WOULD-BE CHRISTMAS WEDDING (12 page)

Chapter Twelve

Plaza Hotel, 7:35 p.m.

From across the balcony, Holt watched Cecelia navigate the sparkling rainbow of expensive gowns anchored by tailored and rented tuxedos. Most of the men had worn classic black tie, but a few had chosen more festive touches of holiday color in honor of the season.

Holt wasn’t one of them. He’d been honest with her about that. He didn’t do holidays, had never had a reason to. In her red tulle ball gown with its jeweled waist she was as untouchable as ever; still, his hands itched to do so.

He only had to keep himself under control for one more night. Then it would be over, one way or another.

With a flute of champagne in his hand, he exchanged pleasantries with people who only assumed they knew him, and wondered if he’d been foolish to attempt this alone. Cecelia had been right about one thing. He was exhausted from maintaining surveillance to assure her safety, searching her history for common ground and keeping up appearances at his real job. It would all be worth it if he could get her out of here alive and stop Isely.

The large crowd, even bigger than he’d expected, shifted and flexed, blocking his view of her again. He hustled up the staircase to take a better position. There was a younger blonde glued to her side. The daughter. At least Cecelia was guarded well. Even without the benefit of the research photos he’d studied, their resemblance was uncanny. And while he hadn’t spotted Director Casey specifically, Holt knew he’d have several people in place.

Now he just had to dance between the sharp blades of Isely’s revenge and the director’s protective nature. Preferably without getting sliced to ribbons in the process.

Since Isely’s first warning, Holt had searched through every detail about Cecelia’s life. Nothing he’d turned up indicated any reason to worry about her endangering Isely’s ultimate revenge plot against Thomas.

Today, as he’d put his escape plan and backup options in place, he dug deeper still and hadn’t found the thing that explained Isely’s uncharacteristic impatience. He’d searched headlines and found no change in current events. He’d poured through obituary columns and death notices and come up empty.

The widow had no field experience, and though the CIA employed her, it was in a legitimate, low-key administration post. She’d only recently returned to that post after taking four months’ leave to care for her husband during his losing battle with brain cancer.

She hadn’t been close enough to the agency to even catch a rumor that might assist or harm the German crime lord, and yet Holt couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

What did Isely know about the woman that had him so focused on her?

It remained the unanswered question, so Holt turned his mind to what he did know: Isely. The man was smart. Devious. Determined beyond reason to destroy Thomas Casey. As the sister, Cecelia had obvious value as leverage to cause pain. People were mere tools to a man like him.

Thank God there weren’t too many men like Isely in the world. Of course, in Holt’s line of work he saw more than his fair share of them.

A man with a booming voice announced the orchestra was ready, and three wide ballroom doors opened on cue.

He watched the crowd flow through them, Cecelia and her daughter standing at the center greeting donors with gracious smiles. Other people important to the charity foundation did the same at the other two doors, but Holt decided he’d wasted enough time.

Setting his champagne aside, he returned to the ballroom level and gave Casey a cursory nod as he greeted Cecelia. Immediately the daughter went on alert, but Cecelia’s perfect society smile didn’t so much as flicker.

He didn’t know whether he should be pleased or insulted.

“So glad you’ve arrived, Mr. Holt,” she said. With a quiet word to her daughter, she slipped her arm through his. “Let me show you to your table.”

This was unexpected. “That’s really not necessary. I just wanted you to know I was here.”

“I knew.” Her smile remained, but her blue eyes showed clear relief.

“What happened?” He’d had his phone on all day. His random yet frequent checks of her safety had indicated nothing untoward had occurred. “You didn’t call.”

“There was no need. This way.”

She guided him through the sea of round tables set for ten and he took stock of the setup, comparing the final arrangement to the plans he’d read in her suite last night. At the far end of the room, on the other side of the wide dance floor, the long head table perched on a riser. A podium stood ready at the center of the head table, a small orchestra to one side and what appeared to be a DJ’s table on the other.

Two walls of the ballroom were lined with long tables draped in snow-white linen and decorated with Christmas colors. Silent auction items were laid out with suggested starting bids on each paper. Four bar stations were prepped, but currently closed.

