When Empires Fall (42 page)

The four walls of the room were draped in rose colored fabric graced with an intricate damask pattern of a lighter beige color, all set between equally spaced pillars with carvings that referenced the coffering of the ceiling. Floor to ceiling mirrors replaced the fabric along the wall in between every other pillar, reflecting light and movement to bring the entire room to life.

Perfectly arranged circular tables of ten chairs each were scattered around the room, adding up to what Quinn knew to be a few hundred guests, the majority of which had still yet to arrive. Atop each white linen tablecloth were intricate arrangements of soft pink orchids and hibiscus, paired with leafy ferns that draped from tall glass vases to the table.

Directly across from the entrance doors, along the back wall, was a small, low-level stage complete with a primly dressed band. She watched, charmed, as they played soothing music with violins, flutes and cellos.

“Our table is near the front,” Grant said suddenly, gently coaxing her out of her reverie and leading her through the room.

“This is incredible,” she managed, too busy gawking to notice as he pulled out a chair for her at their table. “I feel like I’ve been smuggled into a royal palace and any minute the guards are going to notice and they’re gonna kick me out.”

Grant smiled despite himself as she sat, amused at how nervous she looked. On impulse, he leaned down to meet her eyes and brush a strand of hair from her face, his hand lingering at her cheek. “You belong here just as much as the rest of them do.”

She stared up at him, wishing she could believe his words. But she didn’t, and she never would. “I’ll do my best not to embarrass you. I promise.”

He nodded as he pulled away, his hand falling from her face almost regretfully. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Drink some champagne, relax.”

“Okay.” She watched as he walked away, and lamented that there was still so much stress and anxiety stiffening his shoulders and clouding his eyes. She wished, truly, that there was more she could do for him than simply be present at the fundraiser. But until he allowed her in, fully, there was little she could do but wait patiently on the outside for his invitation.

Beside her, Linc leaned in to kiss Lynette, his hands resting on her shoulders as he stood behind her.

“I have to go talk with my uncle, find out how much press is here,” he told her, tweaking her nose as she looked over her shoulder to smile at him. “Don’t let some guy come and sweep you off your feet while I’m gone, or else I’m gonna have to start a brawl and I didn’t bring any back up.”

“Well, if he happens to be a better dancer than you then I can make no promises,” she joked, smirking playfully.

“I’m the only Yankee that can dance so I wouldn’t hold my breath.” He kissed the top of Lynette’s head and winked at Quinn before stalking away.

Quinn watched Lynette with her chin in her hand and her elbow propped up on the table casually, a smug smile curving her lips. “So…you pried into my business earlier, therefore I think it’s only fair I pry into yours. Are things between you and the hunky Mr. Vasser number two getting serious, or what?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lynette admitted, reaching for the cloth napkin before her on the table and fumbling with it as she gave Quinn’s words some thought. “I mean, this has all happened so fast. It’s like he suddenly stormed into my life and now he refuses to let go.”

“But from the look on your face you don’t want him to,” Quinn noted, tilting her head curiously. “You are so smitten with him that I bet a deaf, dumb and blind person could even recognize it.”

Lynette looked pointedly at Quinn, eyebrows raised. “That’s a colorful way of putting it.”

“I’m just stating the obvious.” Quinn smirked, lifting a fresh glass of champagne to her lips. “And I want you to know that I think you’re good for him. You seem like a smart girl, seem to have your head on straight. He needs that structure and security now, especially with everything that’s happened and will happen to the family. He’s going to need you, honey. I just hope you’re ready to be there one hundred percent.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Lynette replied dryly, sipping her own champagne in an attempt to settle her nerves. “I love him.”

Quinn froze, her eyes widening. When she found the words to speak, she reached out to grip Lynette’s hand in her own. “That’s wonderful, Lynette. Have you told him?”

“No,” she said flatly, embarrassment flushing her cheeks. “With all the stress he’s been under, he doesn’t need me getting all sappy on him. Besides, he probably doesn’t want to be tied down. I know what kind of man he is.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, honey. Or him for that manner. That boy is tickled pink about you.” Quinn squeezed her new friend’s hand tightly, urging Lynette to look at her. “There is a lot more to him than meets the eye, as I’m sure you’re well aware. He will appreciate the honesty if you tell him the truth about how you feel.”

Lynette nodded, her lips curving into a slow, considering smile. “Aren’t you being a bit of a hypocrite?”

Quinn paused, then smiled as a half laugh escaped her throat. “I suppose I am, in some ways. But my situation is much different than yours.”

“How so?”

She released Lynette’s hand and leaned back in her chair, lifting her champagne to her lips once again as she thought it over. Her gaze drifted past Lynette towards where Grant had disappeared into the adjoining kitchen area, and she couldn’t help the unsteady sigh that shivered out of her. “He has this habit of opening and closing for me like a steel door. When I’m permitted to enter, I get a glimpse of his passion and his ambition, his courage and his strength. But then he shuts it promptly in my face and I’m left with confusing doubts about his intentions, made even worse by his coldness and apparent disinterest. It’s like being on a circus wheel, going round and round in this circle of moods, always knowing that after the good part there’s going to be a less fun, intimidating part.”

“But you care about him,” Lynette put in.

