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17
Nina lifteda glass of champagne from a passing tray and took a long drink as she scanned the crowd. She’d attended the Tony Awards with Jack, the first public event they’d attended since resuming their relationship, and she had agreed to attend an afterparty at the Carlyle even though she had work the nextday.
The paparazzi had gone crazy on the red carpet, snapping pictures and shouting questions. Nina had no doubt she would be featured alongside Jack in tomorrow’s award show coverage, but she could muster only the vaguest interest in the wholespectacle.
Maybe you just don’t know how to behappy.
Karen’s words had been ever-present in the weeks since their conversation at Prospect Park. In the beginning, Nina had been deeply wounded by the implication, but as time had passed she’d started to wonder if Karen wasright.
She was here with Jack, at an event most women would give their right arm to attend, in a dress that cost six month’s rent, drinking expensive champagne. Later she would return to Jack’s penthouse where he would ravish her body as only he could, bringing her to orgasm again and again, making her feel beautiful anddesired.
She should have been happy. Instead she was bored. The only part of the night that was of interest was the promise of sex withJack.
A familiar spark of heat flared between her legs, and she pressed her thighs together to try and squash it. Her appetite for Jack had only grown with the escalation of their games. Sometimes it felt like she lived for the hours after the sun had set, the hours she spent in Jack’s bed, bound and now sometimes gagged, her body plundered not only with Jack’s cock but with an assortment of toys and implements designed to bring them both maximumpleasure.
Nothing else seemed very interesting by comparison, and she’d begun to feel like she existed in a netherworld no one else could see, a world that sprang to life after dark, when she tucked her daytime self, the self she showed the world, away for thenight.
She watched Jack work the room, wondering if anyone else noticed his pained expression as he shook hands, if they realized Jack was putting on a show, that the real Jack was probably as desperate as she was to return to thebedroom.
From their smiles, she doubted it, although it was possible everyone in the room was faking it. Possible all of them had subversive selves tucked awaysomewhere.
It was a miserable way to live. She’d been cherry-picking which details to share with Karen, Moni, Robin, and Amy, hiding her shame like she’d hidden her fear when she’d been married toPeter.
She watched as Jack came to a tiny, curvaceous brunette in a slinky red gown. He lingered in her embrace, her kiss landing closer to his neck than his cheek, her hand possessive on Jack’sshoulder.
Nina immediately recognized Collette Rousseau, the young French actress reported to have been engaged toJack.
Jack hadn’t been immune to Nina’s online research. She’d looked him up shortly after they’d gotten back together, wanting to be sure there wasn’t anything obvious she was overlooking in her desire to trust himagain.
The supposed engagement to Collette had been brief, lasting only a couple of months three years ago according to the gossip magazines and websites that reported it. The articles had detailed a fevered and highly sexual relationship that had resulted in a violet sapphire engagement ring from Asprey valued at an estimated half a milliondollars.
There had been nothing to indicate the gossip was true, and Jack had never mentioned Collette during their conversations about his past, but the proprietary way Collette looked at him, her unwillingness to let go of his arm, and the closeness with which he leaned down to speak in her ear all indicated some kind ofrelationship.
Jealousy wound its way through Nina’s veins, and she had to force herself to remain in place, determined to wait at least a couple minutes before joining them. The last thing she wanted was to look like some kind of needy cougar worried about her boyfriend’s attention to a youngerwoman.
Feeling that way was bad enough, no reason to give anyone elseammunition.
She finished her champagne and drew in a deepbreath.
Maybe you just don’t know how to behappy.
Maybe shedidn’t.
A waiter approached her with a tray of champagne flutes, the sparkling wine bubbling festively in the glasses. Nina set her empty glass on the tray and picked up two full ones, then started toward Jack andCollette.
The room was full of A-listers: movie and stage actors and actresses, singers and musicians, and the ever-present throng of rich philanthropists and socialites who clung to the coattails of people in possession of celebrity money alone couldn’tbuy.
She’d felt incredibly sexy when she’d slipped into the drapey silk georgette gown by Michelle Mason. It was an extra-sensual take on a grecian goddess dress, the front semi-conservative, the fabric hanging in light, luscious folds and wrapping to a back that almost showed the top of herass.
Now she could only notice how striking Collette was in the redgown.
How tight andgorgeous.
Howyoung.
She stopped at Jack’s side and handed him one of the glasses before placing her hand gently on his arm. Collette’s hand immediately dropped to her side, although she made no move to put distance between them, she and Jack still only a footapart.
“Thank you, darling.” Jack bent to kiss Nina’s head, then turned to Collette. “Nina Fontaine, ColletteRousseau.”
