One Season And Dynasties Collection

Two more paramedics came through the door with a stretcher.

Louise protested, “Oh, please, gentlemen—a wheelchair would do.”

“It’s for your protection, ma’am.”

“I will ride in the ambulance with Louise,” Ethan declared.

“No. I will,” Fernando countered.

“Family only, please,” one of the technicians said over his shoulder as he secured Louise onto the stretcher.

“I’m her husband.”

“I am coming as well,” Ethan insisted.

To the outside eye they must look like an odd sort of family. Elderly Aunt Louise. Nephew Ethan, who was probably being mistaken for her son, and Holly for his wife. Then Fernando, with his tanning salon skin and over-styled hair, who looked exactly the part of a cougar’s husband.

The hotel manager headed the pack as the technicians began wheeling the stretcher out of the suite. Fernando and Ethan followed closely behind.

Ethan turned his head back to Holly. “You go home to the apartment.”

“I’d like to come to the hospital, too.”

Irritated at even having to discuss this further, Ethan repeated his order. “There is no need for you to be at the hospital. Go back to the apartment.”

The hotel manager led them to a private elevator and swiped her access card.

Ethan dashed a text into his phone.

“I could take a taxi and meet you there,” Holly pleaded. “I want to be there for you and—”

He cut her off. “I have just instructed Leonard to pick you up in front of the hotel.”

This was a private matter that Holly had no place in, despite appearances. While he had certainly become accustomed to having her around, she was still only an employee, and Louise’s health was a personal thing. Ethan did not want Holly to overhear any discussions with doctors, or any information regarding a prognosis for his aunt. What Holly had just witnessed in the suite was beyond what his fiancée-for-hire should be privy to.

Ethan feared that he was starting to lose his better judgment around Holly. It was becoming so easy, so natural to let her into his life. If he allowed himself to, he might long for her support at the hospital. He knew it would be hours of waiting and worrying while Aunt Louise was examined.

He had nothing to say to Fernando. Wouldn’t sitting with Holly in the waiting area, sharing a paper cup full of coffee, huddled together, be a comfort?

No! Once again, he reminded himself of Holly’s place in this dynamic. Despite how they might appear, to the paramedics or anyone else, Holly was not part of this family.

Not. Family.

He pointed down the hall toward the public elevator they had ridden up to the suite. “Holly, please return to ground floor and retrieve my things from the ballroom. Thank you.”

Louise was wheeled into the private elevator, and everyone but Holly got in.

Just as the doors were closing Ethan saw in Holly’s eyes that he’d upset her by not allowing her to come along. But this was no time to focus on her. She should know and respect that.

“I will phone you as soon as I hear anything, all right?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

So much for being part of the family.

Holly made it through the car ride home from the hotel, and it wasn’t until she opened the door to the dark, empty apartment that tears spilled down her face.

Louise’s condition was heartbreaking, and Holly hoped that she wasn’t seriously injured after the tumble she’d taken. That she would be able to make it to the gala tomorrow night.

Ethan and Louise had such a finely tuned strategy to keep the extent of her illness hidden from the public. Holly admired their efforts. And thankfully the paramedics were only taking Louise to the hospital as a precaution.

She flipped on the lights. Slung her jacket on the coat rack. Kicked off her boots. And then she allowed in some self-pity. If she ever needed a reminder that this engagement was all a front, she had her proof. She was not, and nor would she ever be, a member of this clan.

Once they’d arrived at Louise’s hotel suite Ethan had barely acknowledged her presence. Not that she would have expected him to pay lots of attention to her, but she had to admit she was surprised at how completely he had shut her out.

Holly had offered to go along to the hospital to be there for Louise and for Ethan—as a friend who rallied round when maybe a hand to hold would be welcome. But Ethan would have none of it, and hadn’t been able to get her out of the picture swiftly enough.

Everything had moved so fast this week. How had she got here? To feeling sorry for herself because she was left behind? How had she come to care so much for these people so quickly? She’d become so involved in Ethan’s life she could hardly remember a time when she hadn’t been. Had she forgotten who she was?

