Fast Track (Buchanan-Renard #12)

She felt like a princess in a fairy tale. Too bad Aiden wasn’t acting like Prince Charming. He had knocked on her door several times and reminded her they were going to be late if she didn’t hurry up. From the frown he gave her when she finally joined him in the living room, she concluded he was more of an ogre than a prince. He obviously was irritated at her for making him wait, and his only comment when he saw her was negative.

“That top doesn’t cover much.”

“Thank you,” she said sweetly. “You look nice, too.” She smiled as she gave the jab.

It was an understatement. Aiden in a tuxedo was perfection . . . even with a frown on his face.

“You’re beautiful, Cordelia. That color suits you,” he said, seeming a bit contrite.

“I should look beautiful. It took a team of women to make this,” she said, putting her arms out as she did a slow turn.

“A team, huh?”

“I’m serious.”

He laughed. “I know. Are you ready?”

As he was helping her with her cape, he bent down close to her ear and whispered, “I like your perfume.”

His warm breath on her neck made her shiver. She wanted to lean into him but took a step forward instead. “Shall we go?” she asked.

He pushed the elevator button. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

“Yes. I’ve given it a lot of thought. I still don’t want to talk to her, but I have a letter for her. I’ll ask a waiter to give it to her.”

“You wrote a letter?” He waited for her to answer. She was biting her lip and staring down at the bag clutched in her hands as though still weighing her decision. She didn’t answer his question.

“I want to see the look in her eyes when I give her the shock of her life. If that makes me petty, so be it.”

Cavanaugh was waiting for them. He did a double take when he saw Cordie, but Aiden’s frown stopped him from making a comment.

The Gallery Ball was being held at the Hoffman-Sitz Center, which was located just a few miles south of the hotel. Town cars and limos lined the drive to the front doors in a slow procession. Cordie’s stomach was in knots. She was too nervous to talk, and Aiden must have noticed her unease, because he took hold of her hand.

“I can feel you trembling.”

“I’m a bit anxious,” she admitted. “I’m afraid I might do something to humiliate you.”

He was astounded by her worry. He looked into her eyes and smiled. “Nothing you could do would ever humiliate me.”

Wanna bet? she thought. It was a terribly kind thing for him to say to her, but also totally untrue. “So if I lose it completely and go for Simone’s throat, you won’t be bothered?”

“Not at all,” he said with a straight face. “Do you plan to go for her throat?”

The laughter in his voice made her smile. “I might.”

They came to a stop in front of the steps leading up to the doors. A valet came forward, an open umbrella at the ready.

“I’ll be around the corner waiting for your call to collect you,” Cavanaugh said.

It was beginning to drizzle, so Cordie pulled the hood of the cape over her head. She took Aiden’s arm and went up the steps, lifting the hem of her gown as she moved along.

Aiden wanted to find a spot where Cordelia could watch the crowd. He suspected every eye would be on her as soon as she removed her cape, and he was right. He even heard several gasps. In case they needed to make a hasty exit, he didn’t check her cape. He draped it over his arm, took hold of her hand, and led her into the gathering.

The main ballroom was like a huge and beautiful inverted fishbowl, circular with a leaded-glass dome overhead. Guests entered on the first level, which wrapped around the room, and a ring of steps led down to a round dance floor. Huge pillars soared to the ceiling, and between these were small round tables that sat no more than four people, perfect spots for the guests to observe the orchestra stage at the far end of the room and the dancers below. The colors were muted, which made the colorful gowns the women wore all the more vibrant.

They had walked halfway around the circle before Aiden stopped. From where they stood, they could easily see the entrance and all of the dance floor. He draped her cape over one of the chairs and turned to the entrance, satisfied that the pillar next to them would conceal Cordelia from the crowd but still allow a wide view.

“It’s chilly in here,” she remarked.

It wasn’t, but he decided to agree. He put his arm around her and drew her closer. “Better?”

“Yes,” she answered, grateful for his warmth and his reassuring hug.

Aiden knew quite a few of the guests, and as the ballroom began to fill, several couples stopped to say hello. While Aiden was politely shaking hands, Cordie noticed a very good-looking man making his way toward them. He was in his thirties, with brown hair streaked blond by the sun and a smile that would make most women weak in the knees. His hair covered his collar, longer than what was considered fashionable, and she made the deduction that he was a nonconformist. She couldn’t stop staring at him. He looked almost as good as Aiden in his tuxedo. He was every bit as tall, though not as lean. His clear green eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief.

