Love Me Gently (Deer Creek #1)

Fourteen

Trina

Then

* * *

“Have you been here before?”

I peered up at my escort, friend, and model, Matteo Laurent, and smiled. “I come to the Met as often as possible, but not like this.”

A gala at the Met. Not the Met Gala, but this was as almost as prestigious. Where only the most famous were invited, Steven’s entire agency had been so this year, and I was still floating on cloud nine. His requirements of me weren’t getting me down this year. Mostly because the more money I brought in and the more popular I became, the less Steven bothered me. I would have figured it was because he was worried I’d finally say something and report him, but the truth was, it’d been three years since I started working for him. I was now twenty-one, and over the years, there’d been dozens of new models dropping to their knees for his approval.

The modeling industry was more painful and difficult than anything I could imagine. I wasn’t sure there was a woman I’d met yet who came through unscathed. Whether it was with a cocaine and or nicotine habit along with a diet of bone broth to say thin, or women who were in my position and forced to do the things I’d chosen, we were all injured.

Frankly, the men didn’t have it that much easier, from what I knew.

“This is a beautiful sight,”

Matteo said, in his faint French accent. Born in Montreal, his parents were from France. He’d been in the States working for a couple of years and I’d had the good fortune to meet him at Fashion Week last year. We were now both models with Calvin Klein and not only did we run into each other frequently, but because he was gay, Stephen didn’t mind if we spent time together.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t find a prettier date,” I teased.

Matteo chuckled and covered his free hand with mine that was wrapped around his other arm. “For a female, you are not too shabby.”

He patted my hand in sympathy like one would pet a pouting dog.

“You’re rotten,”

I laughed as we were escorted up the stairs. Lights flashed and photographers asked for our names, both of which Matteo and I ignored.

We were known in the modeling world, and maybe by generations that still clung to magazines, but we weren’t who the press was waiting for. We were small fries, and I was thankful Matteo was as humble about our successes as I remained.

All of this could be yanked out beneath my feet tomorrow and I’d lose everything.

Stephen threatened it enough, but without the threats I already knew it was true. As an agent, he’d grown in popularity even more so than he’d been when I first met him.

Because of that, I’d never fought our contract or left for another agency. If I ticked him off, he had the power to ruin me.

I had no doubt he’d do it.

We reached the top of the stairs and a whole new world of glittery lights and fashion made my jaw drop in disbelief. “Wow,”

I exhaled on a deep breath.

Matteo’s back straightened. “This is… this is truly unbelievable. What do we do?”

I spied a waiter, with a silver tray in one hand filled with bubbly champagne flutes. “Drink,”

I replied. “We drink.”

I slipped my arm out of his hold and followed the waiter carrying pink champagne, Matteo’s deep laughter following my lead.

We drank. We snacked on the occasional appetizer that wouldn’t ruin our diets or make my already skintight, silver dress any tighter. I’d had to soak in eight pounds of Epsom salt to squeeze into the thing and I was already a size zero these days.

Eventually, we wandered through the crowd, where dinner would be served, and we scanned the tables to find Cormack’s agency and where we’d be seated. Matteo found his name, but as we searched the nearby tables, my golden nameplate wasn’t anywhere to be found.

Dread crept its way into my stomach, making me set down my champagne.

“Where do you think I’m sitting?”

Matteo shook his head. “I don’t know. This must be a mistake.”

Steven wouldn’t make mistakes. He would have had someone here as soon as we could enter, ensuring everything for him was perfect. His agency hadn’t just been invited, it was being recognized for some humanitarian effort. I’d stopped listening at the word humanitarian because Steven was most definitely not that in any way, shape, or form.

Was he not allowing me to sit and eat?

“Ah. There you are.”

I froze at his voice, the slick tone of it as if he was truly joyful to see me. Turning, Steven was several steps away, weaving in and out of chairs covered with white, shimmering seat covers.

“Good evening, Steven.”

I dipped my chin out of politeness.

He didn’t return the greeting. At least, not to me. To Matteo, he turned and said, “Leave us for a few minutes.”

Matteo’s glance slid to mine. His gaze was a heavy weight at my temple, but I didn’t dare turn my head or my attention off Steven who was peering at me with much the same intensity wafting off Matteo.

“Very well,”

Matteo said, “I’ll be back soon.”

He brushed my fingers by as he passed, to which Steven hmphed.

“Truly, take your time. Our lovely lady will be more than occupied soon.”

Matteo, smart enough not to ask questions, moved away but did it slowly, glancing at me once he was behind Steven with his brows raised in questions and marked concern.

“What can I do for you?” I asked.

