Fade To Gray (Triad Series Book 1) Read online

  "Of course I don’t. Not for a minute. I just hate putting you into this kind of position. I mean, this isn’t exactly the kind of thing that will play well on the eleven o’clock news. And you’re running for city council."

  "But it isn’t public knowledge. Gideon and his merry band of whatever they are have seen to that, haven’t they? If I should be angry at anyone, it’s them."

  "He was just helping me."

  "By circumventing all proper channels. I’d like to believe that if you’d come forward justice would eventually be served."

  Emily stabbed another pin in her less-than-perfect chignon and spun around on the stool to face her friend. Bailey shifted to sit protectively at her feet. "Maybe. Eventually. But before that you know as well as I do that I would have been crucified in the media. And think what that would have done to my father."

  "It’s always about the almighty Blake Masterson, isn’t it? What he needs. What he wants. Has it ever occurred to you that the father is supposed to protect the daughter, not the other way around?"

  "That’s not fair. I know you and Daddy have had a falling out. But you know that he cares about me more than anything."

  "Which explains why he continuously threw you at a man like Tom Irwin."

  Emily shuddered. "He can’t have known what Tom was really like. If he had, he’d never have thought we’d make a good couple."

  "I know you don’t want to hear this," Jules said, waving her hand through the air, her favorite bracelet catching the light, the intricate pattern of diamonds glittering. "But if it suited his purposes, I think he’d have turned a blind eye. Even to Irwin’s…baser side." It was Jules’ turn to shiver.

  "What do you know about that?"

  For a moment she paused, as if on the verge of confessing something, but then she shrugged. "Only what the gossips are saying. You’ve heard it yourself. You may not have said it out loud, but I know that’s one of the reasons you were so hesitant to get involved with him."

  "I never liked the way he looked at me. As if I were a thing to possess."

  "But now he’s dead and, quite honestly, he probably got what he deserved."

  Emily sucked in a breath, images of Irwin’s ravaged body assailing her mind. "You weren’t there. You didn’t see his body. See the wounds. The blood." She closed her eyes, trying to push the memory away. "Nobody deserves that, Jules. Nobody."

  "Oh, God, Em, I’m sorry." Jules jumped off the bed and ran to her side. "I wasn’t trying to bring it all up again. Blame it on my prosecutor’s brain. I certainly didn’t mean to hurt you. In fact, just the opposite. I was trying to let you know that even if all of this becomes public, I’d stand by you. My career be damned."

  Emily hugged her friend, then pulled away and walked over to pick up the dress. "That’s just the point, Jules. I don’t want you to have to stand by me. I want you to be elected. You’ve worked so hard for everything you’ve achieved. I don’t want to be the one who ruins everything for you."

  "I won’t let that happen."

  Emily pulled on the strapless gown and turned her back so that Jules could help with the zipper. "Then promise me you’ll distance yourself if this becomes public. And never let anyone know that I told you the truth."

  Jules’ fingers were cold against her skin as she slid the zipper up. "I promise. If everything goes south, I’ll cover my ass. Are you happy?"

  Emily smoothed her dress and turned to check her reflection in the mirror. "I love you, Jules. And I don’t want you to be dragged into this."

  "I won’t be. Anyway, this isn’t about me. It’s about you. You need to be sure you’re protected. Do you want me to loan you a gun?" Jules was a card-carrying member of the NRA. Usually armed to the teeth, she could probably fight her way out of any situation. She was one hell of a shot.

  Emily shivered and shook her head. "You know how I feel about firearms."

  "I do. But dangerous times call for extreme measures."

  "Thank you," she said, "but no. I’ll be fine."

  "Of course you will." Behind her, Jules’ reflection smiled, but somehow Emily didn’t feel comforted. "After all, you’ve got knights riding in from all directions. Your father. Your uncle. And now Gideon Sloan. Just be careful, Em. Sometimes knights turn into dragons."

  *****

  "EVERYTHING’S LOOKING good," Sylvie Jensen said, pushing her thick auburn hair behind her shoulder. Dressed in a shimmering bronze gown, Sylvie looked stunning, as usual. Emily smiled as her friend adjusted the placard on one of the auction items.

