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Without waiting to hear his side.
I compose myself and start to look for something to wear. I finally choose a sleeping shorts and tank top ensemble that closely resembles a pair I have at home, over the collection of smooth satin nighties. I return downstairs, and Landon is not in the living room. Following the sound of a TV, I find him in an adjacent room that looks like a den, with a huge couch facing a wide screen TV. He has set out dinner on the coffee table, and on the TV screen, a popular period drama is showing.
He looks up when I enter the room, his eyes going over my clothes. “I hope you don’t mind,” he says. “I thought having a few things here…”
“I don’t mind,” I whisper. “They’re all perfect.”
“I’m glad you like them.” His voice sounds distant, and it makes me ache. “The shoppers came highly recommended, but in case there’s anything else you want, or something you wish to change, I’ll make sure you have their contact details.”
“Okay,” I murmur. There’s a lump in my throat, and so much I want to say, but the events of the evening seem to have built a wall of awkwardness between us. I join him on the floor in front of the couch and we eat. At first we’re silent, then we talk about the show, about the actors, the historical accuracy of the story, anything but what we’re really thinking.
When the show is over. I help him take the dishes to the kitchen, and stack them in the sink, then sitting side by side on the couch, we finish the wine and watch another episode. He doesn’t make any move towards me, and whenever I look in his direction, his eyes are fixed on the screen. I want to reach out to him, to smooth away every sad memory, and every fear I’ve evoked by my actions. I hate to see that I’ve hurt him, that I’ve reminded him of the type of emotions that ruined his parent’s lives.
When the credits start to roll on the screen, I reach for his hand, my touch tentative. He turns to look at me, his eyes searching mine, and there’s a stark vulnerability in his features that tugs at my heart.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him again, my voice soft.
His fingers curl around mine, and something in his touch gives me hope that I haven’t ruined something between us irreparably. “You don’t have any reason to be jealous, Rachel. You have to believe me when I tell you that.”
I nod. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” I say with a sigh. “I wasn’t thinking at all.”
“No matter what happens,” he says, “don’t run. I want this to work, and I want to be sure you want the same thing.”
“I do,” I tell him.
He nods and draws me closer to him. I lay my head on his chest, and one arm comes around me while the other hand strokes my hair. “I was so worried,” he says, his voice low. “When your phone went off…” he sighs. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid in my life.”
I close my eyes. I want to tell him then. I love you Landon, and I was jealous because the thought of you with anyone else makes me feel like I’m dying. But I’ve become used to holding those words back. I sigh as he keeps stroking my hair, the sensations gently lulling me to sleep.
THE next day in the office, I go to the Swanson Court website to read about the opening gala. Landon has told me a little about it. There’s going to be a charity event, to announce the opening as well as raise money for a good cause.
The information on the Swanson Court website confirms what I already know. There are some press events, then the main event, a fundraising gala for the Shelter Project.
I don’t know much about that particular charity, so I follow a link to their website and read about the annual event, usually held in New York. It generally attracts some of the richest socialites, politicians, and Hollywood stars in the country. Now, they would all go to San Francisco to open the Gold Dust. It made a lot of sense. Landon would get maximum publicity for his hotel, and the Shelter Project would get a substantial injection of funds from people with money to spend, people who couldn’t afford not to be seen at such an event, and those who were curious to see the changes to Gold Dust hotel.
The same information about the gala from the Swanson Court website is presented at the Shelter project site. The theme is a Midsummer Night’s Dream, and honorary chair of the event is Dane Riddell, a Hollywood heartthrob who recently broke hearts all over the world by getting married.
Wondering if there’ll be someone else from Gilt Travel to write about the event. I look over the list of chairs for the event. The name of the editor of Gilt Style jumps out at me, along with another, familiar name.
Ava Sinclair.
I frown. Not sure if my suspicion is right. I remember a few weeks ago, that first time in San Francisco, at the ballet event, Evan Sinclair’s voice in my ear, hateful and angry.“He’s been fucking her for years.”He’d been talking about Landon and his sister. The one who had convinced his family to sell their hotel to Landon.
I didn’t know her name so I couldn’t be sure that she was the one.
But what if she was? It was no big deal if one of Landon’s exes was involved in a charity he was hosting. It didn’t mean anything. My mind goes back to the woman from the picture, but before I start to dwell on the thoughts, I push them out of my mind, replacing them with Landon’s face from last night, how worried he’d been about me, and the intensity with which he’d made love to me this morning.
I resist the urge to find out more about Ava Sinclair, and at lunchtime, I go out with Chelsea and Sonali. Sonali’s skin is glowing from her cleanse, and she’s mulling over an offer she got to intern with the New York branch of a European fashion house. She sulks prettily and expresses her indecision in her crisp British accent.
“I hear you guys are partying all night Friday,” she says enviously. “I wish I could come, but I’m staying away from all my vices for a while. Part of my cleanse.”
“Oh!” I give her a sympathetic smile. “Well, I’m not partying all night, per se. I have to travel on Saturday.”
Chelsea frowns. “Where?”
I tell them about Landon’s opening night.
“Oh. I read about that.” Chelsea says. “The world, their mother, and all the family diamonds are going to be there.” She gives me a look. “What are you wearing?”
