MISTAKEN - The Complete First Season

by Peak, Renna

  "Alright, I'll accept that." He tilted his head. "Now, we need to figure out what happened to that package. I should have just brought it to you myself. It's irreplaceable. I can't believe I was stupid enough to think it would be delivered to you."

  "Krystal gave it to me last night. She's been sorting my mail for me, I guess." I gave him a little shrug. "She took the envelope from the flowers, too."

  His eyes flashed with anger and his lips pressed into a line. "Krystal took it? Are you kidding?" He shook his head and looked past my shoulder. "I should have known." His eyes darted around the room; he seemed almost afraid that she might be watching us.

  I looked over my shoulder to see if I had missed anything before looking back at him. My gaze narrowed a bit and I looked at him, trying to slow the rapid movements of his eyes. "You know her?"

  He gave me a small nod, his eyes still darting around the room. He glanced over his shoulder as though someone might be behind him. "Oh, I know her." His fears suddenly gone, he gave my hand a little squeeze and he smiled. "So?"

  My eyebrow lifted in surprise at the suddenness of the change in his mood. "So, what?"

  He squeezed my hand again. "What did you think? Did you like it?"

  My confusion must have shown on my face and I shook my head. "Like what?"

  "You didn't open it, did you?"

  "Oh, the package." I shook my head again. "No, I didn't open anything last night." I reached down for my bag. "I have it with me…"

  "Really?” His eyes sparkled at my statement. “Will you open it for me now? Please?" The look on his face was like a little boy at Christmas. It was almost like he was the one receiving the gift, giddy with excitement.

  I couldn't help but smile. I wanted nothing more than to see him happy, even though I knew somewhere in my heart that this was a short term arrangement. "Okay." I dug into my bag and pulled out the brown box.

  His look of excited pleasure melted my heart. He squeezed my hand before letting it go. He nodded at me and grinned. "Open it."

  I tore through the brown wrapper and found a black velvet jewelry box. I looked up at him. "No note?"

  He narrowed his eyes in mock anger. "I thought you'd know who sent it without a note." He nodded at the box. "Open it. Please?"

  I bit my bottom lip through my smile. I opened the box slowly, and closed my eyes before I could see what was inside of it. I could feel his tension in the air.

  "Open your eyes. Look."

  I looked up at him before I looked down to see what was in the box. His blue eyes bore into mine and I saw his fist clench in front of him in frustration.

  "Jen, look."

  I looked down and gasped. I saw a circle of tiny alternating rose and gold colored diamonds hanging from a delicate silver chain. I touched the small pendant; it was perfect. It was me. I shook my head and handed the box to him, snapping the lid shut. "It's too much, Brandon. I can't accept this."

  "Are you kidding me, Jen? It’s not even close to enough." He stood up and took the box from me, opening it back up and removing the necklace. He stood behind me and fastened the chain around my neck. His touch sent electrical pulses through my skin again, and he seemed to know it. His fingers lingered on my neck, tracing the chain around to my nape as he fastened the jewelry.

  My hand flew to my chest and I covered the pendant with my hand while he finished fastening. His finger traced across my collarbone and down to my hand. He leaned down and brushed his lips against the sensitive skin of my neck. I tilted my head and arched my neck toward him. He responded by kissing me more deeply, sending my heart racing. His lips were still like fire against my skin. I let out a long breath in a sigh.

  There was a knock at the door. Brandon stood straight up and was back in his chair before the promoter entered. The man poked his head through the door. "Still okay in here? Do either of you need anything?"

  My cheeks burned red and I was sure he knew what we were up to in the little office space. I shook my head, refusing to look over at him, my gaze firmly on Brandon. "No, we're fine. Thanks."

  The man nodded. "Just wanted to remind you about your dinner party at eight. You'll want to get this wrapped up shortly, Miss Davis."

  I gave a small nod and he closed the door.

  Brandon lifted an eyebrow in my direction. "Dinner party, huh?"

  I shrugged. "I guess my dad had a meeting or something. They asked me to do a dinner party for some donors."

  I couldn't read the look he gave me. He just stared into my eyes and didn't say anything.

