The Winner Takes It All

by Jennifer Dawson

  She opened her mouth but he held up a hand. “Let me make my point before we start talking about your family, which, let’s be honest, will take the rest of the drive.”

  She huffed, crossing her arms. “What’s your point?”

  “I’m not saying you can’t, I’m saying you don’t want to.”

  She pressed her body against the window. “You’re wrong.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not. I’ve never seen anybody less excited about fulfilling their lifelong dream.”

  “That’s not true,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m just taking a break. To rejuvenate.”

  Stubborn. He’d planted the seed, now he just had to see if it grew, or if she threw it out with the rest of the weeds. “Whatever you say, Cecilia.”

  He straightened in his seat, checked his side-view mirror, and when the coast was clear pulled out onto the highway. The car was silent, save the purr of the engine and blast of the air conditioner Cecilia seemed to keep at arctic levels.

  Five minutes passed before she huffed, “What kind of a name is Harper Holt?”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “I’m sure if you get to know her, you’ll like her.”

  “Not in a million years,” Cecilia said, her tone wry. She sniffed. “But I suppose you made your point.”

  He took her hand and brought her fingers to his lips. “If it makes you feel better, like you, I really did have these plans in place before we . . .” He winked at her. “You know, whatever this is.”

  She stared at him wide-eyed. “How is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “It wasn’t completely out of spite.”

  She started fidgeting in the bucket seat again, all that nervous energy twisting away inside. “Why did the two of you break up?”

  “We were better as friends. We both grew up in working-class families on the South Side. Because of that we tend to find the same things insufferable, so when we don’t have dates we help each other out.”

  “And that’s it?”

  He knew what she was really asking but was too proud to admit, and he put her out of her misery. “I’m not going to lay a finger on her if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “You’re not?”

  “Nope.” He shot her a menacing glance. “Just like Miles isn’t going to lay a finger on you.”

  She looked at him like he’d suggested she jump off the George Washington Bridge. “Of course not.”

  He shook his head. Didn’t she see how wrong it was to marry someone she couldn’t even stand the thought of touching? Frustration gnawed inside him. He wanted to pound some sense into her, but he couldn’t. She had to figure this out on her own. He wasn’t going to be the one to talk her out of it. “Then we understand each other.”

  She nodded.

  He squeezed her fingers. “I want you to do something for me.”

  “What?”

  “Saturday, I have to visit my aunt and I want you to come with me.”

  “You want me to go with you?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  She scooted over and put her head on his shoulder. “Okay.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Good girl.”

  She elbowed him in the ribs but she laughed. “You’re impossible.”

  They fell into a comfortable silence that passed for five miles before she sighed.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “You know, I do realize how fucked up this is.”

  He squeezed her thigh. “Just as long as you know.”

  Shane had dropped her at home, leaving her alone to stew in her own restlessness before that evening’s benefit. He’d had errands to do, a meeting with the mayor, and things to catch up on now that he was back in town. After a mind-blowing kiss that’d had her plastered against the wall and breathless, he’d turned on his heels and left. Now she wandered around the house, which seemed empty and cold, and didn’t have the slightest idea what to do with herself.

  Shane’s words kept playing in her brain over and over, like a broken record.

  He was right.

  Ever since she was six, all she’d had was the single-minded goal of running for office. It was the one driving pursuit that had kept her fed and moving forward when things got tough.

  When she got lonely.

  But all this time she’d never stopped to ask the real question: Why? She’d studied great politicians her whole life and they had passion and conviction in common. Where was hers?

  What did she want to accomplish besides checking it off her lifelong to-do list? Her mind was blank.

  She blew out a frustrated breath. She’d like to blame the trip to Revival and Shane, but that wasn’t the truth.

  Why hadn’t she asked about Miles’s motivation? What was in it for him?

  Well, there was only one way to find out. She picked up the phone and scrolled through one of the many missed calls until she found Miles’s number.

  It rang three times before he answered with his customary clipped hello.

  She wanted to throw up at the sound of his voice but made sure her tone was modulated and controlled. “Hello, Miles.”

  “Cecilia, darling, so glad you called.” There wasn’t even a trace of agitation that she’d been avoiding him.

  “How are you, Miles?” she asked, all of her defense mechanisms kicking into high gear. And she could feel it, her old, regular self slipping over her.

  “Very well, dear.”

  She tried to picture him. His dark hair was touched with gray. His brown eyes were sharp with intelligence and his face handsome enough. But she had no sense of him. She was supposed to marry this man. They were supposed to live in the same house and share a life and she didn’t even know his birthday or his favorite color. She frowned. They were strangers.

  And he seemed as content as she to keep it that way. “Have you gotten my messages?” he inquired, his tone all business.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t returned your calls. With the wedding, things have been hectic.”

  “I understand.”

  Who was this man? And what did he want from her? Because men like him always wanted something. She propped her hip against the counter, putting her palm on the cool, untouched marble surface. “Miles, why are you marrying me?”

  There was a pause over the line before he answered. “We all know you’ll do better in your campaign if you’re married.”

