Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
ISABELLE
Jackson’s standing very still.
If it wasn’t for the fact that I could feel his eyes taking me in and staring at me with such an intensity I’d never felt before, I’d be questioning whether he was frozen on the spot.
My heart pounds madly against my chest as I slowly walk toward him, eyeing him from head to toe, a single, three-lettered word springing to mind.
Hot.
The black designer suit he’s wearing looks like it was tailor-made for him, and he’d easily give any fashion model a run for their money. Not to mention that fresh cologne he sprayed on, which makes me want to bury my head against his chest.
This isn’t the first time I’ve seen Jackson in a suit, but things feel different tonight. There’s something in the air, which I can’t quite exactly put my finger on.
“Hey,” Jackson breathes. His eyes sweep over me again, and when he speaks, his voice is a velvety caress, wrapping around me. “You’re wearing the dress you showed me at your apartment.”
I only vaguely remember me drunk-showing him some of my designs the night of the reunion.
“Is that good or bad?” I slowly ask.
A fiery gaze flickers in his brown eyes, so fervid that I find myself unable to break eye contact with him.
“That depends on how you’d feel if I told you all the things I wanted to do to you right now.”
Oh. My. God.
Jackson’s said some flirty things to me recently, but he’s never said anything like this before.
My body buzzes with anticipation, and my breath hitches. The thing is … I want to hear exactly what he wants to do to me. And then I want him to do them to me. One by one.
“You look so beautiful tonight,” Jackson adds, his voice ever so suave. He takes another step forward.
“Thank you.” My breath feels stuck in my throat, and my hands are embarrassingly sweaty. “You … don’t look too bad yourself.”
The compliment feels pathetic because he’s clearly a lot more than just how I described him, and he’s making me feel all sorts of dangerous things I shouldn’t be feeling.
“Just not too bad?”
“Well, I guess I can say you’re an aesthetically pleasing sight to look at,” I say, then internally face-palm myself.
Aesthetically pleasing? Really, Isabelle?
A chuckle vibrates in Jackson’s throat. “I’ll take that.”
Silence floats in the air. This time, as his eyes stare right into mine, it’s almost as if he’s looking at me for the first time.
“Should we head to the event?” he asks.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
We take the elevator and make our way to the hotel ballroom, where tonight’s event is taking place.
Inside, a stage is set up at the front. There are at least fifteen tables, each with gorgeous floral arrangements in various pastel colors.
Light classical jazz music fills the air while purple lighting illuminates the room.
Men in suits and women in beautiful dresses are talking and laughing, and among the buzz and chatter, servers wearing tuxedos roam the room, holding trays of champagne glasses.
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Jackson says, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
Curiosity bubbles within me. “Who?”
“You’ll see soon.”
We stop behind a woman on her phone, her red hair pulled into a neat bun and her shoulders relaxed. She’s wearing a long-sleeved emerald-green dress, and even with her back toward me, there’s something familiar about her, even though I’m sure I’ve never met her before.
Hang on. Could it be …
Jackson clears his throat. “Good evening, Ms. Sparkes. Apologies for interrupting.”
The woman turns around, a warm smile on her face as she acknowledges Jackson and me. My mouth drops wide open, but no words come out.
“Hi, Jackson. Nice to meet you.” She turns to me and extends a hand. “Isabelle, is it? Pleasure to meet you. I’m Elizabeth Sparkes.”
“Oh my God, I love you—I mean, it’s nice to meet you, too,” I squeak and immediately cringe at how embarrassing I sound.
My palms are sweaty, but I manage to move my hand and shake hers. Her grip is firm and warm.
“Thank you so much, Elizabeth,” I add. “It’s great to see you in the flesh—I mean, er, in person.”
Elizabeth lets out a friendly laugh. “You can call me Liz. Jackson told me about you.”
I’m so starstruck at seeing Liz that it only hits me now that this is the surprise Jackson was keeping from me earlier. He somehow managed to get into contact with the Elizabeth Sparkes and tell her about me.
I slowly turn to glance at him, seeing a reassuring smile on his face.
“Our office receives numerous emails and requests on the daily, but I understand Jackson was very persistent,” Liz adds with a wink. “I’d say you’ve found yourself a keeper.”
A whirlwind of emotions swirls through my body. I’m the one who’s supposed to be here, supporting him tonight, and yet he went above and beyond to do something for me again. And that’s not even mentioning the incredible marketing ideas he put together for my fashion show.
“Yeah.” My breath catches in my throat. “He’s pretty amazing.”
“He certainly was very persuasive over email,” Liz says with a laugh.
“But I’m glad he was. Isabelle, I had a look at the designs on your website, and I loved them.
Sparkes Magazine is doing a piece soon featuring some newer fashion brands, and we’d love to include your business as part of the series, if it’s something you might be interested in.
I think you’d be an inspiration for many of our younger readers in particular. ”
My heart starts pounding like crazy. Did I hear that correctly?
I exchange another glance with Jackson, who gives my hand a gentle squeeze, the look in his eyes telling me that everything that’s happening is real.
“I’d be so honored,” I say, turning to Liz with a grateful smile. “Thank you so much for the opportunity.”
“Fantastic.” Liz beams. “My assistant will be in touch. I’m going to talk to some others, but it was lovely to chat. And, Jackson, good luck with your firm’s award nomination for tonight.”
“Thank you, Liz,” Jackson says.
Liz gives us both another nod before walking off, leaving a trail of Chanel perfume behind her.
