After what feels like an age, we reach the inside of the venue. It’s an old-style theater they are using to screen the finalé a day before it airs on live television. A few select members of the press and influential critics will be allowed to watch, but it’s more about showing off the cast before the screening. The building is old, but classic, with crown molding everywhere, romanesque support pillars, and gold accents giving everything an expensive sheen. I spot most of the cast milling around the lobby, where the number of press allowed in is severely limited. Everyone is more relaxed, and the few press allowed in are tactful enough to be discreet about the pictures they take. I see Jason talking to three beautiful women, narrowing his eyes in the silly way he thinks is seductive.
I want to roll my eyes at the ridiculousness of it until I remember who I’m walking beside. The date I shamefully brought along on the off chance that Jesse would be here to see and get jealous. I don’t know how I let Kennedy talk me into this. Hunter is handsome, but he’s way, way too aware of how handsome he is. He wears a constant, smug little smirk that rubs me the wrong way. I’m glad when we find Kennedy and Patrick, because it gives me a breather while Hunter and Patrick make me nauseous with their overly-macho greeting. Patrick and Hunter slap hands together with a loud pop, pull each other in to bang shoulders, and then pop each other on the back like their performing the heimlich. As if that’s not enough, Patrick punches Hunter on the shoulder after they break up their little greeting ritual. They laugh too loud, smile too wide, and never stop darting their eyes around the room to see who’s noticing them.
I move to Kennedy’s side and we watch together. I lower my voice, leaning toward her ear. She’s wearing something that smells like vanilla and cinnamon that I absolutely love. I make a note to ask her for the name later.
“When do you think they will get out the clubs and start grunting?” I ask Kennedy.
She taps her chin thoughtfully. “I think that comes after the next chest bump.”
I sigh, grinning. “Don’t let me forget how much you owe me for this.”
“Sure. But it looks like it’s working,” she says, moving her eyes past the two men toward the other end of the room.
My heart jumps in my chest. Jesse. He’s standing like a statue in an art museum, so perfectly crafted that I could walk slow circles around him, admiring every detail down to the smallest curve. When I find his eyes though, I feel my admiration melt into fear. He looks like he might actually pull the gun he hides under his suit and kill Patrick and Hunter at any moment.
When I look to Hunter and see the silly way he’s still preening and grinning like a self-impressed idiot, I decide Jesse might be doing the world a favor if he did shoot him. Very well then. Game on.
I slink over to Hunter, putting my hand on his back and letting my fingers splay as I slide it down his spine and move around his hip. I smile up at him like he’s the funniest man in the world. I have about three seconds to wonder what Jesse will do before I feel a presence behind me. We’re facing Patrick, who has been joined by Kennedy, and both their eyes drift over our heads.
I turn to see Jesse, looming over us. His eyes are like hot coals, boring into me, dropping to where my hand touches Hunter’s side. I feel an irresistible urge to pull my hand away, like I’ve been caught misbehaving, but I force myself to keep it there. Jesse doesn’t get to leave twice and still expect me to wait for him.
“You are?” Jesse asks Hunter.
“I don’t have to answer to you, asshole.” He says, smirking and slapping Patrick’s chest with the back of his hand.
“Yeah,” says Patrick. “Our girls aren’t signing autographs, so you can get lost, buddy.”
Jesse ignores them, turning toward me. There’s a question in his eye and I try not to speak to him, to give him the cold shoulder he deserves, but the words tumble out of me. “Why did you leave?”
“Who is this asshole?” asks Hunter. “Is he an ex?”
“No,” I say.
“Yes,” says Jesse at the exact same time.
We glare at each other, paying no attention to Hunter’s baffled expression.
“Where the hell are Edwards and Rosenthal?” asks Jesse.
“I don’t have to answer to you,” I snap. I realize at some point I took my hand off Hunter’s hip to plant both fists on my sides, giving Jesse my full attention. “You left. Again. No call. No letter. Nothing.”
“To keep you safe,” he growls. “Let’s talk somewhere more private.”
