Beautiful Distraction (42 page)

“I’d love to give us a try,” I said.

His glorious lips curled into the most stunning smile I had
ever seen, melting my heart. “I thought nothing would change your mind.”

“What can I say, you’re a master of persuasion. In fact,
you’re a guy with many talents.” Smiling, I pulled him on top of me and wrapped
my legs around his waist, ready to demand that he put one of those talents to
good use.

It was early afternoon when I finally managed to drag myself
out of Jett’s steamy bed to text Sylvie I’d be back home in an hour, in case
she had forgotten. Because my car was still parked at the airport, costing me a
fortune, Jett offered to drive me. Since I wasn’t keen on Jett’s speeding
through New York’s streets, I declined in favor of the subway, which didn’t
bode well with him. In the end we decided to call a company car that would
drive me home. I left my car keys with him because he insisted on getting
someone to pick it up for me, and I even let him carry my luggage downstairs
from his apartment while his driver was waiting.

“You’ll text?” Shivering in the damp chill of a rainy
afternoon, I bit my lip nervously. Playing the clingy girlfriend wasn’t like
me, and yet I couldn’t help it. This was different.
We
were different.

Jett touched my nose with the tip of his finger, his eyes
shining with wry amusement. “Will it freak you out if I do so while you’re
still in the car?”

A warm, fuzzy explosion settled deep in my chest. “I’d love
that.” He placed a gentle yet lingering kiss on my lips, and then held the door
open for me.

After spending two weeks together, it felt surreal to drive
away from him. Jett was where I belonged. To my surprise, the sudden
realization didn’t weigh me down; it made my heart beat faster, and soft
flutters like those of hundreds of butterfly wings gathered somewhere in the
pit of my stomach.

It was the first time I’d ever ridden in a limo, and Jett’s
driver made the journey even more memorable by pointing to a tiny refrigerator
with snacks and champagne, which I politely declined. I wasn’t there to eat; I
wanted to enjoy the view. And there was plenty to see.

Sitting in the back seat of the plush limousine, I stared
out the tinted windows at buzzing New York. The city was coming to life, and in
some way I felt I was too. We had defined the relationship, and today was our
first day as a couple. I was dating a hot, successful guy who was very much
into me. For the first time in my life, I felt I wasn’t as plain as I always
thought. We had decided to keep our relationship a secret for a few more days,
until I settled into my job. We didn’t want people thinking I got the job
because I was sleeping with the boss. Theoretically I was, but it hadn’t been
my intention to sleep my way up the career ladder. I had sex with Jett because
I was attracted to him. Jett hired me because he wanted me. It was lust at
first sight.

We had cancelled our contract after our midday romp, and I
was finally free to reveal our status to Sylvie. In fact, Jett insisted on it,
not telling me why. In my logic, it was a sign he wanted to enter my circle of
friends and be introduced as my boyfriend. And I couldn’t wait for the whole
world to know we were together.

I arrived at our apartment shortly after three p.m. and
opened the door with apprehension, unsure what to expect. My best friend could
be one of two things: so elated to see me that she’d forget I sort of hid the
truth from her, or pissed because I kept a secret for two weeks. As I opened
the door, I certainly didn’t expect to see the whole neighborhood gathered in
our living room, shouting ‘Surprise’ at the top of their lungs. How the hell
did Sylvie manage to gather the whole clique, including people I didn’t even
know, in such a short time? She must have planned it for days. And that’s when
it dawned on me that Sylvie could be a third thing: in party mode.

“Thanks, guys.” I put my suitcase down near the door and let
a few of my friends envelop me in tight hugs, welcoming their congratulations
on the new job. My gaze wandered across the room, sweeping over smiling,
already intoxicated faces, and red drinking cups that littered our small living
room. My attention fell on Sylvie who was squeezing her way toward me, her emotions
clearly visible in her pouting lips and narrowed eyes.

