Prove Me Wrong (9 page)

Chapter
Eleven
Clara

              I shifted a little uncomfortably on my feet, standing off to the edge of the red carpet entrance. I saw one of the ushers look at me oddly as I avoided the entrance. Other attendees were already walking by, smiling and waving to the press in their glittering gowns and sleek suits.

              The silky satin of my dress swished against my thighs. I had nothing remotely formal in my closet for an evening like the Devons Design Awards but Brenda had rectified that immediately.

              She had a beautiful gown in a deep, almost blue-ish, purple sent to my apartment with a note telling me to be a little more charming than I was at the buyers event.

             
Like, 100% more charming. Please. Xoxo Brenda.

              I snorted a little at her plead. I’m sure I must’ve looked odd to her. After all, I wanted to succeed more than any of her clients. I wanted to prove myself amongst all the other designers. But all of that determination and strength dissolved in the face of Jonah Lowell.

              I could explain to Brenda where I was coming from but the idea of having one more person look at me pityingly was more than I could bear.

              So I had slipped on the fitted gown and had reluctantly taken Jonah’s car to the event, hoping that there would be enough people to fit between myself and Jonah. Preferably, the entire populace of New York City.

              Jonah had said he’d meet me at the event but now that I was here, I wasn’t sure if that meant outside of the red carpet or inside the dinner. If it was inside, I wanted to find an usher and ask if there was a back way into the dinner, avoiding the flashing lights of the red carpet.

              I knew Brenda would kill me for avoiding the free press of walking the carpet to this exclusive dinner but I just couldn’t do it on my own. I was in such a swirl of anxiety. If only Brenda had been able to come too!

              But before I could make a step towards an usher to ask about the back way, I felt a large warm hand on my waist, turning me around.

              I turned around to have my breath immediately taken away.

              This was a Jonah I recognized and yet had never met.

              I still saw the familiar raw dark blue gaze and the sharp, strong jawline. But gone was the dark stubble and mussed up hair that he had sported at Mackleson’s.

              Now his jaw was clean shaven, showing off the strong angles of his face. His dark hair was sleeked back, making him look like a lethal panther waiting in the jungle to pounce.

              In fact, that’s exactly what he looked like—a dangerous panther. And I could tell that I was the prey.

              Tall and broad, he wore his suit like a second skin. I knew there was no man on the planet that could look this good clothed or naked.

              And I absolutely wanted nothing to do with such a man.

              I drew in a shaky breath.

              Jonah smiled down at me, his eyes glinting with warmth and pleasure. “You look beautiful,” he said in a deep murmur.

              Absolutely refusing to let my cheeks blush with pleasure, I nodded and said in a stiff formal voice, “You look very nice as well.”

              I saw his lips twitch but he said nothing else except motioning me towards the red carpet. I took in a deep breath and drew back my shoulders. I wasn’t one for the spotlight. I was totally fine working quietly in the background. But I knew that someone like Jonah Lowell couldn’t avoid press and as his…no, not date…
companion
for the evening, I needed to brave it as well.

              Plus, I knew Brenda would want me to. It would be good exposure for my name.

              I just didn’t know if I wanted that exposure to be linked with Jonah Lowell.

              With a large hand on my back gently guiding me, we walked down the carpet together.

              Cameras flashed in a frenzy.

              “Mr. Lowell! Mr. Lowell! Who’s your date?”

              “Jonah! Give us a word! Who’re you with tonight? Who’s the lucky lady?”

              “Miss! Can you tell us how you know Jonah Lowell?”

              But Jonah just gave a wave and stood for a few minutes to allow photographs to be taken.

              I was overwhelmed by the questions and the flashes and began to feel a little weak kneed.

              But before I could trip or collapse, a strong arm wrapped itself around my waist.

              Instinctively, I pulled away but Jonah held on, keeping me close by his side.

              Leaning his head towards me, he murmured, “We’ll walk to the end of the carpet, stop once more for photos, and then head on inside. The only press inside will be focused on the stage and awards ceremony.”

              I nodded. Somehow knowing about what I needed to do next helped calm me. I didn’t know if he knew how nervous I really was but it helped to feel his solid grip around me, giving me strength.

              We walked towards the end of the carpet, posed once more, and then headed in. I released a huge breath once we were inside the gorgeously decorated hotel ballroom.

              I looked up and saw Jonah grinning at me.

              “Feel better?” he asked.

              So he
had
noticed how nervous I was. I nodded. “Much,” I said honestly. “I don’t like that much attention.”

              He nodded, sympathetically. “It’s not always fun, that’s for sure.”

              I looked him over. If anyone knew how troubling or annoying press could be, that would be Jonah. His whole life had basically been documented through the press.

              “Why don’t we find our seat?” Jonah suggested. Putting a hand at my lower back again, he guided me through the elegant and illustrious crowd.

              Reminding myself to keep a distance, I tried to walk faster so I could avoid his touch but the crowded ballroom kept me from going too far.

              We found our table near the front quite quickly but before we could sit down, a voice called out from behind us.

              “Jonah! There you are!”

              We turned around and I saw an older man with graying hair at the temples smile as he quickly crossed the room towards us.

              “Frank,” Jonah said with a smile as he shook the man’s hand. “I thought you were still in London.”

