All of your business, p.9
All of Your Business, page 9
“Nobody told me there was a dress code,” she blurted.
“Monte didn’t mention it?”
“Monte didn’t invite me. Your mother did.”
That seemed to surprise him. “And she didn’t tell you to wear red?”
Didi shook her head. “She sent me to her stylist, and he had me try on half a dozen dresses. All of them were ivory.”
“Perhaps something got lost in translation. Fabrice is French, after all. Still, you’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Then why does everyone keep staring?”
“Because you look stunning.” As soon as he said it, Ben mashed his lips together.
Didi smiled at the compliment – and his reaction. “Tell me about this gala. Why the British Heart Foundation?”
“My father died of heart disease,” Ben shared. “One year after his passing, my mother decided to host an intimate dinner in his honor. Initially, it was a small affair, but it’s grown over the years. Eventually, we named it and began selling tickets. All of the takings go to the BHF.”
“Why is it called Hearts & Tickers? No offense, but that’s not the sexiest title.”
Ben agreed. “It was my brother’s suggestion. Have you heard of a tarts and vicars party? It’s a fancy-dress theme. Men show in costume as priests and women as prostitutes.”
“So, Hearts & Tickers is a spinoff of that,” Didi concluded. “Hearts for heart disease prevention. And tickers because...?”
“My father had a collection of antique watches. Each year, Mother sells one in a silent auction. This year’s offering is on display next to the bar if you would like to place a bid.”
“Your mom doesn’t mind giving away your dad’s watches? Wouldn’t they be yours someday? Or your brother’s?”
“Kip and I don’t see it like that,” Ben explained. “What if one bit of research, funded partly by our efforts, preserves the life of another lad’s father? Even if it gives one family one extra year together, it’s worth a few Richmond heirlooms. We’d trade them all for another year with our father. Even raffle off the Renoir.”
“You have a Renoir? For real?”
“For real,” Ben repeated. “Mother acquired it last year. She’s very proud. Perhaps tomorrow I can show you the art gallery.”
“You have an art gallery?”
“It’s on the thirty-sixth floor.” When Didi snickered, Ben winced. He did sound pretentious. “Should I not have mentioned it? I’m not bragging, I promise. We also sponsor a resident artist who works and lives in a studio flat. It’s not entirely a vanity project. More an investment opportunity.”
“Hey, it’s your life.” To reassure him, Didi squeezed his hand. “But it is a little hard for me to comprehend. My mom’s house in San Antonio still doesn’t have central air conditioning. Mama held three jobs while we were growing up just to put food on the table. My oldest brother started working at a grocery store when he was fourteen. Because of the hours, he barely made it through high school. If Josue hadn’t done that, Mama wouldn’t have been able to pay the rent.”
“But she’s all right now?” Ben asked.
“Oh, yeah. I bought the house for her a few years back. I made the owner an offer she couldn’t refuse.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “That’s rather intimidating.”
“Nothing unethical, I promise. Con dinero baila el perro.”
“What does that mean?”
“With money, even the dog dances.”
Ben flinched like she had pinched him. “I hope that’s not why you’re dancing with me. Because of money.”
It was Didi’s turn to flinch. Who would think such a thing, much less say it out loud to his dance partner? But Ben had a net worth of millions. How could he tell if someone liked him for real?
“I’m dancing with you because I want to,” she assured him. “And I liked you before I knew who you were, other than the stuffy guy hogging two seats on the plane.”
“Stuffy?” When Ben’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket, he ignored it.
Catching the humor in his voice, Didi craned her neck to study his gaze. Ben still didn’t smile, but the soulfulness in his eyes took a backseat to something more eager. Didi stared back as they glided along. She felt weightless with exhilaration.
Ben leaned in like he wanted to kiss her.
Didi didn’t look away or lower her chin. Cielos. What were they doing?
