Set Up in SoHo (The Matchmaker Chronicles) Read online

  “Last I saw he was talking to Mark.” Clinton waved a hand in the direction of the champagne fountain. “They were looking really intense and bandying words like ‘leveraged’ and ‘synergy.’”

  “Sounds less than fascinating.”

  “Exactly,” Clinton said, his expression smug. “Anyway, there was an older man there as well. Distinguished looking.”

  “Gray suit. White hair. Impressive eyebrows?”

  “And a conspicuously understated necktie.” Clinton nodded. “Sounds like you know who he is.”

  “Walter Mathias. Ethan’s grandfather. Ethan introduced me earlier.”

  “I should have recognized him. His picture is certainly in the papers often enough.”

  “At least he only graces the financial pages. Unlike Althea, who seems to have taken up permanent residence on Page Six. Did you have to run the gauntlet outside?”

  “Kind of hard to avoid it. Fortunately, the paparazzi aren’t all that interested in the opinions of an old restaurateur.”

  “I think you’re underrepresenting yourself.”

  “Well, someone did ask me what Althea was wearing to the wedding.”

  “And I’m sure you had an educated guess.”

  “Dior,” he sighed. “But it’s not like it was a trick question. Anyone who’s anyone knows she always favors Dior.”

  “Actually, I hadn’t a clue. And she’s my aunt. I’m telling you, it’s a gift.”

  “I hardly think your not knowing something about Althea makes me a prodigy. I’m just more observant. And clearly you’re not all that interested in anything having to do with Althea.”

  “Probably true,” I admitted. “But this is a party and I’m not here to talk about my aunt. Or my feelings about her. So where’s Bethany? I haven’t seen her yet.”

  “She’s here,” he said. “Arrived the same time as I did. We started out together, but I lost her somewhere after her third cosmo.”

  “Nothing like a couple of cocktails to dull one’s pain.”

  “You said it, not me. To be honest, I’m not sure she had any business coming tonight.”

  “Sometimes it helps to just try and forget. Put the bad stuff behind you.”

  “As long as you don’t make a fool of yourself in the process.”

  “I take it there’s something more than the cosmos?”

  “Alexander Kerensky. She’s been in the corner with him for the past half hour.”

  “But he’s—”

  “Lower than slime?” Clinton finished for me. “Exactly my thoughts.”

  Alexander Kerensky was a notorious playboy. Of questionable breeding, he was known for bedding and abandoning women of a certain age, all of them with money. Bethany wasn’t his type, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t above plying his charms.

  “Is Michael here?”

  “I’ve no idea. But I’m hoping not. If there’s any chance at the two of them working things out, it isn’t going to survive Michael seeing Bethany play kissy face with Alexander.”

  “I still can’t understand why Michael was so quick to end things. It wasn’t as if she wanted to break up.”

  “I guess in his mind, not wanting to move in was the same thing.”

  “Well, making out with Alexander Kerensky isn’t going to solve anything. Maybe I should talk to her?”

  “I think talking might actually just make things worse. Why don’t you just let me keep an eye on her? I promise I’ll keep her from doing anything she’ll regret.”

  “Okay, but I’m here if you need me.”

  “You just enjoy the evening,” he said with a suggestive arch of his eyebrows.

  “Ethan, you mean.”

  “Well, if the shoe fits . .

  “You’re incorrigible,” I said, slapping him playfully on the shoulder.

  “And proud of the fact. But as much as I’d like to stay and trade insults with you, I think our Bethany needs me.” He tipped his head toward the corner, where she was only halfheartedly fending off Alexander’s carefully honed moves. “Clinton to the rescue.” He laughed, then made a beeline for Bethany.

  I watched for a moment as he effortlessly separated Bethany from Alexander’s embrace and, gesturing wildly, began some story or another as he pulled her away, leaving Alexander fuming in the corner.

  I smothered a laugh, and turned back toward the fountain. Ethan was visible now, still deep in conversation. Only the group was larger now. Mark, Walter, Vanessa’s father, and a couple of other men I didn’t recognize.

