Otherworldly Bad Boys: Three Complete Novels (80 page)

“She didn’t deserve that,” said Jewel.

“No,” I managed, my voice strangled. I wiped at my eye.

“Aw, shit,” she said. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

I squared my shoulders and pulled myself together. “No, it’s fine.” I took a deep breath. “So, about the story. Could I quote you if I went to press about Callum and his girls?”

“No way,” she said. “I’m not messing this up. I don’t want the world to know. It’s a great gig.”

I sighed, weighing my desire to see Callum Rutherford humiliated against the knowledge that he was probably giving all these girls the time of their lives and paying them for it. They could use a break from getting their garters stuffed with dollar bills. I was sure they appreciated it. “So, you’re not really his girlfriends? You’re just paid escorts?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Escorts? You asking me if he pays to sleep with girls?”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Does he?”

“This is off the record, right?”

I sighed. Then I nodded. Even if Jewel wouldn’t talk, I might be able to convince someone else to do it. People did a lot of crazy things just to see their names in the newspaper. “Sure, off the record.”

“Not me,” she said. “I don’t do that. But maybe with some of the other girls.”

“Weird,” I said. “He’s richer than god. He has women throwing themselves at him. Why is he paying for girlfriends and sex?”

She shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

Airenne came back, her eyes bright, a big smile on her face. “He’s amazing,” she said. “He’s so charming. I think I’m in love.”

I bit my tongue. I wanted to tell her that he would only be interested in her if she was the kind of girl who took money to take off her clothes, but I decided it would only make her upset. Besides, until I had someone who could corroborate what Jewel had told me, it would only be idle speculation.

“I want you to meet him,” she said. “Come with me.”

I let her drag me across the ballroom. I had to admit that I was becoming more intrigued by this guy. Why did he need to buy his girlfriends? And did that make him more of an asshole or less of one?

But Callum saw us coming and turned away. He started to weave through the crowd, like he was running away from us.

That made two times tonight that he’d walked away from me.

Coincidence?

Callum clinked a fork against his champagne flute, and all of the guests quieted. They moved back from him, leaving a wide space around him.

He stood in the center of the floor, smiling widely. “Hi there, everyone. I hope you’re having a lovely time. I wanted to say a few words about my mother, the woman who we’re here to honor tonight.”

Everyone applauded.

He waited for them to quiet. “I was very young when my mother was tragically taken from me, so I don’t remember very much about her. Luckily for me, she left a vast legacy behind, and through her work, I’ve come to know her in much the same way as all of you have. Veronica Waite was a talented actress, singer, and dancer. She was a beautiful and successful woman. What you may or may not know is that she didn’t start out so successful. She grew up an unknown hopeful in middle America.

“I believe,” he continued, “that she would wholly approve of what we are doing here tonight, raising money to for grants to the Aurora School of Performing Arts, where my mother was lucky enough to win a scholarship. Through our sponsorship, more unknown hopefuls in middle America will have the same chance that my mother did.”

A waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes moved in front of me, obscuring my view of Callum.

I could still see his mouth moving, but I couldn’t see the rest of his face.

A cold hand gripped my spine.

Callum kept talking, but I didn’t hear anything he said.

I
recognized
that mouth. Those lips.

Holy hell.

Vigil was Callum Rutherford.

CHAPTER SIX

Eventually, Callum finished his speech.

There was more applause.

Airenne weaved through the surrounding people, gripping a recorder.

I followed her. I felt taut, like a string that had been pulled too tight. My heart banged away in my chest.

“Callum!” She raised her hand.

He smiled. “Yes, Airenne?”

“I wonder if you’d care to comment on your mother’s own work raising money for scholarships to the Aurora School for the Performing Arts?”

“Certainly,” said Callum. “She was devoted to it.”

I pushed past Airenne.

“I think what we’re doing here tonight is exactly what she would have wanted us to do in her memory,” Callum continued.

I emerged in the clear space, right next to Callum.

He saw me, and his jaw tightened.

I glared at him. “Mr. Rutherford. Cecily Kane,
Aurora Sun-Times
.”

“I know who you are,” he said, his voice ice. “You’re the woman who’s writing those articles about that insane man, Vigil. Painting him out to be a hero when he really needs to stand aside and let the law do its own work.”

“Well, a man like yourself could hardly be expected to do anything about organized crime in this city, could he?” I said. “It’s not as if you have the resources, the
means
to influence those sorts of matters for good. I suppose that’s why there’s an insane man out there cleaning up crime while you’re inside your mansion giving money to aspiring hopefuls in middle America.”

He smiled tightly. “I don’t suppose that you’re implying that giving money to the arts or to artists themselves is not a worthwhile cause, are you, Ms. Kane? You wouldn’t dare say something so hurtful to me and my mother’s memory at a benefit for her, would you?”

Airenne grabbed my hand. “Cecily,” she whispered. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving,” I said. I shook Airenne off and headed out of the ballroom.

This couldn’t be happening. Vigil could
not
be Callum Rutherford. I hated Callum Rutherford and everything he stood for. He was an arrogant jerk, a spoiled playboy who got whatever he wanted. How had I tumbled into his arms?

I’d made love to him.

He’d been inside me.

I felt ill.

I picked up the pace, my borrowed heels clattering against the marble floor.

I was dangerously close to losing it. I didn’t know if I was going to throw up or burst into tears or both, but I wanted to do it as far away from this mansion as possible.

