My One-Night Heir, page 15
‘I’ll take the dress,’ I say to the assistant with a smile. My budget won’t stretch to the shoes.
‘Let me get the sandals,’ Simone says.
I hesitate. Accepting gifts requires grace and I know from Dain that I’m not so great at that.
Simone nods. ‘You’ll almost be tall enough to look Dain right in the eyes.’
He’s the reason she wants to help me. She’s genuine and she cares for Dain and suddenly I don’t have the heart to deny her.
‘Thank you,’ I mutter awkwardly, fighting my instinctive reaction to reject her offer. ‘That’s very kind.’
‘I’m glad you’re here, Talia,’ she says as we drive back to Dain’s house. ‘It’s a good thing.’
I leave her downstairs and hurry up to the nursery to feed Lukas. Then I shower and prepare.
Dain walks into my room just as I’m fastening the straps on the silver sandals. I straighten and try not to fidget in front of him as he looks me up and down.
‘Will I do?’ I can’t help seeking his approval. ‘Simone gifted me the shoes.’
‘And you let her?’ His eyebrows lift. ‘Progress.’
He looks stunning in that perfectly tailored black suit. I’m desperate for the reassurance of his touch but he remains eight feet away.
‘We’d better get going,’ he mutters.
We don’t take the little sports car he drove this morning. This time we’re in a luxury sedan and there’s a chauffeur to drive us.
In the back seat I can’t help stealing glances at Dain. It’s like the night at the gondola—he’s simply breathtaking in formal attire.
He catches my eye and his own gaze ignites. He half groans, half growls. ‘Come here.’
Yes.
I press against the restraint of my seat belt and kiss him desperately.
‘I don’t want to ruin your hair—’
I don’t care and he runs his hands through it anyway. There’s such urgency in my need for him. I’ll never get enough. I realise this now.
‘Talia?’
I just kiss him. I just want to be close to him and pretend this perfection is real. Right now it is real.
He kisses me back but he’s gentle and tender and I want to provoke him to more because for me this need is unbearable.
‘Talia.’ He breathes hard.
His soft words ignite me.
We’re so close. I don’t care that there’s a driver. I don’t care that people can see into the car. I just want him. I need him.
But he grabs my wrists and pulls away. ‘We have to stop.’ He looks at me ruefully. ‘Or I could send a message saying we’ve both got food poisoning and turn the car round right now...’
I laugh, but honestly I’d love him to do just that. I don’t want to face anyone else today. My wariness rises. Insecurity completely has its claws in me. I want us to stay in our own world. Alone and intense. Because while I can put on an almost-designer dress and fancy shoes, they’re only wrappings. I know I really belong on the service side of the coffee machine, not centre stage in the society he’s the star of.
I struggle to catch my breath and stare out of the window as I try. The setting sun glints against the glass-fronted high-rises of the city. I’ve never left New Zealand before. I had no idea Brisbane is such a big city. But I can’t wholly appreciate its beauty. I’m suddenly scared. And for the first time since arriving in Brisbane, I’m cold.
The pre-theatre party is at a champagne and oyster bar. The gilt-tipped forest-green ropes discreetly inform the public that entrance to the venue is reserved for invited guests only, but there are other bars either side and they’re full and noisy. The customers ensconced in them stare as the car pulls up right in front.
Dain exits first and slides his hand into mine once I’ve got out of the car. The contact strengthens me, stirs me, my pulse regulates to match his—albeit a touch faster than normal for us both. He pulls me closer against his side.
‘Is it true you’re a father, Dain?’ someone calls.
Startled, I glance up. I spot a camera. Then another. Someone else calls his name. I look, but I’m aware Dain doesn’t. He knows not to.
I’m shocked. I realise how galling this must be for him—he’s so intensely private but his secret—Lukas—is known. And he’s being forced to be seen with me. To present me in public. My pulse skitters but he keeps us both moving until we’re inside. I desperately try to slow my breathing but it’s impossible because there are people...so many beautiful people.
