by Meghan March
I couldn’t hold my tongue when I thought something was bullshit. I called a spade a spade. I didn’t know how my father had done it. He had some higher need for intrigue, machinations, and manipulation that I didn’t share. I’d entertained the possibility because he was so damn invested in it. I’d never been a disappointment to my father, but in this, I would be. It was time for him to face facts: I was not cut out to be a career politician.
Gut instinct told me it was the right decision. And once I’d made it, I could focus on the things I actually wanted to do: keep running day-to-day operations of Southern Cross, continue improving my hometown on the NOLA City Council, push forward with The Kingman Project, and figure out what a future with Charlie was going to look like.
I tossed back the rest of my scotch. I’d have to tell him tonight before he got any further down the road of campaigning on my behalf.
“Well, holy shit. Would you take a look at that?” Derek said.
I followed his gaze to the dock. A woman was strolling up to the boat wearing a siren red dress and black and red-feathered mask. Waves of black, red, and purple hair bounced with each step.
I dropped my empty glass on the tray of a passing server. “I believe that’s my date.”
Derek slapped my shoulder. “Better go after her before the sharks start circling.”
Several heads had craned in Charlie’s direction as she made her way up to the ship. Shit. She looked amazing. I pressed through the crowd to meet her at the railing as she stepped onto the deck.
“You’re here.”
She nodded. Her aqua eyes stood out even more brilliantly against the feathers of her mask. I bent to kiss her cheek, not wanting to smear her crimson lips.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. And I never thanked you properly for the dress. So thank you for that too.”
Charlie had fallen asleep in my arms that night without making it to the end of the movie. I’d carried her to my bed and tucked her in beside me. She’d been gone when I awoke, but the dress box had been missing as well. It had given me hope. Between my work schedule and hers, we hadn’t managed to see each other again until tonight. We’d spoken briefly last night, but the conversation had been awkward and stilted. Both of us dancing around the subject of tonight, and neither of us having the balls to bring it up. But she was here.
“You’re very welcome. Can I get you a drink?”
“Open bar?” she asked.
“Cash bar—it’s a fundraiser, babe.”
“Then you’re buying.”
“Done.”
We ate, mixed, mingled, and bid on silent auction items. Charlie charmed everyone she met. She had a knack for small talk and putting people at ease I’d never noticed before. If I was still considering a life as a politician, I couldn’t have picked a better conversationalist. It was like she was born to work a room. But I didn’t give a fuck about her ability to make small talk; I was just happy that she seemed to be enjoying the event and had instantly connected with Kingman’s widow. Although I guess I should call her Carina. Her husband was another active duty sailor. I gave her credit for taking the same risk again. Not everyone would be quite so brave.
I purposely maneuvered us away from my parents, not because I didn’t think Charlie could handle my father, but because I didn’t want him to piss me off and ruin the night. I’d say what I needed to say to him tomorrow. It would be soon enough.
Then I saw a familiar head of blond hair in the crowd. Vanessa. She had accompanied her father this evening, and I could hear his booming laugh from across the ship. He was a bull of a man who liked to keep everyone and everything under his thumb.
Charlie must have recognized Vanessa bearing down on us, because she said, “Should I be concerned that the claws are going to come out since I stole her man?”
I frowned. “Vanessa’s not like that. At all. So sheathe your claws, babe. She’s good people. I think you’ll like her.”
With the mask obscuring her face, I couldn’t exactly see Charlie’s skeptical expression, but I knew it was there all the same.
My brow creased as I studied Vanessa. She was wobbling on her heels and her cheeks were flushed. She was drunk. Which was completely out of character. I’d never even seen her tipsy in public. Ever.
I reached out an arm to steady her. Charlie seemed to pick up on the unusual nature of the situation and held out a hand. “I’m Charlie. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Her words weren’t snide; they were sincere and genuine, and I loved her for that.
“I’ve heard so much about you, Charlie. I’m so glad to finally meet you too.” Vanessa’s words slurred as she shook Charlie’s hand. “You’ve found yourself a good man … don’t let him get away.”
She stumbled, and the clear liquid in her glass sloshed onto the deck, just missing Charlie’s shoes. Another thing I’d never seen Vanessa do was drink hard liquor. Something was seriously fucked up.
“What’s going on? You seem a little…”
“Drunk?” she finished for me. “Then mission accomplished.”
Charlie and I worked as a unit to maneuver her into a corner.
“What the hell is going on, Vanessa?”
She downed the remainder of what smelled like a gin and tonic. She threw the glass over the railing into the river and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. Her actions were all wrong. “Nothing you need to worry about, Simon.”
I opened my mouth to continue questioning her, but Vanessa was looking over my shoulder at Royce Frost as he crossed the deck, presumably heading toward us. She leveled a relatively sober stare on me and said, “I think I’ve had enough festivities for the evening. It’s time for me to go. Especially if you don’t want my father to think you’re still potential husband material.”
Charlie and I exchanged a confused look.
