I strut into St. Markey gallery sporting my Audrey Hepburn sunglasses. I walk to the entrance and through the quiet gallery toward the back offices. I hear voices so I assume Cornelius is already here. I try to sneak by, but of course he catches me.
“There you are finally, I was starting to think you were faking it and still basking in the sun on the beaches of Los Angeles.” Don’t break, don’t break. I bite my lower lip so the pain diverts it from quivering. “Nah, not my style Corn, but I did lose a few pounds yacking my brains out.” I twirl in my petite yellow sheath dress. “Don’t I just look fab? Sick looks good on me right?” I smile ear to ear.
Cornelius just brushes me off. “Sure, any who, break’s over, I need you to go in back and start sorting through all the paintings Mr. James shipped over. Great job by the way. I didn’t expect so many. You must have really wooed him.” He pats me on my shoulder and walks back into his office.
I take this time to lift my jaw that’s fallen on the ground and remind my legs how to still work. He sent the paintings? Already? That had to cost him a fortune. My legs begin to work and I practically run to the back loading dock where all paintings are stored. Before me sits three crates filled with paintings. His paintings “What the hell?” I mumble.
“Um Lexi?’
I jump at my name and turn to see Hannah, the assistant behind me. “Jesus Hannah, a warning would be nice.”
“I’m sorry Lexi, but you have a phone call. He said it was important.”
“Who is it?” I ask.
“He wouldn’t say, but he said that if I didn’t get you he was going to pull all his work from the gallery.”
Shit. As much as I don’t want it to be Hunter it could also be another client. Being away from the gallery this long probably has a lot of my clients in an uproar.
“Alright. Thanks, Hannah.” I take one last look at the artwork and turn, following Hannah back into the gallery to the reception post where the light is blinking. Deep breaths, in and out. I go to pick up the phone and see Hannah right next to me staring.
“Um privacy please?” I snap.
“Oh yes, sorry,” she apologies and takes off. Please don’t let it be him, please don’t let it be him, “Hello, this is Lexi Hall, how can I help you?”
“You can talk to me. Please don’t hang up.” God I miss his voice.
“What do you want, Hunter?”
“Did you get the paintings?” he asks.
“Yes, I did. Thank you. You didn’t need to send them that fast. It probably cost way too much.”
“I don’t give a shit about the money, that’s not what I care about.”
“What do you want, Hunter?” I repeat myself, fighting to stay strong.
“I want to see you. I want you to hear me out.”
“That’s not gonna happen.” Stay strong. Stay strong.
“Lexi please. Don’t do this.”
Wrong comment. “Don’t do this? You mean don’t allow a married man to lie and lead me on? You’re right, Hunter, I won’t do that.”
“Lexi goddammit, that’s not what I meant and you know it. I’m a fucking wreck. Please just see me. Let me explain.” At least I am not the only one suffering.
“No. I told you, I don’t do married men.”
“It’s not fucking like that!” he yells. “God damnit Lexi, you’re being childish.”
Wow. Because I’m the childish one for not wanting to continue fucking a married man.
“Goodbye, Hunter,” I end, and as I hear him yelling my name, I hang up. I round the corner and bump right into Hannah, “Oh no I’m so sorry, I was… I was—”
“How long were you standing there?” I snarl at Hannah.
“Um not long, I was just… I needed to get my purse from the reception desk.”
“What did you hear?”
“Nothing. I swear nothing. I won’t say anything I promise.”
“What is there not to say if you didn’t hear anything, huh?” I poke at her.
“Oh my God don’t fire me,” she cries. Shit. Now I am making the assistant cry. “Calm down Hannah, I’m not going to fire you. But for real whatever you heard. Keep it to yourself, or I will find your ass and tar and feather you!” Where the hell did that come from?
“Zipped lips. Promise,” she stresses and once I feel like I have fully instilled the fear of God in her, we both go our separate ways.
I’m walking back to my office after sifting through my mail when I hear Cornelius yelling my name. I backtrack and enter his office.
“You rang, sire?” I smile sweetly.
“I just got off the phone with Hunter James.” Fuck. “He told me he wants the showing moved up. Unless we do the show next weekend, he is pulling all his work.” Of all the underhanded, cheap— “Make this happen.”
What! “What? That’s impossible, Cornelius, you know that’s impossible. It takes months to prepare for a gallery showing.”
“Which is why I have the best working for me.”
“I can’t do that. It’s impossible. You need to call him back and tell him no.”
“I will do no such thing. Do you know how gracious he is being right now? I want you to do whatever he asks. This is going to be huge for the gallery.” This is just insane. And Hunter knows it. He’s an artist for Christ sakes. He knows that’s impossible.
“Do you need anything else?” Cornelius addresses me, obviously also excusing me.
“Nope. I hear you loud and clear.”
I walk out of his office and head to mine. I am going to kill him. I am going to wrap my fingers around his neck and strangle him! I walk passed a garbage can and kick it, hurting my foot in the process “Ouch, ouch,” I whine, hopping on one foot.
“Lexi?”
“What!?” I bark. I turn around and it’s Hannah again. “What Hannah! What can you possibly want now?
