Irrational (Underneath it All Series: Book Two) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (7 page)

She stayed for the first half of my ballet recital when I was 10, and went out to the car to smoke during intermission. When I shuffled outside after it was over, eyes bloodshot from crying, I found her curled up in the van taking a nap. When I was 12, I had the most A's in the entire school and before they could even get to the part in the program when I walked up to the stage to get my certificate, they had to escort her out because she got into it with one of the other moms.

My excitement that my mother was here for my presentation was tainted with worry. Not just that she'd sabotage my event somehow, but the gravity at which she'd sabotage it.

I was out in the hall, staring in the direction of the bathrooms instead of going through my cards one last time.

"You look nervous," Grandma observed. Her hair was more gray than red, but I looked into a face that I imagined would be my mother's someday, minus the smile lines around the mouth and the kindness in her olive colored eyes.

I wiped my palms on the front of my black slacks. Black slacks that Grandma helped me iron, expertly wielding the old thing, even though her eyesight wasn't what it used to be.

"Not nervous," I lied. I patted the notecards in my pocket. I knew the material. I knew what to say. That's not why my hands wouldn't stop shaking. "I'm not nervous about my presentation."

Grandma glanced down the hall in the direction of the bathrooms too. In the rattiest t-shirt and jeans, hair a mess, shades over her hungover eyes, my mother had slithered directly to the restroom to 'freshen up'. She'd been 'freshening up' for half an hour.

The classroom door creaked open and Ms. Roberson, my Civics teacher, poked her head out and flashed me a thumbs up. "You're up next, Sadie!"

Grandma shot her eyes back toward the bathroom and I could have sworn I saw her lips moving, saying some silent prayer, hoping that her daughter wouldn't let me down.

She hadn't learned that hope was dangerous either, apparently.

Grandma pulled the sides of her mouth into a grin that was edged with sadness as she pecked my forehead. "Break a leg, Sadie.” Her cane clicked against the floor as she made her way back into the classroom.

Ms. Roberson read my anxiety as nerves about my presentation and reached out and patted my shoulder. "You're my best student, Sadie. You'll be just fine! When the applause for the current presentation is done, come on in."

I gritted my teeth and hoped it looked like a smile. Ms. Roberson didn't notice and disappeared back into the classroom.

The applause began and I had a moment of insanity, flying down the hall like I was going to drag my mom into the room with me, whether she wanted to come or not.

I came to a hard stop when I heard an uncommon, but vaguely familiar sound.

It was my mother's giggle...and it wasn’t coming from the bathroom. There was a side corridor, just beside the bathrooms, that the school staff used. It led to the teacher's lounge.

I took a tiny step forward and strained my ears, doing that annoying 'hope' thing again. I hoped my mind was playing tricks on me, but my mother was definitely talking to some dude.

My heart balled into a fist when I heard the giggle again. I knew that sound because it fell from her lips whenever a man was in her general vicinity. My suspicions were confirmed when I heard a deep voice ask for her number.

I knew better than to cry. Than to be hurt or angry. Still, I couldn't stop the hole in my chest from getting bigger and bigger as I marched back toward the classroom, just in time to hear the applause.

*

J
ackson Colt was making it difficult to not fall for him.

6:55 PM: (Jackson) -  Hey! Was wondering if Rose wanted to come over tonight too?

My throat constricted because I’d been spending all morning and afternoon trying to compile a list of why dating him, or even going to his place tonight was a bad idea.

Why I Shouldn’t Go On a Date with Jackson

1. He was a client. Considering our last tryst was ‘off the books’, it was safe to say that I could cross him off my regulars list. The parameters of a companion and client relationship were there for a reason. The detachment was key. It protected both sides. The unraveling had begun that first night when I stopped looking at him like he was every other guy who strolled in and out of my bedroom when I was at The Tower. With all my discipline and ability to turn off my emotions, to turn off
   me
   to take care of business, it just wasn’t an option with Jackson. Not then, and definitely not now.
   
2. I knew better. Hadn’t my mother beat all that pesky nonsense out of my head with every disappointment? Didn’t I know that pinning anything, including hope, on anyone but myself and Rose was a recipe for disaster?
   