“Let’s get you a cab then. Unless you want us to see you home,” I offered.
“No, a cab is fine.” She turned to Charlie and spoke softly. “Treat him right; he’s one of the good ones.”
Charlie glanced up at me and nodded. “I know.”
We helped Vanessa down the gangway, across the private section of dock, and then through the masses of people filling the streets. After Vanessa climbed into the back seat, I paid the driver and gave him directions to take her home.
“I’ve never seen her like that. Something’s definitely off,” I said to Charlie, as we turned away from the street.
“Maybe you should check on her tomorrow? See if you can get a better sense of what’s going on after she’s had a chance to sober up?” Charlie suggested.
I squeezed her hand, happy that she’d not only sheathed her claws, but was concerned about Vanessa, a woman she’d previously considered a threat.
“That sounds like a plan.”
We pushed through the crowd, but a fat bastard of a man shoved between us, breaking my hold.
“Charlie!” I spun, looking for her red dress as the mob of people carried her away from me like a riptide. When I finally caught sight of her, she was elbowing her way through the crowd, and her mask was gone.
I made my way toward her, and when I finally reached her, I swung her up in my arms.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Jesus, it’s a freaking riot out there. You’d think it was Mardi Gras,” she said, sucking in a breath. She gestured to her face. “Lost my mask. The elastic snapped, and I didn’t want to risk looking for it. It’s not worth getting trampled.”
“Good call.”
I hoisted her up higher so she had a better vantage point to see over the craziness, and we made our way back to the private dock. When we reached the less crowded space, I set Charlie down, and we both paused to right ourselves. A ginger-haired guy tried to follow us, but was stopped by an Orleans employee at the gate. He gestured wildly, but the security guard wouldn’t let him pass. I hoped he wasn’t a guest who’d misplaced his ticket. When he backed away and faded into the cr
owd, I assumed he was just another partier, wanting to get out of the craziness for a minute.
I watched Charlie as she shook her head—black, red, and purple waves falling into her face. She brushed them away as the first barrage of fireworks ripped through the night sky.
My mind veered to the last time we’d watched fireworks. I grabbed her hand and pulled her up the gangway and across the ship. Everyone’s attention was on the sky, so no one noticed as I led Charlie down two sets of stairs and into a dark, empty room on the lower deck. Given the relatively small size of the event tonight, only the upper decks were in use.
The glow from the dockside windows streaked through the shadows, creating pockets of light.
“Simon, what the hell? I thought we’d watch—”
“Oh, we are. But I want a repeat of last time.”
She spun to face me, her face half in shadow, half in light. “We can’t! Not here.”
“After all your bitching about no sex, are you really going to shoot me down?” Venturing farther into the room, I picked a dark section between two tables with a view of the river and the fireworks exploding overhead.
“When you put it like that—” Charlie started.
I cupped her face and kissed her bold red lips, stealing her words. She tasted like champagne and sin. Her hands clutched the shoulders of my linen suit, and I wanted her to wrinkle the hell out of it. I skimmed my hands down her back and under the skirt of her dress. Sliding my palms up the backs of her thighs, I gripped her ass and pulled her hard against me.
“You feel that? You ever think I don’t want you? You’re crazy, babe.” She flexed her hips into me. I took that as her assent and tugged at the sides of her lacy panties until they dropped to the floor and she stepped out of them. She bent to grab them and shoved them in my pocket. Her next words told me she was fully on board with my plan.
“I’m hoping I won’t be able to remember my name, let alone my panties, after you’re done with me.”
“Jesus, Charlie.” My hard-on pulsed against my suit pants as she dragged me down for another deep, drugging kiss. I pulled her hands away from my face and spun her toward a table. “This time, I’m in charge, sweetheart. After all, you did challenge my manhood.”
She shuddered at my words, and I pressed her against the table with a hand to her back. She moaned at the contact. Leaning over her, I whispered in her ear. “You gotta hold those hot little moans in, baby. You think you can do that?”
She only nodded in response. “Good girl.”
I pushed up the skirt of her dress and the sight of her gorgeous ass had me struggling to hold in a groan. I wanted to spend the rest of my life memorizing her every curve. She fisted the white tablecloth as I nudged her feet apart. Another whisper into her ear. “That’s right, sweetheart. Hold on tight. This is going to be hard and fast.”
She arched her back, pushing her ass against me. Urging me on. I could only imagine what she’d be saying if we weren’t worried about being discovered. It’d be something filthy, and I’d fucking love it.
I freed myself from my pants and cupped her between her legs to find her hot and slick and ready. She pressed her face into the tablecloth as I slid two fingers inside her. A low moan escaped her lips. My answering groan was strangled in my throat. “Shhh, baby. I’m going take care of you, don’t worry.”
I fit the head of my cock against her entrance and thrust home. Because that was exactly what Charlie had become for me. Home.
Thirty-Four
Charlie
Simon didn’t let his inner caveman out to play often, but when he did, watch out.
