Xan finally forced his eyes to drop and look at the reason why they were here in the first place.
She was right, he thought. Not that he was going to tell her that.
He knew shit about nuances and specifics of photography and couldn’t care less about any of it. But he knew what he liked and begrudgingly he had to admit he was digging what she showed him.
She applied some kind of a trick which made him and the club look mysterious and wicked at once, instead of portraying them as sinister and sordid. It was all about the play between spotlights and silhouettes and he understood what she was trying to tell him all along.
It didn’t change the facts though, he decided.
While taking those shots was bold in ways his wild nature approved, it was also risky, not to say dangerous, and no matter how spiffy and spruced up they were, they still should have never been taken in the first place.
He glanced back at her and saw she was clearly expecting something of him. Whether it was praise, apology or her camera, she was not going to get it, he smirked inwardly.
“I stand corrected. They are nothing but trouble and you would do well to reconsider making them public.”
Cat met his gaze steadying herself in the face of impassivity of his expression. She didn’t delude herself in believing he would appreciate the pictures, but she expected the end result would placate him a tad. And even if he was not going to apologize for his rude behavior he should at least agree with her there was nothing wrong in taking them.
Yet all her presumptions came to a screeching halt and for a moment she nearly let her mask slip away and show her disappointment.
While his head was bent and he was busy studying the photographs rather than her, she used the opportunity to take a closer look at this fighter.
The photographer in her was itching to grab a camera–any really would do–and capture his implacability. In her mind’s eye she placed him somewhere in the wild where the simplicity and rawness of the nature could magnify his roughness.
But then a ray of the sun glided over his features, softening them and confusing her, causing her thoughts to scamper off for a moment.
The woman in her took her turn feeling disturbed by his harsh masculinity, not to mention his presence alone so she pushed it all aside. When he stubbornly kept to his original assessment, she wondered how she could believe even if for a second there could be anything soft about him while he was all rough edges.
“It’s not your call, Xan. I had made the decision to accept the job with all consequences. Putting it simply and to the point; it is not your business but mine.” She smiled, oh-so-sweetly, at him refusing to back down under the weight of his piercing gaze and unrefined judgment.
A smirk was his only answer and she felt tempted to ask him what it meant but he reached under the table and she instantly changed her mind, convinced he was finally going to act rationally and give back the camera he had taken from her.
And it was her device he put on the table between them but its condition stilled the air in her lungs. She blinked helplessly hoping for the sight to change.
Sadly it didn’t.
Something tightened painfully in her chest when she drew her head back as if he slapped her.
“Why?” Her voice hitched and then broke forcing Cat to clear her throat in order to speak again. “Why did you do it?” She looked into his eyes and the coldness and indifference in his gaze were making him look as closed off as ever.
But no matter how uninviting he seemed, she still preferred to examine him than the broken camera he was offering her back. It wasn’t about its financial worth; for Cat her Canon was far more than that: it held a sentimental value because it was a gift from her father.
He had showed her that a camera could be a tool of communication between her and the world as she saw it. Photography was his passion, the hobby he had never been allowed to turn into a profession, but he told his daughter she should always ever listen only to herself and be whom she wanted to be, because only she could decide how to use opportunities and what to make out of endless possibilities.
It not only represented her freedom of choice but was also the very last gift from her father before he was murdered.
“Why? Because I could.” Xan looked her straight in the eye but his flippant answer threatened to burn his tongue when he saw the expression transforming her face.
She seemed so smug when she basically told him she would do with pictures as she pleased and he could do nothing about it, that he wanted to pay her in kind.
In Xan’s world, there was only one rule: eye for an eye, and he learned to be pretty fond of it after too much time wasted tilting at windmills.
And now Catalina’s apparent distress was making him regret who and how he was which didn’t make sense.
She could easily replace the damn thing, he thought angrily, but something told him that if that were the case she wouldn’t react the way she had.
She shot to her feet without a warning and for a second he thought she was going to grab his glass and throw its content into his face or slap him instead. He was prepared for either, but of course she did no such thing, reaching for the broken device instead, no matter its pitiful condition.
He gripped her wrist before he could think better of it. He had no intentions of stopping her, yet he was stalling for some reason.
“You are hurting me.” She informed him and he knew it cost her to say it calmly while she was struggling with her anguish.
“You hurt yourself by thinking I am something I’m not.” He told her instead of trying to fix the situation as his gut was pushing him to do.
But Xan was not known for apologizing or for his forgiving nature.
“Could I please get my camera back now?” Cat forced herself to look at him searching his green eyes for something she couldn’t even name.
She tried to breathe in and out but the roar in her head was intensifying along with a widening of a crack in her heart until she started to feel dizzy.
Paradoxically the thought about losing it in the middle of the café, not to mention the pitiless man sitting in front of her, helped her to get a firmer grip on her emotions no matter how shaky her wavering control was.
