Worthy

by Lacey Carter Andersen

  My thoughts begin to turn. When we get to the event, there will be a room full of women who look like robots. Jade will stand out from the sea of fake boobs and fake smiles. Every man will want her. I can picture it so clearly that my hands curl into fists.

  The idea bugs me more than I like. My blood heats, and my gaze narrows. Can’t I just take her home, strip off that dress, and make her moan for me?

  “We could turn around,” I say, my voice low enough that our driver can’t hear me.

  Her gaze jerks to me. “What are you talking about? You’re the one saying this would all be perfect.”

  What do I say to that?

  When she talked about her crush on Blake, it bugged me a little, but I knew a guy like him could never appreciate Jade for who she is. But dressed like this? What if he wants her and she wants him? We could be fucking ourselves by helping Jade.

  I can’t exactly tell her that. Or let her know just how jealous I am right now at just the thought of her with another man.

  “I just want to go home and take that dress off,” I say, my tone flirtatious.

  Her cheeks heat. “Emmett!”

  “What?” I say, plastering on a smile. “This is our first official date. Shouldn’t I be able to compliment you?”

  “That is not a compliment!”

  I shift closer to her and put an arm along the back of her seat. “It’s not flattering to tell a woman she looks good enough to eat? That you want to strip her down and taste her like the finest dessert?”

  She smacks my chest lightly, glancing at our driver as if mortified. “No, it’s not!”

  I sweep her hair off her neck, before drawing close enough so that my mouth is inches from her skin. Moving slowly, I don’t touch her, but stop near her ear. “You and I have different definitions of a compliment.”

  I’m satisfied when she shivers. “And, I think you’re a pervert.”

  “You keep calling me that, but we both know you like it.” And this time, unable to help myself, I let my lips touch her ear, then slide them down her neck.

  Her breathing is rapid, and my gaze is glued to the rise and fall of her chest. “Emmett…”

  Our car turns into a driveway, then moves toward the mansion ahead of us.

  Jade tenses again.

  I put my hand on her knee.

  Her gaze jerks to me.

  I slide my hand up her inner thigh.

  She grabs my hand. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying not to lose my mind,” I say. I’d meant to sound smooth, but instead there’s a desperate, aroused note to my voice that I didn’t expect.

  She’s back to glaring at me. Which means she’s not falling apart inside about where we’re going and what we’re about to do. Exactly what I wanted.

  I just didn’t expect that touching her thigh was going to get me hard.

  Damn this sexy woman.

  When our car pulls up to the front of the house, I get out before my driver can, go to her door, and open it, offering her my hand.

  She looks hesitant, but takes it.

  I pull her a little too close. “I got you, babe. Don’t worry about a thing.”

  “Somehow that’s not comforting,” she says, her breath against my neck sending blood straight to my dick.

  I wrap her hand around my arm and lead her inside even though the urge to leave with her is almost a physical need inside of me. Without this little task of hers, she wouldn’t have gone out with me in the first place. So if I have to play this game to be with her, I will.

  Inside, the mansion is bright, crowded with people, and swarmed with waiters carrying trays of the same old hors d'oeuvre. But Jade points out nearly everything, her excitement palpable. She tries nearly every hors d'oeuvre, wincing at some, and eating several of others. Before we’ve made it to the main room, I’m already having a better time than I’ve had at one of these events…well, ever.

  Her excitement is contagious.

  And everything makes her think of another story. A few are tales about the people she cleans for, which have me laughing in no time. Others are a peek into a rough life I never imagined, but that somehow she finds the humor in.

  Where has this woman been all my life?

  But then she glances behind me, and her smile melts away. I turn to look at what she sees, even though I’m pretty sure I already know. It’s Blake alright, with a blonde on his arm. Blake looks like the same asshole as always, and the blonde, in her obnoxious red dress, could be any other woman in this room. Why he would choose this woman over Jade? I have no idea.

  But the guy always has been an idiot.

  “That’s them,” she says, and there’s a hurt note to her voice.

  A pang of jealousy moves through me. She said she had a crush on this guy, but nothing happened between them, right? The idea bothers me more than I’d like to admit.

  And then there’s the other thing. She called her interest in him a crush. Could it be more than that? I’d thought it’d be easy to show her his true colors and help her realize that she deserves better, but maybe it wouldn’t be as easy as I thought.

  But Jade was worth it. So no matter how hard it was to win her over, I was confident that I would.

  “Shall we go greet them?”

  She shakes her head, but I’m already pulling her toward them. Soon they would learn that Jade was ours, and no one messed with what was ours.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jade

  Mr. Blake is in a black suit. It hugs his trim body, and somehow seems more formal than what Emmett wears. My heart races a little as I glance between the two men. I’m a little surprised to realize that Emmett is both taller and broader than Mr. Blake. My boss always seemed like a big, sexy man, but he’s dwarfed by Emmett. And while Mr. Blake has model good looks, he seems almost feminine compared to Emmett.

  But why do I keep comparing them?

  It was strange. I knew Mr. Blake. I’d cleaned for him for years, that’s part of why I fell so hard for him. It doesn’t make sense that I’m even looking at Emmett right now. Even if he is less of a jerk than I thought.

