Imperfect Love: Unsupervised (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Cora Kenborn

  Niall pins me with a hardened stare. “Have you ever had your life turned upside down because of lies and greed?”

  “Well, no…”

  “Sophie’s mom came from money. A lot of money. Her parents wanted her to marry some rich, corporate guy like them, but instead, she found herself in my bed. We were careless kids and when she got pregnant, her parents gave her an ultimatum. Either she gave the baby up for adoption and walked away from me, or they disowned her. Jenna had a huge inheritance coming to her.” He shrugs, his eyes blanking with a sadness that squeezes my heart. “Apparently, I wasn’t worth risking it.”

  “She walked away? Just like that?”

  “Just like that.”

  Alcohol gives me courage. “Then how did you end up with Sophie?”

  He smiles wistfully. “Her parents were very prominent people. It didn’t fit in with their public image to have their daughter step foot in an abortion clinic, so they hid her away until Sophie was born. I couldn’t allow my child to go into the system, Laken. I knew I’d do it alone if I had to.”

  “She just handed her own child over?”

  He nods. “I signed over all my rights to any money for me or Sophie in exchange for full custody. She hasn’t laid eyes on her since. It’s hard making ends meet sometimes, but I wouldn’t change a thing if I could. That little girl is my world, and Sophie is better off without them.”

  “I can see that.”

  We sit in silence for a minute. As I twist my fingers in my lap, he reaches over and nudges me. “I’m sorry, I totally killed the vibe here. Let’s get back on track. Your turn.”

  Somehow it seems in poor taste to go back to the game after that, but I decide to humor him. “My favorite movie of all time is My Best Friend’s Wedding, I’ve never been in love, and I’ve never gotten drunk in my life.”

  “I thought you’d make this hard on me,” he says, cracking a smile again. “Definitely, the last one is the lie. You’ve already told me you’re a rom com movie junkie, and I’m guessing with your piss-poor poker face during drinking games, you’ve been drunk at least once.”

  The warmth of the shot starts to work its magic as the room hazes. “Drink.”

  His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “You mean there’s actually a rom com you don’t like?”

  I stare at him, refusing to speak until he picks up the glass and tosses it back.

  “You’re kidding me. You’ve never been in love? What about Preston’s dad?”

  I freeze. I don’t mean for Preston’s name to come up and I have no idea how I’m going to get around this. Finally, I decide vagueness is my best bet at throwing him off. “Love is for idealists and dreamers. I barely knew him.”

  Not a lie. Winston Hammerle is as elusive as Bigfoot. I’m not sure he even exists or if he’s been created as a front so his wife can bulldoze her way into the right social circles.

  Niall cocks his head to the side and studies me. “That’s a little jaded, don’t you think?”

  “Says the man who had to buy his own daughter.”

  “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe a woman like you has never had men fighting over her.”

  “No big deal. So, I’ve never been in love. It’s not the end of the world. It’s not like I had great role models in that department. The only thing my mom ever loved were roadies and flashing her saggy boobs to aging rock stars.”

  “So, Preston’s never met his father?”

  “A few times.” I cross my fingers under the table and stretch the truth until it almost snaps. “But he could take him or leave him most of the time. Preston’s a little eccentric and doesn’t fit with his ideals of what a son should be.”

  Niall’s eyebrows lift. “He’s wealthy too?”

  Oh shit.

  “You could say that.”

  He thinks for a minute, his fingers tightening around the glass. “You know you can sue him for child support. Don’t accept this on your own, Laken. You and that little boy deserve more.”

  Ugh. Preston does. I deserve everything coming to me.

  “If you want, I know some lawyers at Tate & Cane. I can make some calls for you—”

  “No!” I take a quick sip of the disgusting beer and shake my head while coughing and sputtering again. “I mean, that’s okay. I do just fine on my own. I’m a private person, Niall. I’d like to keep it that way.”

  He regards me with a curious gaze, but his features relax and he seems to let the issue go. “So, what’s so bad about My Best Friend’s Wedding to have made it on your cinematic shite list? Do you have issues with weddings or are you just anti-Julia Roberts?”

