“Thank you. My fiancé thinks so too.”
Assuming I meant Gage was the man I planned to marry, he began to chatter on about how lucky he was to have me as his intended. I smiled, more at my cloaked reference than Phillip’s compliments. I had to find the bright spot in all this somehow.
With his new suit in hand, Gage escorted me to the front door of the store, stopping just before we stepped outside. Leaning down, he whispered, “Plans have changed. Daryl’s made sure we’re seen. He wants us to go to Malone’s a few blocks away for lunch instead of dinner. I’m assuming the men standing around outside are here for us, so be ready.”
I looked out the glass doors and saw the small crowd of men I recognized as photographers waiting for us. Daryl sure did know how to put on a show. Taking a deep breath, I walked past Gage as he held the door, very much like the boyfriend he was playacting but leaving me wide open for the throng of press to surge toward me. Instantly overwhelmed, I was surrounded by a sea of eager faces pushing toward me as their cameras flashed. I frantically looked around for Gage as I scrambled to make my way to the car, totally unprepared for how close they got to me. From all sides, they yelled for me to look their way, wanting to know how I was holding up with Tristan gone and presumed dead and how long I’d been with my bodyguard. The insinuation was clear—I was a heartless bitch who could forget one man easily and replace him with another even easier.
Something deep inside pushed me to answer that I still loved Tristan, but when I opened my mouth to speak, Gage inserted himself in between me and the men, shielding me from them and quickly getting the two of us into the car. “Jensen, we need to get to Malone’s. The quicker the better too,” he said calmly as I struggled to stop my hands from shaking.
Turning toward me, he frowned. “Are you okay? I’m sorry about that. I was so wrapped up in acting like a boyfriend that I didn’t do my job as your bodyguard. That’s always got to be my first concern, no matter what Daryl wants. I need to remember that.”
I heard in his voice the anger he was feeling. Trying to help, I rested my palm on his forearm. “It’s okay. Nothing bad happened. We’re good. I’m Jezebel and the press is eating it up like it’s candy.”
“Nina, although I’m not entirely clear on what danger you may be in, I do know a slip up like that could let someone close enough to really hurt you. My job is to make sure that never happens. We may be pretending to play house, but Tristan Stone expects me to keep you safe from every kind of danger, even one that only looks like a nuisance like those photographers.”
I hung my head, not caring about whatever danger there was around me. Those photographers had gotten to me, their words echoing in my mind. Who’s the new man, Nina? How long have you been together? What do you plan to do if Tristan Stone ever returns?
The mere thought of Tristan’s return as an if instead of a when hurt. I’d thought with Gage’s help I could do this pretending thing, but I didn’t realize it would be so hard. I didn’t want to be with anyone else, and making people think I did felt wrong.
“You okay?”
I looked over at Gage and forced a smile. “I’m fine. I just wasn’t ready for that.”
“They’re vipers, but that’s their job. If you think about it that way, it might be easier.”
Looking down at my left hand as it rested on top of my other one in my lap, I regretted ever agreeing to this. The finger where my engagement ring should have been looked like I felt. Empty.
“I guess. I want to go home.”
“We need to eat at Malone’s before we get to head home,” he said, sounding almost apologetic.
“Fine. We’ll do that, but then I want to go home.”
Chapter Seven
Nina
Malone’s was exactly the kind of place I dreaded and exactly the kind of place I knew Daryl would send us to. Small and intimate, it was dark even in the daylight and screamed romantic rendezvous. God, I wished Daryl wasn’t so good at this.
The hostess escorted us to a table near a window looking directly out to the street. I quietly protested, but Gage simply showed me his phone and a text from Daryl indicating this was exactly where he’d arranged for us to be seen.
Fucking fabulous.
I held the menu up in front of my face as a small group of photographers began to gather outside. Nothing on it sounded even remotely appetizing, but I tried to convince myself that as long as the bar could whip up a chocolate martini or two, I might make it through our latest performance.
“Nina, I understand you’re not happy, but hiding behind the menu isn’t really what Daryl wants, I’m guessing.”
“I don’t care what he wants,” I said from behind my menu.
The waiter arrived to take our order, entirely too chipper for my mood. I listened as Gage ordered his meal of a steak cooked medium and roasted red bliss potatoes with steamed asparagus dressed in parmesan. Ordinarily, that would have sounded good, but at that moment, just the thought of it nearly made me sick.
“What will Miss be having?” the waiter asked as he turned and looked down at me.
“Chocolate martini. Make sure the glass is sugared.”
He tugged on my menu, forcing it from my hand, and smiled fakely before turning away. I looked across the table at Gage and saw a look of pity on his face. I hated his pity. Self-pity I was all about, but pity from someone who barely knew me just felt wrong.
“Liquid lunch?”
“Yeah.”
We sat in silence as the waiter brought Gage’s soda and my martini, the crowd outside growing the whole time. What the fuck had Daryl told them? Did they think they would catch us having sex right there in the window of Malone’s?
Gage slid his hand across the table to touch mine. “Nina, I know this is hard, but we have to try.”
“I don’t want to try. I want to drink. I want to forget that I’m sitting here with people watching our every move and waiting for us to act like we care about each other.”
“Maybe if I tell you something about me and Angela that might help?”
“Sure,” I mumbled as I focused on the taste of my martini as it sat on my tongue, all chocolately goodness.
He didn’t move his hand away, keeping it on top of mine and giving the photographers something to snap away at, which they did. Every part of me wanted to take my hand back, but I kept it there as he began to tell the tale of the woman he’d loved.