Prove Me Wrong

by Gemma Hart

  Brenda’s eyes widened. The Devons Design Awards would be the ultimate exposure. Attending that event would thrust me and my name out into the limelight, giving me an even better shot at attracting top notch buyers.

  “Of course!” she said.

  “No!” I said, at the same time.

  Brenda gave me a surprised look that was undercut with a glare of warning. This was a huge chance. Don’t blow it! her eyes said.

  But I didn’t care. A whole night alone with Jonah Lowell? No way.

  Sure, I had thought I was over him. After all, I had spent a whole year pushing the memories of him down the drain. But standing here, face to face with him, I realized I had just been deluding myself.

  I was no match for him.

  But there was no way I could explain any of this to Brenda. So I just stood there, looking at her with the wide eyed blank look of a goldfish.

  “Of course she’ll attend,” Brenda said firmly, eyeing me in case I protested again. I wanted to but just didn’t know how. This whole event had gotten so out of control. “She would absolutely love to.”

  Jonah gave me a wry smile as he looked over my gaping and slightly horrified expression.

  “I’m glad,” he said, piercing me with that dark gaze. “I’m looking forward to being your date for the evening, Miss Daniels.”

  I swallowed.

  Oh god.

  Chapter Ten

  Jonah

  I checked my phone again and saw the notification from the driver. They were on their way and on time.

  Good.

  I looked up at my own driver as he smoothly drove down the busy street towards the Lincoln Center.

  I pulled a little at my cuff and couldn’t help but smile as I looked down at my phone.

  Originally, I had wanted to pick up Clara from her place but I had been sidelined by work. Lately, Martin had been making some outlandish overtures with DXC Global. Since partnering with Lowell Enterprises, I’ve noticed Martin’s more erratic business practices.

  I had to stay a little later to ensure that the company would still be standing when I returned the next day.

  So I had sent a car to Clara’s place to pick her up so we could meet at the event.

  I had texted her to let her know when to expect the car. As expected, the woman had no shortage of sass, even through texts.

  I’ve arranged for a car to be sent for you by 8 PM. It’ll be a black sedan. I’m sorry I couldn’t come to pick you up personally. But I’m looking forward to seeing you at the dinner. – Jonah

  I won’t need a car. I can get there myself. – Clara

  I’m afraid once a car has been arranged, it’s been arranged. Now only the hand of God could change that. So I’d suggest you avoid divine intervention and make use of the car. – Jonah

  God wouldn’t touch you or anything you own with a ten foot pole. And how did you get my number? – Clara

  You gave it to me, remember? A year ago. – Jonah

  Well, that’s one mistake I can kick myself for. Anyway, I’ll see you at the event. Stop texting me. – Clara

  Don’t forget the car. Black sedan. – Jonah

  Stop. Texting. – Clara

  It’ll be there at 8 PM. – Jonah

  STOP. – Clara

  I’m looking forward to tonight. – Jonah

  Clara had stopped replying then, a clear indication of her annoyance. I grinned.

  I knew this was dangerous territory to be walking on. Really, I should be shaking the shit out of myself, asking, what the fuck do you think you are doing?

  I wasn’t an idiot. I knew I had hurt her. Terribly. I had meant to. I wanted to make sure that she knew in no uncertain terms the fucked up-ness of Jonah Lowell. I wanted to make sure that she forgot me and threw away my memories so she could move on and find someone more worthy of her.

  And in regards to me, none of it had changed. I still was an asshole. Only an asshole would text and tease a girl he had trampled on just a year ago.

  But even still, inside I knew it wasn’t just asshole behavior that was drawing me to Clara.

  There was something more. Something genuine. Something real.

  Before Clara had walked through those doors at the Aarons Building, I would’ve said there would be no way I would ever talk to Clara again. I wanted better things for her and it would be selfish to just give in to my basic needs.

  Before Clara had walked through those doors, I knew—knew—I would never see her again. I would never talk to her again. She belonged to a different world and I couldn’t touch it. And I wouldn’t touch it. For her sake.