I’d been smart enough in college, walking the line and never allowing anyone close enough that their inevitable departure could do anything more than make me shrug. When Jackson got bored with me, or decided he wanted some socialite that was easy in bed, easy to read, and easy to love, I wouldn’t just brush off my shoulders and carry on.

I was so screwed.

And not the good kind of screwing, like we’d done the night before.

Rose started arguing the defendant’s case on the screen, screaming at the DA because he had it all wrong.

I picked at a loose thread and chuckled to myself. The rest of the list faded to black and there was just my sister. Safe. Happy. And she was the reason I didn’t flake on Jackson. I wanted to convince myself that he didn’t know me. That I’d never let him know me, but that text he sent, inviting her, was proof that he knew me well enough to know that my sister meant the world to me, and including her when he didn’t have to would score him an infinite number of points in my book.

I hadn’t even started getting ready, even though it was an hour out from the 8pm I’d confirmed with a ‘K’. I’d been gearing up for a last minute bug or flu-like symptoms, like I’d used on Gail.

Looking at my phone, heart swimming in my chest and tears swimming in my eyes, I asked Rose a question I already knew the answer to.

“I know that
Law and Order
is life and death to you, but if you’re interested, Jackson invited us to his place.”

She was literally two feet away from the TV, legs crossed beneath her. She was dressed in an oversized t-shirt and knee high socks with her pale hair in a single braid draped over her shoulder. She was the spitting image of so many afternoons back at home. It reminded me that while it was easy to focus on what was missing when we were growing up, I couldn’t forget the good times and the moments that made me smile.

Rose swiped the remote from where it was dutifully perched beside her and muted the volume. “I’m sorry, it sounded like you just invited me to your boyfriend’s castle?!”

“Jesus, Rose,” I said, much needed laughter falling from my lips. “What am I going to do with you? First off, he’s not my boyfriend, and second, he’s not a Disney prince. He doesn’t live in a castle.”

“Well, he’s a gajillonaire, Sa-die,” She mocked my stern, big sister voice. “I can’t even imagine what kind of digs he has.” She popped to her feet, carefully draping my worn blanket on the back of the couch before she resumed freaking out. “Not that your place isn’t completely adorable! Bohemian chic.”

“Bohemian chic,” I snorted. “Does that mean secondhand and falling apart?”

She ignored me and picked up where she left off with the jumping up and down. “I bet he has a butler! And a private elevator! And a fleet of foreign cars!”

My excitement dimmed with every thing she mentioned. That kind of a lifestyle, with all the trappings of wealth and success, intimidated me more than it thrilled me. What did I have to offer a man that could buy the world? I didn’t want nor need flights to far off places, diamonds, or my picture all over the internet like the women he usually dated.

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

“Uh oh,” Rose had paused her pregame festivities and I hadn’t noticed because I was too busy doing my own version of freaking out. She squeezed on the couch beside me and gently took me by the shoulders. “You’re already trying to talk yourself out of it, aren’t you? Trying to talk yourself out of him because you don’t think you deserve to be spoiled?”

I flashed her a sad smile and gently extricated myself from her grip. “It has nothing to do with not thinking I deserve to be spoiled, Rose. I don’t
want
to be spoiled. I don’t need to be taken care of. And I don’t belong with a man that has a butler and a private jet and wants to spoil me. I’m no one’s sugar baby.” I looked down at my phone and slumped my shoulders. “This is such a bad idea. I’m going to tell him no-”

“Don’t you dare!” Rose squealed, snatching my phone from my hand.

We were both lanky and long legged, but she got all the athletic genes. I could only chase her around the living room for a few seconds before I was completely out of breath.

I stopped at the kitchen table, yanking out a chair and dropping onto it with a cough. Rose poked her head out from the bedroom, her cheeks flushed, smile waning.

I wasn’t smiling.

She trudged over to me, offering my phone like it was a peace offering. “Sorry.”

I snatched it from her, still hyperventilating. “Not sure what’s up with you and my phone, but it is
not
okay to treat it like a toy. What are you, 5?”

“I said I was sorry,” Rose snapped, a little more annoyed the second go round than apologetic. She pulled out the chair beside me, tugging at her braid nervously. “You know I was joking with all that rich dude talk, right? I mean, you know him well enough to know he’s not one of those guys.”

