CHAPTER FORTY
Hendrix
W ith its elegant gowns, crisp tuxedos, and camera flashes, the gala is a glittering spectacle of wealth and power, a world so far removed from my own of flour and sugar that it feels like I’ve stepped into someone else’s life.
In reality, I have, but that’s beside the point.
Every detail is meticulously curated—the extravagant floral arrangements, the cascading chandeliers, the waitstaff moving seamlessly through the crowd with trays of champagne flutes.
And yet, despite the opulence, all I can think about is the man standing beside me.
Jase looks flawless. Not a trace of the broken man I saw just hours ago. No resemblance to the impassioned apologies he offered several times on the way over here.
My questions over what happened remain unanswered. My need to know got lost in the sadness in his eyes that he tried to hide with quiet smiles, brushes of his lips against my cheek, and his praise for how I look.
But something did in fact happen and no matter how well Jase Gizmodo cleans up, pressed and polished in his tuxedo, it doesn’t erase it.
I glance over at him again and wonder how he was able to turn it around so easily. It’s almost as if he was born for this.
Maybe he was.
As he interacts with those around him, he laughs in all the right places, nods at the perfect moments, and then turns on that charm with his effortless grin. The same charm that easily won me over.
He’s introducing me to everyone we meet or who greets him. He’s doting on me with his attention when others are looking our way, but I can see the mask slip every once in a while.
It’s in the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s how Rocket or Hawkin or Vince make a point to come and talk with us for a few minutes at a time, whichever one’s turn it is unassumingly studying Jase’s face to make sure he’s okay. But there are some moments when Jase goes somewhere absently and then gives a little shake of his head to bring himself back. He’s here, he’s present, but it’s a struggle to find his way back.
But I applaud him for it and hate that he has to do it at the same time.
As the night wears on, his spark comes back bit by bit. Eventually, the mask slips off completely and we’re all treated with the Jase Gizmodo we all know and love with his sincere laugh and wide smile.
A warm hand presses against the small of my back, guiding me through the room. His touch is light, almost absentminded, but I’m well aware of it and him beside me as are all the eyes in the room.
“So you’ve met the guys. Thoughts other than how you married the wrong one?”
I chuckle. Our introductions were brief and amid others so there was a subdued greeting like we know each other. But I still noticed their assessing stares and felt their silent judgment as they wondered what kind of woman would marry a guy she’d never met before.
And while it was slightly uncomfortable, a part of me was grateful that he has friends who look out for him since it seems no one else does. There is clearly genuine closeness between the four of them that I didn’t sense he has with Nathaniel.
“You’re staring at me, Cookie,” he murmurs, his breath teasing the shell of my ear.
I stiffen, instantly defensive. “I am not.”
“You are,” he counters, his voice low, teasing. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you actually like looking at me.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
But the way his lips curve tells me he doesn’t believe me. Worse, I don’t believe myself.
“Maybe I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You know...”
“I’m fine. Good to go. Never better.”
“And of course when you say it like that, I’m supposed to believe it.” We walk a few more feet and I tug on his arm looped through mine. “Jase?”
He stops and sighs heavily. It takes a second for him to meet my eyes and when he does, I can see the reluctance in them. “There are times when a man needs some grace, Cookie, and today was one of those times.”
I nod, my bottom lip worrying between my teeth. “I’m worried about you is all.”
“I know. And I’m sorry that I did that to you. That I made you worry and doubt and question why the fuck you said yes to this.” His smile is a flash of apology.
“No. Yes.” I chuckle. “Maybe. My own past didn’t help the situation.”
“I’m okay. I promise you that I am.”
“What happ—” I wave a hand at him as he smiles at someone passing by. “Never mind. It’s not my business to pry.”
“Look, I had some unexpected news about a family member that threw me. It wasn’t the first time I got news like that, and I’m certain it won’t be the last. It just knocked me off my feet for a bit. I called Vince. He picked me up. We had a few drinks. Got it out of my system. It’s over and done with, tucked back away, okay?”
