Legally Mine (Spitfire Book 2)

by Nicole French

  I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my room, going over my elegant transformation. Mary had also styled my hair, pulling it half up in a small bouffant with a French twist. I wore Brandon's cuff and a pair of diamond studs that were my college graduation gift from Bubbe, but otherwise kept the rest of my look simple, with natural make up and a bit of lip gloss.

  "You look amazing, chick," Jane said as she came to stand next to me.

  "You don't look so bad yourself," I said.

  Jane patted her hands over her dress, which was a midi-length tea dress in a blocked red, white, and black pattern. Even though it was much more conservative than her usual Goth-punk style, she had still managed to maintain her edge with at least six different chunky silver rings and a pair of black Mary Janes that looked right out of a steampunk novel. She grinned and touched her bob, which had been tamed straight.

  "Don't mind if I do," she said.

  From where she was finishing packing up the rest of the clothes, Mary nodded satisfactorily. "I think my work here is done," she said.

  "Thank you so much, Mary," I said, walking over to give her a brief hug. "We look amazing, and it's all thanks to you."

  "Thank your man," she said with a grin. "Oh! That reminds me––I almost forgot. He told me to give you this and make sure you put it on."

  She pulled a square velvet box out of her purse and opened it up for me.

  "Holy shit," Jane breathed over my shoulder.

  I couldn't even speak. Inside was a wreath of diamonds so bright I was practically blinded. The low lighting in my room flickered off the many facets, casting tiny rainbows all around the walls.

  I blinked. "There must be some mistake."

  "Oh, I would never make a mistake about Harry Winston," Mary replied haughtily. She set the box on my bed, then gestured that I should face the mirror while she placed the necklace around my neck. It fell just to my collar bone, perfectly setting off the fifties-style neckline.

  "Now, this is just a loan," she said with a cheeky grin. "Mr. Sterling was adamant that I tell you explicitly. He thought for some reason you'd be upset if it was an actual present, though why you wouldn't want a gift like this, I'll never know."

  "It's beautiful," I whispered as I drifted my fingers over the necklace, then down the silk fabric of my dress.

  I looked like a completely different person. But I also looked like someone who could stand next to Brandon and look like she belonged. Gone was the tired, bedraggled almost-attorney with the worn-out jeans and the braid that was constantly falling out. Gone was the girl who couldn't deal with a man even paying for her dinner, let alone jewelry. I was glad to see her go if it meant I could be proud to stand next to Brandon.

  "Hey, you guys almost ready?" Eric popped into the room, still fixing a cufflink. He caught a look at me and smiled appreciatively. "Damn, Crosby. You clean up nice."

  "What am I, wilted spinach?"

  Eric glanced at Jane next to me, then did a double-take. Almost immediately, his face turned the color of my hair. He tugged at the collar of his shirt and licked his lips. He took three massive strides to Jane before seeming to realize that they weren't alone in the room, then stopped to adjust his cufflink again.

  "I think," he said to Jane with another look that would have burned through metal, "I'll have to tell you exactly what I think of that dress later."

  Jane opened her mouth, then closed it with a smirk. "I guess you will."

  With a curt nod, Eric looked back to me. "It's time. There's a car downstairs."

  I picked up the matching clutch and shawl that Mary had provided and took a deep breath.

  "Into the lion's den we go," I said.

  "Don't worry, Sky," Jane said as she shepherded us all out of the apartment. "Brandon made sure you had armor for this battle."

  I could only hope she was right.

  ~

  Chapter 37

  This wasn't like the quiet, yet extravagant fundraiser I'd attended with Brandon a month ago. That event had been designed to be explicitly under wraps, held in a place where the rich and powerful in New England could gather without the press hanging over them.

  The Burnside Hotel, however, was chosen for the exact opposite reason. A press horde clamored around the main entrance, where posh Bostonians were walking up a short red carpet to attend the gala. I didn't see Brandon, but we had already discussed that he would arrive on his own. His rumored announcement was the big news of the evening, coming on top of Miranda's Globe and People features.

