Everything But Perfect (14 page)

“I did not come by free will.”
She paused, taking a deep breath. “I was brought here under false pretenses.”

“By whom?” His head turned to
look for an imaginary person who dared make Cheyanne Ribbons do what she had no
desire doing. “No one is brought here, unless they know the LaBournes’. I’m
here by private invitation because of the University. Hate it, but such is
life.” He shrugged, proving his point. If the University said you had to go to functions
like this, then they were expecting a big, fat donation check at the end of
your services.

“Is that their last name?” she
interrupted, stuck on the fact Mitch hadn’t told her his friends last name.

Angel’s brow rose. “You’re at
their party and don’t know their name? Sweetheart, we need to get you out more
often.”

“Like I said…I don’t want to be
here. Can we go? You and me, together?”

“Where?”

“Anywhere that’s not here.”

“God, Cheyanne. You look awful. You’re
all jittery, red in the face. Ate something bad?”

“No. I haven’t eaten at all.”

“Drink too much?” He eyed the
glass in her hand, her first of the night.

“Angel, please? I’m not drunk, I
did not eat bad oysters. I just want to leave, so no more questions.” Cheyanne
set her glass on the bar.

Angel quickly reached for her
arm, drew her close and whispered in her ear. “Okay. No more questions. Let’s blow
this Popsicle stand, shall we? You look ready to pass out.”

“Thank you. You don’t know how
good it is to see you…and to know that you’re here. You don’t know how much I
need you right now.”

“Well, when I tell you my latest
news, you might not think it so good to see me.”

“Oh?”

“Not where anything can be
overheard,” he said slyly, glancing about.

Cheyanne nodded. “Yes, not here. Let’s
go.”

“What about whoever brought you
here?” he asked, checking her. “Won’t he wonder where you’ve gone?”

“He’s a big boy. I’m certain he
can find his own way home.”

Angel escorted her outside,
asking valet service to bring around a white Lexus. He helped her into the car,
and once inside, seeing Angel, hearing Angel, being able to touch Angel, Cheyanne
fell apart.

“Dear God, what brought this on?”
he asked, driving away from the
Castle
. His eyes were drawn to the
cascade of tears running down her face.

“Oh, God, Angel! You don’t know
how bad it’s been since coming back.”

“By the Niagara Falls down your
face, I can just imagine. Do tell.”

Cheyanne swiped at her tears, but
more just followed.

Angel returned his attention to
his driving, taking her straight to his hotel. Since Benghazi, he’d given up
his apartment. He escorted her to his room, swiped the key card, and then
allowed her to walk through first. The moment he closed the door, she fell
apart again.

Angel maneuvered her into his
embrace, holding on to her until she stopped hiccupping.

“I’m married,” she rushed out.

His head whipped back, but he did
not say anything, even though his eyes had grown to huge saucers.

“I had to come home to marry a
man I’d never met,” she said.

This time, he let her go, running
his hand through his hair. “I may need to sit down for this.”

“I may need to, too,” she said,
giving him a sweet, tear-filled yet impish grin.

“Jesus, Ribbons! That’s quite an
earful,” he said, dropping on the couch, setting his arm behind her head when
she sat next to him.

“Was this husband…” He looked as
if the word too painful to say, “—there tonight?”

She nodded then said, “Yes.”

“Fuck, Cheyanne!” he yelped,
sitting forward, putting his hands between his knees. “Then why the hell did
you leave the party with me? I’m dead…you know that, don’t you? I am dead in
the water.”

“I had to get out of there.
Besides, I have no clue where he is…For hours, he abandoned me, disappeared,
and then you came along. It was a gut reaction.”

“And now that you are here with
me, your gut is telling you something differently, isn’t it?”

She quickly looked away, but
Angel drew her back, setting his hand to her chin. “It’s me, Sweetheart. Don’t
hide from me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not hiding. I’m
confused.”

“About what?”

“Why I feel so guilty, all of a
sudden.”

