CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
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JAMES
Two Months Later
“Why should I go to this party? I’m flying tomorrow to be with Emma’s family.” I wanted to give her a surprise during the holidays, and this was going to ruin it. The last couple of months had been the busiest in a long time. Between work, appearances, and interviews, I hadn’t had the chance to breathe, and desperately needed to have some time off.
Michael took in a big breath. I knew he was running out of patience, but I just could not be bothered going anywhere, let alone having to endure drunk people wearing daft reindeer antlers or Santa hats as they sang out of tune. I wasn’t a Grinch. A year ago, I was one of those annoying folk. I would’ve dropped everything to have a chance to go out, but now it was different. I just wanted to take it easy. Maybe it was a sign of getting older, or maybe I just couldn’t be bothered enduring the party of a rich, trust-fund kid, who thought this was the most important thing ever.
“Because it’s what we agreed and it’s part of your contract,” Michael said.
He was right. That was how it worked, and it made my blood boil. But after all, it was my job.
“I’ve already sent everyone away,” I said, pacing through the empty room.
I was looking forward to a quiet night watching reruns of The Sopranos.
“I’ll sort it out, just be ready in an hour,” Michael said with a huff.
I prepped myself. It was only for a couple hours. Show face, and then get back home for an early night.
An hour later, just as Michael said, the bell rang and a tall man stood behind it. He must have been told he had to wear a suit because he looked uncomfortable in it, which made me think that must be his suit for funerals, or by the look of him, court. He introduced himself as Anthony with a gruff smoker’s voice. His height and size took me off guard. Once we shook hands, he mentioned he came from the agency and was instructed to drive me to the club.
He didn’t bother coming in the flat. He stood at the doorway and took me in, his eyes examining my posture, my clothes, everything about me. His face was a touch smug. I felt as if we were in the jungle and he was assessing who was the alpha male.
“Are you ready?” he finally said.
“Yes, I’ll get my keys.”
Without waiting, he turned his back to me and walked to the elevator. That, I found irritating. Who did he think he was?
The words “It’s just one night,” became my mantra. The next morning, I would wake up and not have to see this douchebag again.
The club was the same one every year. It was in the centre of Manhattan and riddled with paparazzi. Hundreds of people were queuing, trying to get in with the hope of bumping into someone famous. The place itself wasn’t that special, overcrowded with a house DJ who thought he made the night. The VIP section wasn’t much better, and even though I had never paid for the drinks myself, I’d heard they were overpriced. I sat at an empty table hidden in a dark corner and fiddled with the cork of the bottle of champagne that was in an ice bucket.
“Straight for the drink, aren’t we, James?”
Jane slumped on one of the velvet sofas that circled around the table. She looked good, her hair cut pixie short, and she wore black jeans with a golden top and no bra. She wasn’t what I would call well-endowed, but she still made heads turn. She wasn’t my type, although it hadn’t stopped me from cupping them behind the scenes a couple of times. She didn’t mind. She was in the same boat as me. The way we saw it, we were a couple of good-looking people doing what our bodies were meant to do. That was in the past; I really didn’t want it in my future.
“You know me too well, Jane,” I said and poured the golden liquid into the glasses. “You have to be drunk to appreciate this music.”
“It’s not that bad,” she said after taking a sip.
She lifted her leg, caressing mine with the tip of her heel. She smiled coquettishly, the tip of her shoe reaching my crotch.
I moved away, at least I tried to. Her sudden attention made me feel uncomfortable, but my traitorous body reacted by standing to attention, like a soldier ready to fight.
I knew we were pretending to be together, but it still felt so wrong. Somehow, it felt like I was cheating on Emma.
“You seem happy to see me,” she said.
Getting up, she came to sit on me, straddling me, her hands running through my hair as her teeth took a small bite of my lips. Her body slowly moving, dancing on top of me, rubbing against me, making my heart beat faster and my inhibitions melt away like butter.
I wasn’t expecting to spend my night this way. My body begged for her tongue to slip back in my mouth, for her hands to find their way back to my skin, and for her breasts to press against my chest. But as I closed my eyes, every inch of my body reacting to her touch, I only saw Emma’s face, her lips and her eyes.
“Oh my God, Emma!” I whispered as Jane’s lips explored my neck.
It was then that I realised I wasn’t kissing Emma’s rosebud lips, or touching her pearly white skin—and so did Jane, who sat up straight and looked at me.
“Well, that’s new?” she said, breathless.
“Shit, I’m so sorry, Jane.” I lifted her off my lap and set her beside me.
“Is she the reason why this”—she pointed at both of us—“isn’t real?”
I nodded.
“I understand,” she said. “Can’t say I’m not disappointed, but she must be important enough for you to stop me.” She winked and placed her hand on my thigh.
I moved her hand away and stood. Before I left, I looked directly at her. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore.”
It wasn’t until the next morning, waiting to board my flight, that I noticed the headlines. The deed was done, and it didn’t matter that I’d stopped it before it went too far. Someone had seen, and that someone had a field day taking photographs.
JnJ looking very cosy at a party before Christmas Eve.
Is this the reason we haven’t seen much of them? Is there something they’re not telling us?
Right underneath there was a picture of Jane sitting on my lap, her hands in my hair and her top hitched up, showing her skin. It was so close-up you could almost see our tongues.
It had been that moment when kissing Jane that I’d known for sure what I felt for Emma.
“I take it you’ve read the headlines,” I asked, as soon as I saw Michael’s name flash on my cell.
“How could I miss them? They’re everywhere.”
“I know, and so’s the same photograph.”
I picked up the magazine someone had left on a seat and threw it with as much force as possible. It didn’t make me feel any better.
“Don’t sound so defeated. This is a good thing,” he said, his voice chirpier than usual.
“How can this be any good?” I said, my teeth meeting my nails for the tenth time that day.
“Why not? Enlighten me, because as far as I remember, this is what you wanted.” He took a big breath and continued, “What’s the difference from the other photos?”
“I wasn’t kissing her or touching her. This photo confirms that we’re a couple when we aren’t.”
“James, no it doesn’t. Is this because of that chick?”
I bit back my growl, hating the idea of anyone dismissing Emma. “Yes.” My voice was hard. “It’s because of Emma,” I answered.
I hoped he would understand. He knew how much she meant to me.
“Come on, James. Be realistic. She lives in Scotland. You live in the US. Besides, there’s nothing going between you two, right?”
“Right.”
I clenched my fist, trying to suppress the need to punch something. The whole situation seemed ludicrous.
He took a while to continue, waiting for me to cool down and get my thoughts together, and said, “Just keep it that way, okay? Until this is over.”
For God’s sake, Michael was right. I was making too big a deal about this. I hadn’t even kissed Emma yet. As far as she knew, we were old friends regaining acquaintanceship.
“Hey, before I forget. How did the new guy get on?” Michael asked.
“Anthony? He seemed a bit full of himself.”
Michael laughed. “What, like you?”
“That’s not funny. But seriously, what’s his problem?” I really wanted to know.
“Nothing, he’s a man of few words but completely harmless.”
More like an arse who deserved a lesson, but I kept that to myself.