Stay the Night (2 page)

Hopper shrugged. “Or someone reclusive. Like Ian MacNiven.”

“The football player?”

“He hasn’t allowed media near him since his car accident. If you can get him to agree to a photo essay, everyone will be your best friend regardless of Weber.”

Titania tucked the SD card back in her pocket. “I won’t need to get MacNiven. I’ll have Cole call to clear this all up.”

Hopper looked skeptical. “Good luck.”

She didn’t need luck. Cole was just acting like a child who wasn’t getting what he wanted. She’d just point out to him that he wanted something better than her.

She waited until she was outside the building to call him. “What are you up to, Cole?”

“Titania, are you back in town?”

“You know I am.” She moved out of the way of the hordes entering and leaving the building. “Stop playing games, Cole. Having my photos banned isn’t funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny. I was trying to get your attention. You aren’t returning my calls, Titania.”

“You aren’t seriously going to attempt to play the wounded lover here, are you? Because we both know that you’ve likely shagged five women since Paris.”

“But they weren’t you, darling.”

Titania rolled her eyes. “Just call Hopper and tell him he’s free to buy my photos.”

“I will, when you agree to go out with me again.”

She shook her head. “You can’t have me.”

“I already have.”

“And that one night was a colossal mistake, as evidenced by this situation.”

“It’s your choice, Titania.”

She heard the shrug in his voice, as if stalling her career was no big thing. She clenched her fist. He was lucky he wasn’t standing in front of her. “This is blackmail. I can’t believe what a prick you’re being. You’re going to hold my life hostage because I won’t date you? Have you lost your mind? This is psycho behavior.”

“You wouldn’t have this life if it weren’t for me.”

“
Really.
” Her vision went red. “My hard work counts for nothing, does it?”

“That’s not what I meant, darling, and you know it. If you calm down and look at this reasonably, you’ll see it’s win-win, for both of us.”

“Go bugger yourself,
darling
.” She hung up, tempted to throw her phone into the street.

But she needed her phone to call the other editors just in case Cole hadn’t actually gotten to them.

Except he had. Several editorial directors who’d loved her in the past wouldn’t even take her calls.

Hopper was right—Cole wasn’t going to budge. If she contacted MacNiven and got him to agree, she’d have a place to stay while she took photos of him. Then she could convert the pictures into money. A lot of money. If Hopper was willing to buck whatever hold Cole had on him, it meant that another editor might even pay more.

She’d show Cole who he was dealing with and end up on top. When she left home and her father’s influence, she’d vowed she’d never have a man push her around. She wouldn’t be blackmailed, blackballed, or blacklisted ever again.

She found a small park nearby, unloaded her bags on the bench next to her, and started going through her contacts. Someone had to know how to get ahold of Ian MacNiven.

An hour later, she had nothing but severe hunger pangs. So she did what she always did when she wasn’t sure how to proceed. She called Gigi.

Imogen Summerhill was one of Hollywood’s hottest box office stars, but her greatest role was as Titania’s sister. At least, that was what Titania thought. Gigi was perfect. In looks definitely—she was one of the most beautiful women in the world—but in spirit and temperament as well. Gigi had been her cheering section and best friend all her life.

Gigi answered her phone—thank goodness. She was on location in Greece, and her schedule was wonky. “Titania?”

“You know how I berated you for sleeping with Dirk?”

“Yes.”

“I take it all back.”

“Oh, Tawny, what have you done? Wait.” There was some rustling on the phone and then stillness. “Okay, I’m in my room. Tell me now.”

“You remember the last time I was in Paris?”

Gigi gasped. “Bloody hell. You slept with Cole Weber.”

“Yes.” She smacked a hand to her forehead, leaning her head back. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Neither do I. Didn’t we often have conversations about how he is a user?”

“Yes, and then I succumbed to his questionable charm, and now he’s blackmailing me into going out with him.”

“How is he blackmailing you?” her sister asked, her voice low and dangerous.

“No publication will accept my work.”

“The bastard,” Gigi said with a hiss. “Have you told Bea? Bea knows people. She can have him taken care of, if you know what I mean. Please let her.”