  Ethan, as if sensing my attention, looked up and smiled. My heart rate immediately ratcheted upward. The man was giving me palpitations and he was standing halfway across a very crowded ballroom. Clearly, I had it bad. With a half wave, I tilted my head toward Vanessa and Cybil chatting by the bar. He followed my gaze, nodded, and then, with another quick smile, re-turned to his conversation.

  I took two steps toward Vanessa and company and then did an about-face. I’d had enough small talk for the evening. In all honesty, I’d had enough talk, period. The best thing to do was head for the ladies’ room and a quick freshen up, then hopefully Ethan would be ready to call it a night. At least as far as the party was concerned.

  Smiling, I made my way out of the ballroom.

  The hallway outside was quiet and I stopped for a moment to catch a breath. The Pierre has always reminded me of a French palace, elegance and refinement surrounding one with a feeling of luxury and good taste. The perfect place for a tryst or an illicit affair. Except that the hotel sits on one of Manhattan’s busiest corners. Shaking my head at my flight into romantic nonsense, I started to turn the corner into the main hallway, but stopped at the sound of voices.

  Diana and her friend Kitty Wheeler.

  Just what I needed—the devil and her cohort in crime. I wasn’t about to turn tail and run (although I’ll admit the idea had its merits), but taking Diana on wasn’t the best of ideas, either. This was a public hotel and there were at least three dozen reporters camped outside. Better to just hold my head high and hopefully sail right past them without engaging.

  On the other hand, maybe Bethany needed me.

  I started to turn around, but something in the sound of their voices made me stop. Careful not to make any noise, I leaned forward, listening.

  “Oh my God,” Diana said. “You’re never going to believe what I just found out. You know how weirded out I’ve been about my cousin seeing Andi Sevalas?”

  Okay, this was the stuff of nightmares. They were actually talking about me. I pressed closer to the wall, knowing I would probably regret eavesdropping, but totally incapable of stopping myself.

  “Of course,” Kitty said. “If it hadn’t been for him being involved with her, your plan to ruin her television show would have worked like a charm.”

  “And my grandfather would have seen just how brilliant my business acumen really is. I still can’t believe he took Ethan’s side over mine. It’s not like I did anything illegal. I just suggested that DuBois might be happier if he worked with Mathias instead of doing a spot on that insipid little show.”

  “Well, at least you have Dillon.”

  “Big consolation. I mean, he’s great in bed and everything, but he’s hardly the kind of man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. Half the fun was taking him away from Andi.”

  “I still think it’s pretty wild that Andi wound up dating your cousin. I mean, that’s a pretty small world even for Manhattan.”

  A woman in a black Prada suit walked out of the dining room and I bent to fiddle with my shoe, avoiding any chance of eye contact. My head was pounding, and I knew I should go. But it was like being caught in headlights: You want to run, but you’ve somehow become glued to the spot.

  Prada lady turned the corner away from Kitty and Diana, and once she was out of sight I straightened, fighting to control my rioting emotions as I strained to hear the rest of the conversation.

  “Actually, turns out it’s not wild at all,�
�� Diana was saying. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It was all planned. A setup. Althea asked Ethan to go out with Andi. She was trying to keep her niece from looking pathetic. As if that were possible. Anyway, after my cousin rescued Andi from the garbage dump, Althea figured why not make the most of the moment. Boost Andi’s ego by making her believe Ethan was interested in her. Isn’t that priceless?”

  “So the whole thing was fabricated? And Andi has no idea?”

  “None at all.”

  “Who told you all this?”

  My stomach was churning, the resulting bile rising in my throat, while some disembodied part of my brain warned that it wasn’t the done thing to throw up in the hallway of The Pierre.

  “That’s the best part. I got it straight from the horse’s mouth. Althea was discussing it with one of her cronies, and I just happened to overhear. She was crowing about how brilliant she was and how well it was working.”

  “Maybe not,” Kitty said. “I saw Andi talking to Dillon earlier. And they looked pretty intense.”

