Wilde at Heart (25 page)

“Hmm. A.I. huh? That’s not your usual wheelhouse, Wilde.”

“No, it’s something new we’ve been tinkering with at DMW.”

“Okay, I’m intrigued,” Tuc said and dipped a hand into his jacket pocket at the sound of a discreet chime. He took out his phone, read the text, and his smile faded. “Shit.”

“Everything okay?”

“Nope. The HORNET boys are in trouble—again. Looks like I’m flying to Europe tonight.” He pocketed his phone, but he didn’t seem all that heartbroken about having to leave. He held out his hand to Shelby. “You keep this guy from working too hard. It was nice meeting you.” Then he clapped Reece on the shoulder. “Call my office, and let’s set something up for later this week. I should be back in town by then.”

As he strode away, Shelby squealed. “Reece! You didn’t tell me you know Tucker Quentin!”

Poor guy looked genuinely baffled. “Was…I supposed to?”

“Yes! He was only, like, every teenage girl’s fantasy guy when I was in high school. I had a poster of him hanging over my bed. I always imagined him riding in on a limo like Richard Gere at the end of
Pretty Woman
and taking me away from my life. I blew that poster a kiss every night before I went to sleep.”

His puzzlement faded into a scowl. “You better not still have it.”

“No, of course not. I was a teenager.”

“Good. I’m the only guy you should be kissing before bed.” He snaked an arm around her waist, pulled her in to his side, and planted a possessive kiss on her lips.

It should have been an act. Days ago, it would have been. But something had changed tonight and the kiss…it tugged all the way to the bottom of her heart. It was
real
, and it scared the ever-loving hell out of her.

He drew away slightly, resting his forehead against hers, and gazed down into her eyes. “How are you doing? You okay?”

“Yes.” And it was the truth. The events from the afternoon still played in the back of her mind like a broken record, but she wasn’t as heartsick over it now. She was actually glad for this gala. It provided exactly the distraction she’d needed.

She poked him in the ribs. “Just don’t spring any more former teen heartthrobs on me tonight. I don’t know if my fangirl can take it. Oh my God, did you hear me? I squeaked like a freaking mouse!”

He laughed. “No more teen heartthrobs. It’s a deal,” he said and sealed it with another quick peck on the lips.

Over his shoulder, she spotted Irving James headed in their direction and winced. “Oh boy. Looks like it’s show time.”

Reece followed her gaze. Swore softly. “Yeah, looks like.”

“Reece,” James said, all fake smiles. “Sheila. It’s good to see you both.”

“Her name is Shelby,” Reece corrected.

“Right, right. Of course.” James waved a hand. “Was that Tucker Quentin I just saw you talking to? I’d love an introduction.”

“He was called away,” Reece said, and the note of dismissive coolness in his voice made Shelby glance over at him in question. He’d been so relaxed talking to Tuc, but now his shoulders were tense, his smile tight and no longer easy. What was he doing? He was going to ruin his chances to secure the deal with James if he kept this up. Was it because he was still feeling uber-protective of her? James was an ass toward women, so maybe Reece was bracing for an off-color comment. If that was the case, she should excuse herself.

Across the room, she noticed Charlotte James speaking to several other women, including Alicia Porter. She gave Reece’s arm a little squeeze to get his attention, then excused herself with a polite smile for James.

On her way toward the women, she snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. She was going to need it.

“Shelby!” Charlotte said and leaned in for a hug and an air kiss. “I was just saying I hoped you’d make it tonight. We’re so looking forward to the show, aren’t you?”

Show? Reece hadn’t mentioned she’d have to sit through a show tonight. “Yes, I’m excited.”
For a nap,
she tacked on silently. Because that’s what she’d end up doing if she was forced to sit through an opera.

The women spent several minutes chatting about the show, the singers, and spreading around some juicy bits of gossip about people Shelby didn’t know. She nodded and smiled and made all of the appropriate noises until Alicia leaned in.

“I noticed you’re not wearing your wedding ring,” she said in a hushed tone. But not hushed enough because the other women stopped talking and focused in on their conversation. “Is everything okay between you and Reece?”

