Читать книгу Saving His Blackmailed Lover - Джанис Мейнард, Maureen Child - Страница 16

Seven

“So, are you friends with Wes or Isabelle?” Deacon asked as they slipped into the crowd mingling at the clubhouse.

Cecelia twisted her lips as she tried to come up with a good answer. “Neither, really. Wes and I are business rivals. We dated a while back, but that’s it. I don’t really know Isabelle that well, either.”

“Why would he invite his ex to his engagement party?”

That was a good question, considering she was also the reason he’d gone years without knowing he had a daughter. She still felt bad about misjudging that whole situation. She’d helped to correct it in the end, but Wes would never get that time back, and that was her fault. “Well, in a roundabout way, I did help bring him and Isabelle back together after they broke up a few years ago.”

“How’s that?”

She shook her head and reached out for a flute of champagne being passed on a tray by a waiter in the standard black-and-white uniform of the club. Cecelia hesitated to tell Deacon what she’d done. He still saw her as the sweet girl he’d dated in school, and she didn’t want him to see her any differently. “You don’t want to know.”

“Not good?” Deacon asked.

She shrugged. “Let’s just say it wasn’t my finest moment. But it all turned out well in the end, and since Isabelle invited me despite it all, I knew I needed to come and work on mending those bridges.” Leaning into him, she spoke quieter so others nearby couldn’t hear her. “I fear that before too long, I’ll need all the friends I can get.”

Deacon slipped a protective arm around her waist. “If anyone so much as says an ugly word to you tonight, I’ll punch them in the jaw.”

Cecelia smiled and leaned into his embrace. She wouldn’t mind seeing Chip sprawled across the worn hardwood floor of the club, but that would cause more trouble than it was worth. And she probably deserved some of those ugly words. “That won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

As they turned back toward the crowd, the people parted and Isabelle rushed forward to give Cecelia a hug. She looked radiant tonight in a shimmering bronze cocktail dress that brought out the copper in her hazel eyes. “Cecelia, you made it! I’m so glad.”

Cecelia accepted the hug and smiled as warmly as she could. Once she realized she’d been wrong about Isabelle’s gold-digging ways, she found she really did like her. Now she just had to fight off the pangs of envy where Wes’s fiancée was concerned. Soon, Isabelle would have the family that Cecelia had always wanted. She shouldn’t hold that against her, though. It was a long time coming, raising Caroline as a single mother, in part because of Cecelia’s meddling.

Turning to her date, Cecelia introduced them. “Isabelle, this is Deacon Chase. He’s building The Bellamy with Shane Delgado.”

Isabelle smiled and shook his hand. “I’m so excited for the hotel to open. It looks amazing from the outside.”

Cecelia could tell Deacon was nervous, but he was handling it well. “Thank you,” he said politely. “It looks amazing on the inside, too, thanks to Cecelia’s great designs. Congratulations on your engagement.”

“Thank you.”

“It looks like a great turnout,” Cecelia noted. “Even Teddy Bradford is here.” That was a surprise to everyone, she was certain. She knew the CEO of Playco had been in merger negotiations with Wes before Maverick outed him as a deadbeat dad. Teddy espoused family values and had dropped Wes’s Texas Toy Company like a rock when he found out about Isabelle and Caroline.

“I actually invited him,” Isabelle confided. “I haven’t given up on the Playco merger, even if Wes thinks all is lost. I’m hoping that when he sees us together he’ll reconsider the deal.”

Cecelia could only nod blankly at Isabelle’s machinations. The merger of Playco and Texas Toy Company wouldn’t be good news for To the Moon and its bottom line, which is why Cecelia had kept her mouth shut where that was concerned. Wes was her biggest business rival. However, the success of Luna Fine Furnishings would make her untouchable if she could compete in both the adult and child luxury design markets. At the moment, things were going well enough that she didn’t care if Teddy took Wes back.