  My gaze moves to Allie. The red dress she wears surprises me. All those years seeing her in baggy, ill-fitting clothes, I knew she was thin, but I didn’t realize that she had such a nice shape.

  Glancing down at myself, I feel oddly embarrassed, like I just want to turn and run. Even with all the hard work everyone put into me, I don’t fit in with the sea of blondes with perfect figures.

  And then, we’re suddenly standing in front of Mr. Blake and Allie.

  “Hello, Blake,” Emmett says, and there’s a coolness to his tone.

  Blake turns slightly and takes in the other man, his gaze traveling up until he meets his eyes. “Emmett.”

  Allie looks in my direction, then does a double-take, her eyes widening as she looks me over. I can see it in her face. She’s trying to figure out why the hell I’m here. Well, she’ll know soon enough.

  A server stops near us, and Emmett grasps a couple champagne glasses and hands one to me.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  Mr. Blake’s gaze turns to me, and I stiffen. “And who’s your lovely date?”

  He doesn’t recognize me? That hurts a little.

  “My lovely date,” Emmett says, drawing my attention to him.

  The other man laughs. “Don’t tell me you’re still mad about Rachel?”

  I glance at Emmett. “Who’s Rachel?”

  “No one,” he answers, too quickly.

  The other man smiles as he speaks. “His high school sweetheart, who just so happened to dump him for me.”

  “You convinced her that you loved her, then broke up with her a week later.”

  “I heard she asked you to take her back after that,” Blake says.

  I try not to show my surprise. I never imagined that Mr. Blake was the kind of person to steal a girl just to be cruel, but it kind of sounds like that happened. And it also sounds like Emmett was a r
elationship guy, which is yet another surprise.

  Emmett seems to draw himself up taller. “And what about your date? I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  Mr. Blake’s expression changes, and my heart aches a little as he looks at Allie with such tenderness. “This is Allison.”

  “Allison,” I say.

  Finally, our eyes lock. “Nice to meet you…Allison.”

  “You…as well,” she says, and I see her stiffening and trying to look casual yet again.

  “I don’t recall seeing you around here,” Emmett comments, taking a sip of his drink.

  She smiles, her painted lips widening. “I’m from out of town. Doing a little traveling after college.”

  “Her parents own a number of vineyards in wine country,” Mr. Blake says.

  My pulse thumps, and I have the overwhelming urge to call her a liar. To start screaming and tell everyone in the room that she is a thieving piece of garbage who stole my lamp, but it’s Emmett who speaks.

  “Then you must know a lot about wine.”

  She doesn’t hesitate. “It’s in my blood.”

  Mr. Blake chuckles.

  Emmett smiles. “I would love to try some of your family’s wine. I’ll have it shipped in. But, tell me, which one do you feel has the best legs? I’ve always loved a wine with good legs.”

  Her fake smile doesn’t waver. “Oh, legs, yes… I’d say one of our…red ones.”

  “Which one?”

  She gives a little giggle. “Our merlot.”

  Probably the only wine she knows about.

  “And who can I call to order some?”

  She sips her own champagne. “I’ll make sure to get that information to you…later.”

  “Or you could give me a name, and I could get it myself.”

  I hold my breath. How does she plan to get out of this one?

  “Speaking of business, how is your little auction house doing?” Mr. Blake says, completely changing the subject.

  “Wonderfully.” Emmett’s expression is frozen into a strained, pleasant one.

  Mr. Blake turns to me. “We were all fairly impressed. Usually new money families are a little more careful than to put all their eggs in one basket, as they say. Most of us thought their little auction house would be closed as quickly as it opened. But apparently, there’s a lot of old men with trinkets to sell.”

  Emmett’s arm tenses under my hand, and I use my fingers to stroke the muscles until I feel him relax once more. “Most people aren’t fortunate enough to live on trust funds, like you. When they start a company, there’s a risk of failing.”

  He tilts his head. “I wouldn’t know about that.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.”

  I knew Emmett seemed not to like Mr. Blake, but it’s becoming increasingly clear over their conversation that they really hate each other. And maybe for good reason. But watching them having a pissing match isn’t why I’m here.

  Forcing a smile, I turn to Allie and take a deep breath. “So, All…Allison, how long have you and Blake been dating?”

  She turns to Blake and smiles, a huge smile. “Only about a week, but it’s been a wonderful week.”

  He cuts in. “Allie is the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met. She loves boating. She’s generous and kind, active in many charities, and she even likes football. Go Angry Bananas!”

  “Go Angry Bananas!” Allie says.

  My mouth draws into a frown that I can’t help. “You like the same team?”

  Mr. Blake grins. “Apparently her father, when he was alive, loved them.”

  It feels like I swallowed a rock. She told him her father was dead? Who the hell is low enough to use that to gain what they want?

  “That’s amazing. And I bet you hate their rivals, the Red Beavers, a lot,” I say, forcing myself to not give away just how angry I am.

  “The bastards can go kick balls!” Allie says.

  Mr. Blake turns to her, looking surprised. “Their rivals are the Sliced Apples.”