  Her bullshit radar pinged, loud and clear. She narrowed her eyes. “No, why are you marrying me?”

  “A relationship with your family will prove valuable for my business.” It was smooth. One of those practiced evasions they were all so good at.

  “How so?”

  More silence. She watched the digital clock tick by.

  Finally, he sighed. “Your father is on various energy committees that will potentially impact my business. It’s in my best interest to keep him as an ally.”

  “And you have to marry me to do that?” It sounded good but didn’t quite add up.

  He laughed, one of those polite business laughs, nothing like the boisterous sounds Shane made. It barely touched Miles’s lips, let alone his belly. “I have no interest in regular women. My first love will always be my company. Now, if we can move on to the business of this evening, I do have a meeting I’m running late to.”

  How was she not a “regular” woman? she wanted to ask, but was smart enough to know the conversation was over. At least for Miles. She, on the other hand, intended to do more digging. A tiny thrill shot through her, the way it always did when she had a puzzle in front of her that needed to be unraveled. It was one of her favorite parts of her job. “Yes, this evening.”

  “I’ll come fetch you at seven.”

  What, was she a dog? “Very well,” she said, her voice calm and collected. “I’ll see you then.”

  “Make sure you look your best, darling. People are watching.”

  She wondered what he’d say if she gave him a nice little �
��fuck you,” but instead forced a smile on her lips. “I am my father’s daughter.”

  “Yes, you are.” Tone way too pleased, he disconnected.

  Cecilia didn’t like it one bit. They were up to something and, boy, hadn’t she made it easy for them?

  As soon as she hung up she called her father.

  He answered on the second ring and said in a hushed, angry voice, “Where have you been?”

  “In Revival,” she said, her tone holding a distinct chill. “Where you sent me.”

  “One second.” All background noise ceased and she knew he’d put her on mute. She waited a full minute before he came back on the line. “What exactly has gotten into you? Do you know how many times we’ve called you?”

  She ignored the question. “What is Miles Fletcher getting out of marrying me?”

  “What?” His voice rose and she envisioned the florid flush on his face. “We are in crisis here. Your mother is threatening to file for divorce. We need you here to help deal with the fallout before it hits the paper.”

  She straightened, steeling her spine and squaring her shoulders. “No. Answer my question.”

  “What the hell does it matter? He’s going to get the job done and help you on your little campaign. Be thankful and focus on the real issue here.”

  She wrenched back as though he’d slapped her. The truth hit her in the face and stung. He was humoring her.

  She narrowed her gaze. “I suppose the real question is, what are you getting out of this?”

  “Cecilia,” he said, his voice tinged with the edge of panic, “listen to me. Your mother wants to divorce me. How are you going to help fix this?”

  Incredulous, she shook her head. “Fix it yourself.”

  She hung up.

  She turned to stare out the window, ignoring the ringing phone. What exactly were they up to? Oh, she believed Nathaniel was in a panic and needed her aid. After all, getting him out of scrapes was what she did best. But that didn’t negate the fact that she was right. Miles and the senator were getting something out of their unholy union that had nothing to do with her bid for congress. That was just a happy coincidence.

  Now it was only a matter of finding out the truth.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Shane kept his eyes glued to the long, red carpet laid at the entryway of the Field Museum, waiting for his first glimpse of Cecilia, and virtually ignored his date.

  Harper elbowed him in the ribs. “All right, what gives?”

  He jerked his gaze away. “Huh?”

  “You’ve been acting strange since we got here. What’s going on?” Harper looked as stunning as ever in a floor-length, strapless dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her blond hair was piled on top of her head, highlighting the slim curve of her neck and high cheekbones. She looked lovely, and normally he enjoyed her company, but all he could think about was Cecilia.

  Where was she? Would he be able to contain himself when she got here?

  He took a sip of his watered-down drink. “Nothing.”

  She smiled, her red lips curving. “Who is she?”

  His mind flashed with images of Cecilia. Her hair a wild mess after he’d run his hands through the whiskey strands. Storm-blue eyes glassy with passion after he’d kissed her.

  And that mouth. That goddamn mouth that would be the death of him.

  His cock stirred and he shook it off, reminding himself summer Cecilia wouldn’t be here tonight. The ice queen would be in attendance. He’d like to believe it would make the night easier, but that was a lie. He knew her secrets now. Knew who she was under the mask.

  The last couple of days at the farmhouse had been hell as he kept his physical distance. He increasingly ached for her and he’d be claiming her tonight.

  He shrugged. “No one.”

  “Sure,” she said, then smoothed her dress. “Good thing we’re no longer dating so I don’t have to be jealous.”

  Time to change the subject. He tilted his head to the side. “How’s work?”

  She laughed, but the sound didn’t shoot through him like Cecilia’s did.

  Fuck. It was official. He had it bad.

  “It’s like that, is it?” Harper waved a hand. “It’s fine. Just landed a huge client that promises to be some pretty cutting-edge technology.”

