Prove Me Wrong

by Gemma Hart

  “Press comes with the territory of the Lowell name, I’m afraid,” he said, flicking a dismissive glance at some of the photographers. “So I try to use it to the best of my advantages. Whether it’s photographing me entering one of my work sites in promotion or…”

  He turned slightly so he could give the cameras the full benefit of his electric smile.

  “To make sure one designer outshines the rest, thanks to a certain business mogul’s infatuation,” he finished, looking down at me heatedly.

  My cheeks warmed.

  “Infatuation?” I echoed.

  “Trust me,” he said. “It doesn’t require much acting at all.” He turned me around, guiding us back towards the crowd. “Or any.”

  Following Jonah’s lead, I was able to chat with more of the room. He made sure that I introduced myself to the leading members of the press, ensuring good coverage of my name and work. I chatted with some of the other buyers and designers. I spoke haltingly (while mentally squealing with excitement) with a top fashion designer who said she loved some of my chairs and was waiting to put in an order for some more.

  We were just leaving another buyer when a journalist walked straight into me without looking, spilling his red wine across my peach satin dress.

  Immediately, Jonah pulled the journalist away from me while pulling me simultaneously closer to him.

  “Oh my god,” the journalist said in horror as he looked at the blossoming stain that crossed the entire front of my dress. “I am so sorry, Miss Daniels! I wasn’t watching where I was going—”

  “Clearly,” Jonah growled coldly.

  The journalist shrank back a little. “I’m really sorry,” he said. But as he spoke, I could see him reach around for a camera that was slung behind him. He had made a genuine mistake but no use in wasting a good shot of a designer in a ruined dress. I was horrified and disgusted.

  Jonah was neither. He was angry.

  He stepped towards the man. “Take one more photo the rest of the day and I promise you I will buy out whatever piece of shit rag you work for and destroy you,” he said in a low lethal voice that left the journalist frozen in fear, the camera hanging uselessly in his hands.

  Before I could figure out what to do, Jonah quickly led me to a side room that was normally used for storage. But at the moment it was empty save for a few scattered chairs and an empty crate or two.

  Once the door was shut behind us, Jonah turned around and assessed the damage.

  “That dress is ruined,” he said simply, looking at the severity of the wine stain. The journalist had spilled what looked like an entire glass of the stuff down the front of my dress.

  I plucked at it wetly. “You’re telling me,” I said. As much as I hated being out in front of press, I would’ve been frozen in fear if I had been left alone when that accident had happened. And god knows how many ridiculous photos would’ve been taken of me in a dripping dress, looking stunned and stupid.

  Thank god Jonah had been there with enough presence of mind to quickly shield me under his arm and take me away into a secluded room.

  Jonah shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around me. “I can get you out the side exit,” he said, holding the jacket tightly around me, pulling me in towards him. “There shouldn’t be any photographers in that direction.

  The jacket smelled of him. That spicy, manly scent. I inhaled deeply. God, I had missed him so much. I had denied it and denied for a year but smelling this familiar and warm scent, it brought back just how much I had missed him.

  I looked up at him, my heart pounding. I wasn’t sure what had changed in him but something definitely had and I could feel my heart opening towards him.

  With him holding his jacket around me, pulling me close, we were just breaths away from each other.

  “Jonah, I—”

  Before I could finish whatever it was I had wanted to say, his mouth descended on mine, his lips crushing fiercely against mine. Immediately I yielded to him, aware just how much I had been longing for this exact kind of touch.

  His tongue plunged deeply into my mouth, taking my breath away quite literally. He tightened his hold on his jacket, keeping me imprisoned within its silky bounds. He yanked me closer and I could do nothing but follow his lead.

  His mouth explored mine with a newness and a familiarity. The dichotomy was dizzying. His lips, his taste, were all so achingly familiar and yet the passion and ferocity with which he kissed me felt brand new and exhilarating.

