by Lauren Dane
Looking ridiculously pleased, he took her hand and kissed it. “You did? Wow. Thank you, Dahlia. That means a lot to me.”
She shrugged and noticed he didn’t say he had told his mother. A pang of doubt rode her again. Was he ashamed of her?
Back at his penthouse she nearly ran back out the door when she saw the literal heap of presents. She had something for him in her bag, but it paled in comparison.
“Go on. Open up!”
She sat, and he handed her a large, flat box. When she opened it, a beautiful red dress slid toward her. She picked it up and the material made her want to weep. “You bought me a dress from Chanel?” She couldn’t even act outraged—the dress in her hands was a work of art.
“Yes. It’s beautiful and I saw it and knew you had to have it. Please, Dahlia. I know you’re uncomfortable with my spending money on you, but I have it and I wanted to buy it for you. Won’t you let me? I promise to restrain myself but for birthdays and major holidays.”
How could she refuse the dress in her hands? The look on his face? “Thank you.”
There were other lavish gifts, things she’d never have been able to afford. Still, each one was clearly something he’d thought about carefully.
“I’m just overwhelmed. Thank you, Nash. You’re so generous. I have something for you, too, but it’s, well, it’s not a Fendi bag.”
He touched her chin with a fingertip. “It’s from you. That’s what matters.”
Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the package.
Gleefully, he tore it open and looked at the shirt inside. “Dahlia.” He picked it up and looked at it.
“Do you like it?” Suddenly she felt eight years old. God, what made her think making him a shirt was a good idea? A man like him? She wanted to crawl into a hole.
“Do I like it? Did you make this?”
She nodded. “My mom helped. This was over my head, but she rocks with a needle and thread. I stole one of your dress shirts for your measurements.”
He pulled off his shirt and put hers on and she had to admit it fit perfectly. “This is brilliant, Dahlia. I love it. Thank you.”
* * *
Good God, she’d made him a shirt. Made it with her own hands and creativity. Crap, his presents didn’t even compare to her thought and effort. He was a fortunate man.
“I’m wearing this tonight.”
The smile he got in return made him want to toss her over his shoulder and stay in instead. He loved it when she was exposed like that. Not trying to hide herself from him.
But what he got was nearly as good as a sweaty romp. He got the intimacy of her standing next to him in his dressing area as she applied makeup and did her hair. It was a normal moment, but it meant so much. And the woman was made for expensive clothing. She looked so fucking gorgeous in the dress and shoes he wasn’t sure he wanted to take her out in public.
Her hair cascaded down her back in fat curls. Red lips matched the dress. Her body, generous, voluptuous, was framed by the deep scarlet of the dress, her breasts hugged lovingly. All of this accentuated by the height of the strappy heels.
Yep. Sex bomb—and she was all his.
It was so deceptively simple then for him. This life with her. He wanted it, and he wanted it for good.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Six months after that first dinner at her apartment, Dahlia could admit without hesitation that she loved Nash Emery. She was pretty sure he loved her, too. He certainly treated her that way.
But the doubts remained. Every time they were out and one of his friends would approach, she saw how they looked at her. They spoke of things she didn’t know, of people and places she was unfamiliar with. Many of the men looked her over in ways that made her feel cheap, and the women, if they addressed her at all, were patronizing, and it was clear they didn’t think much of her.
She hated that. Worse, she hated her hesitation in bringing it to Nash, who seemed totally clueless. She was a confident woman! She wanted to believe what her heart told her and she loathed the weakness she felt over it. Still, things were going better than they ever had, personally and professionally. Her job was amazing, and she was nearing the time when she’d be leaving The Dollhouse for good.
She headed into The Dollhouse a little early to stretch before opening.
Even better, she heard Nash’s voice coming from William’s office and she moved toward it, happy that he’d returned a few days early.