  “You’ve never seen the movie, have you?”

  “Can’t say I have.”

  “It’s a pseudo rom com.” I stare down at my clenched hands, feeling as if I’m telling some sort of warped autobiography. “You know, the type that pulls the rug out from under you at the last minute? Those types are supposed to end all happy and make you believe in the stupid power of karma and love, right?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Well, there’s this scene on a boat, the day before the guy Julia Roberts loves is supposed to marry someone else. It’s the perfect setup for her to tell him not to do it because she loves him and you know he loves her. I mean, he even sings The Way You Look Tonight to her. How many clues does she need, right? If a guy sings that song to you, there’s no way you can refuse.”

  “Good to know.” Niall frowned. “Let me guess, she doesn’t tell him?”

  “Fuck no,” I blurt out with an impatient huff. “He even begs her—opens the door wide and tells her that if she loves him, to scream that shit out loud for once in her miserable life.”

  “Well, it’s a rom com. Don’t they end up together anyway?”

  “No. That’s why it’s the shittiest rom com ever made. That douchebag marries the stick in the mud and she loses everything.” I slice a hand through the air. “Game over.”

  He drapes a hand across my thigh. “Well, considering you have a ring on your finger right now, things don’t seem to be working out too badly for you.”

  A smooth talker…my will to stay platonic…and my dignity walk into a bar…

  There’s no punchline here. All three walked in and only one is walking out. Any guesses on which one makes it home?

  “Shots!” I call out to wherever the hell Molly disappeared to. “More shots!”

  As if summoned by the word, Molly suddenly appears—you guessed it—right by Niall’s side with one hand on her hip and the other draped over his shoulder. If looks could kill, the bitch would be in a box with a concrete slab on top of her botoxed face.

  “How many?” she asks, tossing a smile Niall’s way.

  “Four,” I answer before he does, and Molly shoots me a look as if she just drank a pail of piss before swinging her overinflated ass back to the bar.

  He blinks at me. “Four?”

  I drum my fingers on the table, trying not to flinch at the thought of downing one, let alone two more of those vile drinks. “Scared?”

  “Laken, I backpacked across Europe and lived in New York City with a few dollars in my pocket and a camera.” He chuckles and sits back, draping his arms across the back of the booth. “I don’t know the meaning of the word.”

  Men are so easily distracted it isn’t funny. Invading his personal space, I close the distance between us and press my lips against his ear, unable to hold back a smirk. “Well, Mr. Mackay, I suggest you put your drink where your mouth is and prove it.”

  Before I can pull away, he grabs ahold of my wrist and shifts so that our mouths are inches apart. “Play your cards right, and I’ll put it somewhere else.”

  This just got interesting.

  “Do you always blatantly ask for sex?”

  “Aye.” His gaze drops to my lips, and I shudder. “Only from women whose middle name is Paige.”

  I’m so fucked.

  When did I lose the upper hand, and why am I dying f
or him to just lean in and kiss me senseless? If I just brush forward, our lips will touch. Then the ball will be in his court, right? Hell no. This is not the time to lose focus and let sexual infatuation cloud my judgment. Niall Mackay holds my future in his hand, and I can’t let some stupid attraction get in the way.

  I pull away. “I think you’re drunk.”

  “I think you’re changing the subject, Miss Cavanaugh.” Reaching for the shots Molly put on the table during our staredown, Niall places shot glass in front of me and raises his own in the air, giving me a wolfish wink. “To what comes later.”

  Yeah. I’m definitely fucked.

  Chapter Eight

  Laken

  Four shots become eight and by the time we stand to walk out of the bar, Niall acquires two more sets of eyes and has lips on either side of his face. Or, I might be drunk and spinning; it’s all new to me.

  “You know?” I say as he places a hand at the small of my back. “You’re not such…such a dick after all.”

  A chuckle trails from behind me. “You thought I was a dick?”