Hunter takes a step toward him, reaching to push Jesse’s shoulder. Everything happens so fast it’s over before I realize it began. Jesse’s hands were a blur as he slapped Hunter’s arm aside and gave a single, hard shove that sent Hunter to the ground.
I blink in surprise, looking at Hunter sprawled on the ground and Jesse standing casually, as if nothing just happened. Hunter glares, clutching his shoulder where Jesse pushed him, taking Patrick’s hand and letting himself be pulled back to his feet.
I cover my face in embarrassment, noticing the way several heads have turned towards us and are now watching intently, probably hoping for more drama.
I put my hand on Hunter’s back, glaring at Jesse. “No. I don’t think I want to go anywhere private with you again.”
Hunter’s eyebrows draw down in confusion as he likely follows my implication. “Come on,” I say gesturing to everyone but Jesse to walk with me into the seating area where the pre-showing dinner will be held.
I expect Jesse to protest, but he doesn’t give me the satisfaction. He only watches us calmly as we walk away, and looks sinfully sexy while he does. If there was any justice in the universe, Jesse would be hideous and frail, but that would make this too easy. Instead, he has to be the physical embodiment of every sexual fantasy I’ve ever had. He has to be fucking perfect, and I hate him for it.
I squeeze Hunter’s arm tighter, leading him to one of the many open tables near the edge of the room. People are starting to trickle from the lobby to the dining area, but we’re one of the first to sit down at a table. It’s a white tablecloth arrangement, with wine glasses polished to a glimmering sheen and gold gilded cutlery. There’s already a basket of warm bread in the center of our table, so I reach into the basket and grab two rolls, gnawing off a huge mouthful from one. Kennedy covers an amused smile while Patrick and Hunter openly stare at me.
“What?” I ask angrily through a mouthful of bread. “Here. Take one.” I shove a roll at Hunter, who smiles nervously, taking it and nodding his appreciation.
“I need to use the ladies room,” says Kennedy.
“Go ahead,” I say, still jawing away at the bread.
She clears her throat and bulges her eyes slightly at me. I sigh, setting the bread down on the table and standing. “I’m coming because I have to pee too.”
Hunter gives Patrick a strange look and nods. “We’ll be here,” he says.
I follow Kennedy to the ladies room, which is thankfully empty. We get inside and she turns immediately, putting soft hands on my shoulders. “Hey. What’s going on? Talk to me.”
I can’t meet her eyes, shaking my head. “I’m fine.”
“Can we skip the part where you pretend something’s not going on? I’m your best friend, Makayla. I know when you have to fart before you do.”
I laugh despite the roiling emotions in my chest. “I don’t fart…” I say.
“Yeah, you can tell the world that, but you and I both remember the road trip. Carlos Carnitas was it? Yeah. Enclosed space, poor ventilation--”
I roll my eyes. “I get it. I maybe have had a few indiscretionary moments once or twice in my life. I still don’t see your point.”
“My point is that I know you too well.” She lowers her voice in her best Jack Carpenter impression. “You can’t hide from me, bitch.”
I laugh, sucking in a deep breath. “Okay, I’m not as over Jesse as I claimed to be. Happy?”
“That’s all? I figured as much when you wore th
is,” she says, looking down and prodding some of my scandalously exposed cleavage.
I slap her hand away, grinning. “Hey!” I laugh.
“Good. I knew a fart joke and some light fondling would cheer you up.”
“Yeah,” I say sarcastically. “That’s exactly what I needed.”
“Seriously though. I think maybe you need to just tell Jesse how you feel. Tell him he has had too many chances and it’s over. And then give him my number.”
I glare at her.
“Okay. Too soon. You’re right. Juuust kidding,” she clears her throat. “Mostly.”
“The reason I’m so pissed is that I want to give him another chance. I know I shouldn’t. I’ve let myself fall for him twice now, and both times he has cut me loose without so much as a goodbye. Why should I think the third time would be any different, or even the fifth?”
