What a Girl Wants (20 page)

She tugged at his coat. “What?” she mouthed.

He squeezed her hand, his attention still on the call. “Thank you, Mark. I look forward to chatting.”

“What?” Ariana said out loud when he ended the call.

“That was Mark Schaffer from Whole Foods.” Sebastian grinned ear to ear. “They had a line go under, and they’re looking for an immediate replacement. They like your brand and want to talk to you about distribution.”

She sat back, blown away. “I’ll have that drink now.”

Sebastian lifted her chin, concerned. “I’m sorry. Bad timing. I should have waited until after the show to tell you. Don’t think about it now.”

“Too late,” she said, trying to smile.

Business faded into the background once she arrived at the studio and the full brunt of what was happening hit her. In the doorway, she stopped abruptly, struck by the fact that she was meeting the woman who gave birth to her, and it wasn’t Lillian.

But she was going to get answers, and that was great. She hoped.

“You’ve got this.” Sebastian touched her back as he kissed her temple. “Just be yourself and everyone will love you.”

If only it was so easy. She looked into his eyes. “That’s all it’ll take?”

“Yeah.” He touched the side of her face. “Trust me. I’ve got experience there.”

She dropped her head against his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here with me.” Then she straightened and marched in.

They were escorted back to the green room, where there was a dressing area where she could spruce. While Sebastian chatted amiably with the production assistant, Ariana went into the glorified closet with her new dress and began to get ready.

She did her makeup first, so she wouldn’t get any on the dress. She didn’t know what to do with her hair—it was weird from the flight—so she pulled it into a sleek ponytail. Then she unzipped the dress and stepped into it.

There was a knock right then. “How are you doing?” Sebastian asked softly from behind the door.

She closed her eyes and let his voice roll over her. Thank goodness he was here. “Come in,” she said, stepping aside so he’d have space.

The moment he entered, everything changed, like it always did. His presence grounded her, and he smiled like he believed she could fly.

“Don’t worry.” He turned her around by the shoulders and zipped up her dress. “You’re going to be great on the show.”

The show wasn’t what she was worried about. She smoothed the dress down and looked in the mirror.

The dress didn’t look like her at all. It was kind of stiff; it made her complexion look like she spent sixty hours a week in cubicles. The fabric itched, too.

“It looks . . .” Sebastian’s voice trailed off.

She turned and studied him. It both worried and reassured her that he didn’t appear to like it either. “It’s just for an hour,” she said for her own benefit. It was just to make a good impression on Hadley James. “I need to put lipstick and my shoes on.”

“I’ll be outside.” He kissed her cheek and left her to fret alone.

There were a couple other guests in the green room when she emerged, plus another assistant who attached a microphone and battery pack to her. She tapped her feet, wishing she could lie down on the floor in savasana to center herself.

“Hello, everyone,” a very made-up woman said as she swept into the room. “Are you all ready?”

It took Ariana a moment to realize the woman was Hadley James. She wore a lot of makeup. She searched her face, looking for something similar, but aside from their eye color there wasn’t any resemblance.

Hadley turned to her with a saccharine smile, holding her hand out. “You must be Ariana Warren. It’s lovely to meet you. Are you mic’ed and ready?”

She took the outstretched hand and waited for a spark or recognition in Hadley’s eyes, some sort of knowing on a molecular level that Ariana was her daughter.

Only there was nothing but a limp shake and the insincere excitement a talk show host was supposed to have for her guest.

Ariana took her hand and wiped it discreetly behind her on her dress. “I’m all set,” she murmured.

“Great. You’re on first.” Hadley flashed another fake smile and started to turn to the next guest.

“Excuse me,” Ariana said, touching the woman’s arm.

Hadley looked over her shoulder, her brow arched. “Yes?”

She wanted to ask to speak to her alone for a second, but her tongue didn’t want to form the words.

Sebastian stepped in. “Ms. James, we’re excited to be on the show today. Thanks for having us.”

Hadley scanned him and practically purred before moving on to the next guest.

“Ariana”—he turned to her and whispered—“are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine,” she lied, trying to smile.

The next thing she knew, she was on the manufactured stage, uncomfortable in her dress and looking into eyes that were like hers, only so different. A production person came and adjusted something on Hadley, who hadn’t said a word to her since the green room.

She really missed her mom and Belle. If only they were here. They’d tease and make her laugh until she felt normal.

Facing Hadley, she tried to find some sort of comfort in her presence, but there wasn’t anything there: no warmth, no interest. Hadley was more interested in the lipstick some makeup person was blotting on her lips.

Ariana shuddered. Did she really want to find a common thread with this shell of a woman?

She turned away and caught a reflection of herself in a monitor. She didn’t look like herself. She snorted. Wasn’t it ironic that she’d come to make sense of herself only to lose who she was?

Hadley leaned in and said, “Don’t be nervous. I’ll ask you a few questions about your products and mission statement, and it’ll be over.”

“I’m Edward Warren’s daughter,” Ariana blurted.

Hadley’s expression went blank and then frosted over as she sat up.

But the producer pointed at them. “In five, four, three . . .”

