Chapter 21
Gracyn
“G ray, what’s it like being married to a billionaire?”
Journalism has hit rock bottom. It’s a constant struggle not to roll my eyes at every ridiculous question they throw at me. It’s not a toss; they hurl those absurd inquiries, hitting me square in the face, every time. A little creativity wouldn’t hurt . Charli whirls around, and I snatch her arm to stop her from doing whatever it is she’s about to unleash. This is what they want. The sudden burst of a camera flash blinds both of us.
“Did that asshole take a picture of us with our mouths wide open?” she growls. “He could have at least given us a second to pose.”
I don’t take the time to explain they don’t want a pose, they want to catch us off guard. Instead, I usher her through the front of Rarity, away from more pictures. The bouncer shakes his head at the guy, gesturing for him to step back.
It’s been a little over a month since we tied the knot, but the paparazzi found out about me this week. They’ve become a nightmare, like relentless hound dogs, sniffing out any scoop they can get their filthy paws on, and they won’t stop until they have a story locked down and tied with a big red “fuck you” bow.
Brooks, in his infinite wisdom, thought it’d be funny to send flowers for us making it over a month.
It wasn’t.
Little did he know, the relentless hounds tracked me down and parked outside my apartment building. All it took was a measly twenty-dollar bribe for the delivery guy to tell them who sent the flowers. They’re crafting this whimsical romance between the two of us, highlighting every time someone catches us together. Considering we live thousands of miles apart, it’s been pretty frequent. Part of me wished he would’ve shown up at my door tonight. I almost canceled going out with Charli just in case he did.
She would’ve killed me. I need to get over these weekend indulgences, anyway.
“A week and a half, and you’ll be a free woman again,” Charli yells over the music.
“I’m a free woman now ,” I reply, and she throws me an incredulous glare. “What? I am. Look.” I lift my chin toward a guy sitting at the bar. “He’s cute.”
“He is. Go talk to him,” she dares.
As if sensing we’re talking about him, he looks up and smiles.
My eyes avert past him, focusing on the bottles of liquor on the wall behind him.
“He thinks you’re cute, too.”
“You’re an ass.” I emit a resigned chuckle and pull her to the bar on the opposite end. Chelsea, the bartender, gives us high fives as a hello and takes our order. She replaced me behind the bar after I quit.
“Just admit you have a thing for Brooks.”
“I do have a thing . A huge thing. According to Nevada law, he’s my husband. And nobody will let me forget.” Mom keeps asking if I’ve talked to him, as if we’re in a relationship. Ray keeps questioning if the annulment is still going to happen because he’s seen all the articles, acting as if we’re really married.
I want to scream at the top of my lungs, I’m just having fun!
Even though it’s a lie. When we finally end our marriage, the only thing left will be a broken heart. Mine .
When he asked me if I ever thought about living in New York, thoughts of Lindsey and her tears popped up in my head, and I freaked out inside.
“Sorry,” she murmurs, sensing my irritation. She hands me my martini and picks up hers. “Cheers to annulments and great sex.”
I clink my glass to hers. “ That is something worth celebrating.”
“Who asked for great sex?” Rory asks, strolling up to us. I can’t help but smile at his black suit, such a contrast from the typical black torn T-shirt and jeans he’s always worn behind the bar.
I straighten his tie. “I’m liking this look on you.”
“Thanks to you.” He leans in and gives me a side hug. “I have a table for you guys over there.” He points to a two-chair high-top in the corner with a reserved sign on it. There are a couple of girls next to the table, eyeing it.
I point. “Looks like we better grab it now.”
Rory bolts in that direction, making sure they don’t get any ideas. We follow, but at a more leisurely pace as he secures our spot.
Charli doesn’t waste time before immediately diving into our conversation. “Feels like it’s been forever since we hung out.”
“It has. I don’t like it.” We’re used to seeing each other every day, but since we graduated, these moments have become rare. She’s out searching for a job during the week, and I’m in bed with my husband on the weekends. Sigh. “Things will settle after the whole Brooks ordeal is over,” I say.