If she and Ben did kiss, in plain view no less, it would be a total game-changer – one the game might not tolerate. Ben Richmond was playing for the opposite team until Mr. Akamba made his decision.
In spite of that fact, Didi imagined how it might feel to kiss Ben. As the temptation crested, she didn’t tilt forward. She also didn’t tilt back. Maybe they needed another safe word, one for kissing instead of conversation.
But did she really want to play it that safe?
Chapter Ten
With his lips hovering above Didi’s cheek, Ben wondered what on earth he was doing. He held Didi too close. He gazed at her for too long. Wasn’t he the sensible Richmond?
Sensible but not made of stone. When Didi had entered the ballroom, she rendered him dumbstruck for a moment. Not that any guests had minded in the slightest. Ben’s speeches were designed to be endured, not enjoyed. He only gave them whenever Kip couldn’t.
But Didi’s appearance undid him in a way that Ben couldn’t explain. He knew she was naturally pretty. He had noticed that fact on the plane. But this evening, she mesmerized him. He’d never seen anyone so lovely.
And he was the lucky one dancing with her. How did he get so fortunate?
Wrong color or not, Didi looked angelic in her lustrous ivory gown. Ringlets flowed like a waterfall from the crown of her head, and Ben itched to test their softness with his fingers. Within her dark curls, crystal flowers caught and tossed the ambient light.
How could he not want to kiss her?
“May I cut in?”
If a man had posed the question, Ben would have ignored it. Or refused. But a woman’s voice – one unnervingly familiar – dragged him from his mental dithering.
She wore a red dress that Ben recognized, although he couldn’t recall the context. She was still slender and leggy, with porcelain skin and auburn curls bobbing against her bare shoulders. If she arrived with a date, he was absent at that moment. Likely the poor man was waiting in vain for a tawdry rendezvous on the terrace.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” she urged. “I’m afraid we’ve not had the pleasure.”
Wishing he could refuse her, Ben relented. He was one of the hosts, and an unwelcome guest was still a guest per the rules of etiquette. He made sure to convey his irritation in his tone.
“Didi Velasquez, meet Catrella Delcombe.”
He let go of Didi but kept himself anchored between the two women. He didn’t bother with titles or explanations. Angels and demons never mingled.
“Pleased to meet you.” Didi smiled as if she meant it. “I didn’t realize that’s how it worked over here.”
“It isn’t,” Ben snipped. “Women don’t cut in.”
Catrella’s mouth contorted into a crimson pout. “That’s rather sexist.”
Ben rolled his eyes at the comment. Catrella Delcombe was the least liberated woman he knew, even if she fancied herself quite progressive. Instead of using her intelligence and ingenuity to establish her own professional domain, she used her beauty and intuition to prey upon men who had already built theirs. Perhaps it was a form of female empowerment to control men through urges they couldn’t control.
But Cat relied upon the mercy of their affections. How was that liberating?
If Didi was bothered by Cat’s interruption, she hid it well. “I’ll go have a look at what’s up for auction. I’ll be back later to cut in.”
Ben watched her glide away. Brilliant woman.
Cat grabbed his hand. “Shall we dance?”
With a grunt, he acquiesced. He couldn’t very well cause a scene. He had no doubt all eyes were on Catrella which meant he was also on display. Her happy place was his circle of hell. And she knew it.
How did she even get inside the tower? His mother was going to have kittens.
“Are you also intending to lead?” he asked.
“If that’s what you like,” she purred.
“Leave off, Cat. Your act doesn’t work on me. How did you wheedle a ticket to this? I know you weren’t invited, and you certainly can’t afford it.”
The dig had its intended effect. Cat’s blue eyes lost their crafty glimmer. “Sully invited me.”
Ben scoffed a laugh. “Sullivan McDrummond? You must be truly desperate. What did you do to finagle that invite?”
“Nothing you and I haven’t done.”
He cringed at the reminder. “Sully never could resist a pretty face.”
