She nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
The mask of indifference was firmly in place and I wondered if I had just ruined everything because I couldn’t make myself answer one simple question.
What the hell just happened? One minute, we were having a casual conversation, one where I was willing to give him a chance to admit he was lying about the photos. I was laying it all out there and even tried to show him that maybe I could share something with him of myself while trying to drop the façade I was trying to maintain to protect my heart. The next minute, I was in his lap and we were on the verge of sex.
I was disoriented and my skin felt prickly, like it was on fire. There was no way I wanted to go into this charity event right now, yet there was no way out of it. I looked at Jackson, hoping he would offer some kind of respite for both of us but when he asked if I was ready, the only thing I could do was say the same thing I said when I first got into the car.
Something had shifted between us in mere minutes. It made my once hot and flushed skin feel so cold goose bumps broke out. Was he dismissing me, or disoriented, the way I was? Had I pushed too far too soon for information?
It wasn’t until we were actually having a real conversation that I realized I wanted to know more about him. I thought the connection we had was purely physical lust, and I could make it go away by forcing myself to maintain a distance between us. But when Jackson started talking about how fame was something he hated and there were things he wished he had never done, I couldn’t resist pushing him a little more. I was hoping one of those things he regretted was the lie he told me about the photos. I wanted him to admit it. I pushed and pushed, laying all my cards on the table, looking at him—really looking—for the first time since that night I found him behind me on the dance floor. And when I opened my eyes, I was shocked by what I actually saw.
The hurt and openness that were laid out in his deep brown eyes made my stomach somersault, throwing me for a minute. There was something else there he wasn’t telling me, and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the photos. But the look was gone as quickly as I noticed it. Before I had time to think too much into his words, his mouth was on mine and I was so caught up in desire I forgot where I was and what we were even talking about.
Jackson’s driver, Monroe, opened the door on his side and I had a minute to collect myself further, smoothing the short dress and grabbing my clutch to slide out of the car behind him. He was standing there, handsome and dapper in a tuxedo, holding his hand out to me. My stomach flipped again at the sight of him. He was truly beautiful, in a way no other man I had ever met was, and sometimes when I looked at him, it took my breath away.
This was the reason I averted my eyes so much when I was with him. If I got lost in the beauty and torment I saw behind his eyes, I was afraid I would never get back out with my heart intact. That thought scared me more than anything. I wasn’t sure I would survive the level of hurt Jackson Radcliffe would be able to inflict on me.
These thoughts swirled as I took his hand and followed him down the red carpet to the entrance of the hotel, which was somehow familiar. For a minute, my spinning thoughts distracted me from the yelling of the press and the flashes of bulbs until Jackson came to a sudden stop just before we entered the building.
A tug on my hand brought me back to reality and I looked up at Jackson as he leaned down to me. For a minute, I thought he was going to kiss me and a look of horror must have crossed my face because he smirked and shook his head slightly.
“Turn and smile for the camera,” he whispered close to my ear, his breath sending a shiver down my spine, and I suddenly understood what he was trying to do. It was time to play out the charade of a relationship we were supposed to portray for everyone to see.
I looked up quickly and gave the fakest but most convincing smile. There were a lot of people and a lot of cameras, and I did my best to hide the surprise I felt at seeing so many. Tunnel vision and confusion as we got out of the car blocked the chaos around me for a time—and Jackson. I was so focused on Jackson and what had happened in the limo, my brain didn’t have the space for much else. But now that I was looking up and around, I felt exposed and raw in front of hundreds of people.
Jackson’s arm tightened around me, a sensation I latched on to so I would remain grounded. He led me away from the chaos and into the hotel without removing his arm from my shoulder.
Relief washed over me as we entered the quieter space of the hotel lobby. It wasn’t completely empty inside but the cameras, paparazzi, and onlookers weren’t permitted in this space. I was never one for big crowds and I released the breath I was holding, causing Jackson to drop his arm from around me. He wouldn’t look at me, his face stoic and apathetic, and I wondered what happened between now and the car to make him seem so indifferent.
Shivering from the sudden absence of contact, I wrapped my arms around myself in a defensive manner.
“Are you cold?” Jackson asked in response to my posture while looking around the room. His eyes never settled on me.
“Not really,” I said, even though I felt sort of bereft at the loss of contact with him.
Jackson’s demeanor had changed significantly since we exited the car and I was beginning to feel uneasy again about the whole evening. Between the entire paparazzi event and his sudden coldness, it was no wonder I got a chill.
He took my hand again, but not the same way he had when he led me to or from the car, and we moved towards a banquet room. I looked around in awe as we entered, and it seemed as if every eye in the place was on us. Freezing for a moment, Jackson gave my hand another gentle tug and pulled me fully into the room. I wasn’t used to all the attention but I figured I better get used to it under the circumstances.
The banquet hall—or, more aptly, ballroom—was set up beautifully, a large crystal chandelier sparkling overhead and complimentary centerpieces on the tables. The rest of the room was decorated in subtle gold tones with creams thrown in, and I couldn’t stop looking at how stunning everything was. It distracted me from my nerves about the evening and the fact that Jackson was completely ignoring me now.