I perched my chin on my palm and stared at her blankly. “Do you want the truth or a lie?”

“Sadie, I could just...” She didn’t finish her sentence with words, making a choking motion with her hands instead.

“The feeling is mutual.” I stuck out my tongue at her and laughed, realizing that I’d officially jumped on the five year old bandwagon.

I wished I was more like Rose. We grew up in the same hostile and loveless home and it turned me hard, bitter, and skeptical. She didn’t let the black void of what was missing and what we’d never have dim her ‘arms wide open’ approach to living. I hid in my books and threw myself in my work. Rose still saw the good in people. I worked really hard to root out the reasons I should keep my distance instead of giving people the benefit of the doubt.

“I wish I could see something other than disappointment on the horizon,” I said glumly. “We’re clearly not match, Rose. If he takes me out to some fancy dinner-”

“Sis, do you think a man who woos women with fancy dinners would come to this neighborhood and eat canned spaghetti and pasta out of a box?” She realized she was making her point by dissing me and quickly added, “No offense.”

I shrugged my shoulders, but I contemplated her words. She had a point. If that was the kind of man Jackson was, our first night together would have gone very differently. I wouldn’t be sitting here, trying to convince myself that he was a bad idea, because he never would have gotten past my defenses.

My aversion to being wrong made me answer her as low as I could muster, hoping she didn’t catch my words. “That’s a good point.”

Unfortunately, she had ears like a hawk and heard my words loud and clear. “Just in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a pretty intelligent person.” She patted herself on the back. “Which is why I took what you shared about him in the car and decided to take matters in my own hands.”

I massaged my temple, channeling all my patience. “Just because it ended up working out does
not
make what you did no big deal. You took my phone and texted him without my permission. Yeah, it ended up going well, but what if it hadn’t? The ends do not justify the means, Rose.”

“I know, I know,” she whined. She sat up a little taller. “And just because Mom broke your heart doesn’t mean that love is stupid and taking risks is a dumb thing to do. Could we go over there and discover that he loves caviar, ecstasy, and making fun of poor people? Maybe. I’d say that the chances of that are slim. I’ve never had a guy answer my texts as quickly as he answered the ones asking him to come over. He likes you, Sadie. He likes you enough that he’s even inviting
me
over.” She framed her cherubic face like she was about to take a selfie. “As amazing as I am, I’m not
that
amazing.”

I still wasn’t convinced.

“Look, if I’m wrong, I’ll never force you to watch another episode of L & O. If I’m right, he could end up being the one. The freaking
one
, Sadie. Some people search their whole life for a partner who looks at them the way Jackson looks at you.”

I bit my lip and dropped my eyes to the table. I wasn’t ready to look at my embarrassment in her eyes. “You’re just a hopeless romantic.”

“And despite the show you put on for the world, so are you,” she winked. Not one to beat around the bush or take no for an answer, she launched into action. “Now, are you gonna text him, or am I? We need to find you something sexy to wear!”

~

I
wasn't sure what I was expecting when our cab pulled to the curb, but when I peered out the window at Jackson’s building, I was at a loss for words. It was barely different from my own except it was a little fresher off the ‘standard urban apartment building’ assembly line and was in a much nicer area of the city.

My sister was not speechless. “This is it?”

Despite her whole bit about not really expecting a castle and limousines, disappointment tinged her voice. I, on the other hand, was relieved.

I paid the fare and slipped out of the car first, wiggling my toes in the ridiculous open toe wedge shoes I'd let Rose talk me into. If she had her way, I’d be in a skin tight black dress with a body hugging jean jacket to 'make it cas'. I'd vetoed the dress and gone with a black tank top and jeans instead. The wedges stayed and while I would have been more comfortable in something flat and practical, they did make my outfit pop. I'd warded off her flat iron and pinned my hair into a bun instead and my makeup was low key except for my begrudging acceptance of a pop of color. My lips were fire engine red and I was sure I'd be paranoid about lipstick on my teeth all night. I refrained from wiping it off after Sadie let out of a squeal of glee when she was done applying it.