The Perfect Ingredient (Dare Valley) (36 page)

Being in a restaurant had healed him before. He hoped to God it would again, especially now that he feared he might have lost his place in one for good.

His phone rang, and he saw it was Mac. His boss.

“Where are you?” Mac asked the minute he picked up.

Terrance gave him directions, and when a discreet knock sounded on the front door of the Michelin-star restaurant, he pushed off the bar stool to open it.

His friend looked about as exhausted as he was. “Bad day?” Terrance joked.

“Not my best.” He closed the door and scanned the restaurant. “You’re alone?”

“Yeah,” he said. “My friend understood why I wanted to come here. Mac, I need to apologize to you.”

His boss waved his hand. “I know why you did it. Elizabeth told me today when I called her.”

Terrance’s body felt like it had aged thirty years as he strode back to his bar stool to pick up his bourbon. He threw it back. “I couldn’t stop myself when he said those things about her.” Vile things. Things that still made him want to wrap his hands around Vince’s throat.

“I’m not surprised. Peggy told me stalkers like to taunt. She said you should have kicked him in the nuts.”

His laugh was hoarse. “I like your wife. Could have used her help with the cops today.”

“Was it bad?”

Other than being looked at like he was nothing again, just vermin on the street, it had been a walk in the park. “It got better when Harwick refused to charge me. He said it was a misunderstanding.” But he knew that wouldn’t be the end of it. Not with a monster like Harwick.

This time Mac laughed, but there was an edge to it. “That’s rich. I’m sorry about the TV show, Terrance. But who knows? Given what you’ve said about the network guy, you might have dodged a bullet with that prick.”

He poured Mac a drink. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell myself.” Otherwise, he couldn’t take it.

In one day, he’d lost everything.

Including the woman he loved—by her own actions.

Now it was time to go a step further and do the right thing. “Mac, I think you need to find yourself another chef. I’m damaged goods right now, and I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt your business.”

Mac threw back his bourbon. “I had a feeling you were going to say that. Now let me tell you what I think. Poker players are rough around the edges. They don’t call me The Maverick for nothing. We’ll handle it. I assume you and your publicist worked out a statement that has you humbly eating crow.”

So much so that he feared he would choke on it. “Yeah. I say I’m sorry, that it was a serious business misunderstanding, and that I’m seeking the help I need.”

“Then we’ll be fine. You can cook and keep a low profile. Not too many big-shot reporters are going to hole up in Dare Valley to keep tabs on you like they would here. This will blow over.”

But he knew how to get lost here, and he couldn’t do that in Dare Valley. Not with Elizabeth around. “I can’t go back there, Mac. Not now.” He didn’t give a reason, but it was implied.

His boss fished out his phone and texted something. “I thought you might say that. Think on it. If you can’t come back to Dare, you can head up the kitchen at another one of the hotels. I have four more to choose from until the Vegas one is finished.”

For years, Terrance had felt like there was no one in his life he could count on. Slowly, as he’d turned himself around, that group had grown. And for that, even in the midst of this mess his life had become, he was grateful.

“You’re a good friend.”

“Shit. You might make me cry.”

His laughter bubbled out roughly, and he thought about giving his boss a Ben Franklin as a joke to start his own Cuss Fund. But he couldn’t manage it. The Cuss Fund didn’t matter anymore. The show was over.

“Are we having a moment?” he asked.

“Probably. If not, we will when Rhett arrives.”

His body tensed at that. Rhett was supposed to be with Elizabeth. “If you’re going to hang around, have another drink.”

They sipped their bourbons in silence, Terrance growing edgier as he wondered if Rhett was going to tell him to forgive Elizabeth and take her back.

God, he couldn’t handle that right now.

Not when he missed her like this. The hole he’d lived with all his life was back, and it was larger than it had ever been. The one person who could fill it was lost to him.

When the knock on the front door sounded a half hour later, Terrance pushed through his dread and rose to open it. His friend hugged him and stepped inside.

“You look like someone took you to the woodshed but good, T.”

He shrugged, waiting to hear what Rhett would say.

