Million Dollar Devil
Page 20
He raises an eyebrow. “You mean, how things are going to be, now that we’ve . . .”
I nod, hoping he’ll tell me exactly what his intentions are. I want to spend the rest of my life with you would fit in so very nicely here.
Instead, he says, “Well. Let’s just play it by ear. We shouldn’t get too far ahead of ourselves yet.”
I nod, bristling as I think of Daniel, my ex. That’s just something Daniel would’ve said. Let’s not get too carried away, let’s play it loose, let’s take things slow . . . He was a master at deflection. And then he’d totally screw me over when I needed him most.
I’m not going to let that happen again.
I can’t pretend a little part of me doesn’t deflate when I answer, “Right. Of course.”
Maybe I’ll wait a little bit before telling my father that James and I are together.
Yes. That makes more sense.
When the plane lands, we walk up the aisle and step up the ramp. When we reach baggage check, there is a huge crowd of reporters waiting at the end of the escalators. As we descend upon them, I wonder if there really was a famous person aboard the airplane. Then I realize that they’re all shouting for James.
I blink, amazed that the publicity campaign that was launched simultaneously while our traveling began—in GQ, on several city billboards, and on bus and metro ads—has already had such a massive impact. James looks around as if this is surreal. Which it is! Banks LTD has never had such a crazily successful advertising campaign. He looks at me and gives me a wink. “This is wild,” he murmurs.
“You’re famous,” I say to him, mind blown, too, by James’s effortless charisma—noticeable in his YouTube channel and even more so now after getting the kind of exposure we’re giving him. “But if you think this is wild, wait until New Yo—”
I can’t finish because he’s suddenly swept away from me, and I’m pushed aside. More and more bodies crowd between us, all people eager for a piece of him. It’s exciting how enthusiastic people are. He’s looking back for me, but eventually he just gives in and starts to answer a question a reporter is asking as a microphone is thrust under his nose.
I know I need to get to him. He’s my property, after all. I need to make sure he’s giving the Banks-approved answer.
But maybe he can do this all on his own. He’s already proven he can handle himself. Maybe he doesn’t need me.
“Are you with that hottie?” one of the reporters, a redheaded woman, asks me. “James Rowan?”
I nod. At least I’m not invisible. “Yes, he’s the face of the new—”
“He’s a dream, is what he is. Sexy, smooth, complete sophistication. He could sell me anything. Whatever it is, I’m buying.”
I smile at her, a little knot of worry growing in my stomach. I’m wondering if this is a bad thing. Maybe he’s too good. Maybe he’s so beautiful he’ll outclass and outshine the very thing we’re trying to sell?
Or maybe he’ll outshine and outclass me?
No, that’s ridiculous. He’s Jimmy Rowan. He’s real. He’s not like all those other stuffed shirts walking around in designer suits.
I break through the crowd and hear the redheaded reporter say, “James, the entire female population of Atlanta wants to know, Are you single?”
I wait with bated breath for the answer and go completely cold when he hitches a shoulder.
“And looking,” he says smoothly, giving her that million dollar smile.
We rehearsed that answer. He’s supposed to be a bachelor. So he’s not supposed to give any allusion to having a serious girlfriend.
So why does it bother me so much to hear him say it?
The flight might have been excruciatingly long, but suddenly, I wish I’d never left the plane. Because maybe if we hadn’t, I could’ve kept whatever we had in LA.
It’s stupid, because I knew life would go on. We couldn’t stay in that little bubble together. And I was the one who changed him.
But right then, I wish that I hadn’t.
I wish to god that he were still Jimmy.
James
A week after Atlanta, I finally get a breath of air from the whirlwind of press and appearances I’ve been making, so I go down to Tim’s to see Luke.
“So when were you going to tell us that you were a supermodel?” Luke says, frowning as he slides a glass in front of me. “When’s the swimsuit competition?”