“It’s the same pretty face you couldn’t resist.”
“Give or take ten years.”
Catrella beamed as though he’d just proposed. No chance there. But Cat knew how to put on a show. She was as talented as she was clever. If she gave up the social grifting, she could run her own business empire.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Kip’s married,” Ben said. “So you can stop popping up at these things.”
“I’m not here to see Kip. I’m here to see you.”
“Wasted effort, I’m afraid.” Ben straightened his arms to keep ample space between their bodies. “Still, you might salvage the evening. I can name several men in this room who’d be happy to pay for your services. Perhaps they’d toss in a new wardrobe.”
The cutting remark made Cat stumble. A small victory, for sure.
She counterpunched by attempting to nuzzle Ben’s ear. “You have such a way with words.”
Ben turned his head to discourage her. “I find the honest ones are the most useful.”
“Speaking of honesty, did you tell Kip about us?”
It was Ben’s turn to miss a step. “Of course not. There’s nothing to tell.”
“Oh dear,” she cooed. “That’s not true, is it? And we both know how Kip feels about lies.”
“I haven’t lied to Kip. I just didn’t –”
“What do they call it? A lie of omission?”
Ben offered her a tight, humorless smile. Now they were getting somewhere. “What do you want, Cat? Be specific and brief.”
“Silly boy. I want you.”
“And realistic.”
“How’s that unrealistic?” Her honey-smooth voice oozed confidence. “We dated before. I thought we might have another go.”
“We did not date,” Ben clarified through gritted teeth. “We were never a couple.”
“I have pictures that tell a different story.”
Ben shook his head at the ploy. “You have a handful of journalist hacks in your handbag who, for some reason, still do your bidding. I will not date you, or pay you, to remain silent about a relationship that never existed. Photoshop or not, you and I both know the truth. There are no pictures, and we never dated.”
Although Ben infused his words with bravado, he felt his inner world pitch and tilt. He had no room in his life for this sort of chaos. Neither did his brother.
“What is truth?” Catrella asked. “Truth is perception. And perception is reality.”
“What a brain you’ve wasted,” Ben replied. “If you’d come to me wanting a proper job, I probably would have said yes.”
A crack appeared in Cat’s self-assured façade. “Maybe I want a proper boyfriend.”
“My brother wasn’t proper enough?”
“Kip was charming. And fun. But he wasn’t you.”
“And yet you chose him. You were engaged to him. You kept him for longer than any of the others.”
“Because he’s the only one who wasn’t keeping me.” Cat’s voice lost its affected allure. “He treated me like a person, not a prize.”
Ben couldn’t help sneering. “And then you abandoned him for fifteen minutes of fame.”
“I also nursed him back to health.”
“No, I did that.” Resentment sharpened his words. “You intervened after Kip beat his addiction – just as things had become easier and before I could warn him about you.”
Cat’s hand slid around his torso, exploring until it found his mobile. “Why not warn him now?”
“That’s all in the past.” Ben seized her fingers. “And there is no future for us.”
She maneuvered in his grip until their hands intertwined. “It must be lonely in this tower of yours.”
“I’m less lonely than I was yesterday.”
Cat’s gaze flicked past his shoulder. “Wherever do you find these Americans?”
“Perhaps you should find one of your own.”
“I’m hardly so desperate.”
“Yet you’re desperate enough to blackmail me.”
“This isn’t blackmail. It’s payback.” She kissed his cheek. “The story runs on Sunday unless I hear from you first. Ta, Ben. Catch you later.”
As Catrella sashayed away from him, Ben remained frozen in place. When the band began playing its next tune, he headed in the opposite direction, away from Cat and her schemes, and onto the terrace where the cold air shocked his skin.
He followed the covered walkway until the Thames came into view. The windows at his back belonged to the restaurant and not the ballroom. No one would be peeping while he gathered his wits.