  We sat there for a few moments like that, with only the silence between us. I finally shook my head at him. "This is such a bad idea, Brandon."

  "Run away with me."

  I was taken aback by his words. I furrowed my brow and cocked my head at him, sure I hadn't heard what I thought I had. "What?"

  "I'm serious. Come with me. We can go wherever you want."

  My lips pressed together into a line and I let out the breath I had been holding before I spoke. "I can't do that." If things had been different—even a little different, I would have gone with him in a heartbeat.

  "Why not?" I still was unable to read his expression. It was almost as though he was daring me to betray my father. Just like Mel had done back in San Francisco.

  "Because this is my job now. And I have a duty…"

  "To your father," he interjected. "What about to me?"

  Words could not express the shock I felt at his words. "What do you mean 'what about to you?' You think I have a duty to you?" It came out a little snottier than I expected, but I arched an eyebrow. It was still incredible that he could believe that I owed him something after everything that had happened between the two of us.

  His face fell and the sadness I had seen in his eyes on the morning of my father's campaign announcement returned to his eyes. "No, that wasn't what I meant. You don't, I mean, you don't owe me anything, obviously.”

  "Obviously." I nodded and I felt my face redden, from anger instead of lust this time. Perhaps he had forgotten that he was the one that had put me in this situation? That he had lured me away from my job and back to the fiance I thought was dead for so long?

  "I didn't mean it like that, Jen." He scrunched his eyes closed and rubbed at his temple. "God, I'm awful at this."

  I looked down at the table and my voice lowered again. "Why did you come here, Brandon?"

  "I needed to see you again. I needed for you to see me again." He ran his hand through his black curls and his gaze tore through me like a searing blade. "I can't let you go." He shook his head. "No matter what I do, I can't let you go. I know I have to, but I can’t."

  I raised my eyes to meet his gaze. I thought I might drown in him, like he could see straight into my soul and there was no way out. I couldn't think, I couldn't even breathe when he looked at me like that. "I can't do this," I was finally able to croak out. "You make me insane." It was true. My common sense failed me whenever he was around.

  His lips turned up into a tender smile and his eyes never left mine. "You have no idea what you do to me."

  "I think I have some idea." I stood up from the table. My hand fluttered to the necklace as I felt it against the top of my chest. "Thank you for this. You really shouldn't have." I looked down at the floor, unable to bear meeting his gaze again.

  "I wanted you to have it. Just promise that no matter what happens, you'll think of me when you see it, okay?"

  I nodded and stared down at the floor, my fingers tracing the small circle of stones on the pendant. "I will." Tears stung at my eyes again and I realized that I might never see him again. There was just too much in the way, too much everything. I bit at my upper lip and looked up at him. "I should go." I willed myself not to cry in front of him. I had never before felt anything even close to what I felt for him, but I knew it was wrong. We just weren't meant to be and I needed to admit it to myself.

  The look on his face told me he knew it, too.

  I gulped. "If thi
ngs were different—if my father wasn't running for president…"

  "If you weren't a Hennessey," he interrupted. And there it was, the real reason for everything staring me in the face.

  My gaze locked on his and my stomach dropped to the floor. "If I wasn't a Hennessey," I repeated. How had I never even thought about it before? How had I spent my whole life so sheltered that I'd never even realized that it mattered? It seemed to mean a lot to everyone else, including him, and I'd never even seen it.

  He gave me a knowing nod and motioned toward the door. The sadness that covered his face shattered my heart into tiny pieces. I would never be the same. And I'd never be able to have him.

  I walked to the door without a word and opened it, averting my eyes. I knew if my gaze met his I'd never be able to leave. That I'd never be able to let him leave me. My guard and the promoter were waiting just outside for me and ushered me down the short flight of stairs outside. I glanced over my shoulder to see if Brandon was following, praying that he would.

  But he wasn't there. He was gone.

