by Stacy Lane
But Alex was wrong about one thing.
The spoken words weren’t the only exception to the rule of making our feelings for each other become truth.
Our actions sealed that fate.
CHAPTER 10
ALEX
“HE REALLY HAS a sexy voice.”
“And look at the way he fills out that tux.”
I make eye contact with the two imbeciles gabbing as if I can’t hear them. I’m five feet away, at the same table.
“Thankfully, Mom makes him speak at these events, but really, it's magnificent how gorgeous the three of us are.”
“It’s like looking in a mirror.”
“If the both of you do not shut up, I promise the next time you look in a mirror those similarities will be rearranged.” I stare Brooks and Cam down as I lift a fresh glass of whiskey to my lips.
“So testy,” Cam smiles, unperturbed by the threat.
“Boys. Behave.” Dad wishes to smack us—most likely Cam since he's the nearest to reach—but we're at a public event. We're supposed to be civilized.
The first half of the auction is done. Dinner is being served, and I’m stuck at a table with my family, my brothers’ dates, and Chelsea.
Mom had a fit when I appeared at her side seconds before she was about to find another person to present the items being auctioned off for charity. She fussed and picked at my tousled hair and wrinkled jacket. She didn't ask questions. Somehow my rumpled presence was still a better option than asking Brooks or Cam to open tonight's events.
Our parents started the Labelle charity when someone very close to us was in an accident that left her in a state she could never recover from. Medical bills, among other unexpected expenses, were getting out of hand. The resources helped more than just one person.
Then Mom got a feel for helping others. She wanted to go bigger. Do more. This was our third annual charity gala.
And her sons were not capable of telling her no.
The band played while everyone arrived. People mingled and drank. The idea was to get everyone loose with their liquor so they would be loose with their purse strings. We auctioned off smaller items in the first half. Signed memorabilia from athletes who donated, personal suites to next seasons opening game, hotel stays given by the owner in attendance, small things like that. The bigger stuff was held for later.
I downed three fingers of Jack before my entrée even arrived. Usually, I didn't drink this heavy at these kinds of parties. They were for fun, but they were mainly organized to mingle and talk business. Mr. Kendricks was here so I should have been on my best behavior. Instead, I was getting locked in coat closets and cavorting with a woman I needed to stay away from.
The room will keep our secret…
That was such a load of bullshit. At the time, I believed in it. Now I smelled as if that load of dung was dumped directly on me.
When I started my day, I knew I would be out of the apartment for the majority of it. I house hunted, even put in an offer on one. I got back while Chelsea and Jo were in her room getting ready. Brooks asked me to ride over with them, and I had no reason to turn him down.
Until Chelsea—who obviously never heard me come in, or did and thought to torture me most cruelly—pranced through the living room like the vixen she is.
I’ve never gotten that hard in an instant in my life.
The corset curved and outlined her tiny waist, but pushed up the breasts I knew from a split seconds experience that were heavy and full. I swear I thought she was going to spill out of that contraption.
After that, I couldn't ride over to the gala in the same car as her. I needed to get my head on straight. Again. Something that was getting harder and harder to do as each day passed with her living down the hall.
The party was a large gathering, I thought I could keep my distance for most of it. At the very least, we weren’t to be left alone in a crowd like this.
But then Colt Andrews happened.
That assface. I considered him a close friend. He’s my agent, but he’s always been a close confidant too.
Colt caught sight of Chelsea. She didn’t have to say or do anything, just her presence could tempt anyone. And she had Colt on the hook before there was even a line in the water.
He hasn’t dated much since his divorce. The poor sap got tongue-tied around every woman he was interested in. He was standing next to me when Chelsea entered the room. He wanted to talk to her. He asked me for advice on what to say.
I swiped a full bottle of champagne from a server when Colt walked off to follow her outside.
I was looking for a dark space to brood in my feelings—I’m not ashamed to admit I have those—when the girl at coat check wandered off with a young man in a server’s uniform.
It’s the last place anyone would expect a run-in with another human being.
Fucking fate had it out for me.
She was meant to return promptly to Colt. I was the villain who stalled that happily ever after in the making.
I wasn’t even mad about it.
Colt used the wrong words when he was nervous. I had the advantage of understanding that when most didn’t. He called her pretty, but what he really meant was more than he could gather in that brilliant brain of his.
Except, I watched her walk in tonight too. The gorgeous pink gown swayed around her legs, the slit opening with the greatest preview in the history of tanned, bare leg every time she brought that left foot forward. Hair that was always left down, curling wildly around her, was pulled back exposing a long, tender and porcelain neck. The ivory coat slid off her creamy shoulders, and I was a goner.
Literally gone. I could not stand there another second and listen to my friend gush about the pretty pink one.
The first course of dinner was being placed in front of us when my brothers decided to nag me some more.
“Where did you run off to anyway, Alex? None of us even saw you until the auction started.” Brooks wrapped an arm around the back of Jo’s chair, twirling a strand of her hair.
Everyone looked at me.
“I found a dark room to occupy.”
Technically, not a lie.
