I laughed as I tugged away. “Oh, like your flirting with Julie in front of me was no big deal.”
“I didn’t flirt with Julie,” he said.
“Please,” I scoffed. Then I began to imitate him. “‘See that wood? It’s gen-yoo-ine lapacho. It brings out the green in your eyes.’” I batted mine for emphasis. “You know what you told me when you first brought me down that hallway? ‘Merch is in the office. Let me show you where I keep my stuff.’”
He chuckled then, which only pissed me off. “Is that the problem? All these weeks later and you’re still waiting to see my ‘stuff’?”
“I saw it, remember?”
He stepped closer. “And apparently you haven’t forgotten.” He reached for a tendril of my hair, but I yanked away. “Maybe if you fucked me already, you’d quit acting like such a bitch.”
My hand flew on its own. It connected with his cheek before I even knew I had wanted to slap the man. I gasped and backed up a step, instantly remorseful. “Eli, I’m sorry,” I started, but he surprised me by cupping his face with yet another insufferable grin.
“I’m not,” he murmured as he stepped closer, to close the gap I’d left between us. “That’s the passion that I like to see from you.”
My eyes widened as he reached for yet another button to release on his shirt. “What are you doing?”
“What do couples normally do when they have a really successful night?” He leaned closer, speaking softly. “They celebrate.”
“Eli,” I started again, and he responded by pulling me into his embrace.
“Hey, I’m just trying to save you some money.” My eyes narrowed as he went on. “I’m not blind. I see you have needs. I could meet them,” he offered, his eyes traveling over my face to land finally on my softly parted mouth. “Give me a chance and I could make you forget that sleazy poser, Caz.”
That made me chuckle. “You really think you and Caz are so different?”
He ground his infamous pelvis against mine. “Have us both and find out.”
I pushed away. “How about I have neither of you? That’s an option too, you know.”
I stalked towards the bed, which I got into. Eli peeled the shirt from his shoulders, tossing it on a nearby chair. He was half-naked as he joined me, crawling over to wear I sat, propped up on some pillows. “Still deluding yourself, I see.”
“Please,” I snorted. “You’re the one who is deluded.”
He shrugged. “By the end of the year, one of us will be right, and one of us will be wrong. I think my odds are pretty damned good considering we still have,” he referred to his watch, “ten months and two weeks to go.”
“It could be ten years, it wouldn’t matter.”
“Why?”
“Because of tonight, that’s why. You treat me differently. And that’s just the way it is. I’m not something you settle for simply because I have the right collection of parts and you’ve got a boner. All women want to be treated like goddesses in the bed, not just the pretty ones. We want to believe that we’re the only ones you could ever think about touching or kissing or holding or fucking. If you close your eyes, picturing someone who is more to your ‘preference’ just to get you there, you cheat us of something. That means you’re the one that isn’t worthy of the gift we give you, not the other way around.”
He watched me silently. Finally he said, “Why do I get the feeling we’re not talking about me anymore?”
I glared at him. “How could I forget? Nothing is ever your fault.”
“See, now you’re getting it,” he said as he smiled and leaned forward. “Every girl who has ever been with me has been treated like a queen. You just say the word and I’ll show you.”
“Forget it,” I said with the shake of my head. “Never going to happen. Not this year. Not next year. Not ever.”
He chuckled again. “I’d like to see you put your money where your mouth is.”
“What does that mean?”
He sat up. “You say you can resist me. Maybe you can. You’ve got other options, I guess. But I’m 99.9% sure the entire time you’d fuck anyone else you’d be thinking of me. Just like I was thinking of you,” he added, referring to his Valentine’s Day escapades.
At first his comment made me shudder, though I wasn’t sure why since I was 99.9% sure he was full of shit. “Please,” I sniffed again.
He ran his finger along my skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “Eventually curiosity is going to get the better of you. I’m willing to put money on it. If you can go this whole year without giving in to me, then I’ll double your money. A million dollar reward, just for keeping me out of your pants. But,” he added as he scooted closer, “if I win, and you wind up right where you are, in my bed,” he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, “in my arms,” he murmured as those ice-blue eyes met mine, “then you give back everything you have left of that initial payment.”
I flung his arm away. “You’re such a jackass.”
He bounced back like one of those inflatable clown balloons. “Hey, I think I’m being a nice guy. I’m willing to double what I paid you, but only take back half of what you’d owe. Pretty generous offer on my part. And since you’re so convinced you’ll never sleep with me,” he offered, trailing off softly as he nuzzled my neck, bending close to trail those full lips against my sensitive skin. “What do you have to lose?”
My teeth gritted together. I was so sick of all his stupid games, especially since my sex-starved body had started to respond to his seduction, as if this wasn’t Eli Blake—the man I hated the most, ever. It was as though my own libido was staging a coup.
But I supposed he had a point. In just a few short months I could walk away twice as rich as I thought, while teaching Eli a thing or two about how irresistible he thought he was. I really did have nothing to lose. “Fine,” I finally said, and cursed my voice for cracking as I did so. I cleared my throat and tried again. “You have a deal.”
He pulled back, his gaze soft and amused. “Seal it with a kiss?”
