Fast Track (Buchanan-Renard 12)

FOURTEEN

Cordie woke up alone. She opened one eye to look at the clock. It was already ten. She wasn’t used to sleeping this late, but then she wasn’t used to having mind-blowing sex most of the night with an insatiable man. Admittedly, she wasn’t used to having sex all night with any man, and she had the sore muscles to prove it.

She groaned getting out of bed. She needed to work out more, she decided. Yeah, right. Who was she kidding? She needed to start working out so she could get in better shape. How did one get physically fit for sex?

She glanced down at the indentation on Aiden’s pillow. It must have been almost dawn when she had fallen asleep in his arms, and she hadn’t heard him get up. She listened for any sound coming from the suite but heard nothing. The memory of their night together played out in her mind, and her face grew warm just thinking about it. Never in her life had she been so uninhibited. Never had she felt such passion, such total ecstasy. Aiden was an amazing lover, gentle and giving, yet demanding. She smiled for just a second remembering, but her smile quickly disappeared as reality set in.

Oh God, what had she done? In one night her entire plan for getting away from Aiden had gone up in smoke. Granted, it was an incredible and euphoric night, but it changed everything. Or did it? What was last night? She sat on the edge of the bed and pondered her situation. Was it a one-night stand? Two people giving in to their desires? Maybe. They were both adults, after all, and it was totally natural under the circumstances for them to be drawn to each other.

Or was it something more? Aiden had been very tender and affectionate, but there were no words of endearment, no mention of love. Why would there be? He probably had taken dozens of women to his bed in the past; why would she be different? Her heart ached just a little, but she wouldn’t let herself dwell on the negative. Last night had been fantastic. She would file it away as a wonderful memory and move on.

A hot shower revitalized her . . . sort of, anyway. Aiden had mentioned that he expected her to go somewhere with him today, but he hadn’t told her where. Knowing Aiden, jeans wouldn’t be appropriate wherever he was taking her. She decided to wear one of the lovely dresses Miss Marie had insisted she add to her wardrobe. It was a deep purple dress with a jewel neck, long sleeves, and a flared skirt. She slipped into her favorite nude heels. She didn’t want to mess with her hair, so she pulled it up in a ponytail, applied her perfume, and was ready to go.

Breakfast was waiting for her. The table was set for one, and on the place mat were a bottle of Diet Coke and a silver bowl of ice with a container of blueberry yogurt. There was also a basket of croissants and pastries and another basket filled with fruit. She didn’t eat much, just a little of her yogurt, because Aiden had left her a note telling her he was taking her to lunch at the Empire and to be ready at noon.

While she sipped her Diet Coke she answered e-mails. There were more than thirty of them, several from students begging her to return to school. They were having trouble with their chemistry class and blamed the teachers. Apparently the first teacher Sister Delores had hired for the summer school session had lasted one week before he had had enough and quit. According to one student’s e-mail they were going through teachers faster than they could scarf down a bag of Doritos. The impassioned pleas tugged at Cordie’s heartstrings. The boys could be difficult, but they weren’t impossible to handle. All it took was a firm hand, patience, and a sense of humor. She was surprised by how much she already missed them.

She saved the longest e-mail she had to write for last. She knew Sophie and Regan were waiting to hear how it was going, and it took a while for her to put her tumultuous thoughts into words. She told them a little about the ball and seeing Simone with her doting family. She also mentioned Simone’s ridiculous fainting spell and promised to give them more details when she got back to Chicago. Cordie was sorry she hadn’t tried to sneak a couple of photos with her smartphone to send, but she hadn’t thought about it until she was on her way back to the hotel. Yes, it was a missed opportunity, and she doubted she would get another chance, because Aiden had informed her they would be returning to Chicago tomorrow after a meeting he had scheduled in the morning. She was ready to go home. She had accomplished what she had set out to do, and now she wanted to get as far away from the Rayburns as possible.

It was only after she had sent the e-mail that she realized she hadn’t said much about Aiden. Would her friends think that was odd? Even though Sophie and Regan were her closest friends, she didn’t want them to know she’d slept with him. Besides, she had convinced herself that what had happened with Aiden was a fluke, and it would never happen again.

The last e-mail she sent was to Alec telling him she had met his friend Liam Scott and how charismatic she thought the man was. She had just one question: Which side of the law was he on?

At eleven thirty she texted Aiden and told him she wanted to stop in the gift shop and she would meet him in the lobby by the atrium at noon. She tossed her sunglasses and phone into her purse, applied lip gloss, and was heading to the elevator when the hotel phone rang. On the chance it might be Aiden she was quick to answer.

She didn’t recognize the man’s voice, but it was pleasant.

“Is Andrew Kane there? I’d like to talk to him.”

That question got her attention. “Who is calling?” she asked.

“A friend.”

“Your name?” she pressed politely.

“A friend,” he said again, but this time his voice wasn’t quite so pleasant.

All right, then . . . if that was how he wanted to play it. “Mr. Andrew Kane is not available.”

“When will he be back?”

“I couldn’t say.”

“What about the daughter? Is she available?”

“No,” she answered.