Holly Motta was an artist who had spent four long years married to the wrong man.

Ricky hadn’t made it easy for her to leave. Even after she’d moved out of the last place they’d been living he’d shown up at her work and insisted on talking to her. Or he’d followed her car and confronted her at a supermarket or in a bank parking lot. It had got to the point that she’d had to change her phone number. Month after month he had refused to sign the legal documents divorcing them, leaving her hanging in limbo. Finally he’d given up and cut her loose.

It had taken her two years to feel truly unshackled from the demanding and possessive hold Ricky had on her. Now she was determined to move forward with her life. This prospect with Ethan had presented itself and she’d snatched it. The job, this apartment, the clothes...the promise of a glamorous escapade with an exciting man.

Nothing wrong with any of that. Life was throwing her a bone, for once. And she was taking it. Life on life’s terms.

The problem was the illusion was so convincing that she was starting to buy it.

Twenty-nine years of hurt overtook her. She wasn’t tough, like New York. She couldn’t endure another defeat. Withstand another wound. Her heart functioned in broken pieces that were only taped together and could collapse at any minute. Maybe this masquerade was too dangerous. She didn’t think she had it in her to bounce back from anguish yet again.

Restless, she went to the kitchen. Drank a full glass of water in one gulp. It had been hours since she’d eaten. A few slices of cheese and bread went down easily as she munched them standing up.

She hoped Ethan would get a bite to eat at the hospital. He’d be hungry, too. Ugh! She needed to stop caring about things like whether or not he had eaten. Had to break her habit of always looking after people.

She paced back to the living room. Judged the paintings she had been working on in the little studio area she had created by the window. They were a good start to the ideas she had in her head. A drawing pad perched on the easel. She mindlessly picked up a stick of charcoal and began to put it to paper.

After a few minutes she cranked up some funky music and swung her hips from left to right to the beat. A little sketching, a little boogie-woogie—that was always how she got through everything in her life.

Curved lines on the page. A man’s jaw. Not square and chiseled like Ethan’s. That buzz-cut hair. The thick swash of eyelashes.

A smile crossed her lips.

Small ears. The rounded shoulders. The only person she could count on. Her brother.

Yet she hadn’t been honest with Vince about the events of the past few days. She had called him the first night she was here, when the mix-up with the apartment had started everything that had come since. She’d hinted that something had come her way. Vince had reminded her that it was her time now. That she should take hold of any prospect life threw at her.

They’d had so little in the way of support as kids. They’d always had to be each other’s cheering section.

Straight up or fall down... Holly mouthed their childhood chant.

They had been texting every day, as they always did. She’d told him that New York was amazing. That it was mostly raining. But she hadn’t told him about this weird arrangement she’d agreed to. Which had become a wild rollercoaster of feeling so right and then, in the next moment, feeling so wrong.

She hadn’t even told Vince about meeting Ethan. And she hadn’t told Ethan about her rat ex-husband, Ricky. It wasn’t like her to keep secrets. But she didn’t know where anything stood anymore. She didn’t want to make things more complicated than they already were. Even if nothing were to work out for her here in New York, Holly needed to make sure that Ethan kept his word about helping Vince.

Her brother was a good man. She was so proud of him. Every day she hoped and prayed for a bright future for him. That separately, yet bound in spirit, they’d rise up like phoenixes from the ashes of their childhood.

She thumbed her phone.

“Holz?” Vince used his nickname for his sister.

“Vinz!” Holly sandwiched the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she finished drawing her brother’s arm. Their builds were so different... It was only in the eyes of their mother where the resemblance was undeniable.

“How’s New York treating you?”

“Oh... I kinda got involved in something I thought was one thing but now it seems like it’s another.”

As in tonight. Which had been reinforcement of the fact that Ethan would never regard her as anything more than a hired hand. That the feelings she’d started to have for him could only lead to misfortune.

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know... I met a man.”

