The bad thing was, she wanted to believe him.
More than once these last few days he'd even come close to telling her he wasn't really Maximilian Steel, that Steel had been created from the ashes of his other life and he was starting to wonder what he was going to do when they no longer needed him.
He wanted to tell her about that day on the Mekong Delta and how he'd been put to the test and come up wanting. He wanted to tell her how that night had set into motion the thousands of nights that followed.
He wanted to say, "The man you love doesn't really exist," but he couldn't. He owed it to Ryder to keep his silence; he owed it to himself to hang onto happiness just as long as he could.
But Kelly--what exactly did he owe her?
She had his heart, no matter whose name was attached to it. She had his soul, no matter how black it might be.
The only thing she didn't have was the truth and sooner or later she was going to see for herself the ragged edges of Max Brody poking through the perfection of Maximilian Steel.
She deserved Steel.
No one deserved Brody.
#
Ryder returned on the morning of the twenty-ninth. Not even PAX could do anything about the weather and a snowstorm in New York had kept him up north longer than they'd anticipated.
Not that anyone had noticed.
Max and Kelly were floating along in some kind of romantic haze and he felt like the proverbial wicked stepmother when he dropped the bomb about Rio.
Viktor Maksymenko had snapped at the bait just as PAX had hoped he would. The idea that Maximilian Steel could be had was just too good to ignore. Ryder actually felt a pang of guilt over this twist in the master plan--betraying the fictitious Steel made him feel as if he were somehow betraying his friend Brody.
Things were getting more complicated by the second and he knew it was time to seize control.
"We're leaving tonight," he said to Max by way of hello. "The party is on."
"What in hell are you talking about?"
"Rio. Your annual New Year's Eve bash. It's on and we're out of here before midnight."
"No."
It was Ryder's turn to look shocked. "What do you mean, no?"
"I like it here."
"Sorry, pal, but I thought I explained it to you before: we don't always get what we want in this world."
Max stood up and leaned over Ryder's desk, a formidable sight if ever there was one. If Ryder weren't so tired he might have been intimidated.
"I have two more days with Kelly and I'm not giving them up."
"Nobody's asking you to. She's going along with us." He lit a cigarette. "Or have you forgotten the small matter of Sean Ryan and his cronies?"
"I haven't forgotten anything. This is just one lousy way to spend New Year's."
"As I recall, you used to enjoy the party."
"How am I supposed to explain this sudden change of plans?"
"Very carefully," Ryder said. "With as little explanation as possible. The caveman approach might be a nice touch."
In the blink of an eye Max had Ryder by the shirt collar. "Say something like that once more, O'Neal, and you're history."
Ryder tugged free. "I don't know what I said in the first place." He sat back down. "What's with you anyway? You're strung tight as piano wire."
Max said nothing, just paced the small office. He reminded Ryder of a lion he'd once seen at the old Central Park Zoo just before it mauled its trainer.
Not a pretty analogy but frighteningly apt.
"I'm in love with her," Max said finally. "How long do you think I can go on lying to her?"
"As long as you have to," Ryder said quietly.
#
Rio de Janeiro was every bit as beautiful as Kelly had been promised but it wasn't Tranquility Island and, because it wasn't, she hated it on sight.
Max had explained it was strictly business, this sudden decision to attend his New Year's Eve party. "It's being held anyway in my absence," he'd said when she pressed him for a reason. "Perhaps that is the best time to try out the skills you've taught me."
Since arriving in Rio this morning, she'd seen precious little of him and she pushed aside the thought that he might be trying to avoid her questions.
What had happened to his plans to go public after the first of the year?
What had happened to his plans to create excitement by not holding his usual New Year's Eve party then surprising everyone afterward with his decision to move his base of operations to the Big Apple?
Tears burned her eyes and she blinked them away.
What had happened to the wonder they'd found these past weeks at Tranquility?
"I don't understand," she'd said last night when he told her they were leaving. "This doesn't make any sense at all."
He'd held her in his arms in an embrace so tight she feared her ribs would snap. "Things aren't always what they seem, Kelly," he'd said and she shivered now at the memory.
"You're making me nervous, Max. What's going on?"
"I've made promises," he'd said cryptically. "Hold on until the first. Maybe then I--"
But Ryder O'Neal, the ubiquitous chauffeur, had chosen that moment to knock on their door and since then she hadn't been alone with Max long enough to ask him the time of day.
She pressed her face against the bedroom window and looked out at the gracefully curving beach. The litany of reasons why she shouldn't believe him played through her head.
Men are weak...men are fickle and spineless...they can't be trusted...
She had only to look at her own father to know the truth of that statement.
"Not Max," she whispered. "He's different."
He wasn't like Sean or her ex-husband or any other man she'd known before. She could trust him.
She would trust him.
#
Sean Ryan slept with his mouth open. He gulped in air like a drowning man then exhaled in staccato whistles that reminded Viktor Maksymenko of an old cartoon he'd seen on American television.