His concern grew with every step she took closer to that head table. He’d known his donation would get her attention, but being front and center was more publicity than he wanted. Dining with half of the moneyed elite of Alexandria and Washington, D.C., wasn’t his idea of discreet. Would nothing go right in this last stage of his plans?

Alarms went off in his head when a familiar couple entered through a side door. Lucas Camp and his wife, Victoria Colby-Camp, strolled in, Lucas’s limp barely evident this evening. They approached the round table closest to the dance floor and were soon joined by Thomas Casey and Cecelia’s daughter, along with her husband, Levi.

He’d known about the connection. Cecelia considered Camp a dear friend. The man was Casey’s godfather. But of all the friends she might have in attendance, this one man, working with or without Thomas, could ruin everything.

It was increasingly clear Holt was going down in flames tonight. He’d been prepared for that. But he could not let any of them get in the way of his keeping Cecelia safe.

Still, of all the contingency plans he’d made, this was one he hadn’t anticipated. He started crafting an excuse to leave, knowing he could duck back in and take her later, but she led him straight up to a place at the end of the head table. Next to a place card with her name.

What the hell?

As the event organizer, shouldn’t she be closer to the podium? Relieved as he was not to be seated with Camp, he had to wonder what game she was playing.

“This isn’t necessary.”

“Of course it is,” she countered. “You singlehandedly lifted us to our pre-event goal and your gift will inspire others in the room to follow your example and give generously.”

“I can’t.”

“You must.” She lowered her voice, but there would be no argument. “Anything less would be an insult.” She squeezed his arm. “Stop scowling. Besides, I need you.”

That declaration hadn’t been easy for her. He nodded. Something had rattled her today and she wanted him to help her cope. Why hadn’t she called him? As often as he’d checked in on her, how the hell had anything significant happened? Wouldn’t her daughter have sounded an alert? Casey had been with her mother the entirety of the day.

The way Cecelia looked at him, waiting for his answer, a surge of protectiveness shot through him, and he patted her hand, warming her cold fingers. “I’m here.”

“Thank you.” She nodded toward others finding seats at the other end of the long table. “Let me introduce you.”

“I look forward to it,” he lied with an easy smile.

He could feel Camp’s eyes boring into his back and the urge to turn around or roll his shoulders was overwhelming. He resisted, thanks to the years of practice at controlling or denying his physical responses for the sake of the job at hand.

Bring on the overcooked chicken and speeches so he could retreat, he thought. With her. His instincts were prickling and he kept an eye on the shadows for any sign of Isely’s thugs or Thomas’s Specialists.

He supposed he should add Colby’s agents to the list of possible party crashers. Unfortunately, he hadn’t done his homework on them.

Well, there were worse things than winging it, and as soon as he had her out of this hotel, he’d have the advantage once more.

* * *

C
ECELIA
HAD
BEEN
more than a little relieved when Emmett had finally joined her at the door. She’d worried all day that somehow Isely had uncovered his betrayal and taken action.

Keeping the unexpected encounter with Isely to herself had been the right thing to do. That monster intended not only to destroy Thomas but also to destroy Emmett. She had to stop him. Neither her brother nor the man beside her would want her to act on her own instincts. After all, she had no real training to speak of. But she suspected that was the only way to help both of them.

She had to do this. Yet she was no fool. Her daughter had her back. Cecelia was reasonably sure she had half convinced Casey that Emmett really was trying to protect her.

He was far closer to being that white knight than he realized.

She’d known the moment he’d joined the cocktail reception. Something in the air changed when he was near, when she felt his gaze on her. It was a sensation she’d never thought to experience with anyone but William. While he had done his habitual reconnaissance, she’d been swamped by guilt. She barely knew Emmett, yet her feelings for him were so strong, so vivid.

Now that she was touching him, she never wanted to let go. She introduced him to the others who shared the head table. It was a wonder watching him show such charm and relaxed polish when she knew the rough edges and constant vigilance lurking underneath.

