Page 57 of Love and Lies

“I don’t need you to apologize; I need a solution to the problem.” My mother activated the laser stare I’d been expecting in the elevator. When Blake Weston was unhappy with something, it was best to fix the issue, stat.

“But I can’t reorganize the seating plan,” the staff member replied, somewhat desperately. “It’s all been precisely coordinated, and most of the guests have already arrived and seen where they’re sitting. It’ll be total chaos if I change it now.”

“I don’t give a damn. Switch out two of the guests, or we will leave the event immediately. I won’t have my daughter sitting at the same table as that person.”

Wait a second. This was about me? I left Lincoln and Paige where they were and went over.

“Hey, Mom. What’s the problem?” I smiled kindly at the employee to let her know not every Weston was out for blood. She returned it weakly, and my mother’s expression grew even darker.

“I’ll sort it out, darling.”

But I wasn’t about to let it go. “It’s obviously something to do with me, so I want to know what’s going on. Maybe I can help make it go away.”

“We’ve put you at a table with some of the other younger, unaccompanied guests tonight, Miss Weston,” the hotel staff informed me with a frightened look.

“That doesn’t sound like a problem to me,” I said. I’d refused, in the end, to bring one of the guys my parents had selected for the role. I might have to dance to their tune if I wanted to stay in New York, but they wouldn’t go so far as to force me into a date. Not yet, at least.

My mother gave a little snort. “It isn’t, save for the fact that Jessiah Coldwell is also seated at that table. How could you make such a faux pas; don’t you know anything about the important families in this city?” This was aimed at the Mirage employee, who was apologizing again now, but I hadn’t heard a word. Jess was here? My stomach flipped. I knew he went to events with his mother sometimes, but I didn’t think he’d come to this kind of thing. I looked around discreetly, but either I couldn’t see him, or he hadn’t arrived yet. I turned back to the employee.

“There’s no need to mess up the seating plan,” I heard myself say. “I don’t have a problem sitting at the same table as Jessiah.” It’s not the first time, after all, I added silently, thinking about how he had hugged me goodbye at Bella Ciao a week ago. And caressed my cheek in the dark of the kitchen. The flutter in my belly melted into a burning heat somewhere deeper. If my mother knew about that night, I wouldn’t be here right now; I’d be back in Cambridge. Still, I couldn’t just switch off my excitement at finally seeing Jess again. I could only do my best to hide it.

The Mirage employee gave a sigh of relief. “Thank you for your understanding, Miss Weston.” Then she vanished on the spot, no doubt afraid my mother would have something more to say.

“Helena, please.” She turned her ire to me instead. “All of New York society is gathered here tonight. What will they think—you and Trish Coldwell’s son sharing a table?”

“No idea, Mom. Probably something like ‘Oh, that must be the singles’ table’?” I turned to face her. “Why is this such a big deal? You’ve been going to the same functions as the Coldwells for years.”

Yes, but not with you, the look on her face seemed to say. I narrowed my eyes. “What are you afraid of? That I’ll stab him with the butter knife and cause a scene?”

“That’s the least of my worries,” she said dryly.

“What, then? Oh… I get it.” I couldn’t help grinning. “This is about his past reputation, right?”

She pursed her lips and made no reply. “If you hadn’t turned down Edward, we wouldn’t have had any of this trouble.”

“You’re the one making trouble,” I reminded her. “But you can relax, Mom. Jessiah and I will get through dinner without ravaging each other. And if we should feel the need, we’ll be discreet—we’ll find somewhere quiet; no one will ever know.” I was taking pains to make the whole thing sound as absurd as possible, but the images in my head were realistic enough. I quickly tried to think of something else to stop the heat rising to my cheeks.

My mother jutted her chin and fixed me with dark eyes. “That’s not funny, Helena.”

“Yes, it is. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to my table.” I gave the tiniest curtsy, feeling a little childish as I walked away—but also anxious. Ten minutes ago, the only reason I was interested in being here was Carter Fields. Now things had changed.

The reason why walked through the door not long after I got to my table and greeted my fellow guests. Among them was Celia Woodraw, daughter of the CEO of Bloomingdale’s. I’d known her half my life, even if only fleetingly—she was a total gossip. I’d just said hello when she looked to the door, her eyes wide.

“There’s Jessiah Coldwell,” she murmured.

I followed her gaze.

He looked better than should ever be allowed, of course—although he was in a suit, and I usually preferred his casual look. But the dark two-piece he was wearing was a perfect fit, and his black shirt and tie gave off just that hint of extravagance that suited him outrageously well in this kind of setting, especially with his messy blond hair. Dad was talking to Mom and the Irvines just then, and since my parents were otherwise engaged, I allowed myself a tiny smile as our eyes met. His response was subtle but immediate, with a glint in his eye that was enough to make my knees go weak.

As Jess approached me—or, rather, approached the table—I had to force myself to breathe normally and pretend we hardly knew each other. In any event, he greeted everyone else first. Then he turned to me.

“Helena.” He gave me a nod. To the casual observer, it might have seemed distant, but that expression in his eyes was still there, as was the ache unfurling in my stomach. My mother had just noticed the new arrival at my table, though, so I couldn’t give anything away that would betray how I really felt.

“Jessiah.” I returned the nod—playing it cool, and somehow managing to pull it off. It wasn’t just my family’s eyes on us right now, everyone else in the room was looking at us as well. Clearly, the first public meeting between Valerie’s sister and Adam’s brother was an event for the voyeuristic mob. I knew they were all eager to see which of their predictions would come true. Would we go for each other’s throats, or follow in our siblings’ footsteps?

For the moment, we did neither. Jess took his place at the round eight-seater table, and since we hadn’t been placed next to each other—or my mother really would have gone on the warpath—he was soon out of range.

I took my seat too, so focused on Jess that I almost missed the fact that Carter Fields had entered the room. He was accompanied by a pretty, dark-haired girl and looked just as I remembered, even three years later: extremely self-confident and hyperaware of his social standing. For now, though, I had to sit tight on my plan and wait until I had him alone.