“Well, sis, it’s about time you met a man. You haven’t dated anyone since you left the Rat.”

“I know. But this might not be the right thing.”

Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that the man she was talking about was Ethan Benton. The billionaire vice president, soon to be CEO, of the company Vince worked for.

“So you’ll move on to something else. We’ve done that enough times in our life, haven’t we?”

“That we have, bro.”

How often had their mother made promises? Then broken them.

“Straight up or fall down!” they recited in unison.

“Get some sleep, Holz. You sound tired.”

Holly continued sketching after the call. Line after line, listening to song after song. More glasses of water downed in one go.

Finally she sprawled across the sofa and pondered the painting of Ethan on the wall. His mouth... That urgent mouth that had covered hers a few midnights ago atop the Empire State Building. He had kissed her lips. Along her throat. Behind her ear. Her eyelids.

They fluttered with the memory.

The phone woke her up.

“Hello?” Her voice was gravelly.

“Ethan, here.”

“How’s Louise?’

“Stable. She was not badly injured by the fall.”

“Thank heavens.”

Holly’s eyes didn’t want to open fully. The sound of his voice caressed her, but didn’t erase the sting of him banning her from the hospital yesterday. Despite wishing he’d make mention of it, she knew he wouldn’t.

She had to carry on forward. “What time is it?”

“Eight in the morning.”

Tonight was the gala. Her end of the bargain was due.

“Are you still at the hospital?”

“No, I came back to one of the hotel suites to get some sleep. I did not want to wake you by coming in during the middle of the night.”

Holly stroked the leather of the sofa where Ethan had been sleeping the past few nights. If he had come home he’d have found her conked out on it after she simply hadn’t been able to stand at the easel any longer.

She’d done eight different renderings of Vince. Must have been some sort of homesickness, she mused to herself now, in the gray haze of the cloudy morning.

She stretched her neck. “What happens now?”

“Aunt Louise will be discharged in a couple of hours. Then I will send Leonard to pick you up. He will help you manage my tuxedo and your gown and whatever else you need. We can get dressed in this suite. I have ordered food. And a makeup artist and hairstylist are coming.”

“Okay.”

Ethan had everything so organized it made her head spin. How did he keep himself together? She needed a shower and coffee.

“Be prepared for a busy day and night,” he continued. “I hope you are ready, my fiancée. Because it is showtime.”

When the makeup and hair people departed the hotel suite, Holly and Ethan were finally alone for the first time all afternoon.

The last few hours had flown by. People from Benton Worldwide and from their public relations firm had come and gone from the lavish suite that had a bedroom, living room and dining table in addition to the spacious dressing area where they were now.

All of the suite’s Zen-like furnishings and décor were made from precious woods and fine fabrics, while floor-to-ceiling windows provided panoramic views of the Manhattan skyline, where the gloomy and rain-drenched day had turned to dusk.

It had been a whirlwind of introductions as Ethan had presented Holly, although of course he hadn’t yet revealed their engagement. Members of the shareholders’ board of directors had been in to confer with Ethan. And Holly had finally met Ethan’s trusted assistant, Nathan—a young man wielding four electronic devices in his two hands.

A sandwich buffet and barista bar had kept everyone fortified. Then the glam squad had arrived to give Ethan a haircut and work their magic on Holly, before filing out just now to do the same for Louise.

In the first quiet moment since she had arrived, Holly inspected herself in the mirror. She wore a white satin robe, but had already put on her jewelry and heels.

Shimmery eye makeup and soft pink lipstick gave her skin a luminous glow. The style wizards had managed to remove every speck of paint from her cuticles, so that a pearly pink manicure could complement the gown. Her hair was magically doubled in volume, thanks to the expert blow-dry she’d just received.

They had experimented with hairstyles, but gave Ethan veto power. Every time she’d asked his opinion of one of the looks they’d tried he had taken a long gander at her. He’d stopped to scratch his chin, or shot her a wink or half a smile. The way he’d studied every inch of her had been almost obscenely exciting.