“More than is probably healthy, I’m sure.” Quinn chuckled, meeting the other woman’s eyes. “Since pretty much the first day I met him, I’ve respected him. Admired him. What I saw before me was this man, so brazenly honorable, reverent of tradition and family. He carries this weight around on his shoulders, like Atlas with the world, this empire that he guards and protects with courage and unshakable conviction. I’ve never known anyone like him.”

“The way he looks at you, Quinn, I don’t think he’s ever known anyone quite like you, either,” Lynette mused, enjoying the surprise that flickered over her friend’s face. “Maybe we’re both being a bit silly by denying that the Vasser men are crazy about us.”

Quinn let out a hooting laugh that echoed through the still more than half empty ballroom. “Maybe. God help us.”

“God help us,” Lynette agreed cheerily, lifting her glass in salute.

Across the room, Grant hovered behind his mother and sister inside the adjoining kitchen, prepared to bash their heads together if they continued bickering. A tension headache was already beginning to bloom behind his left eye and the goddamn fundraiser hadn’t even started yet. He wanted nothing more than to just get this entire ordeal over with and then take a long, hot shower and crawl into bed.

But, until that happy moment, he was going to have to push through like a good soldier.

“Mother, go help Marshall greet the guests as they arrive,” he said brusquely, inviting no room for rebuttal in his tone. His mother bit off her intended snide reply to Madison and tilted her head to stare up at her oldest son.

She met his eyes and held, then let out a smooth, reluctant breath. “This is my event, after all. Perhaps I will.”

But before she left the room, she shot a glance at her daughter, as though daring Madison to comment on how easily she had followed Grant’s orders. But Madison said nothing and only met her gaze with mild disinterest. Furious, but refusing to show it, Charlene left the room in a flourish of black skirts and shimmering diamonds.

Once she was gone, Grant let out a long exhale and turned to his sister, measured impatience in his eyes. “Are you feeling alright? You haven’t seemed yourself since you came back from the hospital.”

Madison held firm, even as her heart skipped and shuddered in her chest. “I’m right as rain, darling.”

But Grant wasn’t convinced and she knew it, so she diverted the subject from herself and onto him. “I should be asking you if you’re alright, Grant. You seem troubled.”

He frowned, thinking immediately of the file folder tucked safely in his briefcase upstairs. “I’m worried about you, Mads. You were the closest to him.”

She felt the sharp pang of horrified grief wretch through her body, but any trace of it barely flickered over her face. Instead, she let her eyes fill with the quiet, cool sadness that was expected of her.

“He was one of the great loves of my life,” she murmured, reaching up to cup her brother’s cheek tenderly. “After you and Linc, and Uncle Marshall. Of course I’m sad. But this will pass.”

“And the scandal?” Grant asked, his dark eyes searching hers. “Does it not taint your memory of him?”

They both thought of Cyrus’ confession, both thinking themselves alone in possessing the knowledge that there was not just one murder admission, but four. And together, silently, they both understood that things were about to get a whole lot worse for the very family they were both sworn to protect.

“Let’s just get through tonight and worry about such things tomorrow,” she decided, rising up to kiss his cheek softly. “Tonight, we will mourn our lost grandfather. Tomorrow, we will analyze his shortcomings and do what needs to be done for the family.”

Knowing she was right, Grant hugged her closely, pulling from her strength as much as she pulled from his.

“The goddamn press is a fucking zoo out there,” Linc grumbled as he prowled into the kitchen, looking more than a little pissed. Both Grant and Madison pulled away and turned to face him, both wary of his temper. “Most of them are staying outside the hotel by the lobby, but of course we’ve allowed a select few to sit and watch the event. I swear, if any one of them misconstrues what happens tonight, I’ll kill them.”

“Calm down, Linc,” Madison urged him, reaching over to grasp his shoulder comfortingly as her other arm remained around Grant. “We’re here together. None of us has to deal with this alone.”

Linc attempted an optimistic grin for her, then looked up at his brother. “You’re right. I love you guys.”

Just then, Marshall poked his head into the kitchen.

“Show’s about to start, kids,” he said, his smile strained. “Best to go sit down.”

T
he three of them made their way out into the ballroom and Grant noted with a sort of cautious curiosity that every one of the three hundred seats was filled. Either they had all come out to support the family, or, more than likely, they simply wanted a chance to see its demise.

Most of those present were family friends and long time recurring guests, while scattered amongst them were the mayor of New York, a few celebrities with ties to the family, prominent business partners with the hotel, and reporters primed with voice recorders and notepads. He ignored them all as they stared at him and his siblings as they weaved their way towards their table. Assuming his natural born role, he kept his hand supportively placed on his sister’s lower back and on his brother’s shoulder as the three of them walked, knowing their every move was being judged, weighed, and monitored. There could be no slip-ups tonight.

The band continued to play soft music and most of those around them chattered away so that the drone of voices carried throughout the room. But it wasn’t until Grant sat down beside Quinn and finally released the breath he had been holding that he even noticed the noise. To him, it had seemed as though they had been walking through a silent minefield, moments away from being hit by an explosion of distrust and hate. But in reality, it had not been nearly as bad as he had assumed.

“I got you a beer, I hope that’s okay,” Quinn told him, motioning to the slender glass filled with amber colored liquid with a generous foam head resting before him.

Grant managed a somewhat tired smile, reaching for the beer gratefully.

“This is perfect. Thank you.” He sipped, pleased to note she had chosen a brew he would have easily picked for himself.