Chapter 20
20
ZARA
Three days before the gala, I am finally feeling like myself again.
To my surprise, Jobe has booked a makeup artist and a hairdresser to come to his penthouse on the day of the gala. Tomorrow night, I have a manicure and pedicure appointment. I feel spoiled beyond anything I have ever known. We haven’t been intimate in weeks, and yet, everything he does for me shows me he cares, and it’s confusing the hell out of me.
Tomorrow, the cleaners are coming before Penny and Franklin arrive. We spoke a week ago, and I promised her I’d be better by the time they get here. My stomach is in knots over how Jobe will act toward me when they’re here because I don’t want the pampering to stop.
While they know we are fake dating, they know nothing about our fling—one that will end after the ball.
This week, Jobe returned to the office to work. He never got sick, which surprised me as he was close to me the entire time. I’m working from home for another week and returning to the office next week. Piper said there is barely any staff in the office, though most of us will be returning on Monday.
My cell makes the familiar FaceTime sound.
Penny.
“Hi, honey.” I assume she is calling and about to get on their jet, but her face is pale, and she looks like crap. “Are you okay?”
“Hi, Zara,” she says with a hoarse voice. “I have the flu…” She breaks into a coughing fit. “I’m so sorry. I really wanted to be better and come and see you. I need a Zara hug.”
“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry.” I feel so bad for her and understand how awful it feels when you’re unwell. “I was hoping to see you too. At least I’ll get to see you soon when I’m home for Christmas.”
She forces a smile. “I’m looking forward to it.” She rubs at her red eyes. “I have no idea how I caught this. I haven’t been this sick in a decade.”
“You’re a mom and working big hours for Franklin and Jobe. Be kind to yourself, Pen. It’s natural to get rundown when you’re a new mother.”
She smiles, and this time, it reaches her eyes. “I love you, Zee.”
“And I love you.”
“You’ll have to tell me how the gala is. Send photos,” she says with a little more enthusiasm.
“I will. Jobe has arranged for makeup and hair to come to the penthouse. It’s weird being fussed over.”
She smiles. “The Hendricks men like to splash their money around.” Her eyes round. “It’s weird Jobe is doing it for you.”
I laugh to lighten the mood. “I know, right? I only have to pretend to be his girlfriend for a few more days so Franklin and Jobe can sign the contract.”
She scrunches her face. “It’s already signed.”
“What? Oh, Jobe probably mentioned it, but I didn’t absorb it because I’ve been so sick.” He lied again. But then, he could have ended our fake relationship and didn’t…
“Yeah, so you don’t need to fake-fake it.”
“Great.” I roll my eyes for her benefit. “I can relax and have a few more champagnes.” I wink at her. Only I can’t stop thinking that there is no need for me to attend. My presence is no longer required, and I’m filled with conflict about not wanting us to end.
“Ugh, I wish I was there with you.” She pulls a sad face.
“We’ll make up for it when I’m home. See if Hugh is also free.”
She smiles at the screen. “I’d like that.” She waves to me. “I’ll talk to you after the gala to see how you coped with Jobe being Jobe .”
I laugh. “Get well, babe.”
When the screen goes blank, I let out a long, conflicted sigh. I’m relieved she can’t make it and possibly catch on to my true feelings for Jobe, but I also miss my friend.
The makeup artist finally leaves. At times, it felt as though my face was a blank canvas, and she was creating a masterpiece that was going to take days to complete. I asked her several times not to apply it so damn heavy. I’m going to a formal ball, not a nightclub to pick up some random.
I change into my gown, one that Jobe’s stylist selected and had delivered here. Either he has great taste, or his stylist is a fashion icon. It’s a tasteful low-cut gown, champagne in color, and covered in sequins, heavy around the hem and fading to lightly scattered over my waist and heavy at my chest. I feel like a princess and barely recognize myself in the mirror.