Kennedy leans back against the sink, chewing her thumbnail and looking down. “Well, what if you’re not seeing the whole picture?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, just think of the way he looks at you. He’s completely obsessed still. I would kill for a guy to look at me like that, like he’d move a fucking mountain just to make me happy. Why would a guy who feels like that break things off with you?”
“Because he thinks he’s protecting me…” The words come out of me slowly and I realize with every syllable how true they are. Of course he is. He has always protected me. Why would now be any different? “I need to talk to him.” I turn to leave without a backward glance.
“Good talk!” yells Kennedy after me.
I’m surprised by how much the dining room has filled since I stepped into the bathroom with Kennedy. I scan the room as I slowly move back to the table where Hunter and Patrick are laughing over something. Hunter notices me and watches me approach hungrily. Seeing his eyes fall down my neckline makes me want to cover up and slap him at the same time.
I’m forced to sit back down in my seat in front of the crumbs left by the poor bread roll I was taking my anger out on. I don’t see Jesse anywhere. I realize Hunter is looking at me expectantly, waiting for a response. Did he say something?
I smile, nodding, hoping he doesn’t realize I have no idea what he said. He’s talking again, but I immediately lose focus when I see who just walked into the dining room.
Becca Fawnette. I’ve never been the fan-girl type, especially since I’ve seen first-hand how obnoxious it can be to be on the receiving end of obsessed fans, but Becca Fawnette? I feel my heart thudding in my chest. Not only is she probably the most beautiful woman alive, she’s also one of the most talented actresses I’ve ever seen. She sashays into the room, hips smoothly rocking with each movement of her long, toned legs. She just looks like a movie star. Her hair is done in classic golden ringlets, bobbing energetically around her heart-shaped face.
And just a few steps behind her is a man who commands just as much attention, though no one has ever seen him on a movie or TV screen. Jesse Slade.
He looms behind her, practically dripping with danger and sexuality as he stalks through the room, intense eyes taking in every last detail and likely committing it to memory. Becca turns to him and places her perfect fingers on his shoulder and leans close to his chest, having to tilt her head up to whisper something to him. I see Jesse’s lips move in response and she throws her head back, laughing and letting her fucking hand slide down his chest like it’s accidental.
I’m not much of a puncher, but I’m suddenly ready to throw down with my childhood idol. I bet that lipstick wouldn’t look so flawless with a fistprint in the middle of it… I take a deep breath and laugh at myself a little, realizing how ridiculous I’m being. Becca is just a toucher. She’s touching everybody she passes, caressing forearms and shoulders, air-kissing cheeks, and flashing those perfectly white teeth to anyone who looks her way.
But Jesse is protecting her now. I convinced myself the only reason he would leave was to protect me, but I somehow forgot the other obvious possibility. He can’t keep his dick in his pants and he left because he got bored. He still looks at me like he wants me because he’s a player, not because he wants to keep me safe. I’m an idiot for not seeing it sooner.
With difficulty, I tear my gaze away from the two of them and look to Hunter, who I realize has been watching Becca and still watches her even when I clear my throat. He finally realizes I’m looking at him, jumping a little and smiling.
“So,” he says quickly. “Do we order or is this one of those things where they just bring something out?”
Kennedy returns to the table, giving me a curious look. “You take what they give you,” she says distractedly.
She and I have a silent exchange via eye contact. Judging by her bulged eyes and twitchy head movements, she wants me to go talk to him, and I try my best to signal back with pursed lips and lowered eyebrows that it’s not happening. Patrick and Hunter watch both of us, probably just beginning to regret their chosen dates when I finally stand, unable to take Kennedy’s prodding anymore.
Fine. I’ll go talk to the big idiot.
39
Jesse
I watch the waiters and waitresses circulate the room with bottles of wine, filling everyone’s cups. A waiter arrives at my table, blocking my view of Makayla’s table as he mumbles something about the wine and takes our glasses. I notice the knuckles on his right hand are scabbed over and calloused. I look up at him with narrowed eyes. He’s a hell of a lot rougher around the edges than the average server, and he fills our glasses way too high.
