Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
T hrough an arched doorway was a crowd of fashionably dressed people circulating beneath a massive crystal chandelier. Servers in white tuxes moved through the crush, offering flutes of white wine and champagne. The Gilded Age mansion was true to its name, with tons of gold detailing, intricate carvings, yellow marble, and lions flanking the grand staircase. If it weren’t for the modern dresses, Jasmine could be convinced they’d stepped into a time capsule.
A twinkling Christmas tree that had to be at least twelve feet high stood beside an onyx fireplace. A second story landing allowed people to watch the activity from above or admire the life-size statues, silk tapestries, and regal oil paintings that graced the walls in gold frames.
“Jasmine.”
She tore her eyes from the festivities and focused on Roth. A woman with her hair pulled into a severe bun stood at his side wearing a kind smile.
“Your coat, ma’am.”
When she hesitated, Roth handed her clutch to the staff and began to undo the buttons himself. He held her gaze as he slipped the coat off and handed it over. She self-consciously tugged on her neckline even though it would do nothing to cover her back, which had broken out in goose bumps despite the warm air ruffling her curls. If she’d known what the dress looked like, she would have asked for hair extensions instead of getting a trim, which left her with no natural shield.
The door behind them opened, bringing in a cold blast that made her gasp. A distinguished couple in their fifties entered. The woman had a pleasant smile on her face, which disappeared when she spotted Jasmine. The man at her side gave Jasmine a broad smile and a wink.
“Merry Christmas,” he drawled.
She made a wild grab for her coat, but Roth shuffled her aside so the newcomers could hand over their winter gear. When he ushered her forward, she dug in her heels.
“My clutch!” she hissed.
He gave the tiny bag the attendant was holding a cursory glance before he said, “You won’t need it,” and pulled her forward.
Roth didn’t glance into the rooms to their right or left but strode straight into the crowd. Conversation stuttered as he cut through the loose circles without exchanging pleasantries or acknowledging anyone in his path. She squeezed his hand to get his attention, but he didn’t slow down or look back at her. This wasn’t how anyone should enter any event, much less the Trentham Ball, but Roth was doing things his way and there was nothing she could do about it. She pasted on a gracious smile to hide her chagrin. Was it her imagination, or was everyone looking at them?
Roth reached the staircase and navigated around and between those socializing on the steps. Feeling dozens of eyes on them made her tattoo throb as if she’d just been under the needle. She blocked out the intense scrutiny in favor of taking in her incredible surroundings. The old-world details, painted ceiling, candles flickering in gold candelabras, and artwork that belonged in the Met made her writers’ mind take flight. She tried to imprint as much of this as possible into her memory for future reference.
Once they gained the second story, she saw everyone mingling in front of a ballroom unlike any she’d ever seen. The whole room glittered, as did everyone in it. She’d never seen so much gold in one place. It was palatial and appropriately over-the-top like everything else she had seen thus far. People gave way as Roth forged toward the open double doors that led into the ballroom.
“Isn’t she the one who had the affair?”
A woman’s voice rose above the din, obnoxiously loud and sharp, so she couldn’t miss it.
Her enchantment with her surroundings fractured. She had been studiously avoiding making eye contact with anyone, but as her eyes swept the crowd to locate the woman, she found that it wasn’t her imagination. They were the center of attention. People openly stared, gawked, or glared. She recognized some faces—Mrs. Pearson, the wife of her dad’s business partner who lived at 432 Park Avenue, looked outraged. Whether that was due to her dress or her presence, Jasmine wasn’t sure. There was also Jovan Delgado, one of her father’s cronies. His scornful look, so reminiscent of her father, reactivated memories of being mocked and humiliated at functions like this.
People put their heads together, spreading gossip like wildfire. She heard murmurs of their last names and then the inevitable, “Ford Baldwin.”
The shame she swore she wouldn’t allow herself to feel began to spread like a virus, locking up her muscles so it was hard to move. The feeling of impending doom she’d tried to smother throughout the day engulfed her, taking her breath away.
When Roth tried to step into the ballroom, she yanked her hand out of his. He whirled, his expression impatient and grim, but whatever he saw on her face cleared his instantly. He gathered her against him and sank his fingers into her hair.