  But as soon as Clara walked through those doors, all of those feelings had disappeared like a puff of smoke.

  For a year, I had told myself that the feelings I had had for Clara, the nights we had spent together, were just intense infatuation. It was lust for something different and new. Clara was sweet and unspoiled, so different from most of the women I met in New York. That was why I wanted her. That was the only reason.

  Except it wasn’t.

  And that became clear the moment she walked into that buyers event. Catching sight of her simple beauty, it all came rushing back to me. That intense, almost gut aching need for her hit my stomach like a blow. My hands twitched to touch her soft skin, her silky hair. And my chest tightened as I remembered just how much I loved being with her, by her side.

  But if I wanted to be a decent man for once in my life, I had to stay away from her.

  I snorted as I looked out the tinted car window.

  But when was I ever a decent man?

  Vanessa’s voice still rang in my head the week I had returned from Vermont.

  Standing in my apartment, she had her hands on her slim hips, her eyes narrowed at me in a vicious gaze.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” she had demanded. “We’re engaged. You can’t just break up with me.”

  I poured myself a drink from my bar, my back to her. “Why not?” I said without rancor. I just wanted her to get the fuck out. “Engagements get broken all the time.”

  I turned around and saw Vanessa’s sharp cheekbones begin to flush an angry red. “Well, they don’t get broken with me, Jonah Lowell,” she said with solid certainty. “I’m not one of those floozy models you’ve thrown away by the dozen. Or the Hollywood actresses you fuck and forget. I’m a Winters. My father owns half of New York!”

  “And I own the other half,” I said calmly. “And let me tell you, I have the more valuable half. But none of that means shit right now. The engagement’s off. Do with it what you will but I’m not getting fucking married.”

  Vanessa stared at me. There was a beat of silence where we just stood, regarding each other. Her in anger and me in complete dispassion.

  “Is it the girl?” she asked suddenly. “Is it the little shop girl from Vermont?”

  I jerked in surprise at the question. It felt odd and uncomfortable to have Vanessa refer to Clara. She wasn’t pure. I wasn’t pure. Neither of us should be allowed to say Clara’s name.

  “No,” I said simply, staring at her coolly over my whiskey glass. “It’s you. We’re not a match and I don’t want to fucking pretend we are anymore. Tell the papers you blew off the engagement, if you want. I’ll do my best to look heartbroken in front of the press.” I took a sip of my drink. “You’re reputation will be safe.”

  Vanessa gave a cold laugh and shook her head, letting her dark hair fly back.

  “Baby,” she said darkly, “don’t you worry about my reputation.” She took slow steps towards me till she was standing only a breath away. She ran her hands down my thighs, lightly raking her nails against me.

  “You’re going to regret this,” she said in a soft voice against my cheek. “You don’t play me like some cheap whore and get away with it.” She lightly kissed me against my ear. “You’re going to regret this.”

  When she pulled away, I looked at her coldly. Her touch brought nothing out of me and her penchant f
or the dramatics was beginning to get old real fast. I had just had to tear the heart out of probably the only girl who had thought me worth anything more than my money. I wasn’t in the mood for Vanessa’s silly games.

  I gave her nothing. When she saw my lack of reaction, her eyes sharpened in anger and her lips tightened but she pulled away. She grabbed her purse and marched out the door, slamming it hard in her wake.

  I sighed, relieved to have her gone.

  Leaning back in the car now, I sighed again. That had been nearly a year ago. Vanessa, true to form, had made sure she told every publication that she had broken off the engagement. When interviewed directly, she had said in an elegant manner that she just found that she wasn’t ready for marriage.

  But through side sources and friends, she made sure stories of Jonah Lowell’s impotence or tiny dick were leaked to trash magazines. She wanted to make sure I was smeared everywhere.

  Like I gave a fuck.