“Good luck with that,” she managed politely. “And congratulations on the engagement.”

Isabelle crossed her fingers and said her goodbyes, slipping away to find Wes in the crowd. Once she was gone, Cecelia and Deacon continued to make their way through the room, saying hello and mingling appropriately. When they found the food, they each made a small plate and had a seat among some of the other guests. A long buffet had been set up for the party, with the centerpiece being a cake shaped like two hearts side by side with a third, smaller heart piped in pastel pink icing on top to represent their daughter. It was sweet.

They were perhaps an hour into the party, with no sign of Chip, and Cecelia was finally starting to relax. Maybe this event wouldn’t be such a nightmare. Being there with Deacon had changed everything. She felt confident on his arm, which was a far cry from the times she’d gone to events with Chip. She was always on edge with him, wondering if she looked good enough, if she was saying the right thing... Now that it was over, she couldn’t imagine a lifetime of being his wife. All she would have ever been was a prop he’d haul out at campaign rallies and fund-raisers. A Stepford wife in a tasteful linen suit with helmet hair and a single strand of pearls.

No way. Those days were behind her, and she’d never make that mistake again.

“I would like to propose a toast,” Teddy Bradford said as he took position center stage with the microphone to draw everyone’s attention. Cecelia noted that the boisterous old man was wearing his best bolo tie for the occasion. The crowd gathered around the stage to hear what he had to say. “Wesley, Isabelle, get on up here!”

The happy couple walked hand in hand to the stage and to stand beside Teddy.

“No one here is happier to see these two lovebirds tie the knot than I am. To me, and to the employees of Playco, family is everything. I had thought that perhaps Wesley felt differently, but I’m pleased—for once—to be proven wrong. Not only do I want to wish the couple all the happiness in the world, I want to wish it as Wesley’s new business partner.”

His words were followed by a roar of applause from the crowd. Wes turned to Isabelle with a look of shock on his face before he turned and shook Teddy’s hand. Cecelia could only smile. Isabelle seemed sweet, but she was shrewd, as well. She had managed to accomplish tonight what Wes had been unable to over the past three months. Bravo. Perhaps she had more competition in the Texas Toy Company than she thought with Isabelle behind the scenes.

Wes turned back to Isabelle, they kissed and everyone in the club went wild. Deacon held Cecelia tighter to his side as though he sensed tension in her.

“Is this bad news for your company?” he whispered in her ear. Clearly, he knew it was or he wouldn’t be asking.

“Perhaps, but I’m trying not to look at it that way. Those kinds of thoughts were what landed me such a miserable reputation in town. That’s a worry for another day. Tonight I’d rather focus on the happy couple.”

He nodded and pressed a kiss into her temple. “Then that’s what we’re going to do.”

Cecelia sighed contentedly in his arms while Isabelle and Wes cut the cake and pieces started circulating around the room. “They cut the cake,” she noted. “Cake is the universal sign at parties that it’s finally okay to take your leave.”

“Are you ready to go so soon?” Deacon asked. “I thought you were having a good time. And it looks like strawberry cake. We should probably at least stick around to have some. I love strawberry cake.”

“When did you get such a sweet tooth?” Cecelia asked.

“It started back in high school when I couldn’t get enough of your sugar.”

Cecelia laughed aloud and leaned close. “You don’t need any cake, then. You’re getting plenty of sugar once we get out of here. You’ve made it through the night with no complaints, and you should be rewarded.”

Deacon smiled. “I’m glad you agree. It wasn’t that bad, though.” His glance moved around the room at the club and the people who frequented it. “I think I’d made more of this place in my mind because I couldn’t be a part of it.”

“No one would dare keep you out now.”

Cecelia felt her phone vibrate in her purse, but she wasn’t going to get it out just yet. As they waited on cake, she noticed quite a few people pulling theirs out.

“Oh, my God, honey.” Simone ran up to her and clapped her hand over her mouth to hold back a sob.

