Page 58 of Love and Lies

So for the next half hour I tried to concentrate on the conversation at my own table. Which wasn’t easy, since I had one ear on whatever Jess was saying to Celia, who was leaning so far toward him she was practically sitting in his lap.

“To what do we owe the honor, anyway?” she purred. “I got a look at the guest list last week, and you weren’t on it, only your mother.”

“She asked me to come at the last minute,” he replied, giving her a smile. A noncommittal one, but it prickled me all the same.

“Well, I should be thanking her, then.” Celia beamed at him. “These events are usually pretty boring, but it should be an interesting evening now that you’re here.”

I glanced over, but Jess didn’t meet my eye, and I looked down at my plate again quickly. If anyone noticed that I was the least bit agitated in his company, there would be talk.

“Helena?” Celia’s brother, Wilson—his parents must have really hated him to give him that name—cut in at that moment, drawing my attention away from Jess. “I heard you’re studying psychology. How fascinating.”

I almost sighed in irritation, but I managed to get ahold of myself and responded as politely as I could.

The entrées came and went, while Celia continued to flirt with Jess, and I gripped my fork ever more tightly with each laugh from their corner of the table. It was so fucking unfair that someone like Celia was allowed to sit next to him, talk to him, while I had to be bored to death by Wilson Woodraw talking politics on the other side of the table. I couldn’t help it; it was so frustrating it was driving me crazy.

“Everything okay over there?” Wilson was staring at me. “You look like you’re not feeling well.”

If even Wilson could tell that something was off, maybe it was time I went outside for some air, and to get my act together before everyone else in the room caught on. So I stood up, excused myself by saying I wanted to freshen up, and made for the door. Luckily, people were mingling between tables before dessert anyway, so my leaving didn’t draw attention.

Outside the room, I glanced left and right to gauge the quickest way to leave the building. At the end of a long corridor, there seemed to be a doorway onto what looked like a well-lit terrace. But just as I turned toward it, I saw something in my peripheral vision—someone was heading down the stairs toward the doors. No, not just someone—Carter Fields making an exit before dessert, as usual, to continue the party in some club or other. This was my chance to go after him and ask about Pratt and the drugs. My whole reason for coming tonight.

I followed as fast as I could in my high heels, and almost caught up with him before he got outside. I had just opened my mouth to stop him, when someone else got there first—another man in a suit, whom he clearly knew. They shook hands, and the pair of them left the hotel together while I hung back, watching, unable to do a thing. That had been my chance, and I’d blown it. And why? I’d been too busy getting mad at the hand dealt to me tonight to pay attention to Carter and his movements.

I let out a sigh of frustration, trying to swallow my disappointment. I’d get another opportunity to talk to him, I knew that. It was just that sooner was better than later.

It might have been fruitless going after Carter, but at least it had had the same effect as getting some fresh air, in that I felt sufficiently bolstered to return to the dinner. As for Jess and Celia, I decided to just let it all wash over me, make my excuses as quickly as possible, and go back to my room.

I made my way back toward the reception room. They must have been about to serve dessert, as the corridor was almost empty. Only one man stood at the very back of the hallway. When I realized who it was, I stopped. Jess. He had his hands in his pockets, and he was looking right at me as though waiting for me. Was he? Or was it just coincidence?

Just as I was wondering whether to risk talking to him in public, he stepped to the side and vanished behind a dark green curtain. I looked around, but no one had seen him, so I went to the spot where he had disappeared. My heart was beating out of my chest as I reached for the heavy velvet material. I pushed past and found myself in a kind of anteroom containing a few chairs and a low coffee table. Jess stood at the window, watching me expectantly.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” I replied. I thought about Celia’s smile, and suddenly my frustration was back.

“Are you okay?” asked Jess. “You don’t seem very happy this evening.”

“Yeah, unlike you,” I scoffed. It was a childish thing to say—Celia was the one flirting with him, after all, not the other way around. But this whole crappy situation was unfair, so I wasn’t being fair either.

“Are you serious?” Jess sounded amused. “You don’t actually think I’m interested in Celia Woodraw?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Without realizing, I’d clenched my hands into fists, and I forced myself to unfurl them now. “It didn’t exactly seem like you weren’t interested, the way you were talking to each other.”

“You want me to talk to you instead?” The amused tone was gone. I looked up, and saw that he was piqued. “In front of your family? In front of everyone in the room?”

He was baiting me. I knew it, but I still had no defense against it. “Of course not,” I shot back, more forcefully than I’d meant to. “Still, you didn’t have to…” I broke off, realizing I was making a fool of myself. I had no claim to Jessiah Coldwell, just because we’d shared a pizza at Bella Ciao.

Jess took a step toward me. “You think I’m enjoying pretending to be interested in whatever Celia’s saying to me while you’re sitting right there?”

“Well, if not, then you’re a really good actor,” I replied.

“Yeah, I am, because I have to be.” Something in his voice made me look up again. “You have no idea how sick it makes me to have to pretend to everyone out there that I don’t know you. When what I actually want to do is something else entirely.”

Without realizing it, we’d moved closer to each other; Jess was just one step away now. I was close enough to study the details of his face—the hair falling across his forehead, his mouth, and most of all, the expression in his green eyes, more alive than anything I’d ever seen. How was I supposed to stay away from him? Right now it felt impossible. No matter what I’d told myself the last time we met.

“And what’s that?” I asked softly.

“You know what,” he replied, just as softly.