by Leslie North
She was also Mitch’s father’s number one pick as the ideal daughter-in-law.
“What do you say to another shot?” She laughed, waving down the bartender. “I mean, we don’t have anywhere to be, right? And hell, if we get too drunk to go home, it’s not like you don’t have a thousand rooms at your disposal.” She winked, and Mitch could see through to the real meaning of her words. Sara was not quiet about the fact that she wanted Mitch. She probably would be thrilled if their parents set up an arranged marriage for them.
And sure, Sara was gorgeous. She was the definition of fun-loving, single professional. With bursting cleavage and a sexy pout, she was nearly always fawning over him. Like she was just waiting for him to make his move.
Hell, a month ago, he’d been considering what life might be like with Sara. She seemed like a safe enough choice. Looks and business and success all rolled into one. The spark wasn’t there, but he didn’t necessarily need it…probably.
But now that Jules and Noelle were in his life? He didn’t want to consider Sara as anything more than the business acquaintance she was. And Sara didn’t know it, but her flirtations were only making the knot in his stomach worse.
Over Sara’s shoulder Mitch could see part of the entrance to the bar which looked out over the western edge of the lobby. He kept glancing there, though he didn’t know why. Maybe planning his escape route at the earliest possible juncture. The bartender arrived with their shots, and Sara lifted hers, urging him to do the same.
“Come on. Here’s to more successful ventures. Including ones we haven’t officially started yet.” Her grin glinted mischievous as she reached over and caressed the side of his face.
He clinked his shot glass against hers, forcing a smile and resisting the urge to swat her hand away. As he tossed it back, he swore he caught a glimpse of Jules out of the corner of his eye. But that was impossible. She was upstairs with the baby, and he was just feeling guilty. Once he’d downed the amber liquid, he searched the bar again. Just to be sure.
No Jules.
He was imagining things. Probably because he was feeling guilty and eager to get back up there and help her.
“So. There’s a lot riding on this deal. I think I know how we can come to an agreement.” Sara brushed up against him. “Some of my girlfriends and I wanted to go grab dinner before we go to a new club later. What do you say? You should come. We can keep talking business.” The air quotes she made around “talking business” made his stomach pitch to his feet.
Going to dinner was one thing. Following it with a visit to a club? He didn’t even want to imagine Jules’s disappointment in that choice. And furthermore, he didn’t want to entertain even the thought of an evening like that.
No, he needed to wrap things up here and now, before Jules declared him a lost cause and totally useless foster dad.
“I need to get back upstairs,” Mitch said.
“Oh, come on! It’ll be so fun! When’s the last time you’ve had a good night out? Seriously.”
A sigh escaped him. His last great night out was the last time he and Jules went out. But that wasn’t the sort of night that Sara was talking about.
“I already know the answer: too long,” Sara went on. “Come on, you need this. And it’s the holidays! When are you going to take a vacation if not this time of year?”
Mitch fished his phone out of his pocket, intent on bouncing the idea off Jules. As he swiped the screen on, he realized he’d missed four calls and several texts from her. He stopped breathing for a moment, fearful he’d missed something urgent, since his phone had been on Do Not Disturb.
Jules had sent three texts: “Hey are you busy I really need you to come up here”; “Are you getting any of my texts or calls?”; and then, “Never mind. I don’t need your help.”
“Hang on,” Mitch said, sliding off his stool. “I need to return this call real quick.” He stepped toward the front of the bar as he called Jules, counting the seconds until she picked up. It clicked over to voicemail, but a text from her arrived almost simultaneously.
“Going to bed. Everything’s fine.”
That was a relief, at least. As he returned to his post at the bar, Sara was still eager for an answer.
“So what do you say?” Her eyebrow arched. “Do we close this deal or not?”
His father’s demands cycled through him as he looked down at her hopeful eyes. She’d said it herself—this was the route to close this deal. A lot was riding on this. Including his potential next role as the head of Denton Hotels.
“I’ll go to dinner,” Mitch finally conceded, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
Going to dinner didn’t equate to going to a club.
He could still seal the deal and get home at a decent hour. And wasn’t that the definition of the work-life balance?
Still, he couldn’t shake the gnawing sensation as he accompanied Sara out of the bar. Something was off. He just couldn’t tell what.
17
Jules stood staring down at Noelle, finally sleeping peacefully in her crib, for what felt like an hour. Even though she’d buried the alarm under five pillows in Mitch’s bedroom—an appropriate present for him to come home to—she could still hear the shrill ring in her memory.
Damn that thing. But maybe she should be grateful for it.
Because that annoying little device had jostled her out of this crazy reverie in which she and Mitch were heading for something big.
Jules heaved a sigh, finally turning from Noelle and heading for the living room. Even though she had plenty of work to do and plenty of sleep to catch up on, she would be doing neither of those things.
No, right now, she needed to call her mom.
The phone was ringing before she even sank into the couch. Her mom picked up on the third ring.
“Honey!” she exclaimed. The familiar rasp of her voice made Jules smile. However difficult her childhood had been with her mostly absent mother, she was the only mom she had. And sometimes, Jules needed her.