Before she could demand an explanation, he responded with, “Thank you. I’ll try again later,” and hung up.

She replaced the phone and fell back against the credenza. What was that all about? A burst of anger seized her. Simone had to be behind the call. Who else could it be? And evidently she thought Cordie’s father was still alive. The way she had reacted to seeing Cordie at the ball made it perfectly clear she wasn’t going to spread the word anytime soon that she had an illegitimate daughter she had abandoned. If word got out, it would ruin her standing in the community. Women who threw their babies away didn’t win Mother of the Year. The caller was either related to Simone or worked for her, right? That was the only thing that made sense. But what did Simone want?

Cordie’s hands were shaking. The call had rattled her, but now that she thought about it, she shouldn’t be surprised. She certainly had made it easy for Simone to find her. Not only had she put the letter in a Hamilton Hotel envelope, but she had also been at Aiden’s side, and practically everyone in Sydney society knew who he was. There might as well have been a neon arrow over the hotel pointing to her whereabouts.

Now what? Cordie couldn’t squelch her anger long enough to think like a logical person. She didn’t know what she should do—if anything. She decided to put it aside for now, until she could think clearly and calmly. The gift shop. She suddenly remembered she was heading downstairs to buy a bottle of the hotel’s special body lotion. Maybe by the time she met Aiden for lunch she could be reasonable again.

The lobby was crowded with guests checking in and out. She skirted her way around a large group of businessmen and headed to the corridor that led to the gift shop. Adjacent to the hallway was a beautiful floor-to-ceiling crackled mirror and in front of it was a mahogany table with a huge vase of fresh-cut flowers. The colors were spectacular, and Cordie stopped to admire the arrangement. As she was leaning over to take in the wonderful fragrance of the hyacinths, she glanced into the mirror and froze. Over her right shoulder she saw the reflection of Simone Rayburn walking toward the front desk. There were two men behind her, and Cordie couldn?

??t tell if they were with Simone or not. Wearing dark suits with solid conservative ties, they reminded her of CIA agents she’d seen in movies: stiff and unapproachable. One of them was of medium height with a stocky build and thick, wavy hair. His bushy eyebrows shaded dark eyes with deep lines around them, and his mouth seemed to be dragged down by the Fu Manchu mustache that ended at his jowl line. The other man with him was tall. His head was bald, most likely shaved to give a strong, manly appearance, but his attempt to be macho was contradicted by the round wire-rimmed glasses that made him look like a midlife-crisis Harry Potter. The two men followed at a discreet distance, and when Simone stopped at the desk, they paused, too. They were definitely with her. They were looking around the lobby, and Cordie knew they would eventually spot her once the crowd thinned out.

“Cordelia?” Louis, the general manager of the hotel, was walking toward her from the hallway.

She flinched at the sound of her name but quickly recovered and smiled. She didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “I have a favor to ask. Would you please stay in the lobby? The woman in the blue suit talking to the concierge, and the two men she brought along want to talk to me. It isn’t going to be . . . amiable. Will you stay close by?”

“Of course. Would you like me to sit in on the meeting with you?”

“No, thank you,” she said.

He nodded, then said, “Here she comes. I believe I’ll post two guards at the front door.”

“Hopefully this will be quick,” Cordie said. She braced herself and turned around.

Simone had recognized her and was waiting for Cordie to come to her. They met in the center of the lobby.

Cordie’s greeting wasn’t cordial. “What do you want?”

Simone didn’t seem fazed by Cordie’s anger. “I thought we could go somewhere private to talk. There’s so much to say.” She motioned to the men behind her.

Cordie watched them walk past Simone and come toward her. Oh hell no. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Why would you think I would?”

The man with the Harry Potter glasses grabbed Cordie’s upper arm with a tight grip. She was astonished. Did Simone think she could drag Cordie out of the hotel?

“I don’t wish to be seen with you,” Simone whispered. “We look so much alike. I know a lot of people, and they’ll talk.”

Cordie looked down at the hand squeezing her as the thug forcefully pulled her away. She tried to yank her arm from his grasp as she screamed at the top of her voice, “Let go of me!”

Every person in the lobby turned toward her. Several men started forward to offer assistance, including Louis, who was all but running to her.

Simone gasped. “Bloody . . . Charles, let go of her. Arnold, step back.”

They quickly obeyed. When they moved to stand behind Simone again, Cordie put her hand up so Louis and the others would know she was okay.

“You have a choice, Simone. Or should I call you Natalie just for fun?”

Simone’s face became a mask. She wasn’t giving anything away.

Cordie pointed to the other side of the lobby. “You can either sit over there at one of the tables by the bar and talk, or you can leave. Which is it? I’m rooting for the second.”

Without a word, Simone walked to the tables. She chose one cast in shadows and sat with her back to the lobby. The men who came with her stayed where they were. Cordie took her time following. When she finally sat down at the table across from Simone, she stared at the woman and waited. Simone couldn’t quite meet her gaze. She nervously crossed her legs and brushed imaginary lint off her skirt, stalling while she gathered her thoughts and chose the perfect words to say.

Impatient, Cordie repeated the first words she’d said to her. “What do you want?”

