by L. Steele
"What video?" Jace doesn't bother lowering his voice.
For the first time, he notices the whispering in the room. The girl in the row in front of him titters, as if she's in on a joke. One he's not aware of.
A cold hand grips Jace's heart.
He turns to the other man. "Show me."
Phone whipped out, screen swiped to YouTube, and then Jace sees the video.
The sound of heavy breathing, then moans. Jace stares at the couple on screen. Lush auburn hair covers the woman's face. It flows over her chest, covering her breasts.
She raises her head, exposing the expanse of her throat. Then opens her eyes straight into the camera, a gasp leaving her lips.
It’s Sienna.
A younger Sienna, with fuller features. Lips unpainted.
Jace knows the taste of those lips.
Sickness twists his gut. What the fuck is she doing in this video? Who made the video? And who is the boy with her?
Purple-black fury races through him, his fingers curl around the phone.
Another groan escapes her, and his body reacts to it, even as he curses himself. He tries to make out the face of the man behind her. It's pixelated but from his bony shoulders he too seems young, a teenager.
The camera freezes on her profile.
Who could do this to her?
More importantly, was she aware of being filmed?
She must know the video has been leaked.
And yet here she was, on stage, composed and facing the audience. No sign of worry or discomfort on her face.
Either she doesn't give a damn that people had seen the video or what they thought of her. Or she's doing a damn fine job of ignoring them.
In this room, at least, she had the power. And she was holding onto it. She was refusing to let the video get the better of her. That took guts alright.
As he's thinking that, she raises her eyes and meets his gaze, squarely. She freezes, her shoulders still. Even at this distance, he can see her go pale.
Sienna's as surprised to see him as he was to see her.
Grabbing her bag, she bends down to say something to the Frenchman, kissing his cheek before leaving to walk out the side door.
The man next to him grabs his phone, pocketing it before jumping to his feet and joining the rest of his team who have been called in to pitch.
A low buzz breaks out among the audience, and Jace can feel most eyes in the audience following her out.
As he debates what to do next, the French man announces, "Ms. Murphy is not feeling well, but has asked us to continue with the pitch. We will share the results of today along with the recorded pitches with her and the final choice of five winners will receive $100,000 each. Investment from her will be communicated to all of you by the end of tomorrow. Now then—"
On his feet, Jace pushes his way between rows of seated people. Drawing more than a few irate comments along the way, he makes for the exit.
Adrenaline pours through his veins, as his heart thuds in his chest.
He can't let her go, not this time.
41
Sienna
* * *
I rush out of the conference room toward the parking garage. My heart's beating so fast I'm sure it's going to jump out of my chest.
Of all the places in the Valley, Jace turns up here. It'd been advertised that I was on the panel. Jace must have seen it, and known I'd be here today. Seeing him had cut through the sophisticated veneer I'd tried to project to the world despite the video circulating.
Walking through the crowded room toward the platform, I'd been aware of the eyes of the audience following me. The whispers, the stares. Either they're talking about the video or my recent inheritance.
Inside I'd cringed. The air, thick with unspoken questions, weighed down on me. Heart thumping, resisting the urge to bite my nails, I'd focused simply on making it to the stage.
I wasn't going to let the speculation get to me. I must stay strong.
My adoptive father would've been proud. He's always insisted I face every challenge life threw at me head on. That I never back down.
It's that iron will of his that had helped me make it through the early years of my new life in the US. When I'd wanted to fit in and had yet felt so out of place.
I'd felt every bit as out of place on that stage.
I hadn't wanted to come but the organizer had insisted, claiming my presence would help with the publicity. I'm now a minor celebrity. My inheritance story's all the rage in the Valley. The adoptee who inherited substantial money from her rich blood family and who'd decided to use it to help other starts-ups. Yeah, the media loves it.
They'd spun it as someone who wanted to share her good fortune by giving back to the Silicon Valley community. The bankrupt entrepreneur turned Angel Investor.
And then it strikes me.
That's why Tom released the video. The news of my inheritance was the last straw. Not only had I refused to help him with my then 'fiancé's' money, I had come into money of my own and still not helped him. And that must have made him mad.
This time, Tom hadn't even approached me for money, knowing full well I'd refuse him. Again.
Still, I hadn't expected him to release the video, had hoped our shared childhood years together would have made him hold back.
And now Jace has seen it, too. Every man in that room has seen it. No doubt they'd been thinking of fucking me even as I sat there on stage, face muscles rigid with the effort of not letting any of the emotions inside show on my face.
Now, my muscles sag with relief. I step out of the building and hurry toward my car. I reach for the door, when a shadow falls over the window. A hand covers mine. A shiver runs up my spine.
I know who it is even before I look up.
I'd expected Jace to follow me out. Would've been disappointed if he hadn't.
My eyes drink in the sight of him. Those silver-green eyes, high cheekbones, square jaw.
I'd missed him, had so wanted to see him.
But not like this. Not after he'd seen the video. Still, I can't pull away, don't want to let go of the feel of his hand on mine. My skin drinks in the feel of his palm, as it slides up my arm to my shoulder. Even through the sleeve of my suit, the warmth of his fingers bleeds through. Goose bumps spring to life across my forearm.
