“Wow, these are awesome,” I said, moving up to get a closer look. The figurines were not more than an inch tall, made of pewter and each painted in great detail, sometimes even with coats of arms on the shields and delicately rendered facial features, which must have required painstaking hours to depict. “You must have hundreds of these here.”
“We don’t use them anymore. Adam never plays D and D like he used to in high school.”
“Oh, these are for Dungeons and Dragons? I’ve never played.”
“We used to play all the time. A big group of us. Adam was the GM.” Huh. Adam had been the Game Master. Why didn’t it surprise me to find that out? The Game Master was the one who controlled the story and the game environment for the other players, moving their characters within that world. With his penchant for control, I was not surprised that Adam played that role in his group of friends.
“And you painted all the figurines?”
“I paint for my job, too. I work in the art department for Dragon Epoch.”
I took a seat across from him, following his delicate movement. He was painting a female sorceress with flowing purple robes covered in golden symbols. “So you must get to see Adam all the time, then, if you work with him.”
He glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes but kept working, his head tilted down. “No, hardly ever. I barely see him at all anymore.”
I paused, reflecting on that. Especially since this was the first time in our entire conversation that William had shown an emotion—regret. I watched him as he quietly continued his work. He looked sad, lonely. He missed his cousin, who had likely been one of his closest friends—and yet they worked in the same building every day! What did that say about Adam? Why employ a cousin, someone who was once a good friend, and then never spend time with him?
It was true Adam’s work kept him immensely busy, but I was certain he could manage thirty minutes to sit with William over lunch once a week.
I decided to change the subject. “I play DE. Did you design anything I know?”
“I’m a colorist. I fill in the color on other peoples’ designs.”
“So did you work on any designs I’d know?”
“Probably,” he said and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Don’t tell her any game secrets, Liam. She’ll try to weasel anything she can out of you,” came a dry voice from the doorway and I turned to Adam, who stood watching us.
William didn’t even look up when his cousin spoke. He just shrugged. “I don’t know any.”
Adam came into the room and walked up behind his cousin to look at what he was doing. “Oh, I remember her. Didn’t you have her wearing yellow before?”
“Different figure,” William grunted.
“So, Adam, I heard you used to be a GM for Dungeons and Dragons.”
He glanced at the shelf above William’s head. “Yeah, a long time ago. Liam likes to keep painting the figurines even though we haven’t played in almost a decade.”
“He does an awesome job. Maybe you guys should play again sometime.” Adam shot me a curious look but said nothing. I could interpret the expression, though. It said something along the lines of: Like I have the time for that?
We were called to dinner and ate on the back patio around a gorgeous pool. Britt regaled me with more funny stories from Adam’s adolescence while he bore the usual brand of family humiliation stoically.
DJ, however, brought up a blush on both of our faces when he asked Adam if he’d kissed me yet. Britt shooed him away before Adam could answer.
I offered to help with the dishes and Adam collected them for me, standing at my shoulder to rinse and dry after I’d washed. We didn’t talk much. I was at a loss for what to say. The questions swirled in my mind and knotted at the base of my throat in tight confusion. Why had Adam brought me here? Why risk introducing me to his entire family when he knew damn well I would never be in his life after our contract had been fulfilled? They were a delightful family and I was glad to know he’d had some happiness after the heartbreaks of his childhood.
When we were saying our good-byes, about to walk out the door, William stopped me and placed a small object in my hand. It was one of the figurines I had been admiring earlier. “Adam says you play a Spiritual Enchantress in DE. I thought you might like this,” he said, his eyes never meeting mine.
I looked down at the figure in the dim light and sure enough, it was a non-scantily-clad sorceress waving a huge staff above her head while preparing to conjure a spell. She had long black hair and a red cloak that billowed about her. She was intricately rendered, a tiny work of art.
“Thank you, William. It’s perfect.”
Adam wrapped his hand around mine and we bid everyone good-bye as he pulled me to his car.
