He’d done so much for her and Melissa and all Jeannie had ever done for him was serve him the perfect Manhattan. She might not be able to provide material comfort for the man but by God, she could help him face his demons.
Specifically, one demon.
Like followed like, after all. But this time she promised herself it would be good trouble. The plan was simple. Back up Robert. Help his mom. Hell, protect the good people of Illinois from a damn monster.
Really, it was going to be one hell of a party.
She shifted Melissa so she could text faster.
Robert. I am not your employee.
You don’t ALLOW me to do anything.
Let me be there for you.
It’s not weakness to accept help.
I can’t ask this of you.
You’re not asking.
This is not an obligation.
I’m coming. Let me come with you.
Melissa stirred, pushing against her blanket. The little noises she made—Maja had said those were hungry noises. Jeannie glanced at the clock—right on schedule. Who knew babies had schedules? But this baby did, thanks to a stand-in grandmother and by God, Jeannie wasn’t going to screw that up. Which meant she couldn’t lie around texting much longer.
Robert. Let me come with you. Please.
You can’t wear the yellow dress.
This is a formal event.
I don’t have anything more formal.
Unless you want me to wear my vest and bow tie?
Lord.
I will send some things over.
If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.
He can’t know who you really are.
I can blend. Promise.
The typing bubble showed for a long time but Jeannie knew she’d won. She absolutely could blend. She’d been serving the upper crust drinks for years now. She knew the mannerisms, the topics the one percent discussed. She could be just as obnoxious and ostentatious as Robert’s wallpapered ceilings or as cold and aloof as Robert himself. She could absolutely fake it until she made it, whatever form it took.
It couldn’t be a small lie because those were obvious and easy to disprove. To pull one over on someone like Landon Wyatt, it’d have to be a grand lie, so bold and ostentatious that no one would dare question her or her place on Robert’s arm. She’d have to not just belong there—she’d also have to own the room.
She glanced at the book on her coffee table. To Dare a Duke. Hmm.
Of course, it all depended on what she’d be wearing. Heaven only knew what Robert would be sending this time.
Finally, the typing bubble disappeared but instead of a long paragraph of text, all that popped up were two little words that made her grin wildly.
Thank you.
There. Was that so hard?
Saturday at six.
I’ll be waiting.
He didn’t reply, but then, he didn’t need to. He’d said thank you. For Robert, that was the equivalent of a regular dude standing outside her bedroom window with a boom box blaring ’80s love songs.
Melissa fussed more insistently and Jeannie struggled to her feet. She had to feed the baby and check her diaper and then?
Then she had to get ready for Saturday night.
She had a date with the hottest bachelor in Chicago and she had a feeling that, before it was all over, she was going to see stars.
Twelve
Robert was not nervous because he was a Wyatt and Wyatts didn’t get nervous. Anxiety was a symptom of uncertainty, and Wyatts were confident and sure at all times.
So the sense of unease, the sweaty palms, the unsettled stomach—absolutely not nerves. He wasn’t concerned about how tonight would go. He had no worries about the traps he’d laid and how it’d all unfold in the public eye. He was confident he could get his mother away and handle Landon.
Robert was positive he could handle himself. Which was why he wasn’t nervous at all.
He was excited to see what the stylists had done with Jeannie, that was all. Kelly had sent over a team of three people—hair, makeup and clothes. He anticipated seeing her dressed for his world.
God, he missed her.
It’d been a week since he’d brought her into his home. Seven days since he’d allowed her to touch him. Allowed himself to take comfort in another person. All he’d focused on in that time was laying the groundwork to remove the threat that was Landon Wyatt.
Missing her was more familiar now, a sensation he recognized. It was the same feeling that had thrown him off the night she hadn’t appeared at the bar. The same longing that had gripped him after he’d brought her home after their date.
Date. Ha. As if that word got anywhere close to accurately describing their afternoon together. Something as simple as lunch didn’t leave him a changed man.
And she had changed him, damn her.
The strange thing was...well, he’d missed her. Not just the way she talked to—or texted—him, although he did miss that because no one else dared argue with him. But then, no one else listened like she did, either.
Because of what she’d done—what he’d let her do—he had achieved something he’d always assumed to be beyond him.
Sex with Jeannie had been different. So very different, in fact, that he’d been able to keep it separate from his previous experiences. He’d stayed in the moment. Did she have any idea how unusual that was? Of course not. But he’d been lost to the way the silk had bitten into his skin, the way she’d ground down onto him, her weight warm and slick and silent. Perhaps too silent but after all those times marked by fake moans and real screams, it’d been a gift.
She’d given him the gift of something new, something real. He’d watched her take her pleasure, her body drawing his in, tightening around him, and she’d been raw and honest and even now, after a week, it still left him wanting more.
Which was bad.
Wasn’t tonight proof? She’d left him in a weakened position, one where he allowed her to convince him to bring her to meet his parents, of all the damn things.
He wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t losing his grip. Because Robert Wyatt would’ve never agreed to this. Introducing her to Landon was not just a bad idea—it carried real risks for Jeannie. For them both.
Reginald parked in front of Jeannie’s little house and some of what was definitely not nervousness eased. Well. It was too late to turn back now. The plans had been set into motion. The newspaper photographer and guards were already in place. Kelly, Robert’s assistant, had a plane on standby.
And Robert had personally interviewed the nurse, a young single woman with impressive grades, exceptional references, a valid passport and a desire to see the world, in addition to numerous outstanding student loans and a sister who had no means of affording higher education. She had been more than willing to relocate to a foreign country for six to twelve months at the salary and signing bonus Robert was offering.
Perhaps tonight would go well. He would get his mother to leave with him and, ideally, they’d show the world who Landon Wyatt really was.
They’d just need a distraction.
Would Jeannie really throw a glass of wine into Landon’s face? Oh, who was he kidding? Of course she would. The better question was, what else would she do?
This was madness.
Reginald opened Robert’s door and he stood, surveying the scene before him. Good. The yard had been trimmed and he was fairly certain there were new shrubs around the foundation. The housepainters were due to start after the roofers had finished, which was scheduled for next week.
He almost smiled as he strode up the sidewalk. Jeannie’s little house was small and cramped and no one would ever accuse it of conveying wealth or power or even taste but...there was something he liked about climbing those three simp
le steps, about the way her door swung open before he could ring the bell, about seeing her...
Everything came to a sudden halt. His breathing, his heart, his forward movement—all stopped.
“Robert.” She smiled, this goddess, blessing him with her benevolent kindness. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Oh, dear God. He had to catch himself on the railing to keep from stumbling back. “Jeannie?”
The goddess’s eyebrow notched up as she grinned at him and then it all snapped back into place and he could see Jeannie underneath the dramatic makeup, the big hair and that dress.
“Well?” she said with what sounded like a knowing smirk. He couldn’t tell for sure because he was too busy staring at that dress. She did a little turn. “What do you think?”
Robert lurched forward, grabbing on to the door frame. A wave of lust, pure and intense, nearly brought him to his knees. He’d seen her body dressed in nothing but those lacy pink underthings. Seen the trimmed swath of dark hair that covered her sex, watched in fascination as her fingers had stroked over it while he strained to be deeper inside her, more a part of her.
But he’d never seen her like this.
His bartender was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Jeannie had been completely transformed. Her short hair had been blown out so that it crowned her head, a far cry from the sleek style she normally wore. Her eyes were dark and mysterious, lips two shades darker than the red dress. Diamonds dripped off her ears and an enormous diamond teardrop pendant hung nestled between her breasts, which were barely contained by the vee of her dress that went almost to her waist. The rest of the dress clung to her hips and legs in a way that could only be described as indecent.
She was bold and scandalous and, most important, completely unrecognizable.
She was perfect.
“Hmm,” she mused, her lips forming a little pout. He noticed, which meant he’d apparently stopped staring at her body. “I do believe I’ve stunned you speechless. It’s quite different from your normal silence.” She touched the tip of her tongue to her top lip. Robert had to bite back a groan. “Yes,” she practically hummed and he realized he barely recognized her voice. She bit off her vowels differently, held herself taller. Although maybe it was the dress? “Quite different.”
Maja appeared from the baby’s room. “See?” she clucked in that grandmotherly way. “I told you it’d work.”
Jeannie beamed and there she was again, his Jeannie. “I was afraid the dress was too much—to say nothing of the danged diamonds, Robert,” she explained, as if Robert had asked a question when all his brain wanted to do was peel that dress off her and get lost in her body again. And again. And again, until nothing else mattered. “The stylists brought a black one but—”
“But with her coloring—” Maja added. Dimly, Robert realized she was holding the baby “—red was the obvious color,” she concluded, sounding triumphant. “The color of luck.”
“Yes,” he managed to agree. Somehow.
Jeannie turned back to him and she was different again. He couldn’t say how, but she was. “And you,” she said, her hips swaying indecently as she moved toward him. “That’s quite a tuxedo you’re filling out there, Robert.” She reached out and straightened his tie.
He nodded, which was probably not the correct reaction but it was all he had. What had she texted him?
She could blend. She’d promised.
By God, this was not blending. And he couldn’t care less.
“Go on now,” Maja said, scooping something off the coffee table and handing it to Jeannie. A handbag, small and black and sparkling. “Enjoy your night. I’ll be here the whole time so...”
Her words trailed off and Robert realized the nanny was giving them both permission not to come home.
Well. He did pay her for going above and beyond, didn’t he?
He nodded again, this time managing to find his usual imperiousness. Jeannie smoothed his lapels, sending licks of fire over his chest. But then she notched an eyebrow at him again and he saw the challenge in her eyes.
“Thank you,” he added. Maja inclined her head in acknowledgment.