  The press had a field day for about a week and then gave up when I had no comment to make. It was boring when the attacks were only one sided. So even in her revenge, Vanessa had been foiled.

  I’m sure she was pissed about that as well.

  Well, add it to my tab of women I had pissed off over my lifetime.

  The car pulled up smoothly into the line up of cars that were waiting to drop off their illustrious cargo at the head of the red carpet.

  We were here.

  Of all the women I had hurt, there was only one I regretted. Only one that I wanted to rectify. Only one that I wanted to hold again.

  I was playing with fire here. I knew it. There was no guarantee that I wouldn’t break Clara’s heart again, intentional or not. I just had a knack for such things.

  So I had to remember to keep a little distance. Be a little aloof.

  I looked out my window and saw the car ahead of me open the back seat door. A vision of deep purple exited the car.

  The deep purple dress hugged her body like a glove. The dark color emphasized the creaminess of her skin. She looked like a delicate dessert. Her silky honey blonde hair was tossed up in a chic chignon that left her neck tantalizingly bare.

  My biceps flexed instinctively upon seeing her. I wanted to grab her and hold her to me.

  Keep a little distance, my brain reminded me. Use this night to help promote her. Focus on the professional aspects of the evening.

  But I knew my body wasn’t listening. It was already humming for her.

  For Clara.

  Chapter Eleven

  Clara

  I shifted a little uncomfortably on my feet, standing off to the edge of the red carpet entrance. I saw one of the ushers look at me oddly as I avoided the entrance. Other attendees were already walking by, smiling and waving to the press in their glittering gowns and sleek suits.

  The silky satin of my dress swished against my thighs. I had nothing remotely formal in my closet for an evening like the Devons Design Awards but Brenda had rectified that immediately.

  She had a beautiful gown in a deep, almost blue-ish, purple sent to my apartment with a note telling me to be a little more charming than I was at the buyers event.

  Like, 100% more charming. Please. Xoxo Brenda.

  I snorted a little at her plead. I’m sure I must’ve looked odd to her. After all, I wanted to succeed more than any of her clients. I wanted to prove myself amongst all the other designers. But all of that determination and strength dissolved in the face of Jonah Lowell.

  I could explain to Brenda where I was coming from but the idea of having one more person look at me pityingly was more than I could bear.

  So I had slipped on the fitted gown and had reluctantly taken Jonah’s car to the event, hoping that there would be enough people to fit between myself and Jonah. Preferably, the entire populace of New York City.

  Jonah had said he’d meet me at the event but now that I was here, I wasn’t sure if that meant outside of the red carpet or inside the dinner. If it was inside, I wanted to find an usher and ask if there was a back way into the dinner, avoiding the flashing lights of the red carpet.

  I knew Brenda would kill me for avoiding the free press of walking the carpet to this exclusive dinner but I just couldn’t do it on my own. I was in such a swirl of anxiety. If only Brenda had been able to come too!

  But before I could make a step towards an usher to ask about the back way, I felt a large warm hand on my waist, turning me around.

  I turned around to have my breath immediately taken away.

  This was a Jonah I recognized and yet had never met.

  I still saw the familiar raw dark blue gaze and the sharp, strong jawline. But gone was the dark stubble and mussed up hair that he had sported at Mackleson’s.

  Now his jaw was clean shaven, showing off the strong angles of his face. His dark hair was sleeked back, making him look like a lethal panther waiting in the jungle to pounce.

  In fact, that’s exactly what he looked like—a dangerous panther. And I could tell that I was the prey.

  Tall and broad, he wore his suit like a second skin. I knew there was no man on the planet that could look this good clothed or naked.

  And I absolutely wanted nothing to do with such a man.

  I drew in a shaky breath.

  Jonah smiled down at me, his eyes glinting with warmth and pleasure. “You look beautiful,” he said in a deep murmur.

  Absolutely refusing to let my cheeks blush with pleasure, I nodded and said in a stiff formal voice, “You look very nice as well.”