“Fine,” I said again, this time a little stronger. I watched his head tilt forward before his warm mouth covered mine. He wasted no time parting my lips with his tongue, deepening the kiss instantly as one of his hands curled behind my neck and grasping a handful of my hair in his grip.
I responded to the kiss out of sheer defiance, to show him what he would be missing if nothing else. My tongue danced with his, willfully, wantonly, until his muffled groans were lost in my mouth. I played with his hair with one hand, while the other trailed lightly across his bared torso, dipping low down towards his abdomen, and the unbuttoned fastener of his dress pants. He trembled against me as I gasped into his mouth, the minute before I took his bottom lip gently between my teeth and pulled away. His eyes met mine and I smiled. “Sweet dreams, Eli,” I said before I turned away from him to face the wall.
For a few precious, victorious moments, I knew that I had bested him. Unfortunately my victory was short-lived. My breath caught in my throat as he leaned forward, pressing himself against me, lining his own body against mine, spooning me until I felt the hard evidence of his desire pressing into me. He rocked subtly, slowly, to ensure I could feel the promise of every solid, throbbing inch. I held my breath as he ran his hand down through my hair, over my shoulder and down my arm. His breath was hot against my neck as he took one sexual liberty after another, including a thorough study of how my ass fit perfectly in the palm of his hand.
Just as I was about to shut the whole thing down, he smacked my ass with one hand, causing me to whip around to face him in open-mouthed shock. “You too, sweet cheeks,” he grinned, before he hopped up off of the bed and headed towards the shower.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next day the house in Malibu was in chaos as a cleaning crew swept away all evidence of our party while we prepared for one of the biggest nights in Tinsel Town. Clem was at the house by eleven, to do my makeup and fix my hair. Eli was wise enough to stay away. From
the time I woke up that morning and faced his empty space on the bed, he was at his piano, shirtless and barefoot, wearing only his lounging bottoms, as he played the song he was due to perform that night over and over again. It was a relentless pursuit of perfection, one where he barely paid Clem or me any mind at all.
He was completely in the zone.
I couldn’t think about it. The car would be there at three, and I still had to transform back into the belle of the ball.
I knew I was going to end up on Miles’s “Worst Dressed” list no matter what I wore. He had made it clear he felt that my presence on the red carpet was an embarrassment at best. He was still #TeamRhonda all the way, and had been the one to consistently whisper our relationship wasn’t really what it appeared to be.
I knew his eagle eye would miss nothing.
“Stop stressing,” Clem told me as she helped me into the designer dress. The bodice was close fitting, made of lace, long-sleeved and sheer, fitting almost like a swimsuit under the swaths of sheer royal blue fabric that covered all the critical spots, flowing behind me like a cape.
It showed off quite a bit of leg, but I wasn’t too worried about that. Thanks to playing sports as a teenager, I still had thick, muscular calves that looked spectacular in short dresses. That and my full derriere stole the show in this particular dress, which covered almost everything north of the waistline in royal blue lace.
It was, however, backless, and Clem insisted on a slight bronzing powder, which she was applying when Eli finally entered the bedroom to change. He stopped to admire her handiwork. “Good God, Clem. Is there anything you can’t do?”
I nearly bit my tongue in half trying to hold back any smartass comment.
“I’m just polishing the diamond that was already there,” she told him. Our eyes met in the mirror and a ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“So true,” he murmured softly as he leaned forward to give me a sweet peck on the mouth. To any outsider, it was a loving gesture from a doting boyfriend.
I offered an equally fake smile to show my appreciation.
He then disappeared into the bathroom to shower. Clem waited till the water was running to say anything. “Okay. You have got to let me in on this. Two months ago you hate the guy. Now you’re mooning over him? What gives, Carly?”
I sighed. I so wanted to tell her the truth. I hated that I couldn’t tell her the truth. That wasn’t who I was. That wasn’t who we were. Finally I shrugged. “Living here has changed things,” was all I could say.
“I’ll say,” she replied. She bent down to face me. “Blink twice if he’s holding you captive.”
I laughed. “Nothing like that,” I assured.
At least not yet…
“Fine, fine,” she said. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready. Damn fine timing, though. Caz Bixby can’t stop asking about you.”
I laughed again. “He just wants another customer.”
“Nah, I don’t think that’s it,” she said. “I think he gets it, how rough things can be when you’re suddenly the topic on everyone’s tongues. I think maybe he sees you as some damsel in distress who needs saving. And I think that’s what Caz needs for Caz.”
“He said he was fucking you,” I pointed out, which made her laugh harder.
“You know better than that,” she said. She had a strict policy never to mix business with pleasure.
“Would you… you know, if you weren’t working for him?”
She shrugged. “He’s got to know a thing or two. That could be fun.”
This was what it meant to be a FFF. We were hedonists deep down. The shameless pursuit of pleasure, no judgment. What was the point of living if you couldn’t have at least one Caz in your life?
“But you have Eli and you’re not the kind to cheat,” she pointed out. “You’ll just have to save it for another time. Another month. Another year,” she added, doing her best to subtly communicate it was okay if I told her the truth.