“Ohhhh. Nice.” Cam nodded, approving what he assumes I was doing in there.
Technically, not incorrect.
Everyone reacts differently. Cam and Brooks grin, Jo shakes her head but still smiles along with the other two, Mom gasps, Dad appears indifferent, but it's Chelsea I watch out of the corner of my eye.
Neither one of us brought a date, so Mom sat us next to each other.
Her posture stiffened, and I heard her breath catch ever so slightly. In the light of day, or in our case, in the view of glamour, what we did inside that coat closet was a terrible mistake.
An ineluctable choice that I do not regret, but an error nonetheless.
“Hey.” Jo leans an inch toward Chelsea. “How did your walk with Ryan Gosling go?”
“We didn't get a chance. Maybe later,” she answers with gentleness, but I hear the detachment. I can't decide if I'm happy with myself for ruining her intrigue of another man, or disgusted because they are good people and I should want what's best for them.
They are two people that deserve a little greatness in their lives right now. But…
I held Chelsea against my body. I kissed her, and she kissed me back with unparalleled desire. I ran my fingers over her wet center, and I would have invaded the delicate piece of material blocking my path if we hadn't been interrupted.
I awakened a beast.
And those veracious desires did not remain trapped inside that small room.
“Who’s this fella you’re talking about?” This piques Mom’s interest.
“Chelsea met a guy earlier. He wants to take her for a walk by the water.”
“Oh, how romantic.”
I clench my jaw and raise my glass. Then set it back down with too much force when I forgot it’s already been emptied.
“His name is Colt Andrew
s,” Chelsea tells everyone.
“Colt?” Brooks and Cam say together.
Everyone is looking at me again.
“Colt is my agent,” I bite out, lifting my tumbler when I see the server nearby. He nods, scurrying off to bring me another, thank God.
“Your agent,” Chelsea repeats. Very slow and very suspicious.
“He's much older than you, dear,” Dad warns Chelsea in a fatherly way. I'd almost believe his concern if he did not keep glancing over at me with an expectant look. When that fails, he turns to my mother for help. “Right, my love? He's close to forty, has a vile ex of a wife, and has a kid. Chelsea would be good for someone mature, but that man has baggage.”
“Earl, Chelsea is not going to date one of our sons. Get over it.”
Chelsea had been drinking from a glass of water. She spits it out.
“Oh my, are you okay?” Mom asks like she doesn’t know what could have caused her to choke in the first place.
“They’ve only been living together for less than a week. It can happen,” Dad says with hope.
Jo checks on Chelsea when her coughing persists.
“I knew you were behind that,” I mutter, glaring at the old, scheming trickster.
“I’m offended I wasn’t thought of when the idea came to you.” Cam joins the cluster of chaos that is my life, with disregard to his date sitting next to him.
“No, you two aren’t a good match.” He shakes his head, relaxing in his chair after taking the last bite of food on his plate.
“That's for the best. I hired Chelsea, and I can't date my employees. Didn't work well for me the last time I tried that.”
“I think you use the word date a little too loose, Cam,” Brooks says.
I turn my head. “I’m sorry, did I hear that correctly? You hired Chelsea?”
“Our staff is mostly college students. They go home in the summer. Chelsea's looking to pass the time while she's here, so I gave her a job.”
“I think Colt would be a fine catch, Chelsea.” Mom shoots Dad with a cross glare.
“So where'd you sneak off to if you didn't go with Colt?” Jo's brows turn down. “You weren't in the ballroom, I would have seen you. I was people watching. The rich ones have fascinating traits.”
“Um.” There’s not enough break in the three topics passing around the table for Chelsea to even answer.
“Angel, I’m rich.” Brooks feels the need to remind his girlfriend.
“You will be too one day when you get married.” Dad wags his finger at her.
“We’re not getting married.”
“We’re keeping the option open,” Brooks revises soon after she said that.
Jo gives him a withering stare.
Brooks kisses her to distraction.
“So you disappeared also.” Cam locks his keen eyes on Chelsea, then shifts them back to me.
Where in the hell is my drink?
“Coincidence,” I drawl. “Why wasn’t I informed of this new hire?”
“Because I never inform you of my hires and fires.” Cam’s head tilts, inspecting me like I’m under a microscope. Then his lips turn up as if he’s discovered some new element.
“Is there a problem with Chelsea working at the bar?” Brooks asks.
The server sets my drink on the table.
“Miss,” a familiar voice creeps up from behind Chelsea and I. “You left your phone in the coat room.”
Chelsea’s eyes drop to the cell phone held out to her. “That’s not my phone.”
Oh, for the love of God, why?
I slide a hand across my right side at the pocket beneath my jacket. My empty pocket.
“Oh.” The young, innocent little lamb flicks her eyes toward me then jerks away.
We had a deal. She didn't see me leave the closet after Chelsea and Colt walked away, and I never saw her taking an early break to make out with a champagne server.
“Why were you in the coat closet?” Jo asks with genuine curiosity.
“To…get my coat.”
Chelsea is a horrendous liar. Her words speak the truth, but the vagueness gives away the lie.