She was mad but also curious. Our phone conversation hadn’t
been forgotten. Knowing her focus on being liked by everybody, I knew she
wouldn’t go for drama with so many people around. But there’d be plenty of
hissed reproaches and venomous looks.

Taking a deep breath, I smiled.

I could deal with that. A crouching tigress was better than
a pouncing one.

“Hey, you,” I said, grabbing her in a tight hug. “I missed
you like crazy.”

“Stewart, you’re so screwed.” Her blue eyes twinkled, but
her pout remained in place.

I made a point of unbuttoning my jacket in slow motion as I
regarded her from under my lashes, teasing her with a wicked smile. “From that
I gather you don’t want to hear the dirty?”

“You’re killing me.”

Laughing at her exaggerated eye roll, I grabbed a cup and
took a sip of what tasted like Sylvie decided to empty an entire mini bar in
there, and pulled her into a relatively quiet corner.

“Your plane landed yesterday. Where the heck have you been?”
Her eyes spat fire. “Do you realize I had to keep this party up all night and
day? You owe me a fortune for the booze.”

“I slept with him and now we’re together,” I blurted out,
unable to contain the excitement in my voice.

For some reason I expected her to ask who I was talking
about, but Sylvie just inclined her head and kept silent for a few moments, the
glint in her eyes not quite mirroring the excitement I felt.

“At least he called,” was all she said.

“What?” I said slowly, shaking my head in confusion. “At
least
who
called?” What was she talking about?

Waving her hand, she exhaled a long breath. “I told him I’d
come after him with a pitchfork if he didn’t.”

“Who?” I crossed my arms over my chest, my gaze scanning her
cryptic expression. I really had no idea what she was talking about.

“Who do you I think?” She rolled her eyes. “Jett, of
course.”

“You know his name?” Why did she know his name?

“Of course I do.”

“How?” It was a stupid question. Her raised eyebrow said it
all. They had exchanged numbers on that fateful night before I woke up with him
in my bed. Or maybe during their morning talk while I was taking a shower and
preparing myself for work. Later, she had offered to tell me his name, but I
thought she was bluffing. I didn’t like it. Not one bit. All heat drained from
my cheeks as something else dawned on me.

“You stayed in touch?” My voice sounded like a bird’s croak,
all low and hoarse. The first wave of shock hit me hard. It wasn’t because my
best friend had his number. I wasn’t
that
jealous and insecure. I just didn’t like people talking about me behind my
back.

“Did you talk while we were in Italy?” I asked, moistening
my suddenly dry lips.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. So they did, and she knew
something. Maybe everything.

As though sensing my annoyance, Sylvie opened her mouth to
speak, and then closed it, only to open it a moment later. “Brooke, guys like
him don’t do relationships. I don’t mind you dating him, but don’t get too
involved emotionally.”

“You don’t even know him,” I hissed.

“Fair enough, I don’t know him
that
well but—” She trailed off. As though she couldn’t look
at me, she buried her gaze in her cup, which gave me enough time to take in her
demure dress reaching just below her knees, and the sweetheart neckline that
barely revealed any skin. Maybe the fling with Ryan touched her more than I
thought, and she couldn’t share my enthusiasm because she had lost faith in all
men.
If I were lied to, sacked, and disappointed,
maybe I’d also start thinking men don’t do relationships. But I didn’t
experience her heartbreak, and Jett was nothing like Ryan.

I knew Sylvie meant me no harm; her emotional scars just
hadn’t healed yet. I wrapped my arm around her and rubbed her back gently. “Oh,
sweetie. Thanks for being such a good friend.”

As if my words broke the ice, a hesitant smile replaced the
wary curve of her lips. “You’re happy?”

I nodded. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Then I’m happy too.”

Ignoring the sudden lump in my throat, I began to recall my
trip to Bellagio, omitting the sex agreement and steamy bits, so I mostly
focused on the landscape and beautiful Italian views, the mansion, and Jett.

