Built for Power (11 page)

“Sometimes life just gets in the way of what could have been. Goodbye, Logan. I’m a better person for having known you.”

Bree turned and disappeared behind the wall of men. Logan stood staring after her as she picked up a hammer and disappeared inside the building.

Bree swung hard and drove the nail into the wall. Sweat trickled down her back and her ivory silk shirt stuck to her as she grabbed another nail. Her black dress pants were covered in dirt and dust as she worked with her men. The anger, hurt, and disappointment of what might have been was worked out with every swing of the hammer.

The men hadn’t said a word when she picked up the hammer and started working. They all seemed to know better. Time passed quickly, and she pretended to not notice that Logan would be in New York by now.

A slow whistle filled the air and everyone glanced behind them. “When I heard you were hammering with the men, this is not what I pictured.”

Bree felt a smile tug on her lips. Shirley was in Big Al’s arms and clearly enjoying it. “What are you doing, Shirley?”

“It’s almost time for the bachelorette party, and I’m your designated driver. Thank goodness your mom sent an extra set of clothes.” Shirley held up a micro mini skirt and a shirt that would barely cover her breasts. The men around her turned red and suddenly all had to cough or clear their throats.

“My
mother
sent that?”

“Heavens no. Your mother sent some awful business suit. I left it at the office, but it was a good idea, so I stopped and picked this up for you.”

Bree just laughed. She laughed because it was all she could do not to cry. “Okay, Shirley. I put myself in your capable hands.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

What the hell had she been thinking when she trusted Shirley? Bree looked at herself in the mirror with wide unbelieving eyes as Shirley stood behind her smiling. The skirt barely covered her butt. The scarf-like top tied around her neck and had flowing ruffles that covered her breasts . . . barely. Her midriff was left exposed and her legs were on display in bright-red spiked heels.

“I look like a hooker.”

“But a very expensive hooker,” Shirley said happily. “Now let’s go hook some men!”

Shirley held open the door to the restroom in the club and pushed her out. Shirley had reserved the VIP area of the most exclusive dance club in Atlanta. Bree’s mother had protested, Allegra and Cousin Mary had loved it, and Elle was resigned to her fate.

“You look amazing!” Allegra squealed.

“She looks like a trollop!” Margaret screeched in dismay.

“Wow, Bree. You were always a tomboy. Who knew you had boobs?” Mallory grinned as she entered the VIP area in tight leather pants and a red lace tank top.

“Yeah, you’re going to have to beat the men back with Elle’s stilettos,” Mary teased as she pointed to the super-sexy shoes Elle had already kicked off.

Everyone stopped talking when one of the hottest men they had ever seen walked up to their group and smiled. Shirley cursed under her breath, her mother fanned herself, Allegra giggled, Mary’s mouth fell open, and Elle started to fidget with her engagement ring.

“Hi. I’m Aiden and I noticed you when you walked in. Would you like to dance?” Bree looked around and all the women except Elle were nodding their heads. Was he talking to her?

“Aren’t you a looker? I bet I could wash clothes on your stomach,” Shirley said as she whistled.

Aiden’s eyes twinkled with amusement and he stepped over to Shirley and Bree. “If this lady agrees to dance with me, I’ll show you,” he whispered to Shirley.

Bree felt a hand to her back and was pushed forward into Aiden’s arms. “She’s all yours, sonny.”

Bree tried to scramble back in mortification, but she felt Aiden’s amused laughter as he held her to his chest. With a wink, he lifted up his tight V-neck shirt. She heard a gasp and looked down at the most chiseled abs she’d ever seen. She could bounce a quarter off that! Bree was pretty sure her mother collapsed in a fit of vapors while Shirley snapped a picture.

Bree was still staring when she felt him lead her to the dance floor. He was totally different from Logan. While they were both about the same height, Logan was more natural in his body. Aiden seemed to be made from the minds of a plastic surgeon and physical trainer. When she looked up at his perfect, blinding white teeth, even tan, and complete lack of wrinkles, she felt he wasn’t real. Somehow his personality, while nice, seemed to be the same.

