Late Call (Volume 1) (25 page)

Aaron’s waiting for me when I enter the suite with an almost bashful look on his face. I raise my eyebrows and head straight into the bedroom without speaking a word to him. I know he follows—and I don’t care.

A long, strapless black dress is laid out on the bed. It’s one of mine. I fight the urge to roll my eyes at his presumptuous nature and drop my bag next to my suitcase.

“Are you going to ignore me?”

“Are you going to talk to me like I deserve to be spoken to, or am I still your outlet for your annoyance?”

He folds me into his arms and breathes in deeply, burying his face in my hair. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was wrong to take it out on you.”

“Fucking right you were.” I wrap my arms around his waist and lay my head on his chest. “Don’t do it again.”

“Ever?”

“
Ever
. Next time I won’t be so nice to you, nor will I walk away. Talk to me like crap again, Mr. Stone, and I’m going to tear you a new asshole. Got it?”

He bends his face into mine with a smile playing on his lips. “Got it.” He takes my mouth with his.

“Are you going to tell me who has you in a bad mood yet?” I pull away and change. His eyes rove over me as I change from my sports bra to a blue lace one.

“Someone from my past who delights in making my life incredibly hard.” He discards his shirt and pulls a new one on. “If there were a way to get out of this tonight, you can bet I’d find it.”

“Wow. I can’t imagine disliking someone that much.” I step into the dress and reach around to pull up the zipper. “Who is it?”

Aaron doesn’t say a word as he knocks my hand away and does the zipper for me. He rests his forehead against the back of my shoulder, his fingers still clasped on the pull, and exhales loudly.

“Aaron?”

“The person organizing tonight is my wife.”

I jump away from him as if his touch is burning me. And it is. So are his words.

Did he…

Was that…

“Wife?”

There’s no mistaking the accusatory tone in my whisper or the way my hands are now clasped against my stomach, shaking frantically. Holy fucking hell.

“Yes.”

I feel sick.

I clap my hand over my mouth and turn away from him. Betrayal slices through my body, leaving no part untouched by the overwhelming sting.

“She’s my ex-wife, actually. We’d be divorced if she didn’t keep stalling on the agreement.”

“You’re still married. She’s still your wife.” Oh god.

“We’ve been separated for two years.”

I shake my head. Bile is rising up my throat. I fight to swallow it back down, to kill the sick feeling in my stomach.

“And you never thought to tell me?”

“I didn’t know how to. I kept putting it off until it became impossible. I wanted to, Day.” He rests his hands on my arms, and I flinch, stepping back.

“Don’t you dare touch me.” I rub the places his hands were like I can wipe away the pain they’ve left behind. “Don’t you fucking dare stand there in front of me and try and justify this. Shit, Aaron. You’re married! Fucking
married
!”

What he said on the boat comes back to me and hits me with the force of a freight train. Everything… About sitting his wife down to work it out… Not going elsewhere…
It was all a great big pile of shit.

“Didn’t she sit still long enough for you to work your shit out, huh? So much for making sure you’d work it out. Fuck!” I fist my hair and spin. “All that was a lie, wasn’t it? How much more has been a lie? How many more lines have you said that actually mean fucking nothing?”

“Our marriage was a sham, Dayton. Naomi cares for nothing but money and fame. She was an up-and-coming model struggling to break into the industry. I met her one night at college and could see her potential, so I gave her the in. I set her up with one of our agents, and she was…thankful.” He scrubs across his forehead.

“I bet she was.”

“We started seeing each other casually, and every time I went to break it off, my father’s assistant convinced me it was good for us to be together because of our profiles. Our ‘relationship’ was no secret, and she was always being hit with the fact that she’d only made it because of me.”

“She did!”

“We both knew that. I was a buffer for that. I claimed we met after she signed with our agency and that was that.”

“And you woke up one morning and decided to marry her, right? Because it was the ‘right’ thing to do?” I raise my eyebrows and walk across the room.

“It didn’t work out. After eight months, we separated. I’ve been fighting her for two years. She’s not entitled to half of everything I own, but she won’t take what I am offering. There’s a reason I don’t own the company on paper yet.”

