Prove Me Wrong (7 page)

Chapter
Seven
Clara
One Year Later

              “Okay, and remember, if anyone asks, you want to just say that we’re already in talks with Bergdorf,” Brenda said as she walked with me down to the lobby. “I’ll handle the rest.”

              “But that makes it sound like I’m already signing with them or something,” I protested, hitting the elevator button for the lobby floor.

              Brenda gave me a frustrated look as she adjusted her glasses. I grinned seeing it. She had become one of my closest friends in the last year and I enjoyed seeing her emotional passion for her job and for my work.

              “Well that’s
their
problem if they take it that way,” she said, rolling her eyes at me. “Plus, we
are
talking with them and I have a good feeling we’ll be getting an order from them soon. But Losel Goods has a far bigger reach and they can get us into department stores across the country. This is our
big
shot, C!”

              Brenda grasped my hands and squeezed. I squeezed back, feeling every ounce of her energy and adrenaline.

              The elevator dinged open at the lobby. The large marbled floor was bustling with activity. We walked to the front doors with our hands squeezed together.

              I looked at her, smoothing down my dusty pink skirt and white blouse. “Do I….” I started, before biting my lip. This was the first time I’d be meeting with huge buyers. Thank god I’d have someone experienced like Brenda on my side but it didn’t mean I wasn’t still nervous. “Do I look okay?”

              Brenda squeezed my hand, her blue eyes sparkling warmly at me. “You look amazing, C,” she said confidently. “You’re as gorgeous as your furniture and that is saying something!”

              I laughed, touched and encouraged. I gave her a little nod.

              She grinned.

              “Don’t worry, babe,” she said, winking at me. “We’re gonna knock ‘em dead!”

              And together, we walked out onto 57
th
Street.

***

              As we walked down the busy street, I thanked the stars above again for how lucky I was to have someone like Brenda Carlisle by my side.

              A year ago, I had been receiving some modest attention for my furniture pieces from some respectable buyers but no one huge. And no one was putting in any significant orders, just a few pieces here and there.

              Then out of the blue, I got a call from a secretary asking if a Brenda Carlisle could call me later that night from Carlisle & Ellis. I had never heard of the company but was told that Ms. Carlisle was extremely interested in discussing my furniture with me.

              I had agreed to the call.

              Hours later, I found myself laughing and joking with a woman I had never met as if we were old friends. Brenda founded and operated the small but respectable offices of Carlisle & Ellis, a company that essentially worked as agents for designer and crafters.

              Brenda had seen my work and had fallen in love with it. She wanted me to fly into New York as quickly as possible so I could discuss with her my options.

              “Which are limitless, let me tell you,” she had said enthusiastically on the phone. “Your work is just stunning. I can tell already we’re going to have to fight off the buyers that’ll be climbing the walls for your stuff!”

              Before I knew it, I was in a sleek and modern office in New York, signing on with Brenda to work as my agent. It was all a surreal rush. I never would’ve imagined such a boon to come out of nowhere.

              “How did you hear of my work?” I had asked after doing all the paperwork in her office.

              Brenda smiled and made a small gesture with her hands. “Oh I saw one of those catalogues you had made. Gorgeously shot, by the way,” she said.

              I furrowed my brows. I was pretty sure I remembered all the people I had sent those catalogues to. They had been expensive to print so I had only made a few dozen and had carefully selected the recipients. Carlisle & Ellis had not been one of them.

              But perhaps someone had passed a catalogue on. And in any case, I had no cause for complaint.

              I had researched Carlisle & Ellis’s roster. Though they had a small client list, they were quite successful. I knew I was in good hands.

              And all of this was a welcomed distraction from the embarrassment and heartache I had suffered at the hands of Jonah Lowell.

              Jonah hadn’t just walked into my life. He had walked into my town. We had been seen all over the place together. Everyone from the diner to the hardware store to my next door neighbor had seen us together, happy as a pair could be.

              Or so I had thought.

              Clearly, I had been the delusional one here. Jonah Lowell had only been in it for the amusement.

              So when he had disappeared with the intimidatingly beautiful Vanessa Winters, I had been left with a scattered mess of awkward questions and pitying looks.

