“We’ve got time,” Martin said. “Eventually, she’ll let her guard down, slip up at some point. Everyone does.”
“What exactly is it you’re hoping will happen?”
Martin held up his hands. “I told you, I’ve got no intention of exploiting the woman. But it’s no secret that Addie and her father parted ways with no love lost, and nobody knows where the hell she’s been for the past few years. If anyone’s got dirt on Brennan, it’s her. And I’d bet both nuts she’d be the only one bold enough to spill the dirt.”
“You had a vasectomy. Do you even need the nuts?” Robert asked innocently.
Martin gave him the finger.
“All right, let’s say she does have dirt,” Robert said, picking up his sandwich when his stomach rumbled. “And let’s say there’s enough bad blood between her and her father that she’d be willing to go on the record to say what she knows. Why the hell would she tell us?”
“Not us. You. It’s long past time you put that pretty face to use with a woman.”
Robert tossed his sandwich aside once more. “I’m not going to seduce a woman for information. This isn’t wartime, and I’m not a damned secret agent.”
“Fine. But you’re too smart not to know we’ve got to keep an eye on this girl. For all we know, she and her father have mended things, and she showed up with an agenda to get close to you.”
“Well, then, great plan on bringing her into my office so I could hire her to plan a party in my fucking house,” Robert said.
“Keep your enemies closer, and all that. So you hired her?”
“Tried to.”
“What do you mean, you tried to?”
Robert shrugged. “She said she had to check her schedule. To be honest, I’m not holding my breath. I know a blow off when I see one.”
Martin looked nonplussed. “She said no to the opportunity to plan the send-off party for the most popular mayor in the history of the city?”
Robert shrugged, because truthfully, he was a little impressed that she hadn’t jumped all over the opportunity to work with him. Too often he found himself wondering if the people who surrounded him even liked him, or if they were there for what he could do for them. Exposure. Bragging rights. Or everybody’s favorite euphemism for kissing ass: networking.
Adeline Blake had wanted nothing to do with him, and that fact had been surprisingly enticing.
His campaign manager exhaled. “Robbie. We ran another focus group this afternoon. Everyone still adores you, but everyone also adores the governor and are hot for the fact that he has more experience. I know you don’t like it, but son . . . we need to know what that girl knows.”
Chapter Four
Wednesday, September 30
Ultimately, Robert wasn’t exactly sure what drove his decision to seek out Adeline Blake: a desire to see if Martin was right about her having inside knowledge of her father’s misdeeds, or a different sort of desire entirely.
He didn’t even know which was worse, given her real identity: political motivation or personal interest.
He did know that once he made the decision and got into the car, regret was nowhere to be found. Only anticipation.
As mayor, he made it a point to spend as much time as possible out of the mansion. In order to run the city, he had to know the city. As often as his schedule permitted, he took lunches in Brooklyn, made on-site appointments in Queens and the Bronx, even tried to make it out to Staten Island to talk with the law enforcement officials in their backyard, not his.
But as much as Robert considered himself an expert on New York City, he had to admit that the trendy SoHo neighborhood was a bit of a blind spot for him. As a centerpiece of the New York fashion world, it was best known for its high-end shopping. And since Robert wore mostly suits, and had most of those custom made by a local guy in the Bronx, he rarely had cause to visit the stylish neighborhood named for its location south of Houston Street.
Today, he definitely had a reason. And her name was Adeline Blake.
The town car pulled to a stop, and Robert glanced in surprise out the window. “This is it?” he asked his driver.
“Yes, sir. The address you gave me is just up on the right.”
Robert glanced in the direction Tim pointed and saw only an expensive-looking storefront with purses in the window. It didn’t look like a quintessential office space, but then, few things in New York City looked like what they should. And he trusted Darlene enough to know she wouldn’t have given him the wrong address.
Climbing out of the car, he nodded at the bodyguard who was already patiently waiting on the sidewalk. Robert had a rotating set of NYPD officers who served as his security detail. They were all exceptional officers, but there was one man whom Robert trusted with his life above all others. He’d first hired Charlie Wilkiers on his own dime in the months leading up to the first mayoral election, when threatening letters had made it increasingly clear that a higher profile meant a higher risk. He’d hired Charlie first and foremost as a bodyguard, but the man had also become a trusted friend over the years.
“Looks like it’s on the second floor above the shop, sir. Gayle’s already upstairs, finishing her sweep,” Charlie said, opening the door.
“Thanks,” Robert said. He seriously doubted there was much in the way of threats in an event planner’s office in SoHo. Especially one who didn’t know he was coming. But he respected the necessity of the routine.
The elevator looked small and slow, so Robert opted for the staircase up to the second floor. There were two doors, one for a therapist, the other labeled JET SET EVENTS.
He nodded at Gayle, a petite redhead who looked like she couldn’t lift a doughnut, but who Robert had once seen take down a purse snatcher twice her size.
He opened the door to Adeline’s office and blinked in surprise. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting when he’d pictured entering her domain, but it definitely wasn’t this. The space was spacious and minimal, and yet unmistakably feminine. It wasn’t fussy in a way that would make male clientele uncomfortable, but the deep red and black color scheme, the throw pillows that looked like some sort of faux fur, and even the lush-looking area rug gave the entire room a sumptuous feel.
