Chapter Twelve
The look on Tyler’s face when I told him I wanted to see Buckingham Palace was hilarious. It was a cross between exasperation and helplessness.
I promised myself years ago that, if I ever got to London, the palace would be the first place I visited. Now, sitting in the back of a black cab and driving to Tyler’s favorite restaurant for an early dinner, I’m glad I saw it.
And despite his initial grumbling, Tyler didn’t exactly hate trying to make a guard laugh.
“One of those hats would suit me. What do you think?”
I look across the car at him and shake my head. “Really? No.”
He pouts. “I’m not sure I know what to do with a woman who doesn’t fall at my feet.”
“You act like a gentleman.”
“Is that what they do nowadays? Bloody hell. I’m not a door-opening kind of guy. Unless it’s to my bedroom, of course. Then I’m as close to a gentleman as they come—if you ignore the rough bits around the edges.” He winks and hands the driver some money, telling him to keep the change.
I rest my hand on the door handle, but he shakes his head and jumps from the car. My eyebrows shoot up, and he appears at my window a second later with a cocky smile on his face. I shake my head when he opens the door and holds out his hand.
“M’lady.”
I laugh and take it, stepping from the car. “You’re an idiot, Tyler.”
“I’m being a gentleman. Aaron would hold good on his threat to render my cock useless if I were anything less than one. And”—he pauses as he opens the restaurant door—“I have to admit to being rather attached to it.”
We’re immediately led to a table when the host recognizes Tyler. But not just any table—the best available table. It hits me now that, despite his relaxed, carefree attitude, Tyler is in London what Aaron is in Seattle. Well-known. Respected. The upper class.
Our drinks are served within a minute of us taking our seats, and there’s no great long wait for food like I’m seeing for some others. There’s a mix of both familiar and unfamiliar faces here—the familiar ones being people I’ve seen on the insides of glossy magazines and once or twice on television.
Holy shit. London is the British L.A. It’s celebrity central in this place.
I somehow manage to make it through dinner without drooling over my plate. Tyler sits opposite me, completely unaffected.
My job has taken me to places I never imagined I’d visit and introduced me to people with a standing so high I shouldn’t rightfully be alongside them, but there’s rich and then there’s rich.
Watching Aaron’s cousin so at home in this obviously exclusive restaurant, I know what bracket he and Aaron fall in.
Stinking f*cking rich.
I know Naomi said that Aaron would be the one to tip the business over the billion-dollar mark, but I don’t think it sank in. I don’t think it’s hit me until now how much money he really does have.
How dangerous it could be if the knowledge of who I am, who I was, was made public.
“Dayton?” Tyler waves his hand in front of my face. “Are you okay?”
I blink harshly and turn to him. “Yes. Sorry. I was just thinking for a moment.”
“Would you like pudding, or…?”
“I’ll have a dessert.” Aaron sits on the seat next to me and adjusts his tie. “I’m starving.”
“Well, hello.” I shift my body so I’m facing him. “How did you know we were here?”
“I’m Aaron Stone. I can find out anything.” He winks and grabs the menu. “Has Tyler been behaving himself?”
I wink across the table at the man in question. “He’s been a real gentleman. Even opened doors for me.”
“Is he sick?”
“If we weren’t in such an exclusive establishment, I’d have a few choice words for you,” Tyler retorts. “And I’m perfectly healthy, thank you.”
“Perhaps there’s hope for you yet, my man.” Aaron turns to me. “I think I’ll have the chocolate fudge cake. What about you?”
“I’ll have the same.”
“Ty?”
“Not for me. I’m going to end my dry spell.” He stands and brushes his shirt off.
“Dry spell.” Aaron snorts. “Forty-eight hours?”
“Thirty-six. I’m never going the extra twelve again.” He motions to a waiter. “I likely won’t be back home tonight.”
“Don’t forget you have a shoot tomorrow,” Aaron looks up at him.
“Lingerie, isn’t it? With Jenna Kelly?”
Aaron nods. “For Catalina. In the office studios.”
“Shit. I hate shooting in those. I’m sending in my own lights this time. Last time, we had to rebook.” Tyler runs his hand through his messy hair and looks to me. “Wanna tag along?”
“Am I allowed?” I look between them both.
“You’re the boss’s girlfriend. You can do whatever the hell you want,” Tyler answers.
Aaron smirks. “You can if you want to. I’m working all day.”
I narrow my eyes and tap his arm. “Is this a setup? The last time I went to a shoot, I ended up being shot.”
“Photographically, I hope.” Tyler laughs. “No setup. I promise.”
“Sure. I’ll go.”
“I’ll pick you up at ten.” He takes his jacket from the waiter. “See ya.”
Aaron orders our desserts and places his hand over mine on the table. With his other, he pours me a glass of wine and accepts the whisky he’s offered. His thumb slowly rubs along the side of my wrist, tickling the tender skin there, and when I look up, his eyes are on mine.
“What?” I ask softly.
“How do you manage to look so beautiful when you’re barely wearing any makeup?”
“Your mind is blurred by all the models you’ve seen parading before you today.”
He leans into me and runs his nose up my cheek. “And every single time, I was wishing it were you.”
“I know where this is going.”
“You considered it before. Will you again?”
I pull back and suck my bottom lip into my mouth. I did. I would. I have. I can’t. Our dessert is placed between us with two forks, and Aaron nods his thanks.