  “Tell me about it.” His mind drifted to all the things he planned to do to Cecilia the second he got her alone. Truly alone in a way they hadn’t been for way too long.

  There wasn’t one person to interrupt him.

  Harper fingered a sparkly necklace around her neck. “You’re already not listening.”

  “Sure I am,” he said, his gaze stealing to the clock. Cecilia should be here by now.

  “You’re officially the worst date ever,” Harper said, her tone good-natured. Thankfully they’d been friends longer than they’d tried dating and she wasn’t perturbed by his lack of attention. There hadn’t been anything but comfort between them for a long time.

  He shifted back to the entryway. Streams of well-dressed, overly coiffed couples filed in, dressed in black. Impatience roiled through him. He wanted her here. Now.

  Then she was.

  And it knocked the breath right out of him.

  He broke into a sweat.

  Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

  He was going to kill her.

  He’d been wrong. The ice queen was nowhere to be seen. Summer Cecilia was here and she looked absolutely drop-you-to-your-knees gorgeous.

  Her dress was a pale, shimmery color that looked like she’d been dipped in white-blue ice crystals. It glided over her body, plunging down to her navel before skimming over her lean but now healthy frame. Gone was the pale, tired-looking Cecilia, and in her place stood this goddesslike creature.

  A violent possessiveness coursed hot in his blood, mixing with his insatiable desire, throwing him off balance. The urge to throw his jacket over her beat an irrational rhythm in his chest.

  “There she is,” Harper said, startling him from his thoughts.

  “What?” he asked, still unable to take his eyes off Cecilia. Her hair was down, tossed in waves that made her look sexy as hell. He wanted to run his hands through it. Fist it tight and force her into admitting she was his. And only his.

  Harper said something, but it was too distant to pay attention to with the blood rushing in his ears.

  The only thing marring Cecilia’s perfect image was the man on her arm.

  Miles Fletcher was all wrong for her. He looked like her damn father. Watching them walk down that carpet, smiling and stopping to talk to people, violated the laws of nature. That should be him. Them. All vows he’d made to play it cool tonight diminished in an instant.

  He was fighting for her.

  He wouldn’t cause a scene, but goddamn it, she belonged with him.

  And nobody was taking her away.

  Cecilia spotted Shane the instant she walked in the room, staring at her with that look in his eyes. The one that said he wanted her. That he was coming for her.

  The dress had been worth it. She’d taken one look at the dress she’d originally planned to wear and discarded it, picked up her keys, and gone shopping. The second she’d spotted the dress, she’d known.

  The expression on his face confirmed everything she’d thought when she’d tried it on.

  Even from across the room, she could feel the heat rolling off him in waves, feel his predatory nature stalking to the surface.

  She shivered, and Miles frowned down at her. “Didn’t I say you’d be cold in that dress, dear?”

  She ignored the comment. As she’d ignored all the comments he’d made since he’d picked her up. A society-rag photographer stopped her, and she plastered a smile on her face as he took a picture of Miles and her.

  She got it. He didn’t like the dress.

  Well, she wasn’t dressing for him.

  She’d dressed for Shane.

  She’d waited anxiously as they made thei
r way around the room with false cheer and a plastic smile. Kissing cheeks, doling out compliments, and making small talk with endless groups of people. The act was so second nature she could do it in her sleep.

  You look lovely.

  How are your children?

  I heard about your (insert accomplishment). How wonderful.

  On. And on. And on.

  But something had changed; she could barely remember why this was important. Why any of this mattered.

  The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that she didn’t want to go back. Oh, she loved politics, that was true, but she wasn’t sure she loved being the main event.

  She’d think about it later. Right now she had to make her way through this crowd to get to the only man that mattered to her at the moment.

  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she stood in front of Shane and his date. The woman was a stunner in black. Together, with their golden blond hair and strong features, they made a striking couple. Jealousy reared up then died a quick death when Shane narrowed his gaze on her. All threat and heat and promise. He nodded. “Cecilia.”

  “Shane.” Was that husky voice hers?

  Their gazes locked, and held, far too long to be polite.

  Miles jostled her elbow, breaking the hypnotic stare. She plastered on her biggest smile before turning to Shane’s date. “You must be Harper. Shane’s told me about you. I’m Cecilia Riley.”

  The woman’s eyes widened, her lips curving into a knowing grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. How do you know Shane?”

  Cecilia met his gaze. “My brother is marrying his sister. We’re going to be family soon.”

  One brow rose up Shane’s forehead as his expression turned smug. “I suppose that’s true. Interesting.”

  Miles shifted at her side, his cold fingers tightening on her elbow, a signal he expected an introduction. She cleared her throat. “This is Miles Fletcher.”

  “Cecilia’s fiancé,” he said, holding out his hand.

  She cringed at the word and Shane’s shoulders stiffened.

  Harper’s expression widened. “Is that so?”

  “Yes.” Miles put a hand on her lower back and his fingers pressed against her bare skin. She had to stop herself from recoiling. He turned to Shane. “Are you taking care of my girl in Revival?”