Chapter 28
SET FOR A DOUBLE LIFE
LANEY
“Can I help you, miss?”
Two weeks later, I entered the marble-drenched lobby of the Quayden Building, a truly enormous high rise that overlooked the Boston Common (which was never, as I had sternly been instructed by Ronan, ever to be called the Commons-with-an-s).
Over the last two weeks, Ronan and I had found a sort of rhythm together.
By day, we parted ways—him to whatever mysterious things he did at the Blackguard Headquarters and his boxing gym that drew lines across his brow, me to getting to know Boston and trying to figure out what my next steps would be should I decide to stay permanently after six months.
So far, this had included searching for a permanent creative director for Meráki and meeting the Classics chairs at three different universities.
By night, however, the stresses of the world melted away when we retreated to the little house in Charlestown, a bubble of books and sex and maybe even love, where no one could find us once the sun went down.
I didn’t think I’d ever been happier.
I blinked at the doorman and offered my best “I belong here” smile. “Hi, I’m Laney Fisher—er—Black.”
I still wasn’t sure about what name I was supposed to be using. Ronan liked to call me Mrs. Black when he walked in just to see me blush, and people tended to address me that way once they realized who my husband was. But at the same time, it didn’t completely feel like me.
Or maybe it just didn’t feel like I’d earned it. Yet, anyway.
The doorman seemed confused.
I sighed. “Ronan Black’s wife.”
Awareness dawned on the man’s face. “Oh! Mrs. Black, hello. Welcome to the Quayden. I’m Aaron, the morning doorman. Sully comes on at two, and then Richard at ten. We’ve been expecting you. Did Mr. Black give you the code?”
I nodded and held out the slip of paper on which Ronan had written the code to the “soulless vacuum,” otherwise known as the penthouse where the rest of the world thought he lived.
The doorman nodded with a friendly smile. “Very well, ma’am. Will we be seeing more of you and Mr. Black at the penthouse?”
That, I couldn’t say. Or rather, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say, given that this was apparently a very expensive front for Ronan’s personal life that allowed him to live a much different one across town.
The arrangement was odd, to say the least. For one, it didn’t make sense to pay what had to be astronomical amounts of money for a home he didn’t use.
Secondly, he had to know his days with a secret residence were numbered, especially once he officially assumed the helm of his father’s company.
I already knew the round-the-clock security chafed his need for privacy.
I’d been avoiding it myself. But I felt his family’s notoriety just about everywhere in Boston, along with a hum of anticipation whenever Ronan’s name came up.
Eventually, it would just make more sense for him to live in a tower like this for real.
I decided that “We’ll see” was the best option.
“Very good, ma’am. The far elevator goes directly to the penthouse.”
“Thank you.” I followed his directions, trying to look like I was comfortable with this kind of grandeur instead of the way I really felt, which was as if I were a tourist in someone else’s life.
It was the first time since Brendan’s retirement party that I felt uncomfortable, especially since Ronan and I had been learning all the ways we fit perfectly since.
In bed, yes, but also in the ways our minds met, in the way we could simply exist together in the same small space.
His townhouse wasn’t tiny, especially by Boston standards, but it wasn’t a mansion either.
But that was exactly what I found on the other side of the elevator’s doors.
The Quayden penthouse was objectively beautiful. Pristine, untouched, and completely devoid of color except for a modern painting slashing across the far wall of the house-sized foyer and the blue skies and green parks through the windows. It had more in common with a museum than a home.
I looked down a hallway to my left, where a series of closed doors seemed to repeat for days. To the right, another led to more open spaces toward which my footsteps echoed on the marble floor.
There wasn’t a book in sight.
I hated everything about it.
“Hello?” I called as I ventured further toward the open doors. “Is anyone here?”
Echoes of sensible oxfords clipped down the hall, and a moment later, Ronan’s assistant emerged from the far end.
Ruth Delgado was easily the most competent person I had ever met.
According to Ronan, the fifty-something woman had served as Brendan’s executive assistant for the entire time he had worked at Blackguard—nearly twenty years.
She went to work for Ronan when Brendan left and had proven herself indispensable by managing his schedule like a drill sergeant, anticipating his moves before he made him, and telling him when he was screwing up (but only when his other family members weren’t there).
Now four solid weeks into his new role, Ronan was sure of one thing: Ruth Delgado was one of the few people at Blackguard he could trust.
“Hi, Ruth,” I greeted her with a smile. “How are you today?”
“Very well, Mrs. Black, thank you.”
“Please, I keep telling you. Call me Laney.”
“And I keep telling you, Mrs. Black—I could never do that. It wouldn’t be appropriate.” She gestured back toward the direction from which she had come. “This way, please.”
I followed her into a football-field-sized living room bordered with picture windows looking out onto the Common, Cambridge, and beyond. Squinting, I thought I could make out Charlestown from here.
“Were you able to find the building all right?” Ruth asked as we both sat down on a white couch, in front of which several folders were laid out on a long coffee table.
I nodded. “The driver you sent took me straight here.”
Ruth looked relieved. “Good. He’s new, so please let me know if you have any issues. Mr. Black says you still don’t yet have a security detail?”
I shook my head. “It hardly seems necessary. It’s Ronan everyone wants, right?”
“Hmmm. Yes. But you’re married to one of the most powerful people in the country, my dear. When the news is announced publicly tomorrow night, you’ll become a target.” She looked uneasy. “You do know what happened to Ms. Bishop, don’t you?”
“Ms. Bishop… oh, you mean Simone. It was horrible. But those men are gone now, right?”
