My Secret Life. Lori Wilde
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and I’m sorry—” he shrugged “—that’s not me. Work always comes first.”
Tony stared at him, mouth dropping open in amazement. “So…you’ve never been in love.”
Liam shifted his weight, crossed his arms over his chest. “What makes you say that?”
“When a woman gets under your skin fully and completely, then you’ll willingly give up everything to be with her.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.” Tony nodded sagely, his ebony KISS wig bobbing about his shoulders.
“If that’s your definition of love, then I’m glad I’ve never been there.”
“It’s how I feel about Jess. She’s the most important thing in the world to me,” he said, an ardent expression on his face. “Nothing comes before her. Ever.”
“Not even your job as my VP?”
“Nope.” Tony shook his head.
“You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
“Still? Even after five years of marriage?”
“She fascinates me more each day. She’s my lover, my companion, my best friend.”
Liam snorted in disbelief. It was sad, but true. He’d never been in love, had never met any woman who fascinated him more than his work.
Although, he’d thought he was in love once, during his sophomore year in college, with Arianna Baxter, a high-society beauty. They’d been study partners, and he’d hoped for more but never had the courage to ask her out. Her family was so wealthy, and he was so poor. Then she’d invited him to a lavish sorority party and his hopes had soared. Except when he got there, he discovered the joke was on him. It was a “pauper party,” where the sorority sisters dared each other to bring the poorest, most socially unacceptable guy they could find. The kicker was that Arianna won first prize for bringing him.
“How come you keep staring at Mayor Delaney?” Tony asked.
“I’m thinking maybe I should go introduce myself to him.”
“He’ll just hit you up for a campaign contribution,” Tony remarked.
I’d love the chance to tell him where he could stick his request for money.
“He can ask. I don’t have to give it.”
Tony glanced over his shoulder at the mayor. “You’ve got your competition cut out for you, dude. Delancy’s surrounded.”
“Yeah, but I’ll figure it out. Get to schmoozing, Gregory. We’re here for the business contacts.”
“Actually, I came for the free food. Much as I love her, my Jess isn’t much of a cook.”
“So schmooze the buffet. I’ll catch up with you later,” Liam said, and then started across the crowded room, his glare beaded on the mayor.
The closer he got, the harder his heart thumped. This was the man who’d charmed Liam’s seventeen-year-old mother, bedded her, and then left her pregnant and heartbroken. He’d denied his paternity and waltzed glibly back to his wife. All the old resentment that had been seething in Liam since childhood fisted into a knot of pure hatred.
Revenge. The dish best served cold.
And he was about to dine.
Liam had the speech prepared. He had been practicing it over and over in his head for years. Waiting for the moment when his financial success eclipsed Finn Delancy’s. Waiting for the slam dunk. The one thing he’d never envisioned was giving his speech dressed as a pirate, but what the hell? It seemed fitting.
Every bigwig in Boston—not to mention a nice collection of reporters from the media—was in attendance at the party. His goal was to shame and embarrass the hell out of Delancy in the most public of forums.
And the Ladies League ball—the biggest charity event of the social season—definitely qualified. Determined to see this thing through, Liam reached for the document burning a hole in the back pocket of his black leather Jack Sparrow pants.
It was his birth certificate.
“Mayor Delancy,” Liam said and thrust himself through the circle of women surrounding his father.
Delancy swung his gaze around to fix on him. The man’s eyes were the same color of hazel as Liam’s own. They also shared the same jawline—strong, hard, resolute. “What can I do for you, son?”
Son.
The word hung in the air weighed with a meaning only Liam understood. But soon, very soon, Finn Delancy would understand it, as well, and so would his enamored constituents. What would they think of their illustrious leader then?
“For you,” Liam ground out, and thrust the folded birth certificate at Delancy. He had to clench his teeth to keep his emotions in check so that his hand wouldn’t tremble and give away his barely cloaked rage.
Delancy stared at him a moment, clearly confused. The celebutante at the mayor’s elbow tittered for no discernable reason. Liam stood there with the folded piece of paper held outstretched at arm’s length.
“Oh,” Delancy blinked. “Gotcha.”
The hell you do. I’m the one who’s got you.
Delancy reached in the front pocket of his cowboy vest. Going for his reading glasses? Liam guessed.
But the mayor did not extract a reading-glass case. Rather, he pulled out an expensive ballpoint pen and accepted the folded document.
“Turn around,” the mayor said.
“What?”
“Turn around?”
Liam was so surprised by the request he found himself complying and felt Delancy rest the birth certificate against his shoulder blade, using his back as a support while he scrawled something on the paper.
What the hell?
“Here you go,” Delancy said, proudly.
Liam turned back around, his shoulder tingling from the touch of the man he’d hated for more years than he could count. Delancy slapped the birth certificate into his palm as two burly bodyguards stepped forward.
“Mayor,” said bodyguard number one, “your limousine has arrived.”
“Excuse me.” Delancy flashed Liam an artificial smile. “I have another engagement.”
Bodyguard Number Two took the mayor by the elbow and led him away through the crowd. At the same time Bodyguard Number One gave his arm to the celebutante. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out with whom the mayor would be spending the rest of the evening.
Confused by what had just happened, Liam stared down at the folded birth certificate in his hand.
There, written in Delancy’s shaky scrawl were words that sent shame, anger, embarrassment and hatred shooting through Liam’s veins.
It’s always nice to meet a fan. Best wishes, Finn Delancy.
Liam’s lungs constricted, and he found it hard to breathe. His hand was trembling now from pure rage that no amount of teeth clenching could abate.
An autograph!
The low-life, egotistical, jackass had just autographed his illegitimate son’s birth certificate.
By the time Katie arrived at the Hightower mansion where this year’s Ladies League masquerade ball was being held, the crowd was at maximum capacity. Even in three-inch stilettos, she still had to stand on tiptoe to see above the costumed throng packed into the foyer and snaking out through the grand hallway.
Waiters