  "I think we have everything in hand."

  "At least where the auction is concerned," Sylvie said, her gaze shooting across the room to where Gideon and Ryder stood watching. "You want to explain to me why Gideon Sloan is following you around like a shadow?"

  "He’s a guest, Sylvie. You know as well as I do that he’s moved up in the world. So it’s not surprising to find him at an event like Gabrielle’s."

  "No, maybe not. But that doesn’t discount the fact that he just saved your life."

  "That might be overstating it a tad." Okay, not even a little bit, but she’d hedged the story quite a bit when she’d told Sylvie what happened. "He rescued me from a gas leak."

  "That’s pretty much what I said." Her business partner frowned. "But that doesn’t explain his following your every move."

  Emily glanced at Gideon and then forced herself to look away. It wouldn’t do to rouse any more suspicion. "Maybe he’s got it in his head that I need protecting."

  "We’re talking about the same Gideon Sloan who broke your heart when he betrayed your father? You’re telling me suddenly he shows up on your doorstep just at the moment you stand in need of being rescued? And then decides to become your knight errant? Doesn’t exactly fit his profile."

  Emily swallowed, hating the fact that she was lying to her friend. But she’d already risked too much in telling her family and Jules. Besides, knowing the truth would only put Sylvie in danger.

  "We wound up on the same political committee. You know how small this town is. And I could hardly refuse to serve with Gideon. I mean, that would simply stir it all up again. Anyway, the rescue wasn’t anything earth shattering. He was simply dropping by with some paperwork and smelled gas. The honest truth is that I’m lucky he was there."

  "Oh God, Em, I’m sorry. I’m hounding you about Gideon when I should be asking if you’re all right." Sylvie reached for her hand, her expression of concern sending Emily’s guilt ratcheting higher.

  "I’m fine. Honestly. It’s nothing to worry about."

  Sylvie’s perfectly shaped eyebrows drew together. "I wish I believed you were telling me everything. But I don’t." She shot another look in Gideon’s direction. "Unfortunately now isn’t the time to badger you. Gabrielle is motioning me her way. I’m supposed to announce the auction before the dancing begins."

  "Go on. I’ll be here when you get back."

  Sylvie hesitated, a frown marring her expression. "You know you can trust me with anything, right? No matter what’s truly going on?"

  "There’s nothing more to tell, I swear. Now go on. Make the announcement."

  Sylvie took a step and then stopped again. "I can cancel my trip to Paris. I’m sure we can bid for the Renoir online."

  "Don’t be silly. I’m going to be fine. I told you, Gideon was just in the right place at the right time. His being here tonight is purely coincidental."

  Sylvie sighed. "You know I only want what’s best for you."

  "I do know that. And I swear there’s no need for you to worry. No matter what’s happened, Gideon is part of my past. And I promise that’s where he’s going to remain."

  Sylvie shrugged, her smile holding a whisper of warning. "Famous last words and all that."

  *****

  "CONSTANT SURVEILLANCE isn’t literal, you know? You can actually take your eyes off her for a minute or two without breaking protocol." There was a hint of laughter in Ryder’s voice that was meant to commi
serate but only served to further irritate Gideon.

  Watching Emily move through the glittering crowd with the ease of belonging only served to remind Gideon of how different they were. Emily Masterson was the daughter of a billionaire. He was the son of a…well, suffice it to say his mother hadn’t been in the top eighty percent of wage earners, let alone the top one percent. And his father—hell, in point of fact, he’d never met the man. Didn’t even know the son of a bitch’s name.

  His gaze followed Emily as she stopped to talk to the mayor. She looked stunning in blue, the gown glittering as it hugged her breasts, tapered to her waist and then flared in wispy waves to the floor. Her golden hair was tucked into a knot at the back of her head, her long slender throat both sensual and regal. His mouth watered and he clenched a fist, his mind recalling what it felt like to touch her—to taste her.

  "Seriously, dude, you’ve got to stop staring," Ryder said. "People are beginning to notice."

  Gideon wrenched his gaze away, chagrin mixing with the rising heat of desire. God, he was a fool. "I just want to be sure she’s safe."