My attention is quickly drawn away when he steps to the side and I see Makayla storming toward my table. Fuck, I can’t keep my eyes on her face because that dress is doing some wonderful things for her body. I’m practically mesmerized by the way her full tits are bouncing with every swaying step until she’s right in my face. Becca sits beside me, laughing and talking with the people at our table. She doesn’t seem to notice Makayla, which is probably for the best. She has been trying to flirt with me since I took the job protecting her and I think she might bring her claws out if she sensed my interest in Makayla.
“So this is why you quit?” asks Makayla.
I tear my gaze from her tits and look into her eyes. I see the hurt and pain there, hating myself for being the one who caused it. “This isn’t the place to talk,” I mutter.
“Oh yes it is,” she says dangerously.
I clear my throat, painfully aware that it’s only a matter of time until Becca notices her and makes this worse. “Why don’t we talk somewhere--”
“We’re talking here,” she says, folding her arms under her breasts.
God. The way her tits balloon upward gives me a sinfully good look at her perfectly milky skin. My cock is rock hard and I discreetly rest my forearm on it, trying to ease the pressure of it trying to burst through my slacks.
I know what she wants to talk about, and I realize I may have done more damage by keeping the truth from her. If she forgives me, I might not be able to stop myself from letting her get close again, and if she gets close, she’s in danger. At least until I can figure out how to get to Liam and stop his plans for revenge.
I hate myself for doing it, but I know I can’t stand her thinking I’ve betrayed her again. I thought I could do it, but every moment since I left her again has been like torture. I’ll just have to find a way to make sure Liam can’t get to her. I’m about to tell her the truth when I hear a soft hmmmm from behind me.
I don’t need to look back to know Becca just set her sights on Makayla.
“Is this an ex of yours, Jesse?” Becca purrs. She talks in slow, sultry tones, as if every word out of her mouth is muttered across the pillows of a luxurious bed.
I don’t quite know how to answer her, but Makayla saves me the trouble.
“I’m nobody to him,” she says sweetly, reaching to shake Becca’s hand.
Becca waits just a heartbeat too long to take Makayla’s hand, delicately shak
ing it. “Do I recognize you from somewhere, sweetie? Weren’t you in one of those made-for-television movies?”
Makayla smiles tightly. “I play the lead in Stalked. You know, the show this event is celebrating.”
Becca laughs unconvincingly. “Of course. It’s just so hard to keep track of all the shows lately. It seems like they are popping up everywhere. It’s good though. It gives people a chance to try their hand at acting even if they can’t make it to the big screen.”
I clear my throat. “Makayla’s not an ex, actually,” I say, standing and sliding my arm around her waist. I feel her shudder at my touch. “We’re currently dating,” I say, gently pulling her chin toward me with two fingers and kissing her softly on the lips. I can practically feel an electric jolt of energy pass between us, making my already hard cock throb painfully. Her lips are soft, warm, and it’s hard to pull away. She looks back at me, face momentarily frozen in pleasant shock. I see a flash of anger in her eyes and her hand comes toward me. I catch what she intends as a slap and slow her arm down, placing it on my cheek and winking at her as I force her to caress my face.
She bites her lip.
Becca’s lip curls in distaste.”Well stop slobbering over her and get back to work. For how much I’m paying you--”
“I was just leaving,” says Makayla, but that idiot she’s with shows up at her shoulder. He’s clearly pissed, in the way privileged rich kids who are used to getting their way get pissed. I touched something that was his and he’s here to remind me that he doesn’t like to share.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asks me.
“Who’s this?” asks Becca, the corner of her lip pulling up in a smirk as she starts to puzzle together the situation.
“Her fucking date,” snaps Hunter. “At least I was until she started kissing this asshole.”
“So you two are together, but she’s also dating this one?” asks Becca. She gives Makayla a predatory look. “Since you’re okay with being shared, you won’t mind if I take a little bite of this man of yours later tonight, will you? I just have to have him.”
Single Dad Next Door: A Fake Marriage Romance Page 28