I blink. Swallow. Straighten.
The bar is sophisticated. Its decor features that luxurious green with discreet gold trim in sumptuous curves and heavy marble countertops. A gleaming display showcases some of the oyster, lobster and caviar they serve. Bottles of champagne line the back wall. There’s ice everywhere—the diamond kind as well as frozen water providing a bed for the ocean’s delicacies. I freeze on the inside. I thought I was used to billionaire bashes from my time waitressing at exclusive Queenstown venues but this is next level. While it’s intimate, there’s a raft of people present, each one obviously very important, very sophisticated. They’re the sleek elite. But they all revere Dain. They watch him, listen close, their bodies angle towards him—seeking his attention. I see it and understand it. Mine does the same.
And he’s just swept in—effortlessly stalking past the press, effortlessly commanding the entire place.
We’re offered champagne in fine crystal flutes. Dain introduces me but their names and faces are a blur in less than a second. Some are politicians. Some are society mavens. Some are models—at least they look it.
The noise of chatter renders words inaudible as I surreptitiously try to take it all in and note how they’re all staring not so surreptitiously at me. I feel like a lamb who’s been led into a wolves’ den. But that’s wrong, right? I’m just overwhelmed. Surely these people are nice and I’m being silly.
He doesn’t relinquish my hand and, full disclosure, I can’t help clinging onto him. But I don’t want to rely on Dain for my confidence. Surely I can handle this myself.
Only I’m in awe of everyone’s elegance. They’re exquisitely vivacious, effervescent yet refined. They glitter gracefully and it comes so naturally to them. My stomach sinks. Dain’s privileged and powerful and he should have a partner who doesn’t only hold her own but is an asset to him. I’ve an awful feeling I’m a liability. Any of the stunning women here would be a better partner for him than me. They’re all used to this scene and they don’t just handle it, they shine.
I’m suddenly grateful there’s a time limit because of the play. Dain introduces me to the director of the theatre and the head of fundraising and I really try to make their names stick in my mind. Mischa and Chloe. They ooze glamorous, effortless chic. We converse about nothing very much as perfectly attired waiters offer specially curated pairings of oysters and champagne. The shellfish have been prepared in several ways. The vibe screams understated, indulgent luxury but these people don’t even blink. They’re not just used to such rare and expensive nibbles, they’re connoisseurs of them.
After a while Dain gets collared by a man wanting a quick quiet word. From dinner with his parents, I know what that means. The guy wants money. Dain glances at me apologetically but I send him a smile of reassurance. I can do this. I don’t need him. I only have to listen and smile, right?
I talk more to Mischa and Chloe, but Chloe’s gaze follows Dain. My spine prickles and I can’t help looking her over. Her dress is beautifully fitted and clearly couture, her hair and make-up sublime, she’s wearing a stunning emerald pendant and her hands are beautifully manicured. My nails are neat but only because they’re seen in my videos. Hers are stunning. All of her is stunning. She catches me staring.
‘Have you been to Dain’s island?’ she asks with a smile that makes me shiver a little.
‘Um...no. Not yet.’
What island? I didn’t even know there was an island.
‘It’s amazing.’ She nods as if she’s doing me a favour in telling me this. ‘You’re going to love it. Dain’s done such a wonderful job rebuilding the house there.’
And she knows because she’s been to stay? That’s...great, and all of a sudden I’m reminded of the water-skiing day. I’m the charity case again—the one who doesn’t really fit in.
‘You must get him to take you,’ she adds. ‘I prefer the helicopter to the jet. It’s faster.’
There’s a helicopter as well? I don’t ask. I just feel ignorant and increasingly out of place.
Our passion in the car on the way here was an ephemeral, false assurance. I shouldn’t care what any of these people think about me. Talia of a year ago wouldn’t have. But now I feel so very vulnerable. He’s more powerful than I imagined and I don’t think I can step up to this public plate and stand beside him.
