Jack saved Reese from coming up with an explanation to Miranda's question when he began speaking.
"Thank you all for coming," he said, his eyes looking just above the occupants in the room. “I guess I should start off by wishing everyone a happy New Year’s.” He slid his hands in his pockets and easily plastered on his charming smile, tossing it around the room. At his opening statement, many people clapped and cheered, and a few women in the back reciprocated the sentiment. “New Year’s …” He let his voice trail off as he looked at the faces—blurs to him. “New Year’s never really had much significance for me when I was a child,” he confessed in a sure voice. “After my parents died, so did my childlike naivety concerning New Year’s magic. I used to dread waking up in the morning and knowing that they wouldn’t be waiting for me downstairs. I have my Aunt Beverly to thank for forcing me out of bed every January first. When I was in college, I chose to remain in my dorms rather than head back to an empty house, but even so, she didn’t forget me. After I graduated and took over the company, I chose to hold a New Year’s party every year in hopes to raise money that would provide children’s hospitals with the kind of magical New Year’s I lacked as a child, and while I am told over and over again by you people how admirable it is, it was a selfish act. See, the thing is,” and here he paused, chuckling, although without the usual amusement that went along with the gesture, “I thought if I did things for other people, the media and the upper class would stop feeling sorry for poor Jack Phillip who had to grow up without parents and spend New Year’s with his aunt.
“Miranda … Miranda, where are you?”
Miranda raised her hand, her pale skin slightly flushed. Many of the guests began to turn to her, and actually parted so Jack could better see her, Reese, and Andie. It would seem the boisterous assistant didn’t enjoy the limelight.
“Miranda, here, has been with me for a very long time,” Jack announced, causing Miranda to blush more profusely. “She is and has been the coordinator for this party since the year she joined. Not one of you people has ever inquired who designed everything, who put this all together.
“As a child, I hastily ignored anything that had to do with magic because, to me, there was no such thing. You people would rather believe in magic than hear that somebody not born to your class or your status created something you admire. We’re both on two opposite sides of the spectrum when we should be meeting in the middle. For chrissake, we don’t even have this party at the hospital, with the children, because you people can’t stand seeing sick kids. Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they don’t exist. You all feel sorry for me?” He quirked his brow up in disbelief and shook his head. “I feel sorry for each and every one of you. I can’t even call you naïve, because you know people are suffering out in the world yet you choose to ignore them.”
"Guys," Andie whispered so as to not be overheard by the shushing geezers in front of them. "I honestly thought I could do this, but I really can't. I think I'm going to take a cab and go back to Carey's. I can't be here right now. I'm sorry."
"Andie," Reese said in a low voice.
"I got her." Miranda turned on her heel and followed Andie around the perimeter of the room, not giving much care to make her movements quiet.
Reese glanced back up at Jack, and unless her eyes were deceiving her, realized he had noticed Andie's departure as well. It even caused him to falter in regards to his speech.
Huh.
Reese wondered if Andie knew what kind of effect she had on Onyx's most stoic bachelor.
“There’s this girl I’m pretty crazy about. When she sees people, she sees faces, not groups. She talks to individuals, not clusters. She makes you feel warm and special and good. She makes me want to be a better person. She made me realize I wasn’t good. She’s my magic. If she were still here, there would be at least three people at this party for the right reason. But I’m not one of them, and neither are any of you.
“So Happy New Year’s. Enjoy the free food, the free booze, and the dance floor. Gossip, drink, and do whatever to make you feel good about yourself. New Year’s is more than just about giving and receiving. New Year’s is about spending time with the people you care about. So, no, while I don’t have my parents, I have Beverly, who looked after me when you all turned your backs. Tragedy isn’t your forte, but pretending is. And I used to be just like you. But this woman opened up my eyes to you, and to myself. And she’s the only person I want to spend New Year’s with, so I’m going to leave now.”
And with that, Jack casually exited the ballroom in the same way Andie had.
