by Emma Quinn
Amused, Peter grinned and said, “What else do you like?”
I hummed in thought. “It’s nice that you’re nice. You’re mean to everyone else, but not to me.”
“That’s because you’re special, Rachel.”
Did I hear that right? Was that a trace of a blush I was seeing across the tips of Peter’s ears? Dear God, how drunk was I? I swore I was never ever drinking again. I prayed that by morning, I’d forget everything about this embarrassing encounter.
“Peter?”
“Hm?”
“Do you think I’m ugly?”
Peter pulled back and looked downright affronted. “No,” he answered firmly. “Rachel, why would you say that?”
“Wouldn’t it make more sense if you were fake engaged to someone realistic? Like plausible? Like–” I gestured with my hands, not knowing quite how to put my drunken thoughts into words. “More suitable for you. Jesus, English is hard.”
“Rachel, I–”
“You once told me to do my hair and put on make up because you didn’t want to drag someone who looked like me around,” I mumbled. “Maybe your Mother’s right.”
“She’s not.”
A nagging voice in the back of my head started to scream at me. You’re not pretty enough. You’re not smart enough. You’re not good enough for him. This was why I didn’t like to drink. I was losing control. My thoughts were no longer mine. Instead, they belonged to all of my doubts and troubles, rising to the surface to take hold of everything else. Tears started to sting my eyes, and my throat began to close up as I choked back a small sob.
“I don’t think I’m good enough,” I whispered.
Something truly frightening flashed across Peter’s expression. He looked as though he’d been stabbed straight through the heart. His brows furrowed, his gorgeous lips pressed together into a thin line, and he looked to be holding his breath. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or if he was hurt. I was too lightheaded and upset to read his expression properly. Did I say something wrong? Had I made a fool of myself? Why wasn’t Peter saying anything?
My concerns melted away the second his lips met mine.
Peter cupped my face gently, leaning in the rest of the way to kiss me. He was a lot gentler than I expected, handling me with so much care I thought for sure I was going to break. The warmth of his skin on mine, the taste of his lips left me feeling safer than I had in years. His familiar scent of sandalwood lulled me into a state of comfort. The last thing I remembered before closing my eyes and passing out was the sweet smile Peter wore as he pulled away.
16
David
I
was more than a little livid when Peter walked in through my front door with Rachel cradled in her arms. My whole world turned upside down when I saw her. My first thought was that she was hurt. My second thought was that Peter better get his stupid hands off of her or I’d kick his ass. The second thought I had was that no, Rachel was perfectly fine. As it turned out, she was only sleeping. But the scent of alcohol drifting off of her and the rosiness of her cheeks had my blood boiling all over again.
“What the fuck?” I snapped, jumping off of the couch to take Rachel.
Peter, that asshole, refused to give her to me. “Where is her bedroom? I’ll put her down.”
“I’ll put her down. You need to leave.”
The posh millionaire shot me an unconvinced glare. “I can handle it.”
“What the hell happened? Did you force her to drink? I swear to God, if you forced her to drink, I’ll–”
Peter outright ignored me, crossing through the living room like he owned the damn place. He tread down the hall with Rachel in her arms. A bitter taste coated my tongue. I didn’t like that he was touching her. I didn’t like that Rachel was passed out in his arms. I didn’t like anything about this situation because I had no idea what was going on or what was going to happen next. I followed them both to Rachel’s room to make sure he wasn’t up to any funny business.
Peter glanced at me over his shoulder. “Pull the covers back,” he ordered.
I was about to snap at him and tell him to do it his damn self, but I wanted to take care of Rachel first. Begrudgingly, I did as he asked, all the while telling myself that this was for Rachel’s wellbeing. He lay her down on the bed on her side while I pulled the covers over her. Once we were sure Rachel was down and out for the night, Peter and I retreated quietly back out into the hallway and closed her bedroom door.
I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pushed him against the wall, hissing through clenched teeth, “Talk. Now.”
The asshole put his hands up in mock surrender and dared to give me a little smile. “She had a little too much to drink at dinner.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you look out for her?”
“I was,” he stated coldly. “I thought she could handle it. Everybody was drinking.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s a terrible excuse.”
“She’ll be fine. She just needs to sleep it off.”
He pushed right past me, easily moving me out of the way like I weighed nothing. This only angered me further, the fire that was burning in my stomach now an untamable inferno. I ran after him, cutting him off in the living room.
“What just a damn moment, I–”
Peter swiftly brought a finger to his lips and shushed me. “Quiet. You don’t want to wake her, do you?”
I clenched my jaw so tight I heard my molars squeaking against one another. The sound echoed through my skull and sent an awful little shiver snaking down my spine. “You’re a son of a bitch, you know that?”
Peter smirked at me. “You really care about her.”
“Of course, I do. She’s like a sister to me.”
He clicked his tongue. The sound only served to annoy me further. “No.”
“What the fuck do you mean, ‘no?’”
“You like her. More than a sister. I think you’re in love.”
My nostrils flared as my heart thumped against my ribcage. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t– I’m not– What’s it to you?”
