CHAPTER 10
Will
My sister had outdone herself.
When Charlotte first started Fox Fêtes, she used to rope me into helping at weekend gigs, and I’d actually liked that better than being a guest. At least I was doing something useful. But she’d long since found a competent and reliable core staff, and only required my assistance on an emergency basis. So, since then, I’d only attended parties like this as her plus-one. She liked to show off the results of her work, so I put on the only suit I owned that wasn’t for work, and I showed up, every time. As I stood surveying the crowd gathering in the ballroom, I was charmed by her taste and proud of her success. There were a lot of happy people, and that should make for plenty of open pocket books.
I got a glimpse of my sister rushing around, and knew better than to try and bother her; we both afforded our careers single-minded focus. I didn’t want to think about how closely our jobs were intertwining at this particular event, but it was difficult not to. Especially since I saw Vaughn almost immediately—he was hard to miss, with his height and that distinctive hair. And if I’d hoped the attraction would have abated since we’d last seen each other, the speed with which my eyes found him killed that hope.
I’d never seen a man wear a suit quite like Amory Vaughn, and this might have been my favorite so far—the light gray perfectly setting off his pale features and that silver-white hair. He was wearing a vest, which sent my mind back to that afternoon in his office for the thousandth time, when it had gotten in the way of me stripping him naked as fast as I’d wanted. I vaguely remembered popping buttons off his shirt as I was getting it off him. I’d nearly sent him an email offering to pay for the repairs, but realized it was a thinly-veiled excuse to speak to him and certainly did not convey the message of We’re through that I’d made clear when I’d left.
My table was full of people I didn’t know, and I was content to introduce myself as Charlotte’s brother, answer curious questions about my job, and eat the outstanding food. Charlotte had a place at the table, but she only stopped by sporadically, far too involved with the proceedings to sit down and eat.
“Vaughn gave her a spot so that she’d enjoy herself,” the woman who had introduced herself as Eliza Hayes, a fundraiser for a veterans’ arts program, said with a fond smile. “He knows that no true event planner can rest until the party’s over though.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been to a party where the event planner is able to relax and enjoy herself,” said her husband.
“Well, you know Vaughn,” Eliza said with a wave of her hand. “He’s got as many manners as millions. At the Pause For Paws fundraiser, I saw him have words with the host after he berated the caterer in front of everyone for not having enough appetizers.” She laughed. “Of course, Vaughn did it quietly so none of us knew exactly what he said, but I’m sure it was politely withering.”
I smiled at this story because I knew I was expected to, but the picture of Vaughn as a white knight was one that I desperately wanted to be true. The first course was served: a light mushroom gazpacho, dotted with truffle cream and brightened with a splash of fig vinegar. As people ate, I was subjected to a rousing conversation of what a generous and wonderful man our host was. I kept waiting for someone to say something negative or unkind. It was difficult to keep a clear picture in my mind of Vaughn as an amoral thief when faced with evidence that complicated the story.
I’d gone to get another drink when I ran into Charlie. She was smiling and her eyes were sparkling, so I assumed things were going as well on her end as they were for the guests. “Hey, Charlie.”
“Will!” She grabbed me in an exuberant hug. “You wore the suit!”
Of course I’d worn the suit. I’d endured her taking me shopping for it, because she’d been convinced that if I wore any of my usual suits I’d make all of her guests nervous. “There’s gonna be a ton of rich people there, Will,” she’d told me. “They might think you’re investigating them for fraud or something.”
I had to admit the suit was the best I’d ever owned, and it’d had the price tag to prove it. But I didn’t look like a federal agent, so mission accomplished. Of course, that meant I’d hardly get my money’s worth out of it, because when was I going to wear a suit like this again if not to work?
“You look great,” my sister enthused, and then a calculating look crossed her face. “In fact, hey, come with me.”
“Charlie—”
It was no use. She was a force of nature, tugging me along with her through the crowd, and I knew exactly what was going to happen. Sure enough, we stopped when she’d found her target…the absolute last person I wanted to see.
