Set Up in SoHo (The Matchmaker Chronicles) (22 page)

“I haven’t actually talked to her. I’ve left messages on her phone, but she hasn’t been answering.”

“Maybe she and Michael are shacked up in unmarried bliss.”

“Oh, please, she’d have told us if she’d moved in.” I sounded more positive than I actually was. Bethany had always confided in me, but with Michael it was different. Maybe it was Althea’s involvement or maybe Bethany just honestly didn’t know what she wanted to do. Either way, it was weird to feel like I was on the outside.

“You’re right,” Clinton agreed, without any of my self-doubt. “She would have. So that means she’s still contemplating. Or something worse has happened.”

“Like what?” I asked, wiping the last of the goop from my face.

“I don’t know.” Clinton shrugged. “I’m probably just making mountains out of molehills. I’m sure she’s fine. If she wasn’t we’d be the first to know. Right?”

“Of course.” Still, I was worried now. And feeling guilty. I’d been so wrapped up in my own life, and in Ethan.

I played back the conversation from the rooftop. She’d sounded okay. Just unsure of what her decision should be. Clearly, she cared about Michael. Which meant that the decision was an important one. Hell, who was I kidding? It was huge. One I couldn’t even conceive of—at least not with Dillon.

“What about Althea?” Clinton asked. “Did she mention them at brunch?”

“No. But that’s not all that surprising. She was sort of fixated on Vanessa and her engagement.”

“I’ll bet. Althea triumphs again. She’s probably sending out press releases as we speak.”

“Well, it’s not quite that bad,” I laughed. “I mean, despite the bet, she is genuinely happy for Mark and Vanessa.”

“As are we all. They’re absolutely perfect together.”

“I know. And to be honest, at first I thought Mark was a bit of a stuffed shirt.”

“Which just goes to show you, you can’t judge a book by its cover.”

“You’re talking about Michael again, aren’t you?”

“I’m just saying . . .” He tilted his head and opened his palms, letting the sentence hang.

“I haven’t been that bad. I was just upset about Althea and her meddling.”

“Yes, but sometimes that works out for the best, doesn’t it? Vanessa and Mark, case in point.”

“We both know that Vanessa had as much to do with Mark falling in love with her as Althea did.”

“Except that if it hadn’t been for Althea, and a little shove from Vanessa’s mother, I hardly think the two of them would have found their way back together after the debacle with Cybil and Stephen.”

“So what do you want from me?” I asked. “A glowing endorsement of my aunt and her matchmaking? Not going to happen. I think the whole idea is archaic.”

“Well, it is, in a way, I suppose. And, of course, I’m not asking you to accept something you’re so fundamentally opposed to. It’s just that I want you to tread carefully with Bethany. She puts a lot of stock in what you say.”

“Oh, please.” I frowned. “You’re giving me too much power. And besides, I’m always careful about what I say.”

Clinton responded with laughter, and I would have taken offense, except that it was Clinton, and in all honesty he was right.

“Look, when it comes to Michael and Bethany, I’ll be the soul of discretion. I swear.” I held up my fingers Girl Scout style.

“All right then.” He nodded, satisfied. “Now that we’ve got everyone’s love life sorted out, what do you say we go and find Cassie. I want to go over some of the ideas we have for next week’s show.” We walked down the hall, Clinton still teasing me about my tendency to react without thinking, stopping in the doorway of Cassie’s office as she looked up from a phone call, signaling us for silence.

“And you’re sure about all of this?” she asked, the lines around her eyes indicating that she wasn’t pleased with what the caller had to say. “I see. And there’s nothing else to be done?” There was silence as the party on the other end answered. Cassie’s frown deepened and she nodded. “I guess that’s it then. Right. Thanks for your help.” She placed the receiver in the cradle and for a moment the only sound in the room was the ticking of her clock.

“That was Jeri Yost. Bethany’s friend from Metro Media,” she said finally, waving us into the chairs in front of her desk. “I called her after I talked to Monica Sinclair.”

“You talked to Monica?” I asked, chewing the side of my lip, a nervous habit I’d carried over from adolescence.

“Yes,” Cassie said, her tone brusque, another indication that she wasn’t happy, “a few minutes ago.”

“And I take it the news wasn’t good?” I scrunched my nose up, a physical reaction to what I already knew I didn’t want to hear. “No,” Cassie sighed, “it wasn’t.”

