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“He just had a damned good attorney,” Victor grumbled, snagging his jacket from the back of his chair. “But that’s over and done with.”
“Then why’re you still paranoid?”
“I’m not paranoid,” he snapped. “Just careful. Come on, I’ve got to check things out at the marina, see that the repairs on the Vanessa are up to snuff. We can talk on the way.”
“Okay,” she muttered, barely holding on to her temper. “But you can’t just toss my resignation into the trash and expect me to forget all about it. I’m serious, Dad.”
“You don’t know what you want.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said quietly.
The firmness in her tone must have caught his attention. His head snapped up and for the first time since he’d entered the office, he seemed to see her as she really was. His lips pursed tightly and beneath his tan his skin took on a paler hue. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice much lower.
He didn’t even bother changing from his casual pants and sports coat.
In tense silence they strode abreast through the corridors to the elevator. Marnie barely kept herself from quaking at his anger. He was a handsome man, a man who accepted authority easily. His features were oversized, his hair thick and white with only a few remaining dark strands, his eyes intense blue, his nose aristocratic. For a man pushing sixty he was in good shape, with only the trace of a paunch near his waist-line. And right now he was beginning to seethe.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” he said when the elevator doors had whispered shut and with a lurch the car sped down sixteen floors only to jerk to a stop at the subterranean parking lot.
“I just think it’s time I stood on my own.”
“All of a sudden?”
She slid a glance in his direction. “It’s been coming on a long time.”
“Ever since that business with Drake,” he surmised with disgust.
“Before that,” she insisted, though it was true that nothing had been the same since Adam Drake had been fired. There had been a change in attitude in the offices of Montgomery Inns. Nothing tangible. Just a loss of company spirit and confidence. Everyone felt it—including Victor, though, of course, he was loathe to admit it.
“And then you decided to break up with Kent,” her father went on, shaking his head as he searched the pocket of his jacket for his pipe. “And now you want to leave the corporation, just walk away from a fortune. When I was your age, I was—”
“—working ten-hour days and still going to night school, I know,” Marnie cut in. Her heels clicked loudly against the concrete. Low-hanging pipes overhead dripped condensation, and she had to duck to escape the steady drops as she hurried to keep up with her father’s swift strides.
She stopped at the fender of Victor’s Jaguar. He unlocked the doors and they both slid into the cushy interior.
“You should be grateful…”
Marnie closed her eyes. How could she explain the feeling that she was trapped? That she needed a life of her own? That she had to prove herself by standing on her own two feet? “I am grateful, Dad. Really.” Turning to face him, she forced a wan smile. “This is just something I have to do—”
“Right now? Can’t it wait?” he asked, as if sensing her beginning to weaken.
“No.”
“But the new hotel is opening next week. I need you there. You’re in charge of public relations, for God’s sake.”
“And I have a capable assistant. You remember Todd Byers—blond, wears glasses—”
Victor waved off her explanation.
“Well, if he’s not good enough I have a whole department to cover for me.” That was what bothered her most. She didn’t feel needed. If she walked away from Montgomery Inns, no one, save Victor, would notice. Even Kent would get by without her.
Her father fired up the engine and shoved the Jag into reverse. “I don’t understand you anymore.” With a flip of the steering wheel, he headed for the exit. “What is it you really want?”
“A life of my own.”
“You have one. A life most women would envy.”
“I know,” she admitted, her spine stiffening a bit. How could she reach a man who had worked all his life creating an empire? A man who had raised her alone, a man who loved her as much as he possibly could? “This is just something I have to do.”
He waved to the lot’s attendant, then nosed the Jag into the busy streets of downtown Seattle. “A few weeks ago you were planning to marry Kent,” he pointed out as he joined the traffic easing toward the waterfront. Marnie felt a familiar stab of pain. “But now, all of a sudden, Kent’s not good enough. It doesn’t matter that he’s practically my right-hand man—”
“No, it doesn’t,” she said swiftly. Surprisingly, her voice was still steady.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened between you two?” he suggested. “It’s all tied up with this whole new independence kick, isn’t it?”
Marnie didn’t answer. She didn’t want to think about Kent, nor the fact that she’d found him with Dolores Tate, his secretary. Rather than dwell on Kent’s betrayal, Marnie stared at the car ahead of them. Two fluffy Persian cats slept on the back window ledge and a bright red bumper sticker near the back plates asked, Have You Hugged Your Cat Today?
