by Linda Verji
"Danny." She reached across the table for the paper but he turned in his chair.
"Nope," he insisted. "You know how crazy your whole family gets when that trophy’s involved."
"We’re not crazy," Misha rose to the defense of her much maligned family. "We’re just… passionate about winning."
"Yeah, right." A snorting sound escaped him. "All your cousins still call me white boy. Aunt Keisha tried to drown me in the dunking pool and I wasn’t even the target. Will farted in my face during Giant Connect. Sean laced my lotion with pepper so we’d be forced to forfeit Tug of War and Femi told me to push through the pain…"
"That was five years ago," Misha wheedled. "We’ve all changed."
"No."
"Daaanny."
He shook his head. "Absolutely not."
"Pleeease," she begged. This time he didn’t even answer, choosing instead to ignore her repeated pleas and read his paper.
Striving for a nonchalant tone, Misha said, "Did I tell you that Tony and Elle broke up?"
That got his attention. Danny stiffened, immediately understanding the implied threat in her statement, and his gaze shot upwards to clash with hers. He lowered his paper, deliberately folded it and placed it beside his plate. His gaze flickered up and down over her in calculated perusal. That piercing gaze would’ve been enough to make any other woman squirm in her seat. Misha merely returned it with a studied gaze of her own.
Danny inclined his head. "Risky play, Alexander."
She shrugged. "I’m desperate."
They studied each other across the table, gauging each other’s will to win this battle. For a moment she thought he might actually call her bluff but then he released a heavy breath. "Fine. I’ll come with you."
Misha’s lips widened in a smile as she enthusiastically added, "Okay, we’ll start training on-"
"Not so fast." Danny raised a hand to halt her words. "There are conditions."
Her smile dimmed. "What conditions?"
Danny gave a wolfish grin. "So you know how my mother has been trying to make nice with Richard Wilde…"
Oh yes, she’d heard. Ever since Edya Landa-Hollis had learned that Richard Wilde was up for consideration as a prospective nominee to the Supreme Court, she’d been working relentlessly to get into his pockets – or rather to get him into her pockets. To that effort she'd had been trying to convince Danny to court the Wilde’s daughter, Lauren; a proposition that had been met with outright hostility from Danny.
Misha narrowed her eyes. "Yes?"
"Well, she claims that she has to stay in London for a couple more weeks." He paused for a moment before adding, "… and Katherine Wilde is throwing a party to celebrate Bradley's new positions as Assistant District Attorney this weekend."
Misha blinked and when she spoke, her "No," was unequivocal.
"Come on," he said. "I can’t go to that party alone. There’s no way Mother didn’t plan this sudden extension of her trip." He added glumly, "She’s probably recruited Katherine to lock me and Lauren in some deep dark dungeon together until we say I do."
It sounded dramatic but Misha didn't refute it. Edya had been known to do some pretty dark things to get her sons to follow her edicts. Regardless, Misha was not going to that party.
She shook her head. "No, I don't want to go. Everyone there will either be avoiding me because they think I'll do an exposé on them. The ones who aren't avoiding me will be stalking me in hopes that I'll cover their latest political event or some other nonsense. Plus I can't stand Katherine and she can't stand me."
"You think I want to go either?" Danny asked, "Katherine will be hitting on me all night, when she's not throwing me at Lauren. I need a buffer against her."
"Then find a pillow cause I sure ain't one," Misha retorted. "I wasn't there when you were sleeping with her."
"That was ten years ago," Danny defended himself.
"Ten stupid years ago." Misha shook her head. A smile quirking her lips, she said, "I can't believe you slept with a married woman. And that married woman at that. Katherine has more plastic in her than a Barbie doll. What did you see in her?"
Danny took a long breath as if fortifying himself. Completely ignoring her question, he said, "I would've refused to go to the party but Zeke’s in South Africa and someone’s got to represent the family. If I go with a date it will be harder to get trapped."
"Daaanny, no," Misha whined. "The last time I went to a party with you, we made the front-page. I don't want to give the press more wood for their bonfire."
