by Meghan March
Now that’s interesting.
I didn’t have time to dwell on the thought when a warm hand pressed against my lower back.
I glanced over my shoulder…to find Lucas Titan.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed.
“I believe I was invited.”
“This wasn’t on your list.”
“Because I’d already been invited, and I assumed you’d be here anyway.”
His arrogant confidence pissed me off. “Well since I didn’t agree to meet you here or act as your date,” I spat the word, “feel free to find others to mingle with.”
His jaw clenched, and his green eyes darkened. A frisson of fear rippled through me at his aggressive posture. “I thought we’d already had this discussion ad nauseam, Vanessa. The one where I tell you that you’ve got a lot more to lose in this situation than I do.”
I found my backbone and reinforced it with steel. “I’m going to tell Archer. When he gets back on Monday. So your leverage is gone, Titan.”
His jaw relaxed into a feral smile. “Oh, Vanessa. Don’t try to play games you can’t win. All it would take is one phone call.”
“You’re such an asshole.”
“Better play nice.” I calmed the urge to slap him by sucking in a slow, deep breath and releasing it. I’d promised Con that I wouldn’t go to another event with Lucas. Promised him I was done playing this role. This game. This farce. And now I was breaking that trust. I squeezed my eyes shut for a beat. I just needed to brazen this out.
“I need a drink,” I said, turning for the bar. Lucas’s hand never left my back as we worked the crowd until we reached our destination.
When Lucas opened his mouth, presumably to order for me, I held up a hand. “I’ll have a gin and tonic, please.”
Lucas’s raised eyebrows cemented my plan to get just tipsy enough to make this bearable, but not so drunk as to make a spectacle of myself.
I thought it was a workable plan.
Three G&Ts in, and I was feeling much better about the state of my life. Lucas had disappeared to discuss business with someone, and I was in desperate need of the ladies’ room. Carefully making my way down the stairs to the lower deck, I found the facilities.
After double-checking that I still looked mostly presentable, I exited and headed back up the stairs, staring at my feet to make certain I didn’t miss a step.
I reached the top and ran directly into my father.
“I’ve been wondering when I’d get a moment of your time tonight, my dear. How about another drink with your old man?” he asked, leading me toward the bar.
I followed dutifully, but I was getting sick of being led around this boat like a damn horse. First Titan and now my father. “A club soda with lime for me, please,” I told the bartender. It was probably time I lay off the booze.
My father ordered a scotch—over my objections about his health—and paid for our drinks. “Cash bars are so tacky.”
“But they help make sure the cost of the event is defrayed so that the donations go toward the cause they’re supposed to be supporting.” I thought the words came out coherent, but my father eyed me suspiciously.
“You’ve had a few.”
I was doubly glad I hadn’t ordered another.
“It’s the Fourth of July. I guess I was in the celebratory mood,” I replied.
A knowing look spread over his face. “And here I was hoping you were celebrating your new man.”
I froze.
He couldn’t know. I looked down at my club soda and sipped, trying to hold it together and come up with something to say.
But my father kept going, “Although Lucas Titan isn’t the one I would’ve picked. He’s an arrogant bastard. Doesn’t understand how things work around here. But if he’s your choice, I suppose he and I can have a come to Jesus talk and settle our differences.”
My head jerked back, and my glass almost slipped out of my hand. Lucas. He’s talking about Lucas. Not Con. I should have been happy that my secret hadn’t been discovered, but with the initial shock of his words had come a sense of relief—relief that I could finally stop hiding it.
But no. And now I had to dig my way out of this.
I cleared my throat and fumbled for an answer. “It’s not what you’re thinking. Lucas and I aren’t—”
My father’s expression hardened, and he steered me toward a break in the crowd and an unoccupied corner of the deck. “I said I wouldn’t have picked Titan, but I can find my way to approve of him. If it’s not what it seems, then maybe you should work a little harder to make it what it seems, Vanessa. You’re not getting any younger, and your mother would be rolling in her grave to know that you still haven’t settled down. So unless you’re going to steal Simon Duchesne off the arm of that tattooed trollop he’s here with, you better go find Lucas Titan and get to work.”
I gritted my teeth, and fought to hold back the angry words bubbling up inside me. I’d had enough tonight. Somehow I managed to regain my composure and force a smile. Monday, I thought. Monday.
“I’ll take your suggestion under advisement, sir.” I turned my back on my father and strode to the bar.
So much for not needing another drink.
I thought I heard him say my name, but I didn’t slow. Fourth G&T in hand, I crossed the deck, smiling my fake smile and laughing the fakest laugh to ever leave my lips.
I made my way to the railing on the complete opposite side of the boat from where my father stood. I still didn’t see Lucas, which was a relief.
I did, however, see Simon and his Charlie. My father might have called her a tattooed trollop, but it seemed that every man’s eyes were on her tonight. She looked stunning. And what’s more—Simon looked happy.
When I got close, Simon reached out an arm to steady me. I hadn’t realized I was wobbling on my heels. So much for pretending I was sober.
