by A. C. Arthur
Valeria had a sly smile, sea green eyes and a mass of curly hair. A week ago, Chaz would have slept with her. Today he was simply trying to get through this interview.
“Social media is all about making connections. Business networking, friendships and, yes, even committed relationships have been born from the many platforms out there. At Conversation Media our goal has always been to start conversations. ChatMe will do the same on a more focused level. We’re excited about its formal release in two weeks and hope you’ll join us for the launch.”
With that, Chaz stood. He buttoned his suit jacket and said, “We’re done.”
Valeria stopped her recorder and hurriedly stood, as well. “Ah, okay. I hope you weren’t bothered by the questions. Inquiring minds want to know.” She attempted a joking tone but Chaz really wasn’t feeling it.
“It’s fine. Can you just let my PR people know when the interview will be posted?”
“I really wish you’d let me do a live show, Chaz. I’m sure we would’ve gotten thousands of viewers if we’d gone that route. Maybe you’ll reconsider for the week of the launch. It’ll be double exposure for you on the blog and the broadcast.”
Chaz started to walk away. “As I stated before, that’s not possible. I’ll be tied up with pre‒Fashion Week events during that time.”
“Oh, right, the favor you’re doing for your uncle. That’s so noble of you.”
“There’s nothing noble about what I’m doing. King Designs is a family business that put me through private schools and college. My loyalty will always be to my family.” Chaz wasn’t sure why this woman was irritating him so much today. He just knew that the sooner he could get away from her, the better.
“Well then, I’ll be sure to let your people know when I post the interview.”
He didn’t miss the bite in her tone and he understood the real meaning of her words—she would post when she felt like it.
“I appreciate that. We have a vigorous lineup of promotion on all media platforms beginning early next week and going into the month after launch, so we’d like to keep track of all of the places we need to thank for their support.”
And if she wasn’t one of them, he would have to accept that, but Chaz had never allowed a reporter to take advantage of him or to play him for their own personal reasons, and he wasn’t about to start now.
His phone rang and Chaz said goodbye to Valeria before walking out of the room.
“I was able to move the first run-through to one thirty but we’ve got models, makeup artists, hair stylists and photographers on the clock,” Chaz’s assistant said when he answered.
“I’m on my way. Getting in the car now.”
Chaz ended the call and stepped into the elevator. Minutes later, he was walking out of the building and onto the sidewalk filled with New Yorkers on the move.
Guy, his driver, had already stepped out of the black town car and was opening the back door for him to get in. Chaz slipped onto the backseat and pulled up his text messages. Nothing from Riley.
He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ONE WEEK LATER, Riley walked into the 11 Howard Hotel, ready for Saturday Style magazine’s style summit, which officially kicked off the pre‒Fashion Week festivities. She wore a navy-blue wool coat that complemented her navy-and-rust geometric-print blouse, pleated skirt and calf-high cognac-colored suede boots. Her hair was pulled back into a neat bun.
One of the hostesses took her coat and Riley tucked her purse under her arm as she walked toward the ballroom alone. Since this event used the best technology on the market to showcase the hottest trends in style, Major was also attending. He had a front row seat as did Riley, but she hadn’t wanted to be up front during the presentation so she’d arrived late, hoping she could avoid immediate detection and slide into a seat at the back after everyone had been seated.
Two minutes after she walked into the auditorium her plan failed miserably.
“Hello, beautiful.”
“Hi.” She tried to make sure her response wasn’t as breathless as she felt upon seeing Chaz again but wasn’t convinced it had worked.
The room was dark but with the bright blue, fuchsia and white lights coming from the stage and the large screens displaying the presentation, she could tell that he looked good. His suit jacket was dark, his jeans light, button-front white print shirt crisp.
“It’s been another busy week,” he said. “I didn’t get a chance to catch up with you.”
“Yes. I know. There’s a lot going on right now. I’m just going to go and find my seat.” She moved around him and was not totally surprised when he extended an arm to stop her.
“Hold on a sec. Can we just talk for a minute?”
“The show’s already started.”
“You knew that would be the case when you purposely arrived late.” He sounded like he was making a casual observation.
His arm was extended in front of her but he wasn’t touching her. She could still feel the heat emanating from him. It was familiar, and to her chagrin her body sought it.
“Five minutes, Riley. We can go out into the hall or find some other private space.”
How much would she love to go off to some private space with Chaz? Way too much, to be honest.
She shook her head. “Not here, Chaz. Maybe we can meet up later.”
Before he could respond Riley saw two people coming up the aisle heading directly for the spot where they stood. She moved around his arm and walked quickly to find any available seat. It was best if she sat down and got out of view.
After the show it took Riley a few minutes to make her way out of the auditorium. Reporters and photographers were everywhere and while she knew it would be good to be seen by one of them and to offer a tease about RGF’s show, Riley couldn’t help but hope they ignored her. Besides, Major was here—he could just as easily give a tease and a lengthy interview since he wasn’t opposed to using the tabloids at every opportunity. He figured that served them right for all the times they purposely misinformed the public with outright lies.
