by Aubrey Dark
“Lacey!” Steph screamed, throwing her arms around me. “It’s so good to see you! I feel like we never hang out anymore.”
“I know,” I said. I hugged her and then Rachel. “But I came by the bakery last week and you weren’t there,” I said.
“Busy on a supply run, probably,” Steph said, shrugging. “It’s tough. Business is growing, but they just hiked up rent prices. I have to make twice as many cupcakes!”
I winced inside. Now that Jake was giving me so much, I felt bad hearing Steph’s money woes. Before, we could commiserate together about being poor. Now, though, I didn’t have to work to pay rent—Jake just let me stay with him. He bought all my art stuff, and let me use his studio, and—
Andy put the cupcakes down on a side table and hugged me with so much force I nearly toppled over.
“Lacey bug!” he cried.
“Andy bug!” I said, laughing back. “It’s good to see you. Love the tux.”
“You like? I borrowed it. I can’t wait to meet the sexy billionaire you were telling us about.” He adjusted the lapel on his tux nervously.
“Andy, Jake is mine.” I held up a finger in warning.
“No, the other one. His friend. Maybe he’ll be gay.”
“Maybe,” I said, thinking about Lucas Black. “I doubt it, though. And he’s got another friend coming, some musician or something. Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky!”
Just then, Jake walked into the room.
“Hello, Steph,” he said. He bent to kiss her on the cheek, and she smiled, her cheeks dimpling with pleasure. He kissed Rachel on the cheek, too.
Then he held out a hand to Andy, but Steph’s brother was already leaning in for a kiss on the cheek. Jake obliged, a look of surprise on his face.
“So this is the reclusive boyfriend I’ve heard so much about,” Andy said, giving Jake a wink as he pulled away.
“Be careful, Jake,” I said. “Andy’s trying to steal you, I think.”
“Moi? Never!” Andy looked offended. “Besides, I like blondes better. No offense.”
“None taken,” Jake said. “Please have an appetizer.”
He held out my plate of bruschetta and both Steph and Andy took one.
“We brought cupcakes,” Andy said. “Red velvet and cream cheese.”
“Look at these men,” I said to Steph, crossing my arms. “Taking credit for all the food.”
“I’ll give Jake credit for one thing,” Steph said, arching an eyebrow at me.
“What?”
“Getting you to wear a dress!”
I blushed. Not only had Jake gotten me to wear a dress, he’d told me—ordered me, would be a better way to put it—that I was not allowed to wear any panties under my dress. That had made our little kitchen tryst earlier more convenient for him. Now, though, around other people, I felt naked.
Jake’s servant came in again, this time followed by Lucas Black and another woman. She was tall and thin, and she looked surprised to see Steph and me standing in the middle of Jake’s living room. Her surprise turned into a flat look of condescension.
My chest tightened. I was used to being looked down at, but being used to something didn’t mean you had to like it.
Lucas, however, didn’t flinch for an instant. He grabbed Jake in a friendly embrace, then turned to greet the rest of us eagerly. As he bent to kiss Steph on the cheek, I could see her flush red.
“That one,” Andy whispered in my ear. “Blond, tall, sexy as hell.”
“You can fight your sister for him,” I whispered back. “And that woman, while you’re at it.”
Andy scoffed.
“She’s no threat,” he said.
“You don’t think so?”
“They don’t like each other at all,” he said, his voice certain.
I looked closer as Lucas and the woman finished their greetings. Her name was Belle, and she shook my hand as limply as if I was a dirty rag she didn’t want to touch. As soon as they’d come in, Lucas had separated himself from her. Now he stood talking to Jake on the opposite side of the group as her.
I wondered if maybe they were fighting. Lucas Black wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and if they were dating, maybe they’d just gotten into a spat. But before I could say anything back to Andy, a shout from the entrance rose over our conversation.
“Jake! Lucas!”