On the other hand, Logan was genuine. He flattered her because he liked to see her roll her eyes. But he also told it like it was. Logan’s six pack and legs showed him to be the athlete that he was. And when he smiled, his eyes crinkled in the sexiest way. As Bree looked at Aiden, she didn’t think anything could crinkle, wrinkle, or move on his face. She saw her reflection in his completely chemically smoothed forehead.

“It’s such a relief to find you here tonight. I didn’t know the agency had sent someone else and the thought of handling this crowd by myself is daunting,” Aiden told her as his body fell into the rhythm of the dance.

“Sent me here?” Bree asked. Handle what crowd? Bree looked around at the filling nightclub. Sure, there were a lot of young men and women filling the place, but what was there to handle?

“Yeah, for the party. I thought Barry was my backup. But who knows, they could swing both ways.” Aiden shrugged as his hand went down to squeeze her bottom. “Nice. We can definitely work with that.”

Bree stopped dancing and stepped away. “I’m confused. Work with what and for whom?”

“The old lady up there. She hired two escorts for the bachelorette party. You’re with Elite Elegance, aren’t you?”

“Oh my God. You think I’m an escort?” Bree gasped and pulled her skirt down as far as she could.

“Aren’t you?” Aiden asked, confused.

“I’m the bride’s sister,” Bree said before mumbling, “Shirley was right.”

“Eww, sorry. You’re really smokin’ hot, though. You could make some serious bills with Elite.”

Strangely, this brought a smile to Bree’s face. She worked so hard to be sexless that it was nice to be appreciated as a woman. “Thanks, Aiden. I’m doing pretty well at my job now, but I’ll keep it in mind if the company ever folds.”

“You should. Here’s my card.”

Bree took it and slid it into her bra. Oh God, she really did look like an escort.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Aiden asked as he pulled her back into the dance.

“What makes you think anything is going on?” Bree tried to sound nonchalant, but by the way Aiden tried to move his eyebrow, she could tell she wasn’t fooling anyone.

“I’m a stranger that you’ll never see again. I only know your name is Bree. Take this moment to spill your guts with no judgment.”

Bree let out a long breath. Why not? He already thought she was an escort. Could he really think any worse of her? “I met this guy.”

“Shouldn’t you be happy?”

“He was here only for a couple weeks. I feel like a ninny for liking him so much. Then he had to leave and go back home. I broke it off completely. No texts, no phone calls, no long-distance relationship, and now I feel . . . empty.”

Aiden tried to frown, but it came out looking like duck lips. “That’s tough. I have just one question. Why didn’t you fight for it?”

Bree stopped dancing as Aiden gently stroked her arm in a calming manner. “I was scared,” Bree admitted on a whisper.

“You strike me as a woman who doesn’t run from something that scares her. Somehow I see you beating it into submission. So why run now?”

Bree looked up at Aiden’s smooth face and almost crumbled. “I ruined it. I finally found someone and I ruined it.”

“Shhh. If it’s love, then it doesn’t just disappear. Now you just need to fight for it. And I’d place my money on you.” Aiden looked up at the door and then gave her a squeeze.

“And there’s Barry now. I’ll be happy to escort you home later tonight, “Aiden tried to wink before waving Barry down.

“Thank you for listening, but I think I need a drink.” Bree didn’t feel any better as she headed to the bar before hiding behind her mother and watching Aiden and Barry make a Mary sandwich.

Elle and Mallory pulled to a stop in front of Bree’s house and looked at the new window. They were all in a state of shock. The image of Shirley, Aiden, and Barry . . . it was all too much.

“Well,” Elle started. “That was certainly . . . memorable.”

Bree snorted and Mallory tried to fight the laughter causing her shoulders to shake uncontrollably. “Memorable is one way to put it,” Bree said as she almost fell out of the door.

“Hey, why don’t you come home with me tonight? I don’t like the idea of you staying here by yourself,” Elle said, quickly changing to big sister mode.

