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“Circumstantial evidence,” she said, sounding like the lawyer’s daughter she’d been. Then she shrugged, and those glittering crystals dazzled beneath the soft light of the chandelier. “You’re going to have to do better than that. Who says what I’m wearing has anything to do with you?”
“We did. You and me. Fourteen years ago.”
He waited for her expression to betray her resistance, for a hint of what had transpired between them so long ago to show on her porcelain face. They’d loved one another once. Not romantic love, but something quite different. Something deeper.
Or so he’d thought.
She blinked but kept on looking at him like he was the one who was acting nuts. “I don’t know what in the world you’re talking about.”
He had to give her credit. She was doing a good job of feigning innocence. A great job, actually.
Zander took a step closer. He didn’t want to humiliate her in front of Manhattan’s glittering elite. He just wanted to put a stop to things once and for all. If he was being honest, he also wanted her to leave. The sooner the better.
He’d grown accustomed to life without her. Things were simpler now. Rational. Predictable. Sure, it had been hard at first. There had been times when he’d closed his eyes and still seen her wild thicket of dark hair and those legs that seemed to go on forever as she struck a ballroom-dance pose. And maybe the warm vanilla scent of her perfume had lingered on his favorite sweatshirt for a time after she’d gone. But eventually it had faded away.
As had his questions.
Why had she left without saying goodbye? Why hadn’t she ever come back, even for a visit?
Had she missed him the way he’d missed her?
He didn’t want to ask those questions anymore, but if she stayed too long, he would. He knew he would. And he wasn’t altogether sure he’d like the answers.
After the accident, she’d gone to live with her aunt in Cambridge. That much he knew. But Boston was just a train ride away. He’d never for a moment suspected she’d gone away for good.
Zander lowered his voice. “You can stop pretending, Allegra. We both know the truth. You’re here because of our deal.”
She frowned. “What deal?”
If Zander hadn’t known better, he’d have thought she’d actually forgotten. But that wasn’t possible. Was it?
Of course not.
Still, her acting skills had improved since her disastrous audition for the eighth-grade play. She’d cried in Zander’s arms for hours after school that day.
He swallowed. “The deal we made to marry one another if we were still unattached by our thirtieth birthdays.”
“Oh.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t remember that at all.”
Zander stared. If Guy Lombardo’s orchestra had appeared out of nowhere and begun to play “Happy Birthday to You,” he’d have been less surprised. She wasn’t here because of their deal. She didn’t even remember it.
Unbelievable.
“Are you sure you didn’t have that arrangement with somebody else? Gretchen Williams, maybe?” Allegra said.
“Gretchen Williams?” She couldn’t be serious. He’d gone out with Gretchen exactly three times, and that had been three times too many. Besides, the last he’d heard, Gretchen had moved to Connecticut and had five kids. She hadn’t needed a backup plan. “Absolutely not. It was you.”
It was always you.
Zander’s temples throbbed. He needed to get out of here.
But this was his place of business. He practically lived here. Disappearing wasn’t an option. Besides, wasn’t that Allegra’s specialty?
“I see.” Allegra’s voice went soft, and she looked at him for a long silent moment. And somehow the silence between them seemed more truthful than anything they’d yet to say to one another.
Zander had the sudden urge to reach for her, to pull her into his arms and greet her the way he should have the moment she’d walked through the door. When she’d gone away all those years ago, her absence had just about killed him. He’d missed her, damn it. He still did, even after all this time.
Then Zander’s cousin Ryan appeared at his side. The fact that Ryan was wearing his serious hotel-management face rather than his party-going-family-member face ensured that whatever sentimental moment Zander and Allegra might be on the verge of sharing was officially ruined.
Ryan cleared his throat. “Zander, I hate to interrupt. But we’ve got a problem. A big one.”
“Right.” Zander nodded. He couldn’t decide if he should curse the interruption or be grateful for it. He gave Allegra a tight smile. “It was good to see you again. My apologies for the misunderstanding.”
Then he turned his back on Allegra Clark without waiting for an explanation or even a goodbye. After all, parting words had never been their strong suit.