The tall man on the step wasn’t wearing a tux or a suit. Instead, he had a tight black shirt on over a muscled chest, black jeans, and dark sunglasses. He lifted his glasses, and I saw that his eyes were just as dark.
There were two women with him, one on each arm—two redheads. He lifted his arms up and left them behind as he entered the room. They followed behind him, neither one looking much surprised.
He fairly jumped down the steps and thumped both Lucas and Jake on the back.
“Did I miss anything? Where’s the orgy?”
I noticed Andy’s ears perked up at the mention of an orgy. Belle rolled her eyes and crossed her arms impatiently. She hadn’t eaten any of my bruschetta. I felt personally slighted when someone didn’t want to eat something I’d made. It was delicious, darn it. And Rachel looked startled as the man walked into the room.
“No orgies tonight,” Lucas said, a lilting tease in his voice. “This is a very elegant affair.”
“Allow me to make the occasion a bit more informal, then! Sorry I’m not all dolled up but I have a concert after this, Jake.”
“No problem,” Jake said, grinning. “Everyone, this is Clint Terrance.”
“The Clint Terrance?” Andy said. His jaw dropped open.
“What Clint Terrance?” Steph asked.
“The rock star—” Andy broke off as Clint appeared in front of him to shake his hand.
“That’s right,” Clint said, with fake bravado. “I play guitar and sing for Talismen.”
“You are the absolute best,” Andy gushed, still holding onto Clint’s hand.
“What band?” Belle asked with disdain.
“Talismen.”
“What do you play?”
“Hard rock.”
“Oh,” she said, with a swish of her hair.
“That’s right.” Clint turned his back to her squarely, and her arched eyebrows turned down into a frown. Belle was apparently not the kind of girl who was used to being ignored.
“I’m sorry. I’ve never heard of it,” Steph said, tilting her head coyly.
“Then you’ll have to let me tell you all about how amazing we are,” Clint said.
He smiled at Steph in a way that made me think Andy was going to be very disappointed tonight. And strangely enough, I saw Lucas Black watching them as they moved away toward the plate of bruschetta. Rachel hung back nervously, her eyes tracking Clint and Steph.
I laughed. Clint and Steph were both so outgoing that I wondered who would come out on top.
“Ohh,” Andy said, watching them go. “You didn’t tell me that Clint freaking Terrance was going to be here!”
“I didn’t know,” I said, shrugging. “I’ve never heard of his band either.”
“I’m surrounded by philistines,” Andy sighed, staring like a preteen girl at the rock star. He’s an absolute dream. Did I say I liked blondes? Blondes be damned.”
“Lacey, shall we?”
Jake held out a hand toward me, looking toward the dining room where Steph and Clint were headed. I let him wrap his hand around the small of my back. His fingers slid down a little too far.
“Easy now,” I whispered. “The guests have arrived.”
“Just checking to make sure your panties were still off,” Jake whispered back. “I have plans for later tonight.”
Chapter Three
Lucas Black spent the entire dinner trying unsuccessfully to keep his eyes off of Steph. She was sitting directly across from him, and the dress she was wearing was definitely one of the ones she called “my fuck-me dresses.”
I didn’t know there were different kinds of dresses
, but Steph had educated me upon my arrival in New York. There were church dresses and going out dresses and clubbing dresses and first date dresses and coffee date dresses and so many others I couldn’t even remember.
Now, Lucas Black’s line of sight had a wide angle of her ample cleavage. I don’t know if she was doing it on purpose, but it worked—she had the men’s attention. Well, except for Andy and Jake, who was probably struggling not to drift a glance over her chest.
Clint Terrance, rock star extraordinaire, spent most of the evening making sarcastic quips in between the two redheads he’d brought with him. They tittered appropriately, but I noticed that his gaze kept wandering over. Not to Belle, not to Steph, but to Rachel. Rachel, on the other hand, wasn’t looking back at him at all. I wondered if she hated rock music that much.