For some reason, the kidnapping that had rocked the Black family seemed more theoretical to me. Ronan never talked about it—in fact, the few times it had come up, he immediately changed the subject and searched for a cigarette.
He only seemed to smoke when he was stressed.
“Of course, Mrs. Black. I’m assured the whole business was taken care of in Nevada.”
That made me still. “Wait. Are you saying that’s why Ronan was in Las Vegas the weekend we met?”
For the first time, Ruth looked uneasy, like she had made a mistake.
“Oh, well. I really couldn’t say. When his brother was working as COO and then Interim CEO, your husband spent a fair amount of time in Las Vegas on behalf of the company.
Blackguard has quite a bit of… unofficial business in the area, or so I’ve been given to understand. ”
I frowned. “What do you mean, ‘unofficial’?”
The unease in Ruth’s expression grew. “You’ll have to ask Mr. Black about that. I’m afraid I don’t have any more details.”
By this point, my mind was swimming. And my whole perspective on that weekend had changed. I had gone into this assuming Ronan was in Las Vegas as some kind of rich playboy. The big hotel room, the drinks, the hedonistic night—it all created a picture that was hard to ignore.
But now I was sitting in a whole home he kept just for show. If there was one thing I knew about Ronan, it was the fact that, like Janus, he conspicuously had two sides to him—the one he showed to the world and the other he showed to me.
Which version had I met that night? And which was the one I woke up married to?
“Mrs. Black?” Ruth almost looked like she felt sorry for me. She set down the iPad, then reached out to pat my hand. “Mr. Black loves you. No matter what stories you might hear, I’m sure that’s true.”
“I—thank you. I know.” I swallowed. I wanted to believe that. I really did. But Ronan and I were still so new. Infatuated with each other, yes, but neither of us had ventured near the L-word.
“There are always more people who want what the Blacks have, ma’am,” Ruth said. “I would remember that if I were you. And, at the very least, accept a security guard if only to safeguard your husband’s peace of mind and that of anyone else who cares for you.”
I nodded. “Right. Okay. Um, can you help with that too?”
Ruth looked relieved that I wasn’t going to fight her anymore about it. “Of course. I’ll speak to Mr. MacNamara today about choosing a personal detail. Now, shall we make a choice about your creative director?”
An hour later, Ruth and I had reviewed the final candidates to run my mother’s business.
“I’ll type up the offer and have it sent out,” Ruth said just as her iPad buzzed with an incoming call. She pressed the Bluetooth in her ear. “Yes, Aaron? Very well, please send them up.” She ended the call and stood. “Your team has arrived.”
The trepidation that had calmed over the last hour fluttered back into my chest. Somehow, while going through the sales reports and resumes, I’d forgotten the other reason I had been summoned to the penthouse instead of staying at home.
Today I was meeting with the style team Niall Black had all but ordered Ronan to assign me before the reception tomorrow night.
Tonight, Laney Fisher would be put away for good (or for as long as I was Ronan’s wife), and these people would turn her into Mrs. Ronan Black.
Just as Ruth left to welcome the team, a friendly face buzzed on my phone.
I grinned. Yes, this was the person I needed to talk to right now.
I opened the FaceTime and grinned. “Girl. You are so going to regret not coming a day early.”
“I knowww,” Megan offered her very best faux-whine.
“But you know I couldn’t get off work. I already maxed my PTO for the honeymoon, so my boss is already pissed I’m taking off Friday to fly out.
But obviously I wasn’t going to miss my best friend’s wedding reception with a billionaire.
Oh my God, Laney, you’re a legitimate socialite! ”
I rolled my eyes. “Stop. I am not a socialite. And Ronan’s not a billionaire. Not really.”
“Um, bish, what planet are you living on? Have you even looked up the man’s net worth?”
I huffed. For some reason, the idea of Ronan’s money made me uncomfortable—mostly because it seemed to make him uncomfortable. Other than a penchant for nice clothes and expensive nice liquor that these days he was barely drinking, his day-to-day life was surprisingly modest.
But instead of explaining that for the tenth time, I settled for, “You suck.”
“No, I’m just right.” She sat back in the chair of what looked her cubicle at work. Like half of Seattle, Megan worked in IT. “And I’ll prove it to you while I figure out what to wear on the private jet you are sending for me tomorrow morning. Mandy’s so annoyed with me right now.”
Guilt squeezed my gut at the mention of her boss. She really was on thin ice for taking extra time off. “Listen, if it’s too much, you don’t have to come. I know it was last minute, and your boss is—”
“Laney.”
“—plus, you and Kev are newlyweds, and I doubt he wants his new wife running off—”
“Laney!”
I stopped. “What?”
Megan was looking at me like I was missing half my brain cells. “Girl. How many times have you been there for me in the twenty-five years we have known each other?”
“Well, technically it’s twenty-six. We met when we were six months old in daycare.”
“My point exactly. I mean, just in the last year alone, how many times did you do something as my maid of honor that only benefited me?”
I squirmed in my seat. “That’s different. It was your wedding.”
“And this is yours, you idiot!” she exploded. “Or, basically, it is. So, yeah, my boss can suck it. I’m taking my best friend’s husband’s private jet so I can toast to their wedding and hobnob with the rich and famous. Big hardship for me.”
I giggled. She had a point. “God, I’m glad you’re coming.
I need at least one familiar face in all this madness.
Speaking of which…” I looked up to where the style team was following Ruth into the living room and switched my phone’s view so that Megan could see them.
“Meet my glam squad. Everyone, this is my best friend, Megan. She’ll be joining us for at least part of the afternoon.
And I would really appreciate it if you could take her measurements and help her find a dress for tomorrow too. ”