Funny, she thought sarcastically, she hadn’t hugged anyone in a long, long while. And no one had hugged her. At that thought a lump settled in her throat, and she wrapped her arms around herself, determined not to cry. Not today. Not on this, the very first step toward her new life.
Victor switched lanes, jockeying for position as traffic clogged. “While we’re on the subject of Kent—”
“We’re not.”
“He loves you.”
Marnie knew better. “Let’s just leave Kent out of this, okay?”
For once, her father didn’t argue. Rubbing the back of his neck he shook his head, as if he could release some of the tension tightening his shoulder blades. He slid her a sidelong glance as they turned into the marina. Fishing boats, sloops, yachts and cabin cruisers were tied to the piers. Whitecaps dotted the surface of the restless sound, and only a few sailing vessels braved the overcast day. Lumbering tankers moved slowly inland, while ferries churned frothy wakes, cutting through the dark water as they crossed the water.
Her father parked the Jag near the pier and cut the engine. “I can see I’m not going to change your mind,” he said, slanting her a glance that took in the thrust of her jaw and the determination in her gaze. As if finally accepting the fact that she was serious, he snorted, “God knows I don’t understand it, but if you think you’ve got to leave the company for a while, I’ll try to muddle through without you.”
“For a while?” she countered. “I resigned, remember?”
He held up his hands, as if in surrender. “One step at a time, okay? Let’s just call this…sabbatical…of yours, a leave of absence.”
She wanted to argue, but didn’t. Maybe he needed time to adjust. Her leaving, after all, was as hard on him as it was on her.
Her expression softened, and she touched his arm. “You and Montgomery Inns will survive.”
“Lord, I hope so,” he murmured. “But I’m not accepting anything official like a resignation. And I want you to wait just a couple of weeks, until Puget West opens. That’s not too much to ask, is it?” he queried, pocketing his keys as they both climbed out of the car.
Together, hands shoved in the pockets of their coats, they walked quickly along the time-weathered planks of the waterfront. Marnie breathed in the scents of the marina. She’d grown up around boats, and the odors of salt and seaweed, brine and diesel brought back happy childhood memories of when her father had taken as much interest in her as he had in his company. Things had changed, of course. She’d gone to college, hadn’t needed him so much, and Montgomery Inns had developed into a large corporation with hotels stretched as far away as L.A. and Houston.
A stiff breeze snapped the flags on the moored vessels. High overhead sea gulls wheeled, their desolate cries barely audible over the sounds of throbbing engines. Free, she thought, smiling at the birds, they’re free. And lonely.
Her father grumbled, “Next thing I know you’ll be trading in your Beemer for a ‘69 Volkswagen.”
She smothered a sad smile. He didn’t know that she’d sold the BMW just last week, though she wasn’t in the market for a VW bug—well, at least not yet.
“So it’s settled, right?” he said, as if grateful to have finished a drawn-out negotiation. “When you get back, we’ll talk.”
“And if I still want to quit?”
“Then we’ll talk some more.” He fiddled in his pocket for his tobacco, stuffed a wad into the bowl of his pipe, and clamping the pipe between his teeth, searched in his pockets for a match. Trying to light the pipe, he walked quickly down the pier where his yacht, the Vanessa, was docked. “Maybe by the time you think things over, you’ll come to your senses about Kent.”
“I already have,” she said, controlling the fury that still burned deep inside her. Kent had played her for a fool; he wouldn’t get a second chance.
“Okay, okay, just promise me you’ll stick around until the new hotel is open.”
“It’s a promise,” she said, catching up to him. “But you’re not talking me out of this. As soon as Puget West opens its doors, I’m history.”
“For a while.” He puffed on the pipe, sending up tiny clouds of smoke.
“Maybe,” she said, unwilling to concede too much. Her father wasn’t a bad man, just determined, especially when it came to her and his hotel chain. But she could be just as stubborn as he. She climbed aboard his favorite plaything as the wind off the sound whipped her hair in front of her face. Someday, whether he wanted to or not, Victor Montgomery would be proud of her for her independence; he just didn’t know it yet. She’d prove to him, and everyone else who thought she was just another pampered rich girl, that she could make it on her own.