  "We all do. Which is why our people have the situation well in hand. Not to mention the security for the event itself. Pretty much anyone who is anyone in Manhattan society is here tonight. Gabrielle Delacort will have made sure that there’s ample protection for her guests."

  "I know you’re right. I just can’t help feeling that this isn’t over yet. That there’s more to come."

  "If we’re right and someone is worried about what Emily knows, then I think that’s a given. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t keep whatever it is from happening. Or worst case, control it when it does."

  "I know. It’s just that…" He trailed off, hating himself for his weakness.

  "You care about her. I understand. But you can’t let that get in the way of doing the job. You’re the one who taught me that. And so now I’ll return the favor."

  "Fine. Consider it returned." But his gaze moved back to Emily.

  She’d stopped to talk to an older woman in a hideous dark purple satin number that put Gideon in mind of an overgrown eggplant.

  "Doris Lethenger." Ryder nodded toward the woman. "More money than taste. Although her pedigree is so flawless she probably bleeds blue."

  "Her son was a client, right?" Gideon frowned, trying to remember. "Got caught up in a rape scandal?"

  "Yeah. Little prick didn’t do it, but he was bound and determined to stand with his friends."

  "Kids are stupid at that age."

  "Especially when Daddy’s got enough money to buy you out of whatever trouble you fall into. We didn’t have that luxury."

  "Didn’t mean we didn’t do some stupid things." Gideon grinned over at his friend. "I’d like to say we’ve gotten wiser with age, but…" He shrugged.

  "You can dress us up, but we’ll still always be the boys from wrong side of town?" Ryder’s crooked grin was at odds with the perfect cut of his Armani tux.

  The quartet in the corner struck up an old standard.

  "One of Millie’s favorites," Ryder observed. Millie Westfeldt was Ryder’s great aunt. A mixed-media artist, she was a true character. A woman larger than life with a heart of pure gold. She’d not only raised Ryder, she’d taken on his two best friends, healing their wounds more times than any of them could count. "You should ask her to dance."

  "Millie?" Gideon said, purposely misconstruing Ryder’s words.

  "No, Doris Lethenger." Ryder rolled his eyes. "Obviously I meant Emily. Hell, you’re dressed for the part. Might as well put the monkey suit to good use. Besides, it beats staring at her from the sidelines."

  "I thought you didn’t approve of her."

  "I don’t. But that’s never stopped you before. Look, what’s between the two of you is just that—between you and her. What I think doesn’t signify. Besides, it’s just a damn dance. And it beats the shit out of standing here mooning over her like a love-sick puppy."

  *****

  EMILY COULD FEEL Gideon watching her. He’d been doing it all night. No matter where she stood or who she was talking to, she could feel his gaze like warm fingers stroking up her back, leaving a trail of heat that coiled somewhere deep inside. She shouldn’t be so aware of him. As if they were linked by some sort of cosmic chain. Sylvie had been right; Gideon had torpedoed any chance they’d had at happiness. And she’d washed her hands of him years ago. Hadn’t she?

  Forcing her mind to the present and the people in her life who hadn’t betrayed her, she smiled at Martha Beddington. The woman was a huge supporter of the gallery. Certainly not someone to ignore while fantasizing about a man who no longer had relevance in her life.

  "Did you hear about the Gouthière candelabras acquired by the Frick?"

  "I’m sorry?" Emily frowned, trying to catch up to the conversation.

  "Pierre Gouthière. You know, the chaser and gilder. His work is quite renowned. Getting them was quite a coup."

  "Right. Of course." She struggled to focus, still feeling the warmth of his attention. "Gouthière. I’m told they’re absolutely exquisite. 1782, I think."

  Mrs. Beddington smiled, her eyes twinkling. "I thought you’d be aware. If you’d like, I can arrange for you to have a private showing."

  "That would be amazing." Emily watched in confusion as Mrs. Beddington’s smile widened, her gaze moving to something just beyond Emily’s shoulder.

  "Well, then, that’s settled. Now for introductions."

  Emily startled as something warm and heavy settled against her waist and she shivered with anticipation, knowing instantly who was touching her.

