"I better get going. I've got my work cut out for me," I said with a forced smile.
Tristan took a sip of his scotch. "Dinner is at six, Nina. I hope I'll see you there."
Nothing in the way he said that told me he hoped anything. It was a clear command that I join him for dinner. What wasn't clear was if I'd obey.
Just a few hours later, I'd found some great pieces and was hungry, despite my wishing I wasn't. Tristan hadn't bothered me while I'd worked, but now as six o'clock loomed, I heard him in the outside room pouring himself another drink. The aroma of the dinner he'd ordered in wafted through to where I stood looking at myself in the mirror.
I would have known that delicious smell anywhere. He'd ordered roast beef.
A peace offering?
I stared into the mirror at the face that looked back at me and asked her, "What do I do? Do I let him back in?"
My reflection didn't have the answer either, and I walked out to find Tristan standing in the middle of the main room in a tux. My heart sank. He was going to do it again. I'd sit there alone in that room eating my roast beef he'd so graciously given me while he spent the night out on the town in Dallas with another gorgeous blonde or brunette.
Before I could say all the terrible things that were begging to be let out of my mouth, he took my hand and kissed the back of it. "I seem to be a little overdressed. Perhaps you should change so I'm not all alone in this getup."
"Why? So you can go meet up with your blond girlfriend and I can sit here like some teenage girl stood up for the prom?" I snapped.
"Blonde?" he asked, looking genuinely confused as to how I knew who he'd spent his time with the night before.
"I saw your girlfriend. Nice lips. Does she mind that you look like a statue when you're with her? I think I have it all figured out, Tristan. You want someone who looks like her for in public, but you want someone who makes you smile like I do in private. Well, sorry. Maybe you should figure out how you can make her do the things that make you happy because I won't be some in-house concubine you keep hidden from everyone but your fucking butler and other household help."
My outburst surprised him for a moment, but then he just smiled. "Oh, you mean Janelle. You misunderstand. She's not my girlfriend. She's paid to be with me at those affairs."
"Paid? You pay a hooker to go with you instead of taking me? And this is supposed to make me feel better?"
A look of distaste crossed his features. "No. She's not a hooker. She's a..."
Waving my hand, I cut him off. "Fine. You're too wealthy for a hooker. What do they call them for someone like you? Call girls? Escorts? Either way, it's still you paying someone to be there instead of being seen with me."
"Nina, you've got it all wrong. She's not there to have sex with or even to date. She's there to act."
"Act? What do you mean, act?" I asked, completely baffled.
"Janelle is an actress who's an employee of mine. My company compensates her to appear at functions like the charity event and act like my girlfriend. There are about half a dozen who I pay very well to pretend I'm with them. Their entire job is to be at my beck and call so I don't have to attend those things alone. I can't imagine it's that bad a job, especially since I pay them handsomely."
I sat down on the chair nearby and struggled to process what he was saying. Who hired people to act like their dates? Jordan was right. Wealthy people did hire people to do their work for them.
"Why not just have a real girlfriend and take her? Is it because I'm not stunning like them?" I hadn't meant to sound so pathetic, but the words had come out far sadder than intended.
He knelt down in front of me and took my hands in his. "I don't take real girlfriends to those things because the press is always there and I learned my lesson a long time ago. It doesn't take long before having to be in front of cameras all the time takes its toll on a relationship. The board of directors likes me to present a successful image, and to them that means having a woman on my arm at all official events."
"Oh. So they aren't even ex-girlfriends?"
Smiling, he said, "No. Just actresses who agree to act like my girlfriends for a lot of money." He leaned forward and kissed me softly on the lips before he whispered, "You are stunning, Nina. And unlike those women, I want to be with you."