Author: Roni Loren
Maile laughed. “A private island and a free vacation make you a bit more tolerable. Though, if I never have to share a room with you again, it will be too soon.”
“What?” Kade asked, all innocent eyes. “I’ve been good. I’ve even managed to keep myself covered at all times.”
“Thank God. I wouldn’t want to have to gouge my eyes out on top of everything else I’ve been through this week.”
Kelsey lifted her eyebrows. So Maile wasn’t here with Kade. Wyatt’s smile faded as if this was disappointing news.
Kade shrugged. “Maile’s girlfriend apparently keeps things neater at home and doesn’t snore. Though, honestly, I think she’s making the snoring thing up. She can’t possibly hear that all the way on the other side of the suite.”
“Believe me, when you’re up sick all night with food poisoning, you hear everything,” Maile said then sipped her water.
“Maile had the unfortunate luck of eating at the wrong restaurant on the main island before we got on the boat. She’s been knocked down with food poisoning for days.”
“All these weeks I’m counting down to get to see this damn island. And boom, I get here and end up worshipping porcelain.”
“Oh, no,” Kelsey said, her sympathy honest. She’d gotten food poisoning a few years ago and the misery had been second only to detoxing from heroin.
“Oh, well,” Maile said, flipping her long bangs away from her face. “It was a helluva way to lose a few pounds, but at least I was able to get into this dress tonight without a crow bar.”
Kelsey laughed.
A waiter stopped by and poured wine for everyone, iced tea for Kelsey. After Kade took a sip of his Chardonnay, he nodded at the other seats. “So what’s with the empty table?”
Wyatt glanced at the few people still straggling in. “Who knows.”
Kelsey frowned. She knew Wyatt wasn’t saying anything because he didn’t want to share her secrets in front of Maile, but both of them deserved to know. If Kade and Maile were going to sit with them, they needed to be aware it could affect how the others looked at them. She looked to Kade. “People talked. They know I’m not a debutante from down south. And my guess is that most are assuming I’m a hooker who Wyatt paid to come with him.”
“Fuck,” Kade said, scowling.
“So I won’t be offended if y’all want to sit somewhere else. I don’t want either of you suffering the social stink eye because of me. I know you’re here for business connections.”
Kade sniffed. “Screw that. Let them think what they want, judgmental bastards. Half of them probably think I’m fucking my assistant, so what does it matter?”
“That’s acceptable, apparently,” Wyatt said, leaning his elbows on the table. “But not being a trust fund baby? That’s a cardinal sin.”
“Mind if we join you?” a male voice asked.
Kelsey turned her head, surprised to see Ferris and Mrs. Pritchard standing there.
“Absolutely,” Wyatt said, standing up to help Mrs. Pritchard with her chair.
Mrs. Pritchard made a show of arranging her elaborate sparkly gold dress before settling in her chair. She sent Kelsey a sly smile. “I overruled Ferris on the outfit tonight. I couldn’t pass this one up. I feel like the sun.”
Ferris patted his mother’s shoulder before taking his seat. “She just wants everyone revolving around her.”
Introductions were made all around the table, and Ferris made drink orders for him and his mom. Kelsey shifted in her seat, not sure how to approach the new visitors. They’d been friendly with each other since that first night and she’d grown to like the quirky mother and son, but she had no idea if either of them had heard the gossip or not. The thought of lying to them made her nauseous. They’d been nothing but kind to her, and now she felt like an impostor.
But before she could even formulate a plan, Mrs. Pritchard pinned her with those heavily shadowed eyes. “So the idiot mill is saying you’re an escort. Please tell me which imbecile started that so I can hit them with my heavy purse.”
Kelsey’s throat went dry. “I, uh . . .”
Ferris put a gentle hand on his mom’s wrist. “Mother, please.”
She waved him off. “Don’t manage me, Ferris. There’s no one in this room who can convince me Wyatt paid Kelsey to sleep with him. First of all, have you seen Wyatt?”
Ferris coughed and went red at the same time.
“Exactly. As if he’d have to pay for a girl . . . or a guy,” Mrs. Pritchard said with a curt shake of her head as she turned back to Kelsey and Wyatt. “And second of all, I see how you two look at each other.” She tapped her temple then pointed at them. “I’ve been in the wedding business long enough to know when there are real feelings there.”
Kelsey stared at her in stunned silence for a moment, then managed a feeble reply. “I’m not an escort.”
“Of course not, darling,” Mrs. Pritchard said kindly. “I didn’t believe that for a moment.”
“But I did lie. My last name is LeBreck, not Adams. I’m not from a wealthy family,” Kelsey said, feeling compelled to be honest with the woman who’d shirked off gossip without doubt. “And I have things in my past I’m not proud of.”
Mrs. Pritchard accepted her drink from the waiter and took a prim sip. “Darling, don’t we all. I could make a fortune on blackmail with the stuff I know about the people in this room alone. Don’t you let all that ugly talk get to you. People only whisper about others because they’re afraid if they don’t give the mill fodder, they’ll end up getting whispered about.”
Wyatt reached out for Mrs. Pritchard’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you, Mrs. Pritchard. I remember why you were always my favorite mom on the block.”
She blushed a bit at that. “Oh, stop it, you charming boy. And don’t think that lets you off the hook. I still expect to get your business when you decide to marry this girl.”
