The Terms Duet

by Rowe, Ruby

  “He will, too. I believe that we can trust him, and it feels good to finally have someone to count on.”

  “Yeah, I’m beginning to understand. I’ve only been at Greyson’s a few days, and I’m already seeing how nice it is to have a responsible man to count on instead of the losers I’ve dated in the past.”

  I feel Camilla’s eyes on me, and the purr of the engine is the only other sound I hear. “It’s not like that.” I give her a reassuring look. “I only mean I feel safe … and lucky.”

  “Maybe you should come live with us.”

  “No, Greyson was right when he said you and Ellis needed time together. Actually, you, Ellis and Liam need time to be a family.”

  “I shouldn’t tell you this, but Greyson’s getting engaged. It’s an arranged marriage with someone in their high-society circle,” she says in an irritated tone. “It’s absurd to me. I mean, what century do their parents think this is?

  “And what’s odd is his father seems like the most laid-back man. He was sweet and funny, and I can’t picture him making Greyson marry someone he’s not in love with.”

  She touches my arm. “Please don’t say anything to him, though. We’re not supposed to know about it.”

  “I won’t.” I do, however, ponder the news she briefed me on. There’s a tinge of jealousy that someone else gets to have a future with Greyson, especially someone he doesn’t love. Is this why he hasn’t mentioned her to me? If so, that’s sad.

  If he’s really engaged and I can’t talk to him about it, then what am I supposed to do about living there?

  Greyson

  Once I finish eating the awesome steak, scalloped potatoes and asparagus Theresa left in the oven for me, I change into athletic shorts and a t-shirt.

  It’s almost nine o’clock, and I’m tired, but it’s too early to crash, so I sit on the couch and turn on the television to catch the latest sports news. About ten minutes in, the doorbell rings. God forbid I ever relax.

  Few people have access to this floor, so I’m curious who it could be. I tread to the door and swing it open.

  “Whit, what are you doing here?”

  “It can’t wait.”

  Rolling my eyes, I step back for her to enter. Her long lashes flutter up at me as she brushes against my body to step inside. I follow her to my living room, and she takes a seat on the couch in her slinky hot pink dress.

  “Would you like to have a seat?” I mumble sarcastically. I also cross my arms and keep a safe ten feet between us. I’m being a dick, but she brings it out in me.

  “Stop, Greyson. You act like I’m a stranger.”

  “You pretty much are.”

  She pats the spot next to her. “Sit so we can talk.” Fooling with my hair, I trudge over and take a seat. “If you don’t want my father showing up here or at your office, then you need to put a ring on my finger.

  “I’ll set the date, and our mothers and I can arrange the wedding. I swear all you have to do is show up for the parties and the wedding. That’s it. Oh, and get fitted for your tux.”

  “That’s it?” I ask with aggravation. “I think you’re forgetting the most important part of this deal. It’s where I agree to spend the rest of my life with you.

  “We’ll have to live in the same house and be there for one another not only in health but in sickness, too. We’re also supposed to remain faithful.”

  Whitney tears up, and her lip quivers. Ah, shit, this never ends well.

  “You act like I’m diseased or something. Greyson, I know we’ve both screwed around. I won’t try to hide it.”

  “Good because I have a mental list of guys you’ve fucked all this time we were supposedly in a relationship. The latest being that douche, Sebastian.”

  “Oh, don’t you point fingers. At least he wants to touch me. What about all the women you’ve slept with? I saw you sneak off with Penny at the gala.”

  “I wouldn’t let her wet my dick for a million bucks.”

  Whitney smiles, and it reaches her glassy green eyes.

  “Really? You didn’t sleep with her?”

  “No, but I’m not innocent, either.”

  Scooting closer, she wipes a stray tear from her cheek.

  “Let’s start over, Greyson. When we first got together, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.” She slithers her fingers over my thigh. “You used to look at me like I was your whole world. What changed?”