  I saw his lips twitch but he said nothing else except motioning me towards the red carpet. I took in a deep breath and drew back my shoulders. I wasn’t one for the spotlight. I was totally fine working quietly in the background. But I knew that someone like Jonah Lowell couldn’t avoid press and as his…no, not date…companion for the evening, I needed to brave it as well.

  Plus, I knew Brenda would want me to. It would be good exposure for my name.

  I just didn’t know if I wanted that exposure to be linked with Jonah Lowell.

  With a large hand on my back gently guiding me, we walked down the carpet together.

  Cameras flashed in a frenzy.

  “Mr. Lowell! Mr. Lowell! Who’s your date?”

  “Jonah! Give us a word! Who’re you with tonight? Who’s the lucky lady?”

  “Miss! Can you tell us how you know Jonah Lowell?”

  But Jonah just gave a wave and stood for a few minutes to allow photographs to be taken.

  I was overwhelmed by the questions and the flashes and began to feel a little weak kneed.

  But before I could trip or collapse, a strong arm wrapped itself around my waist.

  Instinctively, I pulled away but Jonah held on, keeping me close by his side.

  Leaning his head towards me, he murmured, “We’ll walk to the end of the carpet, stop once more for photos, and then head on inside. The only press inside will be focused on the stage and awards ceremony.”

  I nodded. Somehow knowing about what I needed to do next helped calm me. I didn’t know if he knew how nervous I really was but it helped to feel his solid grip around me, giving me strength.

  We walked towards the end of the carpet, posed once more, and then headed in. I released a huge breath once we were inside the gorgeously decorated hotel ballroom.

  I looked up and saw Jonah grinning at me.

  “Feel better?” he asked.

  So he had noticed how nervous I was. I nodded. “Much,” I said honestly. “I don’t like that much attention.”

  He nodded, sympathetically. “It’s not always fun, that’s for sure.”

  I looked him over. If anyone knew how troubling or annoying press could be, that would be Jonah. His whole life had basically been documented through the press.

  “Why don’t we find our seat?” Jonah suggested. Putting a hand at my lower back again, he guided me through the elegant and illustrious crowd.

  Reminding myself to keep a distance, I tr
ied to walk faster so I could avoid his touch but the crowded ballroom kept me from going too far.

  We found our table near the front quite quickly but before we could sit down, a voice called out from behind us.

  “Jonah! There you are!”

  We turned around and I saw an older man with graying hair at the temples smile as he quickly crossed the room towards us.

  “Frank,” Jonah said with a smile as he shook the man’s hand. “I thought you were still in London.”

  Frank shook his head. “Got back two days ago. I was going to fly back out tonight but Marcia insisted I had to be here.” He gave a groan as if he had been put under a heavy burden but it was clear he didn’t mind giving way to this Marcia.

  Jonah grinned. “You did right. Go against your wife and I don’t think there’d be enough of you to send back to London.” Frank laughed. He then turned his attentions to me, eyes curious.

  Jonah made a gesture towards me. “Frank, I’d like to introduce you to Clara Daniels, an incredible furniture designer and also my—”

  “Associate,” I interrupted quickly, afraid he would use a word like ‘date’ or even ‘friend.’

  Jonah’s lips twitched but he made no comment. “Clara, this is Frank Austin from Austin & Wilde.”

  My eyes widened. “It’s such an honor to meet you, Mr. Austin,” I said sincerely. Frank Austin was a legendary designer, creating some of the most iconic homes of Boston and upstate New York.

  Frank shook his head. “Frank. Call me Frank,” he said genially. “So you’re a designer?”

  And before I knew it, I was talking shop with one of my heroes. It was so surreal. But even more surreal was Jonah standing next to me, vouching for every accomplishment I had. Having Jonah’s seal of approval clearly impressed Frank.

  When Frank left to find his Marcia, another man called out and approached Jonah. This time it was a buyer from Singapore who was visiting New York to scout out new talent. Immediately, Jonah introduced us and again went on and on about my skills and talent.