“You’re a married woman, Cheyanne.
Married women are not to leave their husbands at a party, going home with
another man, unless having an affair she’s trying to hide.”

She snorted loudly, closing her
eyes. “And we both know I’d never do that!”

“Do we?” he suddenly said. “You
married a stranger. I’m not sure what you would do anymore.”

“Are you trying to say
something…without actually coming out and saying it?” she probed.

“Hell, yes! However, I’ll just
say it, so there is no confusion between us. How the hell could you do this to
me?”

“To you? What about to me? My
father blackmailed me into this marriage. I had to marry Mitch to save my
mother’s corporation from ruin.”

“Mitch, is it?” When she nodded,
he added, “What I’m hearing is you were sold off to the highest bidder.”

She nodded again, saying. “Yes.”

“Jesus!”

“Oh, it gets worse,” she said
determinedly.

Angel’s eyes widened again. “How
much worse can being sold into marriage be?”

Cheyanne had to look away. She
could no longer watch the hurt in Angel’s eyes, knowing he could have been her lover,
if only she had felt that way about him. What they had was a great friendship,
nothing more. It was going to kill him to know she’d given herself to
Mitch—body and soul.

It was going to
really
kill Angel to tell him she was falling for her husband, even when Mitch
treating her as if dirt most of the time.

“My marriage is for four months.
After that, I can leave, get back to my work, and have my life back.”

This lie wouldn’t hold up much
longer, the more he stared at her face.

“Your old life back? Sweetheart,
there is no ‘old life’. The dig site was shut down by the University last week.
It’s why I’m home. The Geology department cut off the funding, no reasons why.
We’re all home. It’s what I wanted to tell you earlier…until your marriage bomb
got dropped on my lap.”

“The dig site is shut down?” she
yelped. “How can that be? My father is in charge of the funding.”

“No shit,” he said rudely. “The
same father that sold you off to a man you don’t love?”

“Oh, my God!” Cheyanne jumped off
the couch. “Oh, my God!” she repeated. Her eyes whipped to his. “When did this
happen?”

“Um, Wednesday night, New York
time. Why?”

“Oh, my God!”

“What? You’re scaring me.”

“I got married Wednesday
afternoon. He cut off the funding only after I could no longer back out of it.
That fucking asshole!”

“Ass, he may be, but I’m out of
work, you’re married, and we can’t do a damn thing about it unless one of us
discovers another dig site.”

“Do you want to bet I can’t do
anything about it?” she said quickly.

Angel stood and reached for her.
“You can’t do anything, Cheyanne. The funding was cut. It’s over. We weren’t
finding anything of importance in Benghazi anyway, for four years. It’s time to
move on to another site.”

“No, it is not time to move it.
This is not over. Not by a long shot!” She grabbed her purse and moved to the
door. “I’m sorry, Angel. I have to leave.”

“But you just got here,” he
protested.

“I know, and now I need to
leave.”

“Fine. I’ll take you back to the
party.”

“No!”

Angel looked confused.

“I need to go home.”

“The Estate?”

“No. My new home.”

“Oh, Hell, no! I am not going
anywhere near the man you married and who you just left at a party. I like my
head exactly where it is—attached.”

“Then call me a cab, but I do
need to go home.”

Angel picked up the phone,
dialing the lobby to get a cab for her. While they waited, Cheyanne sat back
down, her head in her hands.

Angel touched her shoulder,
making her jump. Her eyes slowly reached his.

“You’ve fallen for him, haven’t
you?”

She shook her head vehemently.

“Don’t lie to an Angel,
Sweetheart,” he said laughingly, knowing it was a while since he had said this
to her.

“I can’t love him.” She shook her
head again, this time the mutiny kicking in. “I won’t! I won’t give Mitch
Lavede what he wants anymore.”

“Jesus Christ!” he yelped,
stepping back. “You’re Mrs. Lavede? Mitch Lavede’s wife?”

“Yes,” she said softly.

“Holy shit!”

“Why?”