“Funny.” I look around. I figured Luke would find it out eventually. He’s a smart guy. “Keep that down. I’m trying to keep it under wraps as much as possible.”
He starts to pour my tequila and then stops. “Or would you prefer a martini? Shaken, not stirred?”
I shoot him eye daggers. “Pour the fucking drink.”
He does, then opens up the latest copy of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution to the second page, where there is a massive full-page ad of me. Throws it down on the bar. I can’t look at it. “Is this what you and Miss Hoity-Toity have been working on together?”
“Yeah.” I lift the glass to my mouth and toss it back. Not as subtle as the shit I’ve been getting used to, it burns my throat. “Another.”
“And what does Charlie say about it?”
“Charlie’s cool about it.”
“But what about the YouTube channel? Everyone was wondering when you’re going to post a new video.”
I shake my head. “Can’t. Not until my contract is over.” I shrug. “And maybe not ever, after that. You know, I’m all Charlie has. I have to think about his future.”
He studies me. “I’m sorry. Who the fuck are you? You look a little like a guy I knew named Jimmy. But you can’t be.”
I hitch my shoulder and spin on the bar. There are people I know there, people who used to root for me, watching me. Now they’re all looking at me like I’m a stranger. I’m wearing slacks and a white shirt, which is all I’ve been wearing these days. But I’m still the same guy. Do they even recognize me?
“Hey, Luke?” I say, not looking back at him. “Set up a round for everyone in the bar. On me.”
“Mr. Big Bucks, huh?”
As I’m spinning back, I catch sight of Denny. Oh, shit.
Just what I need.
“What’s wrong, little princess? Did they run out of dresses for you to wear for your photo shoots?” he says, sauntering over to me. Behind him, three of his brothers are there.
I glare at Luke. So, does everyone know?
Of course they do. How could I keep it a secret? I knew it was a mistake to come back here.
I throw a couple of hundreds on the bar and say, “I’ll see you later, Luke.”
Then I go outside.
I’m halfway down the block when Denny calls after me, “Charlie told my brother that you’re going to be sending him to private school. So that’s how you settle your fights these days? Running away? Pussy.”
It takes everything I have not to whirl at him, fists blazing. But I have more meetings tomorrow and can’t get into this shit. I promised Lizzy. I start to walk faster, as I hear their footsteps pounding on the concrete behind me. Before I know it, one of them smacks me on the side of the head.
I spin on them, fists raised.
Then I lower them. I am not Jimmy Rowan, no-good, classless asshole anymore. I’m beyond that. And I have a contract that says it. “Look, guys. I’m done. Stay away from Charlie. Stay away from me. And let’s all just live our lives, okay?”
They stare at me for a second of complete silence. Then the three guys all look at Denny.
I turn to continue down the street.
“Fuck you, Prince James.” The first punch hits me in the side of the head, catching me unaware. The ground rises up to meet me, and I’m out before the second impact hits home.
GOLDEN BOY
Lizzy
I go home after another stellar day at the office, checking my phone.
I have one message from James. Busy as hell. Hope you’re having a better day than I am.
I’m the new hero in my office. Everyone absolutely loves James. He creates a buzz everywhere he goes. They’ve been pouring so much love on him that this is the first time he’s even texted me since LA. I’ve seen him, briefly, for appearances, but he’s always surrounded by people. And at night, does he stop by? No. He’s completely MIA.
I understand. He’s busy. He’s working from morning to late at night, every day, earning that million dollars.
I know this because my father has me working on compiling all the press for his appearances. I wonder if Dad simply wants me to have some experience with all the aspects of Banks LTD before I turn CEO, or if he secretly knows I crush on James and wants to torture me—but whatever the reason, there is a lot of good press. So while I’ve been seeing the dirty details on everything he’s doing, and I’ve scheduled most of it along with LB, I haven’t truly felt a part of it. It’s like I created him, and now he’s left the nest, never to return home.
And I feel like the stupidest mother bird on earth.
