by Lee Winter
“No. I’m not rich. And the reasons why are none of your concern.”
“Does Lauren know?” He leaned forward, brow drawn. “About them?” Lucas pointed at the stage.
“She knows.”
He balled his hand into a fist and dropped it on top of the back of Catherine’s chair in front of him. He lowered his chin on it and locked eyes with her. “Is this why you act like you’re better than everyone else? Better than us? Better than Iowa?”
“Is that what you think?”
He looked at her intently. “Oh, I know it is. Shame Lauren can’t see what’s right in front of her. Even my brothers think you’re okay ’cause they say you love Laur. Hell, Mark’s been begging me to lay off you. But I’m not so easy to sucker. I’m looking out for her. I want to know: What’s your game? Are you playing with my big sis?”
“How can I be playing with Lauren? I’m marrying her.”
“I looked you up. I know you’re the Caustic Queen. You aren’t exactly famous for anything except being a bitch and bringing down corrupt politicians. The thing is, Cat, I know my sister way better than you, and for a lot longer. She loves you, I get that. But she doesn’t always see what’s right in front of her.”
“And that is?”
“Someone who’ll suck the goodness and decency right out of her and spit her out when they’re done. I see you. You’re dark. Dark and mean. She’s not. So, what the hell are you doing with someone like her? Especially since you’re rich as sin and could have anyone you want? Why Lauren?”
Catherine wanted to lash the obnoxious upstart. Remind him she knew Lauren far better than he did. She had been living with her, loving her, sharing her dreams for a year. She wanted to sneer at him for treating his sister like she was too stupid not to know who she was marrying.
But then he looked at her, unblinking, and she could see it in his eyes.
Fear.
Fear she’d hurt Lauren?
She sighed. Just great. An overprotective brother to match the mother-bear grandmother. The worst of her anger seeped out.
Still, despite his poorly executed good intentions, it wasn’t his place to demand anything of her. He hadn’t earned her life story or the truth in her heart any more than Meemaw.
“You don’t know me,” Catherine said evenly. “You don’t understand me, even though you’re so sure you do. You base your concerns on a professional persona that has little bearing on who I really am. Your sister is beautiful, talented, kind, and amusing. So, if you don’t understand what I could possibly see in her, then I pity you. It means you don’t know your own sister half as well as you think. And that’s all I’m going to say to you.”
Lucas’s eyes narrowed.
Catherine rose, turned her back on him, and drilled her heels viciously into the floor as she strode toward the stage. Her lips compressed with the effort of not uttering all the things she’d dearly have loved to say to wipe that smug look off his face.
A moment later, she realized she had no plan as to where she was going. Just then her mother spotted her, turned fully to face her, and watched her approach with an expectant look.
Oh great.
Chapter 14 –
Ayers and Graces
“Hello, Mother.” Catherine brushed her lips against the woman’s ear in a barely there kiss. The familiarity of her La Vie Est Belle scent, with its hints of iris gourmand, filled her senses.
“Catherine.” Her mother’s plum-colored lips pressed together. Clear blue eyes looked Catherine up and down. “You’re looking older.”
Well, she supposed that was an improvement on her usual litany of Catherine’s failings. At least this one wasn’t her fault this time.
“As do you,” she replied. “It has been twenty years.” She allowed a faint edge of accusation in her tone.
“Your sister has kept me apprised of your movements. Back in DC again? Not humiliating yourself on gossip writing anymore? I suppose that’s a marginal improvement. Maybe stick to the truth in your stories this time?”
Trust her mother to cut to the chase. “And how are things?” Catherine said, ignoring the dig.
“Much as I’d expect. Not a great deal has changed.”
“Nothing? Is Dad still…” She paused, not sure exactly what she was asking.
Her mother gave her a sharp look, as if she’d just enquired whether her husband was still working his way through the company secretaries.
“…still Dad?” Catherine finished.
There was a flash of microaggression that Catherine knew all too well. The faintest lip clench. Then her mother’s mask slammed down tighter than ever. “Your father is powering Ansom to ever greater heights. It’s been in all the financial papers. Surely you’ve noticed, even while you’re off having your midlife crisis.”
“My what?”
“How old is she anyway?
Oh. Of course she’d see it that way. “Thirty-four.”
“Astonishing. She looks twenty-five.” She sighed. “You do know that’s what people will remember—what things appear to be, not what’s true. How could you forget all my lessons?” She made an exasperated noise. “Couldn’t you have just bought the flashy sports car like men do?”
Catherine met her gaze wordlessly, although her heart started pounding. Her mother always did this. A few well-placed jibes and it was like being twelve again.
“I saw the undignified proposal video,” her mother continued. “In front of the President, no less? He must have been appalled. And airing your dirty laundry before the nation’s media, too?”
Dirty laundry? Her love was dirty laundry now? Catherine’s jaw tightened.
“The only relief is that no one yet seems to have worked out who your parents are,” her mother finished, darting her gaze around as if to make sure that wasn’t going to change.
“Well, you did make sure of that, didn’t you? Your overzealous lawyer always swoops in and ‘corrects’ anyone who might come close to drawing a link between us.”
