“Yes, I am,” I repeated. “Or I’ll blackball you.” Tristan looked at me, a wild look of panic in his eyes, so I pressed my advantage. “Nolan will support me. He and Charlie are philanthropists who specialize in women’s and children’s charities. If he finds out what you did to Lydia. He’ll make sure you never grace the stage of The Cordoza. Ever.”
Tristan’s shocked expression faded away. Then he began to laugh, and as much as I hated it, his wily personality saw through my bluff. “There’s no way you could do that,” he said.
I knew it. I could appeal to Nolan or Charlie, but Anne Banks ultimately ran the show. She could do whatever she wanted with Grantham’s billions propping her up. My threat was empty, and my brother held all the power, again. I hated the fact that the man wearing the black hat could emerge victorious so many times in a row.
He showed me his cell phone, let me read the text Lydia had sent. When I did, I felt my heart sink into my stomach. Then, emotion erupted from my heart, spiderwebbing throughout my limbs to tingle my fingers and toes in toxic rage.
“If you don’t mind,” Tristan said. “I’m gonna go. I have plans tonight. Lydia wants to talk to me. Says it’s important.” He got up, and without saying goodbye, pranced around the aisles to the lighted exit.
I sat alone in the theater, numb with rage as I stared at the empty stage. Amelia’s visage came to me in a moment of pain and weakness. If only she were here with me. I struggled to work through my flashing emotions. I couldn’t control her actions, but I was angry that Lydia would sleep with me, then speak to my brother. What was so important that she’d put herself in jeopardy again?
After a few more minutes spent in irritated self–pity, I pulled myself from the seats and exited the theater. I headed straight for the nearest Starbucks, anxious for some caffeinated fortification. I glanced at my phone, and I really didn’t have enough time to go to my office to drown myself in contracts in quiet solitude since it wasn’t a work day. With a huge inhale, I decided to stay inside the coffeehouse and enjoy the noise around me as I stewed.
I couldn’t think about her anymore. I couldn’t let myself focus on Lydia. I had a job and a life, and I couldn’t let her control my emotions, especially if she would do something so stupid on a whim. Maybe she was just like Tristan. Maybe she did belong with someone more like her. Someone who wasn’t me. I let out a low exhale and swept all traces of Lydia from my mind as I took a gulp of my dark roast. I preferred the messy static in my brain to the whirring thoughts.
A woman didn’t belong there. Especially one who didn’t even know what was good for her.
You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept. From the very beginning, your manner impressed me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit and your selfish disdain for the feelings of others. I had not known you a month before I felt you were the last man in the world whom I could ever marry.
– Elizabeth Bennet
Chapter 14
Lydia
My stomach flipped over as I waited for Tristan at Grounds Zero. I had dressed in skinny jeans, a loose cable–knit sweater and had my long hair swept up and away from my face. Some ballet flats completed my nondescript look. The last thing I wanted was to look enticing, sexy or like I welcomed any further advances from the man.
As I picked up my vanilla latte for a long sip, I stared at the slight tremble in my hand. He couldn’t do anything in a public place for Pete’s sake. I guess I was still shaken from our last encounter. I didn’t want a repeat.
His brother’s handsome face never strayed far from my mind. All I could think about was Callum and our spectacular night together. Even though he’d called and texted multiple times, I felt like I couldn’t have the do–over I needed and wanted until this last loose end was firmly tied. I didn’t want to be the cause of familial discord. Once I talked to Tristan, I’d use my way with words and get him to see the light.
I should probably cancel. Tell Tristan to get lost through the black silence of dead air. But I didn’t. I very patiently waited and came to terms with my decision.
It was just a cup of coffee between two people with things in common, including one incredibly hot Markham. How badly could it go?
Every muscle in my body tightened when he blew through the front door. And every female head in the room watched him as he sauntered toward me. If they only knew. The silver foil wrapper held a spoiled piece of candy deep inside.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I answered as if nothing had happened between us. The last thing I wanted to do was make him annoyed right out of the gate. I’d already seen that side of him, and I didn’t like it. If truth be told, he scared me.
“I see you saved me a seat.” He indicated the chair next to me. I’d deliberately grabbed leather seats by the fire, not wanting to sit across from him. The least amount of eye contact between us the better. “I’ll just grab a drink and join you. I’m anxious to hear what’s so important that you just had to text me.” He smiled, and as he walked away, threw a cryptic statement over his shoulder. “I have something really important to ask you as well.”
Probably wants me on his arm for his next premier, I thought. Not going to happen. I’m busy that night. In fact, I’m busy every single night for the rest of my life, stage monkey.
Once Tristan returned with his coffee and had settled in beside me, I had to look at him. I debated how to open the conversation, and I felt like I was stomping on eggshells instead of the stained hardwood of the coffee house.
Part of me longed to be with Callum. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the man and his passionate kisses. If tonight went well, I’d never have to tell him how I told his brother to blow off. Instead, Tristan would have to tell him. If he proved brave enough for an adult conversation and didn’t go running off to tattle to their mother.
“Can you give me a hint as to your exciting news?” I asked, trying my best to be friendly. “Is it a new role?”
