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A couple of girls are giggling and watching us about ten feet away. I smile at them and wave. “We love you,” they say as they film me, then bolt down the hall.
“That’s exactly what I’m doing. Make it happen.” I start to walk.
“Just tell me why,” he calls after me.
“Because I’ve been dead inside, and spending that one moment with her”—I turn to look at him—“made me feel alive.”
Rafe shakes his head. “I don’t like this.”
I nod. “She’s my muse.”
“Shut up with that muse shit, Granger.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Fine, I’ll get it done. What about Axel?”
I laugh. “Axel loves us.” I start down the hall. “Make Gia an offer she can’t refuse.”
“And Paulette?” he yells.
“She’s not my muse,” I yell back into the large hallway, smiling as I hear him curse.
GIA
Present – Twenty-five years old
Paris, France
My phone is ringing again. With a sigh, I roll over and push my eye mask up to look at my phone.
“Jeff, I hate you.” I’m tempted to block him and his numerous missed calls, but he’s such a lunatic, he might just get on a plane. So I text, Sleeping, then toss my phone back on the nightstand. I pull my eye mask down and turn to my side. If I can get another hour, that would be amazing. I take a deep breath and let it out, trying to relax my mind, but all I see are bourbon eyes, full lips, and dark, wild hair.
“Goddammit.” I roll to my back. The room is silent, save for the gentle click of the heat turning on. I hate feeling like this, and by this, I mean remembering. Thank God I have my job to distract me. Fashion Week turned out way better than I expected.
I worked all day, came back to my room, ordered room service, and watched Jeopardy. Sebastian did the party scene, so that kept everyone happy and took away the stress of running into him.
I sigh. Clearly, I’m not going back to sleep. Sitting up, I toss the eye mask and glance at my surroundings, not really seeing them.
I need coffee and a cigarette. I lean over to dial room service and pick up my iPhone to translate that I’d like coffee, eggs, bacon, and a bagel with cream cheese.
I love this feature on my phone. They probably think I’m crazy, but whatever. I lean my head back and try to figure out what I’m gonna do. I’m supposed to return to LA for a quick job, but I might cancel it since New York is starting to look good. It has Julianna and no Jeff.
Great, I’m in another shit mood. This is becoming my new norm lately. Where’s that pack of cigarettes I bought the other day? I bite my bottom lip. I’d quit until the run-in with him.
Asshole.
I haven’t said his name once since I got on the back of my brother’s bike that rainy day. I basically considered him dead…until he became alive again.
I grab my hair and roughly put it into a messy bun as I remember…
Everything.
Not being able to function and locking myself in Axel’s room for days. Fucking pathetic. No man is worth that.
I try to block out that time of my life since all it does is piss me off. I wasted so much heartache on him. Didn’t eat, didn’t sleep. God, I think I dropped ten pounds, and I was thin to begin with. Poor Julianna had to come and get me. Otherwise, there’s no way I would have made it back to school that semester.
Then dealing with my mom flip-flopping between sympathy and her I-told-you-so crap. That’s what made me get my ass into Julianna’s BMW and go back to Berkeley with her. The thought of having to live with my mom in that neighborhood and looking across the street at his mom’s house was not an option.
But I survived. Standing, I stretch to get all the kinks out. Might as well pack since I’m heading back to the States in the morning. A small tap on the door alerts me that room service has arrived. That was fast, or I’ve been so caught up in the past I don’t even realize how much time passed.
“Coming,” I yell, which is stupid because most rooms are pretty soundproof. Thank God my coffee is here. I’m completely jet-lagged. I feel like I could drink a gallon, that’s how sluggish I am. I grab a robe and open the door.
“Good morning, gorgeous.” Sebastian winks at me, leaning against the doorframe, wearing a black beret.
“Jesus.” I roll my eyes at him. He’s ridiculous in all the right ways. I also know him—he’s either plotting or wants something. I step aside, letting the room service guy in. He sets the large silver tray on the table.