  Her smile falters. “Oh, yeah.”

  She glances back at me, and a calculating look comes to her eyes.

  “And you like boats,” I say. “What’s your favorite kind?”

  “All of them,” she responds, too quickly.

  “Just my kind of girl!” Mr. Blake says.

  I’m about to press harder, to show that she’s a giant, lying piece of shit when an older couple comes and joins our conversation. Everything instantly changes, and we’re all back to forced smiles and superficial topics that leave me bored. I know immediately that I don’t do as good a job as Allie. She flirts with Mr. Blake relentlessly. She charms the older couple with ease. And I stand their feeling like the ugliest turd in a turd pile.

  When Emmett tugs us away and brings us to the bar, we chug our drinks and order another round. This time of harder stuff. I feel oddly disappointed as we stand together drinking. Like I’m still an outcast, even with my beautiful dress and my hair and makeup as perfect as it can get.

  Which means no matter how much I want it, even with my lamp, I might never fit into this world.

  The thought makes me drink harder.

  When I reach for my fourth drink, Emmett’s hand curls around mine on the cup. “Stop.”

  My gaze jerks to his. “Why?”

  “Because you’re sad and trying to get smashed, and I have no idea why.”

  “You don’t know why?” The volume of my voice gets a little higher, drawing the gaze of someone further down the bar. I take a deep breath, willing myself to keep my voice low. “Are you serious? That was a train wreck.”

  His brows rise. “No, it wasn’t. It went perfectly according to plan.”

  I snatch my drink and pull my hand away from his. “How can you say that? We didn’t get him to see her for who she is. She’s still on his arm right now! And she fits in here, and I don’t. And he didn’t even recognize me.”

  Something gentles in Emmett’s expression and he shifts closer to me. So close I have a desire both to move closer and rest my hands on his chest, and to step away. “Nothing was ever built in a day. Something like this takes time. It’s about planting the seeds of doubt, which you did perfectly. And the fact that he didn’t recognize you, that should tell you about the man you’ve put on a pedestal. You might have thought you had some kind of special connection, but Mr. Blake is a rich asshole who doesn’t see anyone he doesn’t want to see. He’s just good at using people to make himself feel good.”

  “No,” I interrupt him. “He helps people. He—“

  “He donates to charities to help his tax bracket and that’s about it.”

  I shake my head. “You don’t know him the way I do.”

  “And you don’t know him the way I do,” Emmett presses. “But I can see that it’ll take more than what I have to say to show you the truth, so let’s forget it. Now, what you want isn’t just to destroy her, you want him to notice you. Right?”

  I nod, feeling odd as I do.

  “Then the best thing you can do is show him that other people want you. He’s the kind of man who only wants what he can’t have.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” I ask, frowning.

  “Leave it to me,” he says.

  I don’t know what he’s doing when he takes my drink, sets it on the bartop, and hauls me away from it all. But I have one moment of horror when I realize where we’re going before we’re on the dance floor with couples spinning around us.

  “Emmett,” I whisper. “I can’t dance.”

  He smiles. “Luckily for you, all you need to do is let me lead. Can you do that?”

  I start to shake my head.

  “Just trust me.” One of his hands slides onto my hip and the other takes my hand.

  I put my hand on his shoulder, and then, we’re spinning around. Panic uncurls within me for a second. I stumble a bit, but his grip is strong, and he keeps us moving. The alcohol feels warm in my stomach, and the room moves a bit more than it sh
ould. But when nothing terrible happens, like me falling into a table or tumbling straight onto my ass, I start to relax.

  And when I do, I realize Emmett’s smiling down at me.

  “What?” I say.

  “I was just thinking how beautiful you are.”

  My cheeks feel hot. “I’m not. It’s like I’m in a room full of dolls, and I’m an ogre bride.”

  He leans closer, so that his breath warms my ear. “I happen to think beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and you, sweet Jade, are stunning. Like a raven in the midst of a sea of pigeons.”

  I laugh. “I absolutely am not.”

  He holds me a little closer. “You know what else?”

  “What?”

  “I think the fact that you don’t fit in here is a good thing.”

  My body tenses. “And why’s that?”

  “Because you don’t want to be like these people. Trust me. Most of them are absolutely miserable.”

  I shake my head. “How can they be miserable? They have everything.”

  A sad smile plays at his lips. “No, they don’t. They have money and stuff, but most of them aren’t happy. Wealth doesn’t equal happy.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  I’m surprised when he hesitates, and an unexpectedly sad look comes over his face.

  “Emmett?”

  “No,” he says. “Let’s not put a cloud on tonight.”

  “Talk to me,” I find myself saying.

  Our dance slows, and now I’m sure he looks sad. “We’ve lived in this area all our lives. Our dad worked for Blake’s dad, and our mom stayed home with us. We didn’t have a lot of money, but we made it just fine. We went to the same private school as most of the kids in this area, with some help from scholarships.

  “The thing we learned pretty quickly was that our family was unusual. Our parents loved each other. They loved us. They didn’t want to hire people to raise us, or work and barely be together. We were just…really, really happy.”

  “And then they died,” I say, wishing immediately I could take the words back.