“No, that’s not it at all. It’s far more important than any role. No. Scratch that. It’s probably the most important role of my life.”
Now he had me really curious. I hoped rather than believed that I wouldn’t even have to admonish him. That he’d bring his strange stalking behavior up first, apologize and leave me alone forevermore.
“Will you at least tell me what it’s about?” I asked, wanting something to go on to strategize on how to direct the course of the conversation.
“You aren’t very patient, are you?” Tristan asked. “That surprises me for a writer. Sometimes, you don’t reveal the juicy parts until the very end. How do you go months writing dull words on the page without spilling the beans?”
I lifted a shoulder. “It can be a challenge. Poppy says lack of patience is my worst trait.”
Tristan chuckled and leaned over the arm of his chair to get closer to me. He winked and whispered as if we were operatives in the CIA. “Is it your only bad trait?”
I forced my lips to turn into a smile. “Yes. That’s it. Other than that, I am practically perfect in every way. The ideal woman.”
“I’d say you’re more than practically perfect,” Tristan said. “I’m glad you texted me. I didn’t like the way we left things. There’s no reason we can’t be…friends.”
I nodded, staying in deflecting mode. “So, how’s the show?” It was a blessing that he had the ability to talk at length about himself. I pretended to listen while I stared out the window at people going about their normal business. It was just past sunset and everyone else in the city seemed to be rushing home from somewhere.
“It’s good. Reviews are good, audiences are good. It’s all good.” I raised my eyebrows. Callum had mentioned things weren’t going well for Tristan’s latest production. “Lydia, do you think life is supposed to be an adventure?”
I narrowed my eyes. “That was a hint. I thought you weren’t going to give me one. As an autho
r, I’m pretty decent at reading between the lines.”
Tristan grinned. “You are good at picking up on subtle hints. So I think you deserve one.”
“Really?”
The noise of the evening crowd spilled out all around us as we sat in our little bubble, seemingly content with each other, not revealing too little or too much. Keeping it safe and vanilla.
Something came over me in that moment. I wanted nothing more than to shake things up. Maybe take my now cold latte and throw it in his smug face. I wish he wouldn’t draw this out like his latest performance. I just wanted to tell him to scram and that I never wanted to see him again.
I didn’t truly feel anything while I was with Tristan, except annoyance and trepidation. And the more time wore on and the deeper I knew him, the more I disliked him. But I’d temper it for Callum’s sake. I hoped to see Callum for many months to come, and I had to learn to get along with the fam.
“I’ve been rereading your books,” Tristan said. I raised my eyebrows, feeling none of the normal positivity I’d feel when a fan told me that information. Him reading my books seemed more like a violation of my personal space. The intimate space housing my creative mind.
“You have?” I asked in order to continue praying to the God of conversational reciprocity.
“Of course. You inspire me. You help me. You turn me on with the words. In mind and in body.”
“That’s always nice to hear,” I said. “I’m glad you like them. It’s always kind of a shock. I mean, when a man reads my books. You’re not my typical reader.”
“Why?” Tristan asked, and he actually blushed just a little, “You’re good. You’re funny and talented, and you’re popular. I don’t know why any man wouldn’t appreciate that. I suppose unless that man is my boring and staid brother so wrapped up in his legal contracts he could bottle his own brand of ennui and sell it as a body spray.”
No. All conversation about Callum was strictly off limits. Time to steer it back up out of the ditch. “I appreciate the compliment. Even if it is from a male fan.” His hand found mine, and he gave me a quick, reassuring squeeze.
“I’m right you know.” He had the gift of saying anything with such conviction that I almost had to believe him. He was overconfident, not just in himself, but in me too. “I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. You’re talented, and you deserve every bit of your success now and in the future.”
He wanted something from me. Now, I just had to wheedle it out of him. If it was a simple boon, I’d grant it just to be done with him. Payment for getting the hell out of my life and Callum’s.
I relaxed into a smile, thinking soon this three–ring circus would all be over. But Tristan surprised me again, cracking the lion tamer’s whip like P.T. Barnum in stage makeup. I wondered if he could sense that I held back from him, that he no longer held any favor with me and was grasping at straws.
“Hey…uh…Lydia…uh.” Tristan stammered for the first time since I’d met him. When he spoke again, I reared back in shock at the sincerity behind his words. “I’m really sorry about that day in your apartment. I’ve come to see that I didn’t put my best foot forward. I’m sorry for scaring you, I am.” I could feel my eyes widening. Maybe this was a sign of maturity. Maybe this was him growing up.
“You are?”
“I know, I need to work on some social skills, but I’m hoping you’ll let me.” He sounded serious and earnest. With his eyes focused on only me, I could see his level of commitment to his apology. And I’d graciously accept. Why not?
“You did scare me, but after our discussion today, I have no reason to think you’ll ever do it again.”
I wanted to put it behind us, and I could tell he did too. After his warm and grateful smile, it dawned on me that I’d never seen his lips turn up in a genuine way until this moment. It lit his face, making him seem younger and charming. He had the type of smile, that real expression, which made me want to beam right back at him.