  11

  I was hurried over to a parking lot where a town car was waiting instead of the campaign bus. It seemed that Will wasn't invited to the donor dinner after all; it was a high dollar affair that was meant to raise money for my father's campaign and not for Will's. Just as I wondered if I was under dressed, the promoter handed me a garment bag and pointed me to another small building that doubled as a dressing room, just inside the back parking lot. I wondered how he had come to take over the responsibilities that should have been my assistant's, then remembered how "busy" my assistant was with my fiance. I put the thought out of my mind and dressed in the black cocktail dress, complete with black heels that would have made Mel insane with jealousy.

  Mel. I hadn't had time to even think of her in the past week. I freshened my makeup, damaged from my recent romp with Brandon, then walked the short distance through the dusty parking lot to the waiting car.

  The promoter didn't follow and the car took off with my guard and I in tow. I knew I had at least an hour long drive ahead of me and I pulled out my phone. I kept my voice low and hoped that the guard in the front seat wasn't prone to eavesdropping. Not that it mattered, if I was being honest about it. Who was he going to tell? The smell of the dust made me sneeze and my eyes began to water again.

  I dialed Mel's number and she picked up on the first ring.

  "Hey, sexy. I was just thinking about you. Long time, no talk."

  I grinned. I had missed hearing her voice and how she always knew how to get me to laugh. "How are things, Mel?" I swiped at the tears that had formed in my eyes from the dust.

  "You'd love it here. You should totally ditch that whole campaign bullshit and come be a roadie with me."

  I sighed. "I'd love to. I would. Where are you, anyway?"

  "Portland. It is fucking beautiful here, Jenna. And not too hot. You'd love it, seriously. I think we're only here for another week or two, though, then we're going up to Seattle. I've heard it's beautiful up there, too."

  "I'm sure it is. How are things with Jay?"

  "Eh. It's fine. He's not my soul mate or anything, but we're having fun."

  I smiled into the phone. "I'm so glad. So happy for you."

  "Yeah, it's fun for now. And who knows?" She paused for a moment. "How are things with 'roid boy?"

  I giggled a little. "Fine, if you don't count him fucking my assistant."

  "Jesus Christ." She paused. "Not that I should be surprised or anything, but for fuck's sake…" She paused for a moment, her thoughts trailing off. "Have you heard from the other one?"

  My face fell and I knew things were about to get serious. "Which one?"

  "No fucking way. You heard from both?"

  "Yeah. Daniel sent a ton of flowers. And Brandon…" My voice drifted off as I thought about what we had just done against the wall in the little office.

  "Oh, Christ, you saw him, didn't you?"

  I bit my upper lip. I had no idea how she was able to see right through me, even through the phone. "Yeah."

  "And?"

  "And what? He gave me a necklace. I think it’s antique.” I pulled at the pendant and tried to look down at it. The chain was just a little too short to give me a decent view while it was attached to my neck.

  "Shit, Jenna. What are you going to do if your dad catches on that you're seeing him again? Didn't he forbid it?"

  I closed my eyes for a moment before opening them to look out the window at the passing fields of corn. "My dad doesn't run my love life."

  "Uh, right. Then what the fuck are you doing there with Mister Fucked-up-on-steroids?"

  She was right. She was always right. I sat there in a stupid, stunned silence for several moments.

  "And you know you need to do something about Daniel, right? You can't just leave the boy hanging. You need to end it. Break it off clean. Rip off the Band-Aid. You can't let him even think there's a glimmer of hope."

  "Why isn't there a glimmer of hope, Mel? I loved him once. He was perfect."

  I heard her groan into the phone. "He wasn't perfect, Jenna. We both know that. You've memorialized him into something he never was."

  I had to think about that for a moment. Had my mind made him into something he never was? Things hadn't always been perfect between us, but he was always… safe. He was safe. Not reckless or thoughtless or any of the other million things that Brandon was. He also didn't make me feel even a tiny fraction of what Brandon made me feel. "Maybe you're right, Mel. But what am I supposed to do? Go back to Japan to tell him?"

  She groaned again. "You can be so thick skulled, sometimes, Jenna Davis. Have you heard of a telephone? Or a computer? You know they have that fancy shmancy Skype thing now, right? So CALL HIM."

  "I can't just call him. I don't even know what I'd say."