I needed to call a cab. I’d shared one with Airenne on the way over here, but I wanted to be alone now. I scrabbled in my purse for my phone.

I pulled it out and began to dial.

And someone caught me by the arm. “Excuse me, Ms. Kane.”

I dropped my phone. I knelt to pick it up.

But a portly man with a balding head had beaten me to it. He was dressed in a suit with tails. He tucked my phone into his pocket. “I beg your pardon, but Mr. Rutherford would like to speak with you. He’s asked that I escort you to the parlor to wait on him.”

I yanked myself away from him. “I don’t have anything to say to Mr. Rutherford. Sorry.”

He took my arm again, more firmly. “I’m afraid I really must insist.”

I looked up and down the hallway. There was no one there besides myself and this man.

I struggled, trying to pull out of his grasp. “Let go of me. And give me back my phone.”

He held me fast. “With pleasure, miss. As soon as I’ve accompanied you to the parlor.”

I gave one last useless tug against his grip. And then I gave up. Maybe I wanted to hear what Callum Rutherford—Vigil—had to say.

The portly man stood guard at the door to the parlor as if I might get up and try to make a run for it at any moment.

“Who are you, anyway?” I asked him.

“I’m Nolan Orville, miss. I’m the butler. I’ve worked for the Rutherford family since before Master Callum was born.” He smiled at me. “You could say that I’m the closest thing to family he has.”

Interesting. “And you do whatever he asks you to do, even manhandle women into his parlor?”

“I assist him in whatever way I can,” he said. “I know him better than anyone else. I know all his secrets. He trusts me to do any task he requires, yes.”

“All his secrets?” I said. “Even the spandex ones?”

Nolan’s mouth curved into a smile. “I warned him it was unwise to interact with you as much as he did. He didn’t listen. And now, here we are.”

So, it was like that, was it? Nolan Orville didn’t approve of me as an appropriate choice for his surrogate son. Wonderful. I folded my hands into my lap and stared forward. There was no point in communicating with him any further.

Callum appeared in the room several minutes later. “Thanks, Nolan.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

“That’ll be all.”

Nolan looked as if he was about to say something.

“That’ll be
all
,” Callum said firmly.

Nolan left the room and Callum shut the door after him.

I stood up. It was strange to look at him. Now that I knew who he was, I could see Vigil in him. He moved just as gracefully, and, of course, he had the same broad shoulders and powerful body. But it was like looking at a distorted photograph or something. He was Vigil, but he
wasn’t
Vigil.

He didn’t carry himself with the same kind of lethal presence that Vigil did. I would have said that he didn’t seem as confident, but that seemed ludicrous. Callum Rutherford was cocky and self-assured. Of course he was confident.

I realized it was simply a different kind of confidence. Callum was snobbish, entitled. Vigil oozed strength and certainty.

He crossed the room to the fireplace. It was antique and decorative. He set the glass of champagne he carried on the mantle. He didn’t look at me. “You recognized me. I thought you might. I was… too close to you. But I guess I thought it was unlikely you’d ever get close enough to me to figure it out.”

“Is that what you told Nolan when he told you to stay away from me?”

“Don’t be angry with Nolan. He looks out for me, that’s all.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “He practically forced me into this room.”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly let you leave.” He turned around to look at me.

God, he was annoyingly flawless. His face was perfectly formed, his chin chiseled. He had stunning good looks. I hated that about him. I hated that he was so clean cut and gorgeous, like a male model. It rubbed me the wrong way. I didn’t think rich people should get to be gorgeous on top of everything else.

“I
am
leaving,” I said. “I only stayed as a courtesy. So, say what you have to say before I lose my patience.”

He looked at the floor. “You’re angry with me.”

“I’m not.” I drew in a sharp breath. “I’m disgusted. Everything about you disgusts me. I don’t like your type. I don’t like spoiled little rich boys.”

“Well, you’re entitled to your opinion, of course.” There was a twinge of bitterness to his tone. Was it supposed to make me feel sorry for him? It didn’t.

I dragged my gaze over him again. He was Vigil. He really was. The man that I’d been falling for, that had fucked me over the chair in my bedroom was actually this man. “You make me sick. I can’t believe I had sex with you.”

He looked up at me.

He looked hurt.

That surprised me. It was my turn to look away.

“Be that as it may,” he said in a level voice, “we have a little bit of an issue. You know my secret, and you have access to
The Sun-Times
. And I can’t let you publish my secret identity.”

Publish… Why hadn’t I thought of that? I’d been so caught up in my own distress that I hadn’t even thought about what an absolutely dynamite story I’d just stumbled onto.

The man under the mask of Vigil.

Callum Rutherford.

It was juicy and intriguing, and it would cement me as a force to be reckoned with in journalism. I had to publish that story. Nothing could stop me from doing it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You think I could sit on a story like this? No way in hell,” I said.

He ran a hand through his hair. “If you publish it, then you ruin everything. I can’t be Vigil if you reveal that I’m him.”

“So?”

“So, what about the girls? You know how many of them I’ve saved?”

“Do you even care about the girls?” I said. “Why do you do it? If you wanted to stop Barclay, with all of the money you have, you’re telling me you couldn’t?”

“Barclay has money too,” said Callum. “He’s not exactly without connections either.”

“There has to be some way that you could do a more effective job without dressing up in black spandex.”