Cecelia looked at her and again around the room in sudden panic. One person after another seemed to be looking down at his or her phone. The feeling of dread was hard for Cecelia to suppress. Especially when those same people immediately sought out Cecelia when they looked up.

Had Maverick’s deadline already come and gone so soon? She had consciously decided not to pay the blackmail money again, but she never dreamed it would come out tonight, while she was at the club with everyone else.

“What is it?” she asked as innocently as she could, although she already knew the answer.

Simone held up her phone, showing the screen to her and Deacon. An old newspaper article about the drug overdose of Nicole Wood was there. It even featured the photo of Nicole and her infant daughter, the same one Cecelia carried in her purse. The section was circled in red and accompanied by a note:

Cecelia Morgan? More like Cecelia Wood—a liar and the daughter of a junkie and her dealer. No wonder the Morgans hid the truth. The homecoming queen isn’t so perfect now, is she?

Deacon’s arms tightened around Cecelia as she felt her knees start to buckle beneath her. It was only his support that kept her upright. She looked around the room, and it seemed like everyone was looking at her as though she smelled like horse manure.

Her head started to swim as she heard the voices in the room combine together into a low rumble. She could pick out only pieces of it.

“Who knew she was so low class?”

“I should’ve known she wasn’t really a Morgan. But it looks like she’s not Maverick, either.”

“Her mother probably used drugs during her pregnancy, too. I wonder if that’s why Cecelia is so incapable of empathy.”

“Have they ever revoked someone’s club membership for fraud?”

“You can see the resemblance between her and this Nicole woman. She never had Tilly’s classically beautiful features.”

Cecelia covered her ears with her hands to smother the voices. Her face flushed red, and tears started pouring from her eyes. Deacon said something to her, but she couldn’t hear him. All she could feel was her world crumbling around her. She should’ve made the second blackmail payment. What was she thinking? That he would decide maybe that first payment was enough? That people wouldn’t judge her the way she would’ve judged them not long ago?

It was a huge mistake, and yet, she knew this was a moment that couldn’t be avoided no matter how much cash she shelled out. It wasn’t about the money, she knew that much. He probably didn’t care if he made a dime in the process. Maverick was set on ruining people’s lives.

He would be a happy man tonight.

* * *

Deacon didn’t know who Maverick was, but he sure as hell was going to find out. Why did this sick bastard get pleasure out of hurting people in the club? Deacon would be the first to admit this wasn’t his favorite crowd of people, but who would stoop that low? If he could get his hands on Maverick right now, the coward would have bigger concerns than whose life he could make miserable next.

First things first, however. He could see Cecelia breaking down, and it made his chest ache. He had to get her away from this. With every eye in the room on them, he wrapped his arm around Cecelia and tried to guide her to the exit. She stumbled a few times, as though her legs were useless beneath her, so he stopped long enough to scoop her into his arms and carry her out. She didn’t fight his heroics. Instead, she clung desperately to him, burying her face in the lapel of his suit.

The crowd parted as they made their way to the door. Half the people in the room looked disgusted. Some were in shock. A few more looked worried, probably concerned that their dark secret might be the next exposed by Maverick. There were only a few people in the room who looked at all concerned about Cecelia herself, and that made him almost as angry as he was with the blackmailing bastard that started this mess.

That was the problem with this town—the cliquish bullshit was ridiculous. It was just as bad in high school as it was now. It made him glad that he’d decided to leave Royal instead of staying in this toxic environment.

The problem was that most of the people in the town were in the clique, so they didn’t see the issue. It was only the outsiders who suffered by their viper-pit mentality. Deacon had always been an outsider, and money and prestige hadn’t changed that, not really. He’d gotten through the doors of the club tonight, but he still didn’t fit in. And he didn’t want to.

Yet if he had to bet money on Maverick’s identity, he’d put it on another outsider. Whoever it was was just kicking the hornet’s nest for fun, watching TCC members turn on each other so they would know what it felt like to be him.