“Where are we sitting?” I asked Jackson quietly as he looked at something directly over my head in the distance.
He showed no recognition that I had spoken at all, and I turned to see what he was staring at because he didn’t answer me. There were two women across the room—one, I recognized as his aunt, the other, I didn’t. She was gorgeous, with long, sable-colored hair and olive skin. Jackson was clenching his jaw, his beautiful face set in a grim line that resembled rage. What was he so angry about all of a sudden?
“Jackson,” I said quietly as I touched his arm.
This time, a real shiver went down my spine as he continued to ignore me, skirting around me so my back was to him. His behavior was odd and off-putting. I suddenly didn’t want to be here anymore because something else was going on and I wasn’t privy to the information.
If it weren’t for my damn stilettos, I would have run out of the room.
The moments and the passion we had shared in the limo had dissipated, and I felt like a hanger-on instead of his date as I turned around and slinked to his side. We stood there a few more minutes as I watched him silently stare with ire across the room at the woman.
I breathed out a heavy sigh. I wasn’t sure what I thought would happen once we were at this benefit, but it dawned on me I didn’t know Jackson at all and I was making a mistake in thinking that if he lied to me once, he wouldn’t lie to me again. For all I knew, that woman across the room could be his wife. Uncertainty made my stomach clench. What was I even doing here?
When it was clear he wasn’t going to answer me, I tapped him on the arm again to get his attention. Now, I really did want to go home. This whole thing was a bad idea and I wasn’t sure why I agreed to it in the first place. Panic gripped me with the need to get out of that room.
“I think I’m going to go,” I said in a voice barely
above a whisper.
“What?” he said, a little too loudly, though he didn’t turn to look at me.
The people who were already staring in our direction started to murmur but he didn’t seem to notice.
We were still standing just inside of the banquet room and I felt like we were on a stage in front of thousands of people. I grabbed his arm, giving him a slight tug, and surprisingly, he moved with me off into a corner and out of everyone’s line of sight.
“I want to go home,” I said more forcefully, and I was angry at the slight waver in my voice.
Tonight had been an emotional roller coaster, and the sooner I got home and out of this silly dress and shoes, the better I would feel. This was a terrible idea.
“Why?” he asked, finally glancing at me before looking back over my head towards his aunt and the mystery woman.
“I’m not feeling up to this. I got my pictures. Maybe I can sneak out the back?” My voice cracked on the last sentence and I held back a sigh of exasperation.
This really wasn’t my night.
Jackson averted his eyes from whatever, or whoever, he was staring at with a scowl and glanced down, finally seeing me for the first time since we stepped out of the car.
“We just got here,” he said, and I could tell he was searching my face for something.
I shook my head because that didn’t matter. This was a bad idea and at this point, I didn’t care whether he was lying about the pictures or not. I felt off-kilter and out of my element, and I didn’t want to be here. It was stupid and naive to trust a man I barely knew. I was risking too much of myself by being here, so much more than I would be by not.
“I have to go,” I said and turned away from him, moving swiftly out of the room and back into the lobby of the hotel, which was just as magnificent as the ballroom.
It hit me then, that this was the same hotel Jackson brought me to that night, and it occurred to me maybe this was the reason I was so off-balance all of a sudden. But that didn’t matter either and I sped with purpose towards the doors until I realized I would have to travel back through a barrage of cameras and people to get out. Dread seized me for a second time and I backed away from the only exit in sight before turning towards a bank of elevators. I had two choices at this point—go down a floor and hope there was a service exit or make a break for the winding flight of stairs in front of me and off to the left. Neither of the choices was ideal because I really had no idea where or how I could get out of the hotel beside through the front entrance, but when I saw Jackson come back out into the lobby looking for me, I chose the elevators because I was closer.
I stabbed the button several times and tapped my sequin-clad foot with impatience as I waited for the car to come. When it finally dinged its arrival, I practically dove for the opening in the doors.
“Liza!” Jackson yelled but I didn’t turn around.
I punched the basement button and watched as the doors closed, trying to stop the pang I felt in my chest as he ran towards me while they shut in his face.
Liza was running. I was brooding about my aunt inviting a woman from my past while Liza was trying to escape. As soon as it registered she said she was going to take off, she was already doing it. It was my turn to be inside my head and I didn’t realize Liza could sense the detachment. I thought she was all right, and after the initial shock of the paparazzi, she seemed to be admiring the hotel.
I didn’t see the glimmer of recognition I thought I might have when we walked in. I missed the look, the one I saw on her face as the elevator doors closed, that said she was uncomfortable and could sense I was a million miles away. While I was focusing all of my rage at the woman across the room, Liza was planning her exit.
I ran to the elevator doors, but by the time I got there, they were closed. She was headed down, that much I knew. Since this was my hotel, I also knew where it led. Without wasting too much time, I sprinted around the corner and to the service stairs that were reserved for the staff. Taking them two at a time, I hurtled towards the basement, hoping I could catch her before she found the service entrance and disappeared on me.
