Queen In Play (The Manhattan Tales Book 2) (8 page)

“What is it?”  He asked, once the waiter had been dismissed.

I gave a soft smile. “I expected some sandwiches and wine in Central Park.”

  “We can do that another time,” he responded.  “Perhaps when it’s warmer and less windy.”

I gave a stiff smile, wondering if there was going to be a next time, based on how today’s date progressed.  The waiter appeared and placed a green salad with vinaigrette dressing in front of us.  I stabbed at a leaf of romaine lettuce thoughtfully. 

Mason was quiet as he assessed me.  “What are you thinking?”

I chewed quietly before I spoke.  “I am just wondering what
all of this
is for?”  I gestured to our lavish surroundings.  “I mean… you didn’t do any of this for me before.  I am just wondering what you want from me?”

I looked at him as I sipped from my champagne flute, and flinched.  I was not expecting
that
taste.  It was strong and bubbly, and I’d never tasted champagne before.

Mason appeared amused by my reaction to his champagne choice.  His light brown eyes sparkled as he studied me.  “I want
you
, Jillian.  Everything about you- from your faded jeans and Pink Floyd T-shirt down to your desire to be a social worker.”

It was a sweet sentiment, I guess, but I couldn’t buy into it so readily.  I looked at him warily.  “Why did you wait two months to decide this?” 

Mason’s eyes flared for a second, and his face hardened.

“I didn’t wait two months to decide this, Jill.” His tone was brusque.

“Why now?”

“I’ve had this decided for a long time now,” He emphasized again. Then, there was a pause as he thought to himself.  “You’re so blinded by the plan I never followed through with in the first place.  You’re convinced I couldn’t love you.”

I was very silent, deep in thought.  I knew there was truth to what he had just spoken, and I wanted very much to forgive him, but I was afraid to let him back in.  I didn’t want to be sucked in and manipulated into being some play thing all over again.  The waiter arrived and brought our main entree, which was fettuccini alfredo with parmesan crusted chicken.  This has always been one of my favorite dishes.  I couldn’t help but smile as I picked up my fork.

“I know how much you love fettuccine,” Mason grinned.

We ate in silence but I felt his eyes on me inconspicuously.  I must have been wearing my thoughts on my face.

“Say something,” he finally prompted.

I exhaled softly.  “I’m just thinking…”

“About?”  He was persistent.

“This is a really nice date.  I suppose I am just confused why you want
me
, as you say.  You didn’t want to get attached to me before, and you have a girlfriend in London.”

Mason’s fists knotted so fiercely as I said this.  His olive knuckles turned white.  The knot formed in his jaw and his eyes blazed. 
Oh, I struck a bad note…

“Aislinn is
not
my girlfriend,” Mason’s voice was tense.  He grit his teeth.

I set down my fork and looked away from him.  “The papers claim you both are the perfect couple.”

“Oh they would, wouldn’t they?”  Was he angry with me or with the papers?  The air around him was thick with tension all of a sudden.

“I didn’t mean to make you angry.  You wanted to know what I was thinking.” I was matter-of-fact in my response.  I wasn’t going to let him think he can intimidate me or have me jump through hoops.

“No, by all means- go ahead and tell me everything on your mind.”  His voice was demanding and I wasn’t in the mood to be haughty or challenging.

“You were gone for two months.  Why now?  Why did you wait two months?”

Mason’s face became red and he drained his champagne glass.  There was conflict and anguish written all over his face, and he didn’t even try to hide this from me.

“Is there someone else?”  I asked.

“I didn’t want to talk about this here,” he answered.  “I wanted this day to be special.”

I knew it.  He had another woman, or maybe he still does.
  Jealousy flared up within me at the impending confession.  I waited for it. The silence was excruciating.

“It’s my sister,” he finally spoke, after what seemed like hours.

What?

“She’s been in treatment,” he spoke slowly as though I was dragging the truth from him.  His eyes locked with mine, searching, as he spoke softly.  His voice was strained.

“She tried to take her own life.” Mason’s face was pained as he said those words.

The air was sucked from my lungs.  An anvil dropped to my stomach.  Zara had been so mean to me the one and only time I met her, but I still felt such sadness and concern from this news.  We sat in silence for a few moments as I processed what he just said.

Zara seemed to be the ideal picture of perfection in Society.  But, she tried to kill herself... 

6.  Mason Woodward

I watched her face as she absorbed what I just told her.  My father paid good money to keep this truth away from the media, but I trusted Jillian with everything in me. 

I never intended to stay away from Manhattan for as long as I had these last two months.  After Jillian’s accident down the stairs, I was determined to be at her side. She awoke still angry and hurt by what I had done, but I was going to change her mind.  I was determined to have my way, my control.  Then I saw how her blood pressure spiked in my presence. Seeing me put her in too much distress. I walked away from her hospital room with the intention of giving her some time, and then work on a better apology.

I had one short business trip to London that was required of me and was not to last more than a weekend.  My trips to London are never happy events, and that weekend mainly consisted of my father’s berating, long list of why I was a disappointment.  I lost my temper, which only matched his own temper, and thus resulted in a riotous shouting match.