Cecelia didn’t need to be around for the fallout. This entire situation was out of her control, and she would be the one to suffer unnecessarily for it. Brent and Tilly should be here, taking on their share of the club’s disgust for forcing her to live this lie to begin with. If they’d been honest about adopting Cecelia, there would’ve been nothing for Maverick to hold over her head.

He shoved the heavy oak door open with his foot and carried her out to the end of the portico. There, he settled her back on her feet. “Are you okay to stand?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, sniffing and wiping the streams of mascara from her flush cheeks.

“I’m going to go get my car. Will you be okay?”

She nodded. Deacon reached into his pocket to get his keys, but before he could step into the parking lot, a figure stumbled out of the dark bushes nearby. He didn’t recognize the man, but he didn’t like the looks of him, either. He was thin with stringy hair and bugged-out eyes. Even without the stink of alcohol and the stumble in his steps, Deacon could tell this was a guy on the edge. Maybe even the kind of guy who would blackmail the whole town.

“Cecelia Wood?” he asked, with a lopsided smile that revealed a mess of teeth inside. “Shoulda seen that one coming, right? Nobody is that perfect. Even a princess like you needs to be knocked off their high horse every now and then, right?”

Deacon stepped protectively between him and Cecelia. “Who the hell is this guy?” he asked.

“Adam Haskell,” she whispered over his shoulder. “He has a small ranch on the edge of town. I’m surprised he hasn’t lost it to the banks yet. All he does is drink anymore.”

The name sounded familiar from Deacon’s childhood, but the man in front of him had lived too many rough years to be recognizable. “Why don’t you call a cab and sleep that booze off, Adam?”

The drunk didn’t even seem to hear him. He was focused entirely on Cecelia. “You had it coming, you know. You can only go through life treating people like dirt for so long before karma comes back and slaps you across the face. Now you’re getting a taste of your own medicine.”

“Now, that’s enough,” Deacon said more forcefully. This time he got Adam’s attention.

“Look at Deacon Chase all grow-w-wn up,” he slurred. “You should hate her as much as I do. She treated you worse than anyone else. Used you and spit you out when she didn’t need you anymore.”

“Adam!” A man’s sharp voice came from the doorway of the club. A lanky but solid man with short blond hair stepped outside with a redhead at his side.

“Mac and Violet McCallum!” Adam said as he turned his attention to them, nearly losing his drunken footing and falling over. “You’re just in time. I was telling Deacon here how he’s made a mistake trying to protect her. She’s made her bed, it’s time for her to lie in it, don’t you think?”

Deacon’s hands curled into fists of rage at his sides. He was getting tired of this guy’s mouth. If he couldn’t get his hands on Maverick, Mr. Haskell would do in a pinch.

“All right, Adam, you know you’re not supposed to be here on the property if you’re not a member of the club. They’ll call the sheriff on you again. You can’t afford the bail.”

“Best sleep I ever get is in the drunk tank,” he declared proudly, then belched.

“Even then.” Mac came up to Adam and put an arm around his shoulder. “How about we give you a ride home, Adam? You don’t need to be driving.”

Adam pouted in disappointment, but he didn’t fight Mac off. “Aw, I’m just having a little fun with her. Right, Cecelia? No harm done.”

Mac just shook his head. “Well, tonight’s not a good night for it. I’m pretty sure the party is over. If you stay around here any longer, it might be a fist and not the vodka that knocks you out tonight.”

Mac was right. Deacon was glad the couple had intervened when they had or he might’ve had to get physical with the scrawny drunk.

“I can take anyone,” Adam muttered.

“I’m sure you can,” Mac agreed and rolled his eyes. “But let’s not risk it tonight and ruin Isabelle’s party any more than it already has been.”

