Final Call (The Call #2) (14 page)

I stare after him, and
Tyler flicks a switch behind me.

“Fuck that. I’m not
taking a woman to dinner on his card.”

I turn.

“If I take you for
dinner, I’m paying. He just wants to make me look like some cheap
bastard.”

“What is it with you
men? Women are perfectly capable of buying themselves—and a
man—dinner.” I sit at the table in the center of the room and nod
when he points to the coffee machine. “Please. Black.”

“Jet lag is a bitch.”
He puts some beans and water in the machine and starts it. “And
it’s not that we don’t think you’re capable of buying your own
dinner. You just shouldn’t.”

“Really? We
shouldn’t
?”

“Day—I can call you
that, right? Cool.” He continues before I respond. “Look at us.
Aaron runs a multimillion-dollar company, and I’m the technical
heir to another. He breathes tailored Armani suits, and I live and
die in my designer jeans. If either of us took you to dinner and
you paid, we’d look like nothing more than trophy husbands.”

I raise my eyebrows as
he places a mug of coffee in front of me. “Are you saying I look
old?”

“No. Fuck no. Shit.” He
rubs his hand down his face. “You’re fucking gorgeous, and I have
no problem saying so. Trust me, if you weren’t my cousin’s
girlfriend, I wouldn’t be serving you coffee on this table. I’d be
serving you me.”

“Apparently subtle
isn’t a word in the vocabulary of the Stone men.”

“Not in mine, love.
Cookie?” He thrusts the package in my face, and I take two.
“Finally. A woman who will eat something I wouldn’t feed to a
rabbit.”

“That’s what happens
when you sleep with models.” I take a bite and wipe crumbs from the
table.

“Don’t forget the
gold-diggers with pussies bigger than my wallet. They’re even
worse.”

I pause for a moment,
staring at the man in front of me. “This conversation is perhaps a
little too personal for a first meeting.”

Tyler’s lips twist in
amusement. “If you can’t get personal on a first meeting, you’re
definitely not the kind of girl to be sitting in my kitchen.”

The irony of that
statement isn’t lost on me, and my lips twist. If only he knew just
how many personal first meetings I’ve had in my life.

“And I believe that
sentence tells me everything I need to know about you, Tyler
Stone.”

He grins wolfishly,
mischief twinkling in his dark eyes. “You’re a smart woman, Dayton.
What are you doing with my cousin?”

“That is a very good
question.”

Chapter
Twelve

The look on Tyler’s
face when I told him I wanted to see Buckingham Palace was
hilarious. It was a cross between exasperation and
helplessness.

I promised myself years
ago that, if I ever got to London, the palace would be the first
place I visited. Now, sitting in the back of a black cab and
driving to Tyler’s favorite restaurant for an early dinner, I’m
glad I saw it.

And despite his initial
grumbling, Tyler didn’t exactly hate trying to make a guard
laugh.

“One of those hats
would suit me. What do you think?”

I look across the car
at him and shake my head. “Really? No.”

He pouts. “I’m not sure
I know what to do with a woman who doesn’t fall at my feet.”

“You act like a
gentleman.”

“Is that what they do
nowadays? Bloody hell. I’m not a door-opening kind of guy. Unless
it’s to my bedroom, of course. Then I’m as close to a gentleman as
they come—if you ignore the rough bits around the edges.” He winks
and hands the driver some money, telling him to keep the
change.

I rest my hand on the
door handle, but he shakes his head and jumps from the car. My
eyebrows shoot up, and he appears at my window a second later with
a cocky smile on his face. I shake my head when he opens the door
and holds out his hand.

“M’lady.”

I laugh and take it,
stepping from the car. “You’re an idiot, Tyler.”

“I’m being a gentleman.
Aaron would hold good on his threat to render my cock useless if I
were anything less than one. And”—he pauses as he opens the
restaurant door—“I have to admit to being rather attached to
it.”

We’re immediately led
to a table when the host recognizes Tyler. But not just any
table—the best available table. It hits me now that, despite his
relaxed, carefree attitude, Tyler is in London what Aaron is in
Seattle. Well-known. Respected. The upper class.

Our drinks are served
within a minute of us taking our seats, and there’s no great long
wait for food like I’m seeing for some others. There’s a mix of
both familiar and unfamiliar faces here—the familiar ones being
people I’ve seen on the insides of glossy magazines and once or
twice on television.