Peter released a low chuckle. “It matters to me that I know my competition.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked over to the door and pulled it open. “Have a good night, David,” he chuckled as he exited the apartment.
I stood there for a good couple of minutes, confused out of my mind. Everything had happened so quickly that information was still processing in my brain. Did Peter just call me his competition? Did he have feelings for Rachel, too? If that was the case, there was no way I was going to let this rich bastard sweep her off her feet and take her away. She deserved better than some chauvinistic ass.
I was pulled from my spiral of thoughts when I heard a loud thump sound from Rachel’s room. I raced back down the hall to check on her, opening the door just in time to see her getting up onto her hands and knees. I flicked the lights on, which probably wasn’t the best idea, because Rachel squinted painfully as her eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.
“Ugh,” she groaned. “What the hell? How’d I get here?”
I knelt down beside her and placed my hand on her back, providing her the support she so clearly needed. “You’re home,” I said calmly. “Peter just brought you back. Here, let’s get you cleaned up a bit.” Rachel shakily placed her hand in mine, and that was when I saw it.
There was a massive diamond ring wrapped around her finger. It was so dazzling and as big as a fist that I was scared I’d go blind if I stared at it too long. My eyes widened in a combination of shock and horror. “What the– Is that what I think it is? That better be one realistic-ass candy ring or something.”
Rachel pulled her hands close to her chest like she’d been burned by hot metal. She tried hiding the ring beneath the palm of her other hand. “It’s nothing,” she dismissed. “Don’t worry about it. Oh, God. I think. I’m going to hurl.”
“Tell me what’s going on. Who gave that to you?”
“Peter did.” Her words melted into one another, an obvious sign that she was still coming down from her drunken state.
“What? When? Why? Huh?”
“Peter’s mom is an awful person.”
“I mean, she raised the guy, so I don’t doubt it.”
Rachel swallowed and shook her head. “We faked an engagement to get her off his back.”
I had never known fury until that night. “He’s using you,” I spat. “I’m going to kill him.”
She started to shake her head so furiously I thought she’d make herself sick. I placed my hands on her shoulders and attempted to brush her hair from out of her eyes. “Please, don’t,” she hiccupped. “Everything’s fine.”
“Ray, don’t you have any idea how messed up this is?”
“I… I know.”
“You do? Or are you just saying that to shut me up?”
“I know this is messed up. But just take a step back and think for a bit. He’s paying me a lot of money to pretend to be engaged. None of it’s real.” Her cheeks flushed bright pink. “At least, I think so. But anyways, that doesn’t matter. I’ll be able to take care of the both of us for an entire year with what I earn.”
I swallowed at the dry patch in my throat. My stomach had twisted itself into a million little knots, using my guts to string itself up in impossible ways. “You’re doing this for us?”
She patted me on the cheek. “You’re my little brother. It’s my job to look out for you.”
I couldn’t find the right words to say. A terrifying disappointment washed over me, flooding my mind, my lungs, my very veins. Rachel didn’t think of me any other way than a sibling, while I was here, stuck pining after her since we first met in the system. She didn’t look at me the same way she looked at Peter. She didn’t talk to me the way she did to him. Maybe Peter was wrong.
There was no competition to be had in the first place.
I sighed and bit back at the urge to scream, to cry, to pretty much crumble up into a ball and lie there on the floor with Rachel. I helped her get back into bed, my still reeling from all the harsh truths I’d learned that evening.
17
Rachel
M
y head was killing me.
I vowed never again to allow liquor to pass my lips. I was getting too old to drink that much and come away the next day without a hangover. My temples were pulsing with every heartbeat, the morning birds chirping outside the office building were far too loud, and the fluorescent lights of Peter’s office were close in their goal of blinding me. The worst part?
I remembered everything.
I remembered Peter kissing me in the back of the limo. I remembered the way he looked at me with such adoration and warmth in his eyes. I remembered him playing with my hair and breathing me in and carrying me all the way back to my apartment. I remembered him putting me in bed, and me stumbling out a couple minutes later with the foolish thought of being able to catch him.
I had so many questions. Why did he kiss me? Did he mean anything by it, or was he just playing with me? I really wanted to know, but I was too afraid to ask. I had half a mind to call in sick just so I could avoid any awkward conversations that were in store for me, but I knew how important I was to Peter’s day to day business. Without me, he’d be lost. I organized everything, took care of every minor detail –from his lunch delivery every day at noon sharp to picking up his dry cleaning so he’d have a fresh suit to wear for the day’s important business meetings. I couldn’t just let him flounder and drown all on his own. That was when it occurred to me. It wasn’t that I couldn’t abandon him.
I didn’t want to.
Peter came in at six in the morning on the dot, just as he had every day that I’d been working for him. He was dressed in his usual ensemble of a crisp white button-down, tucked neatly beneath the waistband and belt of his pressed black pants. His sleeves were rolled up three-quarters of the way today, exposing his strong forearms. In an odd turn of events, he wasn’t wearing his tie like usual, and had instead unbuttoned the top to buttons of his shirt. My eyes swept over his thick neck and defined clavicles, the skin beneath looking stupidly soft. I felt my eyes burning, not because of my awful hangover, but because I’d been staring so long that my eyes were starting to dry out.