  I nod, forgetting my head is no longer attached to my neck. It wobbles unsteadily until I hold onto a chair as I stumble to the door. “Yep. I thought you were just as much of a bully as your kid. I mean, she knocked Preston down and wailed on him. Did you teach her to fight like that or was her mom a WWF wrestler?”

  A burst of warm air smacks me in the face as we walk outside. Niall still has his hand pressed against my lower back, guiding me away from the building, and my skin is tinging with the warmth of the whiskey. I can’t help but feel a little guilty. The day ends up amazing. The date is amazing. Niall is amazing.

  And I’m a fucking douchebag. A shit. A lying shit. I should tell him the truth right now. Just get it all out and come clean. He’ll probably call the whole deal off, which is what I deserve. And I almost do it.

  Almost.

  Until he runs a hand up my arm and pulls me to him. All I can smell is the forest. Hell, he smells like the forest. It’s intoxicating and all I want to do is curl up against him and breathe him in.

  “Laken, I have to be honest with you.”

  My head pops up from his chest at that word. “Honest?”

  “Aye,” he says, his Irish accent like a drug. “I like the way things are headed with us. I want to ask you…”

  Ask me. Ask me. Ask me.

  “Mackay! How the hell are you? I haven’t seen you around the office since we finished the Brower account.” I swallow hard as the same large, burly guy who’d sent me the drink barrels out of the bar and claps Niall on the shoulder.

  “Feckin’ hell.” Painting a forced smile on his face, Niall shifts away from the intoxicated man’s hold and nods to him as he introduces me. “Laken, this is Bryce Holley, another project manager at Tate & Cane.”

  At the mention of Tate & Cane, I immediately perk up and try my best to sober my ass up. Shit, why didn’t I just accept the damn drink? If I’m going to be working with these people, I need to put my best foot forward.

  Just as I extend my hand, Niall curses under his breath and gives me an apologetic look. “Damn. I left my credit card on the table. Laken, will you please excuse me for a moment?” Throwing a warning glare at Bryce, he nods toward the door. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  The moment the heavy wooden door closes behind Niall, Bryce licks his lips and takes a step toward me. “It’s not polite to turn down a drink, Laken.” His eyes trail down my dress with an inebriated hunger. “Haven’t seen you around. Are you new at the office?”

  I don’t like the wild look in this guy’s eyes or the way he’s undressing me with his eyes. I step backward and end up flush against the brick wall of the bar. “No, I’m just a friend of Niall’s.”

  “Any friend of Niall’s is a friend of mine,” he says, baring his stained teeth.

  Ew. This guy takes the creepy vibe and amps it up to eleven.

  I turn my head away and push myself further into the wall. “Yes, well, I have quite enough friends, thanks.”

  Bracing his palms by the sides of my head, I’m held still by his strength and the alcohol on his breath. “Come on, baby, don’t play hard to get. You might regret it.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Well, Niall’s a friend of mine and we have an arrangement. What’s mine is mine and what’s his is mine.” Pressing a knee between mine, he inhales long and hard against my neck.

  Disgusted, I don’t think, I just open my mouth and react. “Way to hit on your friend’s fiancée. Go sleep it off, asshole.”

  “Is there something I can help you with, Bryce?” Niall snaps, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him. “You know, other than my fiancée?”

  “Fiancée?” Bryce’s bloodshot eyes waver for a minute before the cocky smirk returns. “You may want to keep this one on a tighter leash, Mackay. She was on my dick the minute you walked away.”

  Niall lets out a low laugh that’s not meant to be funny, and a chill runs down my spine. “You saw me walk in with her and sent the drink over anyway. I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to prove, but touch her again, and I’ll end you, you miserable feck.” Niall takes a step forward, almost chest to chest with Bryce, his eyes wild with untamed fury as he shoves him hard in the center of his chest.

  Panicked that this is about to end up in some sort of pissing contest, I hold up one hand and pull on Niall’s with the other. Although, I should be irritated he doesn’t think I can handle this on my own, but some deep-rooted part of me is turned on by his desire to protect me.