The room was completely silent. Reese could hear the shock reverberating off the walls around the room. Before she could stop herself, she started laughing. It wasn’t as though she intended to be completely inappropriate at the wrong time, but awkward silences made her tense and her body reacted by laughing in order to ease the tension. She couldn’t help it. It did encourage her to get the eff out of there, though.
Not only that, but she wanted to crawl into bed. She was seventeen, it wasn't even midnight, and Reese was already exhausted. This was a result of thinking too much, and honestly, she needed to stop it. If she had been smart, she would have followed Andie out of the room. Miranda had texted her before the speech was even over to tell her that she was essentially on her own due to her taking Andie back to Carey's place and no doubt staying with Andie until she felt better. Reese sighed. This was what Mom meant when she handed her a fifty dollar bill saying, "There are always emergencies, sweetie. Let's hope yours turns out to be a fun one."
It would appear her emergency would be taking a cab home, since her pretend boyfriend wasn't even here to escort her home himself. She sighed once again. Well, she had dealt with worse.
After picking up her jacket from the coat check, she headed down the vacant, narrow hall that led to the grand staircase. Before she reached the plateau, a familiar voice caused her to stop.
"Going somewhere, darl?"
The Irish-Australian accent caused her heart to speed up and she had to tense every muscle in her body to keep from dashing over to the library, where his solid frame was leaning against the doorway. His rain-blue, mud-brown eyes sparkled as he looked at her and his lips were curled into this weird smile-smirk, causing a deadly weapon in the form of a dimple to pop in his cheeks.
"Hello," he said.
She managed to keep a brilliant smile from touching her face because there was no reason her smile needed to be so big. It was only Ollo. It wasn't like he was her real boyfriend or anything.
"Nice of you to grace us with your presence," she commented when she was standing directly in front of him.
"Yes, well, it is a charity event," he replied.
"You do realize the party started hours ago, right?" She tilted her head and gave him a look.
His smile-smirk only deepened. "Beggars can't be choosers," he said and chuckled at his joke.
Reese rolled his eyes. "You're terrible," she muttered.
"You like it."
She didn’t even bother to respond.
"You've packed?"
Reese furrowed her brow at his question, unsure what he meant by that, exactly.
He gave her a dry stare. "For the trip?" he tried again. "To Onyx National Park? Camping?" With each question, his voice grew more and more agitated.
Reese had to hold back another an amused bout of laughter. "Now I remember," she said with a dismissing wave of her hand. She liked to rile him up, especially about this camping trip he had planned himself. Which was a big deal, considering Ollo didn't plan on what he was wearing until he saw a particular set of clothes that caught his eye and picked them up off his floor.
If Reese was being honest, she was a tad excited at the prospect of camping with Ollo. Which was saying a lot, considering she didn't understand why people chose to pay exuberant amounts of money to sleep on the ground in a flimsy little shelter they called a tent under the sky in any kind
of weather when there were hotels just down the street. There was something about the way Ollo looked when he spoke about this camping trip; a youthful glint would light up his oddly-colored eyes and the grin on his face would be so boyish that the butterflies she hadn't felt since seventh grade suddenly came out of hibernation. It was weird and beautiful at the same time.
"You know, for a girl who tends to remember everything—and I mean everything—I find it strange you can't seem to remember a camping trip we've been planning since the Sunday after Thanksgiving."
"And I find it strange that for a guy who can't remember things I’ve told him five minutes before somehow remembers what day we started planning this thing." Her lip tilted up. "So it is possible."
"Of course it is," he replied with a decidedly masculine smirk. "Sometimes I choose to forget things."
"You're an ass."
"You love my ass."
"What is wrong with you?"
"Well, at least I don't start laughing in pitch silence after a very serious speech." He raised his brow, looking down at her over his nose.
Before she could stop herself, she winced. "You heard that, did you?" The tips of her cheeks turned pink and she glanced away, down the hall. It was still empty, save for the random passerby on his phone, who didn't even noticed Reese and Ollo so their conversation was still private.