“My mistake. I’ll put it in the lost and found.” The girl turns, but not quick enough.
“Alex, isn’t that your phone?”
Dammit, Brooks. I hold out faith that he’s the slow one in times like this.
"Were you in the coat closet too?" Dad asks me.
“Together?” Brooks follows up with.
Jo snaps her head toward Chelsea.
“I never saw you in the closet, sir. It must have fallen from your coat after you checked it in.” The girl thinks she helped by keeping to our agreement, but she only made it worse.
“Alex, you didn’t bring a coat,” Mom says, eyes zeroing in.
Chelsea might throw up whatever water did not come back out already.
I take my cell phone from the girl’s grasp. A little white lie already sits on the tip of my tongue. Before I can say anything, Cam’s date gasps, shoving away from the table.
“Shit. Sorry. I'm so clumsy.” Cam tosses his napkin in her lap, both of them dabbing at the wine he knocked over. The red LeBlanc covers her white dress.
The fiasco, made worse by Cam's whiny date threatening to leave and drawing attention from everyone nearby, distracts the inquisition on Chelsea and me.
While they all have their focus elsewhere, I catch Chelsea’s worried face looking at me.
She doesn't want anyone to know what happened. I think that's for the best too.
I can promise her that.
What I can’t promise is what might happen when we’re alone in the apartment once this party ends.
• • •
IF I THOUGHT seeing Chelsea in that corset and not being able to touch her was torture, then nothing could describe the pain I went through for the next hour.
The time during five courses dragged at a snail’s pace. I sat there in torment, her captivating fragrance drifting toward me or her melodious laughter sending shivers down my neck. Then every time her hand would drop beneath the table, I longed to take ahold of it and stroke the inside of her wrist. I wanted more than anything to see her reaction to my touch. I felt her all over me, but I needed the image of what she looks like under ecstasy.
The madness drove me to skip the dessert course.
Ironic as it may be, I took a walk outside.
The final items for charity were auctioned off. Brooks placed a bid on an island vacation in the Bahamas and won. He promised Jo they would go away together in the off-season and she was getting her wish. She was getting more than she ever could have thought possible. The trip to the Bahamas is for a month's stay on the owner's private island. A whole island all to themselves.
Guests were leaving, some were staying to drink and dance. I stepped out onto the patio when Colt walked over to our table and took my empty seat next to Chelsea.
I was surprised as hell when he joined me a couple minutes later.
“There you are.” Colt crosses the large, brightly lit terrace with a hand reaching inside his jacket pocket. He retrieves two cigars.
I pluck one from his hand.
“I couldn’t leave without sharing one smoke with my best client.”
“I used to be your best client. Now you only stick around out of pity.”
Colt lights his cigar, taking a few puffs in before releasing it into the breezy air. He hands over his lighter. “Either way, you should feel special. I don’t do that for anyone.”
“I’m about to be employed again, so maybe I'll fire you just for the hell of it.” I grin, holding the Cuban cigar between my teeth.
Colt gazes out over the large body of water. The river flows with the wind, splashing onto the docks. “She’s the wife of one of your players, Labelle.” Smoke billows passed my lip. I twist to face him. “Professionally speaking, I would advise against it.”
“You’re not my publicist.”
“I’m your friend.
And because of that, I know two things. It's risky, and that will stop you from pursuing anything with her. Or, it's risky, but even that won't stop you from going after what you want even if you lose your job.”
You haven’t signed any contracts yet.
“How’d you figure it out?” I ignore giving him an answer.
“The room was dark, so I get why you didn't notice. It was clear Chelsea wasn't in there alone, and whomever she was with, they did not have innocent chitchat to pass the time.”
“I didn’t plan to—”
“Alex, stop. You are one of the few people I trust above all else in this world. I don’t need an explanation. You saw her first.” He shrugs, simple as that.
I let loose a long sigh. “Nothing happened between us until tonight. And we really did get locked in there by accident. No one else knows, and it needs to stay that way.”
“Jesus. Not this again, man.” Colt blasts me with fervid frustration.
“No. This is not an Elle situation.” My defense is weak as long as I continue to hide the truth about Elle from my family. Colt knows that too.
In this case, with Chelsea, it really has nothing to do with Elle.
Colt lifts a brow, asking his next question with a visible show that he already knows the answers. “So you’re going to finally tell your brothers you and Elle reconciled after the injury?”
“Reconciled is a little too kind of a word for what I had with her.”
“Because she was twisted and crazy and lied to keep you from dumping her a second time.”
“Don’t remind me,” I groan. For a fraction in time, I was happy again. Then Elle being Elle, ripped it away. “Can we leave Elle in the past, please? This is not about her.”
“Of course,” he conceded easily. Too easily. “This is about Chelsea Matthias.”
A long, heavy sigh passes with a puff of my smoke.
Colt takes a long pull of his cigar. “You read the copy of your contract I sent over?”
I nod, holding to my earlier hope that if I don't repeat the words aloud, it will soften the truth.
“How’d you know it was me in there with her?” I ask after a while.