2 months earlier...

The fluid notes of Tchaikovsky’s Flower Waltz flowed throughout the marbled ballroom.  A gigantic crystal chandelier displayed the lights above the dancing that took place.  I was in a foul mood from the match I’d had with my father only hours earlier, but I had to make an appearance at the evening’s event.  It was a debutante ball, or some damn thing.  I was fuming and not paying attention.

The look of hurt on Jillian’s face was still fresh in my mind, tearing open wounds.  I could not rid the image of her bruised face or her angry expression from my thoughts.  The thoughts were haunting, a never-ending plague. 

And now, I had to play nice for the sake of appearances.  A waiter, dressed in a crisp white oxford offered a glass of champagne, but I dismissed him.  I wanted something that burned.  I ordered a scotch from the open bar and downed it in one gulp.  I savored the fire that consumed my throat.  I deserved to burn. 

I spotted my parents, standing together as they laughed lightly with other members of their social circle.  I could hear the assaulting pitch of my father’s voice as he jokingly commented that the crystal chandelier above our heads was no match for the one that has been in our family for generations.

Before the burning had subsided, I ordered another scotch.  As soon as it arrived, I downed it in one swig.  The burn was a fleeting distraction that only lasted seconds…

“Easy on the drink.”  A familiar voice, one that I had not heard in quite some time, approached me from behind.  The voice was soft, and fairy-like.

I paused a moment, to enjoy the burning sting in my throat, and then turned to face her.  Aislinn Meadows stood there.  She was the picturesque model of perfect grace and elegance within my parents’ social circle.  Her blue eyes studied me as she daintily held a flute of champagne in one hand.

God, I could accidentally snap this girl in half…

She offered a friendly smile.

I returned a tight-lipped smile.

“Have you seen Zara?”  She looked around before she turned back to me.

“I assumed she was with you.  I have not seen her since I landed in Heathrow.”

“I left her a few voice messages.  I will continue trying, I suppose. It is not like her to be absent or late to these events.”  Aislinn’s face creased with quiet concern. 

Aislinn had a good point.  It was not like my sister to miss an event or cause my father to become angry by tardiness.  She always enjoyed a grand entrance, although never this late.

I pulled my mobile out to phone the household staff, but my father approached us.

“Ah, it is good to see the lovebirds out, enjoying the evening together.”  My father cajoled, and Aislinn looked away as she sipped from her flute.  Her parents were standing with my parents.  Of course this would be a tag-team effort.

“I was just mentioning to Earnest that our grandchildren will be remarkably gifted and beautiful…” 

The audacity was astounding.  Clearly, my father had one too many drinks.  Shocking.

“Excuse me,” Aislinn said quietly, and drifted away from the small gathering. 

“Dear, you are leaving so soon?”  Her mother inquired, but Aislinn did not turn to acknowledge anyone. 

I watched her, briefly, as she walked away. A small smile curled on my lips and I grew a little more respect for the woman.  She was making my father’s match-making attempts much easier on me.  I was still in a piss-poor mood and had no time for his antics.

I turned back to my parents.  “It is unfortunate you mention grandchildren, because there will be none, not unless Zara gives you a few.”

The four standing in front of me blinked.

“Sweet heart, you will have to have at least one to continue our family’s-.”

“I’ll throw myself in front of a bus before I bring a single offspring into this fucked up family,
mother
.”  I smiled politely, and then exited the conversation without excusing myself.

The gasps that erupted from Mr. and Mrs. Meadows pleased me greatly.

I pretended to follow Aislinn out of the ball room, but veered a right once I reached the cool night air outside.  I had my car pull around, and made straight for my parents’ estate. 

I decided to check on my sister in person, rather than ring the house.  She had not said a word and had not been seen by much of anyone for the last twenty-four hours. The staff reported that she’d never left her bedroom.  I found that to be odd, considering she enjoyed extravagance and fine wines. 

I knocked on her door and heard no response.  I rang her mobile, and heard it ring within the room, but still there was no response.  That’s when red flags waved severely in front of my face.  Her door was locked, but I kicked it in.  Soft music played faintly from her suite bathroom and I followed the sound, especially since her door was open a crack. An empty, broken bottle of whiskey lay at the base of her vanity, along with several empty pill bottles.  The large, round tub in her bathroom was brimming with water. The soft flowery scent of her bath oils was mixed with the steam of the water. The faucet was still running, and she lay unconscious in the water.  Had I not gone to visit with her, nobody would have found her in time. 

It is disheartening to say that Aislinn and I were the only ones to stay at the hospital during visiting hours.  My father was furious.  My mother accused Zara of being an attention whore and being overly dramatic.  Even if that was true, there was no sensible logic in pointing angry fingers at a troubled woman who was lying unconscious in a hospital suite.

I knew that Zara had nobody else in our family to turn to, and I could not leave her like this.  I did as much work as I could from London, while juggling to arrange a comfortable living situation with nursing staff within my family’s country estate.  It was not easy and I had to pull a few strings quietly.  She was admitted to a home and after several weeks, I was finally able to take her to the country with strict orders that she should be supervised at all times.  There was a slew of other responsibilities I had to agree to- both from hospital as well as from my family.  Nondisclosure agreements went out to hospital staff; My father was adamant that nobody should know about this stunt.