"The press won't be there," he countered.
Her eyebrows shot up. "Are you kidding me? This is Katherine Wilde. She's probably sent them monogrammed invitations."
"Katherine told my mother this was just a small gathering for friends and family. No paparazzi," he coerced, reaching for Misha's hand across the table. Her pulse jumped when he stroked a finger across the back of her hand and a tingle ran up her arm. He added, "And we won’t stay for long. Just five minutes to duck in, show my face so Richard sees me then we can leave. I’ll even buy you dinner at that weird Indian place you like."
She threw him a pleading look. "Danny, don’t make me."
He was silent for a moment, his gaze taking her in slowly, from her green silk top upwards to meet her eyes. Her skin heated at the touch of his eyes but she maintained her earnest expression. She really didn’t want to go to that party. His gaze softened and for a moment she thought he might let her off the hook…
Then he shrugged. "Sorry, that’s my price."
"You know I could still ask Tony to go with me to the reunion," Misha threatened. "All my cousins like him."
Danny merely cocked his eyebrows.
CHAPTER 2
By nine p.m., Saturday, Danny was ready to admit that the evening was a catastrophe. Nothing was working out as he'd expected it to.
For one; Katherine had lied. This was no small get-together. Judging by the number of people milling around the enormous gallery, it seemed she'd invited all of New York's upper strata and their friends. Worse, the press was out in full force. They hid their recorders and pens beneath expensive evening gowns and tuxedos, but Danny had been friends with Misha long enough to recognize the keen, interested gaze of a journalist.
Even worse, Richard Wilde was nowhere to be seen. Considering he was the father of the man of the hour, the judge should've been front and center in the gallery, but Danny had yet to sniff him. Danny wished he could just leave, but if he left without at least greeting the man, tonight would’ve been a complete waste of time. It looked like he'd be forced to ask Katherine where Richard was – and she was the last person he wanted to talk to at this shindig.
Then there was Misha.
She looked stunning tonight. And it made being around her much harder. Misha wasn't classically beautiful, yet there was something about the hair cut into a chin-length bob, the smooth bronzed skin and the button nose with a silver stud winking on one side that belied the word 'ordinary'.
With her height, she towered high above many of the guests. But true to form she’d chosen to wear stilettos that gave her a height advantage over almost everyone, male and female. If anyone was blind enough to miss her regal form, her dress was like a beacon drawing every eye to her.
Like every other woman who'd attended the red-tie event, she was in red. But unlike almost everyone else, there was nothing plunging or short about her dress. Instead she’d chosen to wear a floor-length bodycon dress, with mesh panels on the sides. The soft fabric clung to her voluptuous curves and flaunted the rich tones of her bronze skin. More than a few men – and women - threw appreciative looks her way as she circled the gallery to chatter with the other guests. Those looks brought out all of Danny’s possessive instincts.
She was his Artemis.
His hunter.
His fingers flexed reflexively over her waist as he stared daggers at Bradley Wilde who was not being as sly as he thought with his leering looks at her bust.
"Don’t you have to greet your other guests," Danny practically growled at Bradley.
"Don’t be rude, Danny," Misha berated as she threw a smile Bradley’s way. "You’re talking to our newest ADA. He could order our arrest."
"I could never arrest you. You're too beautiful," Bradley flirted, even though his girlfriend, Jodie, was standing right next to him.
Danny didn’t blame Bradley for his fawning attention. It was hard to resist Misha’s lovely smile or the way her hazel eyes glittered when she did. It was what had drawn him to her years ago. To say it'd been hard to realize that she was in love with his brother and not him was an understatement. Better she'd just ripped his heart out and thrown it to the wolves.
Yet despite her rejection, his attraction to her hadn't faded.. It'd grown stronger with each year. Fortunately, he'd gotten better at hiding it. But nights like these, when she was looking so damn good, it was hard.
It was damn hard.
No. Danny couldn't blame Bradley for falling into her thrall. That however didn't prevent him from wishing he could punch the shorter but paunchier man when Bradley sidled closer to her.
