Prove Me Wrong

by Gemma Hart

  As I finished putting the last of the nails back into the crate and settling Alex in his office with a cup of coffee, I heard the front door bell ring.

  Finally! I thought grinning. Mr. Lazybones had decided to grace us after all.

  I tried not to run towards the front counter but found myself still moving in a fast powerwalk, eager to see him.

  But as I walked down the side aisle of power tools, I slowed down, realizing it wasn’t Jonah at all.

  The customer had his back towards me but I could tell from his physique that he was a tall, broad man. But definitely not a local. Or even anyone from a neighboring town.

  He wore a sleekly tailored black suit that hugged his body in a masculine way, outlining the breadth of his back. The long legs were clad in the same expensive material, all ending with a pair of polished black shoes that nearly glowed in the store’s soft light.

  I irrationally thought of the board game Monopoly. The man looked so richly tailored that all I could see was dollar signs. He was clearly a wealthy man. What was he doing here?

  I was about to call out, asking if I could help him when I heard a woman’s voice murmur from his side. I skipped a step before cautiously continuing towards the front. Who were this unknown man and woman?

  “…you could’ve just bought a new one,” I heard the woman sniff in a clear and elegant voice that spoke of born entitlement. “I don’t know why you insist on tracking this one down.”

  I finally rounded the corner and said in my normal cheery customer greeting, “Hello! Can I help you with—”

  My words stuck to my throat before I could finish my question.

  Standing in front of me was Jonah.

  And yet…it wasn’t Jonah at all.

  I had never seen him this polished looking. He looked like a gleaming piece of obsidian, hard and black.

  Standing tall, he wore the tailored black suit like a second skin. When I had met him, he had been wearing a black leather jacket and jeans and while they had been clearly expensive clothes, they were still casual and rough.

  But in this suit, Jonah looked like god himself. Every aura of power and authority that surrounded him was magnified. The crispness of the white shirt highlighted the bronze of his taut skin. The black stubble looked even blacker against the white.

  He looked taller, broader, bigger, and just more…powerful.

  He was almost unrecognizable.

  I stood, mouth agape, as I stared at him.

  But it wasn’t the suit or the slicked back hair that made him unrecognizable. It was his eyes.

  The dark eyes looked at me with a cold unfamiliarity that made me almost shiver in response. After days of having me tucked in his embrace, feeling his cock drive passionately into me, and his lips roughly kissing mine, seeing his look of cold dispassion made me take a step back.

  The awkward cool pause between us was broken by a frustrated sigh.

  I looked over Jonah’s shoulder and saw a tall woman standing next to him. With short sleek black hair and sharp cheekbones, she looked like a French supermodel. Wearing a fitted cream dress that showed off her lean arms and ungodly long legs, she raised a thin brow at me.

  “Hello,” she said in the shortest, most curt voice I had ever heard. The word sounded less like a greeting in her voice and more like a demeaning call. “My fiancé left his phone here apparently. Do you happen to know if you have it?”

  I swallowed hard, feeling the world swim around me. My eyes immediately darted up towards Jonah but all I was greeted with was that same cool look.

  “Fiancé?” I croaked, my heart shattering like a cracked mirror. I could feel each fracture worming their way through my heart. It was then that I noticed Jonah’s arm around the woman’s waist, holding her close and familiarly. It made my throat clamp up to see it.

  I remembered how it felt to be held like that. By him.

  The woman looked at me impatiently. “Yes,” she said. She made a small gesture towards Jonah. “I’m sure you must remember if someone like Jonah Lowell makes it into a store like this.” She gave the small place a disdainful look over.

  Oxygen seemed to be leaking out of my lungs, leaving me breathless.

  “Lowell?” I whispered. But…he wasn’t. He wasn’t Jonah Lowell. He was Jonah Lawrence. He was my Jonah.

  The woman raised a brow in surprise. “Surely, this place can’t be so out of touch that you wouldn’t know who Jonah Lowell is?”

