Reservation (Preservation Series), page 10
I swallowed the lump in my throat, growing more and more infuriated by the second. He decided? Without even thinking to ask if I’d be okay with this?
“What about all the ‘we can’t do anything without your permission’ crap? What about consent and always having a choice? Guess that was all bullshit, too?”
“Ryan, come on, I’m hardly swindling you, here. Nothing I’m asking you to do tonight is damaging to your image, and you do have a choice. You can walk out that door right now if you want. We’re not holding you hostage. You’re dating Melanie Carpenter for the evening. I guarantee you you’ll be envied by 95 percent of the guests this evening. Show a little gratitude, ay?”
“I don’t give a shit who envies me, Danny. I’m engaged, and I won’t be seen with anyone else.”
For the first time since I’d met Danny, his easy, amused facade seemed to crack, giving way to a hint of irritation. Good. He should be irritated. “This is where you trust my judgment, remember? The media needs something to pounce on since the brunette’s pregnancy claim fizzled out. At first, keeping you dateless so you appeared free and available was ideal, but it was brought to my attention that we needed something else to maintain interest. With Melanie on your arm, you not only generate interest, but you still play the part. The public needs to see you dating, but not in a relationship. I never promised not to bullshit you—I promised not to bullshit you when it came to looking out for your image. I promised I would do my job and keep the public interested in you and your work, and that I’d never coddle you. Well, consider this me keeping my promise. You need a date tonight. People need to see you as the desirable, bachelor playboy you were not long ago at that university of yours, so they’ll forget all about Little Miss Anders and her non-existent child. The quicker they forget her face and see you with someone else, the sooner we can shape the impression they have of you. It’s called damage control. They want to swoon over you right now, not hate you for being a scumbag who uses women and ditches them after you knock them up.”
“I never knocked anyone up, for fuck’s sake!”
“Whatever. There will come a time when having the public hate you will be beneficial to you. But now is not that time. So just suck it up for the evening and enjoy the view, will you?” He gestured to Melanie’s cleavage, which was pouring over the plunging neckline of her dress.
The elevator doors slid open and we were greeted by a slew of party attendants, event planners, and guests, then quickly ushered out into the crowd. Melanie slipped her arm through mine and maintained a vice-like grip as we strolled forward, as if she knew I was ready to cut and run. This woman was gorgeous, no doubt about it, but I didn’t want her hanging on me.
I leaned in to speak to her. “Will you excuse me? I have to look for some friends of mine.”
“You can’t leave my side yet, Mr. Campbell.” She tilted her chin to peer at me, a smug grin on her lips. “I intend to show you off this evening. Like your many admirers, I find you quite enthralling.”
“That’s very flattering, Miss Carpenter, but—”
“Please, call me Melanie.”
“Melanie. But I’m engaged and I’m not interested. So, if you’ll excuse me, I need to—”
A small cluster of women cast Melanie catty eyes and hushed whispers, causing her to tighten her grip around my bicep. “Your relationship status is of little significance tonight, Ryan. I’d love nothing more than to show you a good time. We should...get to know one another, since we’ll be seeing much more of each other.” She sneered at the women as we passed by, making an effort to turn her chest into me as we moved. Cameras flashed from across the room, calling my attention to the photographers ogling us like they’d just hit the jackpot.
I forcefully removed her arm from mine. “My relationship status is always significant. Excuse me.” See more of each other? Yeah, not happening.
I glared at the photographers as I crossed the crowded room, smoothing out my suit jacket as I moved. Next order of business was finding Carter, Dean, Sam, and Jess, although the temptation to find and corner Danny was pretty great.
I still had some passionate words for that fucker.
Scanning the perimeter, I trusted Carter and Dean to stand out like sore thumbs. Just as I suspected, when I spotted them, they were loud enough to stop traffic. From afar, they almost looked dignified, sharp in their tailored black tuxes, with the exception of some truly comical top hats.
But they weren’t fooling me.