“Hello! How can I—” The receptionist behind the front desk broke off as she glanced up and saw him more fully. She bolted to her feet, her rolling chair shooting backward. “Oh my goodness. You’re the—Oh my gosh!”
“Don’t salute,” he instructed with a friendly smile, when he saw her right hand fluttering around her side.
She put the same hand to her chest with a nervous laugh. “I was so about to do that. How did you know?”
“It happens more often than you’d think,” he said to reassure her, and because it was true. Most people didn’t know what the heck to do when they came face-to-face with an elected official, especially one with as much authority as the mayor.
“Mr. Mayor?” she said, taking a tentative stab at the right address.
“That’s me. And you are . . .”
“Cordelia.” She pulled her chair back in, less flustered now. “I’m so sorry, did you have an appointment? Both Becky and Luciana have off-site client meetings. Adeline’s in, but meeting with someone at the moment.”
Robert’s gaze scanned the office space behind the reception desk, noting that there were three doors. Two off to the left with the nameplates BECKY MERIDAN and LUCIANA RODRIQUEZ on the doors, the other with Adeline’s name. All three had EVENT PLANNER printed in small letters beneath their names.
He smiled wryly, wondering if she’d talked to her employees about taking him on as a client, or simply decided he was too-many-Excedrin worth for any of them to deal with.
“Do you know how long Ms. Blake will be?” he asked Cordelia, nodding toward Adeline’s door. “I’m happy to wait.”
Cordelia sat back at her computer and, a couple of clicks of the mouse later, glanced up. “The client that’s in there now is scheduled until three
, but I’m happy to check with her when she’s done and give you a call if she’s got a moment.”
“I’ll wait,” he said, gesturing toward the plush seating area.
“Oh,” she said, with enough panic in her tone to have him pausing. “Actually, Adeline—Ms. Blake—prefers that her client meetings not overlap. It ensures everybody’s privacy.”
He smiled in bemusement. “She’s an event planner. Aren’t parties by their very nature un-private?”
She gave a small smile that told him there was plenty he didn’t know about this world, and her next words confirmed it. “You’d think,” Cordelia said. “But for a lot of people, the entire reason for hiring an event planner of Jet Set’s caliber is the exclusivity of it. Everyone wants their party to be the event of the year. Let’s just say it keeps things simpler to keep people separate.”
“Ah. Politics. I’m vaguely familiar.” He winked, and she giggled. Robert found himself wishing Cordelia’s boss found him half as charming.
Still, he must not have been that charming. Adeline’s assistant seemed very determined to throw him out.
“What if I promise to sit there and close my eyes when the current client comes out?” he said.
Cordelia smiled politely but stubbornly. “There’s a great coffee shop around the corner. Or I can recommend a handful of restaurants nearby, and I’d be happy to give you a call if and when she’s available.”
Huh. No special treatment, then. Robert was strangely impressed, even though the agency’s rules were mucking with his agenda of seeing Adeline.
But he understood as well as anyone the importance of organizing the flow of people in the appropriate manner, so he nodded. “She has my number. Tell her to text me when she gets a spare moment.”
He put subtle emphasis on when. There was no if about it. Robert fully intended to see Adeline Blake again. And soon. But he didn’t want to hound her assistant about it, especially since he was already going to be on one woman’s bad side for showing up without an appointment—he didn’t want to annoy two.
Robert had turned toward the door, resigned to grabbing a coffee around the corner as he’d been instructed to do, when Adeline’s office door opened to the soft sound of feminine laughter.
He turned back just in time to see Cordelia’s eyes go wide in panic at the realization that she’d failed to adhere to her boss’s rules of no overlapping clients. Robert felt for the receptionist, but short of diving for the door, there wasn’t much he could do—both of the other women had already spotted him.
Adeline’s laughter died on her lips immediately when their gazes collided.
The other woman’s smile remained, although it turned catlike, almost calculating, as she studied him. She was beautiful, in a statuesque kind of way. Tall and thin, with sharp, pale patrician features adding to the impression that she should be carved out of marble and haughtily looking down at museum patrons in the Louvre.
“Mr. Mayor,” the woman said, with none of the nervousness or awe he usually encountered from people he’d just met. “What an interesting surprise.” She all but purred it, her curiosity palpable. “Are you a client of Adeline’s, or are you here for more personal reasons?”
It was an inappropriate question, uttered by a woman he was betting didn’t believe societal rules or niceties applied to her.
Adeline’s lips pressed together slightly, and he knew he’d stuck her between a rock and a hard place. She hadn’t taken him on as a client, and though he fully intended to change her mind, he wouldn’t do so by trapping her. But neither did he want rumors of them dating floating around. For him, it’d be political suicide if her real identity was ever leaked. For her, well . . . judging from the scowl on her face, she’d just as soon die as be connected personally to him, even allegedly.
So, he used a go-to political trick and threw up a smoke screen.
