“Nicole, you are far too genuine to ever be Stella.” He lowered his voice. “And you are not mentally ill.”
“I know now. I am curious, though. How did you meet her? Do you know when her obsession started with you? I heard her story, a lot. What do you remember?”
He stared at the ocean swells as his shoulders tightened. “Stella. I met her at a bar on Boylston Street and we were both underage. She had a fake ID and bought me and all four of my friends a beer. She talked about Gigi and how my now sister-in-law loved my brother. She acted like we were friends in school, though until that day we’d never spoken.”
He stilled. She nodded. “Please go on.”
He shook his head and tried to show her his smile. He leaned further toward the patio. “Then at church I said hello, and the next thing I know, she was everywhere, all the time. She watched me half the time. Other times, she popped out of the bushes or trees just to follow me.”
“She didn’t say hello?” Nicole’s gut churned. It felt like a thousand bricks hit her hard and fast as memories rushed at her like a football tackle. “Your family has always owned a yacht?”
“Yes.” He stared at her. “Why?”
“Was one called the Sweet Escape?” She held her stomach. Her sister had been naked.
“She left all her clothes in my sheets.” She remembered. She inhaled sharply as he continued, “My mother didn’t believe me that I didn’t have a girl in my cabin.”
Her sister’s insanity was something she had tried to forget. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why?” He stared straight at her. “What do you remember?”
She covered her mouth as he leaned closer. The words bolted through her: “I was fifteen and had my driving permit. I should not have been driving. It was after hours. Stella drove us to the docks one night and left me in the car. An hour later she came back without a stitch of clothing on, dropped the keys in my lap, and told me to drive.”
“Did she tell you we’d had sex?” Gerard placed his hand on her knee, and didn’t give her a moment to answer. “I wasn’t even on the ship.”
She took his hand in hers and squeezed. “She said you’d get the message now.” She shook her head. “I tried so hard to put my memories behind me. Gerard, how are you at this table with me?”
“Don’t apologize. Nicole, you are not Stella. For one, you talk to me.” He squeezed her hand, and her muscles loosened. “And you aren’t afraid of saying no. You’ve a kind heart and take care of your sister. What I remember most about Stella was how her big, vacant eyes followed me. I never felt comfortable, not like how I feel with you right now.”
She too felt like she was with someone she could be herself with. In California she’d never had this kind of feeling. “You like to stare at me?”
“That’s part of the pleasure of your company.”
She massaged his muscular arm. “Thank you. I will help you win this election.” She let her shoulders roll around. “I like being home. Here, helping you, it’s like I returned to where I belong.”
“Nicole, you’re confusing me.” He lowered his voice. “You make millions in California. Don’t stay here for me.”
“It’s not you.” She hoped for the right words. “I need to be home, to be here, and helping you feels right.”
His jaw line held a wisp of an afternoon shadow, and it tickled her as he brushed against her forehead. She puckered her lips, leaned up, and kissed him. Her aching body became lost as he wrapped his arms around her and deepened their kiss.
This was heaven.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Gerard
Gerard opened the door to his condo in the old Navy Yard in Boston and stretched. As he loosened his necktie, he stared at this empty condo. He’d not sleep yet. Every thought was on Nicole and not campaign strategy.
He stormed out and walked across the street to a local tavern. He crossed his arms as the cold autumn wind brushed through him, and then went inside.
As the door flew open, he stared at the bar and the stools near it. The third man in next to an open seat was Joseph Boroni. The old man drank his beer. Gerard decided to hit the record button on his phone as he nodded and said. “Joseph.”
“Collins.” The older man sat back. “Until this weekend, I hadn’t taken your bid for the Senate seriously enough.” Joseph signaled for the waiter. “Get my friend a beer.”
A beer with the man he wanted to help bring to justice. Gerard’s heartbeat thundered in his chest. If he gave his brother Liam any information, he’d announce a major end of corruption right here, in the city. Gerard took the offered seat and nodded. “What changed?”
The bartender opened the beer bottle and handed it to him. “Your new girlfriend and your sudden interest in press conferences,” Joseph said.
The press had been surrounding them. “The one where all they asked was are we dating?”
“Nicole Wyman is a name people know. My son knew her sister, I hear.”
“Stella?” Joseph knew more about him then he’d prefer. He sipped his beer. “She’s been ill a long time. How did you know her?”
“Sebastian, my son, dated her.” Joseph sipped his beer. “You picked the far prettier one.”
Gerard gulped his beer. At least Stella had moved on from obsessing about him. He averted his gaze and let that thought wash away. “I don’t want to talk about Nicole with you.”
The old man patted his shoulder like they were friends. “She’s under your skin already. That’s usually the most lasting. So we’ll talk about the Bruins. They’re my next hope after the Pats.”
Gerard’s hands shook and he placed down his empty bottle. Then he motioned to the waiter for another.
Another beer appeared, and he turned toward Joseph. With a smile, he asked, “I have tickets to the game on Saturday I can’t use now. You doing anything important?”
“You offering me your tickets?” Joseph raised his eyebrows.
