When Empires Fall (47 page)

Behind him, Grant rose to his feet but held back, watching the scene unfold cautiously. Around them, most of the guests seemed oblivious to the tension between his brother and the Senator and he wanted it to stay that way.

“I don’t give a shit. Apparently we’re losing our best clients regardless of what I say or do, so why should I pretend that I’m okay with this? Because I’m not, Senator. I and my family have been dedicated and honorable to you and this is how you repay us?”

His own temper flaring, the Senator leaned in closer to Linc, his voice lowering dangerously. “I’m sorry, Linc, but next year is an election year. It’s not personal, son, not at all, but if you don’t settle down now, I’ll make it personal.”

“Daddy,” Lynette hissed, her eyebrows knitted together with both worry and disgust. She stepped closer to her father, getting between the two men.

Senator Shaw frowned down at his daughter, his eyes narrowing. “I know you like this boy, pumpkin. I like him too. But this is just politics. It isn’t personal.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” Linc interrupted, only to be cut off as Lynette touched a hand to his shoulder, her quietly serious eyes meeting his disparagingly.

“I don’t expect you to fully understand, Linc,” she said softly, defensively. His eyes hardened as he stared back at her, his mouth set in a grim line as she continued. “One bad press circuit can ruin a politician. The media can do major damage…you know this as well as I do. You need to consider the cost my father will be paying if he continues to openly support your family.”

“Jesus, Lynette,” Linc murmured, eyeing her as if she were a stranger. “It’s not like I’m asking him to declare me a saint or anything. I just don’t want this stigma out there that we’re bad people and not worth doing business with.”

“That’s not at all what he thinks.” Lynette shook her head, trying to maintain reason.

“The Vasser name is now associated with murder, rumor or not. The damage is done,” Lynette’s mother chimed in, waving the declaration off with an air of disdain. “In fact, Lynette, you may want to reconsider your involvement as well. Your ballet master may not tolerate his principal dancer being involved with one of the Vassers, not if it means damaging the reputation of the New York Ballet itself.”

Lynette’s eyes widened, her lips parting as she considered her mother’s words. Uncertainty warred with every last defense she had in her for Linc and she found she had no words to say in response. Could her relationship with him seriously hurt the ballet company?

Linc watched Lynette, noting the doubt that flashed over her features. Fury filled him again as he turned to her mother.

“This is just some bullshit tactic to keep me away from your daughter.”

“I’m only letting her know what may happen if she continues down this dangerous path she’s on,” Mrs. Shaw said frostily.

Irritated, he turned to Lynette. “She’s reaching, Lynette. You can’t seriously believe her.”

But some part of her did, or at least doubted the falseness of the claim enough to worry her. Lynette let out a slow, shuddering breath as she met his eyes.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, shaking her head softly.

He grimaced angrily before he spoke, his words heated and careless. “The snobs at the ballet company will get over it.”

Her brow furrowed with anger as she eyed him indignantly, stunned that he could be so callous. “
I
am one of those snobs. The ballet is
everything
to me, Linc. I can’t lose that, not even for you.”

Betrayal hit him in one giant, monstrous wave, sinking in and burrowing under his skin. He glared at her, all heat and outrage, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Anger, disappointment, and misery mixed violently in his gut as he turned away, unable to look at her any longer.

“It’s best that you go.” His hands trembled as he fought back the worst of his temper, struggling to maintain control and finding it increasingly hard to do so. Grant stepped immediately to his side, placing a hand firmly on his shoulder. He eyed the Shaws coldly.

“Thank you for your donation, Senator. Enjoy your stay at the Waldorf,” he said dispassionately, coolly, closing the argument with a finality that could not have been reversed.

Senator Shaw nodded curtly, then wrapped his arm over his wife’s shoulders. Turning to his daughter, he reached out with his other arm. “Come along, Lynette. We’ll take you home.”

Lynette hesitated and glanced over at Linc, who still refused to look at her. A sinking feeling settled heavily in her stomach. She caught Grant watching her and the coldness of his gaze bothered her, as did the questioning, worried look on Quinn’s face, who still sat at the table, unable to do more than simply watch.

Feeling torn, confused and shaken, Lynette said nothing and went to her father, who began to lead her and his wife briskly from the ballroom. Before he could get more than a few steps, however, Charlene Vasser approached them, her cold blue eyes lit with icy disdain.

“I didn’t realize you had been invited, Carol,” Charlene said coolly, eyeing Lynette’s mother directly.

Carol bristled, more from an old, deeply rooted hatred than from insult.

“Charlene, how awful to see you,” she chimed falsely, her voice dripping with acid but maintaining an air of southern dignity. “Our daughter invited us. Or did you not know that she was dating your son?”

Charlene’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and she eyed Lynette with a critical glare, noting the humiliation and worry that lined the girl’s face as she stared diligently at her feet. Her gaze then shot behind the Shaws to her own children, where she spotted Linc and Grant watching her, both edgy and cautious. Making her own calculated assumptions, Charlene turned back to her old enemy and masterfully put on her most degrading smile. “Why don’t you get back to your plantation. I’m sure the cotton needs to be picked or some such thing.”

Outrage flashed over Carol Shaw’s face and her mouth opened to retort, only to have her husband step in and stop her.