The jeweled accessories are minimal yet make a statement. Drop diamond earrings dangle halfway down my neck and one diamond bracelet, which are on loan. My hair is down and curled perfectly. My reflection fools me that I could be someone who would be on Jobe Hendricks’ arm.
I grab the diamond clutch purse and head into the kitchen. Jobe stands from the couch, his eyes all over me. I expect him to say something, but he remains silent.
“Do I look okay?” I twirl on the spot.
“Zara…” he shakes his head, blowing out a breath, “… you look fucking delicious.”
Not what I was expecting.
“Thank you, I think. But I don’t want Sir James having those thoughts.”
He comes to stand mere feet away. His eyes hold mine, and there’s an intensity I haven’t felt in weeks. “Every man in the room will have those thoughts tonight.”
I smile at him, flattered in a way. I allow myself the time to check him out. “You look handsome yourself, as you always do in typical Jobe style.”
“I’ll take that as a good thing,” he says in a deep voice, his gaze unwavering.
I grin at him. “It is. It’s natural for you to look good.”
He frowns at me. Did I say the wrong thing?
“Do you not realize how beautiful you are? Ever since we met, you have mesmerized me to a point where I struggle to take my eyes off you.”
What?
His eyes darken, and then he holds out his hand. “We better leave because if we stay another second, I’m going to mess up your hair and makeup. ”
Oh. “Let’s go then,” I say and swiftly head to the door.
I can’t let that happen. He sees this as our final night as a fake couple, but my heart is well and truly involved.
If I fall into his arms even one more time…
… I’ll never recover.
My heart thumps in my chest as I begin to panic. I’m fucking scared to even fake it with him. It’s too much. I could say I’m feeling unwell again. Do I stay or do I go? After everything Jobe has arranged for the night, it would be a waste of money and energy if I backed out. Since Sir James is going to be there, we have to fake it since he believes we are a couple. It’s not strictly necessary, and yet, Jobe wants this between us. He wants me tonight .
He doesn’t know that I know. I keep asking myself, Is it our last night of faking it?
He takes my hand and leads me out of the apartment. Then, like a gentleman, he opens the car door and assists me with my dress to slide into the car. Nothing Jobe Hendricks does feels like pretend. His eyes hold mine when we speak, and I catch glimpses of his gaze lowering and checking me out. His voice is deep yet tender and also on the brink of cracking. None of it feels like pretend, especially the way his fingertips trail lightly up and down my arm.
From the moment we arrive, he is right by my side. His hand has a strong hold around my waist when we speak to his business acquaintances in the foyer. Minutes later, his hand clasps onto mine as he leads me into the ballroom. He cannot keep his hands off me. Every touch and stolen glance is very, very real.
The sexual tension between us is about to crack.
We weave past several round tables covered in white linen until we come to the front of the room. Harrison is standing by the table. He shakes Jobe’s hand, then mine, introducing us to his wife, Rachel, who is stunning in a navy sequined gown. Her dark hair is styled off her neck with curls pinned in an updo.
“Congratulations,” I say to her and Harrison. “You look amazing. I can’t believe you’re a new mom. What did you name your son?”
She holds my hand and beams a big smile. “Callum. He’s two weeks old and so tiny compared to the girls but doing well.”
Callum James. “CJ. I love that.”
She grins at me. “So do I, though Sir James isn’t partial to abbreviated names,” she whispers.
As if cued, Sir James comes forward. “Good evening, Jobe,” he greets and shakes his hand. Then he turns to me and holds out his hand, his eyes meeting mine, and I struggle to look away. He is different tonight, as though he is unsure of me.
Maybe it’s because the contract has been signed, and he’s waiting to see what Jobe does with his former company, though it doesn’t explain the serious gaze for me.
Natalie stands and holds both my hands, nudging her husband aside. “Zara. You’re radiant.”
“Thank you. And you’re beautiful, Lady James.” While she is in her fifties, she could pass for a woman of forty. Elegant, sophisticated, and fun to be around. I imagine she has her work cut out for her with Sir James.