‘It’s best when Dain is piloting.’ Chloe looks at me with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. ‘Did he fly you here from New Zealand?’
I know I’m not handling this well, but I’ve been around people like Chloe before. I smile and swipe out with my claws, just a little. ‘We were busy in the cabin.’
Her eyebrows lift ever so slightly. ‘With a crying baby?’
‘Actually, Lukas slept for the whole flight.’
‘I bet he’s very advanced for his age,’ Mischa says with a genuine smile.
‘Yes,’ Chloe agrees with venomous enthusiasm. ‘After all, his mother is very clever.’
She takes another sip of champagne. Inhibitions are down and tongues are looser than they were when we first arrived and even the best manners in the world can be lost.
‘You make coffee, is that right?’ Chloe asks.
I try to tell myself the snobbish tinge I think I hear is probably only in my head but her gaze on me is icier than that bed for the oysters on the bar and now the thoughts in my head are even more anxious and insecure. ‘Yes, how did you hear about that?’
‘Dain’s father said you’re a waitress and wannabe influencer. You do make little videos, don’t you?’
So Chloe knows Dain’s father and he’s disparaged me. I feel for Dain. He had to live through his parents’ divorce, he doesn’t need his own private life being dissected in public like this. Not by a parent. And I’m not going to make it worse.
‘Yes.’ I lift my chin and smile directly at her. ‘I make ASMR videos of latte art. Some people find them soothing.’
‘It’s a fad.’ Chloe shrugs. ‘You’ll have to pivot if you want to grow your numbers.’
I nod peaceably enough but inside my pulse is skittering out of control. Chloe’s right. She’s also ruthless. Most of the people here are, I realise. This is a world so far from mine. It’s his—hell, he’s the king of it. I’m a waitress. I can make a good coffee. But who am I to hold my own with people who literally run the world? Who are beautiful and accomplished and confident? Short answer is I can’t.
But I’m stuck here. I can never run away. The permanent home I long craved for is actually a prison—a gilded cage in which I don’t belong and where I’m not really wanted. Yes, we have chemistry but, no, that’s not for ever. I’m here only because of Lukas.
Two more people join us. I can’t remember either of their names. I’m a good server—I can remember the dinner orders for parties of ten or more—but there are more than eighty people in this bar and I’m off balance. I’m worried about Dain. He’s actually very private. He’s worked hard to pull his company back from the brink and overcome the destruction from his parents’ interference. Being the source of gossip now must be appalling for him but he’s putting on a brave front. Yet he can’t control their judgement of me. The undercurrent of bitchiness cements my understanding of just how out of place I really am.
I do not belong here.
My attempt to eat the freshly shucked au naturel oyster from its shell is awkward. They do it in unison, like a graceful ballet.
‘Aphrodisiacs, I’m sure you’re aware,’ Chloe says, her gaze sliding to Dain again.
‘I haven’t been to one of these events in ages,’ the new guy says.
‘Dain’s been too busy to host. Now we know why.’ The woman raises her glass to me. ‘Off the market at last.’
‘Well.’ Chloe gasps sharply. ‘He’s not put a ring on it yet.’
The entire group stares at my unadorned fingers. My not-good-enough manicure. I’m filled with shame. My self-control drowns in it and in a flash of anger I retaliate against the rudeness. ‘Then I guess there’s still time for one of you to make your move.’
Normally I can maintain a cool facade in front of the most demanding, rude customers but I can’t keep my cool now. This is worse than when Dain and I deliberately misled Ava. Because I’m crushed. The life we’re presenting is everything I want. But it’s a front and never going to be real. I’m not right for it. I don’t fit. I never will. I’m not good enough for him. At the worst possible time, in front of all these avidly curious people, I realise I do want that ring. I want it all with him because I’m in love with him. And while Dain has been doing everything he can to make this work, what I truly desire is the one thing he’ll never give—his heart. That’s not in play. And I’ll never be enough for him to want to push past the hurt of his parents’ break-up.
