Chapter 25 #2
Amber stood up and circled around Zinnia.
She stopped in front of her with an unsatisfied pout.
“I won’t fight you about this tonight, but there’s a time and place for sentimental jewelry.
” She inspected her face and turned to the team.
“I wanted Black America’s Sweetheart, not supermodel.
” She paused, considering. “Now that I know she can pull off both looks, I still prefer the former. It pairs better with Alfie. Scale back on the makeup next time. You’re dismissed. All of you.”
Zinnia began to follow everyone when Amber’s exasperated sigh stopped her. “Not you. Why do you do that?”
“Might help if you said my name and, I don’t know, asked me to stay.”
“I shouldn’t have to remind you that tonight is important, but I will since you seem to have trouble reading between the lines.”
“Only on Sundays. No need to be nasty about it,” she said, and then something miraculous happened.
Amber laughed—an actual chuckle.
Hell must’ve frozen over.
“Tonight is also Alfie’s professional debut amongst our friends and associates,” Amber said, all business again.
“This is his chance to speak about Tantivy, which he built on his own, and how hard he’s worked to do it.
Your job is to be the beautiful wife on his arm to complete the package.
Now, you may talk about your shop and your artwork if asked, but it’s imperative that attention mostly remains focused on him. Is that clear?”
“Sure. I love being employed.”
Amber’s pointed stare was riddled with amusement.
“Despite my initial reservations, you’ve proven to be sufficiently adept at loving my son in public.
Do not let that mask slip for a single second because I will know if it does and so will the viewers.
Keep your story consistent. You met exactly how Alfie claimed you did.
I’ve already had all traces of your dating profiles scrubbed from the internet.
No one will know the truth unless you tell them it exists. ”
As if she needed a reminder that their real marriage story wasn’t acceptable. She’d deleted her account the same night as their first meeting anyway.
“Did Jordan tell you? Or did you find it on your own?”
Amber ignored her. She began collecting her things and headed for the door. “I don’t know if I like you yet,” she admitted. “But I am grateful for everything you’ve done for our family. Thank you for being here, Zinnia. Thank you for…for trying.”
Our? Thank you?
Zinnia’s delighted laugh abruptly shifted into a wince. The designer had her measurements. Why the hell was her dress so damn tight? She took as deep a breath as possible and manually readjusted her bodice. “Anytime.”
“As far as anyone is concerned, you are a Zaffre. They fuck with you, they answer to me,” Amber promised. “Oh, and if asked, do not answer any questions regarding plans to have children. Not even as one of your little jokes.”
Jordan
Zinnia beamed in the general direction of one of their four security guards. “We basically have our own secret service. It’s kinda cool.”
Said security guard’s jaw twitched. For someone who was supposed to be stone-cold focused, his eyes looked a little too charmed for Jordan’s liking.
They were skipping the red carpet and being escorted into the venue through an underground parking garage.
After a planned announcement, they’d covertly slip into the crowd.
There’d be mingling and networking and small talk for at least two hours before they’d be allowed to hide the night away in the VIP section.
Zinnia, the Extrovert Sun Goddess, would be fine on that front. He hadn’t been surprised by how incandescently beautiful she looked in that devastating dress. Her jewelry was what killed him. She’d had her choice of flashier, more expensive items and chose his gifts instead.
She wore her jewelry set almost every day. They’d been at the farmer’s market once when a little old lady complimented her necklace. Zinnia’s incredible smile as she’d said “My husband gave it to me” altered his brain chemistry.
The dress made him hard, and the necklace made him soft—the combination of the two made him inescapably lovesick.
Once they made it backstage, they were directed by a harried event promoter to their hiding spot behind a grouping of blue curtains.
From there they had a partial view of the stage and the giant screen, currently playing a muted greatest-hits collection of scenes from Zaffre Hours starring the twins.
The club floor was already packed with people—some he recognized as family friends or big-name celebrities, but the overwhelming majority were strangers.