According to the Seattle Observer, the grand opening of Puget West Montgomery Inn was to be the social event of the year. Invitations had been sent to the rich and the beautiful, from New York to L.A., though most of the guests were from the Pacific Northwest.
The mayor of Seattle as well as Senator Mann, the State of Washington’s reigning Republican, were to attend. Local celebrities, the press and a few Hollywood types were rumored to be on hand to sip champagne and congratulate Victor Montgomery on the latest and most glittery link in the ever-expanding chain of Montgomery Inns.
Adam Drake wasn’t invited.
In fact, he was probably the last person good old Victor wanted to see walk through the glass doors of the main lobby. But Victor was in for the surprise of his life, Adam thought with a grim smile. Because Adam wouldn’t have missed the grand opening of Puget West for the world!
As the prow of his small boat sliced through the night-blackened waters of Puget Sound, he guided the craft toward his destination, the hotel itself. Lit like the proverbial Christmas tree, twenty-seven stories of Puget West rose against a stygian sky.
Wind ripped over the water, blasting his bare face and hands, but Adam barely felt the cold. He was too immersed in his own dark thoughts. Anger tightened a knot in his gut. He’d helped design this building; hell, he’d even outbid a Japanese investor for the land, all for the sake of Montgomery Inns and Victor Montgomery!
And he’d been kicked in the face for his efforts—framed for a crime he’d never committed. Well, he’d just spent the past three weeks of his life dredging up all the evidence again, talking with even the most obscure employees who had once worked for the company, and he’d started to unravel the web of lies, one string at a time. He didn’t have all the answers, just vague suspicions, but he was hell-bent to prove them true. Only then would he be able to get on with his own life.
And never again would he depend upon a man like Victor Montgomery for his livelihood. From this point on, Adam intended to be his own boss.
Close to the docks, Adam cut the boat’s engine and slung ropes around the moorings. Before he could second-guess himself, he hopped onto the new deck and walked briskly beneath the Japanese lanterns glowing red, green and orange. Tiny crystal lights, twinkling as if it were the holiday season instead of the end of May, winked in the shrubbery.
His jaw tightened, and a cruel smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he considered his reasons for showing up uninvited. Adrenaline surged through his veins. What was the phrase—revenge was always best when it was served up cold?
He’d soon find out.
Nearly a year had passed since he’d been hung by his heels in public, humiliated and stripped bare, and tonight he’d seek his own form of justice.
Thunder cracked over the angry waters, and Adam cast one final look at the inky sound. He found poetic justice in the fact that a spring storm was brewing on the night Victor Montgomery was opening his latest resort.
He didn’t waste any time. The pant legs of his tuxedo brushed against the wet leaves of blossoming rhododendrons and azaleas as he walked briskly, moving instinctively toward the side entrance and the French doors he knew would be unlocked and, with any luck, unguarded.
Music and laughter floated through the night as he stepped onto the terrace. Through the open doors, he saw that the party was in full swing, bejeweled guests talking, dancing, laughing and drinking from monogrammed fluted glasses.
Adam tugged on his tight black tie, plowed his fingers through his wind-tossed hair, then slipped into the opulent foyer. No one seemed to notice. As a liveried waiter passed, Adam snagged a glass of champagne from a silver tray and scoped out the milling guests.
A piano player sat at a shiny baby grand, and the nostalgic notes of “As Time Goes By” drifted through the crowd. Silver and red balloons, tied together with long white ribbons, floated dreamily to the windowed ceiling four stories above the foyer. Near the back wall a glass elevator carried guests to the balconies surrounding the lobby, and on the opposite wall an elegant staircase curved upward to the second story. In the center of the room, the trademark Montgomery fountain, complete with marble base, spouted water eight feet high.
Oh, yes, this hotel was just as grand as Victor Montgomery had envisioned it, the opening party already a success. Adam tamped down any trace of bitterness as he wandered through the crowd. It took a cool mind to get even.
In one corner of the lobby near a restaurant, a ten-foot ice sculpture of King Neptune, trident aloft, sea monsters curling in the waves near his feet, stood guard.
Just like good old Victor, Adam thought to himself as he spied Kate Delany, Victor’s administrative assistant and, as rumor had it, lover. Dressed in shimmering white, her dark hair piled high on her head, Kate acted as hostess. Her smile was practiced but friendly, and her eyes sparkled enough to invite conversation as she drifted from one knot of guests to the next.