  “Oh, please, Dillon isn’t interested in her. Probably still just trying to wheedle his way into getting that stupid dog back. I’m far more interested in my cousin’s antics.”

  “So you think Ethan’s just pretending to like her?”

  “On some level he probably believes that he cares about her. He’s always picking up strays. But basically, yes. This is just a game. And when Ethan’s tired of it, he’ll toss her aside. He’s done it before. Playing Prince Charming has its limitations. Besides, I’m certain Althea’s promised Ethan something in return for plying his favors, as it were. I’m betting it’s something for Mathias Industries. Althea has a lot of contacts and I suspect she’s privy to a lot of very interesting information. And Ethan will do anything to curry his way into Grandfather’s favor.”

  “So are you going to tell Andi?”

  “I don’t know. Eventually. But for the moment I’m quite enjoying watching her make a fool of herself.”

  There were tears dripping down my nose, and I angrily wiped them away with my hand. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The idea that Althea had asked someone to pretend to like me so I wouldn’t feel as devastated by Dillon’s betrayal—well, there just weren’t words.

  It was the ultimate humiliation.

  I couldn’t decide who I was angrier with—Althea for setting me up, or Ethan for agreeing to the charade. Just at the moment I hated them both.

  Although not as much as I despised Diana Merreck.

  “Damn it all to hell,” I whispered, still swiping at tears, praying that The Pierre’s floor would magically open up and swallow me. But of course nothing happened, except Diana and Kitty started walking in my direction.

  “Honest to God,” Diana was saying. “I can’t believe she was stupid enough to fall for any of it. She can’t even see when she’s being set up.”

  They both laughed and some basic instinct for preservation made me whip around the corner, but not before Diana saw me, her smile laced with malice.

  Thinking only of escape, I headed for the staircase leading to the ground floor and the beckoning freedom of Fifth Avenue. My mind was whirling, emotions crescendoing, anger and shame blending together. Diana was right; I’d allowed myself to be duped into believing my meeting Ethan was fated. That we were supposed to be together. And to make matters worse, I’d actually begun to think I might be falling for the man.

  Pushing past a tuxedo-clad partygoer, I tried to order my tumbling thoughts. How could Ethan and Althea have done this to me? And how had I not seen it for what it really was?

  Althea had known I was going to the park. In fact, I’d specifically mentioned Conservatory Water. Which meant that Ethan had known where to find me. And Althea had probably told him just what to say. She knew how I felt about Dillon’s betrayal. And how much I’d welcomed Ethan’s rescue. God, I’d played right into her hands. It had all been a setup. Nothing but lies and manipulation.

  I was halfway down the stairs when I remembered the horde of reporters waiting outside the front door. The last thing I needed was to deal with paparazzi. I stood on the first-floor landing, indecision holding me captive. There was probably a back way out but I didn’t frequent the hotel enough to know where it was. And I wasn’t about to ask; talking to anyone would most likely push me right over the edge.

  “Andi?”

  I was beginning to hate the sound of my name. I spun around, fighting for composure. “Dillon. What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you. Diana told me that you overheard her talking about Althea setting you up.”

  “So what, you’ve come to rub salt in the wound?” I hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but Dillon wasn’t exactly my idea of a knight-errant.

  “No. Of course not. I know how much you hate being manipulated. Especially when it comes to your aunt.”

  “Oh, God, Dillon, they’ve made a fool out of me,” I said, still fighting tears. “And now, thanks to Diana, everyone is going to know about it.”

  “It isn’t that bad,” he said, his expression contradicting the words.

  “It’s horrible and you know it.”

  “Well, it’s not good. But it’s also not your fault. And people will see that. Hell, if anything they’ll blame me.” He stared down at his hands, then lifted his gaze to meet mine. “Look, Andi, I know how badly I hurt you, and that you probably don’t think you can trust me. But if it helps at all, I was a complete and total ass. And for what it’s worth, I told Diana to go to hell.”

