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"Yes, my life is complicated and very much in California with Heath." I offer a forced smile, feeling sick. I hate awkwardness and confrontation of any type. And I'm not sure if it's because of the way he's looking at me or if it's from Heath's lurking. He told me he had some things to do and wouldn't be finished for a couple of hours, but him being back here so quickly makes me feel sort of strange. Like he doesn't trust me.
"I understand. If anything ever changes, though, it's an open invitation." He takes my hand across the table, placing a kiss to the back of it. "There will always be a spot for your talent here." He pushes his chair back and stands to leave.
"Thank you, Julian. I appreciate everything," I say with a tight smile, keen to get out of this place myself.
"I'll be in touch, Amelia." He strides away. I breathe a sigh of relief. It's all done, and he liked my designs. And I got through the meeting without anything too weird happening.
But when I glance back to where Heath was sitting at the bar, he’s not there anymore, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see why. He's approached Julian. They couldn't say more than two words to each other but words are exchanged, and then Heath stalks back to the bar, fists clenched, and throws back his drink, slamming the empty glass on the bar. He's pissed.
He orders another drink then sits back at the bar, back facing me, and brings his scotch to his lips. And something about the whole thing—the look of anger in his eyes or the way his knee bounces nervously—brings memories back of how overprotective he was of me in high school. And my stomach sinks further. That's why I didn't like him in the same room as me while I was having this meeting with Julian. I knew how he would overreact.
I finish off my now-cold coffee and gather my drawings. Images flash through my mind, guys from my school with broken noses or split lips. Heath has a temper when it comes to guys talking to me or about me or even looking my way. I thought he would have outgrown such childish behavior, but clearly not. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm myself before I approach him to find out what exactly he just did. He better not have fucked this opportunity up for me, he knew how excited I was.
I walk toward him, trying to remember we’re in public. I don't want to cause a scene. I don't know if he has even done anything stupid yet. I need to give him the benefit of the doubt. "I really hope that was a friendly hello to the man who is offering me an amazing opportunity and a lot of money," I get out through clenched teeth.
He looks me over, like he's annoyed with me. And I have my answer. "The plane is ready, with our luggage packed and already on it. We leave in half an hour. There is a car waiting out front when you're ready," he says, his tone icy.
"Oh, thanks, I'm ready," I snip back, feeling the tension bubbling beneath the surface.
He finishes his drink then stands, holding a hand out for me. I take it, but it's not a comfortable hold like it was when we walked around the city last night. He's just as uptight as me. Without another word, he walks me through the restaurant to the car waiting in the turn circle out front. I can feel the stress in his muscles. He's really angry, but he has no right to be, nothing happened. Yeah, Julian was kind of suggesting something could, but that was it. If anything, it could be the language barrier, and I was misinterpreting him. It was probably nothing.
He opens the door for me, and I slide in, fiddling with my rings awkwardly, wanting to be anywhere but here with him right now. His silence is screaming at me so loudly my ears hurt. I'm not sure if I should bring up what was said between them or wait for him to. I don't want my last memory of the wonderful time we had together in Paris to be tainted by us having a fight, and I can feel by the tension, that's where this is going. If he thinks he can throw his weight around and interfere in my life because he's told me he loves me, he has another thing coming. He has asked me to trust him, and he needs to be able to do the same with me. No matter what Julian wanted, I would never do anything with him. Heath should know how loyal and trustworthy I am.
The car pulls away from the hotel and into the bustling midafternoon traffic. I stare out the window, trying to take mental images of the beautiful old architecture. Anything else to focus on right now is a good thing.
"Have you signed a contract with him?" he asks with an edge to his tone.
I glance over at him; he's staring straight ahead, not even looking at me. What the hell happened in the ten seconds they talked? "Not yet. He's sending the paperwork through to my office. But I will be," I insist, making sure he knows where I stand on this matter.
"I don't want you working with him," he says as a statement. Like there will be no discussion, his decision is final, and he is putting down his foot. I almost want to laugh at his audacity. Like hell he has that much say in what I do.
I narrow my eyes at him. The irritation that was churning in my tummy is now bubbling dangerously close to the surface. If he thinks he can boss me around and not even give me an explanation, he has another thing coming. "Why? This is a massive opportunity for me. What is your problem with Julian exactly?"
His dark eyes flick to me. "I understand you're excited about this, but the way he was acting around you made me sick to the stomach. And it should have bothered you as well. Maybe you don't see the way men look at you, but you’re very beautiful, and they do, all of them. And I won't have some asshole thinking that because you want to work with him that he somehow owns you."
"No one owns me, Heath," I sputter, feeling this situation slipping out of my control. I don't want to say anything I will regret later, but Heath had better watch himself, because he's walking a thin line. It’s one thing to be protective of the ones you love and another thing entirely when you want to control them.
"Men like Julian think they do. Don't be naïve, Amelia," he says like I'm a kid and he knows better.
I break into a hot sweat, his words getting to me. How stupid does he think I am? I have been running my business for years before he came along, and yeah, I know it's a man's world when it comes to business, but I have been doing just fine on my own until now. I'm not about to be walked all over.
"Chill out, Heath. He's French, they’re all touchy-feely, but it doesn't mean he wants in my pants. And besides, we will be working together from different countries. Don't think you have anything to worry about." I'm mad now, really fucking mad. I don't like being told what to do. Especially by jealous men who clearly have no faith in me.
"Why did it make me want to punch him in his face when he put his hands on you then? I know what I saw. He was into you for more than your designs."
In a way I know he’s right, but I'm not telling him that. It's not even relevant here. This is only a problem because he is making it one when it doesn't need to be. Even if Julian wanted something more from me, I would never do it. I'm not interested in him in that way. "What did you say to him?"
"Told him to keep his fucking hands off you."
"What did he say back?" I demand, needing all the facts before I react.
"He said I was a lucky man and I should keep a real close eye on you."
I blink back at him, a bit shocked. Why would he say that? Why didn't he just tell him he had nothing to worry about? "Because you were being an overbearing ass. Give me some credit. Even if he was interested, I only have eyes for you, so that’s all you need to be worried about.”
He stares at me with fire in his eyes, and I give him the same look back. All I can think is this is bullshit. We were having such a good time together. Why did he have to go and ruin it?
"Okay," he says, his face softening a little.