I turn around fast enough to take him by surprise. His jaw hardens as his eyes alight on my lips. It's like he's physically touched me. I shiver again. Pull myself together.
"What do you want?" I growl out.
Jace takes a step back. Lets me go to put up his palms and show he means no harm.
My eyes are drawn to his forearms, up toward the play of muscles across his shoulders. I realize then, what's bothering me.
He's dressed in a far more casual way than before. I've never seen Jace wear a hoodie. He's trying to blend in with the crowd inside.
No chance.
That familiar aura of power clings to him, one that will always set Jace apart from the crowd no matter where he is.
His face also looks thinner, cheekbones standing in relief to the rest of him. He's not been eating properly.
A surge of concern runs through me, and I clamp down on it. He means nothing to me. I have no reason to care for him.
When I meet his eyes, I flinch. Those silver-green eyes are exactly as I remember them. They stand out, even more vivid on his darker face. Right now, they're glowing with suppressed emotion, with pain and anger.
He's angry with me.
So mad that he can't trust himself to touch me for fear of breaking my bones.
I breathe in sharply, and pain twists my gut.
Why should I be surprised? I should not have expected anything different. Of course he's upset. I would be too if he had broken a promise and walked away at the crucial moment.
I put up my palms, my gesture meant to soothe.
The rage on his features fades away, leaving behind pain. And hurt. So much hurt. It vibrates
off him. Lonely. He's so lonely. Confused. He feels betrayed. He'd trusted me, and I’d let him down.
"I'm sorry, Jace." The words burst out of me, and I'm not even sure anymore what I'm apologizing for. For him. For me. For what we could have been?
42
Sienna
* * *
The fluorescent light of the parking lot flickers, illuminating the blue-black of Jace's hair. Car brakes screech, then a vehicle passes by. It breaks the silence between us.
"Why, Sienna?" Jace's voice is stiff, controlled.
He's upset, accent more clipped than usual, his words like blocks of ice flung at me.
I shiver, fold my arms over my waist, hugging myself, to protect myself against his lack of emotion. That cold darkness he now exudes―dark hole that sucks away everything real and human about him, that is going to push him into doing things he'll regret later.
"I shouldn't have left you," I say, and his face goes still.
"You think?" he says, voice sharp enough to cut through me, tearing at pieces of me I thought I'd kept hidden from him, from the world.
I swallow at the leashed pain in his voice and nod. "I broke our agreement. I was wrong."
He stares, taken aback, as if he doesn't believe me.
Folding his arms over his chest, he leans back a little on his heels in a gesture that indicates he's waiting … waiting for me to make the first move.
His jaw hardens. It's as if he's shut himself off, and I can't feel him anymore. And that disturbs me even more. It spurs me to take a step toward him. Then another, till our bodies almost touch.
He doesn't react.
But his eyes are fixed on my face. Snapped there with such intensity that the pale green glitters.
Heat spools off his body.
A flare of desire. I can't resist. Don't want to resist.
Rising to my feet, I brush my lips against his. Once.
No response.
Again.
Still, he doesn't move.
I slide my tongue over his lips, nibbling, trying to get him to open his mouth.
Still no change.
Then his muscles tense, lock into place, and a shudder runs through him. He groans, the sound torn out of him. I feel it rumble up his chest, feel it in that space where my skin touches his. It vibrates up his throat, but I don't let go. I deepen the kiss so I can swallow the sound as it rolls over his tongue.
He drags me to him, so suddenly my palm is caught between us. I feel him throb, feel the heat furnace off him in a dense cloud that pours over me, pooling between my legs.
I clutch at his shirt front as my knees buckle, and he yanks me closer, so close it feels like my skin is melting. He's all around me, and I can't breathe.
The pull toward him is so strong, I know I am precariously close to losing control. To him. Again. And I don't want to. Not this time. This time I want to set the pace. And I want to take my time about it.
I hadn't counted on things spiraling out of control between us like this. Meeting him unprepared has taken me by surprise. That on top of the events of the day. I must get away from here, from him, from how he's making me feel. My throat closes, pulse racing.
I push against him and he lets go. His eyes blaze, desire swirling in them, jumping off him so strongly that I almost lean back into him. My eyes drop to the front of his pants, his arousal so evident that a fresh flare of heat leaps to life in my belly.
No.
I take another step back till I feel the car behind me. His hands drop to his side. I know the moment his brain finally catches up with what his body is conveying to him.
Surprise slashes through the desire on his face. His eyes clear a little, but the green still wars with the silver. I can't look away. And I sense the struggle in him. He wants to close the gap between us, push me against the car, and take me right here. And I want it too. So bad.
"No."
I'm not aware of having spoken aloud. But he hears my refusal to the unspoken question.
Emotions twist across his face: confusion, anger and something else. Sadness. As if his insides are churning as much as mine.
Jace opens his mouth as if to speak, and then seems to think better of it. Then he runs his fingers through his hair, a familiar gesture that tugs at me.