Present day

I couldn’t look at Jill as I told her the truth.  She was quiet, letting me speak without any interruptions.  I didn’t wish to turn the date to ice with this sort of talk, but Jill left me with no choice. 

“Zara is no angel, but she didn’t deserve to go like that.”  I finished with that statement.  “Nobody paid attention to how deeply troubled she truly was, including myself.”

Jillian was pale and silent.  “How is your father handling her condition?”

“He’s not handling it.”  My tone was bitter, and I paused the conversation when the waiter appeared to refill my flute.

“Bring my MaCallan,” I ordered, waving away the champagne.

“Mason, no.” Jillian admonished softly. 

She was right; I couldn’t turn to the whiskey at a time like this.  I waved the waiter away instead and turned back to the conversation.

“He’s always wished she was a boy.  She has lived her life bending over backwards, tirelessly, trying to appease our father and please him.”

Jillian bit her lower lip, deep in thought.  She finally looked up at me.

“Do you think she will be okay?” 

It calmed my nerves when I saw that Jillian held no judgement towards Zara, only concern and sympathy.

“For the time being,” I answered.  “She was in an institution, but she has recently been released to our family’s country estate. I’ve hired the most qualified staff possible to care for her and look after her.  My mother and father have basically put a bandaid over the situation.”

Jillian’s perfect lips curled into a frown as I described my parents’ way of handling a very troubled daughter.

“I have been trying to bring her to New York where I can ensure she will receive the care she needs, but my father is concerned the American media will get a handle on the story.”

Jill shook her head and fumed silently.  Then she realized how she was reacting when she noticed that I was watching her.

“I’m sorry.  I just can’t imagine what you have had to deal with while growing up…”

I wasn’t looking for sympathy when I explained the story, but it was especially comforting when she reached over and cupped her small, porcelain hand over mine.  I felt an energy from such a simple gesture.  Her touch had always kindled something within me and that fire had returned deep inside me.

There was silence between us as Jillian nursed her champagne in deep thought.  I knew the other topic on her mind.

“As for the other woman seen with me in the gossip papers…”  I began, grabbing her attention again.  She appeared hesitant to look me in the eye as though she was afraid of what I might say regarding the lass.

“Her name is Aislinn Meadows, and she has been friends with my sister.  She knows Zara better than my parents know her.  I wanted to get my sister a gift to cheer her up, and Aislinn knew what she liked.  She showed me a few things in the shops and the media had a field day with our shopping excursion which lasted all of one hour.  My father fueled the gossip, because our families have been trying to marry us since the day Aislinn was born.  I suppose it’s only natural for our families to desire that sort of match.  Aislinn is heiress to her father’s international banking enterprise. Our families are always seen together at galas and horse shows, shit like that.”

I leaned back and allowed my explanation to soak in with Jillian.  It was all truth, and I assumed this truth would satisfy Jillian.  Instead, she appeared troubled.  She would not look at me as she sucked on that lower lip.  It always drove me wild when she did that, but I could not allow such dark thoughts to consume me at a time like this.

“Jill?”  I asked.  I needed to hear what she was thinking.  Her silence, pale face, and troubled expression was disturbing.

I rounded the table and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet and against my body.

I breathed in the soft scent of her lavender shampoo as her head pressed against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her tightly.  I could feel her chest heave up and down as her breathing picked up.  I held her like this, for what seemed like an hour, at least.  I simply listened to her breathing and felt the warmth of her small frame against mine.  She relaxed my nerves, and I stopped thinking about the pressures of my family.

“Let’s take a walk,” I suggested, clasping her hand. She said nothing and followed my lead.

Breezes from the harbor greeted us as I opened the door to exit onto the deck.  The wind blew Jill’s tousled waves straight into her face and she scrambled to pull a tie from the pocket of her jacket in order to fasten her hair. I tried to hide a grin as I watched her control those waves.

Once that was settled, I took her hand in mine and walked her around the deck.  The view of the harbor was exquisite.  The sun was out, casting a sparkle on the water.  This was perfect weather for sailing and the boats were out on the water.  I was more enraptured with the view beside me, however.  I watched Jillian take it all in.  The smile was on her face again, and her eyes lit up as she watched the boats out on the water.  It’s amazing what a bit of majestic scenery can do.  Jillian was again at ease, and the light was in her eyes.  I missed that. I missed
her
- more than words can justifiably describe.

“Do you ever take your boat out on the water, or do you keep it docked all the time?”  She asked with a smile, casting me a sideways glance.

I laughed, and turned to her.  “I haven’t taken it out on the water yet.  I didn’t want you to feel trapped on a boat with me, in the middle of the water.”

Jillian blushed and bent her head.

“We can take it out onto the water if you like, or we can keep it docked.  It’s entirely up to you.” I was doing everything I could manage to put Piper’s advice into practice.

Jillian looked out onto the water just as a seagull flew over our heads.  She sucked on that lower lip, deep in thought.