"How could I not have heard it?" he asked. "You have this really loud, really distinctive laughter. It's both pretentious and obnoxious, so it sounds fake."
"Okay, are we done?" She put her hands back on her hips and gave him a level stare. "Listen, there's something I need to talk to you about."
"About how you've already packed and understand we're leaving early tomorrow morning, hmm?" His lips pushed out into a grin.
"Who's Daphne?"
Reese had to admit that perhaps her phrasing of the question was rather blunt and sounded suspiciously like a girl confronting her boyfriend about a possible mistress. However, Ollo was in one of his many smartass moods where sometimes, the only way to break through his onslaught of ready, witty retorts was to try and throw him off with a direct hit. It seemed to have worked because whatever he was about to say died on the tip of his tongue. She would have given herself credit for throwing him off if his eyes hadn't clouded, which she knew meant his guard was up for some reason.
"Who?" he asked.
He was lying. She knew he was lying, but he hadn't given her any clue as to why or how he knew her and in what capacity. Jack's party wasn't an appropriate venue to call him out on it either, even though she wanted to. She wanted to know who Daphne was and how he knew her and, most importantly, how she knew about Reese. But she wouldn't ask. Not now. Maybe he really didn't know about her and the woman was just some psycho.
"Now, you know what to pack for this trip, right?" he continued, as though he had already forgotten her question, as though she hadn't asked one at all.
And she'd let him. It wasn't worth fighting over. And she hoped it never would be.
6
Andie managed to make it to the restroom before the first tear rolled down her face. She hated crying. Hated it. Especially when she knew she could make all of her pain disappear if she put aside this feeling of righteousness and just give in to her desires of wanting to be with Jack. It wouldn't be that hard. Sure, maybe the dating scene would be a tad less traditional since he was always in the tabloids and the paparazzi would constantly put their relationship under the microscope. She would have to learn how to curb her jealousy when she saw beautiful women, more beautiful than she could ever hope to be, dangle themselves in front of Jack. She would have to understand that Jack had a duty to the city of Onyx and that would always come first, even over her, and she would have to accept that since she knew this before getting into this hypothetical relationship what Jack really was. Was Jack worth all of that complicated stress?
Of course he was.
Certainly, it would be harder going through everything than it would be listing it in her mind. She wouldn't be able to talk to anyone about what she was going through, considering she would die before she revealed his secret. That, and she didn't know anyone who had actually dated someone in the public eye. It would be a lonely life, dealing with Jack leaving at any moment of every day, dealing with rumors about her and them as a couple being so highly publicized that she wouldn't be able to walk down the street without someone feeling compelled to give her their opinion on the matter, dealing with theories of cheating, strip clubs, weddings, and babies, and not being taken seriously. It didn't matter how good her grades were or what college she got into; she had a pretty face, big boobs, and Jack Phillip as a boyfriend. There was no way people would give her any credit she earned on her own. And then, of course, the fact that everyone and their mother would consider her a gold digger.
There were so many reasons not to be with Jack, she was starting to lose count of them all. There was only one reason why she should be with him, and that seemed to drown out all the negative ones: she loved him and everything she knew she had to go through and everything she didn't know she had to go through would be worth it because she would be with him. No one would be able to give Jack what he needed; no one would be able to love, support, and understand him the way she knew she could. The way she knew she did.
She stood in the stall, trying to carefully wipe away the tears slowly falling down her face with expensive, soft toilet paper, hoping nobody would come in. She needed to get out of there. She needed to be away from him, especially after that speech she couldn't stay all the way through for.
Okay, you're going to give yourself five more minutes and that's it. You're in public. Pull yourself together, okay? You're stronger than this.