“You done good,” Rhett said, slapping him on the back. “If I’d been there, I would have kicked him in the nuts, guy rule or not. Repeatedly.”

Yeah, most guys didn’t kick other guys in the nuts. It was an unspoken rule on the streets.

“That’s what Peggy said,” Mac told him when Terrance remained silent.

“She’s a smart woman,” Rhett said, dropping onto a bar stool and helping himself to the bourbon. “That’s why she married you.”

“Indeed.”

“How is she?” Terrance made himself ask Rhett. Elizabeth’s tear-ravaged face and pained gaze haunted him.

“Jane’s with her. They were still talking when I left. We have a suite at the Plaza.”

Good. The hotel knew how to protect famous—and infamous—people. “I’m glad you guys are there for her.”

“We’re here for you too, T.” Rhett downed the bourbon. “Or are you planning on fighting your way out of this alone like some macho asshole?”

“I got myself into this, and I’ll get myself out of it. This doesn’t have to affect anyone else.”

“Bullshit. What the hell are friends for?”

Okay, now his throat was raw, and not from the bourbon. “I’m going down, man, and everybody around me needs to step back, or they’ll go down with me too.”

“So, you’re just going to take the hit and not fight back?” Rhett asked. “You’re going to let that asshole win?”

“That asshole has already won. He was the victor seven years ago when Elizabeth and Jane ran. Now, he’s got me by the balls too. The best we can hope for is to protect Elizabeth from him. I told her not to say a goddamn word.”

He paused then. The cussing was just a reminder of the backward direction his life was taking. Rhett was right. It had to stop. He had to be the change he wanted to see. Even though it hurt to remember all the reasons he’d started the Cuss Fund, he reached into his wallet and drew out a hundred dollar bill because it was something he could do—for himself. His friend glanced at the Ben Franklin he shoved into his pocket, but said nothing.

Rhett knocked back his bourbon. “What’s your plan?” he finally asked.

He told him what he’d told Mac, and Rhett said nothing, which only made Terrance nervous. When Rhett got stony silent, it meant trouble.

“We’re not even twenty four hours into this here circus,” Rhett finally said. “Let’s see how things play out. Maybe we’ll be surprised.”

Terrance knew how they would play out. He would deliver a shitty apology he didn’t mean in front of dozens of reporters in the wrinkled suit he’d stuffed into his duffel bag. His products would disappear from the shelves. He’d seek professional help because he’d need his head shrunk if he ever fell for a woman again. Somewhere he’d cook.

He had to, or he’d die.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Terrance said, shoving back his sleeves and staring at his tattoos. “People like me are never branded the good guy.”

He’d never admitted it to anyone, but he’d put those griffins on his arms not only as a symbol of rising above his circumstances—that was the nice answer—but also as a f-you to all of the people who’d already judged him a street rat, a nothing. If he said it first, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as bad.

But God, it still hurt.

He was back to being nothing again.

Chapter 40

The waiting room to one of New York’s biggest morning shows was filled with flowers, bright colors, and plenty of people checking Elizabeth’s makeup and asking if she wanted another cup of coffee.

Jane sat beside her, holding her hand. “You’re gonna be great, Liz.”

Waking up at the Plaza without Terrance beside her for the first time since they’d come together had helped her find the inner strength to face her greatest fear.

Vince was going to pay for what he did.

Even if he told the world she was gold-digging whore.

She was going to make her story public so everyone knew why Terrance had attacked Vince.

He wasn’t going to lose everything he’d worked so hard for because of her.

“I’m so afraid I’m going to forget what we wrote,” she told Jane.

“Come on. You can keep track of the cards of famous poker players without batting an eyelash. This is a walk in the park.”

It wasn’t, and they both knew it. She was going to be sick again, violently sick. The poor girl who’d done her makeup had rubbed her arm in comfort when she’d returned from bolting to the bathroom. A breath mint and reapplied makeup had helped her look and feel slightly better, but sweating profusely and puking were hell on Chanel.

Her lawyer was standing by as well, knowing that heads were going to roll once she gave her public statement about Vince Harwick of the esteemed Harwick financial empire.