And seemingly had had little to do with her hairstyle. Because each time he had decreed that he liked her hair better down.

Now she observed Ethan’s reflection behind her in the mirror. He was perched on a stool in the dressing area, reading over some papers, already in tuxedo pants and dress shoes. His stiff white shirt was on, but had not yet been buttoned. She imagined her fingers tracing down the center of his bare, lean chest.

This was really happening. She was in this castle of a hotel, about to be crowned as princess and then ride off on a majestic horse with this regal prince.

Of course in real life at the end of the night they’d shake hands on a con well played. But what the heck? She might as well enjoy it.

“Louise was okay when you talked to her a little while ago?”

“Under the circumstances.” Ethan didn’t look up from his work.

“I have an idea for tonight that might make it easier on her,” Holly said as she tightened one of her earrings in front of the mirror.

“Oh?”

“You were telling me that when it’s time for her to give her CEO speech you’ll escort her from the table up the stairs to the stage?”

“Yes.”

“I was thinking it may be difficult for her to walk up the stairs after her fall. And it won’t help to have a thousand people staring at her.”

“What is the alternative?”

“I noticed that there is a side entrance to the stage from the waiters’ station. While the video montage is playing, and it’s dark in the ballroom, we could help Louise get away from the table and up to the stage that way. With no one watching her. Then, when she’s introduced, all she has to do is come out from the side of the stage and go to the podium.”

Holly followed Ethan’s reflection in the mirror as he walked toward her. He came up behind her and circled his arms around her shoulders. He hugged her so authentically, so affectionately, she melted.

“Thank you for thinking of that,” he said softly into her ear. “Thank you for thinking about it at all. My, my.... You have already gone far beyond what I expected of you. Please accept my gratitude.”

She wanted to tell him how horribly it had hurt when he hadn’t let her go to the hospital yesterday. How much she’d wanted to be part of his family, and not just what her obligations required. How she longed to be there for him in good times and in bad.

She still had so much of her heart left to share. Nothing in her past had squelched that out of her.

But she’d never get to give that heart to him.

Even though she was now positive that he was the only man to whom she ever could.

Fearing she might cry, and tarnish her stellar makeup job, she flicked an internal switch and squirmed away from him.

“Can you help me into my gown? It weighs about ten pounds!”

Ethan went to back to the stool he had been sitting on and patted his tablet for music. A smooth male voice sang a romantic song.

Not taking his eyes off her, he drank a sip from his water bottle and then recapped it. “I would love to help you into your dress.”

She raced over and punched into his tablet the upbeat music that she favored.

Ethan’s grin swept across his lips.

Holly couldn’t resist sashaying her hips to the rhythm as she turned and headed to the closet where her gown hung. She was sure she heard him gasp when she let her robe fall to the floor to reveal the skimpy undergarments underneath.

And so the pretend soon-to-be-married couple helped each other get dressed for the gala.

“Careful with the base of the zipper—it’s delicate.”

“Blast! Do this right cufflink for me. I am no good at all with my left hand.”

“I hope this eye makeup doesn’t look too dark in the photos.”

“I do not know how women can dance in those heels. I am booking you a foot massage for tomorrow.”

“Is my hair perfect?”

“Shoulders back.”

“How do I look?”

“How do I look?”

The supposed future Mr. and Mrs. Ethan Benton exited the suite preened, perfumed and polished to perfection.

Just as they reached the entrance to the ballroom Ethan remembered he had the engagement ring in his pocket. He skimmed it onto Holly’s finger.

Yet again.

They entered the gala to a cacophony of guests, cameras and lights befitting a royal wedding.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE BALLROOM VIBRATED with the din of a thousand people. Holly’s heart thundered in her chest as Ethan maneuvered them from table to table for introductions. He charmed all the women and the men regarded him with great respect.

“Ethan, how has another year passed already?”

“Lovely to see you, Mrs. Thorpe. Good evening, Mr. Thorpe.” Ethan pecked the older lady’s cheek and shook the hand of her white-haired husband. “I would like to introduce you to Holly Motta.”