Wylie and Lulie were on the second floor in the VIP balcony area.
Jordan had watched them grow up on the show, same as everyone else.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d attended one of their birthday parties.
Zinnia gave this night to him, during their sabbatical, when she didn’t have to.
He wished Fiona and Grace had agreed to come—she would’ve loved having them there—but the cameras tipped the scales toward no.
“When we go out there, can you stand on my right side?” Zinnia asked sheepishly. “I don’t want to accidentally flash anyone.”
“Of course.” That slit went so high it was a real possibility. He couldn’t decide if she was wearing a thong or nothing at all.
He came close to losing all semblance of control thinking about her legs at any given moment. Concentrating on the way the fabric draped across her thighs or how it probably felt like a burlap sack compared to her skin might give him a stroke.
“Nervous?” she asked.
“A little bit.”
She looped her arm through his and squeezed his bicep. “Everything will be fine. Stick with me. I’ll show you how to really work a party.”
As she surveyed the scene, he studied her side profile for what had to be the millionth time, lingering on all the little details for this night.
The pearl cluster hair clip pinning her braids back.
Her slicked-down baby hairs. The cool-toned red color on her pillowy soft lips.
Her earrings—a present for their two-month anniversary. Her necklace.
One day when he was old and his memory began to fail, he hoped how Zinnia looked at the birthday party would stay with him. He wanted this exact moment to explode in his brain and attach to as many cells as possible to ensure it survived.
He took her picture and added it to his own print-later album. She playfully narrowed her eyes in accusation. He had blanket permission to take pictures whenever he wanted as long as they were respectful. She’d even made him a list of when he should restrain himself.
“You’re so beautiful.”
Her eyebrows twitched upward in surprise, and in one fluid motion she turned to face him.
“You should call me beautiful more often,” she murmured, eyes downcast and sultry tone whisper-quiet as she adjusted his collar.
“Like when I’m wearing a panda face mask at night or during a product launch when I’m so stressed I forget to shower and turn into a goblin.
Otherwise, I don’t think I can believe you. ”
Jordan genuinely didn’t know if she was only flirting for the camera pods, currently capturing their every move, because she’d started using that tone at home too.
Asking for pancakes. Telling him to clean the bathroom.
It didn’t matter. All she cared about was that he liked it and deployed it with merciless abandon.
“Are you calling me a liar?” He sucked in a breath as she traced the skin above his collar.
Her teasing smile relaxed into a thoughtful one. “I didn’t. But if that’s what you took from what I said, I won’t stop you.” She cupped his jaw.
He flexed his hand before sliding it around her waist. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Her unexpected laugh earned a “Shh!” from the event promoter. “You’re supposed to be hiding. One minute until picture start.”
Jordan continued, “Doesn’t matter the day or time or what you’re wearing—or not wearing.”
She shook her head, but he took hold of her hands and pressed her palms to his chest.
“You walked into my store, and I forgot how to exist. If you had turned me down, I would’ve spent the rest of my life talking about you, the gorgeous goddess who got away. I’d be on my deathbed telling that story just to make sure my final thoughts were about you.”
“Don’t say that— Why would you say that?” She pulled and her hands slipped out of his like water.
Fuck. Fuck. That was too much. Those were inside thoughts. Inside thoughts, by definition, were supposed to stay inside!
She stared at him, waiting for an answer.
He remained silent, still reeling from the absence of her touch.
Their camera pods had recorded the entire exchange. But gesturing to them, implying that he’d gone overboard for the sake of their performance, would be a lie and he had sworn to never do that with her.
A loud beeping echoed through the club as the lights dimmed and a countdown clock appeared on the screen.
In the video, Sadie was on a set, sitting in a chair in an all-white room getting her makeup touched up while talking and laughing with the crew.
Seeing his sister in her element always made him so proud.
He didn’t agree with 99.99 percent of her life choices, but there’d never be a time when he didn’t look up to his larger-than-life big sister.