She deeply regretted coming here today.
More, she regretted ever taking on the offer and meeting him in the first place. Neither the chill of excitement nor the fat check was worth the loss of the only memento she had left of her father.
How stupid she was for wanting to come in here today, to reassure him about the pictures while he was planning all along to… what exactly? She asked herself swallowing the bile rising in her throat.
Prove to her he had no respect for other people’s belongings?
Humiliate her?
She shook her head slightly because in the end it didn’t matter one way or another.
She wondered when she was going to learn that fair meant nothing in today’s world because everything always came to money and power. Strength was power, quite literally in this case, she thought.
He held her gaze for a moment and she thought she saw a glint of remorse in his eyes. Even if he regretted it now he surely didn’t before, she decided. Her bottom lip desperately wanted to tremble but she bit down hard on it and the instant pain that answered was sobering.
She schooled her expression, determined not to show any more weakness in front of the man who apparently had none. She managed to curve her lips into an indistinct smile when he finally let go of her hand.
“Have a nice life.” She told him while cradling the camera protectively in her hands even though it was too late for that.
She turned away leaving him there with the damn pictures splayed all over the table hoping she would never see him again.
Xan gazed at the exit even long after she was gone. He avoided dealing with other people’s emotions since he was not adept at handling his own. Now he was bombarded by them and one was more disturbing than another.
Catalina was seemingly cool and undisturbed like an ice sculpture and she was pretty good at keeping the pretenses, he would give her that. But his entire life depended on reading others and he usually saw more than he let on.
He was still unsure what her motive was for showing up today and facing him the way she did, because he didn’t buy the whole wanting to reassure him thing.
Nobody could be as selfless and good-natured as that. Even though it was perfectly obvious they were nothing alike and as different as two people could get, they were still living in the same world and its rules were brutal.
If she truly were that naive, she shouldn’t be allowed to cross streets on her own, he thought trying to cover up the uncomfortable pang of guilt with irreverence but it didn’t do the work. Not fully anyway, and he hesitated for a moment catching himself on the verge of running out after her.
Now that would be truly idiotic, he decided and topped off his glass of water instead.
What could he tell her at this point, that he was sorry?
It was too late for that anyway and wouldn’t change the outcome. He knew firsthand how useless words were, how powerless when put together with blame. How inadequate, just like he wasn’t adequate to fix it.
He should have been satisfied, Xan considered, since he achieved his plan and sent the woman home crying.
But instead of boasting his win, he felt like he had been the one knocked-out flat on his ass.
CHAPTER 7
Catalina needed a friend, someone who could understand her loss and would be there to listen to her unbidden words because she didn’t think she could patiently describe the whole situation. Even though she knew that it was unlikely for her internal turmoil to show on the surface, she was a mess of emotions within.
She felt unhinged and needed mooring.
Nobody was better at it than Chloé Logan, she thought.
They had been friends since they met at Yale University where they were both studying Art. Moving to Santa Monica was Cat’s idea but she believed she wouldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been for her friend’s support.
Defying Florence Bennett wasn’t an easy feat, or everyday occurrence for that matter, and having someone in her corner helped Catalina immensely.
Life in L.A. was a challenge and a breath of fresh air Cat desperately needed after the stuffy atmosphere of sophisticated Connecticut and high-end elite’s life she grew up in.
Yale was an obvious choice, a continuation of the Bennett family generations’ long tradition and only a step from the Choate Rosemary Hall which was a highly selective, private college–preparatory boarding school located in Wallingford where Catalina was from.
In Santa Monica, she was a novice just starting to pave her way to the hermetic world of photography and Chloé was a budding model.
Her friend’s name was less refined back then, as Cat liked to tease her about. She was simply Chloe then.
Only when she started to get more lucrative job offers did she decide to change it into Chloé as her private tribute toward the French fashion house founded in 1952 by Gaby Aghion. It offered luxury prêt-à-porter, rejecting the stiff formality of 1950s fashion houses that had only ever produced Haute Couture for those rich enough who could afford it.
Chloé decided she was going to be the next IT girl and the name change, slight as it was, was supposed to help her to achieve it.
Catalina wasn’t sure how big a part it really played in the bigger scheme of things but surely it didn’t jinx it, boosting her friend’s confidence in the very least.
However, it was a portrait of Chloé made by Cat that was a breakthrough in her career. Chloé often said that Cat was the one who helped her climb up the career ladder and she would be forever grateful to her lucky star for meeting her in the right time of her life.
Cat was equally thankful for that, since before the other woman stormed into her life she had never had a friend.
Oh, she had plenty of acquaintances, but not a real friend. Especially one who was as bold as Chloé and believed that life was her oyster.
Now Catalina was looking at the other woman, waiting for her Zumba lesson to end, wondering why people would voluntarily undergo twenty-five minutes of this torture and pay for it on top of it. She much preferred her Pilates routine in the privacy of her own house.
