Rulers of Deception (9 page)

Precautious, but also a little paranoid.

She figured that as long as she had control over what was written about her family, then there wouldn’t be a problem. There were skeletons she didn’t want brought out again, dusty, weathered bones covered in dried blood that needed to stay buried. One sniff of sensationalized journalism and she’d pull the plug and threaten the magazine with a lawsuit if they published it.

Hopefully it wouldn’t have to come to that.

She shut down her computer and massaged the back of her neck, feeling the pinch of stress there. She kneaded it with her fingertips and sighed, craving a hot bath and a glass of wine.

“
Mr. McAllister is on line one.
” Carrie’s voice sang out of the intercom, bringing Madison back to reality.

She picked up the phone and attempted a smile. “Hi, Reed.”

“
It’s Daniel
.” Annoyance darkened his tone, immediately souring her mood.

“You’re not the McAllister I was expecting,” she replied curtly, ready to brush him off. “I was just leaving—”

“
I know you’re busy. Running that company all by yourself must be tough.
”

“My family runs the company, I just lead the way.”

“
Right…look, I feel like we can work together. I think we’re more alike than you realize
.”

“How so?” She caught herself sneering, though he didn’t have the benefit of seeing it.

“
You seem like a woman who knows what she wants and takes it, no questions asked. I like that. I tend to take the things I want, too.
”

A warning signal flared off in her brain, red-hot and loud. She shoved it aside, not wanting to let him get to her. “I’m sure we got off on the wrong foot, Daniel. I’m happy to meet with you again and see if we can come to an agreement.”

“
I look forward to it.
”

She hung up on him, not even waiting to hear if he had more to say or to give him the courtesy of a goodbye. He’d wasted enough of her time already.

“Creep,” she muttered, rising to her feet and gathering her purse and some files she wanted to review at home. As she left her office, she tried to shut all thoughts of Daniel out completely.

It would have worked except his voice lingered, echoing hollowly in her mind.
I tend to take the things I want, too.

Though he’d seen
her perform dozens of times, her beauty and grace never ceased to take his breath away. He loved to sit there and simply watch her, just as spellbound as all the ballet junkies and connoisseurs that lived and breathed the stuff. Maybe he wasn’t an expert, but he’d come to love the art for being what it was: pure, human elegance.

While Lynette was whisked into a sweeping twirl by her partner on stage, Linc’s eye caught notice of the only other person he knew in the crowded theater. Simon Creswell, her ballet master.

Simon watched the ballet intently, honed in on every plié and lift and twirl. Linc noticed that when Lynette spun into her final, graceful pose, Simon’s eyes widened with awe and a proud, adoring smile lit his face.

Though he’d only met the guy a few times, Linc had always wondered if Simon held some kind of feelings for Lynette. It was probably just jealousy on his part, considering Simon was in his forties and as far as he knew was happily married. Despite that, though, he was a good-looking guy that Linc had seen other young ballet dancers fawn over, so it was only natural to assume that Lynette had as well at one point.

He trusted Lynette enough to assume she wouldn’t leave him for a gray-haired Brit with a fetish for ballet shoes, but that didn’t mean he trusted the man to keep his hands to himself.

As the dancers lined up on stage to bask in the applause, Linc rose to his feet and clapped. He whistled when Lynette took her bow, her smile brilliant as starlight.

Wasting no time, he tucked his way through the people sitting next to him to head downstairs and backstage, wanting to meet her in the dressing room like he always did. He passed by countless dancers, stagehands, and family members as he wound his way through the chaos, keeping his eyes peeled for his wife.

A few people called out his name, waving at him. Some stopped and stared. Others turned their noses up and walked in the opposite direction. He was used to the attention being a Vasser gave him, and had long since learned to ignore most of it.

By the time he found Lynette, she was just sitting down at her dressing table, releasing her tumbling length of red hair from its binds. He came up behind her, sliding his hands over her shoulders.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Their eyes met in the mirror, and Lynette smiled wistfully. “Hi, handsome.”

“You were great.”

“Was I?” She was riding on the high of the performance, her mind a jumbling vibration of nerves and relief and giddy joy. She ran a brush through her hair a few times, enjoying the feel of Linc’s hands massaging her shoulders.

He leaned in to press a kiss to the side of her neck, his lips lingering there to savor her scent. “I need to get you home and out of that outfit. Not the shoes though. You’re leaving those on.”

She giggled and swatted him away, only to notice Simon approaching. He went directly to her, kneeling down to take her hands in his and kiss her fingers.

“Bravo, my dear. Bravo.”

“Thank you.” Lynette glowed, basking in the praise. “It was a brilliant dance as usual, Simon.”

“I can only take minor credit for the masterpiece that you brought to life.” Simon rose to his feet and only then seemed to notice Linc. “Ah, hello again, Linc.”