“Um, you have another phone call.” She hovers.
“And let me guess, they wouldn’t tell you who they were?”
“It’s Chrissy actually.”
The anger washes from my face. “I’ll take it in my office. Thanks, Hannah.” And I head down the hallway. I sit down in my plush chair and take the call. “Hey sister from another mister, what’s hangin?” I act nonchalant.
“Well for starters, you can tell me where you have been the past five days. Then you can tell me why Hunter James called me acting all crazy insisting that he get your personal cell number. When I told him that I wasn’t sure I was able to give that information out, he went bonkers on me. Telling me this and that and how he needed to speak with you and it was important and I’m going to just let you fill in the details, sound good?” She perks, knowing something went down.
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about kiddo,” I reply calmly.
“Lexi, he told me that he needed you in his life and that he would do anything to get you back. Now if you don’t spill right this second, I am going to take a special trip down there and bring Pip and I’m going to tell her that all you want is to stay home and eat the pampakes she brought with her.”
Oh God. Just the reminder of the food poisoning I swore I got from those things has my insides churning.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would. Now talk.”
I end up spilling the beans and then some. I’m not sure Chrissy cared to hear about every position, lick and moan, but once I started talking I just couldn’t stop. I told her everything.
“And then I left. He’s called begging for me to hear him out but I told him no.”
“Wow.”
“I know.”
“Do you want my opinion?” she asks.
“Always.” I reply.
“I think you should talk to him.” Yep, crap friend.
“Well, I think otherwise.”
“Lexi, he sounded horrible. If after hearing your story and I didn’t think you felt the same way I would tell you to change your number, but you both sound like you’re in deep wit
h one another. He says he can explain. Maybe you owe it to him to do that.”
She is making a horrible best friend right now. “I don’t know that I can do that, Chris. He hurt me. He lied to me. The way I felt, it was nothing like I have felt before and I don’t want to go through that again.”
“I get it honey, but if you want to feel like you felt before that, I think maybe it’s worth hearing him out. You never know. He might have something worth saying that changes your mind.”
I ponder her notion and damn her I fear she is right.
THANK GOD FOR BEST friends because as they say, the show must go on. And Cornelius was not letting up on this ridiculous idea of throwing a gallery showing in less than two weeks. Chrissy volunteered to come out and help me with all the major things that needed to get done. With her here it will go a lot smoother and a lot quicker since she can do this shit in her sleep.
I didn’t hear back from Hunter after I hung up on him. I guess I expected him to continue to try but he didn’t. It was like cold turkey. Not a single call, text or anything. Anything he needed, gallery wise, he left messages at random times in the night so no one would have to take his call. I wanted to break down on many occasions and just return his call only to hear his voice. I would then make up some odd reason and hang up on him. What was wrong with me? Where did that bad ass inside me go? I’ve spent the last week moping around like a heartsick teenager. Jeremy has texted me a bunch of times wanting to start up where we left off. I even thought about letting him just to get Hunter off my mind, but then I remembered him… and it. And there was no way that he, his mother and her meatloaf were getting anywhere near me.
I was fucking doomed.
The closer it got to the showing, the more of a mess I became. Thank God Chrissy finally showed up. I needed someone. I’m pretty sure I scared the crap out of her, and even myself, when the second I opened my door I began to sob like a damn baby. It took Chrissy a second to understand what was happening, since there was a better chance of me getting abducted by aliens than to see me cry. But as my best friend, she dropped her bags and began crying with me. Because that’s how we roll.
We’re sitting in my suite, three bottles of wine later and I have confessed every single emotion that’s been running through my brain since I hung up on Hunter.
“So are you going to say anything? You keep just staring at me like I’ve grown horns.” I say to Chrissy, who just keeps sipping her drink in shock I’m sure.
“So… Yep. I’m in a mixture of shock and awe right now and they are overlapping a bit. I have never really seen you care about someone, well besides me. And Pippa… and well Ian. But to see you so struck by one person awes me.”
Great so now she thinks I’m one big sissy. “Listen, I have a reputation to uphold, so keep that to yourself. I need your advice. What do I do?
“I think you wow him,” she replies.
“Wow him? What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means you wow him. Do something that throws him completely off his axis. The night of the show. Come on, you’re Lexi Hall. You will think of something,” she ends while we both in unison slam the rest of our wine.
Shit, she is right. I am mother fucking Lexi Hall.
‘Wow’-ing it is.
It’s the night of the gallery and I am a fucking wreck. I had to change three times because I was sweating through every single outfit before I even made it to the mirror to see how I looked. And why the hell was I caring so much? I didn’t do cheaters, so why was I so concerned on trying to impress Hunter?
I’m hoping it’s not too obvious why I am dressed in a skintight white dress. I decide to leave my panties at home for more reasons than I want to admit. But this is how I also plan to ‘wow’.
The gallery looks ah-mazing. For such a short amount of time to plan and set up, I am truly impressed with how it turned out. I just hope Hunter thinks so. Because I care or something! I’m also failing at acting all cool and non-caring since every time I hear a pin drop I turn so quickly at the door. I’m bound to give myself whiplash.