“Hi, Mom.” She sighed, wondering where to begin. “You got a minute?”
“Of course I do. I was just sitting down to watch some Criminal Minds.”
Usually they’d watch that together whenever Jules visited. Even though her mother had sought the ultra-rich, ultra-luxe lifestyle via a revolving door of rich boyfriends, none of that wealth had ever transferred over into her daily life or Jules’s upbringing. In fact, now that her mother had finally given up on the rich boyfriend life goals, her life was plainer than ever.
“I’ve sort of…found myself in a situation,” Jules began. “Something that might come as a bit of a shock.” She took a deep breath and spilled the executive summary of the story. The more she spoke, the more absurd everything sounded. Playing house with a billionaire while they watched over a child that wasn’t even theirs? Who was she kidding?
After her hurried summary of the situation, her mother tutted.
“Jules-y,” she started, disappointment already straining her voice. “I thought I told you those rich men are never good news.”
“I know, I know.”
“You’re only gonna get hurt. You already are hurt,” she added.
“I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve just been going along with what I feel is best, but…” Jules’s gaze drifted to the couch. But the truth was, Mitch was a free agent, and who knew where that “business meeting” in the bar would progress? Finding him there, being caressed by that gorgeous woman while they raised shot glasses, told her everything she needed to know.
She just hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. A lightning bolt of feeling crushed, followed by a disappointment that made her limbs heavy. Still, an hour later.
And the worst part was that Jules wasn’t sure who she was more disappointed in: him, for stringing her along in this fantasy, or herself, for believing it in the first place.
“I just thought we sort of had something going,” Jules went on. “We have a connection.”
“You thought,” her mom interjected.
“He’s a great guy,” Jules said.
“Mm-hmm. Sure.”
Jules sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was what she needed. Perspective. A hard kick to the ass to remind her that she was being foolish. And there was no one better than Mom for that.
“You know my own track record with those wealthy types,” her mom said, and through the phone Jules could hear the flick flick flick of the lighter. Her mom didn’t smoke much anymore, unless she was stressed. And clearly, this conversation was as stressful for her as it was for Jules. “They’re all the same. He might seem nice, but do you know how easy it is to seem nice when you’ve got thirty-five million dollars in the bank? That’s just his chump change. This guy can buy anything for you. Make it up any way. He can make you believe any reality he wants. Don’t forget that.”
Jules ground her teeth. Her mom was right. It was easy to forget everything she’d always warned her against while bathing in luxury itself. But now she needed to figure out her next steps. Because she couldn’t stay here. She’d do the holiday stint and that was it. Afterward, she needed to get back to her own apartment. Her own life. The big Christmas event was just two days away, which meant she didn’t need to hold out for much longer. They’d agreed on the New Year, but plans were about to change.
“You’re right, Mom.” Jules sighed, picking at the stitching on the leather couch.
It might hurt to leave behind such opulence and comfort.
But it would hurt even worse to get sucked into a lie and lose years of her life, in love with someone who couldn’t return the feeling.
Mitch paced the foyer of the penthouse in his formal suit, checking and re-checking his watch even though he knew what time it was.
They were on time. Hell, they were early.
But still, anxiety had him wound tight.
This was the big night. The gala, complete with the Christmas display, the events, and the announcement. Jules was still getting ready, which meant Mitch had ample time to fester in his own thoughts.
Jules had been off ever since that night he left her upstairs with Noelle. He’d apologized plenty, but she never snapped out of it. He figured it was stress from the upcoming event. After all, they’d been working on it for the past two weeks. The reason for the season, in both of their worlds.
Noelle had gotten better, at least, which allayed some of the household stress. But he couldn’t deny that Jules just felt distant. Unwilling to spare much conversation, or even a kiss.
And the lack of her warmth disturbed him in a major way. Mostly because he felt like he was missing something that he needed.
Which meant that he needed Jules.
Jules finally breezed down the hallway, dressed to kill in a long, shimmery black evening gown with teardrop pearls in her ears. Her hair was swept back in a fancy updo, prepared by a stylist Mitch had brought to the penthouse exclusively for her hair and makeup.
“Wow,” Mitch said, his heart thumping in his chest. He couldn’t pry his gaze off her if he wanted to.
She glanced at him through the mirror as she inspected her lipstick. “What?”
“You look…stunning.”
She pursed her lips into a little smile. “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”
Jules headed for the door, but he caught her by the waist. She stiffened at his touch—yet another new development of the past couple days.
“The dress looks better than I could even imagine,” Mitch murmured, bringing her closer. She avoided his gaze. “But I’m really curious to see how good it’s going to look on the floor.”
Jules snorted. “Come on. We need to go.”
“One kiss.” He brushed his lips over the shell of her ear, and she melted a little against him.
“I can’t,” she protested weakly. But she tipped her head back to look at him finally, and confusion shone in her gaze.
“Why?”
She swallowed, searching his face. “Because it’ll mess up my lipstick.”
He heaved a sigh. “Fine. Later then, when we can mess it up all we want.”