Lucas was getting a little too excited about the business possibilities of cupcakes, and Andy interrupted their conversation about Steph’s cupcake business. Lucas’s date gave a small sigh of relief.
“When she was seven, Steph wanted to be the most famous baker in New York,” Andy said. “Do you want to know what she did one Christmas?”
“What?”
“Oh, Andy, don’t tell this story.” Steph put her face in her hands.
“It’s fine, sis,” he said, laughing. “She was just starting to learn how to bake with Mom, and so she decided to make Christmas cinnamon buns all on her own. As the dutiful young brother, of course, I was her assistant.”
“You were the worst assistant,” she corrected.
“I do not dispute that,” Andy said, holding up a finger. “And that was why, when she told me to put in a scoop of yeast, I scooped up a handful of yeast and threw it in there.”
“We went to watch a cartoon while the dough rose,” Steph said. “You see where this is going.”
Half of the table was already chuckling. Lucas Black was looking at Steph with so much attention that his date had relegated herself to glaring at him.
“And by the time we got back—”
“The dough was everywhere! It had risen up over the bowl and spilled all over the table. We tried to scrape it up, but it was all over the wrapping paper, ribbons, tape—it was on everything!”
“Mom was so mad,” Andy said.
“Ugh!” Steph said, throwing up her hands in mock frustration. “Just be glad you don’t have a brother!”
Jake didn’t react, but every other person in the room did. Lucas’s shoulders tensed noticeably, and his date’s head snapped toward Jake as though expecting a response.
Steph immediately realized what she had said.
“Oh,” she stammered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“That’s perfectly alright.” Jake said with a pinched smile.
“I guess you were always meant to rise above your beginnings as a chef,” Clint quipped.
The table laughed, but it was forced laughter. The redheads stole quick peeks over at Jake to see what his reaction was going to be. He only smiled and the conversation moved on.
Jake had told me about his family when we’d first met. Most people already knew, I suppose. The Carvilles were famous in New York City. Their family had been wealthy, living in the lap of luxury. But when the fire had enveloped their building, Jake had been the only survivor. He’d only been a small child, but he’d managed to run out before the building burned to the ground.
He’d left his father in there, his mother… and his younger brother.
I squeezed Jake’s knee under the table. He breathed in, and I was close enough to hear the hitch in his breath.
Thankfully, Lucas rose and lifted his glass, switching the direction of the conversation completely.
“I would just like to say congratulations to Jake Carville for finally getting into a decent media contract, and everything it means. I’m glad to see you so happy with your new girl,” he said, winking at me.
“I’m happy to be with her,” Jake said, squeezing my hand.
“Then cheers. To a bright future,” he said, lifting his glass. We all echoed his motions, clinking our glasses together.
Jake raised his glass too, but I could tell his thoughts were off elsewhere. I hoped that he wasn’t too struck by Steph’s comment earlier.
“I already can’t wait for you to come back,” I said, whispering into his ear.
He turned to me, his emerald eyes coming back to the real world. He smiled.
“You keep my heart with you wherever I am,” he whispered back. We sipped our champagne and I could not tell if it was the alcohol or his words that made me feel so light and giddy. I hadn’t been called his girlfriend, but this was good enough.
The chatter rose back up around the table. I could see Rachel opening up a bit, adding in a few choice witty comments alongside Steph’s stories. Andy was, surprisingly enough, more quiet than I’d ever seen him. I think he was just starstruck. He sat there mooning over Clint Terrance while eating his zucchini.
Everything was beautiful and I should have been happy. Jake’s servants refilled the wine glasses and the lights seemed to grow brighter. I was tipsy and Lucas was verging on the edge of being drunk. His eyes strayed to Steph’s cleavage more often. I hid my giggles and made a mental note to tell her afterward.
But the bright mood I was in soon dimmed. Belle leaned over from Jake’s side, pressing her shoulder to his. A flare of jealousy rose up in me so quickly, I barely knew what had taken me over.