Passersby eyed them fondly, albeit a few curious glances thrown in their direction. Excusing myself as I worked my way through the crowd, I politely dodged conversation and carried myself past the buffet tables until I reached them. Upon a closer look, I smiled. The top hats were nothing compared to their bowties. Dean’s was bright red, covered in god-awful white polka dots, and Carter’s donned a pattern that looked as if the British flag had puked all over it.
And oh dear God, Dean had a cane. I blinked, trying to make sense of the sight before me.
Then I laughed.
Sense? Yeah, there was none of that when these guys were in the room.
“Thanks for coming, guys,” I said, “I see you’re both shooting for the ‘best dressed’ award.” I smiled with amusement and cheerfully jabbed Dean with my elbow. “Dean, sorry I couldn’t get Crystal on the guest list. I tried, man. I guess I pushed my luck, inviting five people.”
Dean grinned, raising his cane and taking a bow. “Not to worry, ol’chap. I must say, you look smashing!”
“Indeed, I concur.” Carter patted my shoulder, mimicking the same cringe-worthy British accent as Dean. He cheerfully tugged at the edges of his tie and tilted the brim of his top hat. “You clean up jolly good, Sir.”
“Why thank you, gentlemen. Now I do believe I need a drink before I do something really stupid and pummel my publicist in front of all these cameras.” I grabbed something fizzy and pinkish looking from a tray as it passed by, the server staring at me indiscreetly as I downed it in one gulp.
“Why would you pummel him?” Carter asked.
“Ah, let’s just say he pulled a stunt that officially landed him on my shitlist.”
“Care to share?”
“He was adamant that I couldn’t bring Kate to this party tonight. Not that I had the option, anyway. But the second I step out of the limo, he shoves me with some blonde supermodel and expects me to wear her on my arm all evening like one of those poodles people carry around like accessories.”
“You poor, poor man. Such a cruel world you live in.” Carter placed his hand over his chest, feigning sympathy.
“Smartass,” I mumbled, turning to the nearest table to grab another drink.
“I believe we need to meet this supermodel,” Dean said, craning his neck to survey the room.
“I second that.”
“Don’t bother. She’s fake as they come—physically and otherwise.”
Carter and Dean glanced at one another, clinking champagne flutes.
I cocked a brow. “What, you’re into that?” I’d been with my fair share of plastics and never had any complaints. A hot woman was a hot woman, but nothing compared to the real thing. Authenticity was always sexy in my book.
“Doesn’t bother me.” Carter shrugged. “I prefer au naturale, but hey, I’m a lover, not a hater. Whatever works, chap.”
“Cheers to no discrimination,” Dean chugged back a swig of champagne, “and to fake ta-tas.”
“I respectfully disagree,” I murmured, wondering how long I had before Miss Fake Ta-Tas found me and reeled me back to her side for the rest of the evening.
“So what’s on the agenda for the evening, Mr. Big Shot?” Carter asked.
“Not sure, to be honest. I’m here to show my support for this Henson guy, and I guess to speak after dinner about the joys of the science fiction genre.”
“I thought you wrote psychological thrillers.”
“I do, but I’m an avid sci-fi reader and he’s signed under the same house as me. Only, I haven’t quite read his books.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, thanks, man. I’m pretty much just winging the speech. He’ll never know.”
Dean twirled his cane and nearly took out a server’s tray, clumsily fumbling to rein it back in with his index finger. He was the only one in our direct path completely unfazed by the near catastrophe. “And where are these lovely gal pals of yours we’re supposed to be meeting tonight?”
“Good question.” I pivoted to study the room, seeing no signs of them. “They should be here soon. I hope they didn’t run into problems at the entrance. I made sure they were on the guest list.” I took my phone from my pocket and began texting Sam, pausing to look up when I felt gentle fingers tug at my shoulder. “Oh, hey Neda, how are you?”
“Sorry to interrupt, Ryan. I’m very good, thanks. You’re looking wonderful tonight.”