I take my hand from his and grab a fork, stabbing it into the cake. This is too soon to have this conversation. It’s too soon to have any kind of conversation about anything past right now.
I forgive him, but I don’t know if I fully trust him. And this is the funny thing about trust. You can love and forgive, but you don’t necessarily trust. Broken hearts and promises can be fixed so easily because they break in a different way than trust. When trust is broken, it’s shattered into a thousand pieces. And sometimes, it’s never put back together the same way.
Aaron takes the fork from me, resting it in the bowl, and sighs. “Dayton.”
“We’re not having this conversation. Not here and not now. If I decide to leave Monique, we’ll discuss this.”
“It really doesn’t matter to me if you leave her or not. You’ll belong to me either way.”
I look into his eyes, forceful and determined. “Aaron, I’m not going to say this again. Working for you isn’t something I think I can comprehend. I don’t want to be the girl who got an ‘in’ because she’s f*cking the boss. If I ever decide I want to model, I’ll do it because it’s my decision, and I’ll carry the weight of it on my own shoulders. I won’t roll over and be signed by you just because I can be.”
“You want to prove yourself.” He brings the cake-laden fork to my mouth, and I open my mouth.
I nod and swallow the cake. “For me.”
“I understand that.” He takes a bite himself. “But for the record, Day, you’re not f*cking the boss. You’re in a serious relationship with him. There’s a very big difference, sweetheart.”
“The level of our relationship depends on your ability to prove yourself to me.” I swallow the bitterness of my own secret down, my whole body screaming at my hypocrisy. “There’s a long way to go, baby.”
He puts another forkful of cake in my mouth and follows it up by covering my lips with his. I pull back, swallow my mouthful, and tilt my face back for his kiss. His lips are sweet and woody at the same time, the chocolate fudge sauce mingling with the whisky in a strangely alluring and delicious mix.
“Can I show you something?”
“We’ve been here before.”
He smiles. The waiter appears and Aaron hands him his card without glancing at the bill. I choose not to look at the slip of paper on the table. I’d probably have a heart attack.
“Trust me,” he whispers, pulling me to standing and wrapping my cardigan around my shoulders.
“Honestly?” I look up at him. “That’s what I’m a little afraid of.”
His eyes flash with another indiscernible emotion. He swallows, taking his card from the waiter with a nod, and then he leads me outside. A sleek black car pulls up and Aaron opens the door, guiding me in.
“To Soho.” His words are short and sharp, and I can hear the underlying pain in them. My stomach twists.
How can I do this to him when I’m no better? F*ck. Guilt riddles my body, and this is by far the most f*cked-up situation I’ve been in for a long time.
I open my mouth but no words come out. Not even a squeak.
We travel in silence. The twenty-minute journey across London is coated in tension and regret and a tinge of heartbreak sneaking its way through.
What am I doing?
Aaron doesn’t look at me when the car stops and he helps me out. He links his fingers through mine and leads me through several streets. The heavy air is still hanging between us, but when we stop, his words slice through it.
“You want to prove yourself?”
I nod slightly, narrowing my eyes.
“Walk around that corner, look at the billboard, and tell me you don’t see a woman who has proven herself.”
“What?”
He motions to the corner. I look between him and the street uncertainly. People mill around us, completely unaware of the turmoil surrounding us and seeping in.
I swallow hard and take the few steps around the corner. We’re the first thing I see. My hand on his waist. His at my jaw. My head tilted back. My lips parted. His eyes boring into mine. The gorgeous Australian background.
Aaron rests his hands on my waist. “I see a woman who’s already proven herself. I see a woman so worried about what the rest of the world thinks that she’s afraid to take the step her heart really wants to. I see a woman held back by an irrational fear she doesn’t know she possesses. But most of all, I see a beautiful woman standing in front of and in the arms of the man who would burn bridges and build cities if that’s what it took to make her happy.”
I blink several times as the tears build in my eyes. Aaron spins me in his arms and cups my cheek with his palm, brushing his thumb across my temple.
“I own a multimillion-dollar company, Dayton, but I’m not rich. I could buy anything I wanted without blinking, without seeing the dent in any one of my bank accounts. I could buy another company if I wanted. Another car. Another plane. A whole estate of houses. I could buy an island if I truly desired, but I’m not rich. The one thing that would make me rich, I can’t buy. Unless I have your love, given freely and wholeheartedly, I’m just as poor as the man you see on the corner of the street. All I can do is buy the time to convince you that I’m worth it. That we’re worth it. I can use that time to make you believe in us. To trust in us.” He brings his forehead to mine. “And I truly won’t stop until you do. I won’t stop fighting until you’re standing in front of me and telling me you love me with everything you are and you give that to me.”
He takes my mouth in a raw and heartfelt kiss I feel right down to my toes. They curl in my shoes, and the tears sneak from my eyes and down my cheeks.
Aaron pulls back and wipes them from my face. “Every time I kiss you, I taste the rest of my life. I won’t stop fighting for you until you taste yours, too.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and bury my face into his chest. He envelopes me in his arms, holding me against him in a desperate way. He lets out a long, shuddery breath that snakes across my neck and leaves goose bumps in its wake.
I taste it, I want to say. I’ve tasted it since the moment he first kissed me. Every brush, every tease, every deep, probing kiss and sweep of his tongue through my mouth has been filled with the taste of forever. I feel it in his touch and see it in his eyes.
In the same way I wish he could tell me that he loves me, I wish I could tell him everything.