  Mrs. Beddington’s carefully penciled eyebrows rose in encouragement.

  "Oh yes," Emily said, stepping slightly to the side, tipping her head up to smile at Gideon. Across the room she could see Uncle Vincent frowning. "Martha Beddington, may I present Gideon Sloan? You may have heard of his company, Triad."

  "As a matter of fact I have." Mrs. Beddington’s eyes grew heavy-lidded as she allowed her gaze to travel from Gideon’s face to his well-formed shoulders and torso. The woman might be old, but she wasn’t dead. "Doris Lethenger speaks very highly of you. I gather you helped her reprobate of a son out of a rather serious mess."

  Gideon’s jaw tightened slightly, and his fingers pressed into her hip. "It’s lovely to meet you." He dipped his head slightly, offering a smile, and Mrs. Beddington actually blushed. Emily bit her lip to keep from laughing. "And now if you’ll excuse us," Gideon said. "Emily promised me a dance."

  "Oh, by all means, please, go." Mrs. Beddington made a shooing motion with her hands, her diamond rings glittering in the light. "I love that song. It was one of my late husband’s favorites."

  Emily tilted her head, the soft refrain from "Our Love is Here to Stay" drifting across the room. "That’s an ironic song for us to dance to, don’t you think?" she couldn’t help asking as Gideon escorted her onto the dance floor.

  "Ah," he said with a crooked grin, pulling her close as they began to move with the music, "but it’s Mrs. Beddington’s favorite."

  "Her husband’s actually."

  "Her dead husband. And right now she’s watching us—and remembering him. Let’s not spoil it for her."

  Emily nodded, certain that she wouldn’t have had the strength to walk away anyhow. The feel of his arms around her was just too wonderful. Too right. It had been a hellish few days and suddenly she couldn’t think of anyplace she’d rather be than here, in his arms.

  It didn’t make any sense at all. And judging from the now thundering scowl on Uncle Vincent’s face and the clearly unsettled look on Ryder’s, it wasn’t pleasing anyone besides maybe Mrs. Beddington either. Still, she closed her eyes and leaned into him, relishing the feel of his breath against her hair and the crisp, clean smell of his aftershave.

  His palm was warm against the curve of her back, the fingers of his other hand entwined with hers. He danced flawlessly with the same athletic grace with which he did everything. Th
ey moved almost as one, her heart beating against his, the music seeming to surround them, shelter them, a soft, sensual blanket of sound.

  "You look lovely tonight," he whispered, his voice deep, almost gruff. "The most alluring woman in the room."

  He pulled her closer as they turned, the other couples seeming to fade away.

  It brought to mind another night when everything had seemed possible. But that was a lifetime ago. And she’d do well to remember it.

  As if to underscore the thought, they moved past Uncle Vincent, his eyes narrowed in concern. If her father knew that she was dancing with Gideon…

  Suddenly the magic that had surrounded them was gone. The intimacy that had seemed so natural just a moment before feeling false—forced. People were watching them. Speculation on their faces. Their past hadn’t been a secret. And these people, more than most, lived on others’ scandal, others’ pain.

  After everything that had happened she couldn’t risk the spotlight. Not here. Not like this. Not with Gideon.

  "I…I can’t do this," she stuttered, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. A part of her wanted him to pull her closer—to ease her fears—to make her feel safe. But another part of her wanted to run. To hide away someplace where no one could hurt her. Least of all this man with his knowing smile and concerned scrutiny.

  "Emily, sweetheart, it’s okay."

  The endearment bit into her. Raising specters of memories that she’d pushed far away. She’d loved him so very, very much. And with one single act, he’d almost destroyed her. She couldn’t do this again.

  "I need air." She pushed back, his hand still curving around her waist. "I have to go."

  Tears welled, hot and heavy, as she jerked free, moving across the floor, casting tight smiles at the people she passed.

  Ahead, the open doors of the terrace beckoned and with shaking hands and trembling breath she moved out into the cool Manhattan night, the soft breeze stirring the tendrils of her hair. In the distance she could hear the sounds of traffic, but below her the sidewalks were empty, the narrow street kissed with light from the surrounding buildings.