“Okay,” I say. I’ve had a whole day to stew on where he went and with whom, and even though I could feel hurt and angry, I’ve tried to remind myself that our lives are not intertwined forever. Down the track, even in five years’ time, today won’t matter. It’s a blip on this temporary radar. And I can deal with it.
He leans forward and brushes a kiss on my lips. I’m sure it’s for show but like most of his kisses, this one makes me melt a little. I’m wiser to what this is, but he’s still a damn good kisser. I’ve also realized I’m happy to be his friend. A real friend.
“You could have called me,” I whisper. “I would have been there for you, no questions asked.”
His eyebrows narrow ever so slightly as our eyes hold and before he can respond, a statuesque blonde in a dangerously low-cut black dress approaches us. She offers Jase a sultry smile but completely ignores my existence.
“Gizmo,” she purrs, reaching out to touch his forearm. “It’s been too long.” The look in her eyes is much more than a comment. It’s an invitation .
He smirks, his usual charm slipping into place. “Madison. Looking beautiful as usual.”
“As are you, Gizmo. We should get a drink. It’s been far too long.”
“You think?”
“Oh, I do. I know just the place too.”
“Hmm,” Jase responds, smiling.
As I watch their interaction, a strange tightness settles in my chest. Interesting. He’s just finished apologizing to me for his behavior today, and now he’s flaunting his past lovers. You were right to keep your heart out of this, Hendrix. The way she leans into him, the way her fingers trail lightly along the fabric of his sleeve, makes my blood heat, though. She’s being so brazen, knowing he’s married and pursuing him anyway. How do women get off on that sort of bitchy behavior? Why don’t they stick up for each other?
Jase glances my way, amusement flickering in his gaze. He knows exactly what he’s doing. And dammit, he’s an asshole, but I don’t see that he’s into Madison. He’s playing a game. All right then.
“So, this must be the lucky woman who tamed the untamable Gizmo.” Madison’s voice is a sugarcoated barb as she finally acknowledges me. She extends a perfectly manicured hand, her smile anything but warm. “Madison Sinclair.”
“Hendrix Gizmodo.” I shake her hand, gripping just a little too tightly.
An innate jealousy flares within me. Yes, this is all pretend, but I am in fact sleeping with the man so the spike of emotion would seem normal.
She laughs, her gaze flickering between Jase and me like she’s piecing together a puzzle. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises?”
Jase tilts his head, clearly enjoying whatever game she’s playing. “Always.”
She looks familiar and for a second, I try and place her as a celebrity. But then it hits me where I’ve seen her before—in one of the many photos I found online of Jase. She was on his arm.
So it’s no surprise to me she’s trying to let me know she staked her claim before me. That she has slept with my husband. So do I make a discreet comment and let this go? Let the woman feel good about herself for “putting me in my place”? Or do I make myself visible, act my part for the appearance’s sake? After all, when this is over, there’s no doubt in my mind that Jase will be back to sleeping with every Madison who offers.
I shift closer to Jase, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the solid warmth beneath my palm. “I recognize you. You’ve been one of Jase’s dates before at an event like this.” My smile is quick and my voice is loaded with sweetness. “Who did you come with tonight, Madison? I can’t imagine you came alone.”
Jase goes completely still, all but choking on his next breath.
Madison’s smile falters slightly.
And for the first time tonight, I feel like I have the upper hand. Like I found my backbone and am finally on an even playing field.
Jase recovers quickly, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me against him. His lips brush my temple, lingering just long enough to send heat rushing through me. “She’s a quick learner,” he murmurs against my skin.
I know it’s all part of the act, but when he pulls back, I see something new in his expression—something unreadable, something dangerous.
Desire.
Pride.
Want.
As Madison makes a polite excuse and melts back into the crowd, I exhale slowly and try to regain my composure. Jase watches me, his gaze darker now, sharper.
“That was interesting,” he muses.