Aiden had been talking to a young man who was trying very hard to sell his company’s services to the Hamilton Hotels, but out of the corner of his eye Aiden was watching the approaching man. He knew who he was. He dismissed the enthusiastic young man by saying, “I’m not in the habit of discussing business at these affairs. If you’ll call my office and make an appointment, we’ll talk.” He didn’t take his eyes off the man coming their way.

The man stopped just a foot away from Cordie, and his smile widened. She couldn’t help but notice the adorable dimple in his cheek.

“Cordie.”

“Yes?”

“I’m Liam Scott.”

He took her hand, pulling her to him. Aiden still had his arm around her shoulders and wasn’t letting go. A tug-of-war ensued until Cordie stopped it by extracting her hand from Liam’s and shrugging Aiden’s arm away. Liam’s greeting was not over. He bent down and kissed her on both cheeks. He finally turned to Aiden and shook his hand.

“Aiden,” he said briskly.

“Liam,” Aiden responded curtly.

Aiden didn’t have to be reminded of Alec’s warning that Liam was a womanizer. The way the man was looking at Cordelia was all the evidence he needed, and Aiden didn’t like it one bit. He was downright rude when he asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he said, keeping his gaze locked on Cordelia. “I’m a patron of the arts.”

Cordie didn’t know what Aiden’s problem was. There was absolutely no reason to be so antagonistic. “Then you attend these Gallery Balls each year?” she asked.

“No, this is my first.” He added as he tugged on his collar, “And hopefully my last.”

Aiden wasn’t amused. “Again, why are you here?” he asked, and before Liam could answer, Aiden guessed, “Alec sent you, didn’t he?”

Liam nodded. “He wanted me to meet Cordie.”

“And you chose the Gallery Ball to introduce yourself?”

Liam shrugged. “From what Alec told me about Cordie, I was curious to meet her as soon as I could.”

“What did he tell you about her?” Aiden folded his arms across his chest so he wouldn’t give in to the urge to shove Liam down the steps. He had taken an instant dislike to him and wasn’t in the mood to play games.

“He said she was drop-dead gorgeous.” Turning to Cordie, he said, “He was right.”

She could feel herself blushing and wanted to turn the discussion away from herself. “Alec mentioned you used to work for Interpol?”

Liam gave her a quizzical look and then began to laugh. “He said that, did he?”

“You didn’t work for Interpol?” she asked, confused.

Evidently he thought her question hilarious, because his laughter grew louder until she could almost see tears in his eyes. “Alec does have a sense of humor. I didn’t work for them. I was wanted by Interpol. It was all a misunderstanding,” he said offhandedly. “A painting was there, and then it wasn’t, but then it was again. See? Just a misunderstanding.”

Cordie couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but she wasn’t given the chance to pursue the subject because Liam grew serious when he turned the conversation to another matter.

“Now it’s my turn to ask questions,” he said. “What are you going to do when Simone and Craig Rayburn arrive? I’ve already checked. You don’t have a gun, so I know you aren’t going to shoot them. What’s the plan?”

Aiden answered for her. “Cordelia wants to give Simone the shock of her life, but she doesn’t want to talk to her.”

“Then how is she going to shock her?” He turned to Cordie. “Did you bring a Taser? That would shock the hell out of her.”

“No, I—” Cordie began.

“Because if you didn’t,” he continued, “I’ve got one in the car you can borrow.” He looked around at the gathering crowd. “Are you hiding behind this pillar?”

“No, of course not,” she said, knowing full well it was a lie. “I’m waiting for the Rayburns to arrive.”

He grinned. “So you can shock them.”