“Holy shit!” he repeated, running
his hand through his hair. “I fucking stole Mitch Lavede’s wife from a fucking party.”

“Would you please stop saying
that? You’re scaring me.”

“You should be scared,” he
warned, his gaze locking on hers. “The man is the most powerful CEO in all of
New York. I’m scared now. So should you be. I’ve dealt with men like him, more
times than I cared to.”

“Don’t forget he has the Ribbons
money, too,” she added hotly, “making him even more powerful.”

“No. That makes him a fucking
God!” Angel said.

“Mitch Lavede is not a God,” she
said tersely. “Believe me. He may think he is, but he’s not.”

“Well, if not a God, then at
least a demi-God and you just pissed him off in a bad way.”

“How did I piss him off? If
anything…”

“You left him at a party!” Angel
interrupted. “Jesus, Cheyanne. You don’t leave Mitch Lavede at a party—ever!”

Chapter Fourteen

“Mitch, darling, where do you think
you’re going?” Georgiana inquired, reaching for his elbow.

Mitch turned, giving her a wry smile.
“I’m looking for my wife. Have you seen her?”

“She’s around, mingling. Come,
Heath has the gaming tables ready.” She was literally dragging him toward the
stairs.

“I should find Cheyanne first,”
he said, stopping the momentum.

“Are you going to be a bore all
night, Mitch?”

His brows rose. “A bore? When have
I ever been a bore?”

“Lots of times. You haven’t spent
one minute with me, and I’m getting jealous.”

Georgiana should be jealous.
She’d wanted him as a lover, he’d said ‘no’, and she hasn’t forgiven him for
it. In fact, she made it a point to tell him so, every chance she gets. Mitch
was waiting to hear it again tonight.

“I can’t believe you went behind
my back and married that frump,” she said rudely.

Mitch checked his smile. “Cheyanne
is not a frump.”

Had Cheyanne heard this comment,
she might have scratched out Georgiana’s eyes.

“No? Well, she’s not one of us,
is she?”

Mitch bit his tongue. Cheyanne
Ribbons Lavede was more woman than ten Georgiana’s combined. She had more class
in her pinky finger than Georgiana ever would, and much more sass. A wildcat he
intended to tame.

“She’s not one of us, because her
father is Joe Ribbons, Sweetheart,” he said.

“You fucking married Joe Ribbons’
daughter? Are you insane?”

“Yes, I married Joe’s daughter,”
he muttered, not liking the tone of her voice one bit. That, and it was a
little too loud for close quarters. “Is that a problem for you, Georgiana?” He
waited while she cleared her thoughts to civil.

“No. No problem. None at all,”
she said sweetly, making his stomach turn by the falsity. “It’s just that I
heard through the grapevine Ribbons is going belly up.”

“You heard wrong,” he said
firmly. “I know. The company is fine, even better, now that I control most of
its shares.”

“You?” Her eyes widened. “Do
tell.”

“This is a party, Georgiana. Not
a boardroom. I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Yes, well,” she whipped out.
“I’d rather you never kiss another then tell me about it.” She even shuddered
at the thought.

Mitch gently patted her arm.
“Where is this gaming table you mentioned?” trying to steer her away from more
talk about his marriage or company takeovers.

Her mood brightened quickly.
“Upstairs. I’ll take you there.”

“Sure you’re not taking a lamb to
slaughter?” he teased.

“Darling, if you’re a lamb, I’m
Mother Theresa,” she chuckled.

Mitch was quickly shown to the
room where most of the Big Boys were playing in. He stepped inside, heard the
usual good-natured groans, then sat at a table, his place held for him.

“Took you long enough to get up
here,” Heath acknowledged, shuffling the cards.

“I was looking for someone,” Mitch
said.

“A woman, no doubt,” a man Mitch
did not know spoke out.

“Yes, no doubt,” Mitch answered,
smiling.

“We can’t call him a player any
longer, boys,” Heath added, grinning at Mitch. “The man was taken off the
market last week.”

