The Lover's Surrender (No Exceptions) (19 page)

I stared at
him, my heart skipping several beats.

Was this
seriously happening?

We had
spent weeks choosing a name, schools, education, but we had never discussed
what would happen to
us
after our
child’s birth. That had worried me because I had no idea which direction our
relationship would be taking. A slow smile spread across my face as the knots
in my stomach began to dissipate, replaced by a feeling of happiness.

“I would
love to,” I whispered. “But your apartment—”

“Is not
ideal for a child, I know,” he cut me off. “Give me a few days and I’ll think
of something.” He smiled gently, picking a strand of my hair and twisting it
between his fingers. “It’s no longer just about us, Brooke. It’s all about you,
and me, and our baby. We’ll soon be a family.”

That
sounded like heaven.

I smiled
and brushed my fingertips over his face, tracing the contours of his chin.

“You’re
really beautiful, Brooke. I mean it,” he whispered, leaning into me. His warm
breath caressed my earlobe, and for a moment, I closed my eyes to savor the
sensation. When his arm slid around my waist, I almost feared the charity event
would take place without us. “You look exactly like the kind of woman I want to
marry.”

“You don’t
look so bad, either,” I whispered, rising on my toes to nibble on his neck.

Now that
was a big, fat lie.

Jett looked
absolutely breathtaking. Stunningly gorgeous.

The dark
suit he was wearing brought out the mysterious glint in his eyes. Even though I
was used to seeing him dressed for the occasion by now, something about him was
different tonight.

He seemed
so—

Dark.

Confident.

Broody,
even.

He was
probably in one of those moods that turned his eyes a darker shade of green and
gave him a haunted look.

The kind of
mood that always made my panties wet.

Clasping my
hands behind his neck, I placed a soft kiss on his lips. His answer was
instant.

Burning
ardor.

His mouth
briefly met mine, then moved on to my neck, his tongue trailing down to my
exposed shoulder.

“I thought
we needed to go,” I whispered and instantly cursed myself for not being able to
keep my mouth shut.

“Damn.” He
pulled away with a pained expression on his handsome face. “If we weren’t
already late, I would fuck you right here and now.”

“Now that’s
a fine promise.” My lips curled up at his words. “There’s always later.”

“I’ll count
on it,” he said and slapped my ass, sending me out of the bathroom laughing.

To call the
New York City charity fashion show crowded was an understatement. I had no idea
the place was going to be so huge and magnificent with so many beautiful people
huddled together. Cameras blitzed everywhere, the flashes bright and blinding.

The thick
red rug muffled the sound of my high heels as we ascended a flight of stairs to
the entrance, past the ushers and what looked like hundreds of journalists that
had been camping out for days.

As the
cameras began to flash, Jett’s arm went possessively around my waist, and I
tensed, unsure where to look.

This was
not the kind of life I grew up with. I knew for a fact that I’d never belong,
no matter what I did and how much I tried.

Our
mid-class little white house that had seen better days had been a far cry from
the marble floors, designer dresses, and million-dollar diamonds around me.

“Mr.
Mayfield. Jett!” someone yelled, and others followed suit.

“Who is
she?”

“Are you
dating?”

“Are you
excited to watch the live fashion show?”

Someone
shouted, “Look, she has a ring. Jett, are you engaged? When’s the wedding?”

The crowd
went berserk, the questions culminating in a crescendo—about me, about
us.

Jett
stopped, and his grip around my waist tightened as he turned, forcing me to
face the hailstorm of flashing cameras. He didn’t seem affected, or the least
bit nervous. It seemed in every way as if he had done it dozens of times
before, which he probably had, given that he was rich and, until recently,
NYC’s most eligible bachelor.

My heart stopped
as he pulled me forward—toward the crowd of journalists.

“Jett, is
this your new girlfriend?” A guy stretched out a microphone. As Jett cleared
his voice all of a sudden everyone became quiet.

“Actually,
we’ve been dating for some time,” he said in a clear and loud voice that
carried no shaking, no signs that he was nervous. He squeezed his arm around my
waist possessively. “May I introduce you my fiancée, Brooke Stewart?”

“When did
you propose?” someone shouted from the back of the crowd.

“November
25
^th
.” He smiled proudly.