I’m devastated. I want to run. Right now. Just as my mother would. But I can’t. I’m cornered like a stray animal who’s wandered into that wolves’ den and I lash out.
‘Truly.’ I shrug as if I don’t give a damn. ‘Go ahead. I’m the mother of Dain’s firstborn. That’s all.’
Even as I say it I know it’s wrong. I bite my lip—offence is the best defence and I’ve struck out when I shouldn’t have. I have to stop myself from making this worse. For Dain. For Lukas. It takes everything to pull it back together. But I’m jealous and hurt and hopeless and I just want to hide. I force a smile as if it were a joke, but they don’t smile back.
I turn, leaving them with their mouths still ajar.
I’m burning with regret, embarrassment, shame.
I need a coffee. I’m never going to get through the next ten minutes, let alone through the performance of an entire play.
I don’t see an espresso machine at the bar and I slide through the crowd, ducking my head to find the staff door. I know my way through a kitchen and find the back exit in moments, paying zero attention to the surprise on the kitchen hand’s face. The back alley isn’t some dank place where rubbish bins are kept, it’s festooned with fairy lights and populated with an assortment of eateries. I walk into the first one that has a coffee machine visible through the glass.
I haven’t had a real coffee in so long that the hit is instant—warmth, energy, clarity. I know those people’s opinions of me shouldn’t matter but I care about the impact on Dain. And his opinion is vitally important to me. Yep, it’s true. I really am in love with him.
My head pounds, blinding me as what’s been brewing over the last few days crystallises. It hurts. Unbearably. I’m literally losing vision in one eye. But at the same time I really see. I really understand.
And I die inside. I never should have said that to Chloe. Certainly not in front of all those people. I couldn’t last an hour before letting him down. I was overly defensive and uncontrolled. I don’t have their education. I’m not engaging enough to fit. I’ve just made myself a laughing stock. And Dain.
He’ll be annoyed, maybe even angry. But maybe that’s good. Because I’m never going to be what he really needs.
I suddenly know what I need to do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Dain
THE EVENING IS going better than I expected. In fact, I’m almost enjoying myself. I suspected Talia was insecure about coming. She wanted to look good—as if she ever doesn’t. I was going to give her the diamond necklace I bought earlier in the week on a whim I can’t explain, but when I saw her in that black gown I abandoned the plan. She needed not a thing more. Besides, I knew she’d baulk at accepting it and that she’d let Simone get her shoes is progress enough for now. She straightened up and I could only stare, my mouth gummed. I thought I could stay in control but then in the car she looked at me with that desperate desire in her eyes and I lost my head.
At first in the bar she clung to my hand as if we were facing a life-threatening situation but it soon became evident she didn’t need me. I don’t want her feeling as though I’m supervising her every second as if I don’t trust her. I want her to be comfortable, to have fun and actually enjoy a party for once—not have to carry platter after platter of canapés. So I talked to that soap actor wanting investment advice for a while, only to then be immediately bailed up by a political candidate who leads me somewhere slightly more private. He drones on for way longer than I like. I’ve only just shaken him off when Simone hurries over.
‘Where’ve you been?’ she whispers.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Why aren’t you glued to her side?’ she hisses. ‘People are talking and you left her alone to...’
‘To what?’ I stiffen. ‘Talia’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself.’
‘Quite,’ Simone snaps. ‘A little too capable.’
I frown because that makes no sense. ‘What’s happened?’
‘She basically told Chloe that there’s nothing between you.’ Simone watches me closely. ‘That you’re still on the market.’
I blink. ‘She talked about us?’
I’ve said ‘us’, which immediately feels dangerous. But then I’m taken aback that Talia’s publicly denied that there’s an ‘us’. I shut down the outraged feeling that immediately rises. Now isn’t the time to feel anything. My teen years of suppressing emotion in public come in handy now.