As the driver pulls up in front of my building, I see a man leaning against a bright-red Porsche 911 Turbo, checking his phone. He’s hot. If it weren’t for the bruise over his eye, I’d have thought it was James. I pause, half out of the car, when he looks at me, that unmistakable lopsided smile on his face.
It is James.
My stomach starts to flutter.
“James?” I ask, looking at the car. His car? “You . . . cashed the check?”
He nods. “Well, I delivered, didn’t I?”
“Well, only half, so—”
“You only gave me half the money. Like it?”
“Yeah, but I thought you were going to send Charlie to a private sc—”
“I’ll do that too,” he says, wiping some imaginary dust off the hood of the car. “It’s a lot of money.”
“Not that much,” I tell him. “I can put you in touch with a financial advisor, who’ll—”
“Lizzy, what did you say when you gave me this?” He holds up his phone. “I needed James’s phone. Well, I needed James’s car too. Right?”
I gnaw on my lip. “I guess. But you still have to be careful, because . . .”
“Relax.” He pushes away from the car and clicks a button on his key chain to secure the door locks. “Anyway. I need your help.”
“Come up, come up,” I tell him, every part of my body buzzing. I don’t think we’ll be able to make it to my bedroom. I want him so bad. Now.
In the elevator, he kisses me, tangling his hands in my hair. “Mmm,” he murmurs. “God. Fuck, I missed this.”
I taste the blood. When he pulls back, I study his face. His nose is bleeding, and he has that black eye. I don’t know; I’m kind of glad about it. It shows there’s still some of the old Jimmy left. “I thought you said you weren’t going to fight anymore?”
“This is what happens when I don’t fight. When I try to follow the contract,” he growls. “Your father called me this morning. He wants to meet me and take me out to some place for dinner. With the people from . . . I can’t remember. Saks?”
I swallow. “My father is taking you to meet with the people from Saks?”
He nods.
Oh god.
“Did he forget to ask me?”
“He said you were busy with another project.”
I frown. James is my project. “I’m not too busy. I should call him and see if he wants me to go instead.”
Up in my apartment, I dial my father as I watch James go behind the bar. He sets out a tumbler and pours himself a splash of Macallan. When he answers, I say, “Hi, Dad. Listen, James just told me you have a meeting with Saks. I’m sure you’re busy. Don’t you want me to—”
“No, Lizzy. I think it’s better if I handle our model from now on.”
“What?”
“There have been some rumors of inappropriate behavior on your part with our model.”
I freeze, and my eyes flash to James. “What?”
“Yes, Lizzy. I have it on very good authority that you were seen after hours with him. And you were hardly coming into the office, acting suspiciously, so people were talking. So I think you need to step back from this. Got it?”
I press my lips together. That good authority? LB. It had to be.
“Fine, but—”
“But nothing. Leave James to me. Thank you.”
And he ends the call.
I stare at the screen for a good ten seconds before I grab my phone in my fist and almost launch it across the room. The next thing I know, James is holding a tumbler of scotch in front of me. “Looks like you can use this.”
I swallow miserably as he tries to put his arms around me, but right now? That’s the last thing I need. “My father . . .”
“I know,” he says. He reaches over and touches my face, but I flinch.
I shake my head. “No, you don’t understand the pressure I’m under.”
“I don’t?”
Well, I guess he is under a lot of pressure too. But it’s not the same. He can go back to his old life. Me? This is my one and only life, and I’m stuck with a father who I can never please.
“My father thinks I’m such a fuckup. He thinks you and I are together.”
He gives me a confused look. “Well, aren’t we?”
“I don’t know!” I cover my face with my hands. “I don’t see how we can be, right now. Maybe ever. It’s dangerous, James. I told you, he doesn’t like mixing business with pleasure, that’s for sure. And if he finds out where I found you . . . he won’t just think I’m a fuckup. I’ll completely embarrass him. My father is so . . . strict. He’s strict in all aspects. He wants perfection in me and demands perfection in whoever I date. If he knows that I faked perfection in you . . . that it wasn’t, well, really who you were . . . that you’re not what he thinks you are . . . he’ll never let me touch any part of Banks LTD again.”