“I’m fine.” Bree waved her off before tripping on the curb and taking a facer into the azalea bushes. She felt hands grabbing at her before she was pulled from the attacking bush. “Maybe staying at your house wouldn’t be such a bad idea,” Bree conceded before being tucked back into the car.

“Does this sudden desire to drink enough vodka to drown a horse have anything to do with a certain man leaving for London?” Mallory asked as she pulled away from the curb and headed to Elle’s house.

“Nah. It has to do with being mistaken for an escort . . . and a certain guy heading to London in a couple hours,” Bree ended quietly. It was supposed to be a fun night. She didn’t want to think about her heart breaking.

Elle wrapped her arm around Bree’s shoulder. “Does it hurt?”

Bree just nodded. Cosmo-flavored tears slowly fell from her eyes. “It shouldn’t hurt this badly. I’ve only known him a couple weeks.”

“Love doesn’t follow a time frame, Bree.”

“I don’t.” Hiccup. “Love him.” Hiccup.

“You used to be such an accomplished liar,” Elle tried to tease.

Bree felt the tears coming faster as she laid her head on her sister’s shoulder. “I tried not to fall in love. I really did. I even knew he was going to leave. But, some part of me hoped he wouldn’t and that’s the part of me who’s broken-hearted.”

“You didn’t have to sever all ties, you know. Take the plane and visit him,” Mallory encouraged.

“No.” Bree shook her head. “If I see him, he’ll be perfect. Nice, funny, pushy, supportive, sexy, and I’ll want him even more. It’s better to cut it off cold turkey. The pain of a broken heart will heal eventually.”

“Then we won’t talk about him anymore. Unless you bring it up,” Elle added quickly.

Bree shook her head. As Elle led her to the guest room, she tried to think of anything other than the man who had flown to London with her heart.

* * *

Logan set his bags down in his flat and looked around for the first time in a month. It was strange being back. And suddenly this place that had been his sanctuary for the past ten years didn’t seem like home anymore.

He’d managed to get the work in New York done even with his mind stuck on Bree. The feeling of having made a colossal mistake weighed him down as he collapsed onto his couch. Was this worth it? He looked around at his luxury flat and his bags sitting at his feet. His job at Clarke Group was what he’d worked hard to achieve. But the pride he had in his position was gone. Maybe it was just because it was so late at night and he’d been traveling all day. Or maybe it was because his priorities had changed since the last time he was home.

Logan picked up his cell phone and scrolled to Bree’s number. It was Sunday night in London, so only Sunday afternoon in Atlanta. He could call to see how the bachelorette party went. No, Bree made it clear she didn’t want to talk to him. Instead, he scrolled down and hit the Call button.

“Hello, sweetheart. How’s my favorite lady doing this morning?”

“I would be doing better if you’d called sooner.”

“Sorry. I just got home. How’s everything going? I’ve missed you.”

“I just bet you have. I must admit I’ve missed those sweet buns of yours, too.”

Logan laughed. “It’s really good to hear your voice.”

“It would be better if you were here in person.”

Logan picked up on the hint and sighed. “I wish I were, Shirley. How is Bree?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“You can’t come in here, Mr. Henderson!”

Bree looked up from the paperwork on her desk as Noah tried to block Jeff from pushing his way into her office. What a fabulous way to start this Monday morning.

Bree set her pen down and kept her eyes on Jeff. He was breathing hard and his normally calm face was red. “What the hell do you think you’re doing stealing my workers?”

“I didn’t steal them. I just made them a better offer. That’s business, isn’t it?” Bree crossed her legs and sat back in her black leather chair.

“Dirty business!” Jeff slammed his hands on her desk and glared.

Bree shrugged. “I learned it from you. And, Jeff,” Bree leaned forward keeping her eyes on his, “it’s not nearly as bad as you trying to kill me.”

“You’re going to regret this,” Jeff hissed.

Bree just smiled. “Somehow I don’t think so. You may be able to pay off the local police, but you forget I have friends, too.”