"Flattery will get you anywhere." Misha’s warm laughter reverberated around their circle drawing everyone else to join in as she teased Bradley. Before Bradley could monopolize her attention any further, Misha turned to Sylvia Poole, "Sylvia’s how’s your mother doing? I heard about Ramon."
Danny hadn’t heard anything about Ramon. But he wasn’t surprised Misha had. There was a reason his mother called her ‘Nosy Alexander’.
"Oh, Mama’s having such a hard time." Sylvia gasped dramatically. "We’re going to St. Bart’s next week so she can recover."
"Oh?" Misha said. That was all Sylvia needed to launch into her spiel about her former step-dad now a fugitive of justice because of some bank robbery out west. From her enthusiastic rendition of the events of his capture, it was obvious Sylvia was enjoying the five minutes of fame their misfortune had given them.
The way she told it you’d have thought Ramon had held them hostage in their house and threatened to blow it up if they didn’t give him a gazillion dollars and a helicopter. The truth was that Ramon had been arrested at the country-club earlier today while getting a massage. But Sylvia’s dramatic telling had the fortunate result of capturing everyone’s attention. It gave Danny the opening he needed to ease Misha away from the group.
"Are we going home yet?" Misha asked as he set their glasses on a tray carried by a passing waiter.
"Not yet." Pressing his hand to her spine, he guided her towards the gallery’s exit. He reveled in how she arched her spine as if seeking his touch and without protest followed his wordless direction. "We’re going to check the study to see if Richard is there. After we see him, we can get the hell out of here."
"Okay." Despite her heels, Misha's footsteps fell seamlessly in tune with his. "But you owe me. You promised me only five minutes and we’ve been here more than two hours. You'll have to make it up to me."
They both nodded a greeting towards the Remingtons and Mendleys who were huddled together in low conversation, with Danny praying that neither couple would try to forestall their forward progress. They didn’t. Another group of partygoers nodded at them but didn't stop them either. A couple more steps and they’d be home-free and at liberty to search for Richard without people constantly trying to get their attention.
They weren't that lucky.
"Daniel Landa-Hollis." Katherine Wilde ambushed them two feet from the exit with a bright smile. "Just the man I was looking for."
Daniel masked his irritation well with a smooth smile and a, "Hello, Katherine."
As usual Katherine was a vision of willowy loveliness. Her blond hair was piled atop her head, a few stray curls left to frame her face. She was wearing a white cocktail dress, because of course she couldn’t wear a red dress like everyone else. The fabric clung to her size zero form and dipped dangerously between her clearly surgically enhanced, voluptuous cleavage.
It was that cleavage that had suckered him into sleeping with her ten years ago. That one moment of weakness still haunted him to this day, as did Katherine. Whenever they were in the same place, she took every opportunity to remind him of that mistake or to try to seduce him into a repeat performance. Tonight was no exception.
"You look good." Katherine skimmed the length of his body with hooded eyes and a small smile as if mentally stripping him. Danny felt like meat on a platter being stared at by a wolf.
He didn’t miss the way Misha stiffened beside him, obviously uncomfortable with the attention Katherine was giving him. He circled his arm around her waist in a bid to reassure her that he’d get her out of here as soon as he could. Katherine’s gaze zeroed in on his arm around Misha then snapped upwards to meet the younger woman's own stare. Her tone was noticeably chillier when she said, "Michelle."
Misha hated being called Michelle, but you'd never have known it from the beaming smile she gave Katherine. "How are you, Katherine?" She motioned to the room. "This is a lovely party."
"Thank you." Katherine’s lips straightened into an even thinner smile. "If I’d known you were so desperate to attend it, I would’ve sent you an invitation."
Misha’s eyes narrowed, a sure sign that she was about to snap. Danny cut in before she could, "I invited Misha," he informed Katherine. "You said you were looking for me?"
But it was almost as if Katherine was literally looking for a fight because her attention stayed on Misha. "How are you these days? Still poking your nose into other people's business?"