“As are you. I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.” I gave her a cordial smile, pleased to see her instead of Danny for the time being. Neda was very different from her husband, in both manner and temperament. Where Danny seemed to be passive and stifle his annoyance beneath his facade of easy-going gentleman, Neda never left you guessing what she was really thinking. She was forward with her thoughts—always firm, but never brash. She had real class, always polite and considerate, even when she told you she thought you were full of shit. Composed and elegant, Neda was my dream agent. I could count on her when it came to career decisions, and she was an all-around pleasant person to work with.
It was her husband I was beginning to have second thoughts about.
“Oh, yes. I’m here to mingle and all that. I was wondering if you’ve seen Danny since you arrived. He did escort you in, didn’t he?”
“He did. But I haven’t seen him since. He stuck me with a date he told me nothing about.”
“Oh, he did, did he?”
“Yes, some Melanie Carpenter woman. If you see him, tell him I’m not through with him yet, will you? I’m here with some friends, otherwise I’d hunt him down and have my say with him right now.”
“I’m so sorry, Ryan. Truly.” She gripped my arm in consolation and gave it a little rub. Her thick, gold bracelets clanged together as she moved her hand back to her side. Peering into her sympathetic eyes, I was reminded of an exotic vision from the Egyptian Nile: dark complexion, blunt bangs, and deep blue irises. She was classy and beautiful to boot. “I’ll speak to him about that bonehead move,” she continued. “He knows how I feel about briefing clients before attempting strategies like that. Please accept my apologies.”
“No apology necessary from you, Neda. Thanks for speaking to him for me. I’ll catch up with you two later?”
“Sure thing. If you happen to see him, would you mind letting him know I’m looking for him? That is, if you don’t give him a black eye first?” She smiled warmly, squeezing my shoulder. “He isn’t returning my calls.”
“No problem.” I watched as she disappeared into the crowd, then turned my attention back to my text. Sam responded within seconds, letting me know she and Jess were running late but on their way.
“Who was that lovely creature?” Carter asked when I slipped my phone away.
“That was my agent, who happens to be my publicist’s wife.”
“Well, helllloooo, Cleopatra,” Dean sang, wiggling his eyebrows.
“She’s twice your age, man. Not to mention married.”
Carter eyed Dean. “And Crystal would have your balls if she were here right now.”
“Oh, rubbish. Don’t look at me like someone drowned your crumpets in tea,” Dean retorted, clicking his tongue in a tsk. “I’m merely making an observation.”
“Uh-huh.”
I was about to speak up and fill them in on Sam and Jess’s whereabouts, when Carter’s eyes bulged from his sockets and Dean’s jaw dropped.
“God save the queen.”
“Keep calm and hail Miss Fake Ta-Tas!”
I turned to see what all the commotion was about, and found Melanie gliding my way as if walking on air, her cheeks flushed and hair a mess, one strap of her dress pulled to the side at an awkward angle. All eyes were on her as she veered straight toward me.
“I take it that’s the date?” Dean asked.
Carter whistled. “I’ll be happy to take her off your hands, Ry. Dean, is my tie crooked? How’s my hat?” He adjusted the brim, then his glasses, giving his best attempt to look all stately.
“Here, you need the cane, dude. Women dig the cane.”
I finished off my champagne and braced myself for Melanie’s presence. How in the hell was I going to make it any clearer that I had no desire to be seen with her? Was she going to pursue me all night like this? And why did she suddenly look all...disheveled?
“Won’t you introduce me to your friends, Ryan?” She smiled as she floated to my side, eyeing them both as if she was ready to devour them. Her crown was slightly crooked, and she must have noticed my appraisal, because she quickly rushed to adjust it, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ears as she did. Her tight bun hairstyle was more of a messy nest, now, all wild and careless.
“These are my good friends Carter and Dean.” I gestured to them, smiling tightly. “I suppose I’ll let you three get acquainted while I make a phone call.”
Carter and Dean shot me looks, but they didn’t pay me attention for very long. They were too busy drooling over Miss Fake Ta-Tas. I took advantage of their distraction and the fact that Melanie seemed more interested in being the center of attention than she did stopping me from taking off.
