Page 44 of Don't Lie to Me

I couldn’t speak for fear of more tears so I simply nodded and took in Jack’s eyes as he smiled at me. His dimple appeared on his left cheek. I leaned forward and licked it.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” I said with a smile.

Jack threw his head back, laughing. “Get out of the car, Emma.”

I had never attended a charity ball before in my life. And as I walked into the ballroom at the Omni Hotel, I hoped I never had to attend one again. This wasn’t my life. This was Macy or Tate’s, and obviously Jack’s. I knew for a fact Macy had her cotillion in a hotel just like this when she was a teenager and introduced to Chicago’s elite society.

The thought made me snicker as we crossed the threshold into the hotel and the most extravagant setting I’d ever seen. Crystal chandeliers dripped everywhere. Lights sparkled all over the place as if we’d stepped out of the city and into heaven with streets paved with gold. I was walking on clouds and living in the stars at that exact moment. Women drenched in diamonds and emeralds and jewels I couldn’t place walked by us with the dignity of royalty and their men looked just as regal.

I had never felt so homely. Odd considering Macy picked out my dress and on the outside, I probably looked like I fit right in. Inside I was a quivering pool of insecurity.

Jack gripped my elbow tighter and pulled me to him. “You are the most beautiful woman in the room tonight.”

I looked up at him and smiled as he looked down on me. I wondered if anyone could see our swollen lips or our mussed up hair. Hopefully not.

“I’m good,” I whispered back and smiled even though I felt my lips tremble slightly and my knees felt like they could give out at any second.

Jack nodded and removed his arm from my elbow and wrapped it around my waist, securing me to him. “Let’s go find Martin and Marissa and get you a drink.”

Best plan I had heard all night. I followed Jack as he led me through the room. I didn’t miss the looks from the women with one eyebrow raised and pursed lips as they perused me on his arm or the way they flicked their hair and their mouths dropped slightly as they looked at him. They were all wondering what in the hell I was doing with Jack McMillan.

It was, ironically, the first time I had wondered the same thing.

By the time we reached Martin’s table, Jack’s arm around my waist was tighter and my entire body was humming with nervous energy. I expected any minute for Jack to furrow his brows at me and tell me to tap my shit down. But he didn’t, and I was oddly disappointed. Strange that that one sentence from him could be so calming.

“There’s my favorite girl.” Martin affectionately leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“Good evening, Mr. Crawlson,” I said softly and turned to his wife when he let me go. “Mrs. Crawlson.”

“Emma,” Martin scolded me and I wrinkled my nose.

“Fine. Martin and Marissa, it’s lovely to see you both.”

“Finally!” Martin exclaimed with an energetic clap of his hands, “Five years and you’ve finally called us by our names.” Jack chuckled softly and Marissa lovingly held her husband’s elbow.

“It won’t become a habit,” I assured him with a large genuine smile. I took the champagne that Jack offered from a nearby waiter and soaked in the room.

We spoke with the Crawlson’s and a few of Jack’s business associates and competitors until it was time for our sit down dinner. I felt more comfortable in the company at the table while I listened mostly to the men discuss business and the women discuss designers and fashion. I wasn’t completely ignorant when it came to fashion. Macy had been my best friend long enough that I was able to hold my conversation, but I spent most of the night distracted – looking for Marcus, who I knew was there somewhere.

I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for my moment to tell him about Logan and potentially, when my life would change.

I must have tensed up because Jack pulled me closer and stopped his discussion with his CFO and turned to me, concern marring his features.

“You okay?” he asked me as he leaned down and brushed his lips against my ear. To anyone else, it seemed like a typical whispered conversation, but that one simple touch – of his breath so close to me - sent chills down my spine. Jack laughed softly and flicked his tongue out barely grazing my earlobe. “Later, babe. I promise. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

I shook my head to clear my thoughts, and then tensed completely when I saw him. Marcus looked just as handsome as he did when we were younger as he approached us with his perfectly fitted tuxedo. He was dateless, and stopped to shake a few hands. I grimaced when I saw him smile. His dad, the effervescent politician, used the same manufactured smile.

I hated it.

Anger and disappointment rose in me and I tightened my shoulders. I felt the pain in the palm of my hands and looked down to realize I was clenching my fists tightly together. I had never wanted to hit anyone in my entire life; but at that moment, when I saw that slick smile, I wanted to push it off his face and scream all sorts of obscenities at him. I wanted to embarrass Marcus like he had embarrassed me.

I wanted him to feel the pain I felt when I opened the door the night we were supposed to elope only to see his father standing in front of me with that same damn smile, his eyes filled with malice, and his hands filled with a large padded envelope.

I took a deep breath and looked to Jack. His jaw was tense and I noticed his hand on my hip was holding me so tightly he might actually bruise me.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Jack.” I looked at him with frightened eyes but rolled my shoulders back, standing as straight as I could trying to mask my fear. I refused to let Marcus see how much he affected me. I had to get control of myself before my fantasies of pain and revenge played out in a room full of some of the most prominent members of Chicago’s society.

Jack turned me to him so my back was to Marcus and placed his hands firmly on my shoulders. He slowly brought his eyes from Marcus down to me and smiled. It took a minute for the tension to leave, but slowly I watched the affection he felt for me fill his eyes.

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