“I know what Lara says, William. She’s got a point…”
“Don’t be stupid. Dahlia’s got no family name. I can see the appeal, she’s a hot number. You fuck a girl like that. You buy her some expensive gifts, enjoy the hell out of her body for a while and you move on.
“You’ve been seen all over town with this girl for months now. It’s time to remember who and what you come from. Dahlia isn’t one of us. She can’t fit into our life. And you shouldn’t want her to. She’s not made for it. Can you imagine what Mother would do if you brought her home? You can’t. You bring home a woman like Lara Warner.”
Dahlia held her stomach, nausea holding her hostage as her world crashed around her head.
“Hey, Dahlia! Nice to see you tonight,” one of the bouncers called to her as he walked in the front doors.
The discussion in William’s office halted and she pushed the door open to see both brothers looking toward her guiltily.
Nash started to speak but she held up her hand as she stalked to William’s desk.
Rage warred with shame as she took a long look at her former boss. “You can go fuck yourself, you goddamn snob. I quit.” With that she turned on her heel and ran past Nash, shoving at him as he tried to grab her.
She heard him shouting her name moments later, but she ran to her car and drove the hell away from The Liege and the man she thought loved her.
Smacking the steering wheel with her hand she gnashed her teeth. Who the hell did Nash think he was, anyway? Lara had a point? She’d fallen prey to his charms and forgotten herself. That she’d actually thought he loved her made her feel like an utter fool, but, damn it, what made him and that prick brother of his better than her? She worked hard! Made her own way in the world.
Her phone rang. She tossed it down when she saw it was him.
Finally arriving home, she’d started to pull into the lot but saw Nash’s GTO. Reversing her car, she headed to Roseanne’s.
Roseanne took one look at her face and pulled her into the apartment and gave her a hug. “Honey, what is it?”
Her phone rang so many times she turned it off and told Roseanne the whole story.
Roseanne made a face. “What the fuck? I don’t understand. Look, Dahlia, I don’t know a lot of things but I do know Nash Emery is in love with you. William is an asshole, yes. But Nash? Honey, his face lights up every time you walk into a room. I don’t buy the idea of some secret hate about your lack of a pedigree.”
The tears came then, and Roseanne held her tight until they passed. “Oh, God, I’m in love with him. He always avoided talking about taking me to meet his mother. He’s ashamed of me. He’d say he wished I could come with him to London or Milan but never, ever that he wished his mother could meet me. I should have listened to my inner voice about it.”
“Sweetie, I think you should let him explain. If it’s not what you want to hear, what have you lost? But what if you misunderstood? You said you only heard William talking. Are you going to write this off so easily?”
“I don’t know what to do!” True, it had been just William. But what about that comment about Lara’s being right? And what about his being ashamed of her? The possibilities struck her frozen, unable to think about anything.
“What do you have to lose?”
“My heart. My dignity.”
“Girl, you already lost your heart and what the fuck is dignity when you’re sleeping on a garage-sale couch in my living room when a man like Nash just might truly love you?” Roseanne rolled her eyes. “I’m going to wo
rk. If you want to stay, the bed in my spare room is made up. I love you no matter what.”
Roseanne walked out and Dahlia put her head in her hands.
* * *
Nash had thought of nothing but Dahlia the whole plane trip back from New York. It was high time his family accepted that he was in love and with this woman for good. He also wanted to push through the last of Dahlia’s emotional walls and tell her he loved her straight out. He’d shown her, he’d said it in a hundred other ways but he wanted to tell her.
Knowing his mother would be the biggest battle, he decided to go to William first. He’d dropped his bags off at home and gone to The Dollhouse.
When he’d confessed the depth of his feelings for Dahlia, William’s attitude had gone from amusement to concern that Nash may have been the target of a gold digger. He hadn’t had any real idea of just who Dahlia was. Part of that was Nash’s fault for not having her around William more socially so he could get to know her better.
Worse, Lara Warner had been talking shit around town. Though she did have a point. Nash did have a responsibility to his station in life—a responsibility to make it one-hundred-percent clear that he was with Dahlia Baker. Not as a fling. Not as a pretty bit on the side. But for good.
