CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
JORDAN
I wiped the tears from my eyes, but they just pooled with water again! I fanned myself over and over again, then reapplied my waterproof mascara.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
I kicked the tiny metal trash can in the corner, then crossed my arms as my body convulsed with hurt.
A bet.
I was part of bet between the millionaires. How stupid could I be? I never saw it coming, maybe because Reid really is that great of an actor.
I could get over that part, if he maybe explained to me the reasons behind it.
But when Max asked him about us and he didn’t say anything? He made it sound like I was a conquest.
And that there were no feelings behind our night together.
I’d heard the entire conversation. I wasn’t one of those girls who got so hurt she ran off before she heard the guy defend himself or defend her. Read that book, watched that movie.
So like an idiot, I stood in the hallway and waited in painful silence. I waited for Reid to correct himself. I waited for him to say something romantic. I waited for him to defend our relationship.
I waited and I waited.
And he made a joke about owing me breakfast.
And that was it.
There was no admission of feelings.
There was nothing.
By then, tears were streaming down my face, and I had no choice but to pretend like I was showering when really I was bawling my eyes out and trying to calm myself down.
He was a lying bastard. A lying, cheating, horrible, bastard son of a bitch! I had a very vivid daydream about stabbing him with my hair pick but knew the plastic wouldn’t do the damage he deserved. Plus, kicking him in the balls seemed like a more painful option.
But the problem?
He was my client.
Still my client.
I needed him.
He needed me.
I gripped the countertop. “You can do this,” I said to my reflection. “You’re a professional. Act like it.”
That was my pep talk.
Over the next hour, I chatted with Max and Reid like there was nothing wrong. But when Reid touched me, or put his hand on my thigh, it took every ounce of strength I had not to stab him with my fork.
Or just burst into tears.
For one night.
Twelve hours.
I hadn’t been invisible anymore.
And it had been the best twelve hours of my life. The sexiest man I’d ever seen was kissing me, holding me, loving me. And I felt it—what other people probably feel on a daily basis.
Wanted.
Desired.
Visible.
He wanted my eyes open, he wanted me to be present, he said, and I was, I was so present.
The sick part? I wouldn’t take it back. Even knowing what I knew . . . because even though he was a horrible human being to use me in that way, he still gave me a gift.
It wasn’t the sex.
Or even the way he touched me.
It was the way he looked at me, for just one brief moment in my existence, like maybe I wasn’t the girl the guy passed over, but the one he searched for.
“Hey, you okay?” Reid nudged me once we found our seats on the plane. I’d just spent the last ten minutes smiling through my teeth while cameras flashed in our direction and the paparazzi asked if the wedding speculation was true.
“Yeah.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Just really tired, long night.” My smile was weak.
“You can lean on me,” Reid offered as he put an arm around my shoulder.
“Nah.” I fake yawned. “It’s okay. I’ll probably drool or something equally embarrassing. Why don’t you check your e-mails and make sure everything’s good for postproduction this next week? I think you got all your shots in last week, but hey, you never know.”
“Work,” Reid said slowly. “You want me to work?”
“I’m sleeping.” I shrugged. “What else is there to do?”
His eyes heated.
I quickly looked down and yawned again. “Well, night.”
“Jordan—”
“Dude.” Max turned around in his seat. “Dad’s thrilled his eldest finally grew up. All’s well that ends well. The ruse is up. Thank God. I’m locking Becca in the apartment tonight. P.S. Wear the earplugs I gave you.”
Becca let out a snort. “Sorry to burst your bubble.”
“No!” Max shouted. “There will be no bursting of any kind!”
“But,” Becca laughed, “I promised my mom when we got back I’d spend the night at their house and go over bridal shower ideas. And she hasn’t seen me in a few weeks because of school.”
Max was silent.
I heard them kissing, but kept my eyes closed.
“Fine,” Max grumbled. “But tomorrow night, you’re mine.”
“Deal.”
More kissing.
It was nauseating.
Sort of.
I clenched my eyes shut.
“Out like a light, huh?” Max commented.
Reid sighed. “Like I said, it was a long night, no wonder she’s tired.”
“Yeah, well,” Max sighed, “At least someone had a good night. Oh, also, I looked into that new complex that we acquired in Chelsea. There are a few openings, still want me to move her stuff out?”
My stomach sank. What the hellfire? When did Reid decide he was going to pack me up and ship me out?
“Yeah.” Reid nodded. “It’s probably for the best. Her stuff is shit anyways, you know? I can’t imagine her wanting any of it, but just in case.”
Rage pumped through every blood vessel in my body. It was like he was a completely different person.
“All right.” Max sighed. “Maybe you should tell her?”
“Nah, it will be a surprise.”
A surprise? Was he high!
The rest of the plane ride, I stewed like a woman scorned. He’d slept with me, made some sort of archaic wager with his brother over being able to stay in a relationship—and let’s be honest, a week is so not a relationship—and now he was kicking me out, and what? He’s just going to say, “Surprise!” when the guest room is packed up and my pillows are already in my new apartment?
He’s probably going to want me to thank him.
Like hell.
I kept choking on the lump in my throat as stupid tears stung the back of my eyes. I would not cry.
Not in front of him.
He didn’t deserve the tears.
Or the ego kick he’d get at seeing how hung up I really was on him. Good thing I wasn’t in love with him.
Good thing.
My heart pounded painfully against my chest.
Yup. Good thing I wasn’t in love.