Charlie held out a hand and said, “I’m Charlie. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
I loved the swirling colors of ink running up her arms, and I thought about the tattoo on my hip. My hidden secret.
“I’ve heard so much about you, Charlie.” And I had—from Simon himself and a little from Con. “I’m so glad to finally meet you too.” I shook her hand and added, “You’ve found yourself a good man. Don’t let him get away.”
Both Simon and Charlie eyed me carefully, and I wondered if I was slurring my words. I straightened, attempting to look decidedly not drunk, but caught my heel on a gap in the planks of the decking and stumbled. My drink sloshed onto the floor, narrowly avoiding Charlie’s shoes.
Neither Simon nor Charlie missed my stumble and resulting beverage foul.
Simon asked, “What’s going on? You seem a little…”
My face burned with mortification. I was officially that girl. Might as well own it.
“Drunk? Then mission accomplished.”
Simon and Charlie maneuvered me into a corner, presumably to keep me from making an even bigger fool of myself in public. Lovely.
“What the hell is going on, Vanessa?” Simon demanded.
I lifted my glass and sucked back the last of my drink. Fuck it. I tossed it over the railing and smiled as it hit the water of the Mississippi. And then I realized I’d just littered. Crap.
I looked up to see Simon waiting for an answer. He was a good man. She really did need to hold on to him.
“Nothing you need to worry about, Simon.” Movement over his shoulder snagged my attention. Lucas Titan. Heading toward my father.
I had to get out of here. And I surely didn’t need my father to see me with Simon either. God only knew what conclusions he’d draw.
“I think I’ve had enough festivities for the evening. It’s time for me to go. Especially if you don’t want my father to think you’re still potential husband material.”
My words caught them both off guard, but I was more worried about getting off the boat.
Simon came to the rescue once again—be
cause he was a genuinely good guy. “Let’s get you a cab then. Unless you want us to see you home.”
I didn’t need to ruin their night because I couldn’t get control over my own.
“No, a cab is fine.” I turned to Charlie and whispered, “Treat him right; he’s one of the good ones.” I thought about threatening to harm her if she hurt him, but restrained myself.
Simon took my arm, and he and Charlie led me down the ramp, across the dock, and through the crowd to a cab. Simon gave the driver my address and paid him. I waved lamely as the cab pulled away and began to inch through the traffic.
One thing was for sure though: I wasn’t going home.
I gave the cabbie a different address.
I wasn’t sure what happened last night on that fucking steamboat, but the after effects on two of the most important women in my life made me wish I could have been there to throw some punches.
Vanessa had hammered on the door, and when I’d opened it, she’d practically fallen into my arms. The scent of gin coming off her had been intense. When I’d tried to get answers she’d just mumbled gibberish. The woman could not hold her liquor.
After she’d puked her ass off in my bathroom while I’d held her hair back, I’d forced her to down a glass of water. She’d already been passed out by the time I’d tucked her into my bed.
And then Lee had shown up. She’d let herself in, dead calm and determined. Her requests had been simple, and there was no way I could refuse her. I’d pulled my Tahoe out of the alley garage behind Voodoo, and we’d gone back to her place. She’d packed one bag, and we’d loaded up her mutt. I’d watched her drive off, and Huck, her giant of a dog, was left sleeping in his crate in the break room.
And then Simon had shown up. It was like a fucking revolving door. The only upside was that Vanessa had slept through it all. I wasn’t sure that she was ready to tell Duchesne about us, and I wasn’t going to do it for her. Besides, the man had already had a hell of a night.
One thing I knew for sure: Vanessa was going to be answering my questions this morning.
Which was why I was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting like a schmuck for her to wake up.
It was almost eleven, and she was going to miss her standing Sunday brunch with Elle. Although I didn’t expect she’d be interested in eating when she woke. She was going to have a hangover to rival all hangovers.
She rolled, and a groan escaped her parted lips. Her eyes fluttered open, and I reached for the glass of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand. This wasn’t my first rodeo.
Vision focusing on me, Vanessa lifted a hand to her face and rubbed. “When did I get hit by a truck?”
“It wasn’t a truck so much as a truckload of gin.” I offered her the pills and water. She took them and swallowed dutifully.
She collapsed back onto the pillow. “Oh my God. I feel…this sucks.” She rolled onto her side to face me. “Why did I drink so much?”
“That’s what I’ve been wondering since you showed up last night.” I thought for a moment about telling her about Charlie and Simon and decided that now probably wasn’t the best time. I reached for her phone instead. “You might want to text Elle and let her know you’re not going to make it to brunch.” I paused. “Unless you are planning on going. It’s already ten forty-five.”
She groaned again. “No. Definitely not going. I’m never eating or drinking again. Ever. Never. Ever.”
I smiled. I wished I could take away the hangover, but even I didn’t have a miracle cure. “You’ll change your mind eventually.” I held out her phone, my thumb bringing it to life.
I couldn’t help but read the text message on the screen.
“Who’s Chief Fuckwit?” I asked. “Because he wants to know what the hell happened to you last night.”