He’d been on the verge of interrupting his brother to reiterate just how deeply he felt for Dahlia, to tell William why he trusted her, when they’d heard Dahlia’s name being called. Time had slowed as he’d turned to see her standing there in the hallway.
Nash would never in a million years forget the look on her face as she’d stood there, obviously hurt and humiliated. He’d jumped up to explain, but her hand had flown up, cutting him off, and she’d stalked in, told William off and stormed out.
He’d been so stunned by the whole thing, that lapse of time had given her a head start. He stood there, watching her taillights, his stomach sinking. Grabbing his phone, he called hers and got voice mail as he got into his car and raced toward her place. Arriving first, he thanked his forethought to take the back way.
Using his charm and a hundred-dollar bill, he managed to convince the manager to let him inside her apartment. Nash had been there often enough that the guy knew him by sight.
And then he waited.
After her mailbox filled up he called William and chewed him a new one.
“I didn’t know she was standing there!” At least his brother sounded guilty.
“William, how can you work with these women and think about them the way you do? She’s a good person. Do you know I have to talk her into taking presents from me? She could have worked me for tens of thousands of dollars by now, but she goes out of her way to pay every bit she can. I love her. I mean to be with her and if I can get her to take me back after this mess, I’m asking her to move in with me and marry me by the end of the year.”
“I think she’s out of your comfort zone, Nash. I think being with a woman like Dahlia is going to be a big test for you.”
“A test? What the hell are you talking about? We’ve been together for six months. It’s not like I’m nineteen years old and I met her yesterday.”
“You’re going to bring her to social functions and she’ll be uncomfortable. Your friends and family will be uncomfortable because she’s not one of us. It’ll eat away at both of you.”
“This isn’t about you and Leah, William. Or is it? Is that why the two of you broke it off?” Leah had been William’s fiancée of two years. They’d broken off the engagement suddenly, and William had refused to talk about it. Nash began to wonder just how much of William’s feelings about Dahlia, about women in general, had to do with Leah.
“Not your business at all. When it comes down to it, Nash, you can’t trust this woman because you have something she doesn’t. Money.”
“This is about Leah, isn’t it? Was Leah a gold digger?”
“We’re done with this subject. If you love Dahlia, fine. That’s enough for me, but I want you to remember this is not going to be a bed of roses. It’s easy for you to downplay the class thing, but she’s the one who has to suffer for it.”
“I’m not asking you to name a hospital wing after her, William! What I’m asking is simple—accept her because I love her. It’s not a hard choice for me and it’s a bullshit ultimatum.”
William sighed and Nash wished like hell he’d known more about the breakup between his brother and his ex.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever I can to make her feel welcome. I’ll even call her and offer her her job back.” William chuckled. “She sure told me, though.”
Nash laughed. “Yeah, she’s everything, William.”
“Well, then, go get her back.”
After hanging up, he picked up a book and settled in to wait.
For want of something to do to make the wait easier, he called her cell again and was able to leave a message. At least her mailbox was empty. She’d listened to her messages. Or he hoped she had without just deleting them all.
* * *
After she stared at her phone for an hour, she decided to listen to her messages. The first ones were just demands that she talk to him, call him back, meet him and let him explain.
But the last one he’d talked until he’d gotten cut off. He told her he loved her and was in the process of explaining that to his brother. He said he’d been about to interrupt William to defend her when she’d overheard.
He loved her. Or so he said.
Curling up on the couch, she watched reality television and fell asleep.
* * *
Nash hadn’t been sleeping when his phone rang. He’d been lying in her bed, breathing her in, seeing her everywhere and wanting to hold her so badly he ached.
Surprisingly, it was Roseanne from The Dollhouse. “Yo, Emery, I hear you tossed Dahlia to the curb. You lookin’ for some action? I can help you move on really easily.”
