Love Triangle: Six Books of Torn Desire

by Willow Winters

  I listen to Vail on repeat, luxuriating in the sound of his voice as I let it wash over me, as I touch myself while I think of him, as I imagine it’s his fingers touching me again, his hands on my body.

  Thank God it’s almost summer, because I can’t focus. Today was our first day of final exams. Tomorrow is our last day. Grades are due Wednesday, and then it’s summer break for two and a half months.

  “How was Vail?” Tess asks.

  “Awesome,” I say, giving her two cheesy thumbs up as I look at the desk in front of me so she doesn’t notice the sudden water in my eyes.

  “And how hot was Mark Ashton?”

  I swoon a little. Hotter than you can even imagine.

  A small part of me wants to tell her what happened with Mark, but another part of me likes having a secret. As much as I love Tess, I want to keep this to myself. She isn’t the most reserved person in the world, and I have a feeling if I tell her what I did, everyone in a ten-mile radius will know.

  “The hottest ever,” I say.

  “God, I love him. What I wouldn’t give for one night with him.”

  My heart skips a beat. This is my chance to confess, but I don’t say anything.

  She sighs dreamily. “I wish I could’ve gone to the show with you guys.”

  “How was the family dinner?” I ask.

  She rolls her eyes. “About as lame as you’d expect.”

  Her aunt and uncle were in town visiting, and she got stuck going to dinner instead of joining Jill and me at the concert. I can’t help but wonder if Mark would’ve chosen her over me if she’d been with us.

  It doesn’t matter. Thinking about it doesn’t change what happened, doesn’t change the fact that she’s with him as much as I am right now.

  I make a face at Tess as Kathryn passes the papers to my row. Our destinies are listed in black and white. Each teacher in the department gets one local company who we’re assigned to basically beg for money to help fund our big charity event in the fall.

  “What did you get?” I ask Tess as soon as we both have a paper in front of us.

  She scans the paper. “Yes!” She pumps her fist in the air in victory. “Dairy Queen.”

  “Lucky.” They’re a guaranteed donation, plus she gets ice cream.

  “What did you get?” she asks.

  My brows draw in. “FDB Tech Corp.” I say it with a hint of a question at the end because I’ve never heard of them.

  Tess screws her face up. “Never heard of them.”

  “Me either.” The sooner I make my appointment, the sooner I get this hideous task off my plate. Seriously, I didn’t know when I went to school to become a high school English teacher that there’d be so many other tasks that came with the territory.

  When I arrive home, Jill’s already there, sitting on the couch with her laptop as she researches something for an article.

  “How’s the future Mrs. Ashton?” she asks, setting her laptop beside her and stretching out her legs.

  “Stop,” I scold, drawing out the ahhh sound in the word. “I already told you, it was a one and done. Talking about it just depresses me.” I change the subject quickly. “I have to call this new company to schedule an appointment so I can beg for donations.”

  “What company?”

  “FDB Tech Corp.”

  She nods and picks her laptop back up. “I’ve heard of them. Apparently, these three super hot guys left their old company in Chicago to start their own. Molly did an article on them a month or so ago, but I think they just cut the ribbon last week.” She taps some keys then scrolls her laptop. “Yep. Last Thursday was their official opening.”

  “What do they do?” I sit on the couch next to her.

  “Julie’s article says they sell solutions.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  She scans the article a little more. “It says they’re involved in predictive analytics and they’re looking to hire consultants.”

  “I understand about half the words you just said.”

  She shrugs. “Ask while you’re there.”

  I stand to leave the room when I hear her voice. It’s quiet and gentle.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with the whole Mark Ashton thing?”

  I shrug. “It is what it is. Or, rather, it was what it was. One amazing night, and I’m sure I’ll get over it at some point.”

  I can still feel his cashmere blanket wrapped around my arms when I think hard enough, can still feel his tongue brushing against mine. The image of his fingertips running along my thigh flashes through my mind. It’s only been two days. Surely this anguish will fade in time. “Thanks for asking.”