Even sweaty and out of breath, Chloé was simply beautiful. Her long gypsy black hair was bundled up, exposing the long and slim column of her neck. Her face bore no signs of make-up, her body was not adorned by any jewel for obvious reasons.
Cat smiled, knowing that even her state of dishevelment was nothing casual but an effect of careful planning. Chloé wasn’t big on believing in coincidence, not leaving anything to a chance if she could help it.
Usually she could, Catalina thought.
Chloé waved to her as soon as the lesson was over and walked out of the class with a towel wrapped around her neck. Her purple sport bra and black leggings emphasized a body rigorously kept in shape.
It made perfect sense since it was her trademark and working tool. She was around four inches taller than Cat’s five-feet-six, but the self-confidence that was so much a part of her was doubling that as Cat often joked.
“I would hug you but I don’t think it would go well with your foppish dress.” Chloé noticed and Cat laughed despite her mirthless mood.
“I guess everyone would look dapper compared to you.” She noticed and Chloé snickered.
“Don’t make me change my mind.” She warned. “Give me twenty minutes and we can go grab a bite. I will order something yummy because God knows I deserve it and you will tell me what put this look in your eyes.”
It took half an hour for Chloé to be ready and another fifteen until they were seated in a cozy coffee shop. ‘Something yummy’ turned out to be a non-fat Frappuccino and a Mango Smoothie for Catalina.
“He did a number on you. I’m sorry sweetie, I know what this camera meant to you.” Chloé squeezed her hand in sympathy after Catalina shared events of the last few days with her best friend.
“But…?” Cat looked at her expectantly knowing better than to believe it was all she had to say.
“But… I warned you more than once about risks you are taking. I am not saying I don’t understand why you do; growing under Florence’s gimlet eye would make anyone rebel at least once in a while. And as much as the guy proved himself to be an ass, this adventure of yours could have been avoided altogether.”
“I don’t see it that way.” Cat protested.
“Of course you don’t, that’s why you keep doing it obviously. But really, in the very least you should have taken me with you.” Chloé pouted and Catalina laughed faintly.
“Now that sounds more like you.” She agreed.
“How is the exhibition coming together?” Chloé wanted to know.
“I am very excited to be a part of it. I think the choice of topic is going to be a hit, mostly because it should display the side of city most are unaware of.”
“Hate to burst your bubble, but most simply don’t care.” Chloé noticed.
“I hope it will change their views then.”
“You know how proud of you I am? I keep telling people I know The C. Bennett and a few people told me they are going to be there.”
“Well, when I brag about being friends with The Chloé, they just want your phone number.” Cat muttered and they both laughed. “I appreciate your support, especially since…”
“Don’t do this to yourself, sweetie,” Chloé cut her off. “A day will come when your grandmother understands there is so much more to you than the social butterfly she tried to mold you into and that there are other worlds out there beyond the Upper Crust one.”
“Great speech, wish I had something more to toast it with than a smoothie.” Cat commented.
“You are getting mean, which means it’s time for a date. Did I tell you I know this guy who…”
“Save your breath. I
am too busy and uninterested.” Catalina’s reaction was instantaneous.
“And how can you know that if you don’t even give him a chance?” Chloé demanded.
“Fine, maybe after the exhibition then.”
“I see through you, Miss Bennett. But I will have you know my memory works perfectly and we will get back to this subject right after it and not a minute later.”
“As much as I believe in persistence, I don’t think it holds quite the same appeal when work is taken out of the equation.” Catalina said.
“Work this, work that! There is so much more to life than work alone!” Chloé threw her hands in the air in exasperation.
“Speaking of which… what happened to Todd?”
“Todd!” Chloé pursed her lips. “Even his name was boring.”
“That answers that.” Catalina nodded not surprised in the least.
Todd, Tom, Timothy… the names didn’t matter at all, because as much as men were flocking to Chloé for the obvious reasons none wanted to get to know the woman behind the model persona, Cat thought. Most were superficial and who knew that better than herself?
In her world, or rather in Florence Bennett’s world, the front veneer was all that mattered. People didn’t care about what lay beneath and it was a shame really, because in Catalina’s opinion that was where the crux of every matter was hidden.
“And you ask why I’m not interested in dating?” She taunted her.
“Ah, but it is not about the end result. Sooner or later it’s unavoidable to be disappointed. To me it is all about the chase and games at the beginning.” She winked at Cat who only shook her head.
“That’s very cynical.”
“Try modeling and we will see if it won’t turn you cynical. Not all of us believe in happily ever after. More to the point… it is not meant for everyone.” Chloé told her and Catalina said nothing because she found no argument that could refute her friend’s theory.
CUL-DE-SAC (On The Edge Book 1) Page 6