  Cory was holding a service elevator when we pulled up in the underground parking lot. His eyes bugged considerably when he caught a load of my necklace.

  "Jesus!" he exclaimed. "When I said First Lady, I meant Nancy Reagan, not Marie Antoinette."

  I touched the jagged edges of the wreath self-consciously. "Is it too much?"

  "Abso-fucking-lutely not," Jane said adamantly as she looped an arm through mine. "Captain Manners here clearly doesn't know shit about fashion. Mary would have told Brandon if it were too much, Sky." She glared at Cory. "Would your boss like being compared to an eighteenth-century boy-king? Just wondering."

  Just another reason why I was so glad to have Jane in my corner tonight. Cory's face turned the color of a tomato, but he just punched the button of the elevator.

  "Sorry," he said as the doors closed.

  Jane relaxed. "That's more like it."

  Eric just shook his head, bemused, and gave Cory a "what did you expect?" kind of look.

  Cory escorted us to a ballroom set aside for the event. Although my name was in the Globe, no one as of yet had published any pictures of me, so Cory had arranged for my name card to read "Ellen Chambers", using my middle name and my mother's maiden name as a decoy.

  The room was mostly full already, swirling with black-tie attendees dressed for one of biggest political fundraisers in Boston. I had already recognized several people, including local celebrities, senators, and the governor. I was grateful that Brandon had made sure there would be a few friendly faces in the crowd for me too; it couldn't have been easy to procure tickets for Eric and Jane last minute. Margie must have been on the phone all day.

  Across the room, I caught the notice of Kieran, who stood talking to a few men, dressed similarly to them in a sleek black tuxedo of her own. She gave a brief wave and a smile––well, as much of a smile as Kieran was ever really capable of––and returned to her conversation.

  "Come on, Ellie," Jane joked as we wove our way to one of the octagonal tables set up near the dance floor.

  It wasn't quite the table of honor, which was in the center of the room, but it was close. Brandon's name was on a card at that table, right next to another one I recognized as we passed it: Miranda Sterling.

  "Oh, fuck" I breathed as I caught sight of the elegant cursive writing.

  Jane leaned over my shoulder, and her eyes widened.

  "What the hell?" she asked in disbelief. "Do you think he knows?"

  I shook my head. "No. He never would have demanded I come if he'd known. He probably wouldn't have come himself." I pressed a hand to my cheek. "Jesus, like Groundhog Day, but a really awful night instead."

  The tall, willowy form of Brandon's estranged wife was nowhere to be seen, but as soon as my eyes landed on the ballroom entrance, the entire frame was occupied by Brandon's broad shoulders. He raised a hand with a smile that was immediately clouded when he caught the look on my face.

  Jane murmured something about her and Eric getting drinks and skirted away.

  "Hey," Brandon said as he approached. "What's wrong?"

  He looked camera-ready in a gorgeously slim-cut tuxedo that wasn't much different from every other man in the room, but Brandon made them all look like shadows. Cory had turned a stylist on him too; he'd clearly had a haircut and a shave in the last twenty-four hours. His usually tousled blond waves were shortened and tamed into something approximating a respectable politician's. Which, of course, was exactly what h
e was trying to be.

  But nothing could tame the color of his eyes, the way they popped in a sea of black tuxedos. I realized at that moment that I'd chosen my dress precisely because it was the same color: the color of the Mediterranean, of a lake on a summer day. The color of the sky.

  Wordlessly, I pointed to the small card sitting on the table. Brandon's eyes followed. His handsome jaw dropped.

  "What the fuck..." he wondered under his breath as he picked the card up and examined it as if it were a figment of his imagination. He looked up. "I had no clue about this, Skylar. I never would have come if I'd known she would be here."

  I believed him, but his obvious concern was reassuring.

  "I know," I said. "And it's Ellen, by the way." I nodded at a few of the cameramen setting up in one corner of room.