* * *
The sight of Zander’s retreating pinstripes jarred something loose inside Allegra. Something that almost made her knees buckle. Something that made her feel dangerously close to coming apart at the seams.
She took a deep breath and counted to ten as she watched him walk away. He murmured something to the man beside him, strode past the untouched cake and disappeared through the ballroom’s gilded double doors.
He’d walked right out of his own birthday party without so much as an apology. Or even an explanation.
Typical suit.
Allegra couldn’t remember any of her own birthday parties that hadn’t been interrupted in a similar fashion. Until she’d turned sixteen, obviously. On her sweet sixteen, she would have given anything to have her father there, kissing her cheek as he dashed off to some kind of work emergency.
Her throat grew tight. She squared her shoulders, slipped out of the ballroom and marched toward the registration desk. She’d managed to walk out on her own wedding today without shedding a tear. She would not let a brief encounter with Zander Wilde reduce her to a weepy mess.
Anyway, she was perfectly fine. She’d just been rattled to see him after so many years, which was totally normal. There was nothing to be emotional about at all as far as Zander was concerned.
Except that he thought you’d come back to marry him, of all things.
“Can I help you?” The young man behind the registration desk beamed at her. “Let me guess—you’re checking into the honeymoon suite?”
“Um, no.” She shuddered. “Definitely not.”
“Oh.” He glanced at her dress. Allegra couldn’t wait to take off the horrid thing. She just wanted to wrap herself up in one of the hotel’s thick terry-cloth robes, climb into bed and sleep for a while. A century, maybe. “Well, uh, how can I assist you, then?”
“I just need a room.” Before he could ask, she added, “A single, not a double.”
He frowned. “For just one person?”
Allegra sighed. Mightily. “Yes.”
He nodded but still managed to look utterly perplexed. Too bad. “May I ask the name on the reservation?”
“I don’t have one.”
“No reservation?” His frown deepened. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any single rooms available without a reservation.”
This day kept getting better and better. “Fine. I’ll take a double.”
But the desk clerk wasn’t any more accommodating. “I’m afraid we don’t have any double rooms available either.”
Allegra’s heart started beating hard again. This couldn’t be happening.
“Fine. I’ll take the honeymoon suite.” Desperate times called for desperate measures, and these were indeed desperate times.
The hotel clerk shrugged. He was really beginning to get on Allegra’s nerves. “That room is booked, as well. We’re completely full. Without a reservation, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
“Full? Full? As in there’s not a room of any kind available?” It couldn’t be true. Where on earth would she go? What was she supposed to do? Go marching back into her wedding to ask her erstwhile fiancé for a ride to the airport?
Even if the hotel clerk took pity on her and came up with a room, she had no way to pay for it. She’d walked out of the ceremony with nothing but her bridal bouquet. She wasn’t even sure where her purse—and her wallet full of credit cards—was at the moment.
Why had she agreed to get married in Manhattan?
She should have insisted on a nice, simple ceremony in Cambridge, where she and Spencer actually lived. How had she let herself get talked into coming back here?
Because Spencer was a politician, that’s why. He’d wanted a big, splashy wedding, one that would look good in all the newspapers. A grand show. Allegra just hadn’t realized she was nothing but a prop.
How could she have been so monumentally stupid?
“We’re completely booked.” The clerk gave her a sympathetic smile, and something inside Allegra died just a little. “Can I do anything else for you? Call a car, perhaps?”
Behind her, someone chimed in. “That won’t be necessary.”
Allegra spun around and found herself face-to-face with Zander’s mother. Emily Wilde wasn’t exactly the first person she wanted to chat with after the oddly uncomfortable encounter she’d just had with Zander. But it was definitely preferable to talking to Zander himself. “Mrs. Wilde, hello.”
“Since when do you call me Mrs. Wilde? I’m Emily, remember?” The older woman gave her a warm smile. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was just on my way out since it seems the birthday party has ended, and I overheard.”
“I was trying to get a room, but it seems the hotel is booked.”
“Winter in New York is always a busy time of year. But, of course, you know that.” Emily tilted her head. “Isn’t your birthday right around the corner? I seem to remember it being during the snowy season.”