Mrs. Thorpe’s crinkly eyes lit up. “Well, now, Ethan, are we to believe that you have given up the single life at last?”

“Only because you are already spoken for,” Ethan said, flattering her.

Holly was dumbstruck and could only squeak out, “Nice to meet you.”

She felt horribly out of place. The giddy fun of getting dressed was gone now, and in this moment she felt like a young child in a Halloween princess costume. It was one thing to imagine being the fiancée of a respected and victorious billionaire. But it was another thing entirely actually to be presented as such.

“You look exquisite,” Ethan whispered in her ear, as if he sensed her discomfort.

It offered no reassurance.

This wasn’t going at all the way she’d thought it would. She hadn’t felt this kind of pressure on the yacht the other evening, when Ethan had made small talk with casual acquaintances. The people here tonight knew him well, and she felt as if everyone—but everyone—was inspecting her. Panic pricked at her skin like needles, even while her brain told her she must not let Ethan down.

Taking short and fast breaths, she shook hands with a plastered-on smile.

“Henri!” Ethan clasped the shoulder of a mustached man. “Cela fait longtemps.”

“Ça va?”

“Marie. Magnifique, comme toujours.” Ethan kissed the man’s wife on both cheeks. “Je vous présente Holly Motta.”

French. Naturally Ethan spoke perfect French. As men who take showers on private planes were likely to do.

As they walked away he told her, “Mr. and Mrs. Arnaud made a substantial personal donation to a low-income housing project we did outside of Paris.”

“Merci!” Holly threw over her shoulder.

Ethan’s eyes always took on a special shine when he mentioned those charity projects that were so important to him.

They approached a stone-faced man whose huge muscles were all but bursting out of a tuxedo that was a size too small. He stood ramrod-straight, with his arms folded across his chest. Holly saw that he wore a discreet earpiece with a barely noticeable wire.

“Holly Motta, this is Chip Foley, our head of security,” Ethan introduced her.

Chip bent toward Ethan’s ear. “I take it you received that fax with the information you requested, sir?”

Ethan looked confused. “No, I did not.”

A Japanese couple were coming toward them.

“Ethan. Ogenki desu ka?”

The woman wore an elaborate kimono.

“Hai, genki desu,” he answered back.

French wasn’t intimidating enough. He had to speak Japanese, too.

The evening was starting off like a freezing cold shower.

Holly had imagined it was going to be easier. And more fun. What girl wouldn’t want to be at the ball with the dashing prince she was madly in love with?

Madly. In. Love. With.

The four words echoed through her as if someone had yelled them into her ear. Especially the third word. Because there was no denying its truth.

She was in love with this sophisticated, handsome, brilliant man beside her.

Had it happened the very night she’d arrived in New York, when she’d opened the door to the apartment and found him reading his newspaper with that one curl of hair hanging in front of his eyes?

Had it been when he’d bought her all the painting supplies she’d been able to point to, because took her seriously as an artist in a way that no one else ever had?

Maybe it had been atop the Empire State Building, when those earth-shattering kisses had quaked through her like nothing she’d known before?

Or had it been on the yacht, under the tender shadow of the Statue of Liberty, when they’d danced together as one, late into the night?

It didn’t matter.

Because she was in love with Ethan Benton.

And that was about the worst thing that had ever happened to her.

“We should make our way to the table now,” Ethan said, after finishing his small talk in Japanese.

He took her hand and led them toward the head table, where Aunt Louise and Fernando were already sitting.

Awareness of his touch was a painful reminder that Holly would never have a bona fide seat at this family table. There would be no keeping the glass slippers. The Ethan Bentons of this world didn’t marry the Holly Mottas. She was a commoner, hired to do a job—hardly any different from either a scullery maid or an office assistant in his corporation.

Ethan’s world was a tightly coiled mechanism of wheels. She was but one small cog. Loving him was going to be her problem, not his.