              I hadn’t wanted to reveal Jonah’s true identity to them. If most people hadn’t recognized him for who he truly was, then why add more salt to my wound? I didn’t want to look more pathetic—the delusional small town girl who thought she could win the big bad city boy. God, that was so much worse. It wasn’t true of course. I hadn’t known who he really was. But once everyone found out about Jonah’s real name, that’s what everyone would think.

I had instead settled myself for telling everyone that Jonah and I had decided to amicably part ways.

              But there was no hiding the hurt in my face. Tears seemed to constantly be hanging on my lashes for weeks on end and I could see the looks of pity on people’s faces that said that nobody believed my story for a minute.

              The hardest part was to go back home. To my bed.

              I had not only opened my heart but my home to Jonah. And now every crevice of it was peppered with bitter memories of him. In the kitchen, I remembered cooking him breakfast and him thanking me by bending me over the kitchen counter, making me come so hard my cries echoed through the room.

              In the living room, I remembered all those cozy nights we had snuggled up on the couch, talking over the day’s events as we let our hands constantly roam over each other’s bodies, unable to sate our hunger for each other. I had loved feeling his hands run down my body, squeezing me gently against him.

              And then in my bedroom….

              It had been so hard to sleep in my bed again after he had left. It felt unusually large and so very cold. I was heartbroken and sad but also felt foolish and stupid to be mourning a man who clearly hadn’t cared for me at all.

              I knew I was wasting my tears on him and yet I couldn’t help but long to feel him hold me once more, to have his lips against mine, and to feel his rough stubble brush against my cheeks.

              So finding myself in New York with Brenda on my side, I felt totally ready to push my heartbreak behind me and revitalize my focus on my career.

              And in the following months, I had had the most successful year to date for my business. I was getting respectable stores in New York buying my pieces. Brenda eventually found me a small but well furnished apartment to sublease in the East Village because of how much time I now spent in the city.

              I was gaining a formidable reputation and I was thriving.

              But I was in New York. And New York was Jonah Lowell’s city.

              My heart had felt like someone had punched it when I had sat down at my first coffee shop in New York and had immediately seen a magazine with Jonah’s dark profile captured on the cover. The man was everywhere. He
was
New York.

              But I had put my coffee cup squarely over his face, covering it.

              Once in the city, I heard more about Jonah Lowell’s incredible history with women. Apparently he was not only a ruthless businessman but a ruthless playboy as well. There were multiple accounts of him dating several women at once, with none of them knowing about the other woman. And all of them had been high ranking models or celebrated actresses.

              But despite the humiliation this caused a lot of the women in the press, they were still fighting for Jonah’s attentions. They were hooked.

I could relate.

              He had absolutely no qualms about leaving one top Brazilian model for another. The list of women he had loved and left was probably as high as the Chrysler building.

              No wonder he had clearly forgotten about me without any problems. From the moment he had walked out of Mackleson’s, I had never heard from him again. No calls, no emails, no letters—if people even still wrote letters.

              And since he had forgotten about me, there was no reason why I shouldn’t do the same.

              I had thrown myself wholeheartedly into work and had seen the fruits of my labor pay off beautifully.

              Just as it was now, with me walking the few streets down to 63
rd
Street where the lovely Aarons Building stood. It was a beautiful glass and steel building that often held illustrious art exhibitions, international galas, and exclusive bruncheons for visiting dignitaries.

              Today though, it was holding a small cocktail gathering of new, up and coming designers and crafters who were quickly rising in popularity and interest for the bigger buyers.

              Losel Goods, one of the foremost luxury goods buyers in the country, would be present today. Every designer and crafter would die to have their pieces bought by them.

              And perhaps, today would be my chance.

              The top rated and raved designers and crafters would be at this event and I couldn’t believe I was included in the roster. Some of them came alone, dealing both as a designer and a businessperson. Others came with their representing agents or managers. That was me. I needed Brenda here with me. She gave me the confidence to believe I deserved this attention as much as the next man.

              Standing just outside the gleaming doors of the building, I took in a deep breath as cars and people rushed behind me. The city was a fast paced mistress and was very unforgiving to those who could not adapt.