Holy shit. London is
the British L.A. It’s celebrity central in this place.

I somehow manage to
make it through dinner without drooling over my plate. Tyler sits
opposite me, completely unaffected.

My job has taken me to
places I never imagined I’d visit and introduced me to people with
a standing so high I shouldn’t rightfully be alongside them, but
there’s rich and then there’s
rich.

Watching Aaron’s cousin
so at home in this obviously exclusive restaurant, I know what
bracket he and Aaron fall in.

Stinking fucking
rich.

I know Naomi said that
Aaron would be the one to tip the business over the billion-dollar
mark, but I don’t think it sank in. I don’t think it’s hit me until
now how much money he really does have.

How dangerous it could
be if the knowledge of who I am, who I
was
, was made
public.

“Dayton?” Tyler waves
his hand in front of my face. “Are you okay?”

I blink harshly and
turn to him. “Yes. Sorry. I was just thinking for a moment.”

“Would you like
pudding, or…?”

“I’ll have a dessert.”
Aaron sits on the seat next to me and adjusts his tie. “I’m
starving.”

“Well, hello.” I shift
my body so I’m facing him. “How did you know we were here?”

“I’m Aaron Stone. I can
find out anything.” He winks and grabs the menu. “Has Tyler been
behaving himself?”

I wink across the table
at the man in question. “He’s been a real gentleman. Even opened
doors for me.”

“Is he sick?”

“If we weren’t in such
an exclusive establishment, I’d have a few choice words for you,”
Tyler retorts. “And I’m perfectly healthy, thank you.”

“Perhaps there’s hope
for you yet, my man.” Aaron turns to me. “I think I’ll have the
chocolate fudge cake. What about you?”

“I’ll have the
same.”

“Ty?”

“Not for me. I’m going
to end my dry spell.” He stands and brushes his shirt off.

“Dry spell.” Aaron
snorts. “Forty-eight hours?”

“Thirty-six. I’m never
going the extra twelve again.” He motions to a waiter. “I likely
won’t be back home tonight.”

“Don’t forget you have
a shoot tomorrow,” Aaron looks up at him.

“Lingerie, isn’t it?
With Jenna Kelly?”

Aaron nods. “For
Catalina. In the office studios.”

“Shit. I hate shooting
in those. I’m sending in my own lights this time. Last time, we had
to rebook.” Tyler runs his hand through his messy hair and looks to
me. “Wanna tag along?”

“Am I allowed?” I look
between them both.

“You’re the boss’s
girlfriend. You can do whatever the hell you want,” Tyler
answers.

Aaron smirks. “You can
if you want to. I’m working all day.”

I narrow my eyes and
tap his arm. “Is this a setup? The last time I went to a shoot, I
ended up
being
shot.”

“Photographically, I
hope.” Tyler laughs. “No setup. I promise.”

“Sure. I’ll go.”

“I’ll pick you up at
ten.” He takes his jacket from the waiter. “See ya.”

Aaron orders our
desserts and places his hand over mine on the table. With his
other, he pours me a glass of wine and accepts the whisky he’s
offered. His thumb slowly rubs along the side of my wrist, tickling
the tender skin there, and when I look up, his eyes are on
mine.

“What?” I ask
softly.

“How do you manage to
look so beautiful when you’re barely wearing any makeup?”

“Your mind is blurred
by all the models you’ve seen parading before you today.”

He leans into me and
runs his nose up my cheek. “And every single time, I was wishing it
were you.”

“I know where this is
going.”

“You considered it
before. Will you again?”

I pull back and suck my
bottom lip into my mouth. I did. I would. I have. I can’t. Our
dessert is placed between us with two forks, and Aaron nods his
thanks.

I take my hand from his
and grab a fork, stabbing it into the cake. This is too soon to
have this conversation. It’s too soon to have any kind of
conversation about anything past right now.

I forgive him, but I
don’t know if I fully trust him. And this is the funny thing about
trust. You can love and forgive, but you don’t necessarily trust.
Broken hearts and promises can be fixed so easily because they
break in a different way than trust. When trust is broken, it’s
shattered into a thousand pieces. And sometimes, it’s never put
back together the same way.

Aaron takes the fork
from me, resting it in the bowl, and sighs. “Dayton.”