I loved the heat of his palm against my back, pressing me into the table, the way he handled my body so confidently, as if he had no doubt that he was going to give me exactly what I wanted. What I needed.
And I had no doubt that he would. Simon was everything I needed.
I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from moaning his name when he finally pushed inside me. My fingers curled into the tablecloth, and I tried to hold on to my sanity and keep my silence. Thrust after thrust, hard, soft, slow, fast, shallow, deep. I couldn’t keep up with his pace, couldn’t latch on to a pattern, just reveled in the sensations overtaking me. I turned my head toward the window where fireworks burst in the air and trails of red, blue, green, and white sparkled and descended to the dark river.
My eyes fluttered shut as my body tensed. Simon reached around me, slipping a hand between my legs. With a press of his thumb to my clit, the orgasm tore through me, and I could see nothing but the bursts of color in my mind as I detonated.
Simon, being the Southern gentleman, produced a handkerchief from his pocket to clean us up, and helped me step back into my underwear. I may not have forgotten my name—I’d tried for months without success—but I’d had an epiphany. He needed to know everything. I owed it to him. And then he could make his choice about whether or not he wanted me in his life. I knew what I wanted. I just needed to get him home and lay it all out.
The party was winding down after the firework display had concluded. We crossed the deck, ready to depart, when Simon’s mother flagged us down. She was concerned about his father making his way off the ship by himself. Simon steadied his dad, and we headed down to the private dock where dozens of cameras were flashing just beyond the railing. I reached up to touch my face and froze. No mask. But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The volley of questions hit me like a slap in the face.
“Charlotte—how long have you been in New Orleans?”
“Charlotte—where’s the money?”
“Ms. Agoston—why aren’t you cooperating with the FBI?”
It was like I was stumbling down the courthouse steps all over again, determined to outrun the stigma of my name. My stomach knotted, and even in the hot, humid Louisiana night, a cold weight settled over me.
A youngish redheaded man, apparently with balls of steel, jumped the rail and strode toward us. “I knew it was you. I saw you first! I deserve the exclusive.”
For destroying my carefully constructed life? He deserved nothing but a stiletto to the groin. Instead of carrying through with my thought, I focused on the obvious. But I couldn’t form the right question.
“H … how…? I don’t—”
“Out in the crowd earlier. I saw you. I didn’t even think it was really you at first, so I followed you back to the boat. I spent weeks watching you and your mother come in and out of the courtroom. And then hours studying you on the stand. I was interning at The Post. My boss was covering your dad’s trial. He was cool enough to let me tag along for all of it.” He paused. “It was your eyes first. And then your face. You just don’t forget those Agoston eyes.”
“But—”
He continued, “Shouldn’t have fucking said anything, but I told my editor I had the story of the year, if he’d let me run with it. Don’t know how the rest of these vultures heard. Grapevine, I guess.”
“Get the fuck back before I throw you off this dock, boy.” Simon’s voice was harsh, promising violence. It had the intended effect. The redhead scuttled back and hopped the fence before an Orleans employee could grab him.
Outted by an overzealous intern. It was almost as ridiculous as Al Capone going down for tax evasion.
Simon dropped my hand and stared down at me, assessing my every feature with new intensity. Everyone and everything else—the voices, the flashes—fell away. There was nothing but Simon. There was also nothing I could say to fix this.
He was a stranger again. The one who’d met me at the door to his office. His expression was stony, and his hazel eyes gave nothing away as they stripped me bare.
I straightened, trying to prepare myself for what I knew was coming. My heart was already cracking. But I’d brought this on myself. I could have told him weeks ago. Months ago. But I’d chosen not to.
The muscles in his jaw clenched as he reached for a section of my hair. He shook his head and yanked his hand back without touching me.
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“Simon … I—”
“Why?” The quiet word rasped over me and scraped me raw. “Why didn’t you just tell me? If you think I would’ve cared, that it would have made a damn bit of difference, you don’t know me at all.”
“Can we not do this here?” I begged.
He ignored my plea and continued.
“I would have protected you, hid you away from the world, if that’s what you wanted. But you didn’t trust me. Not even with something as simple as your goddamn name.” He paused, inhaling a harsh breath. “I thought you coming here tonight meant something. Meant that this was finally real. But it was never real, was it?” His lips quirked up in a mockery of a smile. “Can’t have love without trust, Charlotte.”
His words, punctuated with the use of my real name, were a blade between my ribs. The shaft of pain through my heart stole any response I could muster.
Jefferson Duchesne shoved his way between Simon and me, popping the bubble that had formed around us. He pitched his words low, but they still hit me like an uppercut to the gut. “You can’t be seen with her. You need to put as much distance between you and her as you possibly can. She’ll ruin everything.”
The words ricocheted through my brain.
Ruin everything. Ruin everything. Ruin everything.
And he was right. I owed Simon more than that. Simon turned to his father, and I did what I did best.
I ran.