"Not now," I add on a small gasp, trying to soften my voice. I grip my fingers together in front of me, so he doesn't see them shaking.
"What do you mean?" His voice is hoarse.
His hand goes to the front of his pants to adjust himself, and I redden.
"Needed extra space," he mutters.
I almost laugh aloud, shuffling my feet, trying not to cross my legs to cover the wetness inside. I don't want him to see how difficult this is for me.
He pushes his hands into his jeans pocket, looking uncertain.
A first.
I've seen him aroused before, but not like this, not sensing this deep want tearing him apart. And I know then I need to get out of here. Fast.
"You need money for your new venture," I say.
A statement, not a question.
He frowns, expression narrowing. A shutter falls over his face. Leaning back on his heels to put some more distance between us, he nods, the movement a quick jerk.
"I have the money," I say simply.
His gaze sharpens, turns almost predatory. He pauses, and then says, "It's no secret I need the funds, and fast. But why me? Why choose me over those inside?"
He laughs a little as if hearing his own words and unable to recognize himself in them.
It's obvious the turn of events is not lost on him. A month ago, I had no money. And now it's he who needs help. The Valley is a small place, like a village. And the gossip mills here function the same way. Only it also gets reported and spoken about in meeting rooms and in coffee shops, in the farmer's market and at Yoga classes.
Besides, everyone loves the story of a fallen angel, and that's what Jace is, after all. His story goes hand-in-hand with the one of my coming into sudden fortune.
Hell, if it wasn't true, if I hadn't been living this reality, I'd have refused to believe it myself.
I echo his words from our first meeting. "But I'm not going to hand the money over just like that."
I want to gloat but instead all I feel is weariness. A need to move past the anger between us. I'm also very turned on. I want to get my hands on him.
But I can't do it now.
Not yet.
"Oh?"
I nod. "Half a million dollars for sleeping with me. That's not so bad, now is it?”
He inhales sharply, "What is this? A power trip? You're getting back at me for trying to help you out earlier, Sen?"
Hearing him call me by my nickname makes me flinch. He's never called me that before and it affects me in a way I cannot explain to myself.
It also makes me want to lash out at him. "Thanks for your generosity," I say, my voice sharp. "I did return your money though, didn't I?"
He tilts his head, nods. "A gesture much appreciated. You helped me in my time of need, and for that I am grateful."
His voice is soft. And his response confuses me.
"Why aren't you more angry?" I ask. "I'd expected you to rage at me for having walked out like that. Perhaps even—?
"What? Seduce you?"
I redden at that. Yeah. Kind of.
I'd hoped we'd fight and then make up. Sweaty make-up sex with Jace sounds about amazing right now.
"You still don't get it, do you?" His voice is colorless, restrained. He wears an expression of disbelief, as if he's in on a secret I don't know.
I shake my head and slice the air with my hand. "It doesn't matter either way," I say. "I have the money you need. I can invest half a million dollars in your start-up, and once I see returns, the next half. On one condition."
His face loses color. He feels like a pale shadow of himself, going through the motions. As if the essence of him has withdrawn somewhere deep inside.
I know the feeling well.
I can't understand why I'm putting him through this. I can't stop and yet I don't want to hurt him.
I love him.
The realization makes me gasp aloud. I slide my arms around my chest, hugging myself, wanting to hold this new knowledge to myself. I'm not yet ready to share it with him.
Taking a deep breath, I steady myself. Then say before I lose my nerve, "You spend the night with me, and you get the money."
"Are you kidding me?” He explodes. "Have you changed so much that you'd barter sex for money?" He grips my shoulders, gives me a little shake. "Money for sex? Is that what it comes down to, Sienna?"
I stay silent. Swallow down the words of protest that this is not me.
And yet this is also me.
I'm doing this so he realizes how it feels to take advantage of someone's helplessness, to strike a deal they have no choice but to accept.
But I am not going see it through to its logical conclusion.
Even though I feel compelled to get back at him for what he put me through, he'd helped me. And Jace had been a gentleman. He never did take advantage of me, not physically. Nor emotionally.
So I am going to invest in his start-up. In my own time.
"Four Seasons Hotel. Seven PM. Don't be late."
Turning, I get into my car, slamming the door, and drive way.
My eyes dart to the rearview mirror for a last look, but he's already gone.
43
Jace
* * *
After Sienna leaves, Jace spends hours driving around the city, till he finds himself at his usual haunt. The dive bar near The 99.
Walking into the bar, he asks for a whiskey, neat. It's not even noon. But he doesn't care.
Thoughts of being here last with the rest of the group, with Eric, fill his mind, a tug of guilt at not having called his friends since he got back. In the last month, he'd avoided their calls, emails, texts. Refused to even go to the gym.
And he felt guilty about having fought with Eric, and for letting him go. If he had a second chance, he'd handle it differently with Eric, perhaps explain his intentions toward Sienna more clearly. Hell, at the time he and Eric had fought, he hadn't been thinking straight. His feelings for Sienna had been so new.
