Page 33 of Power Games

"It's fine. You beat me. I'll just show my face at Dad's next bash so they can't assume I'm supporting one party over the other."

Cici didn't comment. She didn't approve of her neutrality. They'd argued about it once or twice, and come to the conclusion that, as they were too stubborn to convince each other, they might as well drop the subject and sip tea.

"Very well, then. And don't you worry about your dress, pumpkin. You couldn't be out of place if you tried."

"All right. Love you."

She hung up and carried on looking at the dresses. There was an array of suitable ones, but she came back to two choices: a cobalt blue sleeveless sheer plunging gown with a deep V-neck at the front and back, and a silk number with one shoulder, a sweetheart neckline and a side slit. The second dress had multiple blues, light and dark, and suited her very well when she tried it on. But the slit was perhaps a little out of place.

She came out of the changing room. "What do you say, Matt? Would any of the old farts at the benefit have a heart attack if I wore this?"

Matt wasn't alone. He was speaking to a beautiful woman dressed in a rather short, very tight, glittery, long-sleeved number with a gathered bodice, and a V neckline much deeper than that of the first dress Vanessa had tried on. A woman she had no issue recognizing. They hadn't seen each other for a while, and Isabella Grant had somewhat changed since. She seemed older, the corner of her eyes were wrinkled, and the body she was flaunting had lost some of its charm. Her breasts used to be real. She hadn't been that skinny in the past. The last year hadn't been kind to her.

With what Charles had told her about Isabella in mind, Vanessa managed a friendly smile.

"Mrs. Grant. Long time no see. How have you been?"

Isabella's eyes raked her from top to bottom, and she snorted. "Heart attack? Sweetie, you won't raise anyone's blood pressure in that dress."

She pretended to take it as a compliment.

"Perfect, thank you."

Matt cleared his throat. "Both dresses are equally suitable, Nessie."

She thanked him too, and went back in her dressing room to get changed, frowning all the while.

What had that all been about? Did Matt and Isabella know each other? When she'd come out, Isabella's hand had been on his sleeve. They'd been whispering. She bit her lip, curious, and then told herself that it most definitely wasn't her problem. At all. In fact, if they were up to something, she was the last person who should find out. The last time she'd given Charles advice about his wife, she'd suggested that maybe Isabella had been lying about her pregnancy. Which made her a fucking bitch, given the fact that the woman hadn't been. Not this time. She was staying out of it.

She ended up buying both dresses, knowing that she'd have the opportunity to wear them both—as long as Marina approved.

13

Her Ghosts

Afew hours later, Vanessa was internally groaning.

She'd seen Isabella try on the damn dress she was wearing on her shopping trip and yet she hadn't, even for one instant, stopped to wonder what it had been for. Why would she have questioned it? Mrs. Grant needed dresses. Charles took her to events every damn week. But she really hadn't expected to see them here, at a Republican gathering. Charles was an Independent, for Christ's sake!

She cursed herself. The secret to being a successful Independent, in a world where all presidents elected had been either Republicans or Democrats, was to make connections and get along with both parties. Of course, Aiden had advised him to hang out in the wolf's den. If she'd been on his team, she would have suggested the same thing.

She turned away from the entrance of the ballroom, pretending she hadn't seen Isabella in her gaudy dress, or Charles, looking fucking perfect next to her. His gray-blue tuxedo, with an off-white shirt underneath, did nothing to conceal his powerful build. Although all his suits were custom made, she didn't think they quite fit him. An army uniform would have been more suitable.

"What's the matter with you, Nessie dear? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"If only."

Cici turned in the direction Vanessa had been facing. She couldn't have been more obvious if she tried.

"Can you, like, stop looking that way? Please?"

Cici did no such thing, scanning the crowd. "You can't have been bothered by Pumpsky, or Olivia, although she was awful to you at the sixth grade pool party. It wasn't your fault you needed braces."

"Cici!"

"Now, now, no need to shout. You should know by now that it doesn't work. I am going to continue embarrassing you until you tell me what has my granddaughter cowering like that."

"I'm not cowering, I've just spotted people I'd rather not talk to, is all. Now come. I'm sure there's about five thousand single men you wish to introduce me to."

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