Jeannie beamed up at him and it took every last bit of self-restraint he had not to pull her into his arms and mess up her lipstick. This time he wanted to touch her, to see her body bared completely. By candlelight. He wanted to feel her hands on him. He wanted to taste her, every single part, his lips on her skin, inside her body.
To hell with the perfect Manhattan. He would be forever drunk on her.
“We should go,” she said softly in that strange voice of hers, giving his lapels a pat.
“Yes,” he said, barely recognizing his own voice.
She turned and walked—swayed—back to Maja. “Be good tonight, sweetie,” she said, brushing her fingertips over Melissa’s head. “Love you.”
Robert had to grip the door frame again because this was something new and real and he didn’t know how to make sense of it, this display of maternal affection. There was something so right about Jeannie looking down at the baby with such tenderness.
Then she turned back to him, a sultry smile playing across her lips. “Shall we?”
“Yes,” he repeated again.
“Have fun!” Maja called out after them.
* * *
Working in silence, Cybil applied the thick foundation liberally, blending it all the way down her neck. Lupe, her maid, spread it over Cybil’s back and shoulders, covering the bruises. They hadn’t faded yet and if Landon saw any trace of his violence...
It’d be so much easier if she could wear a dress with a jacket, but Landon had chosen a deep blue gown for her to wear tonight and of course it was off the shoulder, with an attached capelet. Elegant and sophisticated—and it left her décolletage and shoulders bare.
Lupe finished with the makeup and began to fix Cybil’s hair into an upswept French twist. They worked in silence. In theory, Lupe’s English was not very good, which made conversation difficult. In practice, Cybil had learned long ago not to trust a single person on staff.
Tonight she was going to see Bobby again. He was coming, his assistant had assured Landon’s assistant, Alexander. He would be there. She would see her son with her own eyes, see that he was healthy and whole and, she dared to hope, happy, even. That she’d kept him safe by staying, by keeping Landon away from Bobby.
She dared to hope that Bobby had forgiven her for leaving. That he understood she’d done so to protect him.
She dared to hope...
But she did not allow any of this hope to show. No excitement danced in her eyes as she watched Lupe work in the mirror. She was resigned to her role as hostess for the gala, a role she could perform effortlessly. She was prepared to act the politician’s wife, smiling widely as her husband lied through his teeth about how he cared for this state, this city, the millions of people whose lives he could improve—or ruin. She’d had years of practice, after all.
And if Bobby offered her shelter again...
She couldn’t go to his home. She couldn’t risk him like that again. But surely, he knew that. Surely, he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
Dear Lord, Cybil prayed, please don’t let me make the same mistake again, either.
There had to be a way.
* * *
“Are you breathing?” Jeannie asked as the car crawled through downtown traffic.
She stroked her thumb over Robert’s knuckles. He had a hell of a grip on her hand. She’d explained the persona she was adopting tonight and she could tell he wasn’t 100 percent on board. Not that she could blame him.
This was, hands down, the craziest thing she’d ever done.
“Yes,” he said after a long moment in which she was pretty sure he hadn’t breathed. “I’m fine.”
“I doubt it.” She saw a quick flash of teeth. “Is the
re a plan? Because I can wing it but this sort of feels like one of those situations where a plan would be a good idea.” After another few seconds, she added, “Sharing it would be an even better idea.”
His grip tightened on her hand and she had to work hard not to gasp. “Reginald will be parked by the service entrance in the basement, engine running. There’s a service elevator in the back, next to the restrooms. It’s down a short hallway.” He cleared his throat, sounding painfully nervous. “If I can get her to come with me, we’ll leave without a look back.”
She thought on that for a moment as she fiddled with the heavy diamond pendant. The rock alone was probably worth more than she made in a year, not to mention the earrings or the dress. A Valentino dress, for God’s sake! She was easily wearing thirty, forty thousand dollars’ worth of fabric and diamonds. Which was not a huge deal to Robert but, if she let herself think about it too much, it would easily freak her the heck out.
But tonight she wouldn’t fret about cost or Robert’s world. Tonight she was going to waltz into that gala party on his arm like she owned the damn room and if it took three stylists, diamonds and a Valentino to do it, so be it. “So I’m to...what, distract your father while you two make a run for the airport?”
“God, no—you stick with me.” He pulled his hand free and—shockingly—adjusted his cuffs. “You are not to be alone with him under any circumstances. Ever.”
She almost rolled her eyes at his tone. “I can handle myself, Robert. I’ve been fending off drunks and avoiding wandering hands since I was a teenager. Don’t worry.”
His head swung around and even in the dark interior of the car, she shivered at his intensity. “You are not to be alone with him, Jeannie.” His voice was dangerously quiet, all the more menacing for it. “Ever.”
“O...kay. So how do we know he won’t follow us?”
“He won’t want to make a scene. The whole point of tonight is to put on a public performance.”
Seduction on His Terms Page 12