Of course. There had to be a reason. And it had to be a wife, didn’t it? It couldn’t be a financial fuck-up or a contractual issue. It had to be a fucking wife.

“I can’t even look at you right now. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about her. How couldn’t you tell me, Aaron? Did it not ever cross your mind while you were watching me sleep or pouring me coffee to tell me? How about when you were kissing me or fucking me? Or when you were writing little fucking notes and hiding them?!”

He meets my eyes and I see the pain in them. Guilt and pain and heartbreak. Good. I hope his heart is being torn apart by razor-sharp claws. Mine certainly is.

“I was so scared to lose you, Day. So scared that if I told you, you’d get up and walk and that would be that.”

“So you thought you’d ignore it and she’d go away eventually? That I’d never find out? Even when you were begging me to move in with you—did you really think then that you’d never have to tell me?” I close my eyes and press my fingers into them. I’m not going to cry. Not over this.

“I hoped I could call my lawyer and give her what she wants from our marriage. My money. Then yes, I hoped she’d go away. I had no idea she was in France right now. If I did, I never would have brought us here.”

“What a nice surprise that was. No wonder you couldn’t tell me this morning.” My heart is racing. I don’t know if I’ve even comprehended this yet—that he has a wife. An ex-wife, but a wife. Until the papers are signed, there’s no ex about it.

I can’t comprehend anything past the sick knot in my stomach, the agony in my chest. The sting of betrayal that just keeps getting sharper.

“I’m so sorry, Dayton. If you had to find out, it never should have been like this. I’m so sorry.”

“Believe me, Aaron. You’re not half as sorry as I am.” I walk into the bathroom and splash cold water over my face. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes aren’t swollen and my cheeks are puffy. My lips aren’t chapped. No one would look at me and think I’d just had the shock of my fucking life.

So I can see the tears lurking in the corners of my eyes. They aren’t going anywhere.

Aaron walks in just as I pick up my makeup brush. “What are you doing?”

I meet his eyes in the mirror. I know the exact moment it happens. The moment I slink into Mia. “I have a contractual obligation to fill. I’ll be there with you tonight, but I’m leaving right after.”

He draws in a sharp breath.

“You’ll be refunded for the final two weeks that will be unfulfilled. Then you will wipe my agent’s number from your phone and not contact her again. I’ll be changing mine when I’m back in Seattle.”

“Day, please—”

“My other option is leaving right now and letting your wife know she’s got between us. I’ll leave late tonight and use the company plane. This way you can tell everyone I had a family emergency and had to return home immediately.” I pause to brush some lipstick on before turning to him. “We both have reputations to protect, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

He slams the bedroom door shut behind him as I walk into the kitchen and buttons his shirt in the middle of the main room. “Don’t look at me with Mia’s eyes.”

I take a deep breath and pour a glass of wine. My lipstick leaves a red lip print on the rim of the glass, and I slowly turn to him. When I do, his jacket is on and his tie around his neck.

“I’m doing my job, Aaron. You’re my client. That’s it.”

I’ve been Mia thousands of times in my life. I’ve buried the real me beneath layers of masquerade and no one has been any wiser. I’ve hidden every part of me you can imagine, including emotions.

Mia feels what she has to. She smiles at all the right times, laughs at all the right lines, and feigns annoyance at all the right moments.

My life is a charade. I have control but I never really get to pull the strings. I’m always acting under someone else’s orders. I’m always fulfilling someone else’s wishes. Living someone else’s dreams.

I accept that. I have to. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have this job. I’d be flipping burgers or smiling politely at snobby women in a high-end boutique somewhere.

I hide. I pretend. I lie.

My life is a lie.

It’s full of cheating and things that mean nothing.

I always live for the other side of it. When I’m Dayton, I wish I could be Mia—confident and outgoing and out there. When I’m Mia, I wish I could be Dayton—curled up in my pajamas with a tub of ice cream in front of the television, laughing with my best friend.

Either way, I’m not completely happy.

The last few weeks have changed that. Being with Aaron again reminded me of everything I’d left behind. He reminded me what it is to look into the eyes of someone who cares and smile. What it is to feel red-hot desire rushing through your veins and to feel that desire aimed straight back at you.

