She extended her hand. Her eyes were warm milk chocolate with flecks of butterscotch rum and he became intoxicated. He extended his hand to introduce himself. The moment they touched he felt a spark. Literally.
“Ow!” She pulled back, and then grinned. “I’m so sorry.”
“Falcon Grey,” he said introducing himself. “And your apology’s accepted.”
He opened his eyes. He didn’t know what to do for her but he needed to make some sense out of everything that happened. For now, the thing he needed most was sleep.
After my insightful conversation with Liz, I was somewhat convinced that it would be better to talk to Falcon than to believe the damning voices in my head. I knew she was right but I wasn’t ready to talk to him. My acting skills were good but somehow I knew he’d see right through me if I weren’t honest. So I went back to my room. I spent hours contemplating my next move. I revisited everything that had happened, not just from that night, but all the time we spent together. My plan to remain aloof and noncommittal had, obviously, crashed and burned. The realization of how deep into myself I’d gone thoroughly exhausted me. I slept most of the day.
Once I had slept for several hours I focused on the future. I knew I’d been a victim long enough. My brain had finally calmed down enough for me to think rationally. I had to talk to him. I had to explain. Really explain. About everything. He deserved that much. I wasn’t even going to worry about him agreeing to see me after Vegas because I told myself that almost everything that happened here was superficial or make-believe, even if it was the most real relationship I’d ever had. I just wanted the chance to clarify that my experiences with facing up to people like Blake were jaded.
The scenario from the day before had never been part of my plans. I had something completely different in mind, especially since I blatantly tried to seduce him. I had it all planned before we even went out. I even had a brilliant thought that, if he stayed the night, I would have the memory I wanted and he wouldn’t notice the marks on me as long as I kept the lights turned off. Either he would leave or I would get dressed before morning. It was a win-win, or so I thought.
I wanted it to be different with him. I wanted it to feel different. For just one night of my life, I wanted more than human contact. I wanted it to be more than simply a scratch for an itch. As much as I hated to admit it, I had let myself feel more for Falcon than I’d felt for anyone else before. For one night I wanted the fairytale. I wanted more. I’d earned it. Didn’t I?
Then everything happened with Blake. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was never destined for a fairytale. Princesses are the beautiful ones and I, most certainly, was not. I’d been lying to myself. It made me feel better. Then Falcon came to the rescue. He really was a white knight and he deserved much better than what I could give to him. I thought—I hoped—that if I could justify my actions, or enlighten him as to what my true reasons were for letting Blake get away with what he had done to me so that, maybe, Falcon and I could at least walk away from this as friends. My heart ached from wanting more than that and I remembered the pain of wanting to be like the other girls. Those other girls could survive a man like Falcon. He was more than just a warm body. That night he was my caretaker and protector, a combination that proved to be dangerous to my carefully guarded heart. I was kidding myself by hoping for a three-dimensional memory to comfort me when I returned to my two-dimensional life. I somehow got caught up in my own fantasy and I was hurting for it. Feelings that I had never felt fused with my happiness. I was still utterly conflicted by the emotions he had awakened in me. I shouldn’t have let my guard down, but he made loving him too easy because he made me feel beautiful.
I had to talk to him. At the very least, he deserved an explanation before it got messy and before we went home. I couldn’t let my hopeful mistake complicate the relationships we had back there. So I prepared. I slept, showered, and put on my favorite disguise; a competent woman who had it all under control.
I had walked from my hotel to his. I needed the air to prepare. I was so preoccupied that I couldn’t remember noticing anything the entire distance that I walked. Before I knew it I had arrived. As I stood in front of his door, I took several deep breaths and then I knocked.
Perspiration bit my skin with prickly teeth and I struggled for oxygen, which, because of my anxiety, seemed to be in short supply. I moved to the side of the door so he wouldn’t see me if he looked out. It felt like an eternity and I counted the seconds off to the beating of my heart. I tried to steady my hands when I heard a click and then saw the handle turn.
When he opened the door my breath caught in my throat. Just the sight of him sliced through my façade and vaporized the character I’d prepared. The determination I’d arrived with melted away. His eyes widened slightly when he saw me. It was painfully obvious that I was the last person that he expected to see. I heard the tinkling of my heart as it shattered into a million pieces.
He left the door open in silent invitation. When he walked back into the room, I lusted after the man I desired but couldn’t touch. His jeans hung provocatively low and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. His room was stunning and the lighting showcased tanned skin and broad shoulders. His arms were thick and hard and I very much wanted to be held by them. He turned toward me and I froze. He may have thought it was because I was uncomfortable but it was really because I wanted to remember how beautiful he was. I couldn’t keep my eyes from roaming his solid chest and chiseled torso. The only thing about him that didn’t look right was his expression. It was hard and tight and I knew that it was me that made it that way. I looked down. My gaze caught the arched lines of the V that traveled from his hips and down into the fabric and I ached because I would never be able to touch him. No other man had ever affected me the way Falcon did and I vehemently hated how my body betrayed me. He just stood there, observing me. Somehow, I managed a weak smile.
