Starry-Eyed Love (Spark House)

“Can you believe he had the nerve to bring that woman with him to another event? It’s like he’s throwing it in Selene’s face.”

“I know. She’s livid. Did you see her in the bathroom earlier? She’s barely holding it together. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if she confronted him about it. Personally, I’d like a front row seat to that. You know how she is when she’s fired up.”

“Mm-hmm. I sort of feel bad for that woman he’s with, though. She seems like she’s completely in the dark about the entire thing.”

“Who is she even?”

“Some nobody. A pet project maybe? You know what Jackson is like, he’s a bleeding heart. I heard she lost her parents to some kind of horrible disease. It’s probably a lie, and she just used that as a way to lure him in.”

“I don’t know about that. I heard she lost them in a car accident.”

“Drinking and driving?” another woman asks.

“Who knows? He has such a soft spot for charity cases. Always looking to save people, or help them climb the ladder. I mean, look at Selene. She wouldn’t be where she is if he hadn’t pushed her straight into the limelight.”

“Well, it wasn’t as if her family didn’t have influence.”

“But Jackson is the one who really put her on the map.”

“Even after she refused him.”

“Wait. What? Since when?” another woman asks.

“It was a long time ago. I shouldn’t have said anything, so that stays here.”

“My lips are sealed, but that’s a juicy piece of news. I had no idea.” There’s a murmur of agreement from the other women.

“I bet she regrets saying no now,” another one says.

“Mmm. When was the last time Jackson brought anyone other than Selene to an event? Never. I can’t think of one time.”

“Me either.”

“I wonder if that woman is half as clueless as she seems. I don’t think she even realizes the attention she’s drawing or how much gossip there is around her.”

“Did you see the necklace she was wearing, though? That’s a Delacour original. That has to be worth at least a quarter of a million dollars. I heard she runs a bed-and-breakfast in Colorado.”

“Can you even imagine? Her dress and that necklace are probably worth more than her little B-and-B.”

One of the women scoffs. “I bet she’s from some little nowhere hick town. And if that’s the case, her shoes are probably worth more than her shack in the mountains.”

That earns her a chorus of laughter. I’m grateful when their group moves on and leaves the bathroom. I swallow down the bile rising in my throat. My head swims with questions. All of them having to do with Selene, because as much as I’d like to believe those women were just spewing vicious rumors, I’m beginning to realize there must be more to his relationship with Selene than what he’s told me. Otherwise, their reaction doesn’t make sense.

22

THIS UNWANTED REALITY

JACKSON

As soon as dinner is over, I head to the bar for a drink. The silent auction is still running for another hour, and then they’ll announce the winners for each item. With such a great turnout, we should have a sizeable check for the Cancer Research Foundation at the end of the night.

London excused herself to the bathroom. I’d be lying if I didn’t consider abandoning my spot in line at the bar to accompany her there.

I don’t love that I’ve caught Selene glaring daggers at her more than once tonight, or the number of whispers and looks that have been directed at our table, and more specifically myself and London. But following her to the bathroom is a little on the right side of overprotective, and I’m sure I’m just being hypersensitive.

She had a wonderful time at dinner with the Mills wives. Those women are as thick as thieves, and despite their being married into one of the wealthiest families in the country, they’re grounded and very down to earth. They’re also a lot of fun. Which I thought London would appreciate tonight. Hence the reason for the seating arrangement.

I usually sit with Trent and often Selene and her family, but I thought it best to avoid that awkwardness. I tried calling Selene again, but my messages went unanswered. I’m assuming she heard the voicemail I left her about taking London, but I can’t be sure. Trent assured me that he’d speak to her, but I don’t know how that conversation went.

Trent appears beside me and hands me a glass of scotch. “Where’s your date?”

“In the bathroom, where’s yours?” It’s a joke; he rarely brings dates to events. In fact, Trent rarely dates at all.

“I need to talk to you, in private,” he says quietly.

“Why? What’s going on?”

He keeps a smile plastered on his face and shakes his head once. “Not here, too many eyes and ears. Let’s take a walk.”