“Don’t panic,” he ordered gruffly.
She gripped his jacket as she tried to get a hold of herself. Everything she’d suppressed over the past week geysered up, overwhelming her at the worst possible moment. She couldn’t be falling apart at the Trentham Ball in front of all these people. She was supposed to be playing a sophisticated, untouchable bitch. But they weren’t even five minutes into their performance, and she was fucking up.
Roth backed her into a corner and stood in front of her to block everyone’s view. The edges of her vision blurred as her head swam.
He leaned down and butted his face against hers. “Breathe, princess.”
“I-I’m trying,” she gasped.
“Don’t let them get in your head.”
It wasn’t just them. It was the weight of his expectations of her and the ghost of her father chastising her for not being as socially polished as her sisters.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she confessed.
“You can.”
When she shook her head, he pressed his lips to her temple.
“No one can make you feel inferior if you don’t let them.”
Rough fingertips skimmed her naked back, distracting her from some jackass off to the left, who was asking how quickly they’d married after her father died.
“You’re a Hennessy, the heir to a dynasty. This is what Maximus groomed you for,” he growled. “You belong here more than me.”
“I’ve never belonged here,” she muttered as he palmed her ass.
“Maximus knew you’d thrive here. Why do you think he gave you your inheritance?” When she stiffened, his voice dropped. “This is where we belong—where we would have been a long time ago, if Maximus hadn’t interfered.”
His lips trailed along her hairline. There was a ton of activity around them, but Roth ignored it, giving her the time she desperately needed to regain her composure.
“I’ve been building up to this moment my whole life. To receive invitations to events no amount of money can secure, to be counted a peer amongst men I studied and emulated. To look my enemies in the eye on their turf so they know how badly they failed before I take everything from them.” His voice hardened, deepened. “This is your moment too. To step out from your family’s shadow and show you’re a force to be reckoned with. You know how to play the game. Maximus showed you how to win.” His hand splayed on her lower back. “This is our moment. I need you to walk in there with me with your head held high and prove they couldn’t break us. Can you do that for me, princess?”
She tipped her head back and was ensnared by his fierce warrior’s gaze. The force of his indomitable will pressed upon her. Waves of confidence, reassurance, and strength flowed from him to her, dissipating the anxiety and shame. Instantly, her equilibrium began to stabilize. That weightless, euphoric blank space she’d only attained after rough sex began to blot out the cacophony around them, giving her overactive senses a much-needed break.
“You can do this.”
There wasn’t a shred of doubt in his voice; it was pure steel.
She stopped thinking about herself and everyone around them and focused solely on him. He concealed how important this night was to him. Why? Because he thought she wouldn’t understand? She, more than anyone, knew what an honor it was. Receiving a personal invitation from Sullivan Trentham was unheard of and unequivocal proof that he had made it. Roth was claiming his spot in society at the highest tier possible, but his crowning moment wouldn’t be complete without her participation. Not only could she guide him through this quagmire so he could make the most of the opportunities that crossed his path, but their marriage was also a blatant fuck you to her father’s cronies who would be here tonight en masse.
He set his forehead against hers. “I need you.”
Things weren’t settled between them, but she wouldn’t sabotage his night. Not because of their deal, but because he deserved to have his moment. He’d worked his ass off to get here. No financial accomplishment had ever satisfied him, but perhaps being accepted at this level would give him that sense of fulfillment that had eluded him. She hadn’t been able to help him through the hardships her dad heaped on him, but she could help him on one of the most important nights of his life and make sure he shined.
“Jasmine.”
His tone was part-demand, part-doubtful.
She reached up and stroked his cheek. He stiffened but didn’t pull away, knowing physical touch grounded her. She wished things were better between them; that he was truly happy with her and had shelved his icy reserve because he cared about her rather than because he needed her to perform. But he was a businessman first and foremost and would do anything to accomplish his goals, same as her father. She should be used to it by now.
But she could benefit from this as well. Her return to society was inevitable. What better comeback was there than to be on the arm of the underdog of the century? The man the elites hadn’t been able to cow. She looked the part of a billionaire’s wife. Now, she had to embody it.