“Simon.” Linc accepted the other man’s hand, his jaw set in a hard smile. “She’s great, isn’t she? I’m a lucky guy.”

“You most certainly are,” Simon agreed, glancing down fondly at Lynette once more. “Will you be attending the after-party? It’s also something of a birthday celebration for me. Marie insisted.”

“Oh, well, I don’t know.” Lynette blinked, a smile lighting her face. “But in case we don’t, happy birthday.”

Simon bowed his head. “Thank you.”

He wandered off to greet some of the other dancers. Linc watched him go, irritated for reasons he couldn’t explain.

Lynette removed her stage makeup and disappeared behind a nearby folding screen for a second to change her clothes. When she returned, she gathered up her purse and duffle bag. “Ready to go? I don’t really want to go to the party. They usually end with Simon urging me to drink more champagne than I can handle and then I hate life the next morning.” She laughed to herself, not noticing the tension in the air. “I just want a shower and my bed. Oh, and maybe you too.”

Linc snorted as he slipped his arm over her shoulders and led her from the room, his eyes still on Simon. “Good to know I’m on the schedule.”

“You always are.” She let him direct her down a hallway that led to a dark, quiet area backstage where the prop masters stored old decorations that lay lost and forgotten. They were there before she realized what was going on. “Why are we back here?”

He said nothing and cornered her against the wall, pressing her into the cool, painted brick. His mouth found hers greedily, unapologetically, taking what he needed from her. When she returned the kiss and her nails bit into his back, he reveled in the feel of it.

“Linc, someone could walk back here and see us,” she reminded him, her voice catching in her throat when he lifted her hips and brought her legs around him.

“I don’t care. I can’t wait.” Some dark part of him wanted them to be found. By Simon, in particular. He knew it wouldn’t happen but something about the concept gave him a sick kind of pleasure. The man was sniffing around his wife, and if it went any further then he’d just have to kill him.

Lynette shivered, her fingers winding through his hair. Her head fell back so his lips could cruise over the curve of her exposed neck. When he sampled the spot just below her left ear, she felt her entire body ache for him.

“God, okay. Fast. Really fast,” she managed, letting him lift her dress and tear aside what little clothing kept him from her. In the distance somewhere far away she could hear the thrum of voices and the sound of the stage being taken apart, but it all seemed to fall away under the heat of his touch and the vibrating hum of need.

When he shifted her hips and drove himself into her, she stifled back a cry, biting his shoulder to keep the sound from escaping. Her hands grasped at his back as he held her tight against the wall, his movements suddenly desperate and feral. Just what had gotten into him, she couldn’t say. She could barely think with all the heat exploding through her system. There’d be bruises on her back, she was sure of it. Somehow she couldn’t care.

He kissed her as his body took what he needed, letting the jealousy fuel him. And as he watched the lake blue of her eyes darken in the dim light, dazed and rich with love for him, he let the rest of it all go.

Wyatt wandered into
the bathroom, carrying a glass of red wine. He sat on the edge of the tub and handed it to Madison. “My lady.”

She sipped at the wine, then eyed him deviously. “You opened my ’99 Shiraz. You must think I’m suicidal.”

He shrugged. “You came home, unplugged the phone, then threw our wedding gift from McAllister into the fireplace. If you’re not suicidal, then you’re at least angry about something. And I’m gonna guess it has to do with him.”

She sighed, letting her head fall back against the lip of the tub. “This time I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“All right. Though I did like that first edition copy of
The Fountainhead
.” He reached over to brush aside a strand of hair that had fallen over her forehead, his fingers lingering over the skin of her cheek. Gently, he turned her head to face him. When her eyes opened, he grinned. “You have twenty seconds to enjoy that tub before I climb in there with you.”

A playful spark lit in her eyes. “Is that a threat, darling?”

“I’d like to think of it as an inevitability.” He chuckled as he stood and lifted off his black T-shirt, discarding it on the floor. Before he could unbutton his jeans, something out the window caught his eye.

He stepped closer, squinting into the darkness in an attempt to see better. Outside on the quiet street, a non-descript black van was parked. Though it was nearly nine o’clock at night, he caught the outline of someone sitting in the driver’s seat. Light from one of the streetlamps flashed over the lens of a camera, and he could almost hear the sound of the shutter clicking.

He’d seen paparazzi outside Madison’s townhouse before, but not in awhile. It was possible they were bored and hunting up something new to gossip about, though for some reason he questioned that rationalization.

Deciding not to worry Madison over it, he shut the blinds and slipped out of his jeans.

“Why don’t I take you out to lunch tomorrow?” he suggested, thinking he’d see if the van showed up at the hotel, too.

Madison set aside her wine and leaned over to rest her arms on the lip of the tub, eyeing him with a seductive smile. “Sure. Now get in here before the water gets cold.”