She sat up quickly at those words. Too quickly, because she grabbed her head with both hands.
“Shouldn’t move so fast, babe,” I reminded her.
She reached out blindly for her phone, and her reaction had my curiosity spiking.
“Chief Fuckwit?” I prompted.
“Can we talk about that later?” she asked.
Now I really wanted to know. But I took pity on her condition. “Fine.”
She tapped out a text to Elle, who replied immediately to say she had a raging hangover as well.
“Was Elle there last night?” I asked as Vanessa cuddled back under the covers.
“No. But Simon and Charlie were. She seems really nice. From what I can remember through my drunken haze.”
“You’d be right about that. Lee is a good woman.”
“You’re the only one who calls her that, aren’t you?”
“Told you, I like nicknames.”
“Don’t I know it.” Then she started to ask, “So how long were you and her—?”
“It’s ancient history, babe,” I replied before she could finish the question.
But it was the perfect opening to fill her in on what had gone down last night with Lee and Simon. I laid it all out for her. “Holy shit” was her only response.
“Yeah.”
We both sat in silence for a few minutes, but there wasn’t much we could do about the giant shitstorm that was about to rain down on those two.
“What are your plans for the day?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Sleep and tell myself repeatedly that I’m never drinking again.”
I chuckled, softly, so as not to hurt her head more. “You sleeping in my bed?”
“Do you mind?”
“Not at all. I’ll bring you some lunch later.”
She threw a pillow at me as I stood and crossed toward the door. “Don’t talk about food. It’s just mean.”
I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as I made my way downstairs to work on the books and take Huck for another walk. I liked this. A lot. These regular moments that anyone else would take for granted? They meant everything. Even with wild bedhead and grumpy with a hangover, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
That was when I realized I was in love with Vanessa Frost.
Your weekend slips by quickly when you spend an entire day in bed. But given the state of my hangover, there was absolutely nowhere else I would’ve rather been—because I was in Con’s bed.
Monday was long, and I spent it gathering my courage and reinforcing my confidence. Archer would be on my side. There was no other acceptable outcome.
I waited for the building to empty out before I strode from my office to Archer’s. I lifted a hand to knock on the closed door, but two voices stopped me.
Archer’s, which wasn’t surprising.
And Lucas Titan’s.
That asshole. I hadn’t responded to Chief Fuckwit’s text, and I’d also forgotten to tell Con after he’d let the question drop. I’d tell him tonight. But first…
I moved closer, trying to catch their words.
But the words I caught were not at all what I expected to hear.
“I finally pried the accounting records out of the hands of the CFO on Friday. I wanted to make sure we were on target for budget, and if we weren’t, how much more we’d need to raise to hit it. And you know what I found when I finally dug into them yesterday? Your CFO had already booked a bequest from a Mrs. Iris Mayes for the month of June.”
My brain stumbled over Lucas’s statement. Iris Mayes? I’d read this morning that she’d died in a car accident on the Fourth of July. She’d been the chairwoman of the Junior League, and her death had been big society news. Her funeral wasn’t being held until Saturday because her huge family had to travel from all over to get back to New Orleans.
Either way, I wasn’t following where Lucas was going with this.
“What’s your point?” Archer’s words were clipped, impatient.
“My point is she died on the Fourth of July, Archer. Not in June when the entry was booked.”
I blinked. That didn’t make any sense. It must have been an accounting error.
Lucas’s words turned sharper. “Nothing to get excited over? Did you know that her bequest put the foundation just over the mark to hit our fundraising goals for this fiscal year? And cemented our place on your Top Fifty Most Influential Foundations list? I did the math—that’s something I’m good at—and without that bequest, we might have still made our budget, but there was a good chance the Bennett Foundation might have gotten knocked off the list.”
“I neglect to see your point, Titan.”
“Well, Archer, let me see if I can make it a little more clear: I went back to the CFO this morning with another request for your historical accounting records. I’ve spent my day digging through the last few years, and I noticed a really strange pattern. So I went back farther, about ten years. And you know what I found? A lot of conveniently timed deaths and accompanying bequests in the fourth quarter of the fiscal year. I compared those years to the threshold to hit your precious list. The evidence is pretty damning.”
“What exactly are you saying, Titan?”
“I’m saying that I think once is a windfall, twice is quite a stroke of luck, but six times is impossible. And probably criminal.”
The words impossible and criminal ricocheted through my brain. There was no way in hell Lucas’s accusations could have any merit. No. Way. It didn’t make any sense. It had to be a coincidence. Didn’t it? My hopes were crushed when Archer spoke again.
“What do you want, Titan? How much to forget everything you saw.” The words were like a fist to the gut. An admission of guilt, if I’d ever heard one. I covered my mouth to stifle a gasp and staggered to lean against the wall.
“What makes you think I have a price?” Lucas asked.
“Everyone does.”
“You’re a piece of work, old man.”
“It’s nothing anyone else in my position wouldn’t do. Sacrifice one for the good of thousands.