Her mother waved her hand. “I’d have thought that would make you happy. You’re one step further removed from your parents.”
“Ex-parents. Dad made that pretty clear. On Christmas Day, no less. I recall you didn’t object.”
Her mother merely smiled her fake smile that signaled this part of the discussion was now over. She adjusted her pearl necklace to perfectly straight.
The absent gesture hurled Catherine back in time. Her throat tightened.
Victoria Ayers had always been the most elegant woman she’d ever known. Aloof, beautiful, poised. Catherine remembered being schooled constantly in achieving that same level of perfection. Every lesson her mother ever imparted had been about erasing the parts of Catherine that weren’t flawless. Collars yanked up, sleeves straightened, bows aligned.
That’s all Catherine had ever been to her. A series of mistakes that needed correction. And yet they’d thought casting her out of the family would make her want to crawl back to have her flaws adjusted, fixed, and eradicated once more? The freest she’d ever felt was away from them. From her, especially. It was a startling reminder.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” her mother was saying. “What brings you to Ansom Iowa?”
Catherine looked around, reminded of why she was really here. It certainly wasn’t to try to mend bridges. Not possible, anyway. There was never any compromise from her parents’ side.
Her mother stared at her with that same perfect mask of indifference after twenty long years apart. Not one thing had changed in her attitude toward her.
I’d think that would hurt more. How…unexpected.
Instead, all she could feel was that unsettling wash of familiarity from the scent of iris gourmand.
“Well?” her mother said, tone impatient. “I asked you why you are at Ansom Iowa?”
“Supporti
ng family.”
The flash of shock on her mother’s normally guarded face was so profound that Catherine blinked in surprise. It was gone in an instant.
“I didn’t think you cared about our business any longer,” her mother said.
Catherine debated whether to correct the error. “I was in Iowa anyway,” she said after a pause. “I heard about the first anniversary open house. Thought I’d do the rounds, see how things are going.”
Her mother studied her face, seeking the lie. She always did that. Assumed her children were lying to her, although neither of them had been particularly deceitful children, beyond keeping the handful of secrets they didn’t want taken from them—hobbies, beloved possessions, or friends.
Reaching over suddenly, her mother tugged the collar straight on Catherine’s blouse.
Catherine felt it like a slap. Outrage welled up, and for a moment she had no words.
“Well,” her mother said. “You’ll have seen from the tour that business is fine. We have a new electric car project underway, and this MediCache idea is going to revolutionize things, or so your father tells me. Business is good.”
“Why do MediCache in Iowa?” Catherine asked, jerking her collar back to unstraight. “It’s not exactly Hsinchu Science Park around here.”
“Your father likes something it has.” Her mother’s gaze fixated on the collar, eyes sharp.
“What?”
“It’s not a what. More of a who.” Her mother gave a triumphant smile. She always enjoyed knowing things Catherine didn’t.
Years ago, Catherine had worked out it was because she felt stupid most of the time largely due to decades of being condescended to by her husband.
“Why so interested?” she continued. “In fact, why the interest in any of this? You never cared before.”
“I cared,” Catherine said. “But the family business has never been what I wanted from life.”
“Ah yes, your wonderful life.” Her mother’s fixed smile became degrees cooler. “Let’s go back to how you’ve decided to humiliate yourself by marrying that young woman. I hear she’s from Iowa…” Her mother suddenly froze. “Oh. I see. Is that why you’re in Iowa?”
“We’re here to plan the wedding.”
“It’s not a real wedding. My God. If our friends or your father’s associates knew, they’d…”
“Thanks for your input.” Catherine turned to go. “If that’s all?”
“Wait.”
Catherine stopped.
“Is she here?”
Catherine’s gaze drifted to where Lauren was in an animated conversation with Senator Hickory.
“Oh. I see she is.” Her mother raked Lauren’s body with her usual critical gaze. “I hope you’ve told her you’ve been disinherited.”
“She didn’t even know who I was until yesterday.”
Her mother gave the most dignified of snorts. “Don’t be so naïve.”
“She didn’t. Nor was she happy to find out. Not that I blame her. But if it puts your mind at rest, she knows I’m no longer part of this family.”
“Good. We do not need some Iowan with a hay stalk hanging out of her mouth trying to lay claim to the family fortune. I did expect more taste from you in your romantic pursuits. You’ve been such a disappointment.”
Ah yes. Disappointment and embarrassment were the two things guaranteed to bring down her mother’s wrath. Her mother’s disapproval still stung a little, Catherine was appalled to discover. Just a lot less now. Like finding a long-faded bruise.
She regarded her mother, debating how to reply. The last time they’d met, Catherine hadn’t yet become the Caustic Queen. But that was then. Catherine straightened.
“What?” Her mother raised one impeccably arched eyebrow to condescending heights. “What’s that look for?” Then, clearly no longer able to resist the frustrating imperfection, her hand flashed out, aiming for Catherine’s collar again.
Catherine brushed it away with an irritated slap. “Stop that, I’m not a child. And that look’s because I realized it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“What doesn’t?”