The woman didn’t have a self-preservative bone in her body. With her slenderness she was no physical match for Misha. If it came down to a physical altercation, Misha could fling her across the gallery like a rag-doll. However, Misha wasn’t the type to get handsy. Her weapon of choice was her tongue.
It seemed she’d sheathed it tonight though because she merely smiled at Katherine and said, "Yes I am, and racking all those Pulitzers as I do. What about you? I heard you were launching a new perfume?"
Katherine visibly started and shock shadowed her voice. "Where did you hear that from?"
Misha shrugged. "My nose is everywhere."
Katherine scanned the crowd around them as if to make sure no one else was listening to their conversation. Her voice lowered into an almost whisper as she said, "That’s information that’s yet to be released."
Misha smiled. "You don't have to worry, Katherine. I won't share."
It was a subtle threat to Katherine to tread carefully around her.
Danny’s lips twitched. Starting to skirt to the other side of Katherine, he said. "If that’s all…"
"Actually I need to talk to you." Katherine latched onto his arm, the Wilde family ring, a gold band topped with jadeite stone, glittering on her ring-finger. Her eyes swooped past him to Misha then back to him again. "Alone."
The woman wouldn’t quit.
But there was no way to evade her without being rude. Danny sent an apologetic look Misha’s way.
Misha nodded. "If you’ll excuse me."
She turned to leave, and Danny dropped his arm letting his fingers link briefly with hers. He squeezed slightly, a reassurance that he’d come get her as soon as he could. His gaze followed her wistfully as she walked away.
"So Daniel…" Katherine drew his attention back to her.
Misha wanted nothing more than to walk out of this ridiculous party. The fakeness was like a cloying scent seeping into her skin with each minute she spent here. They smiled at her, laughed with her, kowtowed to her, stroked her ego, but deep inside she knew they couldn't stand to be around her. And she couldn't blame them. When someone had the power to destroy you with a stroke of the pen, it was hard to like them.
There at the corner, laughing with Cheron Hunter was Peter Norell. A year ago Misha had taken down a Philippine subsidiary of his fashion empire for using child workers. There patting Bradley's back was Senator Marc Spencer. Mi
sha had practically handed him the keys to his office after she'd exposed the funding for his main opponent as coming from a blood-diamond warlord. On the other side of the room was General Joan Jane who was hard at work trying to shut down Misha's current story; an exposé on the country's arbitrary use of drones in the Middle East.
It was a hard, sometimes thankless, job exposing the truth, but someone had to do it. And Misha enjoyed it, most of the time. But it did affect her personal life and the kind of friends she had. It was hard to find genuine friends who weren't friends with her for what she could do for them, especially within this crowd. Fortunately, she'd been blessed to find one among them. She looked back over her shoulder searching for him.
Dressed in a stark black tuxedo, white shirt and red bow-tie, Danny looked good enough to eat. He was still talking to Katherine who was crowded against him like she was trying to climb into his body. Charmer that he was, he was giving her his full attention, looking for all the world as if Katherine was sharing the recipe for World peace. Misha itched to walk over there and rip the woman off him. She bit back on the impulse, reminding herself that he wasn’t hers to be jealous over. He would never be hers.
Dragging her eyes away from Danny and Katherine, Misha searched the room for someone she could chat with; someone who wasn't afraid of her or didn't want something from her. Her gaze fell on Lauren Wilde.
The slender woman was standing alone next to the east windows, seemingly trying to blend with the scarlet drapes. She seemed lost among the crowd. There was a group of people beside her, but either they couldn’t see her or they weren’t interested in including her in their conversation. She looked lonely.
Lauren was the odd one out of the Wildes. Not only was she the only dark-eyed, auburn-haired one in the blue-eyed, blond family, but she was also the least gregarious. Maybe that was why Misha liked her so much. Because she didn't look like a Wilde.
Misha's gaze must've pricked at Lauren because the younger woman lifted her gaze. The moment her eyes met Misha's they lit up in a smile. Returning the smile, Misha started towards her but her progress was abruptly halted when someone grabbed her arm.