“DuBois isn’t meeting with us,” Clinton said, putting my worst fears into words.

Cassie shook her head. “Apparently, he changed his mind.”

“But Monica said that he’d agreed to a meeting,” I said, as if that made it irrevocable.

“Yes, but it was only a tentative agreement. And we already knew DuBois was gun-shy when it came to public outings.”

“So it’s over?” I asked, still trying to wrap my mind around the idea. “It can’t be. Surely there’s something we can do?”

“Not a thing. Monica was quite clear on the fact. There will be no meeting with DuBois. At least not for us.”

“Did she say why he changed his mind?” Clinton asked.

“No. She gave no reason at all. In fact, the call was fairly brief. I got the idea that she just wanted to get it over with.”

“Probably embarrassed to have led us on,” Clinton groused.

“Well, anyway, that’s why I called Jeri. I thought maybe she could get to the bottom of what really happened.”

“And?” I prompted.

“At first she said she couldn’t help. Not her account. You know the drill. But after I emphasized how important this was to all of us and explained what was at stake, she said she’d do a little snooping.”

“So she was reporting back just now.”

“Exactly.” Cassie nodded. “But you’re not going to like what she found out.”

“I don’t see how it can get much worse,” Clinton said. “I mean, with DuBois out that means our chances at prime time just sank to zero.”

“Not to mention our credibility with the big brass.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Cassie said. “I’ll smooth things over. The show’s ratings are solid. They’re not going to drop us."

"But they’re not likely to give us another shot at prime time, either.”

“No. Not after this.”

“So what happened?” I asked. “Why did DuBois change his mind?”

“According to Jeri, it was mandated,” Cassie said, running a hand through her hair.

“By whom?” Clinton frowned.

“An investor. A major one, apparently.”

“And someone DuBois listens to,” Clinton said. “Did she know why they put the kibosh on the interview?”

“No. Apparently, it was all very hush-hush. Closed-door meeting. That kind of thing. But the long and short of it was that the investor made it clear that if DuBois didn’t pull the plug on the interview, they’d pull the plug on DuBois.”

“But that’s blackmail,” I protested.

“No,” Cassie said on a sigh. “It’s just business. And unfortunately, it didn’t fall our way.”

“So who was it that screwed us over?” I asked, fuming. “I want to know who the bastard is.”

“No, actually, you don’t,” Cassie said, shaking her head.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded, anger making my face hot. “Of course I want to know. And if possible make sure they pay for what they’ve done.”

“Andi,” Clinton reached over to cover his hand with mine, “nothing’s ever accomplished in anger.”

“The hell it isn’t. Who is it, Cassie? I want to know now.”

Cassie blew out a long breath. “God, I hate being the one to have to say this. But I don’t see any way around it. If I don’t tell you, someone else will.”

“So just tell me,” I said, my stomach twisting into a tight knot of dread.

“It was Ethan’s company, Andi,” Cassie said, her voice leaden. “Mathias Industries forced DuBois to turn us down.”

Chapter 17

“Oh my God,” I gasped, feeling as if someone had slammed me in the solar plexus. “It can’t be true. There’s got to be some kind of mistake. Are you certain?”

Cassie nodded, looking as miserable as I felt. “Jeri said she had proof.”

“Look, Andi,” Clinton said, taking my hand, “just because it’s Ethan’s family’s company doesn’t mean it’s Ethan.”

I jerked my hand away and walked over to the window, my mind reeling as my stomach roiled. “It’s him. It has to be. He’s taken over for his father as his grandfather’s right-hand man. How could he not know?”

“But why would he want to hurt you?” Clinton shook his head, clearly as floored as I was.

“I think I can answer that,” Cassie said. “Mathias Industries is also a major investor in Applause.” Applause was a rival television network. Their niche, as it were, covered high-end entertainment. Theater, opera, dance…and high-end restaurants. “Based on what Jeri told me, it looks like when Ethan heard about Andi’s plans, he realized what a gold mine the opportunity was.”

“And decided to capitalize on it.” Clinton nodded.

“So you’re saying that he stole my idea.”

“It makes sense,” Clinton said. “He probably figured Andi wouldn’t land the interview anyway. What with DuBois being so publicity shy. But then we managed to pull it off. Or at least get a very solid foot in the door.”

