If I hated the feeling I'd had that night when he'd left to go to the charity benefit, I hated this more. It was like torture to be so close to him and know that he could basically ignore me even as I sat less than three feet away.
He even did the silent treatment well. I sat there across from him admiring how good he looked and wondered if there anything this guy wasn't incredible at.
By the time we arrived at the hotel, I was chomping at the bit to say something, anything, but his hard expression made it clear he didn't feel the same urge. So I remained silent.
The Richmont Dallas was every bit as luxurious as Tristan's New York hotel, even if it had a more distinctly western feel to it. I had no idea what suite I'd be working in and followed his lead as we made our way to the rooms on the ninth floor. When he finally stopped at a door at the end of the hallway, I hoped that now I could at least get lost in work.
Two steps in and I understood his joke from the restaurant. Whoever had designed the Presidential Suite at the Richmont Dallas had been in love with the color gold and all its varied golden hues. From the draperies to the upholstery to the carpet, the color gold was everywhere.
"Golden opportunity," I mumbled accidentally. "Funny guy."
I realized I'd broken my silence and turned to see him smiling at me. There was that warm smile that had a way of breaking down the walls I'd tried so hard to build around my heart. It went all the way up to his eyes, making the skin around them crinkle slightly at the corners.
"I have faith in you, Nina. All you have to do is find art that will make this room appear less gold."
Looking around, I wondered if he'd given me an impossible task. "Wouldn't it just be easier to redecorate?"
His smile grew wider. "Probably, but then I wouldn't have had any reason to bring you here to Dallas."
And with that he rendered me speechless again. I didn't want to be a slave to his charms. I just didn't have a choice.
Swallowing hard, I tried to keep myself all business. "Must I keep to any particular style or period?"
He shook his head. "No. Make your choices based on what you believe will complete this suite and take the attention away from all this gold."
"How many pieces can I choose? This suite is four rooms."
Tristan scanned the rooms in front of us. "As many as you like. My faith is entirely in you."
"Will we be staying here? There are two bedrooms, I see."
He moved around me and walked over to the bar. Pouring himself a drink, he lifted his glass in the direction of the two bedrooms. "So we're to continue our living arrangements from the house?"
His voice had an edge to it. He was unhappy about my insistence on making him understand how much he'd hurt me. I imagined he didn't have many people in his life who dared to do that. I also sensed he wasn't a man who liked being made to do anything.
"I better get going. I've got my work cut out for me," I said with a forced smile.
Tristan took a sip of his scotch. "Dinner is at six, Nina. I hope I'll see you there."
Nothing in the way he said that told me he hoped anything. It was a clear command that I join him for dinner. What wasn't clear was if I'd obey.
Just a few hours later, I'd found some great pieces and was hungry, despite my wishing I wasn't. Tristan hadn't bothered me while I'd worked, but now as six o'clock loomed, I heard him in the outside room pouring himself another drink. The aroma of the dinner he'd ordered in wafted through to where I stood looking at myself in the mirror.
I would have known that delicious smell anywhere. He'd ordered roast beef.
A peace offering?
I stared into the mirror at the face that looked back at me and asked her, "What do I do? Do I let him back in?"
My reflection didn't have the answer either, and I walked out to find Tristan standing in the middle of the main room in a tux. My heart sank. He was going to do it again. I'd sit there alone in that room eating my roast beef he'd so graciously given me while he spent the night out on the town in Dallas with another gorgeous blonde or brunette.
Before I could say all the terrible things that were begging to be let out of my mouth, he took my hand and kissed the back of it. "I seem to be a little overdressed. Perhaps you should change so I'm not all alone in this getup."
"Why? So you can go meet up with your blond girlfriend and I can sit here like some teenage girl stood up for the prom?" I snapped.
"Blonde?" he asked, looking genuinely confused as to how I knew who he'd spent his time with the night before.
"I saw your girlfriend. Nice lips. Does she mind that you look like a statue when you're with her? I think I have it all figured out, Tristan. You want someone who looks like her for in public, but you want someone who makes you smile like I do in private. Well, sorry. Maybe you should figure out how you can make her do the things that make you happy because I won't be some in-house concubine you keep hidden from everyone but your fucking butler and other household help."
My outburst surprised him for a moment, but then he just smiled. "Oh, you mean Janelle. You misunderstand. She's not my girlfriend. She's paid to be with me at those affairs."
"Paid? You pay a hooker to go with you instead of taking me? And this is supposed to make me feel better?"
A look of distaste crossed his features. "No. She's not a hooker. She's a..."
Waving my hand, I cut him off. "Fine. You're too wealthy for a hooker. What do they call them for someone like you? Call girls? Escorts? Either way, it's still you paying someone to be there instead of being seen with me."
"Nina, you've got it all wrong. She's not there to have sex with or even to date. She's there to act."
"Act? What do you mean, act?" I asked, completely baffled.
"Janelle is an actress who's an employee of mine. My company compensates her to appear at functions like the charity event and act like my girlfriend. There are about half a dozen who I pay very well to pretend I'm with them. Their entire job is to be at my beck and call so I don't have to attend those things alone. I can't imagine it's that bad a job, especially since I pay them handsomely."
I sat down on the chair nearby and struggled to process what he was saying. Who hired people to act like their dates? Jordan was right. Wealthy people did hire people to do their work for them.
"Why not just have a real girlfriend and take her? Is it because I'm not stunning like them?" I hadn't meant to sound so pathetic, but the words had come out far sadder than intended.
He knelt down in front of me and took my hands in his. "I don't take real girlfriends to those things because the press is always there and I learned my lesson a long time ago. It doesn't take long before having to be in front of cameras all the time takes its toll on a relationship. The board of directors likes me to present a successful image, and to them that means having a woman on my arm at all official events."