              I looked down at my skirt, smoothing it down again. I had taken extra care to dress up for the event. Instead of my normal jeans and sweatshirt, I had tried to look like a successful furniture maker, whatever that looked like.

              I glanced over at Brenda who had a small smile curling up at the corner of her lips. She wasn’t so jaded in the business to be completely calm. She was still excited and thrilled to be representing new designers. But she couldn’t help but be a little amused at my nervousness. I could see that.

              She gave my hand a squeeze. I smiled.

              Tossing my hair back over my shoulders, I squared myself and we marched towards the building.

              Getting my pieces bought by Losel would mean absolute success. It would mean that I had made it.

              Every sacrifice, pain, and hardship would be completely paid off with interest.

             
You can do this, Daniels,
I told myself firmly.

              The doormen in formal tailored gray suits nodded at us as we approached. I could already hear the clinking of glasses and soft jazz music playing from inside.

              It was time to meet my future.

Chapter
Eight
Jonah

              I tried not to yawn as I took a sip of my whiskey. Was this my second glass? Or my third? I knew I shouldn’t be drinking so much so early in the day but when the day was this fucking monotonous, it was hard not to.

              I looked around the sleek floor, filled with people chatting and laughing and mingling. I watched the latest batch of prominent home goods designers mingling with their potential future buyers. Most of them were dressed in ridiculous high end fashion. I knew they were hoping to look like some kind of walking piece of art but they looked more like they had tumbled out of a dumpster, wearing whatever stuck.

              And a lot of them had developed that nasty habit of having a cocky attitude. Some of them had had their pieces written up in the New York Times or had been interviewed by Architectural Digest. Some of them had had celebrities buy their pieces. And some of them were just very self-aggrandizing. Either way, it meant a lot of them had insufferable attitudes.

              And unfortunately, being the only billionaire in the room meant a lot of those insufferable people were looking directly at me, eyeing for a way in. They all wanted to come speak to me but were all too nervous to do so.

              Looking over some of their faces, I could tell they were also confused why I was here as well.

              Normally, I didn’t come to such events. I had people who could come on my behalf.

              But DXC Global was getting ready to expand their fashion and home ware sectors and that started by buying some of the more profitable companies. We had recently acquired Losel Goods, one of the largest competitors in the market, but I wanted to pick up some smaller boutique companies and expand our luxury lines.

I wasn’t here to meet the designers; I was here to meet the buyers. I wanted to see them in action and to compare which companies seemed the most daring while still profitable. Who knew how to invest in creativity while still keeping investors in mind?

              This wasn’t too difficult to do. Most of the buyers were more than willing to be friendly with the President and CEO of DXC Global and owner of Losel Goods. Probably only a few had a vague idea why I was there and those people probably were quite happy. If DXC Global bought their company, it would only mean they would have greater resources and a larger opportunity to grow.

              I was in the middle of talking with three of the top buyers when I noticed something from the corner of my eye. A flutter of pink.              

              Taking a sip of my drink, I turned towards the flutter and nearly choked on my whiskey.              

              Clara.

              Fucking Christ. It was really her.

             
Clara.

              As if time had stopped, I stared at the one woman I had dreamed of every night for the last year stand only a few feet from me. Wearing a simple but well fitted outfit of a dusty pink skirt that hugged her curvy hips and a white blouse that made her skin look like ivory, she stood apart from all the more avant garde designers.

              A shorter, older woman stood next to her in a loose outfit of all black. She adjusted her glasses as she entered the room, clearly judging the level of buyers present.

              But it didn’t matter. My eyes were only focused on the one woman who made my skin tighten and my chest pound.

              Clara.

              She looked clean, simple, and smart.

              I swallowed tightly. But I already knew that, didn’t I? I knew just how purely sweet and smart that woman was, down to the marrow.

              I had spent the last year remembering and dissecting every aspect of Clara Daniels. I spent entire nights recreating her in my mind.

              Looking at her now, she seemed some how fuller and more real than ever. My entire body tightened just looking at her.

              Her golden honey hair fell loosely down her back in soft waves. I remembered exactly how light and soft her hair had felt against my chest. Her skin caught the dull gleam of the afternoon light and I remembered just how smooth her arms had felt under my hands.