I arch a brow. “What was?”
His fingers brush against my hip, slow and deliberate. “You, getting jealous.”
“Please.” I snort. “I was just playing the part and letting her down gently.”
“Killing her with kindness?”
“Can’t be called a bitch when you’re sweet and complimentary, now can you?”
“True but you can still be jealous.” His voice is smooth, teasing, but there’s something else beneath it—something unsettling.
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes.
“Excuse me for a moment? I need to use the restroom. Will you be okay on your own?”
“Fine. Yes.” I watch him walk away and draw in a deep breath.
“Ah, there she is,” a smooth, confident voice says. “Thought he’d never leave your side.”
I turn to find Quinlan, Hawkin’s wife, standing before me, a champagne flute in her hand and a warm, knowing smile on her lips. Beside her, Bristol, Vince’s wife, tilts her head, assessing me.
“So,” Bristol says with a knowing smirk. “How’s the bakery?”
They know the truth, but lucky for me they seem okay with it and are playing the game.
Just like I am.
I clear my throat, gripping my clutch just a little tighter. “Busy,” I say with a polite smile. “Flour-covered hands aren’t exactly gala-friendly, but I’m here. I’m trying.”
Quinlan chuckles, lifting her glass to her lips. “I get that. I used to think I’d never fit into this world either. But you’d be surprised how easy it gets after a while.”
I raise a brow. “You mean it stops feeling like everyone is watching and waiting for me to fail?”
Bristol laughs. “We’re not that lucky. They’re always watching. The trick is that you stop caring.”
I exhale, stealing a glance at where I last saw Madison. “That easy, huh?”
“Not easy,” Quinlan corrects. “It’s brutally hard, but necessary. And it’s majorly worth it for your own mental health.”
Bristol leans in conspiratorially. “A tip from someone who struggled at first? Ignore the comments, the gossip, and the fans who think they know everything about your relationship. They don’t.”
I nod slowly, taking in her words.
“Also,” Quinlan adds, “if you ever need to vent, drink, or just take a break from being Gizmo’s wife, we’re always a phone call away.”
“We’re the BENT Bitches and we mean that term in the most loving of ways.”
That unexpected warmth settles in my chest, easing some of the tightness I’ve had. I’ve spent so much time trying to prove I belong, so much time worrying about where I fit into this new, bizarre world, that I never considered the possibility that maybe—I didn’t have to do it alone.
I let out a breath, finally relaxing as I meet their gazes. “I think I’m going to like having you two around.”
Bristol grins. “You don’t have a choice. If they’re brothers, we’re definitely sisters.”
I laugh, and for the first time tonight, I feel like maybe I can handle this after all.
“Oh, shit. Giz is coming back,” Bristol says and laughs. “We weren’t here.”
“Nope. If we weren’t here then we can’t be accused of corrupting you,” Quinlan says as she gives Jase a quick hug and kisses him on the cheek. “It wasn’t our fault. We promise.”
“It’s always your fault,” he teases, his grin genuine, as they walk toward their husbands. “I see you met the BENT Babes.”
“Bitches,” I correct and wink. “Get it straight.”
But before he can respond, a waiter appears, offering Jase a drink. He hesitates for half a second before taking it, his fingers tightening around the glass. I see the conflict in his eyes, the flicker of something unresolved.
I reach out and take the drink from his hand before he takes that first sip. “Maybe we hold off on this after earlier?”
I know it’s not my place to say it, to ask it, but I need to know whatever happens next tonight is real and not because of alcohol.
Jase narrows his eyes at me, but then his expression shifts, almost as if he realizes he’s two halves to a whole now—at least publicly anyway. He doesn’t argue against my request. Rather, he just lets me take the glass and set it on a passing tray.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“Facing one of these sober. Now, that’ll be interesting.” He chuckles sarcastically but when he links his fingers with mine and squeezes, that’s all I need.
He’s giving me a concession.
A huge one, apparently.
And that says a lot about the kind of man he is.