Liam was having a bit too much fun for her liking. Before she could tell him so, he changed the subject again by asking her how she liked Sydney and then launching into a litany of the attractions she should see. As he spoke, he took her hand and pulled out a chair at the table for her. He sat down next to her and leaned in, focusing on her as though she were the only person in the room. She could tell that Aiden was trying his best to remain composed and polite, but he was not happy about Liam’s intrusion. He looked as though he was about to say something when a man came up and greeted him. From that point on he was distracted by a steady stream of men and women who recognized him. Each man wanted to talk about various projects he just knew Aiden would want to invest in, and each woman simply wanted Aiden. Cordie couldn’t blame the women. Aiden was what she’d heard one of them call a real catch, and from the way they were eyeing Liam, he was just as attractive to females on the prowl. Cordie wasn’t immune to Liam’s good looks and charm, but in her estimation he paled in comparison to Aiden. She thought that was a pity. She desperately wanted to be attracted to another man.

A waiter appeared with glasses of champagne on a silver tray. Cordie was so nervous she had to force herself not to guzzle the drink. There was a short welcoming speech by the president of something or other—she wasn’t paying attention—and then the orchestra began to play.

Aiden extricated himself from his growing entourage and walked over to Liam. “I’d like a word with you, Scott,” he said, his tone downright belligerent.

Liam looked up. “Sure, go ahead.”

“I don’t believe you’ve answered my question yet. Why are you here?”

Liam pushed the chair back and stood. “Alec thought there might be trouble, and I owe him a favor, so here I am. He’s worried about Cordie.”

“I can take care of Cordelia.” Aiden’s voice radiated anger.

Liam wasn’t fazed by the heated response. “And I can take care of Rayburn and his sons . . . if there’s trouble.”

Cordie rolled her eyes. She wasn’t impressed by the testosterone throwdown. She stood between the two men and sweetly said, “How about I take care of myself?”

“Heads up,” Liam said, looking over Cordie’s shoulder.

Cordie and Aiden turned toward the entrance.

“The Rayburns are here,” Aiden said.

TWELVE

Simone and Craig Rayburn seemed to be the in couple.

They stopped just inside the entrance, apparently oblivious to the fact that they were clogging the pathway for other guests behind them as they greeted friends and business associates. Craig removed Simone’s wrap and handed it to a hovering coat-check lady, then took Simone’s elbow and guided her through the crowd. They slowly made their way to the opposite side of the ballroom, pausing again and again to chat with people vying for their attention. Cordie couldn’t get a good look at Simone because other guests obstructed her view. She saw Craig clearly, though, and the bulldog comparison was even more accurate than she’d imagined. His jutting lower jaw was rather impressive, and his bottom teeth showed when he spoke. He wasn’t an attractive man by anyone’s standards, but from the way people were reacting to him, he obviously had achieved a certain level of stature among the wealthy elite. Shaking hands and kissing cheeks, he worked the room with great finesse. Each person he greeted seemed happy, even thrilled, at his attention, and there was no doubt he relished all the adulation. His smile seemed genuine enough, but there was a hint of arrogance behind it.

The couple reached their reserved table and took their seats. After a few minutes, their friends gradually drifted away to their own tables, and Cordie saw Simone clearly for the first time. She wore a shimmering silver strapless gown. In person, Cordie didn’t think they looked all that much alike. Simone’s hair was just as dark as hers and she seemed to be the same height, but their body shapes were different. Simone was extremely thin. She didn’t have any curves or an ounce of fat, though judging by her skinny sculpted arms, she worked out daily. Simone turned toward the dance floor. Cordie couldn’t see the color of her eyes, though she guessed they were blue. In the photo Alec had shown her, Cordie saw the resemblance, but now she was having trouble finding the similarities. Some would consider Simone a beautiful woman, but compared to the picture, the angles of her face were sharper and more defined. She was in her forties now, so the lines were probably because of age and stress. No, that wasn’t true. Simone wasn’t affected by stress—she caused it. Others might think they looked alike, but Cordie didn’t want there to be any resemblance at all.

Aiden put a supportive arm around her shoulders. He leaned down and whispered, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t want to look like her,” Cordie said.

“I know.”

Cordie couldn’t take her eyes off the couple. They were having a fine old time. Craig said something Simone thought was quite funny. She put her hand on his chest, laughed, and shook her head.

Alec had filled Liam in on Cordie’s situation, and Liam hadn’t really had an opinion until this moment, but watching Simone laughing and carrying on with her husband and her friends, as though she was a queen holding court, he felt a jolt of anger for Cordie. Simone had accomplished the impossible. She had successfully rewritten history.