Next to You (19 page)

P
hotographers were loitering
in the lobby of the office building when Phlox arrived back at the office later that afternoon. It had been tempting to stay in Connecticut and wallow, but there was too much to be done in New York. No time for wallowing today.

“Ms. Miller! How did you meet Jared Connor? No one has seen the guy in years.”

Phlox smiled into the bright white of the flash. “He wasn’t that hard to find, actually. Maybe people haven’t been looking hard enough.”

Another camera appeared before her face. “Is it true he was working as your caretaker?”

“He was doing some consulting work at my house, yes. He was quite good at it.”

Up ahead, Zee was holding the elevator but Phlox was strangely in no hurry. She had always hated dealing with the press before. Zee was much better at it. But she didn’t mind today, for some reason.

“Ms. Miller! You’ve been out of the public eye for awhile too.”

“And your question is?” She smiled at the guy’s dumbfounded expression, then took pity on him. “Yes, I underwent many rounds of surgery after my accident.”

As soon as she stepped onto the elevator, Zee released the door and they were alone.

“Thank god for media training,” Phlox said.

Zee gave her a curious look. “You were holding your own out there. You used to hate that before.”

Phlox shrugged as the floors zipped by. “I’m suffering from emotional whiplash. I’m not myself.”

“Uh oh. How did things go with him?”

“Okay last night. Lousy this morning. He’s very upset that our relationship—if you can call it that—got out. He’s not answering my texts today.”

“Why would he be upset?”

The elevator stopped at their floor.

“He thinks his appearance will harm the company.”

Zee scrunched up her face “That’s probably the least of our worries at the moment. Honestly, I’m more pissed that they’re calling me Zelda in the press.”

“Sorry about that. I’ll make it up to you.”

Cherise rushed them the instant they stepped off the elevator, waving a sheet of paper filled with names and phone numbers. She thrust it at Phlox. “The phone is ringing off the hook with reporters. And
Vanity Fair
wants you tomorrow for a special web-only interview.”

“Photo shoot too?” Phlox’s eyes widened.

“Yup.”

“You don’t have to do it,” Zee said gently as they walked down the hall toward their adjacent offices. She turned back to Cherise. “Will they take me instead?”

Cherise shook her head with a grimace. “Sorry.”

“It’s media coverage that’s not about the A2Z Cream,” Phlox pointed out as she opened the door to her office. The late afternoon sun was bright and hot through the windows.

“True. Everyone loves a plastic surgery story. It’ll get ugly online, though. All the trolls will be out.”

“If it draws attention away from the product, I’ll take one for the team.”

Zee was right, of course. Say the words “plastic” and “surgery” and the internet erupted into a feeding frenzy. Was she going to get added to the “best celebrity plastic surgery” list or the ones for “botched celebrity faces?”

“It’s not like I had a choice about having plastic surgery.” Phlox dropped her purse onto the floor behind her desk and let her body sink into her big leather executive chair. “I can talk about the new burn care line. I can spin the Jared thing, saying he’s just a new investor. No one has any pictures of us on a date. We went to a matinee showing of a movie one afternoon in Connecticut, went hot tub shopping, and had pizza at a dive pizza joint. That’s it for public appearances together.”

“So are we taking the money?” Zee sat on the edge of her desk. “Rye thinks we should but he doesn’t want to get in between you and Jared.”

“We might as well. He only wants one percent of the company in exchange. We could use the money to fund the burn care launch.”

“We could. Might give you an excuse to see him occasionally, too.”

Phlox shrugged “I’m guessing his brother manages the Maria Group. When I was at his house, he said he was a financial manager. But if Jared wants to invest in the company, I’m not letting him do it in secret.” She smiled, then picked up the phone to call Jess. “We’re going to paper the planet with press releases and I’m going to tell everyone who will listen, starting with
Vanity Fair
tomorrow.”

P
hlox wore
a sleek pencil skirt the color of bittersweet chocolate and her all-time favorite article of clothing, the vintage Dior New Look jacket she had purchased the day after her bank balance topped one million. The jacket was a lovely rich shade of caramel, fitted and nipped in at the waist. To be honest, it fit her much better now that her boobs were smaller. A sparkling diamond pendant lay against her sternum. She had pulled her hair back into a neat ballet bun.

“Oh chic!” the photographer, a tiny man with an Italian accent, cried out when he saw her. He immediately began fussing with the jacket and tugging at her skirt.

Colin, the writer, was there as well, continuing the interview they’d begun over breakfast that morning.

“Your smile is the same,” Colin said as the photographer’s camera clicked around her, taking shot after shot. She’d met Colin at a party two years earlier but when she walked into the restaurant that morning for their interview, he hadn’t recognized her. He had apologized profusely then, but was obviously still feeling bad about it.

“Hmm?” Phlox was concentrating on maintaining a human expression on her face and worrying whether the makeup covering her facial scars was holding up under the hot lights.

“Your smile is the same as I remember it. People are saying it’s odd that you and Jared Connor both stepped back into the public eye at the same time.”