“Please, call me Rachel,” she whispers. “No need for formalities here. Unlike Ernest, he always likes to be referred to as Sir. ” She winks at me, and I almost let out a giggle. “I’m sure you’re in need of a champagne, darling.”
She hands me a flute, and I thank her before taking our seats. Behind us, other guests file in and find their table.
“We have rearranged the seating,” Rachel tells me. “Ernest’s eldest brother is coming along with our nephew. They were able to come after your friend, Penny, and Jobe’s brother couldn’t attend.”
“I apologize for the late notice. Penny is very ill and upset they couldn’t make it.”
“It’s fine. Our friends and family are always available and waiting. Ernest has five brothers, none like him,” she whispers. “Though Edward, his oldest brother, has a smaller business and does rather well for himself. His son, Oscar, and he run a tight ship.”
Oscar.
“Here they are. Ernest will introduce you.”
Oh, my fucking God. Big O.
After being introduced to Edward, Oscar walks over to us and beams his friendly smile at me. “Nice to meet you, Zara,” he says after we are introduced. Do we pretend we don’t know each other?
He shakes Jobe’s hand. “Congratulations on the takeover.”
“Thank you, Oscar James,” he says and gives me a side eye as though I should have known this.
Before we say anything more, the announcer asks everyone to take their seats.
Oscar leans in close. “Your secret is safe with me as long as mine is with you. Though I have to ask, are we still pretending?”
I shake my head. “I’m not,” I say honestly.
Finally , he mouths and winks at me and then moves to sit with his father.
As I take my seat between Natalie and Jobe, I think about what Oscar said. His secret…
Then it dawns on me. His family is unaware he isn’t straight.
Why?
I glance at Harrison, Sir James, and then Edward and imagine living in their extravagant world. The Hendricks are fancy and extremely wealthy but do not have the royal attitude of the James family.
Away from the opulent balls and formality of the James family, Oscar can be his true self. I loved Oscar’s personality from the moment I met him and would rather spend time with him than with his stuffy uncle. A sense of contentment washes over me. I’m okay that the fake dating show can stop tonight. I don’t want to have to pander to Sir James’ narrow attitude anymore. Come to think of it, I’m not a fan of his opinion that Jobe was unreliable because he was single. People shouldn’t be judged on their sexuality or their relationship preferences. Or whether or not they have children.
After our main course and auction, the classical music begins and people take to the dance floor. “May I have the first dance?” Oscar asks me.
“Of course,” I say, delighted.
He takes my hand and leads me out onto the floor. “Give me a quick rundown. Where are you two at?”
“Well, we stopped pretending and embraced the attraction,” I say and smile at him, knowing he was right. “Then I found out he took over the company where I worked. I was mad as hell he didn’t tell me. Then, he had to fly back to LA. What I do know is I am done pretending.”
Oscar frowns. “Another takeover separate from my uncle’s?” I nod. “Fuck, the man’s a machine.” He eyes me carefully. “Does the workaholic syndrome run in his family?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Huh. Like my uncle.” His eyes turn serious. “It’s a lonely life, Zara.”
“Ha,” I joke. “We are not at that stage, so slow down. Not even a couple,” I whisper .
Oscar’s beautiful, subtle smile is back as though it’s imprinted on his resting face.
“Why don’t they know?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “It’s none of their business. If I find a person I want to spend the rest of my life with, then I’ll make it known.” He shrugs. “I don’t want my personal life to be public.”
I smile up at him. “We need to make another pub date.”
“Am I invited?” a voice comes from behind me. “Excuse me, Oscar, do you mind if I cut in? I’ve been waiting to dance with my beautiful partner all night.”
Oscar lets go of me. “Of course. She is beautiful,” he says in a serious tone. Then he grins. “You make a great couple.” He winks at me before he strides away.
Jobe pulls me closer, then he raises my hand in the air and moves side to side, occasionally twirling us as we move. His eyes never wander from my face, staring at me as though I’m the only person in the room. The longer he stares, the faster my heart beats.