              I couldn’t take my eyes away from her full, pink lips and I remembered just how sweet they had tasted against my own. And those hazel eyes, large and luminous….I remembered how they had looked at me like I was a man worth more than my money or my whoring. They had looked at me like they could see a man who had a heart worth loving.

              And I had relished those looks even though I knew they weren’t true. They had been based on a false premise.

              She didn’t know the real Jonah Lowell. Had she known the truth….Well, I thought with a grimace, she
did
know the truth. Now. She knew what I was capable of. I had an unnatural knack of leaving a trail of broken hearts as wide as the Mississippi and normally, I had the remorse of a serial killer.

              But not with her. Not with Clara.

              I had missed that fucking woman every day for the past year even though I knew deep down that I had done the right thing, the decent thing. It was too much to hold that woman’s fragile and deserving heart in my two dirty hands. I would ruin her. I would break her.

              It was better she never saw me again.

              I snorted softly to myself. Who was I fooling?

              Sure, I had
thought
that but had I
acted
like that? Immediately upon returning to New York, I had sought out every major furniture buyer, sending them the photos I had of Clara’s pieces.

              It was true that talent like Clara’s deserved to be recognized but really, I worked hard for her furniture because I wanted to maintain any connection I had with her for as long as possible. Discussing and dealing with her business made me feel as if I was somehow still with her.

              But after a few weeks, I realized that without at least some measure of a reputation, she would get nowhere fast. She needed to prove herself in a place bigger than Irvington, Vermont. She needed to show people that she had what it took to distinguish herself amongst the best of the best and remain at the top.

              So I had managed to send out a copy of Clara’s catalogue to a design agency that I knew would take care of her best. It was a little difficult to keep tabs on the proceedings since I had chosen to do everything anonymously. I had a strong feeling Clara wouldn’t appreciate any gestures from the likes of me.

              I hadn’t heard if Clara had accepted Carlisle & Ellis’s offer of representation or if she was even working in New York at all. But now, seeing her here at such an exclusive event with the older, clearly more knowledgeable woman, I knew she had to have accepted Brenda’s offer. And that woman with the glasses had to be Brenda Carlisle, herself.

              I grinned to myself. Clearly, Clara was kicking ass.

              A few buyers politely introduced themselves to Clara and Brenda but as soon as they recognized who Clara was, they quickly began flocking. The girl clearly had fans. And ardent ones too.

              I watched as Brenda fended them off expertly, making sure that the most exclusive buyers got to talk to Clara first.

              I saw the other designers pout and glare as the attention was pulled away from them.

              But it was no competition. Clara was incredibly gifted and talented. But not only that, she had an air of guileless goodness in her that made her easy to talk to.

              That is, if they could get behind the stalwart defense of Brenda, I thought with a grin.

              I watched as Clara smiled at one of the buyers. I could tell from the way she tucked her hair behind her ear that she was a little nervous.

             
You need to stay away, Lowell,
I reminded myself.
Be a decent man for once in your life. Stay
away.

              But I found myself already moving towards her.

              Surrounded by a small group of admirers, she couldn’t see me approaching from the side. With each step, I took in her appearance, memorizing each curve, each line.

              I knew I had no right to talk to her again, no right to even look at her. I had fucked things up so royally between us there was no way to fix that again.

              And yet, heaven and hell would have to crumble before me to stop me from walking towards Clara Daniels. She had me like a moth to a flame and I was ready to burn.

              As I neared, I could hear her soft laugh. It ran a bolt of electricity straight down my spine. Fuck, I had ached for her. The only woman who had looked at me with clear eyes. Not as the billionaire playboy, not as the unwanted stepson, not as the broken fucker who couldn’t recognize love if it bit him in the ass.

              She had been the only one to see me as Jonah.

              And god, I had fucking missed her.

              “Miss Daniels, I’m a huge fan,” I said smoothly, standing off to her right, sidestepping Brenda’s watchful guard of her client.

              I saw Clara’s shoulders freeze at my voice. Had she been able to recognize me? Slowly she turned around and I saw that her beautiful face was frozen in an expression of someone who was about to meet the devil.

             
Well,
I thought dryly,
she’s not too far off.