Mac led Adam toward his truck while Violet stayed behind with Deacon and Cecelia. “I’m so sorry, Cecelia,” she said. “This whole thing with Maverick is getting out of hand. I can’t imagine who would want to hurt everyone so badly. And the way people reacted...it’s not right.”

Cecelia came out from behind Deacon, still clinging to his arm. “Thank you, Violet.”

The redhead just nodded sadly and followed Mac and Adam out into the parking lot. Cecelia watched her go with a heavy sigh. “There goes one of the five people in town who hasn’t turned on me.”

He hated hearing that kind of defeat from her. Cecelia was his fighter. He wasn’t about to let Maverick beat her down. “You know what you need?” Deacon asked. “You need to get away from here.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to go home if you don’t mind.”

Home wouldn’t help. Word about her would just spread through town like wildfire, and soon everyone would know. Her parents would show up lamenting how embarrassing this was for them and making Cecelia feel even worse. Her friends would drop in to commiserate and reopen the wounds she was struggling to heal. No, she needed to get the hell out of Royal for a few days.

“I have another idea.” Deacon took her hand and led her to his car. After the scene with Adam, he was too worried to leave her alone in case a partygoer came out of the club and had something nasty to say. When they got to his car, he opened the door and helped her in. “You’re not going home.”

She looked at him in surprise. “I’m not? Where are we going, then? To your place?”

Deacon shook his head and closed her door. He climbed into his side and revved the engine. He had bigger, better plans than just hiding her away at his wood-and-stone sanctuary. “I guess you could look at it that way.”

He pulled out of the parking lot and picked up his phone. He dialed his private jet service and made all the necessary arrangements while Cecelia sat looking confused and beat down in the seat beside him.

Finally, he hung up and put the phone down. “It’s all handled.”

Cecelia turned in her seat to look at him. “You said we were going to your place, but that’s back the other way. Then you have some vague conversation about going home for a few days. That doesn’t make any sense. Where are we going, Deacon?”

He smiled, hoping this little mystery was enough to distract her from the miserable night. “Well, first we’re stopping at your place so you can pack a bag and grab your passport.”

He turned in time to see her silvery, gray eyes widen. “My passport? Why on earth...?”

Deacon grinned. This was a turn of events he hadn’t expected, but it was the perfect escape. She needed to get away, he wanted to show her his crown jewel...it all worked out. By the time they returned to Royal, perhaps some new gossip from Maverick would crop up and make everyone forget about Cecelia’s birth mother.

“Yes, and once you’re packed, we’re going to the airport where a private jet is waiting to take the two of us to one of my other properties, the Hotel de Rêve.”

Cecelia sat in shock beside him. It took a few moments before she could respond. “Deacon, your other hotel is in France.”

He pulled into her driveway and put the Corvette into Park. “Yes. Hence the need for your passport. Pack for the French Riviera in the spring.”

She shook her head, making her blond waves dance around her shoulders. Cecelia had really looked lovely tonight, in a beautiful and clingy gray lace dress that brought out the gray in her eyes, but he’d barely had time to appreciate it between the mingling and the drama.

“No, Deacon, this is crazy talk. I can’t go to France tonight even if I wanted to. The Bellamy opens in two weeks. I have so much to do—”

“Your staff has things to do,” he interrupted, “and they know what those things are. You’re not carrying furniture and wiring lamps into the wall. You’re the designer, and most of your work is handled. Shane will oversee everything else, I promise. You and I are getting out of this town for a few days to let this whole mess blow over. End of discussion.”

The way Cecelia looked at him, he could tell it wasn’t the end of the discussion yet. “Couldn’t we just go to Houston or something to get away? Maybe New Orleans? No one would know where we were. We don’t have to go all the way to France, do we?”

Deacon disagreed. He turned off the car and got out, opening her door. “Yes, we do.”

“Why?” she persisted as she stood to look at him.

“Because I don’t own a hotel in New Orleans. Now get inside and pack that bag. The plane leaves for Cannes in an hour.”