“Oh, really?” another asked. “How
did that happen? She knocked you unconscious then dragged you to the altar, and
when you awoke it was too late to run?”

“Something like that,” he
muttered, picking up his dealt hand, “but I believe it was the other way
around.”

“He married Ribbons’ youngest,”
Heath interjected.

“Joe Ribbons?” a man seated at
Mitch’s left said.

Mitch nodded.

“Good, then you’ll have plenty of
money to lose tonight.”

Mitch didn’t lose a dime, and by
the time he was ready to leave the party, he was fifty thousand dollars richer.

He found Georgiana near the door.
“Have you seen Cheyanne?”

She nodded, giving him a smile
that turned his blood cold. “She left hours ago. Some blonde guy. I think she
knew him.”

“Why the hell did you not tell me
hours ago?” His temper rose quickly. “I asked you.”

“You looked bored. I was just
saving you.”

“Saving me from what?” he said
sharply.

“From a huge mistake.”

Mitch glared down at Georgiana.
“Any mistake is my choice, not yours.”

“Don’t get mad at me. I’m not the
one who left the party with another man.”

“I’m not mad at you. I’m just
disappointed in you.”

His anger was at Cheyanne, not
Georgiana.

“Well, then that’s not my
problem, either. You disappointed me the moment you married that frump. How do
you think I felt when you introduced us? It was a kick in the gut, Mitch.” She
turned so quickly he did not have time to make a comment.

Mitch headed home, ready to kill.
How dare Cheyanne make him a fool by leaving with another man. He didn’t know
anyone with blonde hair, but he would soon find out.

****

Cheyanne moved past the hurt,
heading up to the penthouse apartment in a daze. Her father blackmailed her;
she gave up everything, just so he could go behind her back and ruin her
friend’s lives, too?

She stuck the key into the lock,
and when it was already open, her breath lodged in her throat.

Oh, God! Mitch is home
. She wasn’t ready to face him
yet.

The door swung open smoothly,
mocking her trepidation. There were no lights on in the apartment. Not a good
sign. Treading lightly over the threshold, feeling her way for the light
switch, she flipped on the overhead light. Her eyes met her husbands’.

Caught in his trap, beyond an
ability to decipher his strange look, the muscles in her body tensed to dry,
brittle glass.

Mitch was propped against the
kitchen doorframe, an empty glass draped in his hand. His eyes were shaded,
thick smoke staring at her.

One mere look set her soul
aflame.

“Evening,” he drawled out, too
sweet for her heart to take.

Cheyanne’s knees started to
buckle, her palms turning sweaty. Unable to answer him, she took a deep breath,
but her voice box seemed control by his steely look. She’d never seen him this
empty, this cold. With inborn resilience, she stepped forward, facing the
danger head on.

Mitch stood, Cheyanne halted. He
raised his hand, and then threw the empty glass at her head. He missed her by
mere inches.

“Are you insane?” she screamed at
him.

Turning to the broken shards of
glass, she sensed, rather than heard his approach. His grip had her crying out,
then loosened, almost relaxed, but still firm on her upper arms.

She had no idea what to expect
from him at this point.

“Do you like this gown?” he
suddenly asked, throwing her off guard.

“Yes,” she whispered, her stomach
fluttering.

“Just a little…or a lot?” He was
toying with the thin strap on the gown. Then his touch went lower, Mitch
trailing his finger under the swell of her left breast.

He was tearing her apart, quite
savagely, by the gentleness of his touch.

She licked her lips, expecting
something to explode. Her ears ringing, a sense of foreboding crept in swiftly.
He just tossed a glass at her head and was now touching her as a lover would. She
could handle anger. She could not handle volcanic eruptions, yet one seemed
headed her way.

“It’s a beautiful gown,” she said
softly. His hands had moved up to her neck, then down both shoulders, Mitch
caressing her skin with his palms.

Her heart was pounding against
her chest, waiting for his next move. Hurt, humiliated, she needed to stay on
her toes, but every breath he took had her swaying forward, closer to the
danger.