She didn’t say reply, just continued her walk toward the door. Mitch followed her, a frightening cocktail of emotions boiling inside him. Things were fine with Jules—or were they? Tonight would be amazing—or a dismal failure. He’d either be named the new head of Denton Hotels—or be presented with some dismal, embarrassing award for service.
There was so much buildup toward tonight that he could hardly put one foot in front of the other.
“Everything is going to be fine,” Jules said once they were in the elevator heading downstairs.
“I know.”
“You’re white as a ghost and grinding your teeth.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. Okay. So I’m a little nervous.”
“Same here. But one of us has to keep it together,” she mused, crossing her arms. “I guess it’ll be me.”
He cracked a grin, fake knocking her chin. “That’s why we work so well together.”
She stared at him for a moment, the smile slowly draining from her face. Finally she jerked her gaze away from him as the elevator hit the lobby, which only confirmed Mitch’s suspicions. Jules was unhappy about something, but he couldn’t figure out what.
Except now was not the time. Not with the doors sliding open and the immense sweep of lobby greeting them, filled with people dressed to the nines. Before they even stepped out, a few people called his name, waving over at him.
Whatever was bothering her would have to keep bothering her until after the gala.
As soon as they stepped out of the elevator, everything else melted away. The anxiety, the stressing, the horrible sense of not knowing and wondering. He was in business mode, which meant he compartmentalized all the negative emotions until later.
Everyone who was anyone was here. Everyone in the Denton empire and their families, which was normal, but this year they’d opened up the guest list to include the media and industry bigwigs. His dad had wanted to go big, so Mitch went huge.
“Wow,” he breathed, squeezing Jules’s hand. “This looks better than I could have imagined.”
All her hard work was obvious, from the neatly arranged Christmas displays to the trendy Santa posing for pictures with his white man bun and aviator sunglasses. Surprise and excitement shone on the eyes of the guests. A banner hung above the Santa display, encouraging attendees to use the #MerryDentmas hashtag. When he glanced over at Jules, she was watching everything with bright eyes and a small smile on her face.
“You should be proud,” he whispered to her, wrapping his arm around her waist.
“I am,” she said, looking up at him. For a moment, whatever barrier she’d erected between them had dissolved. He dug his fingertips into the softness of her waist, suddenly desperate for a kiss.
“I want to ruin your lipstick right now,” he confessed.
“Mitch—”
Her response was interrupted by the booming voice of his father, strolling toward them with his hands outstretched.
“Son!” His laughter almost hurt the ears if you stood too close. Because his father, as a veteran hotelier, knew exactly how to turn on the charm and gregariousness for public events. He pulled Mitch into a quick hug. “Look at this damn thing. I told you to do it big, and you did it big.”
“Of course, Dad.” He laughed, clapping his father on the shoulder. “We owe it all to this lady.” He stepped back, gesturing toward Jules. “Jules, meet my father, Norm. He’s clearly impressed with your work.”
“Impressed? I’m bowled over.” He surged forward to offer his hand, which Jules shook firmly. “Mitch, you found the best damn event planner on the planet. Now, let’s go mingle. I saw Sara over there. You never told me how that meeting with her the other night went. I hope you secured the deal.”
His father stopped when he realized Mitch wasn’t following him. Panic streaked through Mit
ch’s limbs. He felt torn between two worlds. The sweet, tender world that he’d been creating with Jules…and now the harsh reality of being his father’s son.
It was easy to forget it, up there in the penthouse. Their lofty dreamworld, safe from judgment or prying eyes or his father’s narrow-eyed inquisition.
“Mitch?”
“Hang on, Dad.” He turned to Jules, looking for some sort of answer there. His mouth parted, but no words came out.
“What’s the matter?” Jules asked.
It felt like cement had filled his throat. He couldn’t find words, much less force them out.
“Mitch, let’s go,” his dad barked, looking at his watch.
“I’m here with Jules,” Mitch finally said, turning toward his dad. That was simple. That was enough. Even though saying the words made him feel like he might puke a little.
His father’s brows formed a dark line. “What do you mean?”
“She’s my date.” Mitch forced a bright smile, slipping his hand over the small of Jules’s back.
His father blinked. “The event planner.” It wasn’t a statement as much as a veiled question. Only Mitch could hear the are you fucking serious? buried beneath his words.
“Yes.” Now Mitch’s heart was pounding. He hadn’t planned on needing to out them like this, much less right off the bat. But he should have known that the party would have led to this moment. Somehow. Some way.
“It’s been a dream to work with your son,” Jules spoke up, her voice light and sonorous. Her smile strained at the edges. “And your hotel is just…marvelous. I’ve never held an event in such an elegant space before.”
Norm nodded slowly, still looking Jules up and down.
“And if it helps, I’m not just an event planner,” Jules went on, her words becoming rushed.
“Did you meet my boy at Boston University?” Norm asked.
“No, actually, I went to Barnard.”
“And what did you study?” his father asked.
“Business, with a minor in fashion design.”
Norm hefted slightly with a humorless laugh. He nodded, looking around. Mitch knew the sign well. He was done with this conversation.