“Hey! Riley Gold is here! We were wondering if you were somewhere in this crowd!”
Once again her plan was foiled as she locked gazes with a reporter. Riley didn’t remember his name but she knew that he wrote for the Fashion Insider blog. He was tall and slim and wore too much product in his hair.
“Hello.” Riley clasped her purse with both hands and held it in front of her as if it were a shield.
“What can you tell us about RGF’s upcoming show? I know you’ve got something up your sleeve. The gossip mill’s been buzzing, girl, so please give us an exclusive!” He looped his arm through hers and walked them past a throng of reporters who had snagged their prey and were chatting away.
The lobby of the hotel suddenly felt very crowded and Riley tried to focus on saying the words she’d typed into the notes app on her phone on the drive here.
“You’ll just have to wait until the show for the full surprise,” she began. “Of course, we’ll be having our annual media brunch on the seventh, where you’ll be treated to delicious food and face time with our top designers.”
“Oh yes, I already have my invitation. But what we really want to know is if RGF will be focusing exclusively on a debonair men’s collection. Or are you unveiling something extra special for the women this year?”
He was persistent. They all were, and when Riley glanced around the room to see more people stopping and talking, her heart began to race.
“RGF always offers top-of-the-line designs for everyone. We’ve built a platform based on quality and high fashion for a diverse world and we plan to deliver just as we have in the past.”
“Okay, so you’re not going to spill any of the details. You’re always so discreet.” He smiled at her and Riley took that moment to
step out of his hold. She put a little space between them and was prepared to say her farewells and get the hell out of there when he continued.
“Unfortunately, that didn’t work well where Walter Stone was concerned. We were all saddened by that breakup, but I’m sure not as sad as your parents were. That was a pretty lucrative deal hinging on those nuptials. But all that’s water under the bridge now. Do you have anything you’d like to say to Walt and his new fiancée? I hear they’re planning a fall wedding. Will RGF be designing the bride’s gown? Or is that a little too close to home since you and Walt were once an item?”
Riley’s legs began to wobble and her knees threatened to give out. She squeezed her purse as if she thought she could actually tear the leather apart with her rage. And still, she smiled.
“I wish Walter and his bride-to-be the very best. I’m sure she’ll be quite beautiful in whatever she wears. Now, I’ll have to say good-night.”
She started to leave and he tried to grab her arm. Riley turned quickly, giving him a glare that had him immediately withdrawing his hand and attempting a faint smile. He stuffed his hand into his pocket and backed away. Riley left him standing there and headed to the bathroom. She wasn’t sure she would make it out front for the valet to bring her car.
Pushing through the door, Riley went straight to the last stall. She eased the lock in place before leaning her back against it. Her eyes closed and tears threatened to fall. That reporter was an ass and he did not deserve her tears, but, oh, how that rock sat in the center of her chest, threatening to bury her alive.
She focused on her breathing and the fact that the anxiety attack could not last forever. In very slowly, out even slower. In and out. It would end and she could continue on with her life because she was a survivor. Her fingers eventually stopped clenching her bag and held it loosely instead. Her stomach still churned but she could swallow now without feeling as if she had a throat full of cotton.
Her phone buzzed from inside the purse and Riley jumped at the sound. She took another breath and opened her eyes, feeling confident that no tears would fall. After digging inside her purse she found her phone, relieved that it was just a text and not someone on the other end. She didn’t know if she was ready to talk just yet.
Drinks at my place?
Riley read the message and let her head fall back against the door. She closed her eyes again and wondered what was going on. Reporters were asking about Walt and his fiancée, when she hadn’t even known Walt had a fiancée. She was sleeping with the enemy and enjoying it far too much. And Production still wasn’t giving her a definite on her preorders. When exactly had her life become so chaotic?
And would drinks with Chaz make it better or worse?
She looked down at her phone and began to type.
My place, 20 minutes.
* * *
When Chaz rang the doorbell, Riley opened the door and pulled him inside. She closed the door and turned to wrap her arms around his neck before taking his mouth in a kiss that scorched every part of him.
His arms went around her waist, hands flattening over her ass and back. She tilted her head, taking the kiss deeper, and he went with her lead, stroking his tongue against hers and pressing her against his now-growing arousal. She lifted a leg, dragging it up the outside of his, moaning into him as if he were giving her everything she wanted and needed right now.
It felt good. It felt damn perfect. His body reacted instantly, dick pressing against his jeans in a hurry to get deep inside her. Her breasts were plastered against his chest. She moaned and sighed as she momentarily pulled her lips away from his. Her teeth nipped his lower lip before she sucked it into her mouth. Chaz held her tighter. He gripped her ass until she gasped, and he was just about to push her skirt down and take her against the wall right in the foyer of her house. But he stopped.