“Mr. Vaughn,” said my sister, all charm and professional friendliness, “I wanted to introduce you to my brother and my plus-one, Will.”
I tried not to glare at her. She knew very well Vaughn and I had met before, though I’d played it off as having been a brief introduction at Oakley’s. “We’ve met,” I said, aware I sounded just as terse as my sister did friendly.
“Indeed we have,” Vaughn said.
I tried not to hear his voice in my ear as he fucked me—telling me how he was going to think about making me beg when he was at work the next Monday—but failed. I wondered if he had.
“Nice to see you again, William.”
I almost—almost—said, “It’s Agent Fox.” But this was a career coup for Charlie and I wouldn’t ruin it for her. Still. He didn’t get to win that easy. “You too, Amory.”
His eyebrows raised a bit, and there was a sparkle in his pale eyes. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself. Your sister has exceeded all of my expectations and ruined me for other event planners.” Vaughn directed that charming smile at Charlie, and despite how easily I knew he could lie, there was nothing disingenuous in his voice at all.
Charlie fairly glowed from the praise. “I’m so glad you’re happy,” she said, beaming.
Vaughn lifted his glass to her. “More than. I confess I’m intrigued by what you might come up with next. We’ll have to talk about my schedule in a week or so, when you’re recovered from tonight.”
Part of me wanted to punch Vaughn for ingratiating himself with the one person who was always on my side, and another part wanted to thank him for how happy he’d made Charlotte. Instead I just nodded politely and avoided shooting Charlotte a dirty look when she “suddenly” had to take care of something and left me there with Vaughn.
I steeled myself for whatever tactical maneuvering was about to take place, and was somewhat surprised when Vaughn simply smiled at me—not the genuine smile he’d given Charlotte, but one I’d seen him give strangers—and said politely, “If you’ll excuse me, Agent Fox, I have a speech to give.”
An unexpected rush of disappointment sluiced through me, and my feet felt like they’d sprouted roots that dug into the floor. Why was I reacting this way? Wasn’t this what I’d wanted? For him to back off. But now that he was doing it, I found I didn’t like it one bit. Jesus Christ, I needed to get out of here.
I was debating what you were supposed to say to someone who was going to give a speech—was it Break a leg?—when he said, “That is a wonderful color on you, by the way.”
My eyes flew to his. That sounded almost…regretful.
“Thanks,” I said, and then, “You look…well. You know. Very, uh. Put together.”
And there, finally, was that genuine smile. Of course, it would be accompanied by laughter at my expense.
I scowled, and said, “Good luck with the speech,” before turning on my heel and walking away. I hated how he fucked with my equilibrium, and for the first time I had to consider the mixed signals I was giving him. Threatening to arrest him one moment, bending over his desk the next.
I returned to the table just as Vaughn started to speak. The microphone amplified his deep, rich drawl, and hearing it in stereo was almost as good as hearing it low in my ear. I was hard under the table and completely unable to look away from him.
“I’d like to thank you all for coming this evening,” he said, smiling. “I hope you are enjoying yourselves and that you will continue to do so. I’d like to thank Ms. Charlotte Fox, of Fox Fêtes, for making this such a lovely affair.” He started clapping, and we all followed suit.
I wondered, probably uncharitably, if he’d be doing this if I weren’t here. And the problem—the thing that was unbalancing me so completely—was that I believed he would. The simple truth of Vaughn’s generosity, demonstrated here after I’d heard stories of it all night, made me take a bracing gulp of my whiskey as my resolve to end whatever this was between us waned dangerously.
“After dessert, we’ll be having an auction to raise money for the Willowbrook capital campaign. Never fear, we’ve found someone more adept at these sorts of things than me. I’ve been told I talk far too slowly to be an effective auctioneer.”
There was some good-natured laughter as Vaughn talked briefly about the items to be auctioned off, mostly expensive vacation homes.
