Chapter 16 #2
He still couldn’t quite believe he was there, that Ireland hadn’t removed his name from the guest list. Her phone still blocked his number, and she hadn’t come into the Vidal offices at all. He’d waited for her there all day, wanting her to see that the recording studios were up and running as he’d promised they would be, with Six-Ninths and two young female singers busy inside them all day. They’d all still been hard at work when he’d finally remembered Ireland’s invitation after listening to her voicemails again because he missed the sound of her voice.
Laughing silently to himself, he thought again how humbling it was to be kicked to the curb by a woman who occupied his every waking thought. He had known that she could cut him off at any moment like she did every man she became involved with. And that she would do so quickly.
I’ve never been with anyone long enough for it to become serious , she’d told him . I tend to check out of relationships fairly quickly.
It was some sort of self-defense mechanism, and he would get to the root of it. He’d committed to that decision when he acknowledged the slim chance that maybe she’d ended whatever they had, not because of the reasons she’d given him but because that was what she always did.
He searched for her, his gaze sweeping over the massive room repeatedly. Cross should’ve disappeared in such a crowd of loud colors and outrageous masks. While many of the male guests in the room wore colorful suits in various textured fabrics, Cross wore a standard tuxedo and rather plain mask of pure black with simple embellishments.
His wife was also markedly less flamboyant in her attire than the other women present. Eva Cross’s gown of gray silk draped a petite, voluptuous figure similar to Scarlett’s. Her mask was a feminine version of her husband’s but in silver. She was, however, dripping with millions of dollars in precious gems at her throat, ears, wrists, and fingers. They were sometimes referred to as the Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor of today, with Cross often making headlines for gifting his wife with exceptionally rare jewelry.
A now-familiar sensation gripped Ronan, and he knew Ireland was close. He searched more intensely for her tall, slim figure, unsure of whether her hair would be worn up or down. The music faded into silence, and an announcer’s voice projected from the speakers.
“And now, welcome back our emcee, Ireland Vidal!”
The room erupted in applause. Facing the stage, he watched her enter from the wings with her outrageously sexy feline stride, which was both aggressive and erotic at once. She looked like the goddess she was, her willowy body hugged in an aqua gown that became steadily darker in hue from her hips to the floor as if she’d just stepped out of water. Her mask covered only one eye and was decorated with a profusion of peacock feathers that flared from her shoulder to the top of her head. Her long hair was unrestrained and swayed behind her as she reached center stage. She held a microphone in one hand and a slip of paper in the other.
Ronan had never wanted anything or anyone more. It took supreme effort not to cross the room and climb the stage to claim her, every instinct screaming at him that she belonged to him in some way he didn’t yet comprehend.
“I have what you’ve all been waiting for,” she began, her smile lighting up the room as she waved the paper in her hand.
And then she found him, her gaze unerring and intense. Her smile held firm, but her body went still. They simply looked at one another for a long moment, electric awareness coursing between them.
“Our final bachelor has arrived!” she exclaimed with a fiendish smile, and the room’s energy changed. “He may not be punctual, but he’s worth the wait. Ladies and gentlemen, Ronan McCaffrey!”
Pour l’amour de dieu!
Eva felt Gideon’s arm tense beneath her fingers as Ireland announced Ronan McCaffrey to the room. She tilted her face up to his, about to remind him to keep a lid on his simmering temper when Richard Stanton walked up to them.
Her mother’s widower smiled at them both. “I’m going to call it a night, you two. I was waiting to hear how much was raised, but I’m fading fast.”
“Always good to see you,” Gideon said, loud enough to be heard over the crowd’s sudden boisterous excitement at his sister’s announcement of an additional bachelor to the auction.
She could hear the fury in his voice and noted how his gaze was fixed beyond Richard to someone in the crowd. She was too short to see anything, and her agitation increased.