As everyone took their seats, her daughter came up behind the head table. “Mom?”

“Is there a problem?”

“No. We were just hoping you’d come say hi.” She tipped her head toward the table where Cecelia spotted Thomas glaring at Emmett.

“I’ll be over once the formalities are done.”

“Thanks,” Casey looked relieved. “Uncle Thomas is twitchy.”

“You can tell him I’m fine,” Cecelia said, smiling as her daughter walked away.

Emmett leaned close to her. “What was that about?”

“That would be my overprotective detail.” She patted his knee under the table, resisted the urge to leave her hand there. They weren’t lovers, no matter how much she wanted him. They were hardly partners, though it had felt that way when he’d been sharing information this morning. “I had to tell her a bit more about you.”

After the meeting in the café, Cecelia had been forced to give her daughter a detailed report of last night’s altercations with Isely’s men. It was the smart thing to do, if only so Casey could be better prepared for any more trouble.

She’d painted Emmett as the hero he’d been and Casey had been smart enough not to argue or imply her mother’s perception was warped by circumstance.

“I’ve asked Casey to run interference for us tonight, so they won’t hassle you. Much.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“She promised not to show them the picture.”

“The picture?” He set his fork down carefully and blotted his mouth. “From last night?”

She nodded.

“Dancing at the marina?”

“That’s the one.”

She’d tried leaving out last night’s more personal details until Casey had admitted getting a call from Heather. Even then, Cecelia tried to pin the girl’s claims on a drunken stupor, but Casey had pulled out her phone and shown her the picture of the kiss.

Cecelia had nearly asked for a copy, but made the better choice and asked if her brother had seen it. Casey’s denial had been sincere and full of concern, and nothing Cecelia said eased that worried look in her daughter’s eyes.

Her throat went dry now just thinking about the picture, remembering how alive—how absolutely exhilarated—she’d felt in that moment when he’d kissed her in the middle of a party they hadn’t been invited to.

“Nice effort, but it won’t help.” His eyes darted to the table in question. “They all know me.”

“Know whatever you’ve led them to believe, anyway.” She winked when he glared at her. “Let Casey handle them.”

“If you say so.”

“Lighten up. The salad isn’t so bad.” She took a bite and encouraged him to do the same. “It’s the chicken you’re likely to choke on.”

“You’re making chicken jokes. Why not just tell me about what happened while I was gone? Obviously something did.”

“Nothing too dreadful.”

“What exactly falls into that category?”

“We can discuss it later. I got the impression we’d have some time, just the two of us, this evening.”

His silence was enough confirmation. Not that she needed it. When Isely’s men grabbed her, she trusted him not to leave her with them for long. The idea had her shuddering inside. Having that monster touch her was enough to have her choking without a single bite of the chicken.

A waiter passed with a tray of champagne flutes, but Cecelia declined. Going tipsy on champagne wouldn’t help her get through what she knew was coming.

She’d ignored the speculative looks Thomas aimed her way through the speeches and awards. Had even tried provoking him a bit by holding Emmett’s hand in full view once she’d delivered her gratitude to everyone who’d supported the cause. Yes, she was moving on, personally and professionally, and it was time for the world to adjust.

William was no doubt giving her a standing ovation from the place good men like him went.

For the first time since she’d said a final goodbye to her husband, she truly felt as if she was where she was meant to be.

No one, not that evil man Isely or anyone else, was going to take this from her.

When the orchestra started up, Thomas wasted no time in claiming her for the first dance. She nearly laughed at the complete lack of subtlety when Casey and Levi and Lucas and Victoria flanked them on the dance floor.

“I told you to stay away from him,” Thomas said through a tight smile.

“In case you missed it, I’m a grown woman. I’ve had a husband and daughter and a whole life, Thomas.”

“This is different. He’s dangerous.”

“I think I like that about him,” she replied with shocking honesty. It was the rough edges under Emmett’s polish that made him so appealing. She’d been raised to expect certain manners and behaviors from the men in her social sphere. While he could fit in anywhere the job demanded, she liked the man he was when they were alone best of all.