It took her four minutes and thirty-two seconds before she felt she could leave the stall. She had to fix her face, her makeup, her hair. If she had eye drops, she would have used them to get rid of the red in her eyes. She took a deep breath, and then another, and then another. She couldn't smile, not yet, but she rolled her shoulders back, tilted her chin up, and looked her reflection in the eye. She could walk out of that place with her head held high, even if it was obvious she had been recently crying.
One more breath, and she walked out the door. The hallway was still empty, which meant Jack was still giving his speech. She was almost at the valet when a voice stopped her.
"Ms. Andrea Shepherd."
She stopped and turned, and was met with a pair of icy blue eyes on a face as chiseled as the statue of David. He bleached his hair blond—which was weird, but somehow made it work—and he was hugged by an expensive suit that fit him to a tee. He was nothing short of stunning. Like, stunning.
"Um, I actually go by Andie." She wasn't sure why she was nervous, but she was. Gorgeous guys rarely stopped to talk to her on the street, unless of course she was physically bumping into them.
The corner of his lip tilted up, but he wasn't smiling. "Andie," he agreed in a low vice.
"Can I help you?" she asked. She was so close to the valet, and it was another freezing Onyx winter night. She wanted to get to her car, go back to Carey's place, and crash. She wanted to get away from these people, from this house, from him. "I'm kind of in a rush."
"A pretty girl like you?" He looked like he didn't believe her and that made her stomach flutter with nerves. Who was this guy that had the audacity to call her pretty? Was he a reporter who somehow knew who she was? She wouldn't be surprised. "I'm Grayson Pierce."
Okay, scratch that last part. She was most definitely surprised. This was her supervisor. This was the guy she'd be reporting to during her internship at Eagle Corp. This Greek god. And he just called her pretty. Her, Andrea Shepherd. He thought she was pretty.
What is happening here? Is that even professional? Does it even matter when he has a face like that?
"Are you serious?"
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She hadn't meant to sound so annoyed, but she couldn'
t help that either.
It would appear that Andie had thrown him off guard since he blinked those blue eyes once before giving her a level stare. She should feel flattered she was able to do that to him, she supposed.
"The last time I checked, yes."
Jeesh, And, you really have a knack for first impressions, don't you?
The thing was, Grayson Pierce was nothing when compared to Jack Phillip. And yet, she couldn't help the way her body reacted to a guy as hot as him talking to her. And somehow, this hot guy was going to be her supervisor. Within the next couple of days. It was like being madly and completely in love with Christian Bale and having Johnny Depp as a boss; her feelings for Jack were genuine and untouchable, but if a guy like Grayson was in charge of her, it would be more than a little difficult to concentrate. She had better learn how to talk to him now in hopes that it would save her from some very embarrassing one-sided conversations. And by conversation, she meant that he would do most of the talking and she would gurgle and nod her head.
"So where are you going?" he asked in his slick voice. His lips curled up once again, but this time, the half smirk seemed to be more cemented than the first one he honored her with. "Isn't it almost time for the kiss?"
He had to be Jack's age, maybe a year older, maybe a year younger. It didn't matter. His face was timeless. It would probably look the same in ten, twenty, thirty years.
Wait, what about kisses?
"Excuse me?" she asked, though it must have come out much more distorted than she believed.
"Why do we keep answering questions with more questions?" he asked. "I apologize for the nature of my questions. They are a tad unprofessional, aren't they? I'm not sure how it was at Phillip Enterprises, but we're a much more lax company. Feel free to show up in jeans and flip flops. We have a nice lounge that possesses the entire thirteenth floor where you can play ping pong, air hockey, everything. We have a professional chef, and every month, we go somewhere as a company. We do a fantasy league for every sport—not sure if you're into that—we have two pools, one indoor that can be used anytime. We have bunks if you need some time to recharge your batteries with a quick cat nap. We have social mixers. Essentially, we have everything you'd want in a company. As I said before, things are more intimate with us, and we have a 93% hiring rate after an internship, so there's a good chance you'll be guaranteed a job after your internship concludes."
The Dark Paradise Trilogy Box Set Page 35