“We’re okay?” Tristan asked.
Even with thoughts of his brother floating in my head, and my stomach in knots, I nodded. “Of course we are.”
“Good,” Tristan said, snuggling back into his chair, and staring straight ahead. “Surprised?”
I blinked. “Yes.” For once, it was a good surprise. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but I hissed out a breath of gratitude.
A few calm moments passed in reflection before he spoke again. “I want to talk to you about something. I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I think you’ll agree, but I want you to hear me out. Don’t give an answer until the end.”
What more was there to discuss? He’d apologized, and I’d accepted. Case closed.
“Sure,” I said, drawing out the syllable. My interest was piqued, and as an author, I had to assuage it.
“Lydia.” There was warmth when he said my name, a velvety quality I had never heard before. Not lust. Not love. Something else. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. “I want you to marry me.”
He made it very clear he wanted nothing more than to be out of my sight.
– Elizabeth Bennet
Chapter 15
Lydia
I shook my head, not sure I heard him correctly. I tried to wet my arid throat but choked, sputtering on a few droplets of cold coffee.
“You what?” I asked on the slight chance that I needed to clean the wax out of my ears. But Tristan wasn’t joking. He looked so relaxed, so calm, like we were discussing the weather, and the slight chance of the first snow over the weekend.
He met my eye. “I want you to hear me out.” I fought against the rushing panic surging through my body, trying to remain calm, so I didn’t set him off. He’d obviously thought this ridiculous idea through as he already had his soliloquy prepared.
“You are beautiful, smart and talented, I also know you’re lonely and need a companion as much as I do. I need someone like you by my side, and you need me.” He leaned forward, reaching for my hand. I was too shocked to even pull away. “I’m going to be famous. With the rise of the King James, I’ll be so famous. I’ll be the next Matthew Broderick or Hugh Jackman. I need someone equally as talented to walk this life with. Someone just as creative that gets it. That gets me. That appreciates me just as much or even more as my adoring fans.”
“Tristan–”
I had been correct in my assumption that he only wanted something from me. He didn’t just want my body, he wanted my very soul. Before I could complete my sentence, he cut me off. “With a clever author like you, it would take my career to the next level. It would be a bonus to both of us. We would both benefit.”
It was so clear that he was seriously thinking about this and had been for a long time. He had it all figured out, the life we would lead together. He just hadn’t considered the most important things. Love and mutual respect.
Callum had warned me that Tristan only thought about himself. I had ignored that warning and had ended up here. So much for heading this runaway chuck wagon off at the pass before it fell off the lip of the Grand Canyon.
“I don’t want to marry you, Tristan,” I managed to sputter. “Do you even like me?”
Mild panic flared in his eyes and behind it something else that caused me to shiver. “Lydia, you can’t leave me.” He ignored my second question. He was so close to me, he snaked a hand around the nape of my neck, and I had to inhale to keep from getting sick. How had this turned on a dime? Veering completely out of control?
I thought of Callum. Everything inside me wanted to flee to the ladies’ room, call him, and ask him to rescue me from his brother. Again.
I rose and began to pack my phone and notepad into my purse. “Tristan, I texted you and brought you here because I wanted things to end politely between us. I won’t marry you. I won’t even be your friend. We are going to remain common and indifferent acquaintances, and that’s it. Do you hear me?”
There I went quoting Pride and Prejudice again because my stress r
esponse had kicked in. The look on his face made my heart lurch. Had he ever been told no during the entire course of his life?
I decided that Callum didn’t need to know about his brother’s wild proposal. I didn’t think that anything good would come from Callum learning about this bizarre coffee meeting. My text. My stupidity. Anything at all.
“Lydia!” Tristan shrieked. He obviously felt the situation slipping away from him. And it was. I planned to never speak to him again unless Callum was present to act as a buffer. He grabbed my hand and tried to pull me back down into the chair.
“No!”
He yanked again, hurting my shoulder. I lost my balance and fell backward. My heart galloped until I felt the cushion of the chair hit me in the back of my legs. What the hell? He could have injured me or worse.
“Lydia, I can’t let you leave here until you agree to be with me. To marry me.” His voice had gone so quiet and cold. I felt shivers race down my back. I simply stared at him. I was scared of what he might do. I knew he had anger issues and my public persona would take a hit if he caused a scene here.
“Don’t you ever touch me again,” I hissed.
“I’ll do whatever I fucking want to do,” he shouted, and I jumped. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I fought them back. The woman next to us stared, her eyes wide with confusion and surprise.
“Miss, do you need help?” she asked.
“No, we’ll be fine,” I managed to squeak out. “But I’ll be sure to let you know if we do.” She appraised the scene for a few tense moments and then went back to her iPad. I shot Tristan a warning glance. How dare he do this to me?
“You’re nothing but a stupid bitch,” he whispered, barely audible, so only I’d understand the venom in those words by reading his terse lips and his angry facial expression.
I couldn’t wait for someone to rescue me this time. I had to leave and hope he didn’t follow. I palmed my phone, ready to hit 9–1–1 if he so much as looked at me funny outside of the building.
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