Isabel dropped down on the bed and closed her eyes. Michael was turning her into a slut, she decided, and he didn’t even know it. Trying to blame him for her behavior didn’t work. She had all but attacked him. Yep, it was official. She was headed down the road to Trampville.
She laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all, and she was beginning to accept the fact that she was letting her imagination get away from her, but then a line for a song came to her, and all she could think about was a melody. Unlike other times when she’d been inspired with an idea, however, she didn’t let herself dwell on it long. She needed to get some sleep.
Isabel had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but there was one thing she was sure of: it was either going to be a catastrophe . . . or a miracle.
FIFTEEN
FRIDAY MORNING ARRIVED, AND ISABEL WAS FREAKISHLY CALM. NO ONE WAS MORE
surprised than she was. She ate breakfast and kept it down. That was another surprise.
A little before noon Alec packed the car and drove her and Regan to the Hamilton. Ignoring Isabel’s wishes, Regan put her in a large one-bedroom suite. It was quite beautiful and spacious, with a panoramic view of the Charles River in the distance. The living room was done in blacks and grays with upholstered furniture throughout, and it was separated from the bedroom by a pair of French doors. The bedroom was a mixture of muted grays. On the king-size bed was a soft plush down comforter and luxurious white linens. The bathroom, all in white marble, was almost as big as the bedroom.
“I don’t need all this room,” Isabel protested.
“People will be coming and going,” Regan reminded. “Hair and makeup will be here shortly, and Vera is coming up in case you need something pinned or tucked, so yes, you do need this much room.”
She made the comments while she helped one of the maids hang up Isabel’s clothes and unpack her bag.
Isabel wasn’t used to being pampered. It was sweet and thoughtful of Regan to move her into a suite, and Isabel was grateful. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, but I really appreciate it.
Thank you, Regan.”
“We’re happy to help,” Regan replied. “Aren’t we, Alec?”
“Of course we are,” her husband agreed as he took the empty bag Regan handed him and set it in the back of the closet.
Isabel watched Regan for a minute and then said, “You’re so normal.”
“Who’s normal?” Alec asked.
“Your wife,” Isabel answered. “She and her brothers own all the Hamilton hotels, and she’s unpacking for me. It’s just so . . . normal.”
Alec laughed. “Regan’s a lot of things, but normal isn’t one of them.”
“Hey . . . ,” Regan protested.
“Darling, if you were normal, you never would have married me.”
“Good save,” she told her husband.
The couple was so oddly paired, Isabel thought. Regan was a beautiful, polished woman who felt at home in her elegant hotel, and Alec was rather scruffy-looking and admittedly a bit of a slob when
he was off duty, neither of which bothered Regan in the least. Alec was growing his hair longer—it covered his ears now—for another undercover assignment, and with the beginning of a beard he could be downright scary if you met him in a dark alley. He was also a teddy bear, she knew, and he loved his wife with a passion. Oddly paired, but perfect for each other. They were so comfortable and so at ease, Isabel hoped some of their calm would pass on to her and loosen the knot that had a grip on her stomach.
Regan stopped what she was doing and glanced at Isabel, who sat on the edge of her chair, her back ramrod straight. She was so rigid she looked as though she were about to shatter.
“Are you okay, Isabel?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” she insisted.
“Okay, Isabel, here’s the schedule,” Alec said. “Noah, Nick, and Michael are going with you whenever Xavier’s driver gets here.”
“Jax told me he’s supposed to be here at four, but Xavier will probably send him early. Why do I need three men to go with me? Wouldn’t two be enough?”
“Michael insisted on three,” Alec said. “Actually, he wanted four, but I talked him down to three.
“Kate and the others will be here around five,” he told her. “Dylan’s driving them. They’ll hang out in your suite until it’s time to go. Regan and I will wait here for them.”
There was a knock on the door, and Alec went to answer it. He came back in the living room with Michael, who was carrying his gym bag. Without comment, Alec took it from him and put it in the guest closet.
Isabel tried not to react to Michael. He was wearing a suit and looked even more handsome than usual. How was that possible?
Regan drew her attention. “Kate wanted to come with us,” she said. “But she’s very nervous about tonight, and she doesn’t want her nerves to rub off on you.”
“That’s funny. She’s usually the calm one,” Isabel said. “I called Kiera and actually got through to her,” she said to no one in particular. “Shocked the socks off my sister when I told her I was performing with Xavier. Turns out she loves him, too.”
“It’s too bad she can’t be here,” Regan remarked.
“It’s okay. She’ll be able to see me on YouTube.”
“They’re going to put the concert on YouTube?” Alec asked. “That can’t be right.”
“They’ll put it on when I screw up. It will be all over the Internet.”
Exasperated, Michael said, “You’re not going to screw up.”
She stood, then sat again. She couldn’t remember what she was supposed to do now.
“What’s wrong?”
“Do I get undressed now and then get dressed after makeup and hair, or do I get dressed first?”
she asked, trying with all her might to sound composed and in control. “And I also wonder . . .”
“Yes?”
She leapt to her feet. “What in God’s name am I doing?” Her voice escalated to a near-hysterical shout. “I can’t go onstage and sing. I should never have . . .”
“You’re going to be great,” Alec promised her.
Regan nodded. “You’ll sing your songs and everyone will cheer. You already have millions of followers on the Internet,” she reminded. “Think of it, Isabel. Millions,” she exclaimed dramatically.
“You’re a sensation, and everyone in The Garden is going to love you.”
Isabel was frantically shaking her head. “I don’t think I can do it. Twenty thousand people will be there, and I . . . I just can’t.” Panic was grabbing hold in a big way.
Both Regan and Alec tried to talk her down, but Michael went another way.
“Snap out of it, Isabel,” he ordered.
Apparently Michael wasn’t one to coddle.
“Oh, that’s comforting,” she muttered.
“You want comforting? Go to my mother. She’ll comfort the hell out of you.”
“Yeah, she will,” Alec agreed.
They were serious. The idiots weren’t joking. Isabel looked at Regan and then both of them began to laugh. Isabel was still laughing when she went into the bedroom and closed the French doors.
For the next two hours, the professionals transformed Isabel into a superstar. At least that’s what Regan kept telling her they were doing every time Isabel tried to get the stylists to hurry up and finish.