“Did you tell Oscar we’re a couple?” he asks in a low, deep voice.
There is nowhere to look other than at his intense, dark eyes. “I told him I’m done with faking it,” I whisper.
His eyebrows slightly tighten, enough for me to notice. “Done for tonight or done forever?”
“Forever,” I murmur.
Shit, he can take it two ways. We are done and finished, or I want to take the next step.
“I don’t want what we have to end,” he whispers.
My lips part in the biggest smile. “Neither do I.”
He leans his forehead to mine as we sway, and it feels so romantic to be doing this with Jobe, the man I believed could never be tamed.
The calm orchestral music switches to modern pop. I smile at Jobe as we break apart and move with the music, my hips swaying. I’m singing the words and catching glimpses of Jobe’s eyes locked on my body. He’s barely moving, doing a weird thing with his arms. I smile at him and keep to the beat while only his feet are not moving.
What. Is. Happening?
He looks… dorky.
He can’t dance.
I take his hands and guide them to my hips, then turn, moving my ass over his crotch.
He stops suddenly, and I turn over my shoulder to see what’s wrong. He’s staring at my feet. “Are you okay?” he asks, his brows pinched in concern.
What? “Yes, I?—”
He bends and takes my foot, carefully inspecting it.
“What are you doing?” If we are questioning feet issues, then we should be looking at his.
“You’re okay, baby.”
I know I am.
Suddenly, I’m whisked into his arms. What the… “Excuse me. My partner has twisted her ankle,” he says as he carries me past couples dancing and twirling.
“Jobe, what is happening?” I say quickly, utterly confused.
“Follow my lead.” When we reach our table, he tentatively lowers me to the floor, keeping an arm around my waist. “Keep your foot off the floor, baby.”
Everyone at the table is staring at me.
What is he doing?
“Unfortunately, we need to leave. Zara twisted her ankle on the dance floor.”
Say what? I grimace and lift my foot.
“Sorry if I wore you out,” Oscar says, his subtle smile in place and clearly onto us .
“I’ll be okay,” I tell him. “Two left feet.” I shrug.
“Oh, I hope you’re okay,” Natalie says and stands with Rachel beside her. Then I’m surrounded by everyone at the table wanting to check out my sprained ankle.
I will kill him.
“I’ll take her home and elevate her foot with ice,” Jobe announces. “I’m sorry to leave a beautiful ball. You’ll receive my donation on Monday,” he tells Sir James as he slides his suit jacket down his arms and helps me slip into it.
I narrow my eyes at him. I was having fun.
“I hope to see you all again soon,” I say as Jobe whisks me into the air again and carries me toward the large wooden doors. “Was this really necessary?” I ask when we are a good distance away.
“If you knew the thoughts I’m having, then yes.” His beautiful dark eyes hold mine.
“You can’t dance,” I whisper gleefully.
He gives me a sideways glance. “No. I’d rather express myself in other ways. You were grinding your ass on my cock, and I didn’t want everyone to see us compromised.”
“We were not compromised,” I say, amused.
“If I remained there any longer, I’d have to find a side room so you could grind your pussy on my face.”
I giggle. “Jobe Hendricks cannot dance. Finally, I found your weakness.”
“Zara,” he warns. “It is not a weakness. My priorities lie elsewhere, and I’m too busy to hang out in clubs and dance. ” He says it like it’s a dirty word.
“No,” I say, seeing through him. “But I imagine you in those secret VIP clubs receiving lap dances where the girl dances for you.”
“Exactly,” he snaps. “And a gala is not an appropriate place for what could happen next.”
Jobe has proved to me he is capable of some commitment, be it short-term. If he needs a kinky lap dance, then I’m here for it as long as it’s only me.
On the last night we have to fake it, I see a changed man. “Are you going to ensure I get my ankle treated?” I can’t help the smirk on my face.
“I’ll be treating you, Zara. Only the ice won’t make it to your fucking ankle.”
Oh.