He took a step forward and I took two back, stopping when I ran into the vanity. I heard the crystal baubles tinkle and my gut clenched at the memory of my fingers tracing them just yesterday. Today it all felt like a fantasy, like I was living someone else's life. Someone who slept with billionaires and tangoed with mega celebrities and was supposed to shrug off tawdry pictures as no biggie.
The patience in Jacob's voice was nowhere to be found when he squared his jaw. "I don't understand what this is all about. The possibility of paparazzi was outlined in the contract. In the past, it blows over as soon as they find something else to fixate on."
"I thought we weren't dredging up the past?" I snapped. "Last night you acted like bringing up an ex was a capital offense." I held up a hand when he opened his mouth to protest. "It's okay, I get it. You're in charge. You say jump, I say how high. You get to ride the fence and act like what we have is different, special--until you decide that I should just follow the script like all your other little toys.” From the way his eyes were flashing, I knew that I was all but playing with fire, but I couldn’t back down. Not until I said it all. “I’m not some toy. I’m not some ass shot or headline that’ll be forgotten. I’m a real, breathing person...and if-” My voice caught in my throat and I stopped, swallowing before I started again. “When this whole thing between us fizzles out, I won’t have a limitless bank account to fall back on.”
I expected the glacial look on his face to stay the same. Uncaring. Frigid. Instead, it flickered and I watched as the ice melted and his attractive features softened. “Is that how you think I see you? As some toy to be discarded when I get bored?”
I wanted to say no...to say that last night changed everything. But it would be a lie. There was still a part of me that knew that rich or poor, a man that gets skittish whenever you open up is generally someone that isn't looking for something beyond the physical.
And wasn't that the whole point of a contract? To remove all traces that this would be anything other than a business arrangement?
So I looked at him and told him the truth that hurt. "Why wouldn't you? I let you have me in some shady stairwell fifteen minutes after we met. I knew you gave me the job and the promotion because of whatever chemistry we had, then I signed a contract agreeing to be at your sexual service." I felt the tears brim at my eyes, and they punctuated every word. "I have no right to expect anything more of you. You've made it perfectly clear from the beginning that anything more would be a mistake." The tears I'd been struggling to keep at bay broke free and spilled down my cheeks.
He stood there awkwardly, clearly disturbed by my outpouring of emotion and goddamn if that didn't make me cry even harder. "You know what? Just forget I said anything." I turned my back to him and snatched up a fistful of tissues, blotting at my leaking eyes.
"You should go," I sniffled. "There's Rachel's press conference and the junket-"
"No," he cut in, stepping up behind me.
I glanced at him in the mirror for a moment before I looked down. I was embarrassed to have him see me like this. Embarrassed that I let him get close enough to have this effect.
"Rachel can do these things with her eyes closed,” he said hollowly.
I rolled my eyes at that, knowing he spoke the truth. I couldn't help but wish that maybe she woke up this morning with a blemish she couldn't hide or some papparazzo caught her tripping or with her finger up her nose. But she'd be stellar, completely on point--especially when she saw the unflattering pictures of me over her coffee.
I gripped the edge of the vanity, trying to exorcise her from my mind. When I still couldn't see anything but her smug grin I just gave up. Even if I hated her guts, I still had a job to do and not even Rachel Laraby could take that away from me unless I let her.
I straightened my spine and faced Jacob. "I need to get ready for the conference. So do you."
The callous man that had shrugged off my concerns was replaced by one that took both of my hands in his. There were no orders. In fact, he was the one looking to me, trying to show that he would follow my lead.
"Let's just spend the day together. We can go sightseeing."
I faltered. "You would go sightseeing with me?"
He nodded. "Anywhere you want to go."
Yes was on the tip of my tongue. I longed to see St. Mark's Basilica and Teatro La Finice. "So you and I are going to play tourist, while we feed our client to the scandal hungry press?"
"I'm just trying to make you happy, Leila," he said, looking at me intently. "I'm trying to show you that you mean more to me than some headline."
I couldn't stop the warmth from spreading over me at his confession. It wasn't much by normal standards, but for Jacob Whitmore, it was huge. And as much as a day in the city with him by my side would thrill me, I needed to show I was there to do more than sunbathe and museum hop. I was here to do a job.
I nibbled on my lip then dropped it. Say it--even if all you want to do is ask him to cart you away on his white horse.
"If you really want to help me, you'll let me get ready for the conference. We'll support Rachel and make sure it goes off without a hitch."
Disappointment colored his eyes. "You're sure that's what you want?"
I was so far from sure it was ridiculous and I had a feeling Rachel was going to be especially vicious, but I forced a smile. "Of course." When he looked ready to knock me over the head and carry me off like some prehistoric caveman, I insisted. "Let me do the job you hired me for."
He scratched his chin, the faint look of the stubble giving him a warm, lived in look that made me want to take him back to bed. I let out a sigh of relief when he gave me a curt nod and began to pull on his clothing from the day before.
He paused at the door, giving me one last chance. "I guess I'll see you at the venue."
My stomach was in knots, but I pushed away the urge to say the hell with it all. "I'll see you there."
****
The ballroom was packed with reporters buzzing like locusts, their eyes locked on the makeshift stage and the celebrities perched behind it. The dark comedy You and I featured an up and coming actress and even a veteran actor or two, but they weren’t even a blimp on the radar. Question after question was directed at Rachel.
"Ms Laraby, how challenging was the shooting experience so close to your release from Haven Rehabilitation Center?"
Rachel gave the reporter a demure smile. "Shooting a new film is always challenging. Leaving family and friends for an extended period of time, being immersed in the story, falling in love with that story and hoping the viewer falls in love with it too...it is all extremely stressful." She glanced to her right at one of the actors from the movie. "You remember that contest you did the first weekend of shooting? First person to figure out and remember all the names of the cast and crew?"