Including her own. Vince would make sure she graced his chopping block.

Matt had even helped her by reading over her lawyer-approved statement, adding his two cents on how she could humanize herself and the story more so Vixen wouldn’t be the center of attention. His advice was to keep it on Liz Parenti. Show the audience pictures of that young, innocent girl at Harvard.

With Jane’s help, she’d pulled together a series of photos of them from Harvard. They’d poured all their energy into creating a media package to curry viewers’ sympathy, and she’d asked Mac’s publicist to go over it as well since she respected her opinion.

“You’re going to break their hearts, Elizabeth,” the woman had said.

If so, their hearts would be just be like hers.

Shattered.

News of her exclusive interview had spread across the airways, and Terrance had been calling her nonstop. She hadn’t answered, fearing he would try and talk her out of it. Worse, fearing she would break down and curl into a ball at the sound of his voice.

Rhett was in charge of keeping Terrance from showing up today, and so far, he’d succeeded.

Mac and Terrance’s publicists were over the moon about her telling the truth, Mac had told her, and both camps were going to release a statement right after her interview saying that Terrance had been protecting Elizabeth from a deeply violent man.

Mac had never backed down from a fight, and he wasn’t going to start now.

Jane was betting she wasn’t the only one Vince had stalked, but Elizabeth couldn’t think about that now. If others came forward, they would band together. Heal together if need be.

And take that bastard down.

“Ms. Saunders?” the woman assigned to her said. “It’s time.”

Elizabeth hugged Jane tight.

“You’re going to do great,” her best friend whispered. “I’m so proud of you.”

One more squeeze, and she stepped back. She could only nod jerkily. Her voice wouldn’t work.

It
had
to work.

She was led to the set. Numbly shook hands with the show’s hosts.

There was small talk, and then the female host touched her arm gently. “Just remember you’re doing this for every woman who’s ever been threatened by a man.”

The cameraman cued them. The host introduced her.

She looked into the camera. And found her voice.

“Hello. My name is Elizabeth Saunders, and I was stalked by my college boyfriend.”

Chapter 41

Terrance watched Elizabeth’s interview from his chef friend’s apartment. His heart beat painful and fast in his chest as he watched her pale features, listened to her thready voice tell the story she’d once told him in tears.

Rhett had forcibly stopped him from going to her and trying to talk her out of it. His friend had threatened to knock him out, and he’d meant it.
She has to do this, T, and I’m not going to let you or anyone else stop her.

Now he realized it was true. She had to do it—not just to save him, which he knew was her primary motivation, but for herself.

He’d never been more proud of anyone in his life.

Elizabeth had done what she had to do. Just like he had.

Now all he could do was support her.

After her interview, his publicist’s phone rang off the hook with more requests for interviews. For the next couple of days, he made the rounds to all the major shows, telling the story about the innocent Liz Parenti and her stalker boyfriend, Vince Harwick.

His business deal with Harwick & Taylor had been bought by Mac’s investment bank with Mac’s assistance after Terrance’s lawyers had reached out to his former business partner. He was glad to be done with the Harwicks professionally.

But it wasn’t over for Elizabeth.

No, the Harwicks had immediately launched their own campaign to paint her as a fortune hunter and a slut, but it didn’t stick. Her vulnerability and raspy voice on camera, backed up by other Harvard students who remembered Vince’s possessiveness, turned public opinion against them. As did the teachers from the Ivy League university who’d touted her genius and Harwick’s entitled attitude.

Two more women came forward to say Vincent Harwick had stalked them while they’d worked at the bank. Then the tide turned even more. Vince’s wife released her own statement about her husband’s philandering and possessiveness, filing for what would become a very public divorce. She even publicly apologized to Elizabeth and the other students for her soon to be ex-husband’s behavior.

Immediately, Mr. Taylor of Harwick & Taylor issued a brief statement to the press that the junior Mr. Harwick had resigned to see to his personal life.

No lawsuit had been launched yet by the Harwick family against Elizabeth, and Terrance hoped to God it wouldn’t come to that.

Elizabeth deserved peace after all she’d been through, and he hoped she would find it.