“Total coincidence, that.” The photographer was pulling a few strands of hair free from her bun and arranging them artfully around her face. “I wasn’t hiding though. Just recovering.”

“But Jared Conner, he’s been hiding.”

“Yes. Because of his father, more so than his face. He doesn’t want his—” she caught herself just in time. She couldn’t mention Emma and Aidan. “He just got tired of everything he did being connected to his father.”

An unexpected flash from the camera momentarily blinded Phlox and she scrunched her eyes shut.

“You’re the girlfriend of the billionaire recluse?” the photographer asked. He stopped to inspect Phlox’s face. “I thought you had … too.”

She held her breath while he rubbed at the makeup along the edge of her face, turning her toward the light so he could see better.

“Can we take some shots without the makeup?” he asked.

Colin looked at her with worried eyes. “If you do, my editor will use them,” he warned.

Phlox thought about it. Why not? Why not open this Pandora’s box? Let all the ugliness out but also—the last thing to escape the mythical Pandora’s box—the spirit of hope. People were saying she was unrecognizable now. That was a fair statement. Someone was bound to point out—if it didn’t end up being Colin himself—that the old Phlox Miller would never have been photographed for
Vanity Fair
. Not as an editorial spread. She hadn’t been the best advertisement for a cosmetics company before, and no magic mascara or secret serum could have changed that. But a horrible accident borne of her own hubris and stupidity had.

That’s what made her uncomfortable with her new face. Not that people treated her differently, treated her in a manner they never would have before. But that the price she had paid for her new beauty was so high. If she could go back in time a year, to that afternoon in Connecticut, she would shout at her old self not to fuck around with formulas outside the safety of a lab. She would grab herself by the shoulders and drag that idiot woman away from the range. She would prevent a long year’s worth of surgeries … a long year’s worth of pain.

Because it hadn’t been worth it. All that pain for what? To fall in love with a man who refused to be seen in public with her anyway?

Of course, if it weren’t for the accident, she never would have hired a caretaker. Never would have met Jared. Her stubborn, sexy, tender, infuriating caretaker. Lover. Investor. How had he become so many things to her in such a short period of time?

The photographer was looking at her, his expression a mask of worry that he had gone too far.

“Let’s do it,” she said to him and left for the ladies room to wash off all the makeup she had painstakingly applied that morning.

Colin and the photographer were talking when she returned, but they fell silent as they took in the white arc of skin, like a scythe, that adorned her face now.

“Ready?” she said.

While the photographer buzzed around her like a bee, she had another idea. If she was going to do this—to expose her scars this publicly—she might as well push it all the way. Fixing her face had left her with scars elsewhere on her body. The new pretty face had not come without trade-offs.

When the photographer finished taking shots of her face, Phlox unbuttoned her jacket. She had on nothing but her bra beneath. She slid her arms out of the jacket and handed it to the photographer to hold. She unclasped her bra and handed that to a wide-eyed Colin. Then she put the jacket back on, leaving it unbuttoned.

The photographer’s eyes raked over his model, finally settling on the map of scars on her stomach. His eyes lit up as he realized what Phlox was offering, what she was asking.

“Yes,” he said, lifting his camera again. Immediately, he lowered it. “The hair.” He gestured at his own head with its rapidly receding hairline. “The hair should be down, I think.”

He glanced at Colin for confirmation. Colin merely shrugged, holding the bra like it were a live snake.

“Sexier, you know?” the photographer added. He squinted his eyes at her, considering. “What do you have on under the skirt?”

Phlox’s heart skipped a beat at the question. She hadn’t envisioned going quite that far. But the visual popped up in her head. Why not? She unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it.

Colin’s eyes were bugging out of his head and he shifted uncomfortably on the chair. She bet he wouldn’t forget what she looked like after this.

“Bellissima,” the photographer said. “Perfect.”

Zee is going to die when she sees this.

The photographer began clicking away and Phlox allowed herself to be immortalized wearing nothing but thigh high stockings, tiny lace panties, stiletto heels and a vintage Dior New Look jacket. And a map of scars.

“
O
ut with it
,” Phlox said to Cherise.

It was two days after the
Vanity Fair
shoot and Phlox had dragged Cherise out for a lunch hour of gown shopping for Ginger Moon’s movie premiere. Actually, it was Cherise who had dragged Phlox out, on Zee’s insistence.

“I want her in something amazing. No black, navy or grey. Something that will make everyone look at her and not me, for a change.” Those had been Zee’s instructions and, damn it, Cherise was way too good at following instructions.

Phlox was standing in her underwear in the dressing room of a boutique on Elizabeth Street as Cherise returned another rejected gown to its hanger. Phlox dropped the next contender down over her shoulders and turned so Cherise could zip her up. Her devoted assistant had been uncharacteristically quiet in the cab ride over. Something was up.

“I’m giving you a raise with your performance review next month anyway,” she said, petulance at being out of the loop on something coloring her voice.

“It’s not that,” Cherise replied, smoothing and adjusting the gown. “What do you think?”

“God, it’s red.”