Indeed it was. Just two weeks away. Allegra’s thirtieth, which meant if she’d ever made that ancient deal with Zander, they still had fourteen days to make good on it. Not that they’d made any such arrangement. And not that she’d ever in a million years marry the man.
When had he turned into such a grump? And what was he doing running a hotel? The Zander she knew wanted to run the family business someday. The Wilde School of Dance. She’d have been less surprised to see him starring in a Broadway play than strutting around wearing a business suit, surrounded by minions.
Zander Wilde’s profession should be the least of your worries at the moment. You’re homeless, and the only article of clothing you own is a wedding gown.
“Allegra, you don’t look well.” Emily pressed a hand to Allegra’s forehead. “You need to lie down, dear.”
Allegra nodded. Emily was right. She’d never needed to rest so much in her life. She felt like she’d been running for the better part of fourteen years. In a way, she supposed she had. But it wasn’t as if she could just curl up on the sofa in the hotel lobby.
Could she?
No, of course she couldn’t. She’d probably get in trouble. Or even arrested. She let out a hysterical laugh. Wouldn’t that be the perfect ending to this horrible day? To have Zander call the cops on her.
Zander Wilde, who thought she’d been pining away for him since the day she’d left town.
“You’ll stay with me,” Emily said as matter-of-factly as if she’d just offered Allegra a stick of gum rather than a roof over her head.
“What?” Allegra shook her head. “Oh, no, I couldn’t...”
But Emily had already removed her coat and was wrapping it around Allegra’s shoulders as she led her toward the revolving door. “Of course you can. How many afternoons did you come home with us after dance class when you were a girl?”
More than Allegra could count. “But things are different now.” She slowed to a stop two feet from the exit. “Emily, I can’t. I’m afraid that might upset Zander. We had a disagreement a few minutes ago.”
“I heard.” Emily nodded. “Half of Manhattan heard, actually.”
Fabulous. Just fabulous.
“It doesn’t matter what Zander thinks. It’s my house, not his.” Emily gave Allegra’s waist a gentle squeeze. “And if you don’t mind my saying, it doesn’t really look like you have a lot of options.”
She didn’t. Zero, in fact.
“Allegra, dear. I can’t leave you here all alone. I owe it to your mom and dad to see that you’re taken care of.” Emily’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Come on home.”
At the mention of her parents, the last shreds of Allegra’s resistance crumbled. She didn’t have the strength to fight the past. Not tonight. Not now.
Come on home.
She wanted nothing more than to go home, if only she knew how to get there.
Chapter Three (#uc4a3fe3c-87dc-516b-9a15-605c6a5dc35d)
Zander stared at Ryan sitting in one of the wingback chairs opposite his desk and tried to wrap his mind around the bomb his cousin had just dropped. “A reporter called here to ask whether or not the hotel has been cursed?”
This was a first. Zander was no stranger to New York’s tabloid press. He was fully aware of how brutal it could be. But a curse? That seemed beyond ridiculous, even for a rag like the Post or the Daily News.
“She wasn’t asking exactly.” Ryan frowned. “She’s going to run with it.”
Zander released a tense exhale. He didn’t need this kind of complication. Today of all days. He was still a little rattled after his encounter with Allegra. A lot rattled, frankly. Mainly by her assertion that she didn’t even remember their marriage pact.
Then why the wedding gown?
“Fine.” He needed a drink. A real drink. No more birthday champagne. A martini, maybe. Something potent enough to eradicate the memory of the past half hour of his life, if such a drink existed. “A single negative tabloid article won’t kill us, even one that says we’re cursed. At least they get points for creativity.”
He waited for the pained look on Ryan’s face to relax a little.
It didn’t. If anything, the crease between his cousin’s brows deepened.
“It’s not a tabloid,” Ryan said. Then he uttered the only three words powerful enough to tear Zander’s thoughts away from Allegra Clark dressed in bridal white tulle. “It’s the Times.”
This had to be a bad joke. The New York Times had won more Pulitzer Prizes than any other paper in the world. “Good one. You almost had me. But the Gray Lady is a New York institution. It’s a serious publication. They’d never run a story about a hotel being cursed.”
“Think again.” Ryan lifted a sardonic eyebrow. “The Society section would.”
