“Thank you, Mrs. Beauregard,” Desmond mumbled, then had to clear his throat and repeat, “Thank you,” when the crowd settled back into their seats. He swallowed hard, swept the entire room with a look, then spotted Javier standing off to the side. The look of apology in his eyes as they met Javier’s was torture. “Thank you to the Peabody Honors for bestowing me with this prestigious award.”
Silence fell as Desmond’s gaze swept around the room again. It was painful to watch. The conflict and torture were all there, blatant in the flush that painted Desmond’s cheeks and the fear in his eyes. Javier could hardly stand to watch, feeling like things were about to fall apart at any second.
Finally, Desmond cleared his throat. “I….” He glanced down, looking at the small stand the gleaming, golden award had been placed on. “I….” He looked up, turning his head slightly and staring straight at Javier.
The silence was sharp and brittle. Javier did everything he could to send his love across the tense space to Desmond, but it didn’t seem to do any good.
“Integrity is the foundation of business,” Desmond said at last, dragging his eyes away from Javier and speaking to the room in general. “We deal in people’s hopes and dreams on a daily basis. The companies and accounts we work with are not just numbers in a ledger, they’re real people with hopes for the future and ambition to create something bigger and better than themselves, something that will help others.”
His gaze snapped back to Javier, and Javier knew he was speaking directly to him.
“All the money in the world doesn’t matter if we have to sell our souls or break the rules to obtain it,” he went on. “This life is not about bank accounts or competing to see who dies with the most zeroes. It’s about helping people, making connections, seeing dreams become realities.”
Javier’s chest hurt. Desmond knew. He knew how important his dream of creating a talent agency on his own terms was, and he knew how painful it was when the dream didn’t work out. But he was right, as long as the entire point was to help people to achieve their dreams, the money didn’t matter.
“That is why I cannot accept this award,” Desmond went on, shocking everyone, even Javier. A murmur swirled through the room, but Desmond stood straighter and said, “I’m sorry, it wouldn’t be right. I’m not the shining example of integrity that you think I am. I cannot accept an award for something I’m not.”
No one seemed to know what to do. All the men and women in suits leaned across the tables to each other as if asking what was happening and how they should proceed.
Desmond was the only one who acted. He stepped away from the microphone and strode quickly off the stage.
“That bastard,” Matthew said behind Javier.
Javier turned to glare at him. “Don’t you dare call Desmond names,” he said.
Matthew looked as shocked as anyone else in the room. “I don’t believe he did that.”
“Was that not in your plans, honey?” Javier snapped, pouring every last ounce of sarcasm he had into his words. “Or were you planning on working behind the scenes and spreading rumors to expose him and ruin him, just like you’ve been doing with me?”
Matthew’s wide-eyed gaze pulled away from the empty stage and focused on Javier like he’d been caught with his hand in the biscuit tin.
“You didn’t think I knew you were the one behind all the trouble my agency has been having lately, did you,” Javier said, taking a step closer to him.
“Desmond is mine,” Matthew said, either as an excuse or a way to defend himself.
Javier didn’t even want to dignify that statement with a reply. Whatever planet of immaturity Matthew was living on, he wanted nothing to do with it. “Desmond has more integrity in his little finger than you, and probably everyone else in this room, has in their entire, puny bodies.”
He stepped right up to Matthew, and since they were already at the wall, Matthew had nowhere to go and nothing to do but to shrink down.
“If you ever contact him again, I’ll make sure you regret it,” he threatened. He would have poked a finger into Matthew’s chest, but he didn’t want to touch the man.
Instead, he pulled back and headed for the door at the side of the ballroom that Desmond had walked through to get backstage.
The hallway on the other side of the door was empty but for the catering staff, though. Desmond was nowhere in sight.
“Have you seen Mr. White?” he asked one of the rushing caterers.
The young man glanced back over his shoulder to a door at the end of the hall. “He ran out of here awfully fast just now.”
Javier swore under his breath and marched down the hall and out into the cramped alley behind the hotel. Desmond wasn’t there either. Chances were he’d called Hassan to come get him, or he’d just buggered off all on his own. Leaving Javier behind.
sixteen
. . .
Cold dread and hot embarrassment warred within Desmond, making him feel sick to his stomach as he fled down the hotel’s back hallway and out the door. He paused once he was out in the thick night air, leaning forward and bracing his hands on his knees as be forced breath into his lungs. The whir of an industrial air conditioning unit off to one side couldn’t quite hide the traffic noise from around the corner. Music was playing somewhere, and in the distance, someone let out a shrill, half-drunk laugh.
All of it was background noise that could do nothing to swallow up the scream of shame that echoed inside his soul.
