Red Hot Rose Boxed Set (7 page)

I stood and straightened my dress, ignoring the pins on the floor and the rose petals strewn all over the place.
 
I put the envelope still full of money back down on his desk.
 
It was tempting; I thought of all the books it would buy for my last semester and the tuition it could pay.
 
But in the end, I decided that I’d had sex for the fun of it, not for the money.
 
He couldn’t turn me into a prostitute if I didn’t allow him to.
 
And I’m no hooker, dammit.

It wasn’t my problem if he had misunderstood.
 
And having spontaneous, hot sex in the middle of his party in his office sure as hell didn’t mean I expected him to be my boyfriend or my keeper.
 
I’m a modern woman.
 
I can have sex whenever and wherever I feel like it.
 
Besides, I’d rather work at a fast food joint than take that money.
 
I pushed it farther away from me so he’d see it when he sat down again.

I nodded my head firmly, knowing I’d made the right choice.
 
There was a mirror over the wet bar, so I walked over to survey the damage caused by our roll in the hay.
 
My hair was a riot of curls and frizz, and my dress was a tiny bit wrinkled, but I didn’t care.
 
I was going to walk out of that party with my head held high, just like I imagined Jessica would if she were in my shoes.
 
I am a sex goddess in high heels with bad hair, and if Alexander Blackstone doesn’t like it, he can kiss my big white butt.

I stepped out of the office and into the hallway, expecting to hear all kinds of noise or a ruckus or something; but all that greeted me was silence.
 
I made my way down the hall, passing right by the artwork and perfectly applied venetian plaster, something I’d normally stop and admire since it’s a craft my father used to practice before he died.
 
My priorities were to find Jessica and then get the heck out of there, preferably without anyone seeing the back of my dress which I feared had a stain on it.
 
I rounded the corner and entered the foyer, stopping for a moment as my eyes took in the scene before me.

A group of people were standing near the front door.
 
At the center was a woman wearing a bright blue dress, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed, diamonds flashing at her fingers and around her neck.
 
She was holding onto the arm of a politician I remembered seeing on television several times.
 
In one of my public relations classes we’d studied spin doctoring, and one of the videos had featured this guy’s campaign manager.

I searched my memory for who he was.
 
What’s his name … come on, come on … something like Stone or Granite or … Flint! That’s it.
 
Arnold Flint.
 
He must be Jacqueline’s date, which would make that Jacqueline.

Alexander was speaking to them, but his back was to me, so I couldn’t see if he was still angry or if he was faking being a happy, welcoming host.
 
If he were my public relations client, I’d tell him to plaster a smile on his face and never lose it.
 
It was seriously powerful stuff, and his other look - the one I saw in the office - was way too scary for parties.

I studied Jacqueline from where I was standing.
 
She had a haughty air about her and was obviously very sure of how gorgeous and sophisticated she looked and feeling very confident about being there in Alexander’s house.
 
I could almost sense a proprietary air in the way she looked around at the people gathered near her.
 
Apparently, Alexander not wanting her there didn’t matter one bit to her.
 
It almost seems as if she’s taunting him.
 
Hmmmm…
 
I sensed a history there that may or may not include envelopes of money.
 
I smiled, proud that I’d left the one he’d offered me behind me on the desk.
 
I was willing to bet she would have taken it
and
signed up for the next round.

I spared a moment to scan the rest of the crowd that had started to increase, almost exponentially.
 
My roommate was not one of them, unfortunately, so I began to formulate a plan for getting out of the house and back home without her.
 
Or maybe I could just wait by her car for her to come out.
 
Would the valet let me do that?

I started skirting the edge of the foyer, headed towards the door.
 
All I had to do was get around the crowd and I’d be home free.
 
I kept my eyes on the prize, focusing on not tripping in my heels or otherwise calling attention to myself.

Before I’d gotten five steps, flashes of light came through the front door.
 
Dammit!
 
What the heck is this now?
 
I stopped in my tracks.

“Excuse me!
 
Mr. Blackstone!
 
I’m on the guest list!” came a voice from just outside the door.
 
“I’m not being permitted in!”

All heads in the foyer turned to face the voice.
 
More flashes of light came in through the door.

Flashbulbs?
 
The press is here?
 
My eyes widened at the thought of being caught with my hair and dress a shambles for the front page of the paper.
 
Holy shit.
 
I have to get out of here now!
 
I looked around, frantically trying to find another exit, but the only way out I could see was the office behind me or the door in front of me.
 
Everyplace else was blocked by the group of people growing bigger by the second.

I took two more steps towards the door, but froze when I saw Jacqueline’s gaze swing my way.
 
Her head stopped when her eyes landed on me.
 
They quickly narrowed into slits, going from surveying to targeting.
 
From where I was standing I could actually see her lips press together into a thin line.
 
I was in her crosshairs.

Busted!
 
I felt like a deer caught in the headlights.
 
I wanted to run, hide, be anywhere but here.
 
This woman was trouble, I could smell it from across the room.
 