Her stepfather exchanged a brief backslapping hug with Gideon, then he moved to her and gripped her by the shoulders. He took a long look before pressing a brief, dry kiss to her cheek. He was dapper in his tuxedo, fit and trim as ever. However, time had begun to curve his back, and sadly, slow him down. The way he walked was noticeably stiff.
It hurt Eva’s heart, even as she hoped to be as healthy when she was his age.?
Gideon gently removed her hand from his arm. “Excuse me.”
To her horror, her husband left her side with an angry stride. She looked helplessly at Richard, unable to leave him.
His lips parted as he moved to say something, then closed on a forlorn smile as he changed his mind.
Eva knew he still grieved her mother deeply and that their close resemblance was why he’d avoided seeing her for almost a year after Lauren—the woman he knew as Monica—had passed. She was glad they’d been able to move past that and reach a point where they lunched together at least twice a month and enjoyed the holidays together.?
“Thank you so much for coming, Richard,” she told him warmly, even as she dreaded the possibility of a confrontation between her husband and Ireland’s man.
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything, Eva love. Like your mother, you know how to throw a party.”?
“Are we still on for lunch Wednesday?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t miss that, either.”
They hugged, and he left her, but the guests had once again moved closer to the stage. There were round tables that sat twelve, and everyone had a seat, but most chose to walk around or loiter by the bars. And when the auction was in progress, many chose to stand on the dance floor in front of the stage. Since that was where she was, Eva found herself hemmed in. There were many disadvantages to being short, and pushing her way through a shoulder-to-shoulder crowd was one of them.
“Hey, baby girl.”
Eva turned in relief at the sound of Cary’s voice. “Hey. Can you see where Gideon is?”
“I passed him on the way over. Let me tell you, the Red Seas parted for the look of mayhem on his face. Who pissed him off?” Cary looked as debonair as a classic Hollywood leading man in his Brioni tux.
“Ireland and that guy.” She pointed at Ronan as he crossed the stage. He cut a dashing figure dressed in a white dinner jacket over his black tuxedo slacks. His mask had elaborate curved horns like a ram or forest god, and when he drew abreast of Ireland in her towering stilettos, they were nearly eye to eye.
Cary whistled. “Saved the best for last, I see.”
The guests seemed to agree, especially when Ireland reached up and removed Ronan’s mask, revealing his stunningly handsome face. A tangible stir was felt. That Ronan only had eyes for Ireland was evident to all, and her returning stare was so heated with yearning that Eva winced thinking about Gideon seeing it.
“The sexual tension between those two is thicker than his hard-on,” Cary noted.?
“Not that you can tell from here,” Eva countered drily.?
“I refuse to fantasize a small cock on a man that gorgeous.”?
She shook her head and dug her phone out of her clutch to text Gideon, half-listening as Ireland relayed Ronan’s attributes to the crowd. She knew her husband was thinking of only one thing: the man was a convicted murderer who had designs on his sister.
Disaster seemed inevitable.
Ronan McCaffrey Boudreaux brought in the largest auction bid of all time: twenty-five thousand dollars. The winning bidder was a hotel heiress, and Ireland would’ve been outrageously, irrationally jealous if she’d had time to think about it. But she didn't have time to worry about anything beyond the next five minutes when she spotted her brother moving toward the stage with Chase, Raúl, and two hotel security guards.
“Come with me,” she said urgently, grabbing Ronan’s hand and pulling him to the wings.
He didn’t resist; instead, seemed completely happy to follow her and totally oblivious to the threats closing in around him. A confrontation with her brother was inevitable, but after avoiding Gideon’s calls all day, she knew he was already unhappy with her. Surely, there was a way to have him in a neutral mood, at the very least, before he met Ronan for the first time.
Frantic, she debated where to go. The security at the event was so tight she could hardly move without bumping into someone in either the hotel’s security uniform or someone in a black suit wearing an earpiece. She pushed through a door into an unfamiliar service hallway.
“Left or right?” she asked him curtly, indecisive in her panic.
“Right,” he answered smoothly as if nothing at all was wrong with anything.