Gerard sipped his beer and refused to flinch. He needed to record what Joseph’s excuses might be. Liam had said something about a drug shipment. “Yeah. You interested?”
“I can’t.” Joseph shrugged and sipped his beer. “I have plans already.”
Vague, but Gerard hadn’t expected him to say “delivery.” “See you Saturday night, then, at the big debate.”
“I’ll be there.” Joseph winked. “Italians have to support our brothers, and yes, I’m voting for Cecchi.”
“The Irish are similar.” Gerard nodded. “We value our own.” The old man left, and Gerard gulped his beer. Done, he crossed his arms and walked out of the bar to go home.
Nicole needed to stay far away from this part of his life, until everyone involved was behind bars.
He slammed his door as he entered his empty apartment. It was better this way.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Nicole
Nicole tossed on her brand-new bed in her old room. Gerard had been distant on the drive home. She groaned and sat up in her bed as she stared at her old ceiling. The guilt that she hadn’t discussed this with her sister ate at her. She found her phone and dialed the hospital. “Can I speak to Stella Burns?”
The attendant asked, “Who’s calling?”
It was better to get this over with. “Nicole Burns, her sister.”
“One moment ma’am.” The cheesy music played in the background as Nicole sat and stared into the mirror on the wall. For a split second, the reflection showed her she was still that gawky brunette teenager. Now her blonde locks were her trademark. The woman then came back. “She cannot speak to you right now, ma’am.”
Nicole sighed. “Can I speak to one of her doctors?”
“One moment.” Again the horrible music played, and then a man answered, “Doctor Reyes, how may I help you?”
“How is my sister doing now that Gerard Collins’ name is front-page news?”
“She seems to be doing extremely well. She’s calm and hasn’t mentioned him during her sessions.”
“Good.” Though this didn’t make her stomach uncurl. Her heart raced less, though she needed to get fresh air. She stood and stared at the red and brown leaves that blew across her yard. “Thank you, doctor. Please let me know if anything changes.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
After fast goodbyes, she pocketed her phone. Then she threw her clothes on and went outside. The bite in the air from the wind pummeled her skin.
On her way into town, she slipped into a store that held the wind at bay. It was still early, but they were open. She grabbed a winter jacket and paid for it.
She swallowed as she returned outside. Indian summer was ending now. Again the harsh wind promised a bitter fight, but she’d persevere.
She checked her phone and the schedule of the the purple line so she’d get to South Station in Boston. Technically it was the commuter rail, but everyone called it the purple line. She’d entrust her hair to an expert.
She called for a hair appointment as she waited for the train. She stopped and stared at her missed call log. Gerard’s campaign headquarters.
Her heart soared. She dialed fast, and a moment later someone answered, “Hello.”
She’d hoped to hear Gerard’s voice. She clutched the jacket around her throat as she swayed on her feet. “I missed a phone call. My name is Nicole Burns.”
“One moment. I’ll connect you to Barnie Whitesell.”
She wrinkled her nose. She had offered to work his campaign, so he must be the one that told her what she could do, officially. A moment later, he answered, “Nicole Burns?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Barnie, Gerard’s campaign manager. Can you come into the office today? I’d like to talk to you.”
She swallowed. “Of course. This afternoon around two?”
“I’m looking forward to meet you.”
She smiled. A campaign manager must answer to the candidate. “Me too. I want to help Gerard. Bye.”
***
She still smiled. She was in an exclusive salon in the North End, and two women fussed over her hair.
Done, she glanced at the clock. It was already two, so she was late.
Her pulse raced as she jogged toward High Street. She kept her head down and realized she’d agree to practically anything if it helped Gerard win. She’d make phone calls, go door to door, or set up parties for wealthy donations. She’d help.
The bell chimed as she rushed through the door. No one was at the front to take her name. She unbuttoned her jacket and clutched a necklace she wore.
Gerard wasn’t here. Her gut felt empty. She walked into the office and smiled. Signs and soda bottles littered the front room. She called out, “Hello?”
“Ms. Wyman?” a skinny man with glasses said as he stood next to Gerard’s office door.
“Burns. Nicole Burns. Nicole Wyman is my stage name.” She kept her hands clenched at her sides. “Why am I here? Where’s Gerard?”
“I made the appointment with you. Please sit.” He pointed to a chair in an office close to the front room. “I’m Barnie, the campaign manager, and there is something delicate I need to ask you.”
“I want to help in the campaign, if I can.”
“Gerard Collins would be the best possible choice our state has for respectability in the Senate.” The man coughed. “Is it true you went to the same church?”
“Yes, though he was three grades ahead of me.” She tapped her feet on the ground. “What is it you want me to do?”
“Marry Gerard.”
She froze. She must have misheard. Then Barnie flipped to a tablet with numbers listed on it and showed her a spreadsheet.
He then took the seat beside her and said something. She couldn’t hear anything. Marry Gerard? They’d agreed to date. Her throat went dry as Barnie said, “The numbers show you will help him in this campaign and in any other election he might run in the future. One day, I hope he becomes president.”