She might have been holding onto the arm of Senator Flint, but from the moment I’d seen her standing in the doorway, I knew she only had eyes for Alexander.
 
And now she’d caught me sneaking out, or trying to sneak out, from behind him.

I watched in horror as she separated herself from her date and pushed past Alexander to come towards me.
 
I considered making a break for it, but the look in her eye stopped me along with the four inches of heel that made it impossible for me to move at faster than a walking pace.
 
She knew she had me, and she was intending to scrape me over the coals or somehow humiliate me, that much was clear.

I took a deep breath and readied myself for the inevitable interaction.
 
No one can make a fool of me unless I let them.
 
I am a public relations and marketing professional!
 
I am an educated woman, and I am not a prostitute!
 
I thanked the lucky stars that something inside me had urged me to leave the money.
 
I was sure that if it were in my hand right now, I’d be too ashamed to face this she-devil down; and she was the kind of person, I could tell already, who would have no problem mentioning it in front of everyone.
 
Anything that would give her the upper hand would be a weakness I didn’t want to have.

She stopped when she was just a few feet away from me.
 
Without any preamble at all, the dance began.

“Who are you?” she demanded.
 
“And what are you doing coming out of Alex’s study?”

I didn’t answer right away.
 
I took my time, looking her over, gathering my thoughts and making her wait.
 
I’d learned some techniques and heard some words of wisdom from my professors in some of my classes, all of which were coming back to me as flashes of brilliance.
 
Show no weakness.
 
Fake it until you make it.
 
Altitude is all about attitude.
 
I squared my shoulders and schooled my features to look bland and uninterested.
 
I was going to totally convince the world that my hair looked like it did on purpose.

Her hair had been highlighted by someone who probably charged her a fortune.
 
It looked as natural as if she’d just spent a month in Jamaica.
 
The Botox injected between her eyes was doing a find job of smoothing away the fine wrinkles that might have been foolish enough to try and become a part of her face.
 
Not a single hair was out of place on her head, and I was pretty sure it was that way without the use of a whole can of hairspray, unlike my own.
 
But she was wearing a hideous shade of red lipstick that would have looked amazing on Jessica but just made her look like a clown.

I smiled at that.
 
I may have had a rat’s nest for a hair-do, and I might have been sneaking out of this party with a stained dress and underpants, but at least I wasn’t wearing ugly lipstick.

“Who I am is none of your business … Jacqueline,” I responded cooly.
 
I tried to take a step to the left to go around her, but she side-stepped and blocked my exit.

“Do I know you?
 
How do you know my name?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” I asked, innocently.
 
It was the best I could do off the cuff.
 
I thought I’d keep her confused about her own popularity.
 
She seemed to be someone who had an inflated sense of self.

She frowned, and then as her eyes scanned my dress and hair, she got an angry look on her face.
 
Her voice came out as a vicious-sounding accusation.
 
“You were fucking him, weren’t you?”

Before I could react, Alexander appeared at my side.
 
“Jacqueline, your date is waiting for you at the door.”

“Let him wait,” she said, still staring daggers at me.
 
“Your little slut and I were just having a conversation.”

My jaw dropped open.
 
“Who are you calling a slut,
clown?”
 
I could feel the adrenaline rushing into my veins.
 
I wasn’t normally a fighting person, but nobody was going to call me a slut but me … and possibly Jessica, but I only permitted that because I knew she meant me no harm.
 
That was not the case with this witch.

Her nostrils flared.
 
“Did you just call me a clown?”

“Yeah, I did,” I said sweetly, before getting all threatening on her.
 
“Because where I come from, that’s what we call hags who wear the wrong lipstick to parties.
 
Clown.
”

Alexander put a hand on each of our arms.
 
“Ladies … I believe, perhaps, that this is a conversation better had behind closed doors, don’t you think?”

By now the crowd that had been at the door had migrated over and was gathering around us.

I backed up as much as I could, dragging Alexander with me, making sure no one could get behind me.
 
The last thing I needed was the paparazzi taking pictures of my backside drama right along with the front-side mess.

My plan for a quick escape was going right down the tubes, so my brain worked like mad trying to come up with a Plan B.
 
I had to get through at least two cameramen, their accompanying journalists, and about ten other people who’d wandered in from the party now.
 
But my only real problem was going to be Jacqueline.
 
She was like a dog with a bone, and she wasn’t going to just let me just walk out.

“Who’s the young lady, Alex?” asked one of the journalists.
 
He was a younger guy, someone I might have found cute if he weren’t about to expose me for being the slut at the party.

I glanced at Alexander, who was smiling tightly.
 
“This is Rose.
 
She was just on her way out.
 
She has work to attend to.”

“Always the slavedriver, eh, Mr. Blackstone,” commented one of the guests who’d joined the group.
 
Everyone had a good laugh at that one.

Heh, heh.
 
If you only knew!
I thought to myself.
 
Things hadn’t gotten ugly yet, but I could see the potential for disaster just hovering in the air above us.