Hadley pasted a smile on her face and turned to the camera. “This morning we have with us Ariana Warren, the founder of Dew Me, an organic skincare line. Welcome, Ariana.”

“Thank you for having me,” Ariana said dutifully, waiting for the other shoe to fall. Because she may not know Hadley, but it didn’t take a psychic to know she was
not
pleased.

“So what sets your product line apart from any other?” Hadley asked as if she were really interested.

“I hand make every batch, and I customize products for my clients’ specific needs.” She told herself not to fidget. “I believe in making a personal connection with the people I serve.”

“That doesn’t scale well,” Hadley said as if she was a fruit loop.

She straightened her back. “No, but it fosters a feeling of care and love, which is the most important result from using my products. Though not everyone knows how to foster love.”

Her barb hit its target. Hadley’s eyes narrowed with warning. “That’s an admirable goal,” she said as if they weren’t having it out on the air. “But it doesn’t sound very smart business-wise.”

“Success is more than getting ahead or making money. Success is being happy with your choices. I have no regrets.” She looked at Hadley. “I’m lucky that way, I guess.”

Hadley turned her brilliantly fake smile to the camera. “There you have it, folks. Another example of a woman living her dream. Next up, how to craft your own tutus at home.”

The “on air” sign went off, and Ariana jumped up and stormed off stage, struggling to get the microphone off her.

Sebastian hurried to her. “What was that about?”

“Get this off me,” she said, teeth gritted.

Hadley’s staccato heels came to a halt behind her.

Ariana turned around.

The woman’s eyes were blazing. “What was that stunt?” she asked, her voice a hiss. “Are you here to blackmail me?”

Disappointment stabbed her heart. “Not at all. I just found out about you and was curious who you were. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”

Hadley’s fierce gaze mellowed, and she looked Ariana over with new interest.

Too little, too late. She took Sebastian’s arm. “Let’s go.”

Sebastian waited until they were out of the studio before he asked. “What happened back there?”

“It’s not a big deal.” The shoes were killing her. She stopped, took them off, and threw them to the side. She’d never wear them again, anyway.

“It sounded like a big deal. She accused you of blackmail.”

“Because she’s my biological mother.”

It was several feet before she realized Sebastian had stopped walking with her. She turned and froze. Meeting Hadley had sucked, but seeing the look of betrayal in Sebastian’s eyes cut her to the core. She felt more wretched than she had, and that was saying something.

‡

H
er biological mother.

Sebastian looked back toward the studio building, gaping. “Hadley James?”

Ariana nodded miserably, hugging herself. “I had to meet her.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“It didn’t seem necessary.”

“Didn’t seem necessary,” he repeated. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “How long have you known?”

“A couple weeks.”

“Since you asked me to get you on the show?”

She shrugged, looking away.

“So the answer is yes.” He nodded and continued walking out to the car that was waiting for them. Logically, he knew that she didn’t owe him anything, but he thought they had something between them, and this seemed like the sort of thing you’d share.

Hope was a terrible thing.

“Wait.” She grabbed his arm, hobbling after him in her bare feet. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“That’s the worst thing, isn’t it?” He held open the car door for her.

She looked at him as she climbed in. She angled toward him, waiting until the door was closed and he’d instructed the driver to take them to the airport before she said, “I didn’t think you had to know.”

Another arrow to the heart. “Ariana, you should just stop trying to explain.”

“But—”

“But what?” he said, facing her. “I know our relationship has moved fast, but I haven’t hidden my feelings for you. I thought we had something between us.”

“We do,” she said in a small voice.

“If we did, you’d have told me about something that obviously rocked your world. This sort of thing is something you share.”

“I tried to . . .”

“But you didn’t,” he finished for her when she didn’t. “You held back an important part of yourself even after we’d been intimate.
Intimate
, Ariana. What we shared was more than just sex.”

She winced. “That’s blunt.”

“That’s how it is.” He leaned in, aware the driver was listening to their every word. “I cared about you and your business. I wouldn’t have spent this much energy trying to make what you wanted happen if I didn’t care.”

“You were doing it for my dad.”

“I came to meet you because of your dad,” he corrected. “I stayed because of you.”

Blinking, her face paled. “I—”

“When are you going to invite me to see your roof, Ariana?” he interrupted, angling toward her.

She clamped her mouth shut. Then she shook her head. “I don’t know.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “You know, you say you know what you want, but I don’t believe you anymore. You don’t know. So I’m going to tell you what I want.”

She recoiled a little against the seat.

Normally he’d have felt bad, but he was too incensed to feel anything but anger. “I want love and a family that’s my own. I want my own company again, something where I can help small business owners. I want to stay in San Francisco because I love it here.”

He paused, not sure if he should continue.

To hell with it. He looked her in the eye and said, “I wanted you.”

She paled. “Wanted?”

“Wanted,” he confirmed, looking out the window as Los Angeles zoomed by. But God help him, he still wanted her, only not if she was going to hide herself from him.

‡

E
dward turned on the TV and came face-to-face with Harriet Jones for the first time in thirty-three years.