I zipped around them and weaved through the clusters of guests, digging out my phone to call Kate. Zoning in on a stairwell at the far side of the room, I managed to dodge a few more people who tried pulling me aside to chat, reaching it just in time to collide with Danny. He was exiting a doorway, shutting it behind him and buckling up his belt, his face beat red and tie undone.
“You,” I said, my eyes narrowing.
“Ryan. Now is not the time or place. You have a speech to give, come on.” He rolled his eyes and tried to walk past me, but I stepped in his path.
“Your wife is looking for you.”
“She is?” An anxious look flitted across his features, his faint freckles looking darker against his reddened face. “You mean she’s here? Right now?”
“Yes, and she told me to tell you she’s looking for you. I can’t believe you took off like that and left me with that woman.”
“I, uh...I have to get going. And you need to go find Henson and introduce yourself. I need to find Neda. Excuse me.” He darted around me, glancing back over his shoulder once before hurrying off, and I let him slide by this time, following his movements as he drifted into the sea of guests. He was sweaty and skittish, not a combination I was used to seeing on Danny. I was so accustomed to seeing him comfortable and sure of himself, his sudden unease had even me breaking out in a sweat.
Dismissing the awkward run-in for a more important matter, I stepped inside the room he exited, flicking on the light and shutting the door quietly behind me. An opulent bedroom surrounded me, complete with a massive four-poster bed and lush silk linens, with gold and maroon drapes and gold-plated wall hangings. Dark green foliage filled the corners of the room, setting off an Art Deco style chandelier that hung in the center of the ceiling, over the bed.
I phoned Kate and waited. No answer. I tried again. Still nothing. I knew it was late where she was. My heavy sigh filled the bedroom. With my hands on my hips, I turned and took in my surroundings again. My gaze landed on a sliding glass door that looked as if it led out to a balcony of some sort.
Figuring I could use a few minutes to myself and a breath of fresh air, I started for the sliding door. Chilly air rushed me as I stepped out, the city lights twinkling in the distance as I looked out over the blanket of darkness. I gripped the black railing and inhaled the brisk air deeply, letting it sit in my lungs for a minute before releasing the breath.
I missed this. Quiet. Privacy. No need to perform or put on a face.
The cogs in my mind started churning, analyzing the past few weeks of my life and what had become of it from the moment I returned home to Seattle. When I’d first flown to St. Lucia to try and get Kate back, I was well aware things were about to change. For better or worse, I knew my life was about to take a turn. Whether or not Kate had accepted my proposal on the beach that day, when I returned to Seattle, my old life as I knew it was going to be gone—I could sense it in every bone of my body. I’d signed the publishing contract Bob had offered without any reservation, thrilled that he’d offered to sign Kate as well. And when he’d informed me that there was already major interest brewing over the manuscript and that things would be accelerating rapidly in the coming weeks, I had no idea exactly what that would feel like...until now.
Everything was starting to feel foreign—too foreign—although I couldn’t quite put my finger on why just yet. Yeah, I was thrust into a world of phony glamour and was expected to perform like a circus animal, but it was more than that. This thing, this itching under my skin, was intensifying. It was spreading and reaching for the surface, a clawing creature desperate for its breath. I didn’t like this creature. Not one bit.
But what I liked or didn’t like was irrelevant now, it seemed. I signed up for this life, and now it was time to grin and bear it for sake of my art. As much as I hated to admit it, Danny was right about one thing—many people dreamed of this life. Not just the fame and the money, but the ability to be able to share their art on such a massive scale. To be able to reach millions with their written word. There really was nothing like it, and something told me I should be grateful for that, no matter the price.
The sound of the door shutting behind me broke me from my thoughts, prompting me to glance over my shoulder, through the extravagant drapes, and into the low-lit bedroom.
“I can’t believe it’s really you,” a short, curvy redhead said, fingers knotted together as she nervously fumbled with them. A taller blonde stood next to her, beaming at me.