She dropped her hand and gave him the first smile she’d been able to muster all week. “I’m ready.”
His eyes blazed as he gripped her hip. “You were born for this.” His voice vibrated with conviction.
“I know.” That’s why he’d chosen her.
He dipped his head and kissed her. Startled, she drew back, only to have his mouth latch on, demanding she give herself to him. He twined his fingers with hers and pinned her hands against the wall on either side of her head. The part of her mind that was still functioning warned her this wasn’t the time or place for this. The way he was kissing her wasn’t for an audience. Then again, this was his night, and if this was how he wanted to celebrate, who was she to stop him? After a long, lonely week, she didn’t have the will to protest.
When he raised his head, she was pleasantly lightheaded.
“Okay?” he rasped.
“Never better,” she sighed.
His eyes gleamed with predatory excitement. He was like a shark scenting blood, eager for the kill. He kissed her again—this time hard and swift—before grasping her hand.
She still felt a twinge of uncertainty. She wasn’t sure how helpful she’d be. The reason she’d been so effective the night they met was because she knew most of the guests. The Trenthams’ were a totally different ball game. Their global interests and industries they dealt in, she knew nothing about. Nevertheless, she’d do her best to assist him.
Roth moved through the dense and strangely silent crowd, which parted to let them pass. She knew news of their inappropriate make-out session would circulate. Had he kissed her to cancel out gossip about her breakdown? Did it matter? If she was wearing this gown, she might as well live up to her wild reputation.
This time, she didn’t resist when Roth entered the ballroom. She wasn’t sure if it was the surplus of gold, her nerves, or the fact she was treading on what felt like holy ground, but her insides began to buzz as if she’d taken a shot of alcohol.
Roth headed toward a group surrounding a man in a tux with a white bow tie, who noticed Roth’s approach and grinned broadly. Those around the man turned to see who’d caught his eye. The older man excused himself and didn’t bother maneuvering through the crowd—it parted for him the same way it did for Roth. He didn’t have Roth’s size or aggressive energy, which could only mean...
“Sullivan,” Roth acknowledged.
“You made it!” The man clapped Roth fondly on the shoulder.
“We wouldn’t miss it.”
The man focused on her. He had spellbinding eyes the darkest shade of blue she’d ever seen. His wavy hair had been slicked down, but the ends were beginning to curl. He had a full beard—more appropriate for a man who lived in the woods than this mansion.
“You must be Jasmine,” he said.
“Pleasure to meet you.” She took his hand and felt her lips curve as he gallantly kissed it.
“Would you honor me with a dance, my dear?”
His question ripped a hole in her blank space, which began to deflate like a balloon. She was supposed to stand at Roth’s side, smile, and look pretty, not dance or converse one-on-one with their host. She held her tongue, giving Roth time to come up with some clever excuse to get her out of this.
Sullivan’s attention shifted to Roth. “I guess I should be asking you,” he said jovially. “May I dance with your beautiful wife?” When Roth didn’t answer immediately, Sullivan chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring her back.”
Roth’s hand slid down her spine before he murmured, “Yes, bring her back to me.”
Sullivan waved his hand, and magically, the dance floor began to clear as people backed off to the sidelines. “Shall we?”
Jasmine tried desperately to hang onto the void, but as Sullivan pulled her away from Roth’s raw magnetism, the ugly emotions began to creep back in. What the hell was going on here? Roth told her he knew Sullivan, but to act as if the festivities could begin now that they’d arrived, and single her out for a dance when there were hundreds present... She was missing something vital, but there was no time to ponder what that could be, because Sullivan turned to face her.
A hush fell over the ballroom as she took his hand and placed the other on his shoulder. Only then did she register there was no music. As her eyes rounded in horror, the first notes of a violin filled the room.
Sullivan chuckled as he took the first step. His eyes warmed with approval when she followed his lead. “I pay them to be ready at a moment’s notice.”
“They’re cutting it close,” she muttered before she remembered who she was talking to.
Sullivan grinned. “Want me to fire them?”
“No.”