              Frank shook his head. “Got back two days ago. I was going to fly back out tonight but Marcia insisted I had to be here.” He gave a groan as if he had been put under a heavy burden but it was clear he didn’t mind giving way to this Marcia.

              Jonah grinned. “You did right. Go against your wife and I don’t think there’d be enough of you to send back to London.” Frank laughed. He then turned his attentions to me, eyes curious.

              Jonah made a gesture towards me. “Frank, I’d like to introduce you to Clara Daniels, an incredible furniture designer and also my—”

              “Associate,” I interrupted quickly, afraid he would use a word like ‘date’ or even ‘friend.’

              Jonah’s lips twitched but he made no comment. “Clara, this is Frank Austin from Austin & Wilde.”

              My eyes widened. “It’s such an honor to meet you, Mr. Austin,” I said sincerely. Frank Austin was a legendary designer, creating some of the most iconic homes of Boston and upstate New York.

              Frank shook his head. “Frank. Call me Frank,” he said genially. “So you’re a designer?”

              And before I knew it, I was talking shop with one of my heroes. It was so surreal. But even more surreal was Jonah standing next to me, vouching for every accomplishment I had. Having Jonah’s seal of approval clearly impressed Frank.

              When Frank left to find his Marcia, another man called out and approached Jonah. This time it was a buyer from Singapore who was visiting New York to scout out new talent. Immediately, Jonah introduced us and again went on and on about my skills and talent.

              By the time we sat down, I was completely overwhelmed. The red carpet, the event, Frank Austin, and most of all—Jonah Lowell. I hadn’t known what to expect from him tonight.

              Would he be cold? Flirtatious? Romantic? Businesslike?

              He was such a mystery at times that I had exhausted myself by just thinking of the possibilities of the evening.

              But instead, he was being warm and watchful. He seemed to know exactly when I was feeling nervous and when I needed a little encouragement or help. He knew when to comment in conversation about my work and how to make genuine and sincere compliments towards me.

              Why was he doing this?

              Sitting down at our table, I inhaled the first glass of champagne and immediately grabbed a second glass. By the time the ceremony started, I was starting to feel a lot less overwhelmed. In fact, I was feeling downright comfortable, thanks to my third glass of liquid courage.

              The ceremony was incredible but long. Most people hardly cared about architects or home designers so they allowed celebrities to go up on stage and introduce each designer, discussing what they loved about them so much. This made the whole ceremony hours longer.

              And after seeing the first two or three Hollywood actors up close and in person, the novelty wore off.

              As I sipped another glass of champagne, a voice murmured in my ear, “You need to eat more.”

              I looked up at Jonah who raised a brow towards my dinner plate. The meal was barely touched. But my stomach just couldn’t handle solid food at the moment. I was feeling more relaxed due to the alcohol but that didn’t mean my gut wasn’t still in knots.

              “I’m fine,” I said, taking another sip.

              “You’re cheeks are flushed,” Jonah said, murmuring quietly so as not to be disruptive to the speaker on stage. “You’re getting drunk.”

              “I am not!” I said a little too loudly. One of the women sitting across from me at her table gave me a stern shushing look.

              “I am not,” I said more quietly. “People don’t get drunk on champagne.”

              The corner of Jonah’s lips curled up. “Wanna bet?”

              There was a round of applause as the winner of some award walked off stage.

              I clapped belatedly, unsure who had won and for what.

              Maybe I was getting a
little
tipsy.

              I looked up and caught sight of the beautiful chandeliers that hung over each table. They were gorgeously made and in the dim light of the ballroom, they sparkled like stars.

              “I think you could’ve made something better,” Jonah said next to me, looking up at the chandelier.

              “These are pretty,” I said.

              “You could make them prettier,” he said, confidently.

              I slowly turned my gaze towards him. I looked at him, regarding. “Why are you doing this?”

              He looked down at me. His dark gaze never flickered. “What do you mean?” he asked. But I knew he knew what I meant.

              I paused, gathering my wits about me. I had spent a year creating a whole new life for myself. It was a discredit to my hard work to let it all go in one evening.

              “I’m not the same girl I was a year ago,” I said slowly. “I’m not the girl you knew.”

              Jonah stared at me. I could tell he wanted to touch me. From the look on his face, I could see the need in him to put his hands on me. But we were at a table with other people around us in the middle of full ballroom.

              “Aren’t you?” he asked, his voice deep with meaning. “Aren’t you still the same fearless, creative, sweet woman who—”

              “Stop,” I said, my heart pounding. I couldn’t bear to hear him talk about me like that. Didn’t he know how many tears I had shed for him? And now, he thought he could just waltz back into my life after so callously tossing me away?

              “I’ve worked hard,” I said. “I’ve made a whole career and life for myself. I don’t need you to do some kind of pity penance for me. I can succeed on my own.”

              “This isn’t pity,” he said immediately, his dark eyes burning. “This is…” he seemed to be stumbling for the right words “…This is recognition of talent.”             

              I furrowed my brows. “Then we’re maintaining a solely professional relationship,” I said. “As colleagues, Mr. Lowell.”

              The dark eyes burned like heated coals and I could feel the heat ripple across my body. I tried to ignore the bloom of warmth that seemed to coil within my belly.

              His lips curled into a faint smile. “I understand, Miss Daniels.”