This wasn’t how she imagined she’d help. Her entire body grew tight as she sat there.
He said something about a tracking system. Her eyes narrowed on his tablet. The charts equaled the movie studios, from what she could make of the numbers.
Barnie said, “Gerard’s agreed. Politicians need stability, and a wife gives him that. Your career has been tasteful, and women respond well to you with Gerard. With you on his arm, he’d win this election in a landslide.”
“He agreed?” Her skin electrified as her heart lifted. Last night had ended fast, and something serious was on his mind. She coughed then shook her head. “No, he couldn’t have. Gerard is much too straightforward and honest. He’d never agree to a marriage of convenience to win an election.”
“How your marriage works would be up to you.”
She played with her necklace. If it was best for his career, then they could speed up dating. She shrank in her seat. “This fast move is not in his character.”
Barnie clutched his tablet. “You met him at Ollie’s the other night?”
She squinted. “Yes. Why?”
“Then you know why he was there. He has to get married to win.” She didn’t say anything, and Barnie opened another file with a pie chart. “His single status is his biggest liability. Politicians must be stable or no one votes for them. He needs a wife.” Barnie pushed a tablet to her to show her. “I spoke to Margaret Collins, his mother, the day pictures of you emerged, and she’d support you.”
The chart and its numbers didn’t matter. She clutched the tablet and kept her gaze at the figures. “Gerard’s agreed to this?”
The hair on the back of her head rose as footsteps echoed in the hall. Barnie stood, and she followed suit.
A moment later, Gerard came in. His eyes widened as he stared at her. “Why is Nicole here?”
The pang in her heart hit hard. She’d agree. Gerard and her felt too right to ignore for a second time.
Barnie pushed his glasses further up his nose. “Ms. Burns is about to agree to be the next Mrs. Collins.”
Gerard’s face turned red. His intensity amplified, and she couldn’t say a word. The silence clung in the air.
“I’ll hang his washing next to mine.” She squared her shoulders as she said the old-fashioned answer to an Irish proposal. This was it. If she supported him, she’d find the social goal she wanted.
Barnie scratched his head.
Gerard’s eyes widened. “You’d like to be buried with my people?”
He also knew the old traditional way to ask someone in Ireland. This felt way more realistic than any movie.
“Barnie, lock the door on your way out.” Gerard stepped to the side of his door to let his manager out.
He should have told her he had marriage on his mind last night. Her heartbeat raced.
Barnie grabbed his tablet from her and ran out of the room. She stared at Gerard the moment they were alone.
The door slammed shut. Her chest fluttered. He crossed his arms. “Do you truly want to help me?”
“What do you believe? Do you want to marry me?”
“Yes, but if it wasn’t for the polls, we’d have time.” He wrapped his arms around her and leaned forward to kiss her. “We don’t have to.”
She tilted her head. “I want to try.”
“With you, I can’t play pretend, and there is too much at stake.”
She whispered, “We both know you want me here. I’m willing to put this on the line and try to make a marriage work.”
“Why would you marry me for an election? I don’t understand.”
It was more than for the election, but she couldn’t put that into words. She felt this was her place, but that didn’t make sense. “I said I want you to win, and no, this marriage is not for you to win. It’s for our future together, if we have one.”
He held out his hand for her. She took it, and the skin contact sent her temperature skyrocketing.
“When we’re truly alone and no one can interrupt, there is something I have to tell
you.”
She swallowed. “So are we getting married?”
“Yes. I want you too much to say no.”
Then he closed his eyes as he held her. Now that he’d agreed, she had to act fast. Her heart was never this loud until this moment.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Gerard
If Gerard married Nicole, she had to listen to him. Not that his sisters-in-law Gigi or Kate listened to his brothers, but in this crime ring, he’d have to protect her. The Boroni crime family was to be avoided at all costs. He had never read about going after the wives and girlfriends in the dossier that his brother presented.
The electricity that charged through him when he touched Nicole set his mind in a different direction. He imagined his life as a senator with her at his side. He had let his boyhood dream of politics die as he learned how power corrupted people, until he had to make a difference.
Nicole fit in perfectly.
She pressed her hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”
They’d not end up in a political drama that ended in disaster based on selfishness. Nicole didn’t need to be with him, and because of that, she was a gem. “I’m picturing our lives, and honestly, Nicole, I’m scared.”
She laughed. “You’re going to have to learn to relax and not tense all the time.”
He ran his hand on his pant leg and stared at the floor.
“People are waiting for us.”
“I don’t want to face them yet.” He shrugged.
She took his hand and led him forward as she opened the door. “We don’t have much of a choice right now when it comes to the press. Barnie must have called a press conference.”
This wasn’t what he’d expected. “Tonight, stick to my side and don’t go anywhere.”
If he married Nicole now, then he needed a plan. His family in Hyannis had security. It was better than any government-offered security. There, he’d keep Nicole absolutely safe. Their lives in the past meant he had to take this seriously. She’d need a ring to let people know she was his, and he’d not allow anyone to hurt her.
Electing Love (The Collins Brothers Book Three) Page 7