  “We did. We grew up and became two different people. I’m sorry to say it, but you don’t think about anyone other than yourself. It’s always about what’s best for you, and I grew tired of watching the Whitney show.”

  “That’s not true, but I’m willing to try harder to make this work. An engagement could be our fresh start. We can work on our relationship and agree not to sleep around.”

  “That’s the thing, Whitney; we shouldn’t be getting married when our relationship needs fixing. Hell, to me we don’t even have a relationship.”

  “Together, our grandfathers built an empire in the oil industry. We’re the two people they’re counting on to link our families together. Look, I promise I’ll be the person you need me to be. Just give us another chance.”

  Her hand slides over my cock, and rubs all rational thought right out of me. My dick hardens beneath her palm, and I’m fucked.

  Her pouty lips press to my cheek next and kiss their way behind my ear and down my neck. I get a whiff of the familiar fruity scent from her strawberry-blond hair.

  Angry that her seduction is working, I groan. She always wins, and I’m tired of it, but on the other hand, I need a release from the sexual tension I’ve been carrying lately.

  “Take me to your room, and I’ll show you I’m willing to change. Do what you want to me, Greyson,” she whispers in my ear, “or I can suck your cock right here.”

  A blowjob sounds appealing, but I don’t want her in control. She thinks she owns my balls as it is. I’m not giving her access to the real pair. No, if she’s so determined to give me what I want, then I’ll fuck her doggy style right on this couch.

  “Shift around, and bend over the arm rest.” She starts to say something but wises up. Setting her purse on the floor, she gets in position for me.

  She lifts her dress, and I eye her smooth, bare skin. A slip of light pink lace runs down the crack of her ass, and it matches the lace that trims the top of sheer stockings that cover her shapely thighs.

  Damn, one thing I do love about a woman with money is how they pride themselves on the sensual lingerie beneath their clothing. Opening the drawer on the side table, I fish around until I find a condom.

  Yanking down my shorts, I roll the latex over my cock quickly before I lose my hard-on. I stroke myself a couple of times while I shove her thong aside. She whimpers and sinks against the two fingers I push inside her.

  We haven’t slept together in six months, and although I know I’m an idiot for sticking my dick in her again, I have this strong urge to hate-fuck her senseless.

  Grabbing a hunk of her hair, I wrap it around my wrist and slam into her. She gasps, stunned by my aggressiveness. I’ve never been this rough with Whitney.

  We were each other’s firsts, so it was all gentle and sweet back then and set the stage for the sex to come, but I’m over doing things the way she wants, and I’m done pretending that we love each other.

  Remembering that I’m fucking her, I drive into her harder. The self-loathing rises from the ashes for being weak and caving in.

  I’m doing this so I can punish her while I get off, and she’s doing it so she can marry a man that doesn’t even want her. We’re sick, and I don’t see how I’ll go through with the wedding.

  Catching sight of a shadow, I look up in time to see Sasha. She’s standing paralyzed and watching us. I should stop this instant, but I can’t any more than she’s able to stop watching.

  It hits me like a bolt of lightning. I’m angry because it’s not Sasha I’m fucking. It’s not Sasha I can get to
know or let in. I can’t spend time with her, and in about two seconds, I’m going to be reminded why she can’t live with me. Whitney’s body tenses, and Sasha’s eyes grow rounder.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Whitney yells. Sasha turns toward the foyer but then turns back the other direction toward the hallway.

  She wants to run, and I know what’s going through her head. The car’s not mine, and the bedroom’s not mine... Where the hell am I supposed to go? The realization makes me sicker than before because she was supposed to feel safe here. She was counting on me.

  I slip out of Whitney and pull up my shorts about the time Sasha runs to her room and slams the door. Whit’s on her feet in a flash. “Who the fuck was that? And why did she head toward the bedrooms?” Her nostrils flare, and her skin is scarlet.