She runs her finger over the rim of the glass. Which means she has something to say but doesn’t want to say it.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re not staying for me, are you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The reason you’re not taking a chance with Brooks. It’s not because of me, right?”
“What? Of course not. It’s because he scares me. His entire world.” She waits for me to continue as I take a sip of my drink. I’ve thought a lot about this. How could I not? It’s turned my world upside down the last month. “He has a daughter. I’d be an instant mom. That is not something I take lightly.”
She nods in understanding. “Okay. I get that.”
“He has freaking paparazzi all up in his business,” I say, on a roll, pointing to the front door. “I’m a teacher. I am not the type to attend galas, rub shoulders with New York’s elite, or set sail to St. Barts for the weekend.”
“I don’t know. That part sounds exciting.”
“But that’s what you dream of. You want the glitz and glamour of the spotlight. I don’t. I want quiet moments with my husband as he whispers how much he loves me in the middle of a restaurant without the worry of someone snapping pictures of us. I’ve never dreamed of being the billionaire’s wife and all the responsibility that comes with that.”
I glance past her to the dance floor, where people move to the beat of the high energy song. My attention lingers on them as my thoughts drift to what it would be like to be with him. He said he wants an equal, and I can’t shake the feeling that he might not get that from me, a teacher . I’d have to conform to his idea of a wife and mom, and my needs would take a back seat.
Ultimately, I fear I won’t meet his expectations and end up like Lindsey.
Alone.
“Have you told him how you feel?”
“No. And I don’t plan on it. I’m not going to open myself up to rejection.”
She twists her lips, thinking. “If he didn’t have a kid and was broke, would it be different?”
“Of course it would. That would make him normal. Like me .”
She finishes her drink. “Normal is boring.”
I wave my hand at Chelsea as she walks by and motion for two more drinks. “Oh, look.” I point to a girl sitting by herself at the bar, a surprise that I had been thinking of her, and there she is. “That’s Lindsey, the girl I was telling you about, that moved here for her asshole boyfriend.”
“Yeah, the one you self-projected yourself on,” she says in a sarcastic voice.
I stick my tongue out at her and laugh. “C’mon, let’s see if she wants to dance. I hate that she’s sitting by herself.”
By the time we squeeze through the crowd to where she was sitting, the chair is empty. I do a quick scan of the bar. “Hey, Daryl, where’d the woman go that was sitting here?”
He stops wiping off the bar, looks up, and shrugs. “She paid and left.” Darn it. I wish we had caught her. “You guys good?” He points at our empty hands.
“Good for now. We’ll be back in a bit,” I say. Because the last time I was out where I had an obnoxious amount of drinks, I ended up marrying a stranger, so I’m trying to pace myself.
“C’mon. I’m ready to sweat.” I grab Charli’s hand. The song’s tempo is fast and pumping through the walls of the club, the vibrations tickling my insides—it’s the best sweat music. We slide in with a group of girls at a bachelorette party, who all cheer us on. That’s what I love about dancing; everyone is happy. We become best friends almost instantly.
A couple of guys make their way into the circle, showing off their best moves. The women inflate their ego by screaming and whistling, throwing their hands in the air. They dance with two women at first, but then slowly make their way around the circle. When one grabs me, I don’t hesitate. He turns me around and dances to my back. Jokingly, I stick my ass out and shake it.
It fits the song. Everyone laughs, and then I step away, dancing by myself. He moves on to the next woman. When the song ends, I’m sweaty, breathing heavy, and thirsty.
One more drink won’t hurt.
Okay, maybe two more.
As we’re sitting at the table, I notice a burly guy staring at us from the bar. I angle my head, staring back. He wasn’t there earlier because I would’ve seen him. He’s hard to miss. He’s sitting a few seats over from where I spotted Lindsey. Herculean strength biceps, wearing a black T-shirt, tattoos down both arms, with a scruffy black beard. It looks like he could be a bouncer or in security. A few minutes pass, and every time I glance that way, our eyes meet. Seriously, dude, stop staring at me.