“Oh.” She gazed down at her empty hand.

I don’t want this to end.

Nerves fluttered in her chest at the memory of Reece’s words, and she curled her fingers around the stem of her glass. Amazing how after such a short time as Mrs. Wilde, she’d gotten so used to wearing her ring that she now felt naked without it.

“Shelby?” Alicia’s expression filled with alarm. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. But we, uh…” She floundered for a moment, grasping for an excuse, then decided the truth was the best course of action. Since there was a police report, the robbery would probably be posted in the newspaper tomorrow. “Well, honestly, we were robbed earlier this evening.”

The women all gasped.

“Then why on earth are you here tonight?” Alicia asked, eyes wide.

Shelby sipped her champagne to wet her suddenly parched throat. “Reece wanted to cancel, but I told him no. This is exactly what we need to take our minds off the robbery.”

“Oh my goodness.” Charlotte James pressed a hand over her diamond necklace as if protecting it. “Nothing too valuable was taken, I hope.”

What a materialistic bitch.

Shelby winced at the venom in her thoughts. Maybe Reece was right and they should have cancelled, because she was finding it so much harder than usual to play her part for these women. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and all she really wanted to do was go home with Reece, curl up on the couch, and watch a Japanese monster movie together.

“No,” she managed, beating down her annoyance. “Just my ring, a few paintings, and Reece’s laptop. Not the business one,” she added. She didn’t want Charlotte saying
something to her husband about DMW having shoddy security. “The business files are all perfectly safe.”

Charlotte fanned herself with one dainty hand. “Oh, you poor thing. I don’t know how you’re so calm about it all. I’d be an absolute wreck!”

“I’ll tell you how she’s so calm.” Lena Schilling, who had been lurking like a vulture on the outskirts of their little circle, pushed her way forward. “Shelby’s used to dealing with scum. Isn’t that right?”

Unable to keep a straight face, Shelby scowled at the woman. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do.” She leaned in close and her breath reeked of vodka. “I know all about you, Shelby Wilde. Or should I call you Shelby Bremer? Though you’re certainly not from the California Bremers like we thought.”

Oh, no. No, no, no. A cold sweat broke out at her temples, and she resisted the urge to swipe at it. “You’re drunk, Lena.
You
don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Shelby Bremer,
not
of the California Bremers, daughter of Katrina, a drug addict and occasional prostitute. And from the looks of things, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She pulled a handful of photographs from her jewel-studded purse and flung them. They scattered across the floor.

The blackmailer’s photos. All of them. Stills from the video of her and Reece together at The Bean Gallery. The Vegas hotel photos. The not-so-flattering pictures of her before she decided she needed to straighten up her life…

All of it, laid out right there on the floor for everyone to see.

Charlotte scooped up several of the photos, her face white. “What is all this?”

“Blackmail,” Shelby whispered and her stomach twisted. “It was you.”

Lena scoffed. “I’m merely exposing a fake.” Puffed up with righteous indignation, she faced Charlotte. “She doesn’t belong in high society. She doesn’t even belong in the middle class. She’s nothing but white trash, and Reece only married her because he got caught slumming and was afraid of losing your husband’s approval.”

“Oh,” Charlotte breathed, and her cheeks flushed bright red as she flipped through the photos. “This is…disgusting.” She spared Shelby a contemptuous glance before scurrying away, pictures in hand. No doubt she was going to find her husband.

It was over. Just like she’d told Reece it would be. Only she hadn’t expected the end to come so soon. Or so publicly.

Shelby whirled around, needing to get away, to go somewhere else. Anywhere else. She felt as if every eye in the room was staring at her, judging her. Imagined the scornful whispers, the derisive jokes they’d all say about her.

She spotted a doorway not blocked by people and lurched toward it, but Alicia grabbed her arm.

“Shelby, wait—”

“No. I…can’t stay here. I can’t—” Voice cracking, she shook off Alicia’s grip and raced from the ballroom.

White trash.

God. How foolish of her to think a dye job and a bit of makeup would be enough to hide what she was.