  Of course I knew Jonah Lowell. At least by name. He was the supposed billionaire playboy who ran the streets of New York like his personal harem.

  Icy water slid through me as realization sank in. I looked up at Jonah, unwilling to accept the truth but unable to deny it.

  So that was the mysterious stranger’s hometown. He had come in from New York.

  Was that all I had been? Another conquest to make? New York wasn’t enough? He had to come find me in my small corner of the world to seduce me for some extra kicks?

  “Lowell,” I said softly under my breath. “You’re Jonah Lowell.”

  Jonah’s lips curled into a faint smile as his gaze turned icy. “It’s a rare person who doesn’t recognize me instantly. It’s been a humbling experience, I’d have to say,” he said, his voice deep and familiar and yet so cold and cruel.

  The woman next to him sighed, exasperated. “There’s nothing humbling about that!” she snapped. “It just shows absolute ignorance of a person if they don’t recognize the Lowell name.” She turned to me, clearly not bothered by having just rudely insulted me to my face. “Now, do you or do you not have his phone?”

  Moving as if through the bottom of the sea, I reached behind the register and pulled out of the thin black phone. The woman immediately snapped it up.

  “Finally,” she said, phone in hand. “Now we can get out of here.” She turned her head up towards Jonah, her gaze immediately softening and her lips turning into a seductive pout. “The helicopter is ready. We should get going.”

  Jonah looked down at her and gave her a smile that could melt stone. And I ached so keenly seeing it. “Let’s go then,” he said. “It’s been more than enough time for me to get back to the city.”

  And without another backwards glance, the two exited the store in a whiff of money and expensive perfume.

  I gazed at the door in stunned silence, unable to process what had just happened.

  That couldn’t have been real.

  I had literally just left Jonah in bed this morning. My skin still burned from his touch last night. Hadn’t it just been hours since I had felt him inside me, deep and hard?

  A dull thud snapped me out of my stupor.

  Through the glass in the door, I could see the morning paper had been delivered. Moving like a robot, I walked towards the door but didn’t open it. Peering through the glass, I could make out the inky headline.

  Playboy Billionaire Jonah Lowell Finally Nabbed By New York Socialite Vanessa Winters. Engaged and Planning Their Wedding!

  Below the headline was an older picture of the two exiting some kind of private gala event, arm in arm with that matching look of urban elegance.

  They looked so right together, so perfect, I almost wanted to throw up. What the hell had the last few weeks been? Some kind of getaway for him? Had I just been a distraction from the normal New York conquests?

  I swallowed harshly, tears stinging my eyes. Had my heart been that trivial to him?

  I heard a distant shuffling behind me.

  “Who was that?” Alex asked in confusion.

  I didn’t bother turning around. I could hardly tear my eyes away from the photo of Jonah. The man I thought I had known. That I thought I had even loved.

  “Nobody,” I said softly. “It was nobody.”

  Chapter Seven

  Clara

  One Year Later

  “Okay, and remember, if anyone asks, you want to just say that we’re already in talks with Bergdorf,” Brenda said as she walked with me down to the lo
bby. “I’ll handle the rest.”

  “But that makes it sound like I’m already signing with them or something,” I protested, hitting the elevator button for the lobby floor.

  Brenda gave me a frustrated look as she adjusted her glasses. I grinned seeing it. She had become one of my closest friends in the last year and I enjoyed seeing her emotional passion for her job and for my work.

  “Well that’s their problem if they take it that way,” she said, rolling her eyes at me. “Plus, we are talking with them and I have a good feeling we’ll be getting an order from them soon. But Losel Goods has a far bigger reach and they can get us into department stores across the country. This is our big shot, C!”

  Brenda grasped my hands and squeezed. I squeezed back, feeling every ounce of her energy and adrenaline.

  The elevator dinged open at the lobby. The large marbled floor was bustling with activity. We walked to the front doors with our hands squeezed together.