“Today?”
they asked in unison.

“That’s
correct.” He flashed another gorgeous smile. “I couldn’t wait any longer to
take this stunning woman off the market.” His words trigged out laughs in the
crowed. To my bewilderment, Jett turned to me. “The truth is, it was love at
first sight, and we’re expecting our first child.”

I put on
the slightest hint of a smile and waited out the storm. More questions came,
alternated with congratulations, and more questions, but Jett answered them all.

After what
seemed like an eternity, Jett moved us along, and we continued our way to the
lobby.

“See, it
wasn’t that bad, was it?” he whispered in my ear.

I nodded,
feeling high from all the adrenaline. “I can’t believe you told them. Now we’ll
be in the papers.”

He laughed
out loud as he turned to regard me. “That was the plan. You know, I cannot let
you stay in the shadows forever. Or how else could I explain it if we’re
married by next week?”

My heart
stopped. My whole body felt faint.

“You want
to get married next week?” I asked in disbelief.

“Actually I
want to get married this weekend. Just a small wedding, before we plan our big
one. What do you think?” His words were casual, as if he were talking about the
menu in a restaurant.

“Jett…I
don’t know what to say.”

“What
about, I love you?”

“You know I
love you.”

“Then marry
me this weekend.” He touched my cheek gently, heedless of the crowd that had
begun to spill in around us. “Brooke, I don’t want to wait any longer. I don’t
want to have the stress of planning a wedding while fearing you could change
your mind and leave me at the altar.”

I shook my
head. “I would never do that.”

“Yeah,”
Jett said, unconvinced. “So what do you say?”

“You know I
would never say no.”

***

It was
slowly becoming packed as we weaved through the crowd.

Wherever I
looked, more people arrived in stunning designer wear that probably cost a
fortune. I even recognized some of those faces, adding names and movies.

There was
the major with his wife and children, and then there were A-list celebrities.
And then there was Grayson.

That’s
right.

Grayson.

I stopped,
suddenly extremely surprised to see someone I knew.

He was
standing to my right, sipping champagne as he talked with what looked like the
tallest blond woman I had ever seen.

 
“Brooke?” Jett prompted, his voice
jolting me out of my thoughts. Realizing that it might not be such a good idea
to let Jett see me stare at another guy, I turned away, hiding my face with my
hand, but it was too late.

Grayson’s
head turned to me, and our eyes connected across the short distance. As
recognition dawned on him, his lips curled at the corners. He leaned forward,
whispering something to the blonde, and before I knew it, he was heading for
us.

Alone.

Damn.

“Oh, my
God,” I gasped.

It was too
late to back out. But I had to try. If only I knew how?

Jett’s hand
on the small of my back became firm as he guided me further into the crowd,
toward Grayson, and for a split second, I pondered whether to just to turn
around and dash for the exit, or let the inevitable take place and risk
igniting Jett’s extremely jealous nature.

When my
gaze fell on the bar on the west side, an idea occurred to me.

“Jett!” I
tugged at his sleeve to get his attention, the words gushing out of me in a
nervous frenzy. “Can you get me a drink?” I smiled weakly as he looked at me.
“I’m feeling awfully thirsty. In fact, if I don’t get something to drink right
now, I think I might black out.”

Which
wasn’t even a lie. I couldn’t deal with another discussion, or worse yet,
another fight, and particularly not with one that was unjustified.

His face
crumpled with worry. “Are you okay?”

I nodded
unconvincingly. Behind Jett’s shoulders, I watched Grayson forcing his way
through the gathering crowds, stopping here and there to exchange a few words,
but his gaze remained focused on us. If I didn’t get rid of Jett right now, I’d
have to introduce Grayson to him.

Think, Stewart. Think.

The
modeling job had been a temporary thing to earn some money. But now, with the
possibility of Jett being a murder suspect and me being officially engaged to
one of the richest men in the world, I knew I couldn’t return to it. Besides, I
couldn’t go back to the one place where I met Gina. I wanted to move on, rather
than risk being officially branded as an erotic model, and risk harming Jett’s
reputation along the way.

“I’m fine.
It’s nerves.” I smiled weakly. Jett’s frown deepened.

Did he
have
to be so uncanny in his ability to
sense my emotional undercurrents?