“We certainly don’t want anyone feeling left out, so please, do feel free to simply hold up your signifier”—he raised his paddle, fashioned in the shape of a cozy cabin, identical to the ones we all had at our tables—“if you’d like to donate without bidding after the auction. And thank you, again, for your generosity. The Vaughn Foundation prides itself on being supportive of the arts, and that includes the next generation of artists to come. We also have students from the Willowbrook art department here, who have generously donated some of their own work tonight. No doubt they are the rising stars in our midst, so take the opportunity to acquire their work before it’s only available at Sotheby’s.”
Even though I was just another face in the crowd, I swear Vaughn’s eyes met mine.
“You’ll be getting great art at a steal, I assure you.”
It should have made me mad. It should have reminded me of everything that Amory Vaughn was, beyond the money and the manners. It should have reminded me that I had been absolutely correct when I’d called him a liar.
Instead, I laughed. I couldn’t help it.
It was the beginning of the end of my resistance, and I knew it.
The auction was hugely successful, and while I didn’t participate—even the student art was out of my price range—it was more fun than I thought it would be. The auctioneer was a local celebrity who I didn’t recognize but had the crowd excited, and I contributed a donation simply because I wanted the novelty of using my paddle. There was dancing after the auction, but I was far less inclined to participate in that. So I sat and drank my excellent whiskey while toasting marshmallows, and pretended I wasn’t scanning the room for Vaughn.
Charlotte finally collapsed next to me, when the dancing was in full swing and the last plate had been cleared. She looked exhausted but happy. “Ugh, this went so well, I can’t believe it. I almost couldn’t sleep the last three days. I kept dreaming something would go wrong.”
“It didn’t,” I said, and toasted her with my glass. “So you can get a good night’s sleep tonight, yeah?”
“Yeah.” She gave a satisfied smile and leaned back in her seat. “I was mostly worried they wouldn’t make the goal, you know? Like, how awful would that be? I’m hired for this event and it doesn’t raise enough money.”
“That would hardly be your fault,” I said, but I wasn’t surprised that she’d worried about it. We both had a tendency to take responsibility for things we shouldn’t. “And besides, it raised the amount and then some.”
She nodded. “Yup, and—” She glanced around, then leaned in and whispered. “Also, I’m not supposed to let this get out, but one of the Vaughn Foundation employees heard me talking to Forrest, the head caterer, about how I was nervous about them not raising the money. He said not to worry—that Mr. Vaughn didn’t want it to be public knowledge, but he’d make sure of it. As in, if they didn’t raise enough money, he’d just donate the rest himself. He’s done it three or four times, apparently. Isn’t that nice?”
It was nice. And I’d had enough whiskey that I could admit it.
“He’s a nice man. Kinda weird. And you’re right, he does sort of look like Lucius Malfoy.” She giggled. “But it’s great there are people like him in the world, you know?”
“Rich people who want to throw elaborate parties?”
Charlotte hit me lightly on the arm. “People who care enough about something to put their money where their mouth is,” she said. “He’s apparently a huge art lover, has this great art collection. And it was totally his idea to take the paintings that didn’t sell at the student art show and auction them off for the scholarship, after he bought them all, and made the last-minute addition for the students to attend the party, even though I had to pay, like, super-high prices to add some more tables and linens, not to mention up the head count for food.”
The students were the rowdy contingent on the dance floor keeping the party going, obviously fueled into soaking up every last minute by the free food and liquor. I couldn’t say I blamed them. I’d been a student once too. It didn’t surprise me Vaughn had bought the paintings he’d auctioned off, and I wondered what my lack of surprise meant.
Maybe it means you’re well aware that he’s more than just the liar you accused him of being.
I was still absolutely certain that Vaughn was behind the Oakley theft and the “prank” involving Curtis Loel’s Saska. But he’d also raised a substantial amount of money for a capital campaign, given a bunch of unknown student artists money and exposure, and it wasn’t as if this was the first time for any of it. I’d seen myself what his foundation had accomplished with him at the helm. He hadn’t stolen Oakley’s or Loel’s art for personal gain, and while I couldn’t condone what he’d done, that did make a difference.