  Brandon's worry, however, dissipated a bit as he took in an eyeful of my outfit. Despite the obvious stress he was under, his mouth quirked with a sly smile.

  "You look...wow." He reached out and touched the wreath of diamonds around my neck lightly, then traced his fingers over my collarbone. "I'm glad you wore this."

  I touched the same spot. "It's beautiful. Too much, but beautiful."

  Brandon shrugged with another shy half-smile. "I'd like to get you one of your own one day. When I know you'll actually accept it."

  He cocked his head, looking at me like I was a painting in a museum, a work of art. Slowly, however, his gaze started to heat up with a fire that quickly had me blushing bright red.

  "You need to stop looking at me like that," I whispered, even as he picked up my hand and started to run his thumb over my knuckles. From far away, his touch would have looked innocent, but up close, it was anything but.

  "Like what?" he asked, making absolutely no movement to stop, neither the touch nor the heated look.

  "Like you want to eat me for dinner."

  He bit his bottom lip, as if trying to process the comment. Then he released my hand, but leaned in. A bystander might have thought Brandon was telling me a quick secret, but they wouldn't know how his freshly shaved jaw felt when it rasped against my cheek, or the effect of his feather-light touch over my shoulder. It didn't matter that I had just spent the last two weeks straight with the man. Instead of quenching that thirst, it had only made it stronger.

  "More like dessert," he rumbled into my ear, which he nipped lightly. "Your pussy's too sweet for anything else."

  He stood up straight with a complete shit-eating grin spread that popped his dimples out in full force. I stared at him, my jaw dropped practically to the floor.

  Brandon smirked as he dropped my hand, which fell against the silk of my dress like a limp fish. "You want me to reach up your skirt and prove it to you, Red? I could make you lick it off my fingers."

  My eyes bugged out even further. "You did not just say that to me in a building full of politicians and donors! There are literally two congressional representatives and an attorney general in this room right now."

  "You don't even want me to start on all the dirty things that dress is putting in my head," Brandon said with another sharkish leer. "But now you're not thinking about this anymore, are you?" He held up the card bearing Miranda's name and took a few backward steps toward the ballroom entrance. "I'll be back after I take care of this mix-up. You just keep thinking dirty thoughts about what I'm going to do to you later. With nothing on but that necklace."

  With a wink, he spun on his heel and left me clutching the side of the chair. Suddenly unable to stand properly, I decided now was as good a time as any to take a seat at my table when Eric and Jane returned with drinks for all of us.

  "Everything okay?" Jane asked, glancing back to where Brandon had gone. She handed me a glass of white wine, which I took gratefully.

  "I think so," I said. "He's...taking care of it."

  It felt strange to say that when I didn't know exactly what he was going to do. But I was ready to trust Brandon.

  "Well, hello there!"

  I turned to find Ray and Susan Petersen approaching. I stood up to give Susan a quick, but tight embrace, and she held out my arms to look me over.

  "My, my," she said as she looked me over. "Aren't you a vision, Skylar."

  "Thank you, Susan," I said. "You look great too."

  She smiled, clearly happy with the flowy floral dress that draped over her small, squat form. I gave Ray an awkward kiss on the cheek. He looked as much a grumpy professor as ever in a stolid, if somewhat faded navy suit.

  "Brandon is taking care of a mix-up with the guest list," I said as we took our seats. "He has to sit at a major donor table tonight, but I'll be here to keep you guys company."

  Ray snorted. "Of course."

  "These are my friends from Harvard, Jane and Eric," I said, ignoring the comment. I gestured at Jane and Eric, who both stood up briefly to shake the Petersens' hands.

  "All lawyers?" Susan asked kindly as she accepted a glass of champagne from one of the roving waiters while Ray muttered something about a beer.

  Jane nodded. "Yes, ma'am," she said. "Just graduated with Skylar. Now we're just waiting on our bar exam results."

  "Oh, that's exciting!" Susan replied, clasping her hands together. "I thought about becoming a lawyer at one time. Until I met this old curmudgeon, anyway."