  I gave him a watery smile, feeling like I’d come full circle somehow.

  “Come on,” he said, slipping an arm around me, “let’s get you out of here. I know the back way.”

  Chapter 23

  I woke the next morning to the sound of the downstairs buzzer and the sight of my bra and a man’s tie looped together over the lamp shade: Never a good sign. Especially when the exact details surrounding their removal were a bit hazy.

  It had been a late night. A lot of talking and copious amounts of alcohol. I distinctly remember making a third pitcher of vodka tonics and then abandoning the mixers altogether. Dillon and I had talked about us. About life. About Ethan and about Althea.

  I’d dodged phone calls from both of them and fielded worried questions from Clinton and Vanessa. Neither of whom had approved of Dillon’s conciliatory visit. But I hadn’t particularly cared. I’d needed comfort and he was offering it.

  And apparently, judging from the articles of clothing strewn everywhere, all that comforting had led to a When Harry Met Sally moment. In all honesty, when you’re hurting sometimes any old port will do.

  Unfortunately, my memory wasn’t cooperating.

  Which isn’t meant to be a diss against Dillon. More an advisory against drinking too much vodka.

  Anyway, there you had it.

  Not exactly the best ending to what already had been a horrible night.

  The buzzer sounded again, and I rolled over to wake Dillon, only to find that he wasn’t there. Which only served to remind me of another morning, another man, and a completely different kind of night.

  Damn it all to hell.

  I stumbled out of bed, pulled a sheet around me, and screamed “I’m coming” to no one in particular. Bentley poked his head in the bedroom doorway, bright eyes inquisitive. I suspected he’d gotten more than an eyeful last night, but then it wouldn’t have been the first time. And at least I hadn’t dragged home a complete stranger.

  I walked into the living room just as Dillon, wearing only his pants, was pulling open the door.

  Ethan stood on the other side, his eyebrows registering his surprise with almost comic timing.

  Oh, God. I’d walked into the middle of a Noel Coward play.

  Only this one wasn’t going to have a happy ending.

  “I just came by to see if you were all right,” Ethan said, his icy gaze assessing the situation. “But clearly, you’re fine.”

  “Of
course she’s not fine,” Dillon said, his voice tight with anger. “Thanks to you, she’s been made a laughingstock. Thank God I found her before the press did.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Ethan said, his brows drawing together in confusion.

  “You and Althea,” I said. “You set me up. Or are you going to deny it?” I waited, a part of me praying that he’d tell me Diana was a liar.

  “How did you find out?”

  I felt as if someone had punched me. As if all the air inside me had been sucked out in an instant. And I realized that until just this moment some part of me had actually believed that it wasn’t true.

  “Diana,” I whispered, words nearly impossible.

  “Goddamn her,” Ethan bellowed, his fists clenching in anger.

  “I don’t think you can lay this one at her feet,” I said, my whole body shaking with reaction. “This one is all on you. And Althea. You promised me there were no more secrets. But you lied.”

  “Andi, I . . .”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” I said, raising a hand. “Believe me, your cousin has done enough talking for both of you. You deserve each other. And to think that I was actually. . . . So, what did Althea say to convince you to sign on? That poor little Andi was devastated over losing her boyfriend? That you were just the ticket for making her feel all better? Rescue the poor pathetic loser. That must have played to your nobility. Or was Diana right and Althea promised you something in return?”

  “Apparently, you’ve got it all figured out,” he said, his eyes cutting from my sheet to Dillon’s bare chest. “I’m sorry to have intruded on your morning.”

  He made a little half bow, which only reinforced my feeling that I’d been dropped into the middle of an English farce, and without another word spun on his heels and was gone. I tightened my grip on my sheet and fought the urge to throw up.

  “Good riddance,” Dillon said, slamming the door.

  “How the hell did he get up here anyway?” I asked, still staring at the door. “Did you buzz him in?”

  “Of course not.” He shook his head, heading over to pour himself a cup of coffee. “When I saw it was him, I didn’t answer. He must have followed someone in.”