  * * *

  I feel underdressed in jeans and my DLHS shirt as I arrive at the FDB Tech Corp headquarters the next afternoon after a half day of final exams. Their business spans the entire twelfth floor of a building two blocks off the Strip.

  The black metal and glass structure in front of me is intimidating. The big Ferris wheel behind one of the hotels is just a couple of blocks over, huge in my view at the moment. I think of all the tourists who come through this town to party, gamble, or tuck singles into strippers’ G-strings, but to me, it’s home.

  A petite and pretty blonde sits behind the desk in a professional black business outfit in front of me when the elevator doors open. The office has that new-office smell—recently dried paint on the light gray walls and new plush, black and gray weave carpeting, but there’s something else in the air. Something coconutty, almost like sunscreen but nicer.

  The blonde looks up and smiles warmly. “Hi there. Can I help you?”

  “Yes, I have a one-thirty appointment with Mr. Fox.”

  She glances at her screen. “Reese Brady?”

  “That’s me.”

  She smiles. “Great. Have a seat and someone will be up shortly to escort you back. Can I get you some water?”

  “That would be great,” I say, and she hands me a bottle before I sit. It’s swanky in here with the gray and black theme. A few people walk down a hallway to my right, and even they match the décor in their black business attire. I feel even more underdressed than I did back in the parking lot.

  A gorgeous, intimidating woman with wavy brown hair steps around the corner. She’s wearing a tight, black dress, and even though she comes across as incredibly professional, she looks ready for a night out in Vegas, like she can just leave straight from work to head to the next party. Her shrewd, brown eyes land on me, and she doesn’t mask her disdain as she takes in my blue jeans and t-shirt. “Reese Brady?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

  I stand and smile awkwardly as I wonder if this woman has ever felt awkward in her entire life. “That’s me.”

  “Follow me.”

  She leads me to one of the corner offices, her heels somehow clicking on the plushy carpet as I follow behind in my much more comfortable Converse. An empty desk that I assume is hers sits just in front of the office. The plaque outside the door reads Brian Fox.

  I stand behind her as she steps into the doorway of his office. “Mr. Fox, Reese Brady is here to see you.”

  “Thanks, Kelsey.” His voice is deep, and before I even see the man himself, I can tell just from that deep timbre that he’s going to be gorgeous. “Send her in.”

  She steps aside, and my eyes fall onto the man sitting behind the black desk.

  I was right. He’s gorgeous.

  But it’s not just that.

  I recognize him.

  It’s the man who helped me pick up everything that fell out of my purse the morning I escaped Mark Ashton’s place. I stop dead in my tracks and have the sudden urge to run back out the door. How the hell am I supposed to beg this man for money?

  His dark hair is almost black and his eyes are such a piercing green that he’s almost looking through me. His gaze pins me to my spot in the doorway. He’s sitting behind his desk, a meticulously organized mass of paperwork, folders, and office supplies. He wears a navy suit,
and my eyes travel up the crisp, clean lines of his jacket and catch on the glinting silver tie tack holding his matching navy tie in place.

  Navy, I muse. Interesting considering everything else I’ve seen in this office is black, white, or gray. It’s like he purposely chose to stand out, but he’s got this imposing presence about him that would allow him to stand out either way. He owns the room and everything in it just because he’s there.

  From the way his eyes land on me, it’s clear he remembers me, too, and my mouth dries. I’m beyond grateful for the water the receptionist gave me. I unscrew the cap and tip it to my mouth to moisten my lips just as the woman who led me back here turns around and bumps into me.

  Water splashes out of the bottle and onto my purple DLHS shirt.

  The woman glares at me and smirks as she watches a small water stain start to spread over my chest. She’s definitely laughing at me without actually laughing at me—enough so I know, but not enough so her boss knows. She leaves the office before he can see her wide grin at my expense.

