Surge: (#7 The Beat and The Pulse) (8 page)

W
hen I’d left
my apartment, I felt like a princess.

Standing on the street out the front of the Gala all done up in my gown, I felt like an outsider. Cinderella on acid…without a fairy godmother.

Car after car dropped off guests as I stood to the side with all the other PRs and assorted media representatives, watching the glamorous commotion unfold before us.

I wasn’t surprised to be standing here since it’d been the same way for the last two Gala’s, but this time, it felt like a kick in the ass. Especially since certain things had changed.

“Josie!”

I smiled as Jasmine Cutter approached, dressed in a red, silky dress that fit her perfect body like a glove. Paired with her long chestnut hair twirled up in a fancy updo, red lips, and glittering diamond necklace, she made me want to puke.

Jasmine was one of the executives of Tightrope, the charity hosting the Gala, and I’d dealt with her on many occasions, setting up meets and training days with the Twins. She was a woman at the top of her game, professionally and personally. One hundred percent beautiful and smart. Totally one of those annoying people who were good at everything they did and were genuinely nice.

“How are you?” she asked, leaning forward to air-kiss me on the left
and
right.

“Fine,” I replied, plastering on my PR face. “And you? You’ve got a great turn out tonight.” I nodded at the crowd filing into the ballroom and the flashing cameras along the front of the building capturing the athletes and celebrities as they arrived.

“It just keeps getting better year after year,” she gushed. “We’ve already smashed last year’s donations, and hopefully, we can add some more tonight.” She glanced around and laid her hand on my arm. “Are the Twins here yet? I’d love to see them before the night gets too busy.”

I swallowed a lump of jealousy and smiled. “They’re coming in now.” I gestured toward the line of cameras where I could see the backs of the Twins’ heads.

They had their arms around one another’s shoulders hamming it up for the press as per their usual routine. So far, Dean had been a real upstanding member of society and hadn’t stuffed up once…but the night had only just begun.

I watched on with a pang of longing as Lincoln peeled away from his brother and took Violet in his arms. It wasn’t my job to stand up there with them. It was my job to hang back in the wings and watch, no matter how much I wanted to be on the arm of a certain fighter.

I belonged back here.

“Great,” Jasmine cooed. “It was really great to see you again, Josie. I’ll be in touch about the next training day.”

I nodded, plastering on a fake smile. “Sure thing.”

My eyes narrowed as I watched her sashay across to Dean, willing her to trip over. I was sure they’d had a fling in the past because when she looked like a Monica Miller clone, it was a sure thing with him even if Jasmine wasn’t clued up about it.

Dean turned as she called out to him and smiled widely at her. She placed a hand on his arm and laughed as he said something, and it was just as perfect as she was. Then they turned to the cameras and had a few photographs taken together. Together meaning pressed up against one another like a couple.

Turning, I threaded through the other corporate junkies standing around me and ventured inside so I didn’t have to witness perfection anymore.

Hello service entrance. I was such a reject.

Lingering in the main foyer, I watched the couples filing into the ballroom. Within, I knew there’d be an elegant spread of fine wine, canapés, and live music waiting.

I smiled politely as I caught the gaze of the current AUFC welterweight titleholder leading his girlfriend inside. Following him was a familiar face I’d seen in the papers. An Aussie Rules footballer. The whole place was littered with professional athletes from all kinds of sports. Men and women who were at the top of their chosen field had come out in droves.

And every single one of them had someone on their arms. I squashed down another pang—this time, it was longing—and smiled at another fighter who crossed my field of vision. All those people out there in the world and I had to keep choosing the wrong ones. When would I find the right one?

I blinked away the sting of tears that had sprung unexpectedly into my eyes and jumped a mile when I realized Dean was standing beside me.

“Jo,” he said, looking sexy as hell in his suit.

Instead of wearing the traditional tux many of the men had on, he’d opted for a gray shirt with a silver pinstripe and a solid black tie, which was a little loose around the collar. That was Dean Hayes, though. Forever breaking the mold.

“I looked for you outside,” he said, his gaze lowering to my overstated cleavage.