“We’re not having this
conversation. Not here and not now. If I decide to leave Monique,
we’ll discuss this.”

“It really doesn’t
matter to me if you leave her or not. You’ll belong to me either
way.”

I look into his eyes,
forceful and determined. “Aaron, I’m not going to say this again.
Working for you isn’t something I think I can comprehend. I don’t
want to be the girl who got an ‘in’ because she’s fucking the boss.
If I ever decide I want to model, I’ll do it because it’s my
decision, and I’ll carry the weight of it on my own shoulders. I
won’t roll over and be signed by you just because I can be.”

“You want to prove
yourself.” He brings the cake-laden fork to my mouth, and I open my
mouth.

I nod and swallow the
cake. “For me.”

“I understand that.” He
takes a bite himself. “But for the record, Day, you’re not fucking
the boss. You’re in a serious relationship with him. There’s a very
big difference, sweetheart.”

“The level of our
relationship depends on your ability to prove yourself to me.” I
swallow the bitterness of my own secret down, my whole body
screaming at my hypocrisy. “There’s a long way to go, baby.”

He puts another forkful
of cake in my mouth and follows it up by covering my lips with his.
I pull back, swallow my mouthful, and tilt my face back for his
kiss. His lips are sweet and woody at the same time, the chocolate
fudge sauce mingling with the whisky in a strangely alluring and
delicious mix.

“Can I show you
something?”

“We’ve been here
before.”

He smiles. The waiter
appears and Aaron hands him his card without glancing at the bill.
I choose not to look at the slip of paper on the table. I’d
probably have a heart attack.

“Trust me,” he
whispers, pulling me to standing and wrapping my cardigan around my
shoulders.

“Honestly?” I look up
at him. “That’s what I’m a little afraid of.”

His eyes flash with
another indiscernible emotion. He swallows, taking his card from
the waiter with a nod, and then he leads me outside. A sleek black
car pulls up and Aaron opens the door, guiding me in.

“To Soho.” His words
are short and sharp, and I can hear the underlying pain in them. My
stomach twists.

How can I do this to
him when I’m no better? Fuck. Guilt riddles my body, and this is by
far the most fucked-up situation I’ve been in for a long time.

I open my mouth but no
words come out. Not even a squeak.

We travel in silence.
The twenty-minute journey across London is coated in tension and
regret and a tinge of heartbreak sneaking its way through.

What am I doing?

Aaron doesn’t look at
me when the car stops and he helps me out. He links his fingers
through mine and leads me through several streets. The heavy air is
still hanging between us, but when we stop, his words slice through
it.

“You want to prove
yourself?”

I nod slightly,
narrowing my eyes.

“Walk around that
corner, look at the billboard, and tell me you don’t see a woman
who has proven herself.”

“What?”

He motions to the
corner. I look between him and the street uncertainly. People mill
around us, completely unaware of the turmoil surrounding us and
seeping in.

I swallow hard and take
the few steps around the corner. We’re the first thing I see. My
hand on his waist. His at my jaw. My head tilted back. My lips
parted. His eyes boring into mine. The gorgeous Australian
background.

Aaron rests his hands
on my waist. “I see a woman who’s already proven herself. I see a
woman so worried about what the rest of the world thinks that she’s
afraid to take the step her heart really wants to. I see a woman
held back by an irrational fear she doesn’t know she possesses. But
most of all, I see a beautiful woman standing in front of and in
the arms of the man who would burn bridges and build cities if
that’s what it took to make her happy.”

I blink several times
as the tears build in my eyes. Aaron spins me in his arms and cups
my cheek with his palm, brushing his thumb across my temple.

“I own a
multimillion-dollar company, Dayton, but I’m not rich. I could buy
anything I wanted without blinking, without seeing the dent in any
one of my bank accounts. I could buy another company if I wanted.
Another car. Another plane. A whole estate of houses. I could buy
an island if I truly desired, but I’m not rich. The one thing that
would make me rich, I can’t buy. Unless I have your love, given
freely and wholeheartedly, I’m just as poor as the man you see on
the corner of the street. All I can do is buy the time to convince
you that I’m worth it. That we’re worth it. I can use that time to
make you believe in us. To trust in us.” He brings his forehead to
mine. “And I truly won’t stop until you do. I won’t stop fighting
until you’re standing in front of me and telling me you love me
with everything you are and you give that to me.”