“Zee said no black or navy.”

“I look good in black and navy.”

“You look good in red, too. Old time movie glamour-y. Is that a word?”

“I don’t think so. You didn’t answer my question. Did I look fat in that other dress?” Maybe it was time to end the cake and pie diet, enjoyable though it was.

Cherise snorted into her hand, then fell serious. “Mr. Connor resigned his position this morning. As caretaker,” she said quietly.

“Oh.”

“Do you want me to look for a replacement?”

Phlox thought for a minute, turning so Cherise could unzip the alarmingly red dress. “No. Let’s just hire someone to mow the lawn and keep the garden in decent shape. It’ll give me more incentive to go up there and take care of it myself.”

Phlox shed the red dress, then pulled another dress from the rack Cherise had filled. It was a Badgley Mischka gown, a long wash of deep fuchsia silk and sequins that shimmered in the dressing room light. She dropped it on over her head and Cherise zipped up the back.

She turned this way and that, inspecting herself from every angle in the mirror. The halter neckline left her shoulders bare front and back, which exposed the scars there but that seemed pointless to worry about at this point. The deep pink fabric skimmed her waist and hips, then fell to a puddle of silk at her feet.

“Looks good on you, Phlox. With a little highlighter on your shoulders?”

Phlox pulled up the hem to look at her bare feet. “Silver heels, do you think?”

“And your chandelier earrings.”

Phlox sighed. “Okay. We have a winner. Can you leave it in my office? I’m going to walk to the
People
interview. I need to gather my thoughts before I get there.”

O
utside
, it was hot and muggy. Airless. A typical July day in New York, in other words. This was why she had bought the country house in Connecticut. The house that was now caretaker-less. She hadn’t seen that coming, his resignation. Without even calling her. Well, why would he? It’s not like Phlox had hired him in the first place.

It’s not like we were lovers or anything, you know?

The thought that she might never see him again, now that he wouldn’t be at her house, took her breath away like she'd been punched hard in the stomach.

Tears stung her eyes and she swallowed hard to regain her composure. She couldn’t show up at an interview bawling her eyes out, even if it was getting harder and harder to sit there and answer questions about Jared. She hadn’t heard a peep from him since he left her house. Not even a call acknowledging that Phlox Beauty had accepted his investment. Jake had provided Jess with a statement for the press release. It was as Phlox had guessed—Jake managed Jared’s money, the Maria Group and the Connor Foundation.

How many times had she pulled out her phone and stared at his number? Too many to count by now. Her fingers itched to call, but she stopped herself every time. She had left enough messages and texts. If he wanted to speak to her, he would have responded by now.

Maybe it was for the best. She should move on. He was the fling she’d expected him to be at the beginning. No one expects fucking the pool boy to turn into a long-term relationship. David was still in touch, leaving voice mails and e-mails about how nice she looked in this photo or that, even offering congratulations on Jared’s investment. “The Maria Group hasn’t made many investments in recent years. That’s a real coup, aside from getting the guy out of hiding.” That had been big of David. David wasn’t a bad guy. There just wasn’t much chemistry between him and Phlox. But maybe there could be ... if she gave it time.

Her phone rang just as she reached her destination. She ducked into a corner of the lobby to answer. It was Mina Connor returning her call. Phlox had left her a message earlier in the week about the new marketing director position for the burn care line.

“Phlox! I would love to work with you.” Mina’s voice was excited and genuine. “When can I come down to talk to you about it?”

“I’ll come up to Boston. Is Friday good?”

“Friday is fine. He won’t be here,” Mina added.

“I wasn’t expecting him to be.”
No, but you were hoping.
“Since you’ll be working from home, I don’t want to drag you all the way down to New York.”
Isn’t there any way you can have him there?

“I’m sorry about Jared, Phlox.”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say it wasn’t your fault.”

Mina laughed lightly on the other end. “Suppose not. But I really thought you were the one. Hell, I still think you’re the one. He’s just too boneheaded to admit it. The kids have been giving him a really hard time over it. Especially Aidan. He calls you Princess Phlox.”

Phlox forced herself to laugh along. “Aidan’s got a way with the women already. Obviously, he doesn’t take after his uncle.”

“The thing you have to understand about Jared and Jake is that they don’t expect people to love them. Jake, fortunately, doesn’t have the out that Jared believes his face gives him so I was able to wear him down. It took a good while though,” Mina said. “Jared, on the other hand, is used to just buying whatever he wants—companionship when he wants it, privacy when he doesn’t. Expensive toys to distract himself from being lonely.”

“I don’t care about his money. I loved him before I knew he even had any.”

“And I’m sure that has him in a bit of a quandary. He can’t fix this situation by throwing money at it.”

“Well, tell him I said ‘hello’ the next time you see him.”

Phlox watched as people streamed in and out of the building lobby. Everywhere she went these days, she kept her eyes peeled for a glimpse of those familiar broad shoulders, that messy blonde hair, the scarred face that made her heart skip a beat just thinking about it. He had admitted to being in the city before, watching her. She hoped he was watching her now.