Chapter Nine

“Gwyneth!” Her mother’s demanding voice echoed up the stairwell. “Sumner and I are waiting.”

Her shoulders hunched up to her ears. Gwyn didn’t want to see her fiancé. How could she continue hiding what she’d done? Guilt twisted her insides, and she bent over to relieve the pain. If she stopped to analyze her feelings, she’d have to admit the way she left Venn—and the missing him—caused the cramping. He was so kind, so…real. He treated her as if she was special. And beautiful. Not like Sumner.

But she was marrying Sumner. She had no choice. Mildred and Gloria had planned the wedding almost since Gwyn’s birth. She’d been thrown at Sumner from puberty on. He’d done his duty, a dark, stormy expression on his face, but he’d gone his own way while she’d been sheltered.

“Gwyneth!” Sumner’s voice grated on her ears and she shuddered.

For days now, she’d stiffened her spine, playing her role perfectly, waiting for her façade to crack and her secret to spill out. He’d be so angry. He’d told her often enough that no one was allowed to touch his property.

Oh, but someone had touched her. With his hands. His mouth. His heart…everything. She’d slept in his arms and awoken smelling him on her skin, tasting him in her mouth. A whimper escaped as she stuffed a fist in her mouth to hold it in. This wasn’t a marriage. It was a merger. She was nothing but stock shares to Sumner

Gwyn had to get through the wedding rehearsal at the cathedral and then dinner for the wedding party at Milagro’s. For a brief, bitter moment, she wondered if Sumner’s mistress would be there. That thought brought another. You did nothing he hasn’t, the hussy who’d taken up residence inside her head insisted. But just because he cheated didn’t make it right for her to do so.

Memories of that night with Venn washed over her, sapping her resolve and weakening her knees. Their time together had been glorious. He made her feel beautiful. Desired. He’d left her breathless with want, and what had she done? She’d sneaked out of his apartment like a common thief, leaving him asleep in the bed where he’d ravaged her heart and soul, laying her body bare to its every desire before sating each and every one.

Gwyn considered the evening stretching interminably before her and discovered she wouldn’t really mind if Sumner’s other woman showed up. Anything to keep his clammy hands off her skin. His breath smelled of cigar smoke, and her stomach roiled each time he kissed her—even those perfunctory kisses to her cheek required whenever the paparazzi appeared. Sumner played to them like a social diva.

She could never see Venn again. He was too tempting, too…perfect. She had to marry Sumner. There was no way out.

Furious knocking jerked her attention back to the present.

“Gwyneth! What is the delay?”

“Mother, be right there.”

In the vestibule, Sumner held the fur coat he’d bought her, dropped it on her shoulders, and pushed her out the door. Music—an Irish lament—teased her ears as the scent of cloves and oranges tickled her nose.

Venn. In the shadows, tempting her. He was there, his heated gaze warming her blood. This is why she’d returned to her mother’s brownstone, to get away from him. Gwyn knew he haunted the streets around her apartment, but since her one night of freedom—of perfect bliss, Sumner had tightened the noose. She wasn’t allowed in public alone. Gwyn had hoped she could hide here, that Venn couldn’t find her, but he had.

Swallowing hard, she turned her back and slipped her arm through Sumner’s, a tear slipping from her lashes, mourning what could never be. The magic of the music caressed her cheek as she offered a final farewell. She couldn’t say the words aloud, so she whispered them in her heart.

Goodbye, my love.

****

Venn watched Gwyn get into the limousine with the prick and her bitch of a mother. Waiting until the vehicle pulled away from the curb, he turned on his heel and headed in the opposite direction. He hadn’t a clue where the happy couple was headed, but he knew where they’d be come nine o’clock.

Milagro’s was closed tonight for a private party—the rehearsal dinner for the Barrett-Riley wedding party. Venn knew the maître d’ and finagled a job with the band. He would see Gwyn no matter what. And stop this travesty of a marriage. She would still be the season’s most beautiful Christmas bride, but sweet Gwyn would be marrying him, not that prick.

At the restaurant, Venn slipped through the back door into a kitchen. Hot, yeasty bread. Saffron. Chili peppers. Roasting meat. The tang of vinegar, the kiss of burnt sugar scented the air. The chef nodded a greeting while yelling at the sou chefs.

Pots banged on stainless steel counters, a bass drum beat in counterpoint to the snare drums of clattering plates. Crystal glasses sang a siren’s song. Venn hummed along, adding harmony to all the sounds.

The other musicians were setting up in the main room of the restaurant when he stripped out of his pea coat and draped it over the back of a chair. He smiled at the band leader.

“You’re the new guy. What do you play?”

Venn didn’t alter his expression. “Anything.”

One of the band members snickered. “Yeah, right.”

Ignoring the snarky one, Venn casually sank to the piano bench at the baby grand. He riffed a few chords, listening to the tuning. Satisfied, he played. “Beethoven’s Fifth” segued into Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody.” A short bridge later, he launched into Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Proud Mary” and ended with Enya’s “Orinocco Flow.”

He indicated his duffel with a jut of his chin. “I have my violin, Irish flute, and a set of Uilleann pipes. I didn’t bring a guitar, but I can play any you might have available.”

“Dude, can you play drums?” A scruffy face peered from behind a trap set.

“Aye, I can.”

The band leader smiled. “And with that voice, I just bet you can sing.”

“A fair bit, yeah.”

“Damn. I think I’m in love, even if you have the wrong plumbing.”

Venn smirked though his expression only sported a good-natured smile. He would have kissed the man if it meant he could stay to see Gwyn, to talk to her, convince her to be with him instead of Sumner.