Chaz pulled back from the kiss. He kept his arms around her but looked down at her face instead of moving away.
“What happened?”
Her makeup was gone, her face freshly washed and simply gorgeous. And her hair was down. Messy and hanging past her shoulders. He continued to survey her and noticed she’d removed her boots and taken off all her jewelry. Her eyes were dry, not red at all, but there was a weary look in them. A dead giveaway that something was going on.
“Nothing.” She tilted her head. “Did we really need the preamble of drinks? Aren’t we old enough to know how this is going to play out?”
“No and yes,” he replied. “I’m also smart enough to know when a woman is using sex to mask her pain or discontent. Now, tell me what happened.”
She pushed away from him and walked into the living room, going straight to the bar in the corner near the window.
“You can go if your plan for tonight was to talk or cuddle. I’m not in the mood.”
Chaz could have figured that out without her saying so. He walked slowly into the living room, watching her quick, irritated movements as she took a glass from the cabinet and placed it on the bar top with a loud clunk. She yanked off the top of a decanter and poured more than half a glass of whiskey. He stopped a few steps from the bar and slipped his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. Riley looked directly at him, brought the glass to her lips and tilted her head back to swallow. Three big gulps and she almost emptied the glass. With a shaky sigh she lowered it and held her lips in a tight line.
“Don’t you stand there and judge me,” she warned.
Chaz shook his head. “Never. But I would like you to tell me what happened to put you in this mood.”
“Why? So you can fix it? I’m not in the market for a savior, Chaz.”
“I’m not in the business of saving people, Riley. But when I’m sleeping with a woman, I like to know she’s taken care of physically and mentally. So I’m asking you again to please tell me what happened.”
He couldn’t phrase it any nicer, not while trying desperately to hold on to the temper brewing at the thought that someone had upset her.
She set the glass on the bar top and folded her arms across her chest.
“It’s stupid.” She shook her head and blinked rapidly.
Chaz knew that if a tear fell it would be the end of him.
“If it hurt you, it’s not stupid.”
“I’m over it,” she snapped. “Over him and all his lies. Have been for a long time now. It was just that slimy reporter. He knew exactly what he was doing asking about the show and then slipping in the comments about Walt and his bride-to-be. Like I give a damn what that woman’s going to wear to her wedding.”
Chaz felt partial relief in knowing that it had only been a reporter who aggravated her, and deep irritation that her mood involved her ex-fiancé.
“He’s a reporter—their job is to push buttons. They get a reaction or a blurted quote and they run with it. You know how this works, Riley.”
“Yeah, I do and I think it sucks.”
“I agree.” Chaz moved to meet her on the other side of the bar. He really needed a drink now.
She pushed the whiskey closer to him and he found a glass and poured. He took a gulp, letting the liquid burn the back of his throat before he spoke again.
“What else did he say about you and Stone?” Because that was all that mattered to Chaz. He could not care less if the jerk was marrying someone else.
“It’s not relevant. I shouldn’t have let it get under my skin. Like you said, I know better.”
“But you continue to expect people to be better. That says a lot about you.”
It also said she was probably going to continue being bothered by people who didn’t have the good sense to get a clue.
“It either says I’m an idiot or I should have just punched the guy and went about my business.”
“You’re not an idiot.” Chaz finished his drink and turned around to lean his back against the bar. “
Were you in love with Stone?”
It shouldn’t matter, but it did. He was certain Riley had the capacity to love. What he didn’t know is whether or not she’d given her heart to someone before.
She looked down at her glass and then up to him. “No. I wanted to be. Not just because it would have been the perfect professional union, but because it would mean that I was normal.”
He shrugged. “Normal is overrated.”
“Says the guy who played varsity football since he was in the ninth grade and went on to be a big shot in your fraternity.”
She’d done some research on him. Chaz was flattered.
“It’s much harder to be different.”
She sighed. “We were supposed to be like the royal couple of fashion. Everybody was watching us and waiting for the big day. And all the time I was having daily anxiety attacks and cringing each night he decided to sleep with me.”
Chaz had a rule about not knowing the past details of his current lover’s sex life. But something made him want to know everything possible about Riley.
She lifted her hands and ran her fingers through her hair. What had been smooth and neat earlier was still mostly straight at the top but curling on the ends. Chaz recalled how soft those curls were when he’d run his fingers through them. He wanted to do so again.
“I wasn’t frigid in bed,” she said in a huff.
“I can attest to that.” He leaned over and nudged her shoulder with his.
She looked up at him with a semismile.
“Anyway, on the business end everything went very well. Stonemill Apparel was going to cut our distributing costs in half because of their global reach. At the time we had contracts with a US and UK distributor locked down. However, we’d entered into intense negotiations with Canada and China. Stonemill had warehouses and networks all over the globe. It made sense to combine all our distributing to one company. The process would be streamlined, contracts, payments, shipments would all be the same across the board instead of our production department having to navigate the different logistics of each separate company.”