Her heels clicked frantically as she rushed with no destination in mind. She flashed a smile when she spotted a hotel security guard standing in front of a service elevator. “Mind if we use that?” she asked sweetly.
“It’s to the mezzanine,” he replied, “which is closed.” Then his gaze narrowed briefly, then widened with recognition. “Sorry, Ms. Vidal. Go ahead.”
“Thanks.” She and Ronan stepped into the elevator. It had only one button to ascend the one floor and she pushed it repeatedly as if that would make the doors shut faster.
The service elevator was slower than the guest elevator, leaving her trapped in a small space with Ronan’s mouthwatering scent and even more mouthwatering body. She backed into the rear corner, but he followed, his gaze hot on her face.
“I can’t believe you just sold me, cher ,” he drawled, his fingers brushing over her cheek in a tingling caress.
“You shouldn’t have come here. My brother is hunting you down now.”
“How else could I talk to you before the weekend?”
She groaned. “You’re not supposed to talk to me at all!”
He gave her a patient look as the doors opened. Pushing him out of the way, she exited the elevator and hurried to the railing, looking down at the guests below and searching for her brother and his goons.
Ronan joined her at the railing but leaned back against it, facing her. “You made some valid points last night,” he began smoothly. “But I have a proposal for you.”
She glanced at him, then looked away. “Hurry up. I’ve got to get you out of here.”
His mouth curved in a knowing, indulgent smile. “Still protective, I see. A good sign for me. Listen, you said you don’t want to live two lives, but you’ve only experienced one. You have to come home with me and try out the other one before you reject it out of hand.”
“That’s insane,” she said tersely.
“Is it, though? Basing decisions on supposition instead of facts is bad business.”
She looked at him again.
His one raised brow challenged her. “What do you have to lose?” he cajoled. “You’ll have a lovely time, at the very least.”
Shaking her head, she looked down again and found Gideon surveying the crowd from the stage. “I’m going back down there to distract my brother. When you see me with him, you’re going downstairs and leaving. Got it? You. Are. Leaving. Before he finds you.”
Ireland started back toward the elevator, and he caught her arm, releasing her quickly and lifting both hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’ll go,” he promised. “But I’ll wait for you at the Teterboro airport until midnight. If you show up, we’ll enjoy the weekend and decide about the future on Sunday. If you don’t show up, you won’t see me again. We’ll work around each other.”
She looked at him for a long minute, wanting everything he offered almost as badly as she was afraid to want it. The urge to kiss him, press against him, was physically painful.
Turning away, Ireland left him behind to find Gideon.
Ronan watched the guests from the mezzanine, noting how Cross, with two men in nondescript black suits and two hotel security guards, was surveying the crowd.
For him, apparently. He was almost flattered.
Cross would be a trevail , though. He wasn’t at all happy about that, considering what trouble the man’s sister was giving him.
Exhaling heavily, he damned himself for offering Ireland the choice he had. She’d been so harried and rushed, though. He’d acted on instinct, as he always did with her, sensing—hopefully correctly—that adding urgency via a midnight deadline would work in his favor.
He spotted her down below, the aqua hue of her dress eye-catching even among so many brightly attired guests. She was hunting for her brother, and he did the same, realizing that he’d lost sight of Cross while looking for his sister. He did find the woman who’d paid twenty-five thousand dollars for a two-hour lunch with him and sighed. Ireland certainly had inventive and devious ways to punish him. And here he stood, eager for more. What had she done to him?
Feeling his phone buzz in his jacket pocket, Ronan pulled it out and saw another missed call from his grand-mère and a text from his brother.
I have never been more worried about you. I feel an intervention is necessary.
Closing his eyes briefly, he considered how best to soothe his family's concerns. How would his siblings react when he brought Ireland home with him? Because he refused even to consider that his tigress wouldn’t accompany him. And he would not be taking her to Bellefleur, that was certain. Harper could be the loveliest and most welcome hostess, but she could also be quite vicious. All while couching her sentiments in Southern charm, of course.
