Page 38 of Blown

Rafe thought he’d died and gone to heaven. Hélène Rénard wanted to come view his work. “Yes,” he said.

She glanced past him to Jake. “And you, Jake Mathers. Do you have work at this Hawthorne House as well?”

Rafe tensed. So help him, if Jake stole his thunder now, there would be hell to pay.

“I’ve been working with Rafe for the past few months,” Jake said, surprisingly sheepishly, “but it’s his work, his concepts.”

“I see,” Hélène said. “And are these new concepts entirely Monsieur Hawthorne’s?”

“For the most part,” Jake said. “Rafe is brilliant and innovative. You should see what we’ve accomplished in the last few weeks. I think it’s going to set the world on fire.”

Hélène smiled at Rafe once more. “Then I must see it,” she said. She gestured to Rafe, then went on with, “Give me your phone number and I will call to make arrangements within the next few days.”

Rafe could hardly believe his luck. The night had been a wild rollercoaster. He was still beyond furious with Jake, but it seemed as though regardless of the lies, his fortunes might have just taken exactly the turn he’d hoped for.

He wanted to say more to Hélène. If he’d had his way, they would have gone back into the hotel, or even across to Cupid’s Arrow again, and had a drink while talking about glass. But whoever Hélène was waiting for pulled up to the curb a few moments later, and with a few parting words, she ducked into the sleek, black sedan and sped away.

Rafe had to take a moment to just stand there, watching the car disappear into the night, breathing in the disbelief of his sudden good luck.

His buzzing excitement was cut short when Jake said, “See? Everything turned out alright in the end after all,” in a quiet, hesitant voice.

Rafe pulled himself tight. The idea that he should let things go and give Jake the benefit of the doubt warred with the blistering hurt he felt.

“You lied to me,” he said, still staring out at the traffic. “You told me you would introduce me to Hélène Rénard if I married you and helped you get a spousal visa.”

“I mean, you could sort of argue that I did what I said I’d do,” Jake said, still hesitant.

Rafe turned to him, glaring. “This isn’t about Hélène Rénard,” he said, boiling with anger as he drank in the sight of Jake standing there, slightly hunched, looking worried and defeated. “This is about you manipulating me to get what you wanted. What were you planning to say when I discovered the whole thing was a malicious fabrication?”

“Sorry?” Jake took a step back.

Rafe followed that momentum, walking toward him, which had the result of moving both of them out of the flow of foottraffic and up against the side of the hotel. It was better that way. Fewer people would hear as he tore Jake a new arsehole.

“All this time, I believed that you actually liked me, that we could form some sort of partnership, no matter how brief,” he hissed.

“I do like you,” Jake insisted. “I like you so much. I lo?—”

“Don’t say it.” Rafe held up a finger in warning. “Don’t you dare say those words to me now. You don’t really feel them. You don’t feel anything but love for yourself.”

“That’s not true,” Jake said, his voice and expression filled with hurt.

“Isn’t it?” Rafe demanded. “Since the moment you arrived in London, all you’ve done is tell me and my family exactly what they want to hear so that you can get your own way. You manipulated me into making a major life decision based on a lie. You wormed your way into my bed as a way to pull the wool over my eyes.”

“I didn’t,” Jake insisted, stricken. “That was something special between the two of us.”

Rafe shook his head, wanting to believe him but too blindsided and hurt by the events of the night to let himself. “What part of your little deal did you think would benefit me?” he asked.

“I…I don’t know,” Jake said, shaking as he tried to defend himself. “I would have come up with something. I do like you, Rafe. You’re the only person who has ever given me the benefit of the doubt and been truly nice to me.”

Rafe pulled back, laughing bitterly. “Listen to yourself,” he said, gesturing to Jake. “In your own words, you just admitted that the only reason you like me is because of what I’ve been able to do for you.”

“That’s not the whole story.” Jake swayed after him. “I admire your work. You’re a thousand times more talented than Iam. I want to see you succeed. You’re smart and funny and hot, and this afternoon was the best sex of my life. It was special. You’re special.”

“Oh, yes,” Rafe said, pushing a hand through his hair and moving restlessly on his spot to diffuse the angry energy pulsing through him. “There you go again, telling me things you think I want to hear to get on my good side.”

“What do you want me to do?” Jake demanded. “I screwed up, yes, but you’re not letting me say or do anything to make it better.”

“I don’t think you can make it better,” Rafe spat back at him. “You’ve made me feel like a tool, like I’m nothing to you but a means to an end.”

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