  Finally, we broke away, both a little breathless. My heart was pounding a mile a minute. Taking my courage in my two hands I looked up and said, “Jonah, I want to talk.” I took in a deep breath. “I want to talk with you.”

  His eyes warmed as if he had been waiting for me to say those very words for weeks. He wrapped an arm securely around me. “Alright,” he said, his voice deep and gentle.

  And I knew I was risking my heart again with a dangerous man but I couldn’t help it. I was already hooked.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jonah

  “He’s back in town, sir, but there’s definitely something happening,” Gavin reported.

  I pressed the speaker button and placed the phone on the kitchen counter as I continued making preparations for dinner. Yesterday, after whisking Clara out of the building, Brenda had soon followed. We couldn’t talk that day since Clara was still under obligation for multiple press functions. And I had actually skipped an appointment or two to make time to visit. We both had matters to attend to.

  So Brenda had taken Clara back to her place so she could change but not before I told her to come to my place by seven the next night. I promised we could talk then.

  And knowing she would be here soon, I nearly hummed as I prepared. Being with her felt too good. She was an incredible woman—brave, charismatic, and yet still delicate and vulnerable. I had faults and I had damages but I was ready to lay them bare at her feet. I would explain to her everything, including what happened a year ago. And hopefully, she would understand.

  Because if she did….

  My heart beat loudly against my ears. Because if she did, that meant we had the possibility of a lifetime of happiness in front of us. A dream I never dared to let myself have.

  “Sir?” Gavin said hesitantly.

  I snapped back to attention. “Right,” I said. Gavin had been keeping an eye on Martin for me and true enough, the man was definitely up to something. He was now back in town but apparently was quite busy meeting with customs agents for the new ships he had purchased.

  “Do you know if the ships are docking at the ports?” I asked.

  “No,” Gavin replied. “All I know is that Mr. Lowell is fighting for approval to get the ships docked soon. But there seems to be some difficulty because of the paperwork he’s presenting. Apparently, he’s in line with a company in the Middle East but agents can’t seem to verify that company’s name.”

  Huh. That’s a definite red flag. A huge corporation like Lowell Enterprises would never align itself with some no-name disreputable company that couldn’t even be verified. What the hell was Martin doing?

  “Has he tried to push through any new merger deals with us?” I asked.

  “No, sir,” Gavin replied. “So far, it looks like this is solely a Lowell Enterprises venture.”

  I pressed my lips, thinking. “Well, keep an eye out. We’re now tied to Lowell so if anything goes belly up for them, we’d be on the hook as well.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I hung up.

  I needed to remember to drop by Martin’s office some time soon. This man was making some erratic moves lately and I refused to have my ship sunk because of his foolishness.

  I was pouring myself a drink when the doorbell rang. I looked up. It was only 6:30. I grinned. Clara must be feeling more comfortable with me to be dropping by earlier than expected.

  Crossing to the front door, I opened it, ready to tease her about nearly catching me coming out of the shower when t
he smile and laughter immediately vanished from my face.

  “Darling,” Vanessa said, her full red lips turning into a pout, “you don’t look too pleased to see me.”

  “Leave,” I said flatly, my gaze turning icy.

  Without regards to my words, she stepped past me into the apartment. She looked around, walking with a slow saunter that I knew was meant to draw my gaze towards her slender but full hips. She wore a tight red dress that hugged every curve.

  “You redecorated a little,” she commented. She made a gesture to the far wall. “Where did those Ecclestone paintings that I bought you go?”

  “I threw them away,” I said shortly.

  Vanessa was unfazed. She merely shrugged. “They were worth several thousand. You could’ve at least sold them.”

  “Vanessa, what the fuck are you doing here?” I demanded.

  She turned around, giving me the full benefit of her body. The dress had a slit in the front that allowed one long leg to peek through.

  “Sweetheart, I came here to see you,” she said in a throaty voice that made most men putty in her hands.