“Your opinion. Or Dad’s. I’m happy now. I just remembered how irrelevant you both are to me.” Her words came out flat and plain. Saying it out loud, feeling the truth of it humming through her veins, felt powerful.
“I see,” her mother said, voice low and warning. “You now feel it’s acceptable to speak to me in that wa—”
Lauren suddenly appeared at Catherine’s side. “Hi,” she said, snaking a protective arm around her waist. Lauren darted a concerned look at her.
Her mother’s expression froze at the intimate gesture.
“Mother, this is Lauren King, my fiancée. Lauren, this is Victoria.” Her lip curled in mockery. “But she prefers everyone to call her Mrs. Ayers.”
Lauren smiled and stuck her hand out. “Hi, Mrs. Ayers.”
Her mother looked at the proffered hand and shifted her gaze to her face. Then she glanced between both women. “I pity you.” It wasn’t entirely clear who she meant.
She turned and floated off the stage, irritation in every line of her face.
Lauren took in Catherine’s expression. “Was it that bad? You looked pretty annoyed.”
“It’s about what I expected. She will never change.”
“Talked to your dad yet?”
“No. And I’m not sure I should now.”
“Catherine, you know why we’re really here.”
Catherine drew in a deep breath and thought about what mattered. The story. Which always comes first. “Well, I suppose it is time we said hello to Lionel.”
Lionel Ayers was a handsome man, Lauren decided, if you liked that rugged, tanned, older-man thing. It helped, she supposed, that he had a certain Catherine-esque quality to him. He was confident and strong, with alert eyes that seemed to weigh up everyone he spoke to.
His glance briefly scorched up and down Lauren’s body, not even hiding his base interest, even though he was deep in conversation with a coterie of yes-men gathered around him.
“I’m sorry about that,” Catherine murmured. “I don’t even think he knows he does it to women. Which probably makes it worse.”
Lauren winced. “Does your mother know?”
“She knows.” Catherine leaned forward and tapped an executive on one shoulder, a man blocking her path to her father. “Excuse me.”
He turned, glaring. “Yes?”
“I’d like to get through.”
“You and everyone else. But Mr. Ayers isn’t meeting the public today.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not the public,” she snapped. “I’m his daughter.”
His face underwent a comical transformation, his gaze rapidly assessing her features. He suddenly swallowed.
Lauren wasn’t surprised at the recognition she’d glimpsed in his eye. Catherine did look a lot like her elegant mother, once you knew the connection, and it was uncanny how similar their mannerisms were. But Catherine also had an inner warmth when you got to know her, whereas Victoria’s chill seemed to go right to her core.
“Ma’am, I do apologize. I wasn’t aware he had another… I mean…he’s never said…um…” Folding almost double in obsequiousness, the man stepped back to allow Catherine and Lauren entry into the inner circle.
Lionel’s eyes immediately fell on his daughter. For a brief second, they warmed before the softness leached from them. Interesting.
“Darling,” he said, tone faintly mocking. “What a surprise.” He turned. “Gentlemen, could you give me a few moments?”
The suited sycophants melted away until only Lauren, Catherine, and Lionel stood in an uncomfortable triangle on one corner of the stage, their eyes shifting from face to face.
“Dad, I’d like you to meet—”
&nb
sp; “Yes, yes. Lauren King. The fiancée.” He appeared amused.
“Hi,” Lauren said, and stuck out her hand again.
The handshake was a crushing one, designed to intimidate. But she hadn’t grown up with five brothers with fierce warrior grips for nothing. She gave as good as she got. His smirk fell away.
“So.” Lionel turned back to Catherine. “What do you need?”
“Who says I need anything?”
“You’re here. So? Business or personal? If it’s the latter, don’t bother inviting me to the wedding. I’ll be busy that day. As will your mother and Phoebe.”
Phoebe? Lauren glanced at her fiancée. She was sure Catherine’s sister planned on coming.
Catherine’s expression betrayed a flicker of surprise. “If Phoebe wants to come, she’ll come. She’s her own woman.”
Lionel gave a bark of sarcastic laughter. “Sure she is.” He looked her in the eye. “So, if it’s not personal, then what do you want? Need a job?”
“I like the one I have too much.” Catherine gave him a loaded look that Lauren couldn’t decipher. “Tell me about MediCache. What are your plans for it? I know you won’t be just stopping with sick veterans. Not your style. Too small.”
His look was sharp. “So, you want an interview? You should have called the office. Set something up.”
“I’m here now.”
“So you are.” He thought for a moment. “I’ll grant you one, but the condition is I do not want one of those disclaimers at the bottom. You know what I mean.”
Catherine tsked. “You know it would be unethical to interview you without revealing you’re my father.”
“Then I’m sorry. I find myself unavailable for comment.”
“However,” Catherine cut in, “Lauren is also a journalist, and obviously not related to you. She’d be happy to interview you in my place—and your inconvenient little secret about who your daughter is can stay safe.” She gave a knowing smile, and it was clear this had been her plan all along.
Oh, crap. Lauren’s heart began to race. She wasn’t prepared. She’d done no research into the man. He was only the boss of one of the world’s biggest technology companies and rarely gave interviews. Frantically, she thought through what little she knew about him. This would be a train wreck.