I don’t know how I could have been so blind to see how uncomfortable I made her with my distance. In my defense, I wasn’t completely blind to it, because the moment we stepped from the car, I backed off intentionally. We were supposed to show the world we were in a relationship but that wasn’t something I did well. I was out of my own element and when I saw the look on her face as she realized just how many people and photographers had come to take pictures and gawk at the rich and famous, I knew I had made a mistake. Liza wasn’t cut out for this life and I shouldn’t have lied to get her to spend time with me—that much was evident, but how to fix it was not. Giving her some space seemed like the best idea at the time.
Once I reached the bottom of the staircase, I headed around the corner to where the elevator would let out. The area was deserted.
“Fuck,” I growled as I headed towards the laundry rooms in the back corner.
Just past the laundry room was a service door—a large bay and a smaller door—which led out into the back alley on the opposite side of the hotel from the entrance. I didn’t see her at first because I was looking past her towards the exit, but when I did, it was followed by a sharp intake of breath at the sight of her. She wasn’t near the door, and she could have left based on the head start she had, but she didn’t.
Instead, Liza was standing in the laundry room, talking with one of the older maids quietly as the woman showed her something. It amazed me beyond words that her kindness for others outweighed her need to get away from an awkward situation. I approached slowly because I didn’t want her to change her mind about fleeing.
“Flor, can you leave us a moment?” I asked the woman.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Radcliffe,” Flor said with a nod before walking from the room.
Liza turned on me, a scowl on her face. “I was helping her,” she snapped.
I nodded but didn’t respond to that. I moved closer so she had to look up to see my face. Even in heels, I was almost a whole head taller than she was.
“Why did you run away?” I asked, though I was sure I knew the answer.
Liza shook her head several times. “I don’t belong here,” she said quietly.
“Why do you think that?”
She swallowed and closed her eyes before looking up at the ceiling.
“The cameras and the people,” she started, her voice cracking on the last word, “and everything is so fancy. But that’s not all of it. You, I don’t even know you,” she said, shaking her head again. “This is a sham. We aren’t together, this isn’t a relationship, and I saw you, looking at that woman and ignoring me, and…” She paused, swallowing again.
“That’s not really any of…” I started to say but she held up her hand.
“You’re right. It’s not my business because you aren’t my boyfriend. I kept telling myself, the whole day and the whole ride over, that this was fake and not to get in too deep. And then, in the car—” Liza shook her head again and again, as if trying to dislodge her thoughts. “I let it go too far, that’s what I realized. It went too far. But, it’s too late now. They have pictures of us together, too many of them, and I realized that once I was on the elevator. We have to finish this thing. I’ll give you a month and then you break it off, publicly, and we can pretend as if we’ve never met.” Liza turned away from me and started to walk towards the door.
I panicked, my chest tight with worry she would walk out of here and I would never get to make it right. Surging forward, I grabbed her arm to stop her and she turned around, her look of hurt replaced with anger.
“I lied,” I blurted out before she could say what she was poised to say.
“What?” She shook my hold off of her arm and stepped back.
“About the photo, the original one,” I blurted it all out at once because I was afraid if I didn’t, then I would never say it at all.
“I
know that,” she said without any hint she was surprised.
“How did you know?” It was my turn to be shocked.
“Because I realized I never saw any photos of you in any tabloids anywhere. How was that possible if you didn’t know someone to fix it for you?”
Liza Deveroux deserved more credit than I gave her and I made a note not to underestimate her again.
“I didn’t think this all the way through,” I said with chagrin.
“Clearly.”
“We don’t have to do this,” I said to her, trying to give her an out if she wanted it.
Another shake of the head. “It’s too late now. I saw the original photo of us kissing on the Inquisitor’s site today. Nicolette showed me. There will be more tomorrow, of us at this event. The press won’t pass up being able to print photos of a formerly untouchable celebrity in a new relationship. We have to see it through.”
Liza was not only smart, she was logical, but the part that bothered me was her lack of emotion at the whole thing. I thought she would have been furious, or at least upset in some way about me lying to her. Instead, she was treating it like a business transaction. It was my turn to be confused and a little bewildered. And, as much as I hated to admit it, it stung.
“Are you still leaving?” I asked her because at that point, there was nothing else to say.
Liza sighed and looked up again. “No, because what I just said made too much sense and if I leave now, I’ll ruin it.” She added a not so amused chuckle to the end of the sentence.
I looked at my watch. “Dinner should be starting soon. We should go back up.”
Liza nodded, but didn’t take my hand when I offered it. The rejection stung a little as well but I didn’t let on. Without another word to each other, we walked back to the elevator and waited for the doors to open. Inside, she stood on the opposite wall from where I stood and I pretended not to notice. But there was a tightness in my chest I couldn’t ignore and I wished would go away. This was my own fault, for letting it go this far. I don’t get attached to women and I never should have lied to spend more time with her. Maybe Liza was right to treat it like a business transaction because letting it go beyond that would likely destroy the both of us.
One Night Page 9