“Can we please talk?” My voice was low and hoarse and my mouth was dry. I stood nervously in the uncomfortable silence and I wondered if he could hear my stomach turning. Finally, he motioned with his head for me to sit while he disappeared into another room. I had nothing else to distract my racing mind except to enjoy the exquisite decor.
It was massive, which made me feel very small. Heavily veined, marble tile covered all of the floors. On top of them were rugs so plush that they looked as deep as the ocean color they were dyed. The furniture was bold and heavy and blended in complimentary colors of the blackest blue and gray. A huge, mirrored bar framed in thick mahogany anchored the room. It was stocked and I suddenly wished Falcon would offer me a drink to wet my mouth and wash away my suddenly decomposed confidence. If I hadn’t been so uncomfortable I would have enjoyed its sophistication, but instead I decided to use it as fodder to break the ice for the serious conversation I hoped to have with him. My attention was drawn to the bedroom door as he returned fully dressed.
“This is beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
His tone was stiff. He was making me pay a penance by being cold to me when all I wanted to do was repent for my shortsightedness and move on. He sat down across from me and, after what seemed like an eternity, he leaned in.
“What are you doing here, Paige?” His voice was neither compassionate nor accusing, simply monotone, and I wondered if his feelings for me were as flat as his voice. I shifted uneasily in the chair.
“Wow.” The word came out with a rush of air. I looked him dead in the face. “You’re not going to make this easy are you?” He answered with silence. That said more than words ever could. “I wanted to thank you for last night.” His raised brows mocked me. It was obvious he doubted my sincerity. “You deserve an explanation.” His eyes never left me but he relaxed a little and eased back in the chair. “Fal...look…I know what Blake did wasn’t right. I also know he would have done a whole lot more damage if you hadn’t shown up. You could have left when you saw me…saw the condition I was in when I was alone in the room, but
you didn’t. Instead you took care of me. I can’t imagine what you think of me because I know what you saw, my scars and my pulling. I wish you hadn’t, but you did.” My throat was thick with embarrassment and shame.
His expression softened. I took a deep breath and, rushing forward, stared at the floor.
“Lots of people have scars, Paige. Inside and out.”
I waited for him to say more and was surprised when he didn’t. I couldn’t tell if he was genuine. What was he doing? Trying to be nice by acting like it was no big deal? I had a personal memory bank catalogued with reactions from various people so I knew that he thought something. What did he have to gain by acting like it didn’t matter? Things were already tense between us and I didn’t need him sugarcoating the issue. Whatever thoughts he had couldn’t be anything more corrosive than what I’d heard all my life.
“I know what my scars look like. I look at them every day. I’ve lived with them forever. I don’t even have to open my eyes to see them. Their images are burned into my brain. Just spit it out. I can take it.” A thin wash of indignation washed through my voice.
He studied me intently before shaking his head. His expression was one of disbelief. He brought both hands up and covered his face before he wiped over it. A look of concern etched his handsome features.
“You know Paige, if you were anyone else, I’d think you were fishing for someone to coddle you, but I can tell you really do believe that your scars, and whatever caused them, should make a difference to me. Well, they do, but not the way you think. What you see is totally different from what I do. From what you say, I can tell that you see yourself as a victim and I see you as a survivor. They’re just marks; it’s just skin. Whatever the story behind them is it’s yours to tell—and you don’t have to share it with me. As a matter of fact, I don’t want you to tell me simply because it matters more to you than it does to me. By presuming that I would care more about how you look than I do about you, your pretty much accusing me of being shallow. That really pisses me off because, the truth is, I didn’t think less of you when I saw them, I thought more.”
I was speechless. For the second time in two days, I’d been slapped by his words. I didn’t know what was harder to take, people making fun of me because the scars mattered or Falcon chastising me because they didn’t. I stared at him as he got out of the chair.
“I’d ask you to stay, but…”
I was being dismissed. He walked over to the door and opened it, indicating that he wanted me to leave. It appeared the conversation was over.
“I...Fal, I’m…” I stammered. I was confused. I walked up to him and looked in his eyes. They were sad and heavy with hurt. I touched his face.
“I’m sorry.”
My thoughts were fragmented, my comprehension all over the place. If he was telling the truth, if he really saw me differently, I wanted to know why. Why would appearance matter to so many people and not to him? I grasped at whatever opportunity I had left. “Would you like to go to dinner? Please. I’d really like to…”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Paige,” he interrupted. “Besides…I’m flying home in a few hours.” The chill in his tone formed a chasm while his hurt expression consumed me.
“Oh. Some other time then.”
He struggled with a grin. “Sure.”
I managed to smile as I walked out the door. My heart was heavy. I screwed it up. I wouldn’t have the chance to salvage anything. Maybe I was living in a bubble that was made of my warped physical perception but wasn’t that what I’d been taught? ‘First impressions are lasting impressions’, ‘appearance is everything’, and ‘put your best foot forward’ were some of the first sayings I learned once I was old enough to go to school. They were proven to me the first time I was bullied and I still put them into practice to guide the appearance side of business. So if they weren’t the truth than what was the lie?