Scanning the crowd, Adam decided Victor hadn’t made his grand entrance yet. Nor had his daughter. He looked again, hoping for a glimpse of Marnie. Spoiled, rich, beautiful Marnie Montgomery was the one possession Victor valued more than his damned hotels. An only child, she’d been pampered, sent to the best schools and given the post of “public-relations administrator” upon graduation from some Ivy League school back east.
Despite his bitterness toward anything loosely associated with Montgomery Inns, Adam had found Marnie appealing. Regardless of her lap-of-leisure upbringing, there had been something—a spark of laughter in her eyes, a trace of wistfulness in her smile, an intelligence in her wit and a mystique to her silences—which had half convinced him that she was more than just another rich brat coddled by an overindulgent father and raised by nannies. Tall and slender, with pale blond hair and eyes a clear crystal blue, Marnie was as hauntingly beautiful as she was wealthy. And as he understood it, she’d become engaged to Kent Simms, one of Victor’s “yes” men.
Bad choice, Marnie, Adam thought as he took a long swallow of champagne. Maybe he’d been kidding himself all along. Marnie Montgomery was probably cut from the same expensive weave of cloth as was her father.
Kent Simms fit into the picture neatly. Too ambitious for his own good, Kent was more interested in the fast lane and big bucks than in loving a wife. Even if she happened to be the boss’s daughter. The marriage wouldn’t last.
But Kent Simms was Marnie’s problem. Adam had his own.
He heard a gasp behind him. From the corner of his eye he caught the quickly averted look of a wasp-thin woman with dark eyes and a black velvet dress.
So she recognizes me, he thought in satisfaction, and lifted his champagne glass in silent salute to her. Her name was Rose Trullinger, and she was an interior decorator for the corporation.
Rose’s cheeks flooded with color, and she turned quickly away before casting a sharp glance over her shoulder and heading toward a group of eight or nine people lingering around the bar.
Adam watched as she whispered something to a woman draped in blue silk and dripping with diamonds. The woman in blue turned, lifted a finely arched brow and sent Adam a curious look. There was more than mild amusement in her eyes. Adam noticed an invitation. Some women were attracted to men who were considered forbidden or dangerous. The woman in blue was obviously one of those.
She whispered something to Rose.
Perfect, Adam thought with a grim twist of his lips. It wouldn’t be long before Victor knew he was here.
Chapter Two
Marnie jabbed a glittery comb into her hair, then glowered at her reflection as the comb slid slowly down. Shaking her head, she yanked out the comb and tossed it onto the vanity. So much for glamour. She brushed her shoulder-length curls with a vengeance and eyed the string of diamonds and sapphires surrounding her throat. The necklace and matching earrings had been her mother’s; Victor had pleaded with her to wear them and she had, on this, the last night of her employment at Montgomery Inns. Just being in the new hotel made her feel like a hypocrite, but she only had a few more hours and, then, freedom!
“Marnie?” Her father tapped softly on the door connecting her smaller bedroom to the rest of his suite. “It’s about time.”
“I’ll be right out,” she replied, dreading the party. On the bed, a single suitcase lay open. She tossed her comb, brush and makeup bag into the soft-sided case and snapped it shut.
Sliding into a pair of silver heels, she opened the door to find her father, a drink in one hand, pacing near the door. He glanced up as she entered the room, and the smile that creased his face was filled with genuine admiration. He swallowed and blinked. “I really hadn’t realized how much you look like Vanessa,” he said quietly.
Marnie felt an inner glow. He was complimenting her. Her father had never gotten over his wife and he’d vowed on her grave that he’d never remarry. And he hadn’t. Even though Kate Delany had been in love with him for years, he wouldn’t marry her. Marnie knew it as well as she knew she herself would never marry Kent Simms.
He reached for the door but paused. “Kent’s already here.”
“I know.”
“He’s been asking to see you.”
She knew that, too. But she was through talking to Kent about anything other than business. “I don’t have anything to say to him.”
Victor tugged on his lower lip as if weighing his next words. Marnie braced herself. She knew what was coming. “Kent loves you, and he’s been with the company for ten years. That man is loyal.”