“Oh my God, I’m going to be featured in Sparkes Magazine!” I squeal, glancing up at the ceiling. “Sparkes Magazine, here I come, baby!”
Jackson chuckles. “Sparkes Magazine and the entire fashion industry should watch out because my favorite fashion designer is about to make her mark.”
I turn to see Jackson grinning from ear to ear, as though he’s proud—proud of me.
“Okay, serious questions: What did you do to Liz?” I ask. “Did you cast some kind of magic spell on her?”
“I told her that if she came to tonight’s event, I’d arrange free gym memberships for her entire team.”
Despite the joking tone in his voice, I can still feel my imposter syndrome screaming and kicking loudly at me, so much so that I’m questioning whether he actually said that to Liz.
Jackson must sense what I’m thinking because his expression grows tender.
“It turns out that the sister of one of my clients had a contact at Liz’s head office in California.
Originally, I was just hoping to arrange a video call, but she was going to be in Chicago at the same time as us, so we were able to make it work in person. ”
Dazzled, I run a hand through my hair. “But how did you make her come to this event and offer my business an opportunity to be featured in her magazine?”
Jackson cups my face, forcing my gaze to meet his. “I didn’t make her arrange that interview or do anything. She saw your talent and passion. This is all you, Bella, and you deserve this and everything more.”
I stare at him in silence, taking in his words. He’s being humble and refusing to take credit, but without him, none of this would have been possible.
“Thank you for doing this,” I eventually say. Suddenly, the surprise I prepared for him tonight feels tiny and pathetic in comparison.
“As long as you’re happy, anything is worth it.”
I’m melting. I think I might melt into a puddle right now.
“If I told young Isabelle that she’d have the opportunity to be featured in her favorite magazine one day, she would’ve shaken her head and told me I was crazy.”
“Young Isabelle would be so proud,” Jackson says. “You were always reading Sparkes Magazine back in school. Sometimes, you’d accidentally leave copies in the classroom, too.”
My cheeks warm at the thought of him remembering that.
“I still have old stacks of the magazines in my room,” I fondly recall. “I remember when my parents used to give my sister and me pocket money back in elementary school, and I’d spend it on buying Sparkes Magazine. My mom always thought I was wasting money.”
Jackson stares at me, listening intently. It prompts me to open up to him more.
“I think everyone’s definition of happiness is different, and just because it doesn’t align with our own doesn’t mean we should degrade it,” I add. A wistful smile forms on my lips. “We should be able to write our own stories without someone else putting a strikethrough on our words.”
His eyes swirl with something gentle, tender. “No one should ever put a strikethrough on your words, Bella. If they do, they don’t deserve a place in your book.”
I let out a shaky breath, my voice faltering. “Not even a footnote?”
“Not even a footnote,” he softly says.
“The atmosphere’s really nice, isn’t it?” A high-pitched voice suddenly butts in.
My eye twitches as I watch Hilary beam at Jackson. She looks gorgeous in a floor-length, bright-pink dress with a slit at the side, her blonde hair pulled into a neat updo.
Beside me, Jackson stiffens. A hefty weight settles in my chest, my mind racing. Has he only been saying all those flirty and sweet things to me tonight because of this—because he wants to throw off Hilary?
Hilary clears her throat. “So, how did you guys meet?” she asks, her gaze darting between me and Jackson.
“High school,” Jackson responds, placing a hand around my waist.
Hilary bites her lip. “I guess you are kind of cute together.”
“Good evening, everyone. Welcome to the Wonderland Marketing Awards!” an enthusiastic voice booms through the microphone. “Please take your seats. We will commence the event shortly.”
Jackson reaches for my hand, and somehow, it feels effortless, like it’s happened countless times prior to tonight. “We’re at table number seven.”
“Amazing.” I beam as we walk ahead. “Seven’s actually my favorite number.”
He turns to me with a knowing smirk. “Is it?”
“Lucky number seven,” I muse. “Maybe it’ll help tonight with your company’s award nomination.”
“I don’t need a lucky charm when I already have you next to me.”
Forget about butterflies. There might as well be a whole damn zoo in my stomach now.
“You really know how to make a girl’s heart flutter, huh?”
Jackson stops in his tracks. “Maybe only yours.”
Definitely a whole zoo.
My eyes inadvertently linger on Hilary, who’s standing a few feet away and staring at us with a blank expression on her face. She notices me staring and averts her gaze elsewhere.
Don’t focus on her, I tell myself.
Jackson and I arrive at our table, and I spot a small place card with my name in a beautiful cursive font. Jackson’s place card is next to mine.
“This is so pretty.” Grabbing my phone out of my purse, I take a photo and turn to Jackson. “Can I have yours, too?”
He hands me his card. “Of course.”
I place our cards together and take another photo. “Just for the memories,” I declare, placing my phone away. “Maybe one day, we’ll look back on this and …”
My voice trails off when I notice Jackson staring at me, an unreadable expression on his face. The fluttery feeling in my stomach intensifies tenfold.
“What?” I probe.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck.
Is the always-cocky-and-confident Jackson Carter actually shy right now?
“Hey, guys!” Hilary smiles as she plops herself down in the seat opposite Jackson. “Someone offered to swap seats with me.”
I grimace while Jackson’s jaw locks, a sign that he hopefully isn’t eager about Hilary’s close proximity either.
Others at our table start arriving and take their seats, too, and we go through a round of introductions.
The gala host begins her opening address, and I direct my attention to the stage. I have my little surprise for Jackson planned for after the event, but aside from that, the only thing I can do is support him through the rest of the night.