  Ray just looked dourly at his wife, but I thought I saw a fond twinkle through his smudged glasses. Jane bit her lip, while Eric stretched an arm back behind her chair.

  "Hey there!"

  Brandon reappeared at the table and leaned down to kiss his foster parents hello before coming to stand behind me.

  "Are you ready for your big night?" Susan asked excitedly. "Do you have a speech prepared?"

  Brandon patted his breast pocket. "Right here. Cory and I were up all night finishing it."

  He rubbed his forehead, the only sign I'd seen yet that he was nervous. But when he put his hand on the back of my chair, I could see the whites of his knuckles.

  "You're going to be amazing," I said, giving him what I hoped looked like a friendly pat on the hand.

  He looked down at me with gratitude, and captured my hand briefly with a tight squeeze before anyone in the room could see. Soon the waiters would start to serve dinner, after which would be a few speeches before some dancing. That was when Brandon would be making his announcement. He downed the rest of his drink, which looked like bourbon.

  "Careful there, slugger," I said. "You should probably eat something."

  "Red," Brandon said quietly as he took another long sip of his drink, "I love you. But I swear to God, baby, you need to let me drink tonight."

  Before I could reply, there was a kerfuffle at the ballroom entrance that caught our attention.

  "What do you mean, I'm not on the list?"

  A woman's voice rang out, clear and sharp, even over the din. Just past the doormen and the woman holding a clipboard, I could see dark hair, porcelain skin, bright pink lips.

  My stomach dropped. Miranda Sterling.

  Brandon sighed, tipped back the rest of his drink, then set it on the table next to me. "I'd better go deal with this," he said, and stalked off without another word.

  Our entire table watched as he entered the fray, and I saw Miranda's eyes, dark and sharp, perfectly lined and mascaraed, as they caught sight of Brandon's tall form. They brightened. Then they found me and turned venomous.

  "Jesus," Jane breathed beside me. "If she were Medusa, you'd be stone right now."

  I shuddered. Right now, Miranda was scarier than a mythical monster with snake hair.

  I grabbed my clutch. "I should probably go."

  "Oh, please don't," Susan piped up across the table.

  Jane and I turned to find Susan staring at the entrance with obvious disgust.

  Susan looked back at me and smiled. "She's just so...so..."

  "Horrendous," Ray supplied dryly.

  He raised a faint, white brow at me. It was probably the most positive reinforcement I'd ever r
eceive from the man.

  "Exactly," Susan chimed in. "Petty and vicious, and she's had Bran practically locked up in that big ugly house for years. She's just mad now that he's finally moving on, whether she wants him to or not. And with someone as lovely as you, no less."

  "Susan––" I started. I appreciated the votes of confidence, but that didn't mean me being here was a good idea.

  "No, no, no," Susan continued. "Truly. He wouldn't be here tonight if not for you. He always hated the spotlight. You've got to know how you brought him out of his shell."

  "She's leaving," murmured Jane, who hadn't stopped watching the scene over my shoulder.

  When I looked back, Miranda had disappeared, and Brandon was making his way back toward our table.

  "That's done," he said when he arrived, although he still didn't sit down.

  I gulped. "Really?"

  I hated the fact that I couldn't give him the hug and kiss he clearly needed, but there were already a few members of the press being escorted to a designated area by the ballroom's podium, not far from our table. Brandon nodded with a sweet smile my way, but made no move to touch me. It looked like it caused him physical pain.

  "She's on her way home. But just to be safe, you should probably leave after the speech, Red. No doubt she'll tip off the paps that you're here."

  I blanched. "Okay."

  He looked across the room and waved to someone who was apparently beckoning at him. Cory was standing next to a group of other men in tuxedos, some of whom I recognized from the last, disastrous benefit.

  "Time to kiss some donors' asses," Brandon muttered. "I'll be back when I can."

  I watched him leave, and the ball of dread in my stomach grew. When I looked back to the table, I found Susan watching sympathetically while Ray stared with obvious disapproval.