This time Jeff didn’t try to deny it. He didn’t try to bullshit her. He didn’t try to smile his way out of it. But he also didn’t admit anything. Instead he took a deep breath and pushed back away from her desk.

“You’re out of your league, darlin’.” With a slow smile that sent chills down Bree’s back, Jeff turned around and walked out of her office.

She heard Jeff curse and then a
thump
as the floor shook. Bree leaned so she could see out the door and saw Shirley slowly make her way by on her walker. She looked at Bree and winked. Bree fell back against her chair and found her hands shaking but a smile on her face. Shirley had tripped the bastard with her walker.

Jeff still hadn’t given her any evidence to use against him. However, it also didn’t appear he was trying to deny any involvement either. If only Damien’s FBI contact could take over the investigation, then she’d feel safer. Bree picked up her phone and dialed an extension. “Hi, Mary. Will you look into all the charity events Mr. Westin is attending and bring them to me, please?”

* * *

“Mallory, it will be perfect,” Bree said for the hundredth time. “I won’t say a thing to him about you.”

Mallory held the fancy gold-encrusted envelope in her hand and refused to let it go. “No.”

It had occurred to Bree that Jeff was the big fish in the pond of Atlanta. What she needed to get him rattled was a bigger fish in a bigger pond. When Mary dropped the society page of that morning’s paper on her desk and smiled, Bree had her answer. Pictures were worth a thousand words. And on the front of the society page was none other than Georgia's U.S. senator, Claudel Westin. Bree knew him as Mallory’s father.

“Please. He’ll be at the Charity for the Arts ball tonight. All I need is a couple pictures with him. I don’t even have to tell him who I am,” Bree begged.

“Can’t you get your own invitation? Lord knows you have enough money,” Mallory complained.

“I do, but this is an old society event. The Simpsons, no matter how much money we have now, are not old society. I was not a debutante. I was not launched into society. I do not move in those circles. Which is why I need your invitation.”

Mallory may not act like it when she carries her gun at her back and her knife in her sexy boot, but those were her grandmother’s pearls around her neck. She also had the Westin name and, in Georgia, that meant something. It meant her great-great-great-granddaddy had been one of the first governors of Georgia. It meant her great-great-great-grandmother was a founding member of the Daughters of the South. It meant her great-great-grandmother had welcomed the King of England to their plantation because he’d enjoyed their peaches so much. It meant that her great-grandfather was a war hero who brought pride to the state for his heroics, and it meant her grandfather and father had both served in politics. Her grandfather had been an ambassador and her father was a career politician, having been in the U.S. Senate for the past twenty-five years and counting. And it meant Mallory received an invitation to every single society event in the entire state of Georgia. To have a Westin at your event improved things instantly. But it was also Mallory, which meant she was never the Westin at any of the society events.

“To even use this invitation will only encourage them to send me more,” Mallory complained as she reluctantly passed it over to Bree.

“You’ll be buried in them tomorrow, but it will be worth it when my picture is on the front page of the paper with our state's beloved senator. Jeff will have to think twice about all the contacts he has.” Bree took the invitation and looked at the perfect script.

“Hmm. We’ll see how this goes. But don’t you dare tell my daddy what I’ve been doing, or who I've been dating, or anything!”

“I won’t, but why not?”

Mallory just waved the question away. “The better question is: do you have a gown? This is a full society shindig and the bigger the better—hair, jewels, and dresses—there is no such thing as too big.”

Mallory grabbed Bree’s hand and they disappeared into the depths of Mallory’s spare room closet.

* * *

Bree flipped the train to the dark blue, strapless satin gown behind her. She’d applied dark eye shadow mixed with deep blues to match the dress and her eyes. Her strawberry blonde hair hung straight down her back after being slicked back against her temples and teased up on top. Overall, it was a very dramatic effect.

She walked up the stairs and handed the invitation to one of the tuxedoed men at the door before going inside. Photos were snapped as people danced and talked around her. Bree kept an eye out for Senator Westin’s silver hair as she circled the room.