“I got it,” he says, backing away. “Well, I shouldn’t be here, then. It’d probably look bad if I was seen coming and going from your apartment.”
I reach for him. “But wait. Don’t go. Let me clean you—”
“I’ve got it,” he says, his eyes cold, distant. “Don’t worry, heiress. I won’t let you down.”
And he sets the tumbler down, opens the door, and closes it behind him.
Leaving me alone.
I pace the room, a bundle of nerves. What did I think would happen if I contracted with James to be my model? How did I actually think I would be able to pull this off and emerge unscathed, without losing massive bits of my heart and my mind in the process?
I look at the glass of Macallan that he poured for me, then throw the whole thing in the bar sink and pour myself a tall glass of Patrón. I really need it.
James
It’s time to put on the magic for Saks. Harold Banks, Lizzy’s father, is a real, honest-to-god blowhard. He reminds me of an unsmiling version of the mascot in Monopoly, sitting in the back of his limo in his tux, drinking his scotch. He pours me one and says, “My boy, you’ve become quite popular, haven’t you?”
The cabin is dark, so he doesn’t see my black eye right away. I take the drink, swirl it like Lizzy taught me, and say, “I suppose.”
“You’re making me a mint. Let’s toast to that.”
We do. I chew my first sip, as instructed. “I do what I can.”
He’s still frowning. “But I have a question for you that I hope you can help me with.”
“Of course,” I say.
He straightens in his seat. “Who the fuck are you?”
My smile fades. I clear my throat. “I’m sorry?”
He grinds his teeth as he looks me over from head to toe. “My daughter would like us all to believe that you materialized out of nowhere or came down from heaven to be the face of Banks Limited. But I know that’s not the case. Your reputati
on as the face of my upscale clothing line is built on the belief that you’re a successful businessman in your own right. And yet my men can’t find a single entity that’s headed by a James Rowan, anywhere.”
I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Well, I—”
“What’s your net worth?”
“I—”
“Stop. Don’t answer that. We already have you in our ads, so there’s nothing I can do at this point. Just know that if you’re playing some game with me, and if the world finds out who you really are, I’m not going to stand idly by. And I’ll be damned sure to put my lawyers on you to get whatever money we promised you back. You understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Keep your private life private, boy. And you’d better not fucking show up at a meeting with a black eye again. Got it?”
So he did see it. I nod, wondering what the hell else he might have noticed about me. No wonder Lizzy is scared to death of him. By the time I’ve spent fifteen minutes in the limo with him on the way to the restaurant, I feel like I’ve been through a war.
The chauffeur comes around and opens the door for us. “And one more thing,” Harold grinds out.
I hold back, somehow knowing this isn’t an afterthought. From the way he’s looking at me, what he’s about to say is the main point. “Yes, sir?”
“If I find out you even touched my daughter,” he says in a low, threatening hiss. “I’ll nail your fucking ass to the wall so hard you’ll be taking the rest of your meals through a straw. You’re not, and will never be, good enough for her.”
I exhale.
Knew that was coming.
And I wouldn’t care, if I didn’t know that this man means more to Lizzy than anyone in the whole world.
I frown at him. “You’re right. I’m not. I don’t care what you do to me. Just—if things don’t go the way you want them to, blame me. Don’t take it out on your daughter. All she’s ever wanted to do is make you look good.”
He blinks, surprised. He might have just expected me to nod along, as I get the feeling most people do around him. He strong-arms everyone into silence, I’ll bet. But he’s not going to do that to me.
He nods. “Fair enough. It doesn’t give me pleasure to come down on Lizzy. I assure you that won’t be the case with you.”