I walked in with his schedule for the day, printed out on a piece of loose leaf as I always did. Today, there was something different in the air. He smiled at me the second he laid eyes on me, watching me as I walked over. He looked sincerely happy to see me. Normally, he’d just keep his head down and focus on his work, barking orders at me to either fetch him a coffee or make some photocopies for him. His attention, as nice as it was, felt electric and overwhelming for someone in my potentially-still-drunk state.
“Good morning, Rachel,” he said. His voice was like running my hands over smooth velvet.
“G-good morning,” I stuttered, placing his schedule down on his desk. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”
“I’m alright, thank you.”
“O-okay. Good. I mean, I’m glad.”
“Rachel?”
“Yes?”
“Are you feeling alright?”
“Yes, of course. Why do you ask?”
“You’re blushing.”
I brought a hand up in a hurry to touch my cheeks. I giggled nervously. “Oh, am I? It’s just a little hot in here, I think.”
“The AC’s on.”
I broke out into a full-on nervous laugh. “I don’t know, then. Maybe it’s hot flashes. No, wait. Ignore what I just said. I’m going to go now, okay?” I left in a hurry, almost shattering the glass doors to the office by swinging it a little too hard behind me. I was one hundred percent certain that Peter was laughing as I left.
I returned to my desk and tried to calm down, making a conscious effort to breathe in slowly through the nose and out through the mouth. I told myself that I was being silly. It was just one kiss. How did Peter manage to reduce me into a bumbling little pile of nerves with just a kiss? How was this fair? How was I going to make it through the day without making myself out to be a total idiot? I wasn’t the type of girl to swoon or fall head over heels in love. I always thought I was independent and strong.
But damn was it a good kiss. Peter treated me so gently that his lips barely grazed mine. As I sat there, checking and rechecking my email for messages I knew weren’t going to come, my mind wandered all on its own. I wanted to know what it felt like to have his tongue glossing over mine. I wanted to get high off the scent of his cologne. I wanted to know what it was like to have his weight against me, to feel his rippling muscles beneath my fingertips. I’d managed to last six months without thinking lewd thoughts about my boss, and in a single night, my internal strength had been completely shattered.
I cleared my throat and tried to get to work. Maybe if I pretended nothing happened, everything would go back to normal. I could use being drunk last night as an excuse for not remembering. Peter would probably buy that, right? It was just a kiss and we didn’t need to make a big deal out of it. I was just his pretend fiancée and full-time personal assistant. Why complicate things with feelings or whatever the hell it was that brought us together yesterday? This was all getting too much for me to handle. I just needed to focus on work.
Surely that had to be the answer to all my problems.
18
Peter
I
suddenly realized that we had a problem.
It was all well and good to say that Rachel was my fiancée, but it was going to be obvious to everyone that something was amiss when they realized she wasn’t actually living with me. Knowing Mother, she was probably already snooping around the find faults in our story. All she had to do was go up to my building’s doorman, flash a picture of Rachel, and ask if he’d seen her around. When the inevitable answer came out as no, Mother would know I was lying. I needed to stay ahead of t
his if I was going to keep any semblance of a private life. Well, as private as it could get considering who I was.
Thankfully, my workload was rather light. My lack of meetings and business emails that I had to reply to meant I could actually spend some time thinking. It was rare to get an hour or two all to myself, so a whole day was a real treat. I spend the majority of the day devising a plan, working up the courage to ask Rachel to come into my office to discuss our options. She was avoiding me, that much was obvious. She was pretending like nothing happened, like I didn’t kiss her. I didn’t know what to make of it. It was the first time in my life a woman had gone out of their way to not be with me. But that fact and that fact alone just made me want her more.
I had a taste, a sample. Now, I really wanted to explore the whole buffet.
I didn’t think I’d be as nervous as I was when I kissed her. My heart had been railing inside my chest in the seconds leading to the kiss. I was a confident man in all aspects of my life, so I couldn’t understand why I was so worried about screwing things up with Rachel. A million disastrous scenarios played out in my head before I kissed. I thought that I’d slip and kiss her nose instead. Or maybe she’d snap to and push me away. I had to admit that I felt a little guilty. I would have much rather kissed her while she was completely sober. The last thing I wanted was to overstep her boundaries –more so than I already had asking her to be my pretend fiancée and all.
By the time I mustered up enough courage to talk to her, the work day was long over. I’d stayed well past closing to file some paperwork, which meant Rachel was still at her desk in case I needed her. She looked to be keeping busy, typing away rapidly at her computer. But it was impossible to ignore her sheepish glances at me, or the way she tried to hide her cute little smile whenever our eyes crossed paths. The rest of the office had long since gone home, so it was just her and me on the darkened floor. Outside, the silver glow of the moon shone through the office windows, painting everything a wash of soft white.