Back at my house, after a mostly quiet ride home, he walked me to my door. We stood on the doorstep and he looked into my eyes. “Thanks for coming with me tonight, Emilia,” he said.
“I had fun. But…” I shook my head. He tilted his head toward me, asking the question without speaking it, so I responded. “Why would you introduce me to your family? Won’t they wonder what happened, when we finally…?”
His eyes fixed on mine, serious, sincere. “Because you asked me and I wanted to show you.”
“Asked you what?”
“You asked me who I love. They’re who I love.”
He bent and kissed my cheek and stood at the doorstep while I let myself in and turned on my lights, then he faded into the darkness. That ache in my base of my throat was rising again. I was simultaneously dreading and anticipating the next time he’d call me. Because I knew between now and then he would never be far from my thoughts. I’d think about him while doing my drudge tasks at work. I’d think about him while writing my blog. I’d think about him while running errands, cleaning the house. And I’d worry. I’d worry about how I’d pick up the pieces when it was all over.
Chapter Nine
Monday night was group study night at Jon’s. Given the weekend I’d had, I was woefully unprepared for this week’s subject: acid derivatives. I almost called to claim a sore throat, but I had to go in to work at midnight anyway and figured I might as well use the humiliation of being unprepared as a motivator to study harder for next time. As if failing the entire thing the first time hadn’t been mortification enough. Some people are gluttons for punishment. It seemed I was a glutton for humiliation.
When I got there, however, I was in for a surprise. It was only Jon. The other three had canceled for various reasons and he’d decided to go through with it because he really needed to catch up. We cracked our books and got to work.
I should have known that things were going to get weird when Jon opened a bottle of wine and sat a little too close to me on the couch instead of across from me. I was filling out index cards with important vocabulary terms and he seemed fidgety and nervous.
“You getting nervous about the exam?” I asked, without looking up from my cards.
He shrugged. “Nah. I think I have it in the bag.”
I took a deep breath and released it, remembering that feeling of utter confidence last year, when I’d gone in to take it for the first time. Since then, I could have taken it a dozen times over to improve the score but I’d kept putting it off, certain I was unprepared and unwilling to face that defeat again if I was right.
I murmured. “I wish I was as confident.”
“You’ll do great. You’re so smart.”
I didn’t respond. Jon was unaware of my previous failure, as I’d only told people I didn’t attend school with—my close real-life friends like Heath, Alex and Jenna, and my BFFs online, Fallen and Persephone. I couldn’t think about this tonight. Couldn’t dwell on it. I grabbed the glass of wine he had poured and sipped it, distracted.
As always, my thoughts were a jumbled, preoccupied mess. Every time I tried to pull them on track, some fleeting thought of Adam or memory from the weekend would knock them off again.
I also kept dwelling on Heath’s words from the day before—his accusations regarding Adam’s nefarious purposes. Was Heath right? Was Adam manipulating me? I puzzled over that, wondering what benefit it could possibly be to him. Adam was acting like we were dating but he knew damn well I didn’t date—and neither did he. Did he get off on having me under his thumb? Was this his own peculiar brand of kink?
Our deal remained unfulfilled. That first night in Amsterdam hadn’t been his fault. His job had interfered. And Friday, the yacht had been out for repairs—or so he’d said.
The more I ruminated, the more wine I drank. And that little creep Jon must have silently been refilling my cup because when I looked up, the bottle was empty. I’d never even asked for a refill. My note cards were now swimming in front of me.
“Whoa…that wasn’t a good idea,” I said.
“What?” Jon said, looking up from his study manual.
“The wine.”
He squinted at the bottle. “Shit, we polished off the second bottle already.”
I checked the time on my phone. “Yeah, and now I’m feeling pretty messed up. I’m no good for studying. I have work in three hours.”
He set his book aside. “You can’t drive home. You should stay here.”
“How much did you drink? Can’t you take me home? I’ll come get my car tomorrow morning.”