Simone finally looked at Cordie. “That is the very question I have for you. Do you want money to keep silent? How much will it take?”

“I don’t want money.”

She didn’t think Simone believed her, and that guess was confirmed when Simone said, “Your father is a mechanic. Of course you want money.”

Cordie laughed. “No, I really don’t.”

“Then what?” Simone demanded, her frustration rising to the surface. She drummed her perfectly manicured fingernails on the tabletop. “Do you want an apology? Does Andrew? An explanation? I was young, very young. I didn’t even know I was pregnant until it was too late to do anything about it.”

Lovely, Cordie thought. “Should I feel sorry for you because you couldn’t abort me?”

Simone shook her head. “No, of course not. This isn’t going the way I thought it would. You’re a very . . . hostile young lady.”

Cordie wasn’t going to argue. She was hostile.

“How is your father?” Simone asked. Her voice was softer now. “Tell him I’m sorry if I caused him pain.” In the blink of an eye her voice hardened. “Did he send you?”

“No.”

“Revenge, then?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Did you come here seeking revenge because I left you?”

“No,” she answered. “I had a wonderful childhood.”

“Then why did you come here?” Simone asked with actual bewilderment.

If Simone weren’t sitting there looking at her so disdainfully, Cordie might have had just the slightest speck of sympathy for her, but the woman was so caught up in her self-absorbed world she didn’t have a clue. There wasn’t an ounce of regret or contrition for what she had done. Her grand deception was a thing of the past, a fluke. If it didn’t impact her life, it wasn’t important.

The scene Cordie had witnessed at the ball came back to her. Simone was surrounded by her friends and devoted family. By all appearances, her two sons were affectionate, even solicitous, toward their mother. Her husband seemed to genuinely care for her, and her father, the patriarch of the family, obviously had a strong bond with his daughter, because she clearly did not want to upset or disappoint him. She was loved and admired, and she lived in a world that never knew Natalie Smith.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Cordie answered, “but it’s important to me that you know there’s someone out there who sees you for who you really are.”

Simone leaned forward with a look as cold as ice. “You asked me what I want . . . ,” she began.

“Yes?”

“Go home and keep quiet.”

“Even if I give you my word, how will you know I’ll keep it?”

Simone paled, but the steely tone in her voice did not change. “I won’t know. I can’t trust you.”

“No, you can’t.”

Cordie saw Aiden walk into the hotel and head in the direction of the atrium. He was in a hurry, and since they were supposed to meet at noon, she thought he would be looking for her. Time to wrap up this twisted reunion, she decided.

She stood to leave, but before she walked away, she got the final word. “I’m going home tomorrow, and it is my sincere hope that I never have to speak to you again. You deceived a good and honorable man, and you abandoned your child. Do you honestly think I would tell anyone about you? You’re an embarrassment.”

FIFTEEN

Aiden was livid. Louis had texted him to let him know about Simone and the two enforcers she’d brought along to the hotel, and when he heard that they had tried to take Cordelia, he went ballistic.

He all but shouted at her. “The second that son of a bitch put his hand on you he should have been thrown out of the hotel. What was Louis thinking? Why didn’t he—”

“He came running. You can’t be angry with him.”

Aiden and Cordie were standing together in the security room. She thought she had entered NORAD when she’d first walked in. There were monitors everywhere. The room was the size of their suite—maybe bigger—and one of the technicians was pulling up the footage of what Cordie ca

lled the incident. Aiden’s words were a little more descriptive: “I’m going to smash that bastard’s face in.” Cordie had never seen him so furious.

She had been nervous at first when she’d caught up with him in the lobby. She didn’t know how he would react to her after their passionate night together, and she was feeling self-conscious and a bit unsure of herself. Would things be awkward between them now? She had her answer within seconds. All her concerns were eliminated when Aiden heard about her unexpected visitors. He immediately took charge and began to bark out orders. He was the old Aiden again, confident and in control, and his attitude toward her was no different than it had been. He was still as bossy as ever.

“Here it is,” the technician said. “Do you want audio, sir?”

“You can listen to conversations in the lobby?” Cordie didn’t know if she should be appalled or impressed. “You shouldn’t listen to other people’s private conversations.”

“No, we shouldn’t,” Aiden agreed. Then to the technician he said, “Isolate the audio and play it.”

“Aiden, that can’t be legal,” Cordie complained.

He didn’t agree or disagree. His hands shoved into his pockets, he stood behind the technician and watched the monitor. Neither he nor Cordie said another word while they listened to a replay of the horrible conversation she’d had with Simone. She was amazed that the technician could remove background noise just by adjusting some knobs. She kept glancing up at Aiden to gauge his reaction, but there wasn’t any, until Simone whispered that she didn’t want to be seen with Cordie, followed by Cordelia’s scream. He smiled then. Cordie had to admit the look on Simone’s face was priceless. She looked as though she’d just noticed she wasn’t wearing any clothes.

“Freeze the frames and get two good photos of those men, and send them to this number,” Aiden ordered as he handed a card to the tech. “Send them to me as well.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking Cordie’s hand. “Good work, Harold.” He opened the door for her. “Maybe we should cancel lunch. We can eat here in the hotel.”