With a smile, she grabbed a glass of champagne and headed for her target. She found him talking to this evening’s host and hostess with an army of reporters documenting every second. She was going to slip over there, give him a quick hug that would be documented by the papers, and then casually suggest to one of her friends who happens to run one of the Atlanta papers that she should put this picture on the front page. Easy-peasy.

Bree grabbed an extra glass of champagne and walked to the senator’s side. “Here’s the champagne you wanted, sir. I have to say, it’s wonderful seeing you again.” Bree leaned forward and kissed each of his slightly wrinkled cheeks as the cameras flashed.

Senator Westin automatically complied with the greeting and kissed her cheek as well. He took the glass of champagne and thanked her. Bree had to admit she was curious. She hadn’t seen Mallory’s father in, well, ever. Mallory never invited anyone to her childhood home. Elle had gone once and said the plantation was beautiful, but nothing more. Then it just seemed Mallory had become a mainstay at the Simpson house. Being a young teenager, Bree never thought anything of it. Which is why she was surprised when Senator Westin took the glass of champagne out of her hand and handed it to an aide.

“Miss Bree Simpson. I’ve been waiting for the dance you promised me,” he said loud enough for the reporters and gossips hanging around to hear.

Bree almost dug in her silver Prada heels, but instead she plastered on her best happy face and let the senator escort her onto the dance floor.

“It’s always nice to meet one of my daughter’s friends. Is Mallory here with you tonight?” Bree looked at Mallory’s father. He was in his late fifties but carried the years very well. The senator wasn’t like most of the men in Washington. He rode horses, shot guns, and ran every morning. The easy way he glided Bree around the floor also told her he hadn’t forgotten his mandatory childhood dance lessons.

“No, she’s not, and how do you know who I am?”

Senator Westin chuckled. “I’m on the intelligence committee. I’m not blind. Do you not think a father would keep tabs on the girl his daughter practically lived with when she was younger?”

“I got the impression you didn’t care what Mallory did.”

“Of course I care. She’s a Westin. She’s
the
Westin heiress. Not that you would ever understand societal pressures.”

Bree laughed as if she hadn’t just received a polite jab to her social standing. “You’re right. Thank goodness. I spend my spare time picking lint out of my bellybutton. I’m surprised I can even dance my way across the floor, which you do quite wonderfully.”

“Very nicely played, Miss Simpson. Is my daughter still dating that boring Secret Service agent? At least he’s a step up from the state trooper,” Senator Westin said as he tried to hide his distaste.

“I’m sorry. My sister is closer to Mallory than I am. I don’t have all the details of her life. It may seem like a crazy idea, but if you want to know, why not just ask Mallory?” Bree executed a small curtsey as the song ended and with one last smile walked away from the senator.

“I would if she’d talk to me,” was the last thing she heard from the senator before the music started again.

* * *

Logan stared at his bags sitting at the foot of his bed. He’d been home for two days and couldn’t bring himself to unpack. He couldn’t do a lot of things, actually. He wasn’t sleeping much, which was why he was still awake in the early morning hours. He couldn’t put down his phone, which was why it was still in his hands. And he couldn’t focus on work, which was why he had taken the rest of the week off.

Work had been a disaster. He’d made a bunch of calls and caught up on his emails but didn’t remember a second of it. Instead, he’d been thinking about Bree and thinking of the house he’d design for them.

Logan had thought about the bedroom they’d share, the nursery their children would occupy just down the hall, and his home office connected by French doors to Bree’s matching office. It all seemed right. So he had started sketching. And when he finished the sketch, the workday was over. He’d called his boss and told him he must have caught something in the States and needed the week to recover.

When he made it home he’d started picturing the houses of happy couples, houses, and relationships he wished he had with Bree. He picked up his sketchbook and started drawing. The ideas flowed. The excitement of building a house for someone to love and experience life in filled him with a nervous happiness. This is what he should be doing. This is what had been missing from his life—Bree and the ability to design what he wanted to. Houses that spoke of love, commitment, and growth—houses that were the true heart of a family. Just as Bree was for him.

He worked all night sketching. It was why he was still up at five in the morning when his phone rang.