Page 28 of Fake Dating Daxton Hawk
“Speaking of our arrangement, I’m curious to know something. Do you have women in other cities?”
She’s being polite with her wording. I don’t know the extent of details she’s requesting, but I lay everything on the table for her. “I don’t have any other escorts. No girlfriend. I don’t do casual flings or one-night stands. I’m not seeing anyone.”
She laughs beneath her breath, the sound bitter. “You’re lying. You’re a handsome and powerful man, loaded with money. I’ve seen the way women throw themselves at you. It’s not like you’re short of options.”
So, she thinks I’m handsome—at least I’ve got that working in my favor, if nothing else. But the tone of this conversation isn’t one to be flattered by.
The bartender slides a glass of white wine to Jordan. Before she has the chance to drink, I distract her with more conversation. “I was in a long-term relationship.” I sigh, rubbing my jaw. “She cheated on me. I’ve remained single ever since.”
“Ouch. Now I have to wonder why she cheated on someone like you.”
“Someone like me?”
“A billionaire. Were you a dick to her?”
Something about Jordan’s sharp tongue makes me chuckle. Our dynamic is not at all like this online. This is the Delphine side of her—the girl I enjoy teasing and making blush. Oddly enough, I’m not mad about it.
“Was I a dick to my ex?” I repeat. “You mean kind of like how you’re acting right now?”
There it is, the pink cheeks. She doesn’t play back, though. When Jordan speaks again, her voice is sad, but at least I’m distracting her from the wine. “Maybe you were too caught up in business and weren’t meeting her needs.”
“I gave her everything. I suppose she had a stronger connection with someone else.”
“Okay, sorry, I am being a bit of a dick.”
I smile softly at her. “I’ll forgive the behavior on one condition. You’ve disliked me from our first date. I’d like to know what I’ve done to offend you so I can make things right between us. Please tell me.”
Her gaze meets the ground. “No. It’s embarrassing.”
“How about this, then. Tell me why you’re having a bad day.”
She looks back up at me in contemplation and sighs. “Nothing ever works out for me. I lost my job at Club Noir. I keep being rejected from auditions. Also…” Her shoulders rise with a deep breath. “There’s this guy. I hate him. I hate the entire male population. You’re all jerks. I thought this guy was different, but he isn’t. Long story short, I met this guy called Steel on Secret Santa.”
My chest tightens at the mention, not only from the negative way she’s speaking, but also at the sound of my legal name. I haven’t heard it spoken in years and hate the meaning behind the name, being named after my father—a man I’ve tried so hard to detach myself from.
Jordan continues with her explanation. “Everything between me and Steel clicked.”
The moral compass within me knows this is wrong, to let Jordan speak about this when she doesn’t know who I am. I search for some way to change the topic of conversation, but nothing comes to me.
“Steel became my best friend and then… I don’t know, I guess I started getting attached to him in a romantic way. I know what you’re thinking, that I’m stupid for forming feelings toward someone I’ve never met. Well, you’re right. Iamstupid. I’m the world’s biggest idiot and it’s embarrassing. I shouldn’t have let myself like him so much, but I did. I thought Steel cared about me. He’s been begging me to meet him. The other night I finally agreed to it, and then guess what, he basically ghosted me.”
“Jordan…” Shit. I have messed this situation up so badly. Not only does Jordan hate me as Daxton, but now she’s turned against Steel. My mouth is dry and every muscle in my body is tense. I can’t stand seeing her so upset, knowing I’m the cause of her pain. She needs to know the truth.
“So, yeah, that’s why I hate Steel,” she murmurs with such sadness in her voice. Her attention shifts to the glass of wine sitting on the bar.
“Jordan, I…” The confession is on the tip of my tongue. “It’s… I’m…”
Jordan’s chin trembles as she stares at the wine. A look of deep pain lies within her eyes. “You want to know something else? My parents are alcoholics. They would always drink to forget about their problems. I want to forget about my problems too.”
“Jordan, don’t drink the wine.”
A tear falls down her cheek and she pushes the glass away. “I’m not going to. I ordered the wine to prove a point to myself. My life is falling apart. Temptation is sitting right in front of me. But I’m stronger than my parents.”
Her face crumbles and she bends forward, elbows on the bar and sobbing into her hands.
My insides ache at the sight of her like this. If I tell Jordan the truth about myself right now, it could be too much for her in this state of mind. Would she give in and turn to alcohol? I won’t do that to her. I’m not going to be the reason Jordan drinks and mirrors behavior of the two people who have hurt her most in this world.
“Let me take you back upstairs.” I place a gentle hand on Jordan’s shoulder. She doesn’t respond. Her crying continues, her soft whimpers attracting the attention of nearby people.