“Oh…” I began awkwardly, but his mouth practically fell open and gaped as he took my appearance in for what felt like the first time in his entire life.

“You look…” He shook his head, returning his gaze to mine. “Stunning. That dress…” He reached out and ran the tip of his finger along the seam that ran across my stomach. The seam that began at my shoulder, ran over my breasts, and finished at my navel.

“Thanks,” I muttered, edging away.

He frowned. “I wanted to walk you in, but you’d already disappeared.”

I wasn’t sure what his intentions were, but I attempted a smile and said, “I forked out for the queue jump ticket.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he murmured.

I scoffed, shoving away the tiny spark of hope that had ignited in my heart. “Are you still on this?”

He stepped forward, lowering his voice as a couple walked past us and into the ballroom. “Jo, you need to listen to me.”

“I can’t,” I hissed. “We said everything that needed to be said the other day.”

“Nope, you did all the talking, Jo. You didn’t even listen to a single thing I said.”

Maybe he was right, but it still didn’t change anything. I was still making bad choices, and he was still conflicted over his long-standing feelings for a vapid bitch, no matter what he said.

He was wrong about one thing. I had listened to him when he cornered me in my office. My biggest problem was I didn’t believe a single word he’d said. He was only looking now because I’d practically offered him sex he didn’t have to work for. I was a sure bet. Unlucky for Dean Hayes, I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

“I’m going in,” I declared and stalked away, not waiting for him to follow.

Stepping into the ballroom, I threaded through the wall of guests, doing my best to lose Dean in the scrum. Hopefully, someone would pull him aside for a chat long before he caught up. I needed a stiff drink.

A waiter paused in front of me with a tray, and I plucked a flute of champagne from it.

“Don’t go too far,” I said to him, and he smirked knowingly.

Sipping on the sweet champagne, I lingered behind a tight-knit group of footballers and stared past them to the dance floor. Couples were swaying to the music, which was provided by an ensemble of string musicians, consisting of violins and cellos.

Maybe it was sappy, but I wanted to be out there in the arms of a man who wanted me. I wanted to know what it felt like. That was my fairy tale. Not the service entrance.

“Josephine Cunningham.”

I almost dropped the flute of champagne as a deep voice boomed in my ear, and when I turned to scold whoever it was that my name was Josie, I copped an eyeful of the last jerk in the world I wanted to see.

Gabe O’Connell stood beside me with a wicked grin plastered on his face. I instantly wanted to throw up at the thought of what I’d almost done with him last weekend.

“May I?” he asked, offering his hand to me.

I glanced at his outstretched palm then back to him and curled my lip. “No thanks.”

“C’mon. Just one dance, and then I’ll leave you alone.” I hesitated, and he winked. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Since when do fighters dance?” I asked, giving him the once-over. His movement in the octagon was fluid and precise, but it didn’t mean it’d translate to an elegant dance floor.

He smiled. “There’s no difference between knowing how to please a woman in bed and how to seduce her on the dance floor. They are all the same moves.”

I raised my eyebrows and snorted. “Wow, you’re a real piece of work.”

“Are you going to dance with me or not?” Gabe asked, wiggling his fingers.

Narrowing my eyes, I placed my glass onto the tray of the waiter who’d lingered as I’d asked, turned back to Gabe, and grabbed his hand. Dancing with the enemy. That’d teach Dean for trying it on with me while still hanging out for another woman.

“Pushy,” Gabe drawled. “I like it.”

I rolled my eyes and tried not to vomit all over his tuxedo. “Get over yourself.”

He laughed and wrapped his left arm around my waist, and curled his right hand around mine. Reluctantly, I placed my hand on his shoulder and allowed him to have his five seconds. If I continued to fight, I might get him hard, and then how was I going to get rid of him?

He began to move us back and forth to the music, obviously proud of himself. As he worked his body against mine, I began to see what he meant about seduction. I knew he’d be good, but his arrogance let him down big time.

“I told Lincoln about the challenge,” he said, enjoying having me in his arms a little too much. “Tomorrow it’ll be official.”

“That’s a little unorthodox,” I replied.