  I draw in a shaky breath as heat creeps into my cheeks. I haven’t been this affected by a man since…well, since I met a rock star. Except for that one event that almost seems like a dream, I don’t think I’ve ever been affected like this.

  I shake my head to clear it as I wipe at the water spot on my chest. It probably looks like I’m feeling myself up, but I’m just trying to get my shirt to dry faster. It’s not working.

  “Come on in,” he says, his lips tipping up in that same cocky smile I remember from outside the elevator as his eyes connect with mine. He stands and extends an arm. “Brian Fox,” he says, and I reach out to shake his hand. His eyes dart down to the little water spot right over my boob.

  “Reese Brady,” I say, smiling nervously. My voice squeaks as our hands connect, so I clear my throat and drop his hand before I sit in one of the chairs facing his desk.

  “You know, Reese, I have to admit, I’ve thought about you several times since you literally ran into me. Sometimes I think of you as the elevator girl, or sometimes as the Mandarin girl. But, sadly for me, it’s always the girl who got away.”

  My cheeks flush, but before I can respond, he says lightly, “It’s nice to see you with a smile this time.”

  I cover half my face with my hand. “I’m mortified about the other morning,” I say.

  He chuckles and waves a dismissive hand through the air. “Don’t be. We’ve all had bad mornings.”

  “Thank you,” I say, sure there must be a more socially appropriate response that’s currently absent from my brain.

  He levels his gaze on me for a few beats, and I half expect him to ask me why I was crying or what I was doing at the Mandarin Oriental early on a Sunday morning. He doesn’t, though. Instead, he clears his throat and asks, “What can I do for you today?”

  His eyes penetrate me, and I avert my gaze to the window, drinking in the familiar view of the Strip. It centers me, calms me. This is my home turf. I’ve got this. I force myself to look at him—a big mistake considering those handsome eyes are still pinned on me.

  “I’m here on behalf of Desert Lights High School.” My voice is shaky, but once I start the speech I’ve given in prior years to other companies, I’m sure it’ll calm.

  “The appointment on my schedule said something about a fundraiser for the high school?”

  “Yes,” I say, getting to the point of why I’m here. I focus on the matter at hand and ignore how hot he is, how much he unnerves me. “Every fall, we host a fundraiser and we ask local businesses for donations. It’s a huge event in our community and it takes place over Homecoming weekend.” I pull this year’s brochure out of my purse and slide it across his desk. Our fingers brush in the process, and the desire that fell asleep in my body as I left Mark’s place seems to awaken. I draw in a breath. It’s just an attraction. This man is gorgeous and he’s distracting me from why I’m here.

  “You can look through the brochure from this year’s event. The weekend includes things like a parade and a formal ball for the adults with a silent auction. Any donation is helpful. Some companies choose to donate an auction item, others give a monetary donation.” I point to the brochure. “You can see the different tiers of thanks we offer depending on donations. Most companies like seeing their logo on our event t-shirts or on a banner in the football stadium. We also display our biggest donors on a plaque in the gym. Is this something you might be interested in?”

  I think I might be beaming with pride that I managed to get that entire speech out of my mouth without sounding like a complete and total idiot.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Great. I’m happy to give you a form my principal drafted up and you can get back to me with your exact donation, or I can—”

  He interrupts me. “Ten thousand.”

  “What?” I ask, positive I misheard him.

  “Ten thousand dollars.” He flashes that same cocky smile at me again. “With conditions, of course.”

  “What?” I repeat stupidly, my jaw hanging open.

  “We’ve been looking for a charitable cause in Vegas, and I know there are lots of opportunities, but you’re the first person who didn’t just send a form email asking for money.”

  “Ten…ten thou…My God. Ten thousand?” I’m stuttering like a fool, but I think I may be in shock. I cough and clear my throat. “Are…are you sure?”

  He nods. “Yes.”

  “What are the conditions?”

  “Dinner. Tomorrow night.”