T
he more Reece listened to Irving James talk, the more he was sure he didn’t want to tie his company to the man in any way, shape, or form. For so long, he’d thought it was wrong
to let his personal feeling of distaste get in the way of business, but fuck that. It was his business and, from here on out, he was only making deals that felt good. No more of this acid-like feeling in his gut or worrying whether he’d do or say the wrong thing and offend the wrong person. He’d figure out another way to keep Wilde Security afloat that wasn’t akin to selling his soul to this devil. In fact, he was ninety percent certain he’d already found another way thanks to the genius of Cliff McWilliam. He’d been so zeroed in on the deal with James that he hadn’t noticed the way out of Wilde Security’s financial crisis was sitting right under his feet in the basement of DMW.

He’d been so stupid. Stupid and tunnel-visioned. And if it wasn’t for Shelby opening his eyes to all kinds of possibilities he’d never considered, he may very well still be that short-sighted man.

All right. Enough was enough.

Reece opened his mouth to tell Irving James the deal was off, but he never got the chance. Charlotte bustled over and shoved something into her husband’s hand. Crossing her arms, she glared at Reece like he was a cockroach.

And he knew. Even before James’s eyes bugged and his face flushed red, he knew the jig was up.

“W-Wilde,” James sputtered and held up the photos. “Explain this!”

He should probably be panicking right now, but all he felt was a giddy rush of relief. He laughed. “I don’t owe you a damn thing.” He turned to go find Shelby and get the hell out of here, but stopped short. “Wait. Yes, I do have something to say. I’ve been so busy trying to kiss your ass I was ruining the best thing I’ve ever had, forcing her to change herself to suit your antiquated view of how a woman should act and what a marriage should be. Yeah, well, fuck you. DMW is pulling out of this deal.” He grabbed the photos from James’s hand. “Have
a nice night.”

There was a distinct bounce in his step as he left the ballroom. He’d just committed social suicide, and he felt like dancing. Hell, maybe he would take Shelby dancing.

Except then he saw her standing on the front steps of the building, shivering, tears freezing on her cheeks, and his good mood died a slow, painful death. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her.

“Shelby, baby. What are you doing out here without your coat?”

“Y-you have the valet ticket. And the car keys. I couldn’t leave, but I couldn’t stay in there. The pictures are out. It was Lena. Your blackmailer.”

She was like an ice cube, and he pulled her into him, rubbed her back to generate some warmth. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“How can you say that?” Yanking free of his arms, she plopped down on the steps and hid her face behind her hands. “I’ve ruined everything for you. I always ruin everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anything. I promise you didn’t.” He wanted to tell her that he’d spent the entire day at DMW, discussing Cliff’s A.I. side project and that he saw so much potential there, he didn’t think they needed Irving James after all. They only had to shift DMW’s direction a bit—but it all hinged on selling the idea to Tucker Quentin, and he didn’t dare say anything out loud for fear of jinxing it.

So, instead, he pulled her hands away from her face and crouched to put himself in her line of sight. “What can I do to make tonight better?”

“Nothing.”

“Of course there’s something. What do you like to do to blow off steam?”

She hesitated.

“Shelby?”

She exhaled hard. “Usually I’d go to a club, lose myself in the music and the crowd, but—”

“All right. Where to?”

“You want to take me to a club? Dressed like this?”

“I want to do something that makes you happy for once. If that means going to a club in black-tie attire, let’s do it.”

She eyed him like he’d lost his mind. “Who
are
you? You’re not the Reece Wilde I know.”

He wasn’t entirely sure, but he liked this new version of himself. He felt lighter than he had in years. Chains he hadn’t even known he’d been wearing were breaking, falling off, and he suspected she played a major role in his newfound freedom.

“Well, someone once said I wouldn’t know spontaneity if it slapped me upside the head.” He grinned and stood. Held out a hand. “Help me prove that person wrong.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

T
here was a line around the block waiting to get into the club. Reece eyed the throng of people as he climbed out of the Escalade. “Why is everyone dressed in white?”

Shelby showed the first hint of a smile since leaving the gala. “You’ll see. C’mon.” She grasped his hand and pulled him to a side entrance. “We don’t have to wait in line. I know the bouncers.”