fin knew, of course, that she and Cade had been together. And she’d been there when he’d accused her of spying. But Shane knew nothing of her affair with the executive editor of the magazine.
And, after all, it was an affair. Because if it had been anything else, anything more meaningful or lasting, Cade would have trusted her.
“You know, Jessie,” Fin finally said, “I suspect Cade McMann is nursing a couple of black-and-blue shins from kicking himself tonight.”
The thought gave her little satisfaction. “Then he’ll have a hard time dancing at our party, won’t he?” She managed a sly smile at Fin. “Sure, add him to the list. Why not?”
In spite of everything that had transpired that day, the truth was, Jessie still ached for Cade.
Eleven
“Where’s the key to The Closet?” Jessie asked into the phone, keeping her voice low even though the Charisma offices were completely deserted.
“What are you talking about?” Lainie’s voice was heavy with sleep and no small amount of irritation at the wake-up call. “Where are you?”
“I’m at work right now, and I need the key.”
Jessie had crashed at Fin’s on Friday night after Shane left, and Saturday too. On Sunday, she made two calls: to Lainie and to her father. Dad had been overjoyed that Fin had welcomed Jessie into her life, but Lainie had a million questions that Jessie had left unanswered. And she didn’t want to launch into them now. Not while she was on a mission.
“What time is it?” Lainie asked, still sounding sluggish as she struggled to wake up. “What are you doing there?”
“It’s about eleven-fifteen,” Jessie said. “I left Fin’s a while ago and I was going to come straight home, but I remembered that Spring Fling project needed to get moved into preproduction.”
“Why don’t you do it tomorrow?” Jessie could hear Lainie shifting in bed, probably reaching for the lamp and blinking madly.
“Fin and I are taking this whole week off. We’re just going to hang out and catch up and get ready for the party I told you about. I really don’t want to come back in here for a week.”
The truth was, she wasn’t ready to face the whole company yet. She didn’t want to face Cade. Not yet. Her thoughts and feelings were still too jumbled and too raw. “I just stopped in here so I could handle that one production thing, so Scarlet wouldn’t have to worry about it.”
“Jessie, you’re Fin Elliott’s daughter,” Lainie said with her best get-a-clue tone. “I think your cousin Scarlet will stop being your boss Scarlet and let you slide on this one.”
“Lainie, don’t do this,” Jessie warned. “I’m the same person. And I still have a job to do.”
“Okay. Fine. You’re too devoted for words. But what do you want in The Closet?”
“That mint-green de la Renta.”
“Oooh,” Lainie cooed. “Killer dress. And I think it’s your size, too.”
“Fin said I could wear it to my welcoming party.”
“Oh, man, with your eyes and body, you’re right. You need that dress.”
“Thank you. So, where’s the key? Hurry up, this place is pitch-black and a little creepy.”
“Open my bottom desk drawer.”
Jessie did.
“Reach to the far left corner in the back. Feel the leather pouch?”
“Got it. What is this?”
“The key to where I keep the key.” At Jessie’s exasperated exhale, Lainie defended her security system. “That de la Renta alone is worth about six grand, sweetheart. The whole closet has about two hundred thousand dollars of clothes and accessories. I don’t want just anyone burglarizing it in the middle of the night.”
“Just your roommate.”
“Well, you are Fin Elliott’s daughter.”
“Stop,” Jessie chided. “Not another word from you.”
“I cleaned the apartment.”
Jessie scowled at the abrupt change of subject. “Why?”
“Won’t I need to find a new roommate now that you’re—”
“Cut it out, Lainie. I’m not going anywhere.” She thought she heard a sound from the hall and peered out into the darkness. Nothing. “Except in that closet. Bye.”
Key in hand, Jessie slipped into The Closet and put on one soft light behind the curtain of a dressing area. She didn’t want to draw attention to the night security guard if he happened by. Might be tough to convince him that the editor-in-chief was her birth mother and she’d given permission for Jessie to borrow a designer dress for a party given in her honor.
No, she’d rather avoid that conversation and the ensuing arrest.
Tiptoeing across the cluttered central area, she ignored the racks of clothes and shoes and a three-way-mirror, heading straight to the back where the de la Renta hung. With reverent hands, she unzipped the black cloth protector and let a million yards of pale celery silk sigh over her fingertips. From the moment she’d seen this dress, she’d been in love. The top was a simple strappy camisole, fitted to the hips, but the whole bottom half was made of about twenty fluffy, filmy layers of organza frills that cascaded to the floor.
The man was a genius. How could she not name her horse after him? She might have to name her first child Oscar. Jessie eased the dress off the hanger, seized by a sizzling temptation. She didn’t want to cart this creation home on the subway without being absolutely sure she wanted to wear it for the party. She simpl
y had to try it on.
In a flash, she slid off the jeans she’d borrowed from Fin, and then stripped off the white T-shirt that she wore. She unhooked her bra and glanced down at her underwear. Serviceable, but a crime under this dress. She slid off her panties and walked naked to the lingerie cases, pulling out a whisper of peach-colored silk and lace that had only been photographed on a table for a special feature on “Undercover Agents.”
She slid on the thong, then carefully climbed into the frothy organza, nearly giggling with delight as the magical fabric tickled her legs.
Of course, it was made for a five-foot-nine model, so the last two rows of ruffles pooled around her five-foot-six body. From a shoe cubby, she grabbed a pair of sky-high silver sandals and slipped them on, standing in front of the three-way-mirror and grinning like a fool. Then she did one slow, graceful pirouette.
“I love you, Oscar de la Renta.” This dress was perfect for the night she would be welcomed by the Elliott family. She’d feel beautiful, confident, glorious.
And Cade would see her.
Sighing, she unclipped her hair and shook it out, letting it tumble like her own Oscar’s sorrel-colored mane, imagining how she’d wear it next Saturday, along with a tiny bit of makeup that would make her eyes sparkle and match the amazing dress.
And then he’d dance with her.
The possibility made her tingle right down to the three-inch heels. She stared in the mirror, but instead of seeing herself, she visualized his expression when he saw her dressed like this. She imagined his powerful hands as he would reach for her to touch this dress. She practically tasted his long, soulful kiss at the end of a slow, sensual dance.
She froze, put her hands over her mouth and stared at the agony mirrored in her green eyes. She missed him so much it hurt. “Was he the best thing that ever happened to me? Was I wrong for pushing him away?” she murmured into her hands. “How can I live without him? I love him.”
“Are you sure?”
With a gasp she blinked into the mirror at the image of Cade, standing in the partially opened doorway.
Dynasties:The Elliots, Books 7-12 Page 42