Steven stepped forward and wrapped his arm around my bicep. His grip hurt, and I flinched as his thumb and finger met and pinched the soft, tender skin of my inner bicep.

He proceeded to drag me along, barely giving me time to keep step with him in my four-inch, needle-thin stilettos.

“I have someone who is interested in meeting you. Do not let me down.”

The first came as surprise. The last came as a warning.

“Of course, Steven. Who?”

“Jonathan Wolf.”

“Who’s that?”

His grip on me tightened as he tugged me along. He also didn’t answer, leaving me confused and more than a little worried. I should have known better than to believe tonight would be a celebration and a night of fun.

When it came to Steven, I was nothing more than a toy or a pawn.

The only remaining question was how he planned to use me.

Jonathan Wolf was extraordinarily handsome, and that barely began to describe his good looks. He was older than me by at least a decade, most likely more, but he’d aged to perfection with a body that instantly stole my breath and a deep, rumbling tone that made my stomach flutter in wild ways I wouldn’t have expected. As Steven dragged me closer to a small cluster of men and women, all far older than me as well, it was Jonathan who stood out the most.

We were in a large ballroom with some of the most beautiful people in the world, models and celebrities included, but seeing Jonathan, with looks like his, I figured he was often the most seen person in any room.

I knew it was true because he might have been in discussions with those around him, but it was apparent he was the one holding court, and they were all fawning over him. I had no doubt this happened often when it came to him. As soon as Steven and I grew closer, almost close enough where I could call his name out loud, he turned, and our gazes met.

Wowzers. I trembled in my heels as that penetrating gaze landed on me. Eyes so dark they were the color of the night, his lips curled into a soft hint of a smile as his eyes scanned my face. Never once did they drop further down to my cleavage or the outline of body, obvious in my dress. Not even a flicker.

Classy. This man was beyond classy, and my unease at Steven forcing me to meet him dwindled as he excused himself from his group and closed the space between us in two quick strides.

“Steve.”

He held out his hand. The men shook hands while I played the part Steven had instructed.

“Jonathan. Allow me to introduce Trina Mills to you. Trina, this is Jonathan Wolf.”

I leaned forward and forced my face to remain impassive. Hard to do with Steven’s fingers still digging into my bicep, and the gorgeousness that was in front of me.

I spent my days and nights and life with models, men who were extraordinarily good-looking, but something about this man in front of me took it to a whole different level. Perhaps because he wasn’t model pretty. Perhaps because he was definitely all man and masculinity wrapped up in a designer suit and a gold Rolex that appeared on his wrist as his hand extended to me.

“Jonathan,”

he said, and the rumble of his voice covered me like a warm blanket. My hand shook as I held it out to him. “Trina, is it?”

“Yes, sir. Pleasure to meet you.”

His gaze skipped to Steven for a moment and his hand loosened from my arm. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. Enjoy yourself,”

he said with a smile, but as he turned and met my eyes, his dark blue eyes went glassy in that way they did before he turned evil.

I swallowed and tipped my chin. I was to be good. Check that. I was to ensure I made Steven look good, regardless of what that meant for me.

With a lump forming in my throat, I turned back to Jonathan.

His coloring reminded me of a Viking. All hard edges and sculpted cheekbones. His hair was a sandy brown, longer and shaggier than most of the men in this room but his style still showed care and class. His lips were full, and his jawline had a sharp edge to it.

The man was far beyond anything I ever expected to see in a living, breathing male.

“Trina.”

He grinned as he said my name and his head tilted to one side. “Is that short for something?”

“Katrina,”

I whispered, my throat somehow unable to work properly. “It’s short for Katrina.”

“Beautiful, much like yourself. Why don’t you use it?”

There was no way to explain to this man why. That where I came from, it was too much. Too everything. Too large of a name, too exotic. I had no idea what my mother was thinking when she chose it, but it was far beyond the simpler name of my older sister, Kari.

“Trina suits me,”

I replied.

That hint of a smile of his vanished and I had the strange sensation I’d disappointed him.

“I disagree. Trina is common and playful. Yet you are beautiful and so much more than something so simple.”

It was impossible he knew anything about me beyond my looks, and yet the compliment still increased that flutter in my stomach. A heat spread to my cheeks, and I found I could no longer meet his gaze for fear I’d melt into a puddle of mush in front of him.

“Thank you.”

I looked away as I said it, but his hand reached up.

I cringed for a moment before his thumb pressed the sensitive flesh beneath my jaw and drew my gaze back to his. “Lovely. So lovely. Shall I show you to our seats?”

“Our seats?”

My brows rose in surprise.