“Will you bring us something back from Paris?” she asked. Her eyelashes batted down over her perfectly sculpted cheekbones. Of course. Her very name meant beautiful. “The last time I was there I forgot to bring back my favorite kind of wine. You know what that is.”
The insinuation wasn’t lost on me. Jake had bought her favorite wine for her before. Another pang of jealousy hit as Jake smiled back at her.
“That Bordeaux, right?”
“Of course. Vintage two thousand.”
“I’ll try,” Jake said. Belle patted his hand on the table. I wanted to chop her arm off. He’s mine! Instead I smiled alongside Jake and speared a circle of zucchini. I wasn’t going to be the needy, jealous girlfriend. Heck, I wasn’t even sure if I qualified as a girlfriend.
The rush of hurt that came over me stung the backs of my eyes. I caught Rachel’s eye from across the table and we shared a glance. She was more like me—both of us farm girls, unsure about New York City and the way to act around rich and famous people. I raised my eyebrows while sweeping my eyes over at Belle, and she nodded her head, the hint of a smile peeking out at the corner of her mouth. Over at her side of the table, Clint Terrance was talking over everybody, ignoring her completely.
It didn’t help ease my jealousy, but it made me feel a little better to know that at least I wasn’t alone.
Chapter Four
Dinner ended and we said our goodbyes to the guests. I wandered out onto the patio, hoping for a breath of fresh air. Tonight had been fun, but I needed some time to recharge.
The lights of New York City danced below me. It was still chilly outside, but not nearly as bad as it had been even a week before. February was normally the coldest time in the city, but something inside me made me feel warm even in my strapless gown.
Ever since I was a kid, I’d been scared of heights. I was counting on that fear to push away my insecurities that had built up during dinner.
It worked, somewhat. As I looked down at the city far below, adrenaline pumped through my veins. If I was scared of being up so high, I couldn’t be scared of losing Jake, or of driving him away.
I heard the patio door slide open behind me. Jake loosened his tie and came to lean on the railing. His fingers slid over my hand and held it loosely. We didn’t say anything for a minute or so, just watched the tiny figures moving through the streets below.
A sense of unease moved me. I used to be one of those people, a peon in the streets. I was the one in the alleyway until Jake stole me away. And recently, I’d been feeling mor
e and more like a burden.
I didn’t know if I could handle all this. Everything was moving so fast, and I was being swept up in Jake’s world. It excited and terrified me at the same time.
“I don’t know if I can stay here,” I said finally.
Jake turned his slow gaze on me. In the night, his emerald eyes reflected the lights of the city, small pinpricks of brightness in the dark.
“With me, you mean? Lacey, you know you can stay here as long as you want.”
“I mean here. In the city. I don’t know if I can stay here.”
“I thought you loved New York.”
“I did. I do. It’s just…” I struggled to put into words what I was feeling. “I used to live on a farm with absolutely nothing around. It was the most boring thing ever. And yet, when I went outside there, I felt like I was free.”
“And you’re not free here?”
“I’m…” I searched for the right word. “Claustrophobic. This city moves lightning-fast, and I don’t know if I can keep up. I don’t know if I want to keep up. When I was struggling to make rent, I thought to myself: wait until your art takes off. Then you’ll have it made.”
“But it has taken off. You sold your paintings—”
“You sold those paintings. It was all your friends who bought them, doing you a favor.”
“What about this bidder who wants to meet you tomorrow?”
“Sure,” I said. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was scared the bidder would meet me and realize I was a fraud in the art world. That was how I felt, anyway. “But even if he buys the painting, so what?”
“So what? So what? That would be great news!”
“Why? It doesn’t matter. Like you said, the money doesn’t matter to you—”
“Lacey—”
“And even if I sell this painting and every other one, so what? It doesn’t matter!”
“Do you want to leave?”
I looked at him, worried that he had taken it the wrong way.
“I don’t mean I don’t appreciate this. Believe me, this is a lot less claustrophobic than my old apartment. But…”