“I’m not going anywhere for a couple hours. Why don’t you just have a nap on the couch? I’ll grab a pillow.”
There was no way I was staying over here, especially in this condition. Jon seemed like a nice guy, but I didn’t know him that well and he’d been after me to go out with him for months. And now, he was tipsy. He seemed nice, but lots of people did until they got a few in them. Even with the wine goggles on, I suspected a convenient setup.
“I think I’m going to go.”
He took my hand in his while I was trying to shove index cards into my backpack. “Stay, Mia. Really. It’s okay. Call in sick and crash on my couch.”
I shook my head. “I’m not comfortable with that.” I stuffed the rest of my things into my bag and wobbled to my feet.
My head spun and he took me by the arm as if to hold me back. “Come on, you can’t drive.”
“I’m gonna call Heath to come get me. I’m fine. Thanks, Jon.”
I yanked my arm from his hold and teetered out the door, strode down the sidewalk and got in my car while he watched from the doorway of his apartment.
I fumbled for my cell, opened my contacts and pressed Heath’s number, thankful that he’d put in the information the day before. He’d be pissed, of course, but I knew he’d come. That’s what best friends were for.
The phone rang twice before he answered. “Heath, I need your help.”
“Emilia? Are you all right?” Adam. Shit. I’d dialed the wrong number. Two contacts on this phone…two damn contacts and I’d picked the wrong one! I was drunker than I thought.
“Uh. Hi…”
“What’s wrong?”
“I thought I was calling Heath and I got you by accident.”
A pause. “Are you drunk?”
Shit. “No. Of course not. I was just studying—he had wine and so I drank some and didn’t realize I was drinking so much ’cause he kept filling up the glass.” Realizing I was blathering, I sat back and sighed. “He’s gonna come get me and take me home. Heath, I mean.”
“Where are you? I’ll come get you.”
“No.”
“Emilia, tell me where you are.”
“I’m in Orange. It’s too far for you.”
“I have a fast car. Open up the GPS app and send me your location. Can you do that?”
I hadn’t used that app yet. “Is it easy to figure out?”
“I’ll talk you through it.” And he explained how to do it.
“Don’t you dare start that car, Mia,” he said, clicking off. I frowned, wondering how I’d gotten into this situation, when I heard a loud knock on my window and I jumped.
Jon stood there, gesturing for me to open my door. Instead I rolled down the window. “I’m sorry, Mia. I had no idea you’d drink so much.”
I blinked, the world spinning a little bit. “You’re the one who kept refilling my glass.”
“Come inside. Seriously, you can sleep it off in there.”
“Uh uh, sorry.” Then I swallowed. “I’m gonna be sick.”
“Mia, stop being stupid and come in. I’m sorry. Just come inside.”
“I said no, Jon. No means no.” I cranked up the window.
He disappeared and then reappeared a few minutes later, trying to talk to me through the window but I ignored him. I tapped my foot and checked the clock on my dashboard, wondering how long it would take Adam and his fast car to get here.
My insides clenched, sending the age-old warning that they were about to rebel. Nausea burned up my esophagus. I wasn’t that drunk, but I hadn’t eaten much all day and the wine was irritating the hell out of my stomach. I stumbled out of the car and over to the gutter, doubling over. I heaved a couple times but managed to keep the contents of my stomach—although at this point, getting rid of it all might have made me feel better.
As soon as I straightened up, Jon was beside me again. He had a couple books in his hand, holding them out to me. “I’m super sorry, Mia. I feel bad. You want to borrow a couple of my books to help you catch up?”
I eyed the books. They were expensive study aids that I couldn’t afford. They’d be useful. They swam in my unsteady vision and I reached out for them and managed to grab one of them, but he pulled the rest aside. “Let me put them in the car. And then come in and I’ll fix you some coffee.”
“No—I’m good. I’m getting a ride.”