He reminded me how to love and be loved.

He also reminded me why I shouldn’t believe in love.

And the skinny blond woman walking toward us with her lips curved in an evil smirk is the reason why. Naomi Lane, married name Stone. She’s everything I’m not, and the Prada woman’s words make sense.

We’re polar opposites. She’s light and a size zero. I’m dark and a comfy size six.

We couldn’t be more different.

“Aaron! How lovely for you to clear your schedule for tonight.” She kisses his cheek, an action I notice he doesn’t return.

“I believe I had no choice,” he responds dryly. “Dayton, this is Naomi. My ex-wife.”

Those words punch me in the stomach. Gut wrenching isn’t even strong enough to describe it. More like stomach twisting, nausea inducing, heart clawing.

“Naomi, my girlfriend, Dayton.”

“Oh, I’ve heard so much about you!” She fakes a smile and leans forward to air kiss me. It takes everything I have, but I return the gesture.
I’m not Dayton. I’m Mia. I’m strong.

“Really? I can’t say I’ve heard very much about you at all. A few passing comments, maybe.”

She blinks. “Oh. I suppose Aaron’s been very busy with taking over the company and you haven’t had much time to talk.”

“Oh, we’ve had plenty of time to talk…among other things…but you just never came up.” I smile.

Her jaw tightens and she turns light brown eyes on Aaron. “And how is the change going?”

“The contracts are locked in the lawyer’s desk, waiting for the day our divorce papers land there.” Aaron’s fingers twitch at my side. “We can all hope that will be soon.”

“Oh, darling. You’re being unreasonable in your agreement. Can’t we just discuss it?”

“Naomi, you made a point by organizing this tonight. If you found out I’m here, I’m sure you’re aware I’m not working this week. I don’t wish to discuss anything with you. I’m not paying two lawyers so we can sit and have coffee to iron out your ridiculous terms.”

“Aaron, honey.” I flatten my hand against his stomach. “Shall we get a drink? I don’t think this is the place to be discussing this.”

He takes a deep breath and kisses the top of my head. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

We cross the room to the bar, and aware of her eyes still on us, I try not to move away from him like I want to.

“You handled her well,” Aaron says softly.

“Nothing like letting the woman your boyfriend is married to think you don’t care.” I run my tongue along my bottom lip and take a long drink from my wine glass. “She’s a bitch, by the way. You picked a real good one there.”

I’m fighting inside myself. This was a stupid idea—coming here and pretending my heart isn’t shattering inside me with each word. Pretending I can stand in front of her and not give a fuck she’s married to the man I love so wholly.

I reach inside my purse and grab my silenced cell. “Excuse me. I have a call.”

Understanding flashes in his eyes, and he shoots from his seat just as quickly as I do. I make a show of walking through the room, my finger in my ear, my lips parting in shock. Aaron follows me the whole time I act my charade. I talk trash into the silent phone until I reach the elevator.

I jab the doors shut before he can enter. My chest heaves. I swallow back a lump of emotion and lock myself in the suite, tearing my dress from my body.

I grab the room phone and call down to the concierge, walking through the suite in my underwear, gathering my things.

“Concierge desk.”

“This is Miss Black, from the presidential suite. I have a family emergency and have to leave immediately. Can you call for a porter to remove my bags and a car to take me to the Charles de Gaulle airport in ten minutes?”

“Of course,
mademoiselle
. Is
Monsieur
Stone aware of your departure?”

My eyes lock with a pair of tortured blue eyes as he crashes through the door.

“Yes,” I say into the phone. “He’s aware.”

I put it down and throw a dress over my head, still aimlessly throwing my things in my suitcases.

“Don’t go,” Aaron whispers. “Please. Don’t go.”

“I don’t have a choice.” I zip the cases one by one. “If you’d told me before, maybe I could have dealt with it. But to tell me an hour before you expect me to stand face to face to her? No way, Aaron. No way.”

“Dayton. Please.” He strides forward and cups my face, bringing his forehead to mine. “Please. Just one night. Let me explain everything. Just don’t leave me again.”