Letting a slow smile develop, he stepped toward the woman. “I’m afraid you have me at the disadvantage. You know me, but I don’t know that I’ve had the pleasure.” He may have let a deliberate amount of charm slip into his voice.
Adeline apparently heard it, and saw it for what it was, because she rolled her eyes behind the other woman. However, his target either missed or welcomed his maneuvering, because her smile turned even more feline as she stepped toward him and extended a hand the way a queen would to a subject. “Melora Manchester. We haven’t met personally, no, but I believe you knew my late husband?”
Robert hid his surprise, but just barely. Hank Manchester and his first wife—a kind, if opinionated elderly couple who loved New York City almost as much as they’d loved each other—had been one of his biggest campaign donors for his first term. Judith Manchester had passed away suddenly, shortly after Robert had been elected, and though he vaguely remembered hearing that Hank had remarried, he’d never met the second wife, though he’d heard rumors that she was much younger than Hank. Seeing the second Mrs. Manchester now, he saw that his sources had understated the age difference. This woman didn’t look a day over forty, but Hank had passed away at eighty-six a few months back.
His smile never wavered as he shook her hand, trying not to be irritated that she held his grip much longer than necessary. “I’m sorry to hear about your husband. He was one of this city’s treasures.”
“My treasure,” she said, setting her left fingers to trembling lips.
He didn’t want to assume her grief was forced, but the lack of wedding ring didn’t exactly sell the grieving-widow routine. Neither did the unmistakable invitation in her eyes a mere three months after her treasure’s passing.
“It was a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Mrs. Manchester,” Adeline said, apparently deciding she’d had enough of the show, and plainly dismissing the woman. “I or one of my colleagues will be in touch by the end of the week regarding the celebration of your fiftieth.”
Robert bit back a laugh at the murderous look Melora shot Adeline over her shoulder. Adeline merely smiled politely, but he’d bet the age-drop hadn’t been accidental.
“Please do,” Melora said, her forehead smoothing out once more as she turned back to Robert. “I think I’ll very much enjoy being on your roster.”
Robert maintained his smile, though he was tempted to tell the other woman that if there was any room on Adeline Blake’s roster, he’d be taking the spot.
Adeline gave Melora a noncommittal smile. “Cordelia will make sure we have your updated contact information. Now if you’ll excuse us, as you can see, my three o’clock is here.”
Adeline stepped aside, giving Robert room to slip past the scheming widow and enter her office. Her professional smile never left her face, though her eyes narrowed just slightly as they met his, and he knew he’d gotten past her gates only on a technicality. He was the lesser of two evils when compared to Melora.
“Your three o’clock appointment, huh?” he said under his breath, after he’d stepped into her office and she’d closed the door behind him.
“Don’t get excited,” she muttered. “It’ll most definitely be your last.”
Chapter Five
Wednesday, September 30
Adeline didn’t bother to soften her glare as she rounded her desk. “A surprise drop-by, Mr. Mayor? I have to admit I thought you were above that.”
“I hadn’t heard from you. Thought you may have lost my phone number.”
“It’s been twenty-four hours,” she said in exasperation. “I told you I’d check our availability and get in touch.”
He merely grinned. “May I sit?”
She didn’t bother to reply since he was already taking a seat.
The majority of Adeline’s clients were women, so she didn’t get a lot of men visiting her office. The mayor should have looked out of place in the feminine space, but instead he looked perfectly at home in a gray suit and blue tie, sitting in her leopard-print guest chair. The business side of Jet Set might be Adeline, but the office itself was pure Addie.
&
nbsp; She’d known from the start that getting an event planning business off the ground in a crowded, competitive market like New York would mean long hours. And if she had to spend long hours in a place, she wanted to love it, and she wanted it to look like her brand. Lush, expensive, and extravagant.
Ultimately, it had taken most of her savings and left next to nothing for furnishing her tiny one-bedroom apartment, but a little more than a year into her business, she was already starting to see the payoff. Much as women like Melora Manchester drove her crazy, they had deep pockets, bustling social lives, and a distinct penchant for exactly the type of luxurious feminine branding Adeline’s office conveyed. It was the same reason she’d spent an exorbitant amount of money on silk-coated business cards with rose-gold embossing. It wasn’t just about passing along her contact information. It was about selling a style. A style that she wasn’t at all sure how to fit to the extremely masculine presence sitting across from her.
“So, Mr. Mayor. What is it you hoped to accomplish by this uninvited office-crashing?” she asked.
“Harsh,” he said with a grin that showed he wasn’t the least bit offended. In fact, the man looked exceedingly pleased with himself. “But to answer your question, I’m looking for a simple yes or no, Ms. Blake. Actually, that’s not true. I’m looking for a yes. But if you are going to peddle me a no, I need to know sooner than later so I can make alternate arrangements with a competitor.”
She carefully hid her frustration, not at him, but at herself. Adeline wanted to say yes for the right reasons. Because planning a party for the mayor and current Man of the Year was a résumé booster a smart businesswoman simply wouldn’t pass up. A black-tie event, with what she was assuming would be an unlimited budget, unless rumors of the mayor’s wealth were exaggerated, was exactly the sort of game changer a still-new company like hers should leap at.
Yours in Scandal Page 4