He looked at his phone and realized he hadn’t given himself much time, either. The clock was ticking for him, too. It wouldn’t do for him not to be there at midnight when she arrived.
Ireland would come.
Wouldn’t she?
Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Ronan turned toward the elevator.
And found himself facing Gideon Cross.
Ireland couldn’t believe she couldn’t find Gideon. Everyone in the room was there for him and wanted an audience, however brief. How could he just disappear?
She looked up at the mezzanine, but no one was there. The service elevator was hidden in an alcove and not visible from below, so Ronan was either on his way down or had already made his way out.
“There you are,” Alina said, coming up beside her. “Where’d you go? What happened to Ronan? You were both gone when I came out to escort him off.”
She looked at her best friend and could almost hear a ticking clock. It was stupid. She needed to forget Ronan had shown up at all. The man's audacity was astounding. He had a death wish or something. Thank god, Gideon didn’t know about Ronan’s criminal history.
Ice settled like a brick in her gut. Unless Angus had shared his report with her brother. Would he do that? Damn it. Why hadn’t she clarified that she was counting on his discretion?
“Hey,” Alina said, snapping her fingers in front of Ireland’s face. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”
Ireland grabbed Alina’s hands in her own. “Ronan asked me to go home with him for the weekend. To meet him at the airport at midnight.”
Her best friend’s eyes widened. “Seriously? And you’re thinking about going?”
“If I don’t, he says I’ll never see him again.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” She squeezed Ireland’s cold fingers.
“I did. Now, I don’t know.” And why not? She’d broken things off. Earlier in the evening, she’d told herself that she was at least one day into getting over him. One day at a time, she’d eventually return to normal.
And then he’d appeared, looking like a pagan god in his horned mask, still looking every inch the Southern gentleman in his white dinner jacket. A lion in sheep’s clothing. And she’d wanted him so keenly she’d trembling with it.
“He says I can’t say I don’t want to try when I haven’t really tried,” she told Alina.
“Honey, you don’t even know if you can trust him when he keeps such big secrets.”
“But I do trust him,” she confessed. “When he tells me things, I believe him. I just… I feel like…”
She shrugged lamely but began to quiver with excitement. Alina gave her a gentle, loving smile and then hugged her tightly.
“Go,” she urged. “You’ll have to hurry.”
Fully committed now, Ireland hurried through the hotel, ordering a rideshare pickup on the way. She kept her head down to avoid making eye contact with anyone who might try to stop her for conversation. Taking one last look at the make, model, and license plate info of the car picking her up, she slipped her phone back into the sleeve on her thigh.
She rushed through the automatic doors, leaving the almost too-cool air conditioning for the warmth and humidity outside. The weather would be even muggier in New Orleans, and she perversely looked forward to it because being pressed against Ronan’s body when they were both slick with sweat was an outrageous turn-on for her. She couldn’t explain it.
The rideshare pickup area was packed. Several cars were lined up in numbered stalls while a row of waiting vehicles hugged the walkway. She saw the model car she was expecting and quickened her pace to see if it was her assigned vehicle and driver. When the back door to a black Chevy Suburban opened in front of her, she shifted to go around it.
Ireland realized too late that someone was closer behind her than was comfortable. By the time she got out of her head enough to acknowledge the warning tingle racing down her spine, a hand clamped on her forearm. Shifting her weight, she spun and prepared to strike…
…and was smothered in black velvet from behind. Unable to see or breathe, her momentum was used to shove her into the backseat of the SUV. She screamed but was muffled by the voluminous material that pinned her arms to her sides. The sound of terror cut off abruptly as her breath was knocked from her by brutal impact with the rear seat. A big male body smelling of stale cigarettes crowded in behind her. Someone opened the front passenger door and climbed in.
Both doors slammed shut. The Suburban’s tires squealed in protest at the sudden hard acceleration. Then, the SUV lurched forward and sped away.