  “It’s not what you think. She’s the sister to Ellis’s girlfriend and needs a place to stay. She’s an addict, and you know I’ve helped out several people during their recovery.”

  “No, you helped out several males while they recovered.”

  “It shouldn’t matter what sex she is.”

  She grabs her hip. “When did you plan on telling me this?”

  “I didn’t think it was a big deal, and I doubt she’ll be here long.”

  “She’s not staying here period. Do you know what people will say if they find out you have some other girl shacked up with you? You’re not humiliating me in front of our family and friends.”

  “What you said about changing is total bullshit. You plan on bossing me around like you always have, and it’s not happenin’. She can live here as long as she wants, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

  Swiping her purse off the floor, she huffs and straightens her hair.

  “I better get a fucking ring by the end of the month, or I’m telling your father about your slutty side piece.”

  Grabbing my head, I let out a roar that echoes through the house, but it’s not as loud as the sound of the lamp crashing to the floor after I throw it.

  Sasha

  Flinching from the sound of something breaking, I toss my suitcases on the bed and begin stuffing them with the few clothes I’d found a home for. I shove the dresser drawer closed and turn around to soak in the last sight of the spacious room and solid oak furniture.

  Greyson told me yesterday that he’d let me decorate it however I wanted, and I was already thinking up a color scheme. After I saved some paychecks, I was going to buy my first comforter set.

  It was stupid of me to think this could ever feel like home. Seeing him with her made me ill, and getting caught watching them was humiliating. How will I ever face Greyson again?

  Leaning back against the dresser, I sink to the floor and pull my phone from my pocket. I’ll text Camilla and see if she’ll come get me, or maybe I should call an old friend instead. I’m a burden my sister doesn’t need.

  I jump from the pounding on the door.

  “I’m coming in. We need to talk.”

  “No. Go away. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I get a ride.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.” He tries to come in, but the door’s locked. “Open this goddamn door. There’s things I can’t fix in my life, but this isn’t going to be one of them.”

  “Please, go away.” I begin to sob, and I’m not sure of all the reasons why, but one that I’m certain of is I officially have a crush on a man I could never be with. It’s why I have to get out of here.

  “Dammit, why are you crying?”

  “Go. Away. I’m leaving.”

  He mumbles something unintelligible and stomps away. Relieved he’s leaving me alone, I wipe my eyes and get up off the floor to finish packing. Within a minute, the handle jiggles again, and in seconds, Greyson shoves the door open.

  His blond hair is in disarray, and his t-shirt hugs his muscles so beautifully tight. His face reveals anger and desperation, and I don’t want to hear why because I don’t want to care.

  “I believe in facing things head on, if you haven’t noticed, so we’re airing this out now.”

  I cross my arms. “Head on you say? It looked like from behind to me.”

  Tightening his lips, he brings a fist up to his mouth, locking down whatever anger he’d prefer to unleash.

  “OK, I deserved that, but only because you’re staying here. I have a right to fuck whoever and wherever in my own home, but since you’re living here, I should’ve remembered that you could walk in on us. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “You should’ve told me you had a girlfriend. I never would’ve agreed to come here, and you should know a girlfriend would never approve of me being here, either.”

  “I don’t care what Whitney thinks, and stop calling her my girlfriend.”

  “What is she then? A random hookup?”

  “No, she’s, she’s … it’s complicated.”

  I stick out a hand. “This early in my recovery, I can’t get caught up in your drama, so I’m going to find somewhere else to stay. Thank you for all you’ve done for me. Now, please get out so I can pack in peace.”

  Greyson stalks toward me like I’m some sort of prey, so I step back until my legs hit the bed.

  “Why were you crying?” He brushes tears from my cheeks, so I pull back and look away.

  “My own shit’s complicated, too, so let’s part ways now before we make our situations more fucked up than they already are.”

  “I meant it when I said I wanted to help you. I slipped up, OK? I’m sorry. I’m used to being here alone, so when Whitney showed up uninvited and came on to me, I didn’t think about you walking in on us.