“Relax,” I
said, infusing more confidence into my tone than I actually felt. “I’ve barely
had any water today, and the one cup of coffee has made me a bit dizzy. I’m
just a little bit dehydrated, so stop worrying all the time.”

“I’ll be
back in a second.” He pointed a finger to the marble floor beneath us. “You
don’t move from this spot. Okay?”

I scoffed
and fought the urge to roll my eyes. “As if I’d go anywhere without you.”

“I’m
serious, Brooke.”

“So am I.”
I motioned with my hand. “Come on.”

Jett had
barely turned his back on me, disappearing through the crowd, when Grayson
reached me. A smile was still plastered on his face as he stepped in front of
me, ignoring the crowd of people around us.

Dressed in
a dark blue tailored suit with a matching gray tie, he looked more business
like than I had ever seen him. Suddenly, my stomach filled with ice.

I didn’t
know the guy. I couldn’t trust anyone. Because it was too late to dash after
Jett, I had to be careful around him.

Mustering
the brightest and most confident smile I had, I waved at him. “Hi.”

“Look who’s
here!” Grayson smiled again and leaned forward. For a moment, I thought he
might be about to grab me in a bear hug or kiss my cheek. But he did neither of
those.

I laughed
nervously. “What can I say? It’s a small world.”

“I’m
surprised to see you here.”

“So am I.”
I shrugged, inwardly scolding myself for fostering the conversation. Grayson’s
gaze followed mine as I searched the crowd for Jett and spied him at the bar,
towering over everyone else.

“I didn’t
realize you knew him,” Grayson said, somewhat surprised.

 
“Who?” In my uncomfortable state, I
didn’t realize that he must have seen Jett and me together. My brows furrowed.

“Jett
Mayfield.” Grayson regarded me for a long moment, his smile vanishing. “I need
to be frank, Jenna. I’m not happy about you dating my client.”

My stomach
flipped and my mind skidded to a halt as I eyed him, wondering if I had heard
right.

“Client?” I
asked carefully.

“Yes,
client.” He cocked his head, a disappointed scowl on his face. “Mr. Mayfield
met up with me yesterday to discuss your work. He wants you to be exclusive to
him, so he bought all your shots. An unusual request, I have to say, but then
again, some of my clients like to think a girl belongs only to them. I call it
something like a fixation.”

My jaw
dropped.

Jett had
bought my pictures?

How the
hell did he even know about them when I had only mentioned the job that
morning?

Grayson
probably misinterpreted my stunned silence because he continued, unfazed. “You
could have so much going for you, Jenna. A client with a fixation on a pregnant
woman’s body is a rare gem. For your sake, I advise you keep a professional
distance. That is, if you want more work and better pay. Otherwise, he’ll lose
interest before you know it, which would be bad for your future career.”

For a few
seconds, I just stood there, rooted to the spot, as his words sunk in.

Jett bought all of my pictures.

Not just one or two. But all, past and future.

“Actually,
I don’t think there’s a need for that,” I found myself saying. “I’ve decided to
quit.”

I raised my
chin and took a deep breath. Grayson stared at me.

“Mr.
Mayfield is a very influential man,” Grayson started. “Some of my models decide
to go that route, taking on an offer that sounds like it would solve all their
problems. He’ll take care of you as long as—”

At my
warning scowl, he trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken.

“He didn’t
pay me to quit, if that’s what you’re implying,” I said dryly. “And for your
information, Mr. Mayfield is my fiancé. I’m quitting for a different reason.”

“Oh, I see.”
His gaze brushed over my strategically placed hand and the diamond ring
sparkling in the lights. I could almost see the penny dropping. A short frown
crossed his face, and his eyes narrowed, but it disappeared quickly. When he
spoke again, his voice was soft, and concern was etched on his face.

“So, why?
If you don’t mind me asking.”

Shrugging
uncomfortably, I racked my mind for all the excuses I had come up with, but my
mind remained surprisingly blank. There were too many to go into detail.

“I’m sorry,”
I said, deciding not to go into specifics.

“Don’t
apologize.” He nodded knowingly, as though he might have expected it from me.
“Gina’s death was a blow to us all. I understand that, given the circumstances,
you have changed your mind about working for me.