Chapter 30 Paige #2
“I’m fucking sick and tired of Zach ‘the great’ Rothwell getting everything in life.
Successful in school, in business, and now in love—fuck him.
When is it my turn to reap the sweetness life has to offer?
” Now he advances so quickly and unexpectedly, he crushes my arms between us and wraps a strong arm around my waist. “I just want a fucking taste.” His tongue darts out as he lowers his head toward my mouth.
I clamp my lips shut, bucking and squirming, needing more room to use any of the self-defense moves I’ve learned. With my head turned to the side, I say, “Get out.”
He releases an eerie laugh at the same time he lets me go and it’s clear he is enjoying every minute of our exchange.
I stumble back and his half-crazed smile snaps my control.
Lunging at him, my hand curls into a proper fist and rotating my hips like I’ve practiced in my countless weekly drills, I throw a tightly controlled punch.
I hit him in the eye with a pleasing smack, causing him to stagger backward, and I seize the chance to thrust him out the door, slamming it in his face.
My knuckles pulse but not in a bad way and his curse-filled groans can be heard through the wood.
A satisfactory smile slides across my face as I shudder, grateful to have the barrier.
He’s despicable and so driven to stick it to Zach by having me on his arm.
I might have my own problems with Zach, but I don’t want to see him hurt and even more so, I don’t want to be involved in anything that could hurt him.
I almost don’t go to the gala. The idea of missing Nuit étoilée is saddening and foolish.
Despite all the other reasons not to go—like Zach, Reagan, losing the Hussey donation and funding—grabbing a pint of Cherry Garcia and watching To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before for the tenth time isn’t enough to keep me home.
I can’t bring myself to let the stunning vintage dress Zach gave me go to waste. Lifting it from the bed, I slip the beaded gown on and the image of myself in the mirror makes me want to cry. It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.
The fitted silhouette hugs my curves with crystal embellishments, capped sleeves, a sweetheart neckline and scooped open back. Just below my knees, a fringe of sparkling tassels falls to mid-calf. With my head held high, I leave for the moment I’ve been working toward for weeks now.
The evening is bittersweet. It’s even more of a success than I imagined. One of the city’s most well-known and well-respected philanthropic reporters makes an appearance and asks to speak with Nan, who insists I be part of the interview.
Throughout the night, Donovan leers at me every time our gazes clash, and I’m unperturbed, responding with the smile of a victor.
The sight of his big, ugly black eye does wonders for my mood and I can’t help but snicker at his lousy job at covering up his shiner.
But any joy is easily squashed by Zach’s many attempts to get me alone.
I thwart every one. If I decide to stay with the foundation, which I don’t think is a good idea, I need to make it clear Zach has to keep his distance.
I spend the entire evening, even when plastering on a smile and joining in idle chit-chat, thinking about how to save Project Miranda, and the only solution I can come up with is to reason with Reagan. I will go to her tomorrow and agree to leave so long as she agrees to reinstate their support.
I push through the night, keeping my distance from both Zach and Nan, refusing to break down or walk out. But I can’t lie. I won’t lie to myself anymore. This world and these people aren’t mine and as much as I’d love to marry Zachary Adam Rothwell, I won’t do it for anything but love.
As the night winds down, we surpass our donation goal and Nan takes to the stage for her wrap-up remarks.
I’m smiling and realize there were moments of joy this evening.
Moments where all our hard work, ideas, and imaginings paid off to see patrons laughing, smiling, and most importantly, writing checks.
Those moments are outnumbered by those where I had to dig deep and push out smiles against my sadness.
But the good exists among the bad, nonetheless.
“Good evening, everyone. I promise this is the last time you’ll hear from me tonight.
Once again, I want to thank all of you for your extreme generosity this evening and your outpouring of support for Project Miranda and our commitment to helping sustain the earth’s most valuable resource—water. ” Nan pauses and the crowd applauds.
“Those of you on our email list will get more details about the project in the coming weeks with more to come on our website. But tonight, I want to thank one donor for his significant contribution to Project Miranda. Without his support we wouldn’t be close to announcing a deal and location for our plant. ”
She steps into the center of the stage, glancing to one side and then back to the crowd. “Because of his single donation, we’re fortunate to skip the initial fundraising phase, and all of this is thanks to Zachary Rothwell.”
My jaw drops and I clutch my stomach as Zach takes to the stage, standing next to his grandmother. Smiling, he waves to the cheering crowd and with his hand shielding his eyes from the bright lights, he scans the many faces until he stops on me and winks.
“Thank you.” He kisses his grandmother’s cheek and then finds me again.
“I promise to keep this short because we’ve all had a fabulous night, but my dogs are barking.
It’s been a long one.” He winks again at me and I can’t resist a smile.
“And now that you’ve lightened your wallets, you’re free to go.
” Laughter erupts throughout the gathering, and his smile widens and my chest aches. I will miss his smile. I will miss him.
I’m not sure how or when Zach got the money. He doesn’t have that kind of money. If he did, he wouldn’t need his trust fund for his hotel. Is this another lie he’s cooked up to satisfy the crowd—have the evening end on a high note?
“Project Miranda is near and dear to my heart for several reasons. Of course, this work will be done in my mother’s name and I can’t think of a better project than one where we’re helping to provide fresh water to communities that don’t have a viable drinking water source.
If my mother were here today, she’d be thrilled with this project and our ambition. ”
He walks to one end of the stage, closer to me, his gaze still coming to me every so often. “I also backed this project because the entire concept is near and dear to the love of my life, Paige Hayes.” He extends one hand in my direction.
I gasp and my heart spasms as heads turn to look at me. My cheeks redden and I smile and wave as those I know offer words about how adorable Zach is and what a wonderful cause I selected.
“And Paige is now the Director of Strategy and Development for the Rothwell Foundation. She’s got grand plans for our foundation and I can tell you right now, look out for next year’s invitation to Nuit étoilée. If you think this year is amazing, she’s going to knock your socks off next year!”
I can’t believe he just said that. Why is he announcing a role I have no intention of taking? And he said I’m the love of his life? My stomach twists and flutters while I contemplate grabbing the microphone and getting him off the stage. Who knows what else he has planned?
But another part of me is overwhelmed by his generosity. He is a smart businessman and wouldn’t be stupid enough to lie about backing the project. At least, I don’t think so. None of this makes any sense.