She wasn’t very close to her other sisters, though Beatrice, the oldest, was the most tolerable. “I’m not sure what she could do.”

“I don’t know. Sue him. Harass him back. Cut off his balls.”

Tempting, especially the last suggestion. But suing him would take too long, and there’d be a stigma attached to her. She preferred taking care of this more expediently and directly. “I’ll think about it, but I need your help first.”

“Tell me.”

“I need to contact Ian MacNiven. My contacts have no idea where he’s moved to since his accident.”

“The captain of the London Assault? I don’t know anyone from that club. But you know who would know? Bea.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You’re going to make it necessary to call her, aren’t you?”

“You need to get over your aversion to the family. They’re not as bad as we thought when we were kids.”

That was a matter of opinion, and not something she wanted to get into. She had to figure out where she was sleeping, because right now it seemed like it was going to be this park bench. “How quickly do you think Beatrice will be able to track down MacNiven? I have some constraints.”

“Why do I feel like I don’t have the whole story?” Gigi asked.

“Well, I
may
be broke.” Titania made a face.

“
What?
Tawny! How is that possible?”

She winced. “I may also be evicted.”

Gigi started to laugh.

Titania held the phone away and stared at it. Then she returned it to her ear. “I’m not joking about this, Gigi.”

“I know you’re not,” her sister said, breathless from laughing. “But you have to admit that your situation is fantastical.”

She crossed her arms tight around her stomach. She didn’t have to admit anything.

“You know what you have to do, don’t you?” Gigi asked.

“What?”

“Go to the South Street house and ask to stay.”

She bolted upright. “Bloody hell, no I don’t.”

“You just said you’re penniless and evicted. Where are you going to go? Do you have a credit card with enough for a hotel room? Do you know how expensive London hotels are?”

Titania sighed. “I’ll just sleep on this park bench.”

“There’s food at home.”

Food.
She imagined Fran’s cooking and her stomach rumbled. “How did you know I’m hungry?” she grumbled.

“Darling, you’re always hungry.” Gigi’s tone softened. “It’s not like when Father was alive. You’ll be surprised. Mother will be happy to have you back.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Her lips pouted, her arms tight around her chest. Jacqueline Summerhill had never been an available mother. Neither of her parents had cared about her. She was the last one—the last chance for a male heir to pass on the title. She’d been born the wrong gender and a colossal disappointment.

“Mother isn’t who we thought,” Gigi said. “Neither are the sisters. Even Summer. Give them a chance. They’re your flesh and blood.”

Blood ran as thin as water as far as she was concerned.

“Go to the South Street house for me, Tawny,” her sister said sweetly. “So I know you have a roof over your head and food in your belly until we figure out how to fix your situation.”

She wanted to say no—she wanted to come up with another viable option. But she traveled too much to have any close friends she could stay with. South Street was the only choice.

“Damn it all,” she exclaimed.

Gigi chuckled. “I take it you’re agreeing to go.”

“Only for you.”

“Thank you, Tawny. You’re so generous. Make sure you eat a couple of Fran’s chocolate chip cookies for me.”

“Fran’s chocolate chip cookies,” she repeated reverently. Maybe there was a silver lining to this whole situation.

Chapter Two

Titania wheeled her carry-on to the steps of her childhood house and stared at the front door.

She didn’t want to go in.

She had nowhere else to go.

Her mother and Fran lived in the house with Reginald’s bastard daughter, Summer. According to Gigi, sometimes their sister Portia came and stayed the night when her fiancé was out of town.

Jacqueline and Summer were the last people Titania wanted to spend time with. And she definitely didn’t want to hear her mother lecture her about her being financially irresponsible. She wasn’t—not really. This was just bad timing.

A park bench it was. Colder than inside the house but certainly with fewer strings.

As she hiked her camera bags back on her shoulder, the front door opened and Summer stood illuminated in the light.

Every time she saw Summer she was startled by how much she resembled the rest of them. She had the Summerhill coloring: the blue eyes and blonde hair. She looked like she belonged in the doorway of the Mayfair house; a conservative woman with a pedigree that extended back generations instead of just a bastard by a mistress.