“Not here, Carol,” he said in a low growl, his hand tightening on her shoulder as he eyed Charlene warily. “We were just leaving, Charlene. You just get on back to your party and we’ll get out of your hair.”

One eyebrow lifted in a dignified arch, Charlene crossed her arms and stared after her old rival as the Shaws left the room, taking their daughter with them. She waited until they had gone before turning to face her sons.

“Just what was all of that about?” she asked, eyes narrowing as she looked from Linc to Grant, demanding answers.

Both of them shrugged somewhat guiltily and eyed each other before turning back to face their mother.

Linc spoke first, feeling the need to take responsibility. “Just a friendly disagreement, nothing major.”

“That wasn’t what it looked like,” Charlene said quietly, keeping her voice down so the other guests wouldn’t notice. Fortunately, the entire altercation had gone off without much notice at all from the surrounding crowd. “Why didn’t you tell me you are dating the Shaws’ daughter, Linc? I would have encouraged you against it.”

With an indignant snort, Linc laughed darkly. “
Was
dating. Don’t know where we stand now. And besides, it’s not like I know everyone who you have beef with, mom. The list is pretty extensive.”

“Carol Shaw is just an old southern inbred wannabe,” Charlene spat. “I don’t know her daughter, but I can’t imagine the girl is much different.”

Rolling his eyes, Linc fought back the urge to defend the girl who had just walked out on him. He was still exhausted from the fight itself and the last thing he felt like doing was fighting some more. “What did she ever do to you, anyway?”

“She caught her husband flirting with me twenty years ago at a gala in Chicago,” Charlene informed him with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I didn’t return the advance, naturally, but Carol decided to smear my name by calling me a home wrecker anyway. Then her husband got deeper into politics and she had to give up the name calling in order to save her husband’s reputation. Pathetic.”

“Right.” Linc ran a hand through his hair tiredly, then turned to his brother, meeting his eyes as steadily as he could muster. His lips curved into a grin that was decidedly sharp around the edges. “I promise to be a good boy for the rest of the night, okay?”

Grant considered his brother silently, feeling sorry for him. He thought he understood just how hard it was for Linc to reign in his temper and not go after Lynette to finish the argument they had started.

Before he could respond, the sound of a microphone being carelessly flipped on stopped him. He turned to face the stage and his eyes hardened as he spotted his father, clearly drunk, microphone in hand and a jovial grin on his face.

“Everyone! Hello. I just wanted to say something, before this is over,” Win began, his eyes scanning the crowd lazily as he continued to smile. The entire ballroom settled into hushed silence as all eyes turned to him. He gestured to the crowd cheerfully with his drink and joyfully delivered his bombshell. “What you’ve all heard is true. My father murdered my grandfather.”

S
tunned silence hung like a heavy shroud over the entire ballroom. Win only continued to smile, his balance precarious as he teetered onstage, vodka sloshing lightly in his head.

Then, as quickly as the silence had fallen, the slow simmering rumble of voices started up again. The crowd buzzed with confusion, excitement and intrigue all in one massive wave.

Without wasting another second, Grant stalked to the stage and took the microphone from his father. He replaced it in its stand and led him from the stage. Quinn and Linc anxiously watched him go as he started for the ballroom doors, while Marshall and Charlene went to the stage together to try and smooth over the chaos that Win had started.

Marshall attempted a jovial laugh as he lifted the microphone, smiling out at the crowd cheerfully, shrugging his big shoulders.

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a lesson on why you don’t get drunk at a function,” he joked, earning a few laughs but barely making a dent in the chatter and gossiping happening amongst the guests. So he cleared his throat and tried again, his booming voice echoing throughout the room as he spoke. “Quiet down, please. Let me be clear, before this gets out of hand. My grandfather’s death fifty years ago was an unhappy accident, nothing more. There is absolutely no proof that it was anything otherwise. So please, let us not ruin our evening because of my brother’s delusions. Join me, if you will, in another toast to my sister-in-law, Charlene, your grand hostess for this evening.”

He continued on with Charlene beside him as Grant continued to pull his father briskly to the doors. The people they passed by stared curiously but Grant forced himself not to meet eyes with any of them. Instead, he pushed open the doors and dragged his father out into the hallway.

Madison was already there, her back to them as she stared out of the wide windows. The moment she heard the doors open she glanced over her shoulder and spotted them. Her eyes narrowed warily at the stone cold fury she saw on Grant’s face and the drunk grin on her father’s.

“What happened?” she asked immediately, strolling to her father and brother.

“Everyone’s so uptight.” Win laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t get it, it’s the truth and they’re all gonna find out soon anyways. What’s the problem with me saying it?”

Grant glared at his father disapprovingly. “We expressly told you not to.”

Just then, Linc, Jorja, and Wyatt emerged from the ballroom, shutting the doors behind them.

Because the urge to beat his father to a bloody pulp was violently strong, Linc shoved his clenched fists into his pockets and snarled instead. “Good job, dad. Nice going.”

“What did he say?” Madison demanded to know, staring from Grant to Linc.

“He told the truth,” Wyatt said suddenly, looking casual and misplaced in the background, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall, his expression both dangerous and disarming. “They were all eventually going to hear it.”

Madison stared at him for a long, silent moment, her face carefully void of the rioting emotions stirring violently within her, ones expressly directed at him. How dare he get involved? How dare he even show his goddamn face when this was
her
family,
her
problem?