“Too bad it’s no longer yours,”
he said. He slid off one strap, and when she balked, he moved to the other,
trying to remove that one.

Cheyanne’s eyes went wide. She
reached up, grabbing both straps to keep her gown on. Mitch counteracted this
move by trailing his fingers down her cleavage. A half breath later, he ripped
her gown in two, the violence shocking her.

She had to control her body from
reacting, grabbing the torn material.

“You make me sick!” he said.

The tears came and shed quickly.
His words cold, they felt like ice against her exposed skin.

“I—” she sputtered.

When he raised his hand, she
half-expected to feel a punch, but all he did was hold his palm in her face.

“Don’t say another word to me,”
he warned.

Wincing, every square inch of her
was aware of this being a dangerous game she was about to lose.

“I want you gone by daylight,”
the words said soft, but his fury quite visible.

The dreadful stream of tears
would not stop, her hands clenched to the ruined gown. She’d met fury before,
but never this close. His breath was fanning her face.

“I will not have my wife come
home to me, smelling of another man, touched by another man…” he dragged out.

“I—I never…” she protested.

His eyes reached hers, Cheyanne
wisely keeping the rest inside. She could now see he was drunk, why he’d thrown
the glass at her head.

“I know you’ve been with another.
Georgiana told me,” he said.

“Did she now?” she slipped in,
flinching when he suddenly towered over her.

“I have friends in high places.
They look out for me,” he said.

“Well, I have…”

“Shut the hell up!” he yelled at
her. “I want you out of here by the morning, and by God, you had better be!”

“Where am I supposed to go? You’ve
taken everything from me.”

He lowered his gaze. “Apparently,
I forgot to remove your lover from easy grasp.”

“Angel is not my…” She quickly
bit down on her tongue before finishing this. Mitch’s jaw was twitching, the
veins in her neck were throbbing, and his steely gaze was locked with hers.

“Angel?” he verbally rushed at
her. He stepped forward and grabbed her. “You left me for your precious Angel?
Fuck! Why couldn’t you have had an affair with someone I don’t know?”

She did not dare answer this. Hell,
she didn’t have much of a choice. He shoved her away and turned his back on her.

“Get out of my sight…now!”

Cheyanne was about to move to the
bedroom, do as he told until her body stopped trembling, but Mitch whipped
around. “Never mind. I’ll leave. Just make damn sure you’re gone before I get back.”

She watched in horror as he made
his way to the door, never looked her way, stepped out, then slammed the door
in her face.

Cheyanne dropped to her knees,
shuddering uncontrollably. Stinging tears cascaded down her face. She may have
walked into this marriage blinded, but the light was opening her eyes. A wife
to him was a possession only, bought and sold.

She’d been telling herself she
was little more than a trophy. She’d been right all along…but her heart did not
like this fact, any more than her body did.

If only he had opened the wound a
little wider, she might have been able to hate him. Instead, she pitied a man
who could not love what he had.

****

Inside the elevator, Mitch punched
his fist against the wall. Damn her! He’d almost hit her. Never—ever—would he
resort to physical violence, but dear God, he’d almost hit his wife.

She’d come back to him with love
in her eyes. The second he saw that, he could not control his emotions. His
body had flushed with an enormous amount of heat. His vision clouded. Every
vein coursed inside him with fury. The worst of it was when she shivered with
pleasure to his touch.

A million times worse was when he
almost buckled, giving in.

Damn her! She could not keep
doing this to him. He’d never make it the four months. She could not keep
looking at him with innocence in her eyes, when he knew she’d been with another
man tonight.

Georgiana would not lie to him.
She would not gain much from it, and if anything, Georgiana only did or said
whatever made a profit for her.

The elevator took him to the
lobby, the lobby to the outside world, and the second he stepped on the
sidewalk, he fell apart.

****

Mitch wanted her gone, so gone it
was. But it wasn’t going to be in the morning. She hurriedly packed her bags,
grabbed whatever was hers, and then left.