“Are you going to stand there all night, or do you want to come in?” Summer asked. The only sign that she wasn’t completely at ease was the way she clutched at the pendant around her neck.

Titania pursed her lips. “I may need to think about that for a bit.”

Summer nodded. “Want to think about it inside, without those heavy bags on your shoulders?”

The weight of the bags was a lot more comfortable than going in. Sighing, she picked up her carry-on and trudged up the steps.

“Give that to me.” Summer reached out and took the luggage.

At least she didn’t reach for her camera bags—Titania didn’t let anyone touch them.

“Gigi’s not back from Greece yet,” Summer said, setting the carry-on inside and closing the door.

It chafed her that this usurper was so at home here. “I know where Gigi is.”

Summer wrapped her hand around her necklace. “Bea and your mother are in the study.”

Bea she wanted to see, but her mother … She hovered in the doorway of the house, wondering what to do.

“You don’t talk very much, do you?” Summer stated.

She grunted.

The usurper put her hand on Titania’s arm. “I know we don’t know each other, and I can imagine how you feel about me—”

“No, you can’t.”

Summer’s face fell.

Bugger it all. She sighed, feeling like she’d kicked a puppy. “I—”

“Bea and your mother are this way,” Summer said with a polite smile that didn’t mask her hurt feelings. “Follow me.”

Titania wanted to say something but had no idea what. She was good at observing and taking pictures. Talking, especially about feelings, wasn’t in her skillset.

So she set her extra camera gear down and just took the bag that had Psyche, her favorite camera, with her. She never left Psyche behind.

She trailed behind Summer down the hall. Summer gestured to an open door and then left without another word.

Titania watched her walk away, feeling even worse. She knew what it felt like to be an outsider. If she felt like an outsider, what must her father’s illegitimate daughter feel like? Summer couldn’t help who her parents were any more than Titania could. If Gigi were here, she’d lay a guilt trip on her.

She shook her head. She’d deal with that later. First, the lion’s den.

Before she entered, she looked up and saw the Summerhill motto carved above the doorway.
Family and Honour
.

Oh, the irony. She made a face, remembering how much value Reginald put into those three words. A whole lot for someone who had a mistress and illegitimate daughter tucked away on the other side of town.

She entered the study and waited for lightning to strike her. It’d been Reginald’s office, and they were never allowed in there. She’d hated this room. She hadn’t liked its master either. She wouldn’t have been surprised if Reginald was guarding his domain from the hereafter.

But it felt different than when he’d occupied it. Even just in the doorway, it felt lighter and less oppressive.

“If it isn’t the prodigal daughter,” Beatrice said from across the room. “Has hell frozen over?”

Titania scowled so she wouldn’t smile. She’d grown up mostly with Gigi since they were so close in age. She hadn’t known their other sisters because they’d all had their own lives by the time she was old enough to relate to them.

Over the last few weeks Gigi had forced her to interact with them more. They weren’t so bad—especially Bea. Not that she’d ever admit that out loud.

Straightening her back, she walked all the way in.

Bea and Jacqueline were sitting on a couch across from the fireplace, which was lit low. It’d been hot in Italy, but June in London was like weather roulette. They both looked elegant, though Jacqueline had her legs tucked under her, her shoes discarded on the floor.

Titania frowned. She couldn’t remember her mother ever that casual. It was a different mental snapshot than she had—confusing to say the least.

“I thought you were on assignment,” Jacqueline said.

“I just got back.” She cleared her throat, not sure how to ask for help. It was instinct to keep it to herself. This was her problem. She’d take care of it.

But Gigi had said Beatrice had the phone number of the director she’d wanted to contact. What were the chances Bea knew how to get ahold of the football player? Titania had no idea what her oldest sister really did—investments of some sort—but she was reputed to know everyone.

At this point, it was her only hope. If she didn’t contact MacNiven, she’d have to work on Cole, and she wanted nothing to do with him. Her work was her life, and she couldn’t stay in the South Street house for very long. She’d go insane.