He barked a laugh. “I wouldn’t think of calling anyone else.”
Kelsey dragged her teeth over her bottom lip, a pang of emptiness echoing through her. Wyatt sounded so genuine when he said it. Like there really was this possibility in the future. He was a better liar than she gave him credit for.
But she was pulled from her thoughts when the spotlights at the front of the room went on and the performer was introduced. A magician. Joy. Just what she needed tonight—more illusions.
The show went on for thirty minutes without incident. The guy was good. Kelsey would give him that. But her attention kept wandering to the people at the tables around her. As soon as she’d meet anyone’s gaze, they’d avert their eyes. If Wyatt leaned over to whisper something to her, others would whisper, too. It was unnerving and frustrating and after a while, plain pissing her off. But she kept repeating Wyatt’s words in her head. She would not show shame in front of these people. She would not give them the satisfaction of letting them know they were getting to her.
And right when she settled down a bit, feeling calmer and more steady, all had to get shot to hell in one simple request. “I need a volunteer for this next part. How about you, my lovely?”
Kelsey’s focus snapped forward as the spotlight from up front swung and landed on her. She blinked into the bright light. “What?”
The magician was stepping to the far end of the stage, holding his hand out toward her. “Miss, would you mind being my next victim?”
The audience tittered, but Kelsey barely heard it over the pounding in her ears. She shook her head.
“Aw, come on,” the magician cajoled, smiling wide. “I promise this won’t hurt a bit. You even get a prize for volunteering.”
She shook her head again.
“Maybe you should offer to pay her,” an unidentified male voice in the back said. “I’ve heard that works with her.”
The crowd laughed, but this time the sound had a knife edge to it, slicing right through Kelsey. Wyatt’s head whipped around, his body bowing up beside her as he looked for whoever had made the snide remark. “Motherfu—”
She laid a hand on his forearm and pushed herself out of her chair. “It’s fine. I’ll do it.”
Wyatt’s attention swiveled her way. “Baby, you—”
But she was already moving forward like a wooden doll, one foot in front of the other, not thinking, just doing. Like she used to do when she’d walk up on that stage at the club. It wasn’t really happening if you turned your mind off.
Once she made it to the stage, she went through the motions of the trick without seeing the people in the audience. The lights were bright and she was on autopilot. Manny the magician put her in a box and made her disappear. She’d wished it were more than a trick and that it had worked, that she’d spring up back in her apartment far away from all this scrutiny. But after a few moments of being “gone,” Manny brought her back into the box and she reappeared in front of everyone. They clapped. But she knew it wasn’t for her.
It was the finale of the show and he kept her on stage at his side as he wrapped things up. The house lights came on so Manny could see the audience, and Kelsey tried to keep her focus on the back wall, but soon found her attention drifting from table to table. Every kind of expression stared back at her—curiosity, sneers, judgmental glares. Andrew Carmichael’s gaze held lewd interest. Jackass.
Each new face made her feel smaller and smaller, cast out. She had the urge to look down at her feet. But when she forced her eyes to her own table, she found nothing but kind smiles from her friends and a thumbs-up from Maile. And Wyatt . . . the way he was looking at her nearly buckled her knees. There was a combination of pride and something else in his expression, something she couldn’t even absorb. But it straightened her spine nonetheless.
If he could look at her like that, with no reservations or fear, then she damn well could stand up in front of everyone and keep her head up. He was right. Who the fuck were these people anyway?
Manny put a hand on her shoulder. “And Kelsey, for being such a good sport, Mr. Carmichael has offered a prize of five thousand dollars to your favorite charity.”
“Oh,” she said. “Thanks.”
The older man smiled. “Why don’t you tell us the name of your preferred charity and why it’s so important to you so that maybe these lovely people will want to donate as well?”
He handed her the microphone and Kelsey panicked for a moment. Charity? The only charitable donations she’d ever made were clothes to Goodwill and the occasional dollar dropped in the buckets of the homeless people who haunted the corners of her old neighborhood. But as she held the microphone, staring out at the crowd, a sense of calm determination welled up in her. She knew exactly the place she wanted for the donation.
She cleared her throat and brought the microphone closer to her mouth, only the slightest tremor in her hand. “I’d like the money donated to the Women’s Crisis Center of Dallas.” She smoothed her lipstick, building her courage for the why part. “Because they help women when they have nowhere else to turn. And because they helped me.”
Manny’s dark brown eyes were soft as he took the microphone back. “Thank you, Kelsey. That sounds like a very worthy recipient.”
She nodded, clasping her shaking hands in front of her. So there it was. Out there on her own terms. If those souls in the crowd wanted to judge her or her past, so be it. She was done hiding it.
Time to own it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Wyatt propped his head on his hand, staring down at a vision he didn’t think he’d ever get the pleasure of seeing. He glanced at the clock. Six A.M.
She was still here. Kelsey had made it the whole night without sneaking off to the couch. Warmth moved up through his chest, lifting a smile on his lips. He brushed a lock of her hair off her cheek, fanning it across the pillow with the rest of her blonde mane. She was beautiful always, but never had he been so taken with anyone as when she had stood on that stage last night, her chin tipped upward as she’d chosen her charity. She’d silenced a whole room of backbiters, making them look like assholes in the classiest way possible.