  “It’s not worth it,” I whisper into his ear.

  Bryce scrambles to his feet and spits on the ground in front of him. “This isn’t over, Mackay,” he mumbles as he glares at me and disappears around the corner.

  We stand there in silence until Niall turns and gently touches my cheek with fire in his eyes. “Did he touch you?”

  “It’s fine, I—”

  His jaw tightens with every word. “Did. He. Touch. You?”

  “No,” I admit as we stare at each other, the sexual electricity between us almost too much to take. His stare is heated, and if I hold it too long, I’ll get lost in it forever. “Well, thanks for tonight, Niall, I—”

  An impending storm of rage flashes through his eyes as he roughly grabs my cheek and, before I can protest, claims my mouth in a heated kiss. I’ve wanted him to kiss me again for so long, but for some reason, the guilt of everything is eating at me. I push the nagging remorse down and for half a heartbeat, we stand there, tongues clashing and fingers tugging at each other’s hair before I finally come to my senses and pull away.

  “I need to…this is…I need to go home, Niall.”

  A half smile plays on his lips as he caresses my cheek and leaves one last lingering kiss on the corner of my mouth. “I’ll walk you.”

  ***

  The whole way back to my apartment, the sexual chemistry is blinding. Niall is affectionate and attentive, and I battle back and forth between giving in and ending the lie right now.

  The minute we reach the door to my apartment, Niall braces a hand on each side of the doorframe and boxes me in. “Sophie is at a sleepover with a neighbor tonight.”

  I smile and eye him curiously. “Are you flirting with me, Mackay?”

  His face flushes, but I know the minute his eyes darken, it’s not embarrassment that’s staining the skin above his beard. “No. I was flirting with you back at the bar. Now, I’m propositioning you.”

  He looks so sure of himself that it unnerves me a little. “Well. That’s blunt.”

  His voice rumbles as he crowds me against the door. “Aye. When there’s something right in front of me I know that I want, I see no reason to mince words.” Taking a step closer, he presses his body against me and every nerve ending blazes with electricity. “What do you want, Laken?”

  There’s a right answer and a wrong answer here. One that’s responsible and one that serves my own selfish, horny
needs. “You,” I whisper on a breathy exhale.

  With my back pressed up against my door, Niall smiles a devilish grin that causes that adorable dimple to sink deep into his cheek, and I can almost believe our lie is real—that there is emotion behind the heat in his eyes and he feels something for me. I bite my lip, realizing I’m in over my head. The line between fake fiancée and reality has blurred so much that I can’t see this for what it really is—just simple drunken lust.

  Then he kisses me again and I lose all concept of right and wrong. I can’t think, I can barely breathe. Niall Mackay’s kisses are as hypnotizing as his accent, and combined, they both flip my world inside out and upside down. The roughness of his assault and the way he commands control of my lips drowns me. I’m losing every objection I can think of to inviting him inside.

  Finally breaking the kiss, Niall pulls back and cups my cheek. “Is Preston coming home tonight?”

  Who?

  Preston. Preston. Preston. Oh fuck! Panic squeezes my heart, so I say the first thing that comes to my mind. “Preston’s spending the night at a friend’s house too.”

  Okay, technically it’s not a lie. Technically, Lollie is a friend, and technically, she lives at the Hammerles where Preston also technically lives.

  Also? I’m technically full of shit.

  “I’m not an exhibitionist, Laken, but if you don’t open the door, your neighbors are going to get to know a whole new side of you.” Although he laughs, there’s a serious darkness in his stare that has my palms pressing flat against the wood and my fingers twitching with restraint.

  And this is where I break my neck trying to open the door.

  Digging blindly in my purse for my keys, I close my hand around the bundle of metal clanging together. Finally finding the right key, I jab it into the lock a few times before it finally fits, sighing with relief when it turns. I can hear Niall breathing heavily behind me and the only thing on my mind is what he’s going to sound like on top of me. Even the thought has my palms sweating as I hurry to push the door open.