Ben pulled his mobile from his pocket and stared at its dark screen. This fiasco was entirely his fault. If he’d been honest with his family in the beginning, then Cat might be hunting for billionaires elsewhere.
What was it Didi had said on the plane?
Desperation can make a person fearless.
Was Catrella desperate? Or was she just playing games? Hard to tell with that one.
Ben leaned against the guardrail as he reviewed his options. He might refuse Cat’s demands and weather the resultant PR storm. He might attempt to buy her silence, but she could simply keep asking for more. Or he could date her in a prolonged and public manner.
The last option made Ben shudder. He valued his privacy like Cat valued his wealth. Even if he hadn’t met Didi, he would never settle for Catrella.
Which reduced his choices to one.
He was going to have to tell Kip the truth.
No more lies of omission. A full confession was his only defense. Even though Kip was still in the States, Ben knew he couldn’t delay. Information traveled instantaneously. He didn’t want Kip to find out that way.
Ben unlocked his mobile. He had received sixteen new emails since the gala began. None outranked what he needed to do. He selected Kip’s name in the list of contacts and opened a blank message.
When are you free to talk? Important.
The moment he sent it, Ben’s phone shimmied against his palm. S-O-S. He read his mother’s text.
Where are you?
Terrace, he answered. Need some air.
How did SHE get inside?
Ben knew his mother meant Catrella. Sully McDrumond
No more invites for him
Ben smirked. How much did he donate last year? For emphasis, he added £££.
For several seconds, ellipses pulsed on the screen until his mother’s reply arrived. Point taken. I did try to warn you about HER.
I was preoccupied
I noticed. As did everyone else. How thoughtful of you to put your conflict of interest on public display. I asked you to escort DV to the gala, not romance her in front of queen and country.
He bristled at the chiding. Asking someone to dance is not romancing them.
All evidence to the contrary. DV is your opponent in an active bid. You oversee all RE acquisitions. Any fraternization at this stage of the game could jeopardize her professional reputation.
Right away, Ben caught the inequality in her logic. Her reputation but not mine?
You are less vulnerable than she is. You are not immune. All the more reason to steer clear until Akamba makes his decision.
Ben scowled at the words on his screen. Not once had his mother chastised him – not ever – for his professional behavior. Typically, it was the other way round. He kept her on the straight and narrow.
Even as a boy, he did as he was told while Kip delighted in defying their mother. Now Kip was on his honeymoon, and Ben endured the lecture. His brother would howl at the irony of it.
Just wait until Sunday. Ben’s face would be plastered alongside Catrella’s in red-tops all over the city. The story might not go viral, but any attention would be unpleasant. He had so few skeletons in his cupboard. Why did the worst of them have to turn up now?
“Ben?”
He looked up. Didi found him again, just as she promised. Not that there would be any more dancing.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
No, it most certainly was not.
Chapter Eleven
As Didi waited for Ben to acknowledge her, she could see he was upset. His mood seemed more like a simmer than a boil. The redhead had set him on edge. What was their history? Or were they not history yet?
Dios mio. Were they dating? If so, it made Didi the other woman – a role she would never accept.
“I can go back in if you’d like some privacy.” She gathered the train of her dress. When Ben didn’t protest, she got the message. She turned to leave.
“Please,” Ben said. “Stay.”
Didi peered over her shoulder. “If you want to be alone, I get it.”
She genuinely did. Two of her brothers were introverts who needed twice as much me-time as the rest of the family. They solved their problems in silence and licked their wounds in solitude.
And Simply-Ben looked wounded.
Meanwhile, the redhead was still inside, prancing around with a satisfied smile.
Didi tried for a neutral topic. “I placed a bid for your father’s watch. One hundred thousand.”
The number roused Ben from his sulk. “Dollars?”
“Pesos.”
His lips twisted with amusement. “You know that translates to roughly four thousand pounds?”
“I’m willing to double it,” she joked, “but I didn’t want to go too high too soon.”