Indignant, Nash sat up. “Hey! I thought she was your friend. I didn’t toss Dahlia to the curb. I love her! What the hell is wrong with you?”
Roseanne laughed. “Okay, you pass, Nash. Of course I’m Dahlia’s friend. I was testing you. She’s here in my guest room and she’s strung out and you’ve made her cry so much her face is a mess. And you know how much it takes to make a face like that look a mess? I am very displeased with you.”
“That was a test? You were yanking my chain for fun? Is she all right? Can I come and see her?”
“You had a reputation for a reason—I wanted to be sure you really loved her. She doesn’t know what to do. She loves you and she feels betrayed and humiliated. No, you can’t come over. She’d kill me if she knew I told you this much. Plus, I want her to rest. She has classes tomorrow. She’ll go home after that. If you’re lurking, don’t be stupid and park in the lot where she can see you.” With that, Roseanne hung up.
CHAPTER NINE
Dahlia got up and out of Roseanne’s first thing the next morning. She moved through her day in a daze, not really hearing anything anyone said. Finally, at four, she drove home on autopilot, relieved and saddened that Nash’s GTO wasn’t in her lot anymore.
Slumping up the stairs, she let herself into her apartment and tossed her bag to the side only to jump three feet in the air when Nash spoke from where he was sitting on her couch.
“Are you all right?”
He looked tired. Sad. A tiny bit lost. And, damn the man, he still looked handsome and sexy.
“Your car is gone! What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded, arms crossed over her chest.
“Dahlia, please listen to me. I’m sorry you heard William say that. I know you must feel hurt being spoken of like you were just a cheap lay but…”
“I was so stupid. I should have known better. I knew what you were and I fell for it, anyway. It’s my fault, really, for thinking that a playboy who fucked everything willing would have real feelings for me other than wanting to bang me.”
He stopped like he’d been slapped. Storming over to her, h
e grabbed her up and tossed her gently on the couch. “You’re going to sit there and listen to me. Yes, you are stupid, Dahlia. You’re so fond of talking about how everyone judges you and how you’re so hurt by stereotypes, but you continue to hold on to this stereotype about me that isn’t true anymore. I have never, ever, given you any reason to doubt my feelings and commitment to you.” He began to pace and she watched him warily.
“I want you to name one instance, other than the first time I hit on you, that I’ve treated you badly. Made you feel anything less than like the woman I love. Yes, that’s right, Dahlia Baker, I love you. Even though you’re difficult and prickly and you have a major stick up your ass about my money. So go on. Tell me and if you can come up with one time I’ve acted like a playboy out to fuck anything willing—other than you—I’ll walk out that door and never bother you again.”
He sat on the chair across the room, staring at her with his arms crossed.
Standing up, she went to the kitchen and got herself a bottled water and went back to sit down, tossing him one as well.
He was right. Aside from that crap in William’s office and the first time he hit on her, he’d been genuine and caring with her. Made her feel beautiful and respected and, yes, loved. He’d cheered her on with her new job and had appreciated how much she loved the creative outlet of dancing at The Dollhouse. As it turned out, not very playboy-on-the-make at all.
Putting her head in her hands, she leaned forward. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I judged you the same way people have judged me all my life.”
She looked up at him and saw the unshed tears in his eyes.
“But it still doesn’t excuse you talking about me like I was a whore.”
Staying in the chair, he stared at her. “Even after all of the stuff you said, you still don’t trust me. William was the one who said all that shit. Who did you hear talking, Dahlia?”
“Both of you! William said most of it, but I heard you say Lara had a point!”
“She did! About me having a responsibility, about us being from different backgrounds. My responsibility was to make sure everyone knew what you mean to me. But you didn’t even let me explain. You just jumped to some kind of conclusion that I was an asshole just using you. I haven’t done anything to make you feel that way, and I’m sick and goddamned tired of you being so defensive and distrusting when I’ve gone out of my way to show you how much I treasure you!”