He took me by the arm. “Come on. I don’t want you to try to drive home.”
I pulled back against his hold. “I’m not going to. Someone’s coming to get me. Stop pulling me around or I’ll puke on you.”
His grip tightened and he bared his teeth, yanking at my arm. “Mia, stop being so stubborn. Just let me take care of you.” His grip tightened painfully.
“You’re hurting me—let go!” My heartbeat raced in my eardrums and I grew dizzy with a sudden fear. What was this asshole trying to do? What did he want from me?
I swung the book in my hand and cracked it over his head. He spun on me with a hiss. “What the fuck, bitch?” He raised his free hand as if to hit me and I pulled back against his hold with all of my strength, falling on my butt, raising a hand to shield my face. My fall pulled him, still gripping my arm, to loom over me.
Images of that night with Zack up on the Ridge replaced Jon’s threat of violence. I’d had blood on my face, but he didn’t care. It ran down my chin, into my mouth—that bitter metallic taste mixed with my salty tears. No!
I pulled back, trying to get away from him. “Let me the fuck go!”
I turned to run, to scream, call out to the street. Those fuzzy spots were forming at the edge of my vision again and I could tell I’d be panicking a lot more if I wasn’t so slowed by the wine. For that I was grateful.
Right at that moment, Adam pulled up to the curb behind my car. His gaze was fixed on me and then on Jon. He’d seen the entire thing.
He was out of his car in a split second and moved so fast he was a blur. I could see the former track star in all his glory. In seconds, he was between us.
“Back off and let her go!” Adam ordered.
“I’m helping her. She’s going to drive off drunk,” Jon slurred. I yanked against his hold. It was as tight as ever.
Adam grabbed Jon’s free arm and twisted it up behind his back. Jon doubled over, yelping in pain. “I said. Let. Her. Go.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Jon screeched, yanking his hand away from my arm as if he’d burned himself. I fell back against the ground, rubbing where he’d grabbed me.
“You all right?” Adam called to me. I didn’t say anything, rocking, holding myself, trying to get the pan
ic to subside. “Emilia—”
“I’m okay.” I finally said, looking up at him. His gaze on me grew intent and he shifted his hold on Jon.
“Apologize to her, fucktard.”
“What the—agh!” he yelped in pain when Adam tightened his grip on the arm. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry!”
Adam let Jon go and stepped back. Jon spun, widening his stance as if he wanted to start something. Adam stood his ground, eyes locked on Jon—giving him a “mad dog” stare, as we’d called it in school.
“What the hell were you doing, trying to get her drunk?” he growled through clenched teeth.
“Dude, I was just refilling her cup.”
“Adam, let’s go,” I said, now worried that he wasn’t going to stand down.
Adam’s hands curled into fists at his sides. He had at least four inches and about thirty pounds on Jon. “You pull that shit again, I’m gonna fuck you up.”
True fear crossed Jon’s features. He wavered, looking unsure.
Adam took a step forward. “Don’t ever touch her again, got it?”
Jon’s face flushed a violent shade of red. He shifted to a more threatening stance. “What are you, her fuckin’ boyfriend? She doesn’t like men, you know.”
Adam failed to look intimidated by the show. He moved up to Jon and got in his face. “She likes men just fine. Maybe she doesn’t like you because you’re an asshole.”
Jon took a swing at Adam. But Adam shoved him away before his fist could connect. And that idiot landed on his back, staring up at Adam with open-mouthed shock.
Adam took a step forward. “And a bully. And I really hate bullies,” he said, his eyes glittering dangerously.
I pushed to my feet, managing to grab his arm. “Adam, please let’s go.”
He didn’t respond, his arm stiff with rage. He pulled me forward with him. “Adam,” I said, moving in front of him. The look on his face—that chill glint in his eyes actually made me go cold inside, made me wonder what he could be capable of. I pushed against his chest. “Please, it’s over.”
Girl Meets Billionaire Page 39