I’m speaking to a potential buyer when I finally spot him. Or should I say he spots me. It’s the feeling that someone is watching me that causes me to turn away from my touchy feely client and gaze straight into the eyes of Hunter James. And he looks fierce. But God does he look good. His chest is covered in a white, crisp, dress shirt allowing the top button to reveal just enough skin to taunt. Tonight he decided on black slacks that hug just the right places, showing off his perfect form. I turn back to the gentleman trying to calm myself, when I lower my eyesight to the hand that is now brushing up and down my arm. I look from his hand back to Hunter, and “Oh shit,” I caution, stepping back as the gentleman’s hand drops to his side.
“Miss Hall, is there something wrong? I must say, I would love to hear more about the artwork. I have a magnificent yacht—”
“You touch her again and I will make sure you and your yacht are never seen again,” Hunter threatens. My jaw falls to the ground. “Hunter,” I gasp. I turn to the potential buyer. “I am so sorry, I’m… he didn’t mean that—”
“Oh, I meant every word. You’re coming with me.” He grabs at my bicep hauling me toward the back room. I try to apologize to the client, but I am quickly out of sight.
“Hunter, Jesus Christ that was a potential buyer!” I snap at him.
“I don’t give a shit.”
“Well I do! It’s my job to make sure your work sells!” I fight back, tugging to free my arm. He doesn’t even respond. He drags me—semi unwillingly—to the back room, opening the engineer room. He spins me inside and follows behind me. Just as I turn to run or fight back, he is slamming the door and locking it. “Hunter for Christ’s sakes, what are you doing? This is your show you can’t simply kidnap—” His mouth is on me before I can finish my argument. God I hate him, but God do I want him more. I fight him back, but it’s in our kiss. I tug at his shirt pulling him closer to me, while he grabs my ass, crushing me into his hard body. Oh hell, how I’ve been missing this. His scent. His lips. His aggressiveness with me. My body is humming all over again, coming to life at his touch.
But then the reminder of his absence hits me. I grab at his shirt throwing him off me. “Stop!” I yell, watching him while he attempts to catch his breath. “Who do you think you are, coming in here thinking you can just take what you want?”
“I’m taking what is mine.”
The nerve! “I am not yours, Hunter. You belong to someone else. And I swear if you try anything again, I will fucking scream.” He prowls back into my personal space, testing me. “I bet you won’t, and do you want to know why?” He taunts me. I have no answers so I stay mute, “It’s because you feel it too. Your body hums for me, just as mine aches for you.” He grabs at my waist and my minimal effort to struggle does nothing as my pelvis slams into his hard erection. “You’re going to listen to me Lexi, and after I say what I have to say, if you still don’t want what is happening between us, I will walk out that door.”
He stares at me intensely, waiting for my reply. I watch his eyes dilate. He is close to losing control. I want to tell him to get lost, but I think about my conversation with Chrissy. And deep down I want to hear him out.
“You have three minutes, then I’m out of here.” I offer, just as he did when we first met. A small knowing smile crosses his face, understanding the action.
“Fine.” He starts lifting his hands and beginning to stroke my hips. “And no fucking touching!” I bark out, slapping his hands away from me. I certainly won’t be caring what he says if he is touching me the whole time.
He steps away from me, the damn smirk still on his face.
“Two minutes, Hunter.”
“I met her when I was still in France. We hit it off but it was nothing like what we have. She didn’t make me come alive the way you do. We had a few random nights, and we weren’t being careful. One day she came to me and told me she was pregnant. I wasn’t a ma
n who left someone like that so I told her I would take care of her. She convinced me to marry her. Unfortunately, the truth came out that she had tricked me. She wasn’t pregnant. She never was and she lied to me. She faked a miscarriage. I was not the most attentive while we were together. But it was because I wasn’t in love. I committed to taking care of them. But my heart was not for her to have. We fought one night and she admitted it. Told me how she tricked me. She was drunk and let her mouth run. It gave me the out I needed and I left. I came back to the states and I filed immediately for divorce. Her bitter side has fought me ever since. And that was over a year ago. I don’t even think she truly loved me. I think she saw money and power in my fame. Filing for divorce only chipped at her ego, so she thinks that denying me the divorce is getting back at me for leaving. And that’s it.” He finally ends.
“Why wouldn’t you force her to sign? Isn’t that what lawyers are for?”
“Yes and no. I submitted for an annulment. We married under false pretenses. She told me she would cooperate for a high price. I refuse to give her a dime. I won’t pay her for lying to me. She claims she can prove the pregnancy, but we both know she cannot. She has been successful in stalling in providing proof.”
I’m staring at him in disbelief. How can a woman be so cruel to someone so wonderful?
“So do you see? Do you understand that anything that has happened between us has been real?
“But the things she said in the room that day. About your temporary toys? Your muses?” I ask, feeling the hurt all over again.
“Because she was trying to get a rise out of the both of us. It’s what she does. I haven’t seen her in months. I don’t want that havoc in my life. It’s why I am so private. But somehow she uses her connections to track me down. Making her appearances here and there, stirring up her drama in my life and attempting to act as my wife.”
Faking It (UnReal #1) Page 14