Leanne Banks - Footloose

“Because I want to be more than an empty suit in those board meetings.”

“You want respect,” she concluded.

He shrugged because there was more involved than respect, but it wasn’t something he had ever said aloud.

“I’m ready to accept the consequences of the fact that my husband was your father.”

“You sure about that? The questions, the gossip and speculation.”

She lifted her cup of tea and sipped. “I don’t spend a lot of time in Atlanta these days. Aside from my charity work and attending board meetings, I spend most of my time here.”

“What about your reputation?”

She gave a wise woman’s smile. “You’re too young to know this, but upholding a reputation can be a strain at times.”

At that moment, he almost liked her. Almost. “Why didn’t you tell your husband about me?”

“I was young and terrified. Incredibly selfish. I couldn’t see past my fear. In some ways, vision improves with age.” She met his gaze. “What do you want from me?”

Part of him wanted to say nothing and let her simmer in her guilt for the rest of her life. But that wouldn’t serve his purpose, and Jack had learned through observation and experience that things turned out better for him when he let logic instead of emotion rule his choices. “I want a chance. You have a reputation for allowing different members of the board to vote your shares, depending on your mood. I imagine Marc Waterson or Alfredo Bellagio call you up and state their case and you decide which direction you’ll send your vote. I want a chance to win your vote.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “Fair enough. You have your chance.”

THERE WAS A DOMESTIC disturbance at the Bellagio estate and its name was Brooke Tarantino. The DD was currently in the bathroom suffering the effects of multiple lectures and a terrible hangover.

Before she’d left, Lillian had given Amelia her assignment. “Watch over her. Make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.” Amelia glanced at her watch. She hadn’t heard any moans or groans for a few minutes.

Amelia wasn’t exactly sure of the proper etiquette for watching over an heiress while she was in the bathroom. She knocked quietly on the door.

“Go away, Lillian!” Brooke yelled from the other side of the door. “If I get one more lecture from a Bellagio about what a disgrace I am, I’ll disgrace you all even more by jumping out the window.”

Whoooo, baby, Amelia thought. The DD was definitely alive. “Sorry,” Amelia said. “Not Lillian. Just checking to make sure you’re okay.”

Silence followed, then the door opened and Brooke, her auburn hair extensions matted on her head, mascara smudged beneath her eyes, her skin pale, stared at her. She looked Amelia up and down, her scowl softening only a millimeter. “Sorry, I thought you were Lillian.”

Amelia nodded. “Can I get you something to eat or drink?”

Brooke made a face. “I won’t be eating anytime soon.”

“Some cool bottled water, then? It might help you feel better. You’re probably dehydrated.”

Brooke nodded. “That sounds good.”

“If you wash your face and brush your teeth, that’ll help, too,” Amelia told her.

“Who are you? Some kind of Mary Poppins that’s been assigned to me, the devil child of the Bellagios?”

“I’m actually an employee of Bellagio on temporary assignment as Lillian’s assistant. She asked me to make sure you didn’t die.”

Brooke smiled. “Of course she did. Not good for the image for her great-niece to croak while under her care.” She gave Amelia another curious glance. “You look kinda junior league. In the market for a husband?”

“Not really.” Amelia wondered if she should be offended. My fiancé and I broke up recently.”

“Oh. Well, congratulations,” Brooke said. “I hear it’s always best to find out the guy’s a loser before you say ‘I do.’”

Amelia blinked. This was the first time she’d been congratulated for getting dumped. “I’ll get your water.”

“Thanks. I’ll wash my face, brush my teeth and put on my jammies.”

Amelia went downstairs to collect a couple of bottles of water from the refrigerator.

The housekeeper appeared and shot her a wary look. “I’ll fix something for her, but I’m not taking it up to her room. The last time she was here, she threw a tray at me.”

“She’s not hungry,” Amelia said, wondering about the tray incident, but almost afraid to ask.

“She wasn’t hungry that time, either. Said she was on a hunger strike because her father wouldn’t buy a resort in Mexico for a boy she met on spring break. She said it would contribute in a positive way to the global economy. And you know she left her fiancé at the altar. Very nice young man, too. If you ask me, she’s a nutcase.”

“Wow,” Amelia said and gave a vague nod. She knew all about the way Brooke had left Walker Gordon at the altar because Amelia had worked with Trina, Walker’s new fiancée. She’d gotten the impression that neither Walker nor Trina held a grudge against Brooke. Both were just thankful to have found each other.

After being dumped herself, Amelia felt a lot of sympathy for Walker, but he didn’t seem at all unhappy with how things had turned out. She carried the bottles of water upstairs and entered Brooke’s suite to find the socialite sprawled on her bed with the remote in her hand. With all the residual make-up scrubbed from her face and dressed in a nightshirt, she looked like a young teenager surrounded by stuffed animals.

“Here you go,” Amelia said, handing Brooke one of the waters.

“Have a seat,” Brooke said, patting the bed. “E! is replaying the top fifty worst red carpet moments. We can mock all the stars.”

Amelia hesitated.

“Oh, come on,” Brooke said. “Think of it as educational. You never know when your photo will be snapped for a gossip magazine.”

Amelia tentatively sank onto the bed. “I’m pretty sure that’s not something I’ll have to worry about anytime soon.”

Brooke chugged her water. “Well, I do. That’s why I’ve been sent here to retirementville,” she said with a scowl. “A hundred other females on the beach in Rio went topless, but that cameraman had to find me. Had to put my picture on the front of that Spanish gossip magazine. You know it’s a slow day when they put my boobs on the front page.”

Brooke glanced at Amelia and rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t tell me I just offended your delicate sensibilities because I went topless on a beach in South America.”

Brooke lived in such a different world from hers that Amelia didn’t know how to respond. She chose the rational approach since she suspected Brooke might suffer from a shortage in that area. “A, I haven’t been to a topless beach. B, I’m not sure I would go topless because I burn like the dickens.”

“Dickens,” Brooke echoed and smiled. “I like that. Dickens.” She turned her attention back to the television. “Oh, look. Now there’s a role model for all women who have been dumped,” she said, pointing to the starlet on the screen. “I heard she got dumped by her boyfriend and started dating a male model within two weeks. And the lesson is?”

Amelia had no idea. “Date male models?”

“No. If you’ve been dumped, always do the next cute guy you meet. It reestablishes the natural order of the universe.”

Amelia opened her mouth, but couldn’t think of a suitable reply.

Brooke chugged both bottles of water and offered various platitudes until, like a little kid who needed a nap, she hugged an extra pillow against her and fell asleep.

Amelia collected the empty water bottles, turned off the television and quietly left the room. After she ditched the plastic bottles, Lillian’s voice stopped her.