  "Jenna, Jesus fucking Christ. Say, 'Thanks for the flowers, man. Now leave me the fuck alone.' Or some variation on that theme. Tell him you're in love with what's-his-face."

  Shit. She was right. I was in love with what's-his-face, and I couldn't even admit it to myself, not that there was any future with him, but still. I covered my eyes with one hand. "I can't tell him that. I can't break his heart."

  "The way he broke yours by letting you think he was dead? Stop being so nice and polite for once, damn it. He hasn't been very nice to you."

  I knew she was right. I knew it in my brain, but my heart wasn't cooperating. Or maybe it was the other way around. "So I just say, 'Sorry. I don't want to see you anymore?'"

  She let out an enraged sigh. "Yes, exactly!"

  I blew out my breath in a long sigh. I just wasn't sure I would be able to do it. I didn't know if I could even stand to hear his voice. "I'll try."

  "Good girl. Do it right now, while you have the balls I just handed to you."

  "I can't now. I'm in the back of a car on the way to a fancy donor dinner. I'll have to do it tonight."

  I could hear the exasperation in her voice. "You have to do it tonight, Jenna. A clean break. It has to be done. No ifs, ands or buts. Got it?"

  "Yes, I've got it. I just don't know if I can…" My voice trailed off and I looked back out the window. There was something beautiful about the way the setting sunlight danced off the endless rows of corn.

  "Jenna, you have to. I mean it, you have to. It's hard enough having a love triangle, but now you have a… what? A rectangle? Three guys, for fuck's sake."

  I cut her off. "There aren't three guys. Will is only interested in one thing, and it doesn't seem to matter who he's with. It certainly isn't me."

  "Yeah, so you'll be Bill and Hillary if you actually do get married. Are you really going to let that happen? That's the life you want? You want to be with a man you don't love for some political gain for your father?"

  "I'm not marrying him. I'll deal with the aftermath later. Right now I'm worried about this stupid straw poll and getting done with the Iowa thing. That's what's important to my dad."
<
br />   "And your marriage to 'roid rage is important to your mom. Probably your dad, too. I can tell you right now, whatever it is she's planning is going to be an over the top affair. You need to end it fast and not piss her off, either."

  "Well, that's not possible. She's perpetually pissed at me. Nothing I can do about that."

  "Yeah, yeah. You ruined her body twenty-three years ago. Whatever. She's going to freak the fuck out if they lay out all that cash and you go all Runaway Bride at the altar."

  "It won't get that far. I promise."

  She went silent for a long moment. "God, how did you get here, Jenna? How did your life get so mucked up so fast?"

  My voice quieted. "I don't know." It had been fast. If I'd only not gone to that painting class, I never would have met Brandon. The rest of it might have happened, but there wouldn't be him. God, there wouldn't be him. I couldn't even imagine how I was going to live my life without him.

  She remained silent again for a few moments. "What do you want, Jenna doll? Do you even know?"

  I hadn't allowed myself to even think about it much. So many decisions were made for me all the time. In the quiet moments, I did know what I wanted for myself. I just didn't want to admit it. The faint soreness that remained between my legs reminded me and thinking about him still set my heart ablaze. I knew exactly what I wanted. There was no question about it. "I want Brandon."

  "Then, damn it, you go after him. Tell him you love him."

  "I can't do that, Mel. He'd run for the hills."

  "Then you clear the way so he can come to you. Get rid of the other losers and make it impossible for him not to come to you."

  I bit my upper lip and thought about it. It seemed rational, but it wasn't that simple. "I can't disappoint my dad."

  She let out a long sigh. "Fuck, Jenna."

  I let out a sigh of my own. "I know."

  12

  The dinner party was a smashing success. It was held in a ranch house outside of Des Moines by an older couple, Owen and Clara Jones. They were gracious hosts, and no one at the party seemed to mind at all that I had needed to step in for my father. We raised a lot of money for my father's campaign with no complaints at all that he wasn't there to accept it. People seemed to want to be around me. I knew on some level it was the Hennessey thing, the thing I had never thought about. It was hard for me to believe that people wanted to be around me for me. Not for my father. For me. I was something I hadn't ever experienced, or at least hadn’t allowed myself to experience.