  I snorted. “Oh really?” I asked, sarcasm dripping with every word. “See me because of my ‘maniacal obsession with money’ or my ‘kinky fetish with stilettos’ or because of my ‘micropenis’?”

  The smear campaign she had run had been a thorough and creative one.

  Vanessa shrugged off those accusations like water off Teflon. She slowly walked towards me, her lips pursed and her dark eyes glinting seductively.

  “If there’s anything you don’t have,” she said huskily as she ran a hand down my chest, “is anything micro. If I remember correctly, you were huge. Almost too big.”

  She was practically leaning against me, her breasts pressed against my chest. But I was completely unmoved. The woman was an ambulance chaser. She wanted whoever was the It man of the day and all the trappings that came with it.

  Either she was short on millionaires or she was trying her hand at round two with me, but regardless, I wasn’t interested.

  “Sweetheart,” I said, leaning forward and pressing my hand on top of hers to prevent it from further exploration, “get the fuck out of here.”

  Her dark eyes suddenly flashed cold. “Why?” she nearly hissed at me. “Are you now only interested in backwoods girls who have a knack for hammers and overalls?”

  Suddenly, I understood exactly why she was here.

  She was jealous.

  Clara had been in quite a few papers lately. First with the scandal with me. And then with the explosive news of her lucrative contracts. Add to that that the girl was both beautiful and engaging, and the press were having a field day touting her about.

  Vanessa must’ve seen her photos and the photos of the two of us together. It must’ve hurt her pride to know that while I had tossed her over without emotion, I had been carefully protecting and courting Clara for weeks now.

  I didn’t answer her but gave her a stony glare, my jaw tightening in exasperation and anger. Honestly, how petty was this woman? I wondered how I had even let myself be tangled with such a person when I remembered that long ago, these were the only kinds of women I met. New York City socialites were a totally different breed and class.

  That was why when I met Clara, I had felt like for the first time, I could breathe.

  Vanessa forcibly softened her gaze, swallowing her anger. She wrapped her fingers around my hand that was holding hers imprisoned. “I think it’s just that you’ve forgotten what a real woman, a woman of value, could give you,” she said huskily.

  “Vanessa,” I said evenly, “either you can march out that door on your own two feet or I can pick you up and throw your ass out. Either way, it ends with you on the other side of that door.”

  Undeterred by my tone, she leaned in further, brushing her lips against mine. “Come on, sweetheart,” she whispered. “Let me show you what you really want.”

  And with the quickness of a cat, she pressed her lips against mine, trying to force her tongue into my mouth. I gripped her by her shoulders but she clawed into my chest, gripping me with ridiculous strength.

  Finally I pulled her away, yanking her back with such force her head nearly snapped back.

  Vanessa looked up at me, her lips a little swollen from the kiss. She gave a kittenish grin. “Missed that, didn’t you?” she said.

  Suddenly, I heard a short tapping march. The sound of heels against stone flooring.

  I turned around just in time to catch Clara’s honey blonde hair as the front door slammed behind her.

  ***

  “I don’t need to hear anything!” Clara cried out as she tried to move past my body but I kept her blocked in against my sofa.

  It had been like wrestling an octopus but I had managed to throw Vanessa out. And as soon as I had gotten her out of the apartment, I had run down the building to catch Clara in the lobby.

  I had immediately pulled her back towards the elevators, telling her that this really was all a mistake.

  I could see her disbelief and she pulled against my hold but she was no match.

  But in the end, it was the staring eyes of the lobby that made her give in and follow me. She had experienced bad press and didn’t want to encourage it again.

  “I’ll come up,” she said through gritted teeth in the elevator. “But I’m coming back down again in ten minutes.” She figured that would be enough time to cause less drama when she returned downstairs.

  “Ten minutes is all I need,” I said.

  As we left the elevator, I kept a hold on her arm and guided her back into the apartment. I knew she said she would come in but I couldn’t let go of her anyway. I could already feel her leaving me mentally and I wanted to hold her in place.