Whispers swept across the room, but she was too busy trying not to trip over her feet to pay attention. Sullivan was doing the basic steps of a slow waltz, with some improvisation here and there. He was clearly a skilled dancer, which helped her relax a little. Those three summers of dance classes she’d thought had gone to waste were saving her ass right now.
She kept her gaze fixed over his shoulder and made sure her social mask was firmly in place. Only he could feel the tension in her body, but who wouldn’t be unnerved by an impromptu dance in front of an audience?
“Your father would be proud,” Sullivan said.
Her eyes flicked from the sea of blurry faces to him. Her brows began to come together before she remembered the spectators. “I think you have me confused with one of my sisters, Mr. Trentham.”
His eyes sparkled with humor. “Call me Sullivan, and I don’t have you confused with your sisters. I have the right Hennessy daughter—the black sheep of the clan.”
She missed a step. “Excuse me?”
“You caused quite the scandal.”
The last thing she’d expected was to openly address her past with their host. She didn’t know what else to say except, “That was a long time ago.”
“I’m sure you’ll find everyone remembers the details of your affair just fine.”
Her temper flared at feeling like the butt of some joke. “Which is why I didn’t want to come.”
He threw back his head and laughed as if she’d told a hilarious joke. She started to draw away, but he didn’t let her escape. He used her step away to spin her and bring her back to him. To her chagrin, the music began to build. Sullivan swept her across the ballroom, which felt as large as a football field.
“You don’t disappoint, my dear.”
“The night is young,” she quipped, inwardly castigating herself for her wayward tongue.
“Rebellious, beautiful, poised, intelligent. The Hennessy blood runs strong in you. I can see why Roth risked it all for you.”
She looked away from his penetrating gaze. “I didn’t know you were acquainted with my husband.”
“Roth approached me before he was run out of New York. He wanted my help. I admired his guts, but I didn’t give him the aid he wanted.” He gave a small shrug. “I also didn’t participate in your father’s mission to cripple him either. Thank God for that. I didn’t think I’d hear his name again—people come and go every day in this business—but I kept an eye on him, and when I saw what he was doing across the pond, I realized my mistake and reached out to him.”
“ You reached out to Roth ?”
“I’d be a fool not to. Anyone who bet against him is paying dearly for it now.” He shook his head. “It’s too bad he and Maximus couldn’t put their differences aside to do business together. They could have made history.”
“They should have set their differences aside for the sake of family, not business,” she said tartly and instantly regretted her words.
Thus far, Sullivan was nothing like the tyrant he was reputed to be, but just because he wasn’t showing that side of himself didn’t mean there wasn’t truth to those rumors. She should be engaging in mundane, innocuous conversation, not arguing with him. But the familiar way he was speaking to her short-circuited her training, so she responded just as candidly.
“You’re quite right, my dear. My apologies. I’m a reformed businessman trying to turn over a new leaf. Sometimes, I forget myself and revert to what I know best. Acquire, expand, repeat. I thought if I kept doing that, everything in my life would fall into place.”
Although the smile stayed on his face, it dialed down a few notches. His eyes glazed over as he reflected inwardly.
“Why is it that we old men only learn what’s important at the end of our lives, when it’s too late to change anything?”
She didn’t try to answer the rhetorical question. She sensed the conversation had taken a turn, and she didn’t know how to steer it back into socially acceptable waters.
“I called Maximus after he disowned you to warn him the affair wasn’t worth losing family over. He wouldn’t listen.” His mouth tightened, and he looked away. “Neither did I. I didn’t change after I lost my wife to leukemia, but when I lost Lily, I realized my accomplishments were meaningless.” A pause, and then he rasped, “You know about my Lily.”
She considered lying out of politeness but knew he would know otherwise. It had been all over the news.
“Yes. My condolences.”
“I was hard on all my kids, but Lily wasn’t like Nathaniel or Charlotte. She was soft. I thought I could change that and broke her instead. She saw suicide as her only way out.” His chest expanded and his grip tightened before he controlled himself. “I’ve been trying to change my legacy, but I can’t reset the course. Nathaniel’s turned into the worse version of me after his wife overdosed. He would rather expand our empire than have a relationship with his child. I keep trying to tell him, she is the empire.”