  “I swear I won’t let it happen again. Actually, you saved me from a head-on collision. I was making the biggest mistake of my life letting her back in my personal space.”

  I look at him and smirk. “She was definitely backing into your space.”

  He cracks a grin, his dimples finally coming out to play along his flushed skin.

  “That was another good comeback. Fucking embarrassing, but clever. See, I need this banter to keep me in check, so stay here. I promise I’ll behave.”

  Exhaling, I examine his handsome face and a mouth that’s making promises I want to believe. He might behave, but my emotions won’t. I like him, and that won’t change if I continue to live with him.

  “I’ll stay, but only for a short time. As soon as I save enough money, I’m moving out.”

  “Thank you. Now, unpack your clothes and come watch some trashy television with me.”

  “Uh, I have no desire to ever sit on your couch.”

  “Oh, right.” He tilts his head to the side. “You did something to your hair. I like it.”

  “I got it layered and added some highlights.”

  “You already had those. Natural ones in about three different shades of brown.”

  I scrunch my nose. “You noticed that?”

  “Yeah, I did.” Lifting a piece of my hair, he eyes it. “I like this, too.”

  “Thanks. I want to be sure I get up in the morning on time, so I better go to bed.”

  “Yeah, I probably should, too. It was a long day. You promise you won’t sneak out of here?”

  “I promise.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Camilla

  “I’ll check on him,” I say to Ellis as I hurry off the bed and throw on my robe. Liam is screaming for me, and I can hear it on the monitor next to Ellis’s bed.

  I run down the hallway and sling open his door. He’s reaching for me, his small hands opening and closing, and I have a flashback to when he tumbled down the staircase with Ellis. That same terror is etched on his face.

  “Momma, Mommyyyyy,” he cries.

  “Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Sitting on his bed, I pull him onto my lap. As I rock forward and back to soothe him, I stroke his hair and hum a song. Sniffling, he wipes his wet face and nose on the sleeve of my robe. “Did you have a bad dream?” I ask him.

  “Chris,” he says b
efore he cries again.

  “Chris? Our friend Chris?”

  Liam nods.

  “What about him? Was he in your dream?”

  “Secret,” he mumbles.

  “Secret? Baby, I don’t understand.”

  “Will you sleep with me?” Turning himself around in my lap, he wraps his arms around my neck like a vise. I kiss his head as I think about Ellis’s disapproval.

  “Sure, I’ll sleep in here with you. Just tonight, though.”

  ***

  “Camilla, wake up,” Ellis says. I open my eyes, and he’s touching my shoulder. Smelling his clean scent, I admire him in jeans and a thin brown sweater.

  “Good morning,” I say before I look down and see that Liam’s still asleep next to me.

  “What happened?”

  “I guess he had his first night terror. He was petrified when I came in here. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t leave him.”

  His gaze softens. “Don’t be sorry. I get it now.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Emma will be here in thirty minutes, and don’t forget that Liam’s first Italian lesson is at ten. The tutor’s name is Lorenzo, and he’s actually Italian, so maybe he’s familiar with the town your grandmother lives in.”

  “I can’t talk to him about her.”

  “Then, you need to talk to me soon. You have to tell me why you haven’t seen her in years.”

  “I will, but right now I better get moving.”

  “I have a business meeting at ten, so I’m leaving soon, but I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast first.”

  “Sounds good.” Waking Liam, I help him get dressed for the day. He takes his baths at night, so it normally makes for easier mornings, but not today.

  He’s difficult and whiny and refuses to go downstairs, so I carry him there, which flares up my back pain. We reach the dining room, and his face lights up.

  “Boss-Daddyyyy.”

  Ellis and I both chuckle. “Hi, kid. That’s an interesting combination, and I can only imagine what my parents will think of it.” He brushes Liam’s hair from his face before he gets up to help him into his chair.