Sean Ryan disgusted him and Viktor was of the mind to cover the man's face with a pillow until he stopped breathing altogether.
Nice idea that, but impractical.
At the moment he needed Sean Ryan to effect entree to Steel's soiree tomorrow night.
He glanced across the aisle at the sleeping man. A pity. A man like that deserved to be put out of his misery.
Tomorrow night he would be.
Andree approached him. "We land in thirty minutes," he said with a courtly bow.
"Will a car be waiting?"
"Two cars," said Andree. "You and Ryan in the lead."
Viktor nodded. "Excellent work, Andree." The young man had that splendid middle-European attention to detail that had always fascinated him. He'd go far, Andree would. Very far.
The jet banked gently toward the east and Ryan shifted heavily in his seat then dived deeper into sleep. Viktor smiled to himself and absently touched his breast pocket. The vial was there as he knew it would be; this constant checking was a reflex action, the one sign of nerves he would allow himself.
Maximilian Steel said he needed proof of Viktor's power, did he?
Tomorrow night, during his glittering party, he would get all the proof he needed.
#
"Twenty-four hours," said Ryder O'Neal. "Is that asking so much of you?"
"Yes," said Max through the locked door.
"Answers like that make it tough for me to believe I can set you free, Max."
"You asked me a question and I gave you an honest answer. Yes, you're asking too much of me but no, I won't blow the deal for you."
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"You've trusted me for five years," Max said, wishing he had a file or a metal pick or something to dig at the lock on the metal door. "Why can't you trust me a little bit longer?"
"Kelly Madison."
"If you don't believe anything else, believe me when I say I'd never do anything to hu
rt her."
"Not good enough, Max."
"What do you want--blood?"
"That's exactly what I'm trying to avoid."
Max's stomach tightened. "I thought this party was just your way of making contact with Sean's boss."
Ryder was silent so long that Max wondered if he'd left.
"That's what we thought," Ryder said finally. "We were wrong."
Sweat trickled down Max's back. "Meaning what?"
"Meaning they're going to prove a point."
"Is she in danger?" If Sean Ryan were in front of him right now, Max feared he'd kill him with his bare hands.
"Hell," said Ryder with a hollow laugh. "This time we all are."
Chapter Twenty-seven
Kelly slipped on the diamond bracelet then looked at her reflection in the mirror.
The white dress shimmered against her body, falling in a gentle line from the right shoulder to the floor where her strappy sandals peeked from beneath the hemline. Her hair was piled loosely atop her head, held in place with an ivory pin that had once belonged to her mother. Diamond studs twinkled at her ears and the good luck charm from Max was pinned discreetly inside her bodice.
She looked poised, sophisticated, ready to welcome in the New Year with the cream of international society.
Who would ever guess her heart was breaking?
"You look beautiful."
That wonderful voice she'd come to love.
She whirled around to face Max who, resplendent in a tuxedo, stood in the doorway to the master bedroom.
"Fancy meeting you here," she said coolly. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd opted for New Year's Eve on Tranquility Island."
"If it were up to me, Kelly..." His smoked honey voice trailed off as she turned away.
"Isn't it?" she asked, fixing one of her earrings. "Last I heard, Max, you were one of the most powerful men in the world. Surely a trip to Florida isn't beyond your power." She knew she was being waspish and probably unfair but she couldn't stop herself.
He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "It's not that simple, Kelly."
"It never is, is it?" She met his eyes in the mirror."Ask your chauffeur. Maybe he can arrange something for you."
He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around to face him. "Don't push," he warned, his smoky voice low and fierce."There are things you're better off not knowing."
"Of course," she said, trying to break free of his grip but failing. "Keep the little woman in the dark. Is that part of your macho ethic?"
His grip on her shoulders tightened painfully but she refused to acknowledge it any more than she would acknowledge the tears threatening to fall.
"Tonight," he said, ducking his head so his lips brushed her ear. "Watch out for--"
"There you are." Ryder O'Neal burst into the room without so much as a knock at the door. "The guests are arriving."
Max released her instantly. "We'll be there in a moment."
"Now," said O'Neal, an ugly tone to his voice. "Some very important guests just pulled into the drive."
Fire him, Kelly thought. Make him walk the plank. Do something to show me I'm wrong about everything. Certainly this time the man had violated all rules of employer/employee relations.
But instead Max nodded and she stared at him, horrified.
"You're going to take that?" she asked in amazement. "He's insolent and rude and--"
"He's also right," said Max, moving closer. "Let's go."
She moved away from him. "You go. I don't feel much like a party."
Ryder O'Neal came up along her other side. "I'm afraid you do, Ms. Madison," he said, taking her arm. He nodded to Max who took her other arm.
Her heart pounded so violently she thought she'd be sick. "Max?" Fear sounded in her voice but it couldn't be helped. "What's going on?"
But it wasn't Max who answered; it was O'Neal.
"We're having a party, Ms. Madison," he said, propelling her toward the door, "and it wouldn't be the same without you."
"Max?" she said again, pleading. "Please tell me..."