  But now that we were in the apartment, the whole explanation sounded like something straight out of a ridiculous rom-com movie.

  “I had thought Vanessa was you when I opened the door,” I said slowly, trying to keep hold of my frustration and anger at the events that had just unfolded. “I was trying to throw her out when you came in.”

  Clara had her arms crossed. She was wearing a loose gray sweater and light colored denim jeans. Her long honey colored hair was flowing freely down her back. She looked soft and casual and so goddamn good I wanted to squeeze her to me.

  But at the moment, she had one brow raised cynically at me.

  “Oh?” she said. “Is that what you call kissing?”

  My jaw tightened. “She kissed me,” I said. “The only reason why she was even up here was because of how jealous she is of you.”

  That caught her short. Clara looked up at me in genuine confusion. “Jealous?” she said incredulously. “Of me? Why?”

  “Because you’re a talented woman of substance who is being lauded and praised now for your skill while she is a socialite who has spent her entire life living off of Daddy’s money and will spend the rest of her life living off her husband’s money,” I said simply. Whoever that unlucky fucker might be.

  Clara seemed to be thinking my words over but finally she just shook her head.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said hollowly. “Whatever she is and whatever you are, clearly you two are a better fit.” She straightened up. “I’m leaving.”

  My body tensed. “Listen, Clara—”

  Clara shook her head and stamped her foot. “No, dammit!” she exploded at me suddenly. “I’ve done enough listening! Stop trying to play with me, Jonah! I’m not some kind of toy for you billionaires to have fun with!”

  I moved towards her, gripping her by her biceps. She struggled against me but I refused to let go. I refused to have her not understand what I felt for her.

  “You’re not a toy,” I said. But Clara thrashed against me. I gave her a short shake. “Do you hear me? You’re not a toy!”

  Clara stopped struggling but wouldn’t meet my gaze. She stared forward, straight at my chest.

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you abou
t tonight,” I said, my own voice growing ragged with pent up emotion and frustration. “I wanted to explain how I feel about you, about what happened a year ago—”

  Clara jerked her head up at those words and I saw the tears dancing on her lashes, tearing at my heart.

  “A year ago?” she said, nearly hissing at me. “A year ago when you came into my life and played me like some kind of naïve fool? When you embarrassed me and br-broke my heart?”

  I could see the emotion cracking through her angry façade. I wanted to throttle Vanessa, hold Clara, and punch a wall. But at the moment, I couldn’t do any of it.

  I tightened my hold on Clara.

  “When I met you a year ago, I didn’t know what I would feel,” I said, my voice rough. “I didn’t know how much I would feel. I’ve never been good at loving someone. But you were so good at it. You were so good. And I didn’t trust myself to not hurt you.” I swallowed. “I always hurt people. That’s what I’m good at.”

  “So what?” Clara said, her bottom lip quivering for just an instant. “The whole thing with you and Vanessa at Mackleson’s was just some act? Some act to ward me off? To protect me from you?”

  I lowered my head, feeling as though everything I had wanted was slipping out of my grasp like sand through a sieve.

  “As fucking stupid as it sounds, yes it was,” I said. “And part of it was because I was a coward. Goddammn it, I was being a coward and I thought I’d rather break your heart now instead of breaking it later when you realized I wasn't good enough!”

  Clara’s lips tightened as she looked at me. “And so what was tonight?” she whispered. “Some kind of encore? Some kind of follow up act?”

  My throat tightened. The pain in her eyes was so clear that it made it feel as if my heart would shatter under the weight of it.

  “How many times do you think you can hurt me?” Clara whispered tightly. “How many times do you think I can bear it?”

  A tear fell down her cheek and I felt as if I wanted to scream and cry as well in pain.

  “Clara, that wasn’t it,” I said clumsily. “That wasn’t what I was trying to do. Especially tonight. I wanted to talk to you, to explain—”