“Who are you looking at?” Charli asks as she looks over her shoulder. She twists back in her seat. “Oh! He’s like scary sexy. One you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley, but also one that you wouldn’t mind slapping your ass as he rams his enormous dick into you.”
I burst out laughing, almost spewing my drink everywhere. “Oh my god, Charli!”
“What? He’s dangerously hot.”
He also won’t stop staring at us.
“Who the hell is that guy?” Rory barks, appearing out of the blue, making us both jump. He stands between our two chairs. “His eyes haven’t left you since you sat down.”
“I was wondering if it was one of Ray’s guys.” It wouldn’t surprise me.
“I know most of Ray’s guys, and I’ve never seen him before. I’ll find out his problem.”
I grab Rory’s arm, stopping him. “No, let me.” He lifts a brow, shaking his head. “I want to know why he keeps staring at me. Or us. He’s not even being discreet about it.”
He growls. “Fine. But I’m staying right here and watching.”
I hold my shoulders high, determined, and stride over to an empty seat, catty-corner to grumpy pants. He turns his head in my direction, eyebrows raised in a questioning expression, as if I interrupted him.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” he replies, not moving a muscle. His fingers tent in front of him next to his drink. It looks like water. I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t. It’s the most awkward stare battle ever.
Finally I blurt, “Who are you? And why are you staring at me?”
It’s the first time his mouth moves from a tight-lipped expression. One side curls up for a moment. “Did Mr. Handley not tell you?”
“Brooks? Tell me what?”
“He hired me to watch over you.”
Watch over me ? For what?
I slide out my phone from my back pocket and text Brooks.
Me: You could’ve warned me I had someone following me.
Brooks: Sorry. Bad habit. React first, explain later.
At least he can admit his flaws.
Me: It’s later.
Brooks: The paparazzi already posted a pic of you. I need to know you’re safe. Rob will make sure no one messes with you.
How can I fault him for his flaw if he turns it into the sweetest gesture? I smile as I reread the text. Even though it’s unnecessary, the thought that he cares sends a rush of warmth through me. My heart is so freaking confused.
Me: Thank you.
Rob clears his throat, and I shake out of my dreamy bubble, dropping the giddy smile. “Did you get it all resolved?” His apathetic tone irritates me.
“I did. And that was sweet of him, but I don’t need you. I have eyes on me everywhere.” I point to the ceiling where there’s a camera in every corner. “The owner and I are tight.”
He puffs out a single chuckle. “He told me you’d try to get rid of me. But he’s paying me a lot of money to sit here. And I’d be happy to call Mr. Knight and speak with him directly about making sure you are kept safe.”
I narrow my eyes, hating that Ray would probably pay this guy double if he knew he was watching me. He’s tried for years to hire security for me, and I don’t need him getting ideas that after Brooks and I are over, I’ll still need it.
Me: You get one night of this, and that’s it.
Brooks: Maybe.
“You might want to ready yourself for the bullshit articles,” Rob says, grabbing my attention again.
I tilt my head. “What articles?”
“Someone took a pic of you dancing on that guy earlier.”
“I wasn’t dancing on a guy,” I quip defensively.
He blinks.
“It was like ten seconds.” Anyone around could see that I did nothing wrong. “Everyone was dancing with those guys.”
“When you’re in the public eye, one fraction of a moment isn’t your story, the story is the one people will make up that happened during that fraction of a moment.”
This is why I can’t do this. I’m not poised enough to be a public figure. It’s bad enough I’ll have to watch what I say and do when I start teaching. “Shit!” I scream at no one in particular, storming back to Charli. I envision the picture and headline and start to panic.
“What’s wrong?” Rory asks, ready to go to war for me.
I wave off Rob. “He’s fine. I mean, not fine, but temporary.” I blow out a grated breath and glance at Charli. “It’s time to go. Did I tell you how much I hate being in the spotlight?”