“Shit, you’re fawning,” Sylvie said as I finally finished.

“Am not.”

Was I?

“That’s what falling in love does to one.”

I had been thinking the same, but to hear the truth coming
from her mouth, full of conviction, scared me. Falling in love wasn’t meant to
happen so fast…or so intensely.

“I’m not in love.” My voice came out louder than intended.
It was a lie. I could hear it, she could hear it. Heck, the whole world
probably could.

A few heads turned in our direction. Sylvie waved them to
turn away before she focused back on me. Her blue eyes sliced into me with an
unnerving intensity, and she leaned closer so no one would hear her. “Listen,
darling, I’m sure Jett is a nice guy and all, but he’s also one of the richest
men in New York. He might not want to hurt you, but others will.
This is a whole different society. Even if you accompany
him everywhere, wear and do what people expect of you, you won’t be accepted into
their circle because of your background.”

She couldn’t be serious. “What the heck are you talking
about? You’re making it sound like I’m getting involved with the Mafia.”

“Worse,” she mumbled.

“What?”

She raised her hands in defense. “Nothing. I just thought
I’d warn you.”

“About
what
?” The
whole situation was so funny, I could barely contain my hysteria. Of course she
knew everything about rich people and the high society. She had been born into
it and spent eighteen years of her life trying to please her mother, before
turning her back on it all. Apart from the regular check that came in the post
and her fondness for expensive stuff, there were no reminders of her
background. She never mentioned her past or family, and I didn’t ask.

“Watch
The Real
Housewives
, and multiply that by ten. And then you might get an idea,”
Sylvie said.

I didn’t want to point out she was referencing a reality TV
show, and they usually come scripted to their teeth. They don’t film people
doing normal stuff, like brushing their teeth and lounging around in their PJs
because no one’s interested in that stuff. “I’m so jet lagged I need to get
some sleep.” I stood and placed a soft peck on her cheek.

“What about the party?”

I shrugged. “Might be time to send them all home and call it
a day.” I loved my friends and appreciated the fact that they turned up to
congratulate me on my job and making it back from Europe, alive. But let’s face
it, they were more interested in filling up their drinking cups than listening
to my traveling stories. “But thanks for this. Did I ever tell you you’re the
best friend ever?”

Sylvie crossed her toned arms over her chest, still pouting,
but for once she kept quiet. With an apologetic smile, I left for my room and
locked the door behind me. I didn’t even bother to change, just stripped off my
clothes and snuggled into my cotton sheets, ready to catch up on all the sleep
I missed out in the last two weeks. But, as tired as I was, Sylvie’s words kept
ringing inside my head. All I could think of was that I was in debt, with no
savings left, and there were so many women richer than me, more beautiful, and
more successful, who’d kill for a slice of Jett. If someone were to ask me what
I could offer him on the long term, apart from my heart, the answer would be: I
don’t know.

***

The persistent tugging at my arm, followed by someone
calling my name, jerked me out of my sleep. I blinked groggily against the
glaring brightness and tried to pull the covers over my head.

“Brooke, wake up,” Sylvie said, yanking my sheets off the
bed.

Aware of my half-naked body, I sat up and pulled the sheets
back over my breasts to cover my modesty. “What the hell do you want?” My eyes
threw daggers at her sheepish expression.

“Sorry.” She wasn’t. “The guy I’ve been telling you about is
on the phone. He insisted that I wake you, so—” She trailed off.

I checked my watch and groaned inwardly. I had slept for a
mere three hours. “So you, being a good friend and all, risked giving a very
tired me a heart attack because some sales shark told you so.”

She shrugged and turned to leave, calling over her shoulder,
“He has a nice accent. And he said you’d want to hear what he has to tell you.”

Of course.

That certainly made sense.

Ignoring the urge to crawl back into my bed, I wrapped a
bathrobe around my shivering body and walked into the hall to get this
admittedly extremely pushy sales clerk out of my life.