Sullivan’s despair was palpable. At the moment, he didn’t look like one of the most powerful men in the world or the ruthless magnate her father had admired. He looked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. For some reason, he seemed hell-bent on confessing his sins as they danced. Although he claimed to know who she was, she still felt as if there’d been some horrible mistake, and he had her mixed up with someone else.
“Why are you telling me this?” she whispered.
He cocked his head. “I thought you’d understand.”
She blinked. “Me?”
“I see Lily in you.” His eyes moved over her face as if he saw his late daughter in her features. “You didn’t fit in with the rest of the family, you were strong enough to walk away. I know that wasn’t easy.”
“I had no choice.”
“You had a choice. You chose the harder path. You stood up to Maximus and then Roth and rejected what they valued most—money and prestige. It’s probably the best thing that ever happened to either of them. It takes someone with character, conviction, and guts to stand up to the force of nature they are. I commend you for that.”
The paternal approval made her swallow hard.
“Charlotte’s forgiven me for all the terrible things I’ve done. There’s something about a loving daughter that brings fathers to their knees, even the great Maximus.” His eyes flicked over her shoulder before his smile returned, brighter than ever. “And an otherwise invincible man like your husband to wear his heart on his sleeve. You have his undivided attention, my dear.”
Roth was probably watching her like a hawk to make sure she was making a good impression.
“We’re newlyweds.”
He gave her an arched look. “Way I hear it, you’ve had his attention for seven years.”
“It’ll pass.” The words slipped out before she could stop herself.
As his eyes widened, a thunderbolt of fear lanced through her. She was supposed to be playing a lovesick fool, not predicting their end.
Sullivan paused to laugh uproariously, which inspired several couples to take the dance floor to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“You really are a Hennessy,” he chortled. “Keep that up, and his attention will never stray. I was overjoyed to see the wedding announcement and your family in attendance this time around. It gives me hope my kids will be there for each other once I’m gone.”
Her intuition pinged. “Are you...?”
“Stage four cancer.”
“I’m sorry,” she said with genuine regret.
“Me too,” he said prosaically. “I don’t know how much time I have left, so I’m trying to make a difference while I’m still here. Seeing you and Roth overcome your past and take on the world together... That’s what I want for my kids. To find a partner who’ll stick by them through it all.”
Apparently, he believed in their romantic propaganda. Perhaps his illness had made him fanciful. It was understandable that he’d want to believe in happily ever after when faced with death. But the fact he’d put her and Roth on a pedestal made her uncomfortable. The urge to confide the truth was so strong she opened her mouth to confess that next Christmas they’d be divorced, but his wistful smile made her swallow the truth.
“If there’s anything I can do...” she said instead.
“There is,” he said immediately. “Make sure you find Charlotte. She wants to talk to you about something.”
Before she could ask what his daughter could possibly want to speak to her about, he halted and presented her to the crowd as if they’d finished a choreographed number on a dance show.
“Jasmine Roth, everyone!”
There was a smattering of applause, but mostly, people’s heads were inclined toward one another as they gossiped. Jasmine wasn’t sure what to do, so for the first time in her life, she did a freaking curtsy. She searched the crowd for Roth and was overjoyed to see Colette and Lyle standing beside him. As Sullivan escorted her to them, she took in Lyle’s black tux with a white bow tie and her sister’s eye-catching one-shoulder bronze dress with a caped sleeve. The sheath silhouette complimented Colette’s slim form, while the crystal beading made her shimmer. Colette’s hair was done in soft waves—a distinct change from her customary twist or chignon.
Colette smiled. “Those dancing lessons you took when you were thirteen paid off.”
She was startled by her sister’s playful banter in this setting, with Sullivan Trentham present. The fact Colette even remembered she took dancing lessons, much less the age she’d been when she took them, disconcerted her.
Colette didn’t wait for a response but curtsied just as she had. As Colette and Lyle exchanged pleasantries with Sullivan, she took her place at Roth’s side.
He drew her against him and kissed the top of her head, clearly pleased with the dance she’d had with Sullivan. She relaxed against him and let go of her insecurities. She could do this.