“I’m surprised you didn’t tell him yourself.” He smiled knowingly, his fingers tightening around my waist.

“Are you implying something?”

Gabe raised his eyebrows but failed to hide his amusement. “No, not at all. Though I would like to pick up where we left off.”

“Oh, the part where I said no and slammed the door in your face?”

“You liked it, Josie,” he murmured. “Don’t deny it.”

“You just keep it to yourself,” I hissed. “It’s never going to happen again. Not in a million years.”

“So you didn’t tell the Hayes Twins about our little tongue wrestle,” he mused, raising his eyebrows. “Interesting.”

“You’re so arrogant it makes me sick.” I attempted to put a little more distance between us, but he just held me tighter. “It’s a real shame, you know.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Nothing shameful about it, love. I know what I want, and I go after it. Can you say the same?”

He had me there. I had a tough exterior, but underneath the shell, I was soft and gooey. It hadn’t taken much for me to fall apart and run away when Dean rejected me. A little heartbreak had never stopped me before, so why now?

This time is different
, a little voice in the back of my mind whispered.

“What do you want, Josie?” Gabe asked, lowering his lips to my ear. “Find your deepest, darkest desire and make it come true. No fear.”

Glancing over his shoulder, my gaze slammed into Dean’s, and I sucked in a sharp breath. He looked pissed. Actually, he looked more than pissed. His lips were tight, the vein in his forehead practically throbbing. If we were talking about deep and dark desires, then what I wanted was for Dean Hayes to—

“I can help you find out,” Gabe murmured, his words bringing me right out of my lusty thoughts and back into the present where I was currently in the arms of a slimeball.

“You can’t help me find anything,” I snapped, trying to pull away from him.

“Can I cut in?”

We glanced to the side as Dean appeared out of nowhere. His stormy gaze was locked on mine, and he never once acknowledged Gabe as he shoved his arm between us and claimed me for his own.

The whole motion had caveman written all over it. He was seriously a hair’s breadth from clubbing me over the head as his left hand slipped around my waist and his right held onto mine. His shoulders were tense as he jerked me against his body and began moving us back and forth to the delicate music filtering around us. Talk about a stark contrast.

“Sure thing, man,” Gabe declared, holding his hands up in defeat. As he backed off, he gave me one last wink, and then he was gone.

“Dean, look…” I began, attempting to explain why I was consorting with the enemy.

“What did O’Connell say to you?” he asked, looking displeased.

“He told me he spoke to Lincoln earlier,” I said, leaving out about a million other things he’d mentioned. “He’s challenged him for the title.”

Dean didn’t look happy about that, either. “He told him in person? Tonight?”

“It’ll be official tomorrow,” I added.

“He had to dance with you to tell you that?”

“Let it go, Dean,” I replied.

He grunted, and his hand slipped lower on my back. I was beginning to become overly aware of our current embrace, and it had nothing to do with decorum in the slightest.

“You’re dancing,” I said, my eyes widening.

He smirked, tension bleeding from his shoulders, and he spun me around. “So?”

“I’m surprised. Like, genuinely surprised,” I said as he tightened his grip on my hand.

His lips pulled up in one corner. “That I’d make an effort?”

“Last time, you looked like you were in agony.”

“I was.”

I smiled, not knowing if I should run or let this play out.

“What changed?” I asked, choosing the latter.

His chest rose as he sucked in a deep breath. Lowering his gaze, he seemed to savor his response before letting me hear it. He was having too good a time with the anticipation for my liking.

Finally, he murmured, “My eyes were opened.”

My heart leapt. “Dean…”

Before I could say any more, he let go of my waist and tugged me from the dance floor. His grip was like steel as he led me across the ballroom, through the crowd, and off to the side.

“Dean,” I said, almost falling ass over tit in my sky-high heels. “What are you doing?”

He pushed through a side door, and we emerged into a hall that was devoid of life. At the realization he was looking for a darkened corner, I began to tremble, my gaze darting to and fro, trying to find a way out. I’d wanted this, but now it kind of terrified me. It was a line I was willing to cross a week ago, but now? I wasn’t sure it was such a great idea.