He looked up and the haunted expression in his beautiful green-gold eyes told her more than she wanted to know.
"Listen to him, Kelly," Max said. "He's in charge from here on out."
The question was: in charge of what?
She didn't have time to pursue that thought because moments later she and Max were poised at the entrance to the ballroom while O'Neal gave them last minute instructions.
"You know what you have to do, Max," he said. "Keep cool. Let them come to you." He turned to Kelly and she almost thought she saw compassion on his face. "Circulate, Kelly. Try to have a good time and whatever you do, don't leave the ballroom without taking one of us with you."
"It would help if I knew what was going on."
Max's laugh chilled her blood. "No, it wouldn't, Kelly. Trust me on that one."
"Trust?" Her voice caught on the word. "Isn't that how I got into this mess in the first place?"
She refused to meet Max's eyes again and as soon as they were halfway into the ballroom she accepted a glass of champagne from a roving waiter and took a leisurely stroll around the room while she tried to regain her composure.
Max hadn't lied when he said his New Year's parties drew an international crowd. In just a few minutes she heard several Chinese dialects, upper New York State regional, schooled and unschooled French, and a score of variations on Portuguese that were enough to send a dialectician running for earmuffs.
The only thing the guests seemed to have in common was their manner of dress: the men all were elegantly attired in tuxes while the women were gowned in white. On the flight down to Rio Max had explained some of the ritual surrounding New Year's Eve in Rio.
The goddess Iemanja demanded homage that night and most women wore white in her honor and scattered gifts of mirrors and lipstick, perfume and wine for Iemanja on the shore.
Gazing out the French doors to the beach, she already saw the flickering candles along the shoreline and the bouquets of flowers resting in the sand as the Cariocas awaited the midnight hour.
A fire burned farther down the beach and the primitive sound of drums mingled with the music and the laughter in the ballroom. She wished she were down there on the sand with the candles and the drums and the demanding goddess.
Then she turned and looked into her father's empty eyes and wished she were anywhere at all.
#
Max watched as Sean approached Kelly. He saw the naked pain on her lovely face and the only thing that kept him from ripping Sean into a thousand pieces was the memory of the gruesome photos Ryder had shown him a few weeks ago of three victims of Ryan's superiors.
These guys played rough and if he wanted Kelly to welcome in the New Year he'd better listen to every word O'Neal had to say.
He recognized a number of the people in the ballroom. International types seemed to move from party to party in an endless stream of socializing that belied all reason. He nodded. He smiled. He toasted the upcoming New Year but couldn't be drawn into sustained conversation with Kelly across the room, listening as her father spun his lies.
"Senhor Steel?"
Max turned and his smile faded. "Yes. Do we know one another?"
The man was lean, with a hard predatory face that did not lend itself to smiling. "I am an admirer of yours." He paused as if taking Max's measure. "Sean Ryan was kind enough to include me in your invitation."
Max's gut twisted as if jolted by a cattle prod but he nodded pleasantly and extended his hand. "I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."
"Maksymenko," the man said as his gold ring cut into Max's palm. "Viktor Maksymenko."
Cool. Keep cool, Brody. Don't lose it now. This was the whole ballgame right here.
"I've looked forward to meeting you, Mr. Maksymenko."
"Viktor, to my friends."
"You have many of them?"
"A select few," Maksymenko said with a toothy smile
that never reached his eyes. "I tend to do business with most of them."
Max's gaze never wavered. "In that case, I hope we'll be able to do business."
Maksymenko inclined his head slightly. "That is my fervent wish."
"Your reputation precedes you, Viktor, but of course reputations can be misleading." His adrenaline was pumping full-force as he got into the spirit of the encounter.
"You're a clever businessman, Mr. Steel. Clever businessmen require proof."
"You can supply it?" I hope you're listening, O'Neal. Here comes the time and place...
"Tonight," Viktor said, his dark eyes gleaming. "Before midnight you'll have your proof."
Somehow he didn't think this was what PAX had in mind at all.
#
"We need to talk."
Her father's voice pierced her heart but she refused to turn and meet his eyes. "Go away," she said, raising the glass of champagne to her lips. "You're in Florida."
"Kelly." He clutched at her arm. "It is imperative that we talk."
"It is imperative that I find another glass of champagne."
She searched the crowd for another waiter, desperate for anything to keep her from meeting her father's pain head-on.
"You're in danger, Kelly," he said, his voice low and urgent. "I can help you--"
Her laugh was brittle as shattered crystal. "Only my bank book is in any danger, Sean." She forced herself to meet his eyes. "And the only way you can help me is by leaving me alone."
Hadn't he done enough? She'd needed his help when she was ten years old and afraid of the dark. She'd needed his help when she was fourteen and terrified of the changes happening in her body and the crazy emotions tumbling inside her heart.
And, dear God, how she'd needed him when her farce of a marriage crumbled and she was left with the rubble of her dreams.
There was nothing he could do to help her now.
He was light years too late for that.
"There are things you need to know, princess."
Fine Madness Page 18