  I looked at her, smoothing down my dusty pink skirt and white blouse. “Do I….” I started, before biting my lip. This was the first time I’d be meeting with huge buyers. Thank god I’d have someone experienced like Brenda on my side but it didn’t mean I wasn’t still nervous. “Do I look okay?”

  Brenda squeezed my hand, her blue eyes sparkling warmly at me. “You look amazing, C,” she said confidently. “You’re as gorgeous as your furniture and that is saying something!”

  I laughed, touched and encouraged. I gave her a little nod.

  She grinned.

  “Don’t worry, babe,” she said, winking at me. “We’re gonna knock ‘em dead!”

  And together, we walked out onto 57th Street.

  ***

  As we walked down the busy street, I thanked the stars above again for how lucky I was to have someone like Brenda Carlisle by my side.

  A year ago, I had been receiving some modest attention for my furniture pieces from some respectable buyers but no one huge. And no one was putting in any significant orders, just a few pieces here and there.

  Then out of the blue, I got a call from a secretary asking if a Brenda Carlisle could call me later that night from Carlisle & Ellis. I had never heard of the company but was told that Ms. Carlisle was extremely interested in discussing my furniture with me.

  I had agreed to the call.

  Hours later, I found myself laughing and joking with a woman I had never met as if we were old friends. Brenda founded and operated the small but respectable offices of Carlisle & Ellis, a company that essentially worked as agents for designer and crafters.

  Brenda had seen my work and had fallen in love with it. She wanted me to fly into New York as quickly as possible so I could discuss with her my options.

  “Which are limitless, let me tell you,” she had said enthusiastically on the phone. “Your work is just stunning. I can tell already we’re going to have to fight off the buyers that’ll be climbing the walls for your stuff!”

  Before I knew it, I was in a sleek and modern office in New York, signing on with Brenda to work as my agent. It was all a surreal rush. I never would’ve imagined such a boon to come out of nowhere.

  “How did you hear of my work?” I had asked after doing all the paperwork in her office.

  Brenda smiled and made a small gesture with her hands. “Oh I saw one of those catalogues you had made. Gorgeously shot, by the way,” she said.

  I furrowed my brows. I was pretty sure I remembered all the people I had sent those catalogues to. They had been expensive to print so I had only made a few dozen and had carefully selected the recipients. Carlisle & Ellis had not been one of them.

  But perhaps someone had passed a catalogue on. And in any case, I had no cause for complaint.

  I had researched Carlisle & Ellis’s roster. Though they had a small client list, they were quite successful. I knew I was in good hands.

  And all of this was a welcomed distraction from the embarrassment and heartache I had suffered at the hands of Jonah Lowell.

  Jonah hadn’t just walked into my life. He had walked into my town. We had been seen all over the place together. Everyone from the diner to the hardware store to my next door neighbor had seen us together, happy as a pair could be.

  Or so I had thought.

  Clearly, I had been the delusional one here. Jonah Lowell had only been in it for the amusement.

  So when he had disappeared with the intimidatingly beautiful Vanessa Winters, I had been left with a scattered mess of awkward questions and pitying looks.

  I hadn’t wanted to reveal Jonah’s true identity to them. If most people hadn’t recognized him for who he truly was, then why add more salt to my wound? I didn’t want to look more pathetic—the delusional small town girl who thought she could win the big bad city boy. God, that was so much worse. It wasn’t true of course. I hadn’t known who he really was. But once everyone found out about Jonah’s real name, that’s what everyone would think.

  I had instead settled myself for telling everyone that Jonah and I had decided to amicably part ways.

  But there was no hiding the hurt in my face. Tears seemed to constantly be hanging on my lashes for weeks on end and I could see the looks of pity on people’s faces that said that nobody believed my story for a minute.

  The hardest part was to go back home. To my bed.