I was still thinking about this when the lights rose, signaling that the party was over, and I shed my jacket to help Charlie pull the linens off the tables. They had to be bagged for cleaning before the rental company could remove the tables and chairs, and I knew this part was her least favorite.
She was a few tables away when Vaughn went over to her and firmly insisted she stop and take a break. “I can take these off the tables just as easily as you can, Ms. Fox,” he said. “You should eat something, since I’m fairly certain you haven’t.”
“I had dessert,” my sister replied. “And, Mr. Vaughn, this is what you hired me for.”
“I hired you to throw a wonderful party and you did,” he said. “Now go sit, and let me finish this. I absolutely insist. And it’s just Vaughn, please.”
“Then you can call me just Charlotte,” my sister said with a smile, and after another protest, she went to the kitchen. The sight of Vaughn, also stripped of his jacket, working alongside the staff, made up my mind. And maybe the whiskey helped. I doubted Vaughn would approach me again; not after the way I’d responded the last time. So if I wanted something to happen, it was up to me.
I bagged my linens, then walked over and held the bag open for Vaughn to deposit his. “I’d like to have a word, if I might.”
He was surprised, I could tell, and he looked tired too. I wondered who he really was, Amory Vaughn. I wondered if he even knew anymore.
“I’m all ears, William,” he said as he deposited the linens in the bag. Together, we moved to the next table.
“I said something to you that I want to apologize for,” I said slowly. “The last time I saw you.”
“You don’t think I look put together?”
I blinked, until I realized he was referring to our brief conversation before his speech. “No, in your office. When I called you a liar.”
“Ah.” He studied me, pale eyes wary. He’d known what I meant.
“That was…maybe a bit harsh of me,” I said.
The linens had all been stripped and there was no one left in the ballroom but us, and the absence of the energy was strangely tangible.
“It’s just, you have to understand the problem I have here. You’re a thief—yes, fine, maybe you didn’t do it for selfish reasons but you still did it, and don’t you dare tell me that you didn’t. But also don’t tell me that you did, because as much as I want to know how the fuck you walked out of Oakley’s house with that painting, I can’t know that. I can’t.”
Vaughn opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, and leaned back against the table. He crossed his arms, looking elegant and fuckable in that vest and his starched shirt, and I fought the urge to tear this one off him, as I had in his office.
“I don’t get you,” I said, finally. “I don’t know who you are—the man who raises millions of dollars for charity, or the man who steals things, seemingly for fun. Even if the people you stole from are odious pricks,” I muttered. I held up my hand, realizing I’d maybe had more to drink than I thought. “I’m not excusing your behavior. And I don’t understand it.”
“Well,” he said, and now there was no smile, no hint of playfulness. “Maybe, just maybe, people aren’t quite as black-and-white as you seem to think they are. Me included.”
“There are things that are wrong, and things that are right, and those things are non-negotiable,” I informed him. God, why was I so bad at flirting? “Did it ever occur to you that the things you do, stealing like that, it could end up costing you the chance do all of this?” I indicated the ballroom. I half expected an argument, or some flippant response, but he remained quiet, watching me. “I’m sorry I said that to you. I don’t know what you are, not really, but I don’t think ‘liar’ is a fair assessment.” I took a deep breath. “And if you still wanted to go to dinner, you should ask me again because this time I’ll probably say yes.”
“Probably?” Vaughn frowned, but the tension in his shoulders had eased and I detected a hint of amusement in there. “I’m supposed to sacrifice my pride at being turned down for a probably?”
“Oh, take a risk, Amory.”
Something flickered in his eyes that I couldn’t read. At first I thought he was going to say no, or phrase it as a clever quip that I’d have to parry. But when he spoke, his voice was low and serious. “Have dinner with me, William.”
And, god, the way he said my name. This time I said, “Yeah, okay. But you might not want to wear a shirt with so many buttons.”