  “I’d be happy to send something to your home.” Shit, for a donation that size, I suppose I can spare a few dollars to send a pizza or something.

  He chuckles. “That’s cute. I meant dinner with you.”

  My mouth forms a surprised O. I inhale in a sharp breath. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr. Fox.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Why not?” He seems like one of those guys who is used to getting his way.

  “Wouldn’t it be a conflict of interest?”

  He shrugs. “I’m not giving you the money. I’m giving it to your school.”

  “Still, I don’t think so. But I appreciate the offer.”

  He busies himself by picking up a folder from his desk. “Sorry we couldn’t reach an agreement,” he says, swinging the folder open and focusing on the papers inside instead of me. “Kelsey should be at her desk just outside my door. She can show you out.”

  “So that’s it? I won’t go to dinner with you so you’re just going to pull your offer?”

  He looks up at me and maintains his composure. “I told you it had conditions.”

  “I’m not here to whore myself out.” The inappropriate words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. All I can think of is the fact that this man knows I keep condoms in my purse.

  His eyebrows shoot up. “I didn’t ask you to. I simply asked you to dinner.”

  It’s possible I’m overreacting. “I apologize. You’re right. I’m just, uh, not available.”

  “Meaning you have plans tomorrow night?” Brian asks. “Or meaning you’re in a relationship?”

  I clear my throat. “Neither. I’m just not looking to get involved right now.”

  “It’s just a dinner.” He picks up a pen and twirls it around in his fingers. “I didn’t even call it a date, and you already denied me once when you wouldn’t allow me to buy you a cup of coffee over the weekend.”

  I can’t tell if he’s being a jerk or if he’s swaying me toward agreeing to go to dinner with him. My brain wanders to what he might be hiding under that navy suit as I lean toward the latter. “Aside from dinner, what other conditions do you have in mind?” I ask.

  He thinks for a minute, and then he levels his gaze at me. “That’s it.”

  “So, if I agree to go to dinner with you tomorrow night, you’ll donate ten grand to my school?”

  He sticks out his bottom lip and pretends to think deeply for a second. “That about sums it up.”


  “You think one dinner with me is worth ten grand?”

  “You don’t?”

  “I’ve never thought about putting a price on it, to be honest.” I close my eyes and rub my forehead. “Where and when?” I finally ask, not because I think this is a good idea, but because ten thousand dollars would go a long way.

  He feigns shock. “You’re agreeing to go?”

  I shrug. “My school could use that kind of money. Plus, you wore me down.”

  “You’re funny, Reese,” he says with a laugh. “I like you.”

  I feel that all too familiar heat climbing into my cheeks, and I don’t know what to say. He’s so handsome sitting there behind his desk—and not just handsome, but powerful—ready to conquer the business world.

  I’m saved from having to reply to his flirtations by his cell phone buzzing. He glances down at the screen. “I have to take this. Leave your number with Kelsey and I’ll text you the details for tomorrow.”

  I nod and stand.

  He answers his phone with his eyes on me. “Brian Fox.”

  I leave his office as shudders run through my spine, give his bitchy secretary my number with a fake smile, and go home to stupidly wait for his text.

  Chapter Five

  Unknown Number: I have a reservation for eight o’clock at Brasserie inside Caesar’s. Text me your address and I’ll come pick you up.

  Me: Who is this?

  Brian: You know who this is.

  Me: Do I?

  Brian: It’s the one paying ten grand for a dinner with you. Also the one who can name just about every item you carry in your purse.

  Me: I thought the money wasn’t for me.

  Brian: Right. Conflict of interest.

  Me: I mean, if you want to make the check out to me, I wouldn’t say no.

  Brian: How about dinner first? I still need your address.

  Me: I’ll meet you there.

  Brian: See you at eight.

  I don’t reply as I picture his cocky grin in my head. Instead, I yell, “Jill!” from my bed. She appears in my doorway.