“I approached Steven earlier, informed him I’d like the honor of your company this evening while we dine. I hope that’s okay.”

I’d be a fool to do anything but agree. Not only would Steven have my head on a platter come Monday morning, I had the distinct impression this man got what he wanted. Always. Fortunately, his company appeared to be enjoyable.

“Of course. I’d be delighted.”

Jonathan held out an arm, gesturing for me to precede him and when I did, his hand settled low at my back. Low enough, his thumb could brush on the upper part of my backside. I tried to remain calm as he guided us toward the table, but then he leaned in, close to my ear. “Don’t be nervous. I promise you that it will be me who is delighted by your company.”

My head spun as his quiet rumble wafted over me. The floor became uneven beneath my already shaking legs.

This man was something…something far more than I’d even been surrounded by.

He was intoxicating.

“Sit,”

he said, and pulled out a chair for me. “I’m thankful Steven brought you here tonight. I’ve been wanting to meet you.”

I couldn’t fathom why, based on his age, and the fact he had to be wealthy given the table where he sat. The tuxedo he wore was Tom Ford, and the gold Rolex on his wrist would have been dead giveaways anyway.

“I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage, and I apologize for what I’m about to say and don’t mean to be rude, but I have no idea why or who you are.”

His eyes flared and then a wide, boisterous smile broke out on his face right before he laughed. Not at me but amused all the same. “No offense taken. We don’t run in the same circles.”

He lifted his hand, and a waiter appeared. Jonathan plucked two glasses of champagne off the tray and slid one in my direction.

Pink.

Like what I’d been drinking all night. Had he been watching me? He must not have been lying. He truly had wanted to meet me. I shook off the strangeness and thanked him for the drink.

“What circles are those?” I asked.

His smile deepened and there was humor in his vibrant, rich dark eyes. “Technology, athletics. I’ve recently become General Manager of the Georgia Gators.”

My lips rolled together. That had to be a big thing. And it took me a minute until I flipped through all the memories of my dad shouting at the television screen on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. “Football,”

I finally said. “You manage a football team.”

“I do.”

“That must be…fun?”

Again, his chuckle. I took a sip of my drink, tiny little sips that barely wet my tongue so I could stay sober. This man was disarming enough. The way my body felt when he was near was something I hadn’t felt in a very long time. I needed to keep my cool.

“It is. And a challenge. But yes, and the team is having a good year, so that’s always a bonus.”

“Congratulations.”

I tipped my glass out to him, and he clinked his flute against mine. “So you live in Georgia?”

“Most of the year. I own a place here in New York though as well. Which is enough about me. Tell me about you. What brought you to New York?”

I tipped my head to the side and gave him a smile. “How do you know I’m not from here?”

“That’s easy.”

He chuckled and reached forward. For the first time in years, I didn’t flinch and didn’t pull away. Didn’t even feel the need to wait for pain when his thumb brushed over my cheek, over the shell of my ear, and down the column of my throat. Goose bumps popped and made my blood sing at his soft touch and my lips parted. “You’re too soft. Too beautiful and your eyes are too kind to have grown up in New York.”

“Oh,”

I breathed. “Okay.”

My words were gone, my senses were alive. It was such a vast difference from how I’d been treated for so long.

Jonathan licked his lips and trailed that finger down my arm to my hand, linking our two ring fingers together. Like we were childhood friends making a promise. It was sweet. Enduring. So wildly different than the way I was currently feeling. He settled our linked fingers on my thigh, and it felt good. Right.

He leaned in then, close enough anyone watching would think we were far more intimate than we were, but he didn’t kiss me, didn’t do anything except whisper, “Plus, your accent is a dead giveaway.”

He pulled back and took a drink of his champagne, humor and teasing making his eyes glimmer with joy.

I laughed and shook my head. “Right. Of course it is.”

We talked more. I learned so much more about Jonathan Wolf that night. We laughed about how different the South was from the North. He told me how the Gators were having their first winning season in six years. And somehow along the way, he got me to open up more than I had in years. It was so easy to talk to him. He was quick to laugh. Quicker to ask me questions instead of only talking about himself. He was gloriously handsome, crazy smart, and undeniably wealthy and yet he talked to me like we were old friends.

Which was why I told him about my parents. My small town of Deer Creek. How it was stifling to be the daughter of the pastor at the largest church in town where every step I took was watched with eagle eyes, and how the city gave me the freedom to figure out who I was.

The entire evening flew by, and I hadn’t laughed so much, enjoyed myself so much that when Jonathan asked me to go back to his hotel room with him…

I couldn’t find a reason to say no.