Mindlessly, I walked the hall. Falcon had obliterated my thoughts and memories. In the brief solitude offered by the elevator ride, I realized my presumptions and beliefs had, inadvertently, caused pain to someone whom I never wanted to hurt. I struggled with the notion that it could have been possible for someone to love me more than I loved myself and I never entertained giving it a chance. As the elevator doors opened, I stepped out in a fog
“Well, well, well…”
A heavily accented voice greeted me. The tone was laced with the poison of sarcasm and ripped off the Band-Aid I’d quickly put on my emotions when I walked out of Falcon’s suite.
Marisol glared at me. The woman whose haughty imbalance I had suffered and despised addressed me with her signature contempt.
“I didn’t think a girl like you could afford to stay in such a nice hotel.”
“Why not?” I countered without missing a beat. “Your husband paid me very well to fix your mistakes.” She didn’t expect such a quick comeback. She eyed me cautiously. Women cowered before her but I refused to be one of them. It took her a moment but she recovered.
“That’s right. I suppose that would make you my employee since you sold my properties. I’d like to tell you that I’m sorry for that, and also for what I did to you and your little friend, but I can’t. Because I’m not.”
What a lunatic! She’s screwing with the wrong woman today! I wanted to unleash on the bitch in front of me. Had she lost her mind? I wasn’t afraid of her. I’d been dealing with females like her my whole life and I learned quite a lesson; mean girls only know how to strike, not kill. They crush the tenderhearted, especially while we’re young, but what they really do is make us stronger. We grow up to be their worst nightmare. How effective! She expected me to cower but I wasn’t in the mood for her superior bullshit.
She narrowed her eyes. “So…how is our little Aria?”
“Like you care.” Sarcasm dripped through my every word. She acted so superior that I hoped she fall off her pedestal and hang herself. “Aria is fine. As a matter of fact, despite your effort to kill her, she is alive and well and just became a new mother. She and Declan couldn’t be happier.”
The smile fell from her lips and I tasted the sweetness of this one bite of victory.
“You swim in shallow waters, Marisol. One day you’ll drown in them.”
I walked away from her infused by a taste of triumph. She tried to dish out her superior attitude, but I gave it back to her in one, diseased bite. I didn’t look back.
“What lovely news. Please give them my best.” Her voice; I hated it.
I kept walking and heard her haughty cackle as I exited the hotel. First Falcon, then Marisol. I felt so oppressed I couldn’t wait to go back to my room and collapse.
“Excuse me. Ms. Paige?”
A man’s voice startled me.
“Hi Jorge.” My body relaxed.
“Ms. Paige, Mr. Grey asked me to take you wherever you wish.”
He held the car door open as an invitation. I was touched. Although Falcon was very angry, he was very considerate. It gave me a sliver of hope.
“Thank you, Jorge. I’d really like to go back to my hotel.”
I slid into the cool, crushed leather and Jorge closed the door behind me. Nothing had gone as planned. My relationship with Falcon was fractured and Marisol frayed what was left of my nerves. Falcon had one thing right.
It was time to go home.
Eight months later
Princesses come in all sizes, shapes, and colors. Today was the Christening day of Karas Rose Sinclair, my own little princess. I was so happy and thrilled to be her godmother. I got emotional when Aria and Declan asked me to stand for their daughter. Since I’d left Vegas I had nothing in my life other than work. Aria was as close as a sister to me, but I tried very hard to respect her personal life. Her life with a husband and new baby was very full, but because she had been through so much with me I think she felt like she was somehow abandoning me. Although I was touched, I assured her that I was okay. She knew that Liz was also a very close
friend and noticed, since my return, that I hadn’t been trying to make much of an effort to have a social life. I preferred to keep my social circle very small. Since feeling that connection with Falcon I wanted one with meaning, not volume.
Katherine, Declan’s assistant, and I had been getting together every few weeks for dinner and girl time. Aria’s mother, Jeannie, was my second mom and she also insisted on dinner at least once a month. Since I was making an effort to be more engaged, I felt my walls go down even more when I was around them. I would be seeing all of them today, including Aimee. We had been friends since we met and she used to be like the pesky kid sister I never had. I wouldn’t have confided in Aimee when she lived closer to me because she was a meddler. I was privy to her antics when she plotted to get Aria and Declan back together after a breakup. When Aimee moved to Western Maryland she was still very spunky, but she became the victim of a horrible attack one night when she was walking through the woods. After that, she became much more serious. When I returned from my trip Aimee began to call me more regularly. At first I was suspicious that Falcon might somehow be involved, but she assured me that he wasn’t. I loved Aimee. Carter was ever so protective of her and that touched my heart. Falcon’s eye opening comments did me a favor and when I returned home I really spent time thinking about my life and began to count my blessings. One night, after hours of introspection about an area of my character that he brought to my attention, I realized that I was a hypocrite. I’d always lent an ear for the women in my small circle, but I refused to impose on them for the same. Since that night, I made more of an effort to open myself for more than superficial relationships and had come to believe that I had just as much to give to them as I would receive. I think that was why I missed Falcon so much. He made me see myself in the mirror of his observations. I ached for something real with him but I was uncertain as to how badly I damaged what could have been.
Same/Difference (The Depth of Emotion #4) Page 12