  I had not only opened my heart but my home to Jonah. And now every crevice of it was peppered with bitter memories of him. In the kitchen, I remembered cooking him breakfast and him thanking me by bending me over the kitchen counter, making me come so hard my cries echoed through the room.

  In the living room, I remembered all those cozy nights we had snuggled up on the couch, talking over the day’s events as we let our hands constantly roam over each other’s bodies, unable to sate our hunger for each other. I had loved feeling his hands run down my body, squeezing me gently against him.

  And then in my bedroom….

  It had been so hard to sleep in my bed again after he had left. It felt unusually large and so very cold. I was heartbroken and sad but also felt foolish and stupid to be mourning a man who clearly hadn’t cared for me at all.

  I knew I was wasting my tears on him and yet I couldn’t help but long to feel him hold me once more, to have his lips against mine, and to feel his rough stubble brush against my cheeks.

  So finding myself in New York with Brenda on my side, I felt totally ready to push my heartbreak behind me and revitalize my focus on my career.

  And in the following months, I had had the most successful year to date for my business. I was getting respectable stores in New York buying my pieces. Brenda eventually found me a small but well furnished apartment to sublease in the East Village because of how much time I now spent in the city.

  I was gaining a formidable reputation and I was thriving.

  But I was in New York. And New York was Jonah Lowell’s city.

  My heart had felt like someone had punched it when I had sat down at my first coffee shop in New York and had immediately seen a magazine with Jonah’s dark profile captured on the cover. The man was everywhere. He was New York.

  But I had put my coffee cup squarely over his face, covering it.

  Once in the city, I heard more about Jonah Lowell’s incredible history with women. Apparently he was not only a ruthless businessman but a ruthless playboy as well. There were multiple accounts of him dating several women at once, with none of them knowing about the other woman. And all of them had been high ranking models or celebrated actresses.

  But despite the humiliation this caused a lot of the women in the press, they were still fighting for Jonah’s attentions. They were hooked.

  I could relate.

  He had absolutely no qualms about leaving one top Brazilian model for another. The list of women he had loved and left was probably as high as the Chrysler building.

  No wonder he had clearly forgotten about me without any problems. From the moment he had walked out of Mackleson’s, I
had never heard from him again. No calls, no emails, no letters—if people even still wrote letters.

  And since he had forgotten about me, there was no reason why I shouldn’t do the same.

  I had thrown myself wholeheartedly into work and had seen the fruits of my labor pay off beautifully.

  Just as it was now, with me walking the few streets down to 63rd Street where the lovely Aarons Building stood. It was a beautiful glass and steel building that often held illustrious art exhibitions, international galas, and exclusive bruncheons for visiting dignitaries.

  Today though, it was holding a small cocktail gathering of new, up and coming designers and crafters who were quickly rising in popularity and interest for the bigger buyers.

  Losel Goods, one of the foremost luxury goods buyers in the country, would be present today. Every designer and crafter would die to have their pieces bought by them.

  And perhaps, today would be my chance.

  The top rated and raved designers and crafters would be at this event and I couldn’t believe I was included in the roster. Some of them came alone, dealing both as a designer and a businessperson. Others came with their representing agents or managers. That was me. I needed Brenda here with me. She gave me the confidence to believe I deserved this attention as much as the next man.

  Standing just outside the gleaming doors of the building, I took in a deep breath as cars and people rushed behind me. The city was a fast paced mistress and was very unforgiving to those who could not adapt.

  I looked down at my skirt, smoothing it down again. I had taken extra care to dress up for the event. Instead of my normal jeans and sweatshirt, I had tried to look like a successful furniture maker, whatever that looked like.

  I glanced over at Brenda who had a small smile curling up at the corner of her lips. She wasn’t so jaded in the business to be completely calm. She was still excited and thrilled to be representing new designers. But she couldn’t help but be a little amused at my nervousness. I could see that.

  She gave my hand a squeeze. I smiled.