“And so he had no choice but to kill it.” I fought against my rioting emotions, trying to find sense where there probably was none.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s the most likely scenario.” Cassie sighed. “I’m sorry, Andi. But I have to call it like I see it.”

“Of course you do,” I said, as I struggled to breathe. The implications were unavoidable. Ethan had played me. Taken my trust and turned it to his advantage. “It’s all just business. Right?” I could hear Ethan’s words echoing in my head. “That’s exactly what he said. I thought we were talking about some other business deal. But maybe it was his way of warning me. Of putting me on notice. He even suggested we ought to have a backup plan. At Althea’s.” I choked back tears. “God, I thought he was just being nice.”

“Maybe he was,” Cassie suggested, her tone indicating that she didn’t believe a word of it.

“Yeah right. And Althea’s going to give up matchmaking and join a knitting club,” I said, anger thankfully overcoming my tears. “Nice would have meant being honest. Telling me that he was going to steal Philip DuBois and maneuver his company so that they came out the winner. Oh, but wait,” I said, lifting a hand, “there isn’t a way to turn something so devious into anything even remotely resembling civilized, is there? I mean, when would he have brought it up? When he was charming my friends? When he was sleeping in my bed?”

“Andi,” Clinton began, only to have me motion him silent.

“No. This isn’t business. This is personal. It’s my show we’re talking about. Our show. And he sabotaged it. For his own gain. There is nothing businesslike about that. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to take it lying down.” The irony of the last bit hurt more than I could ever begin to put words to.

“But there’s nothing you can do,” Cassie said, ever the voice of reason. “The damage is done. At least as far as we’re concerned, DuBois is off the table.”

“We could tell him what happened,” Clinton said, his eyes narrowed as he considered the idea. “If nothing else, at least it would cast doubt on Mathias Industries.”

“No.” I shook my head, staring out the window. “DuBois is clearly already in their back pocket. He needs their money. And their clout. He’s not going to change his mind.”

“Andi’s right on this one, I’m afraid,” Cassie said. “There’s nothing gained in going to DuBois. Besides, I doubt he’d talk to us anyway.”

“So we’re screwed,” Clinton sighed.

“Probably,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t give Ethan a piece of my mind.” I turned from the window, fists clenched tight, my mind made up.

“Don’t you think maybe you ought to calm down first?” Clinton asked.

“Not much chance of that.”

“So, what?” Clinton frowned. “You’re just going to hunt him down and let him have it?”

“Sounds pretty damn appealing.”

“But it won’t change anything,” Cassie insisted.

“No,” I said, already heading for the door, “but it’ll make me feel better and that’s got to count for something.”

Thirty minutes later, wielding my anger like some kind of virtual Excalibur, I walked into Mathias Industries. The company headquartered in the Lipstick Building in Midtown, taking up three entire floors. Ethan’s office was on the sixth. Clinton had wanted to come with me, insisted on it, actually, but I’d turned him down. This was something I had to handle on my own.

“You can go in now,” the woman at the desk said, eyeing me warily. My insistence on seeing Ethan had bordered on aggressive, and I could tell she thought he was making a mistake letting me into his office.

And considering the circumstances, she was absolutely right.

“Andi,” Ethan said, rising from behind the huge mahogany monstrosity that passed for his desk. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“No,” I laughed, the sound harsh and bitter. “I don’t suppose that you were.”

“Then . . He shook his head, having the actual audacity to look confused.

“I have a few things to say to you,” I said, clamping down on my anger. I needed to stay clearheaded. Or at least keep from totally spiraling out of control. “And I figured now was as good a time as any. Sorry if I’m interrupting—
business
."

He frowned now, clearly recognizing that this wasn’t a social visit. “I don’t know what this is about, but—”

“It’s about the fact that you screwed me over,” I said, cutting him off with a wave of my hand. “That you fixed things so that DuBois would never do the interview.”

“Andi. . .”

“Save the excuses. I know you did it. I’ve got proof. Mathias Industries is a major investor in Philip DuBois’ new restaurant. Am I correct?”

“Yes. We are.”

“And you own majority shares in Applause?”

“We do, but I—”

“And despite all the conversations we’ve had about my wanting to get DuBois for the show,” I said, cutting him off, “you conveniently forgot to tell me about your own interests?”