But I knew I couldn’t. And it was because of her I couldn’t. If he sued me for all the money he’d given me, I’d have to sell my part of the club. I couldn’t leave Clem and Antoine hanging like that. It was her worst fear. Now I knew why.
So I zipped my lip and allowed her to work her glamor magic. By the time the car arrived at three o’clock, I felt that I was ready to walk a red carpet. Eli, who wore black on black again, added a matching blue pocket square and bow tie to his ensemble, which made me chuckle. “We really need to match?” I asked.
He offered me his arm. “Why not? We’re a team, you and I. Why not let the world know it?”
I rolled my eyes and followed him to the car.
The trip to get to the theater didn’t take half as long as that final block, where we would spill from the limo out onto the red carpet. From there we would face the media gauntlet, where every outlet would grab us to ask questions about Eli’s big night. I grew more nervous by the minute as we waited. I just wanted to be done with this part already. I wanted to get to the auditorium where I could watch the show blended in with everyone else. That was all I wanted or needed to do.
As if he could feel my anxiety, Eli reached for my hand and squeezed it. Our eyes met and he offered a small, friendly smile, probably the most genuine of any he’d ever given me. I found myself returning it. As crazy as he drove me, it helped to know he understood how hard this was for me.
Finally it was our turn. Daylight spilled into the car as an attendant opened the door for us. Eli got out first, and all the fans waiting in the stands nearby lost their ever-loving minds, screaming and fawning for him. He smiled their way and gave them a friendly wave, before he reached back to offer me a hand and help me out of the car.
Oddly enough, they screamed even louder when I joined him. I mirrored him because I didn’t know what else to do, waving slightly at the crowd with a somewhat bemused smile on my face.
They liked me? That was unexpected.
His arm was strong around my waist as he guided me forward. So many famous faces surrounded us that it all sort of blurred together as we hustled through the crowd for the first interview, and then the second and the third. Everyone got the same ninety seconds or so, and the questions repeated over and over again.
“How do you feel about your chances to win?”
“Such a great song, what was your inspiration?”
“How has your first nomination changed your career?”
I mostly stood quiet in the circle of his arm, allowing him to speak. I knew all the right things to say, of course, but this was his moment, and he was doing remarkably well.
“Honestly it would be surreal to win. I’ve been dreaming about a moment like this since I was a kid. It’s just an honor to be included in this amazing group of nominees.”
“The same thing that inspires all my songs. Love. Chasing it. Getting it. Losing it. Finding it again,” he would add as he glanced down to me with that same smile.
“This nomination has catapulted my career. I’ve had offers to work with people I really respect. It’s mind-blowing. And humbling.”
Eventually, in the last twenty seconds or so, their attention would turn to me with the obvious question, to ask who had dressed me. “Darcy Masters and Youniquely Cabot,” I’d answer, making sure to step apart from Eli just long enough to twirl and give the cameras a good view of the dress. “I wouldn’t let anyone else dress me for an event as important as this one,” I would add, before smiling up at Eli to show my support as the devoted girlfriend.
They would fawn appropriately, telling me that I should model, or some equally fake bullshit. I would resist with a humble shake of my head, while Eli wholeheartedly agreed with them like any doting boyfriend would.
This would ultimately turn their attention back to Eli, which was what I wanted in the first place. After what felt like an hour, we were ushered inside the building. Eli took his time networking, meeting all the important people that were in his nearby vicinity. A
gain, I stayed pretty much glued to his side, a silent automaton, nodding, smiling and shaking hands on cue.
“You must be so proud of him!” more than one person said. Dutifully I would nod.
I was exhausted by the time we took our seats and the show finally opened.
The long broadcast gave me plenty of time to unwind, even though I knew the cameras swept over us more than once. We sat closely together, and every now and then he’d lean over to whisper something in my ear, which usually amounted to, “I’m starved. Remind me to get burgers on the way home.” It made me laugh, which I knew would give the impression to those around us that we were close and intimate and happy.
It was a successful ruse all the way to Eli’s performance, where he sang his song, “Never Too Far,” alone at a piano while two dancers, one dressed in black, the other in white, slithered around each other in a seductive, yet heart-breaking dance of unrequited love.
The song was the love ballad for a tragic romance that year, of star-crossed lovers who could never quite get the timing to work for their picture perfect happy ending. The song was the promise that no matter where life took them, they would never be too far to be there when it truly counted. It was a lifetime of love comprised mostly of moments, one that ended tragically when one fell fatally ill. It gave a mournful quality to the song, which had me in tears as I listened. It was all so beautiful, and so easy to get caught up in the illusion of it.
After the song was over, I spotted myself on camera, wiping away a tear before clapping for him. And it was genuine applause. Eli had performed his ass off, with nothing but the strength of his singing and his self-taught piano skills to sell that song to a worldwide audience of millions. It was quite honestly the proudest I had ever been of him.
I tried to convey that in my smile when he returned. He took my hand in his and squeezed tight. He knew he had nailed it, and was entitled to feel proud of what he had done. When the category was announced, he sat on the edge of his seat, taking my hand in both of his as he waited.
Glitter on the Web Page 15
