by L.H. Cosway
“Yes, I was actually wondering if I could have a moment alone with your boss,” I said, eyes leveled on Annie.
“Of course,” Gerta began, getting up from her seat, but Annie stayed her with a hand.
“It’s okay, Gerta. I was just about to head home anyway. Mr. Fitzpatrick can walk me out.”
The way she emphasized addressing me formally made me want to grin. I thought that maybe, just maybe, my Annie was getting a touch territorial and didn’t like the camaraderie Gerta and I had struck up.
She stuffed the files in her handbag, slung it over her shoulder, and led the way out of the office. All the way to the elevators, she kept at least a foot of space between us. It made my inner predator growl with satisfaction to know she felt the need to distance herself for fear of what might happen. I prayed for an empty lift, and someone answered that prayer because when we stepped inside, there was no one else. I stood close beside her as she hit the button for the ground floor.
“So, looks like we’ll be spending a lot more time together, baby.” I grinned and tilted my head down at her.
She scrunched up her face. “Don’t call me that.”
“What?” I winked. “We’re a couple now. Couples give each other all sorts of nicknames.”
“Not all couples do that. And if you’ve forgotten, we’re a fake couple, so there’s no need for nicknames.”
She was all stoic and together now, nothing like the Annie of this morning. The one who snorted and laughed with me, the one who made my heart stop when she smiled.
“Damn, I was looking forward to your calling me puddinchops,” I joked, trying to break down her barrier. It worked a little because I saw her lips twitch in a smile.
“Christ, that’s awful,” she replied with a little shudder.
I nudged her with my shoulder. “What would you suggest, then?”
“I already told you that I quite like Mother Fitzpatrick,” she reluctantly teased.
“Oh, fuck no. That’s not happening,” I said and let my voice drop as I moved closer so that our arms were touching. “Though I won’t object to your calling me Daddy.”
Her eyes got really big then, and I burst out laughing. “I’m joking, Annie; relax. I’m joking.”
We were stepping out of the lift when she exhaled, “Thank God.”
“I know.” I chuckled. “I think I might have even creeped myself out with that one.”
When she looked at me then, there was a smile on her lips, and I thought I saw genuine fondness in her eyes. Beyond the lobby, I could see that the streets were absolutely crowded, and I remembered it was St. Patrick’s Day. I wasn’t crazy about crowds, and when I saw Annie looking nervous, I could tell that she liked them even less than I did.
Placing a hand on her lower back, I said, “Hey, I was thinking of taking a drive today. Get out of the city until all the festivities are over. You want to come?”
“You want to go for a drive…in your car…with me?” she asked, swallowing.
“Sure,” I said. She hesitated, and I guessed she was struggling because of the line she’d drawn between us while we were at the bakery. So I tried to ease her concerns while also attempting to encourage her to say yes. “Listen, no hard feelings about earlier, about what you said in the bakery. I heard you loud and clear. But this…no need for things to be tense between us. This can be our first fake date as a fake couple. I might even take a picture and post it to Instagram.”
It was too bloody cute when her eyes practically lit up that I’d mentioned Instagram and actually knew what it was used for.
“You’ve been studying the material I sent you?”
I gave her a sincere look, hoping she got the double meaning. “I’d do anything you asked of me, Annie.”
It took a while for her to reply. Her eyes lost focus as they moved between mine, and when she spoke she sounded a little dazed and a little afraid. “I guess going for a drive could be productive…?”
“Don’t sound so frightened.” I laughed. “I’m not a maniac; and besides, there’ll probably be paparazzi following us, so I won’t be able to try anything too crazy.”
As soon as we stepped out onto the crowded street, the lack of space seemed to stress her out because she was breathing agitatedly. I moved my hand from her back and pulled her close, keeping my arm around her shoulders like a barrier.
“Got a touch of claustrophobia?” I asked, guessing.
She nodded, pressing herself to me. I enjoyed how her soft curves fit against my body, how she felt under my hands.
“Just a touch,” she admitted.
“I won’t let anyone get to you, okay? You stay close, and we’ll be fine. Is there any point hailing a cab, or will it be quicker walking?”
“Quicker walking,” she said sharply, and it seemed she was having trouble getting the words out.
Soothingly, I kept rubbing my thumb back and forth over her shoulder.
“Deep breaths, yeah?” I said, coaching her.
She breathed in deeply and nodded. “Yeah.”
It took a while for us to get to my apartment building, and we walked in silence. I even had to sweet-talk a female cop into letting us jump a barrier blocking one side of the street from the other. When Annie pulled herself up on the bars and climbed over, I had to work not to openly stare at how her dress rose, revealing her shapely thighs.
By the time we got to my place, I needed to have lunch. Going to change out of my stained shirt, I told Annie to take a look around if she wanted and help herself to the food in the fridge. She said she wasn’t hungry and seemed content to wander through the penthouse. I knocked back a protein shake and then shoveled down the salad and cold cuts I’d prepared earlier this morning. I was just eating the last bites when Annie pulled up a stool next to me.
“I think I’d die of boredom if I had to eat what you eat every day. I’ve just been looking in your fridge, and there isn’t a single dessert in sight.”
I shrugged and pushed my plate away. “You get used to it. Well, okay, sometimes it’s a struggle; but mostly the sugars get flushed from your system, and you stop craving them all the time.” I paused and looked her over. “So, this drive we’re taking, you got any suggestions on where we could go?”
Her eyes met mine then darted away, her cheeks blushing pink. She laughed softly, but I detected a note of anxiety. “Let’s just try to get out of the city first. If we even manage that, then we’ll decide.”
Chapter Ten
@RonanFitz: @Socialmedialite I’m not having fun and I hold you solely responsible.
@Socialmedialite: @RonanFitz Have you checked out @dirtyrugbyjokes yet? ;-)
@RonanFitz: @Socialmedialite My earlier statement stands firm.
*Ronan*
As it happened, we did make it out of Manhattan. It took us a while, but I was finally on the motorway heading toward Poughkeepsie. Man, they did roads so much better here than they did back home. Sometimes it felt like there were a million lanes going each way. Also, there was something deeply satisfying about having Annie sitting beside me while I drove. It had been almost ten days since I’d been on the road, so I was obviously in dire need of a fix.
I heard Annie let out a quiet laugh and turned my head to look at her. “What?”
“I was just thinking that I’ve never seen anyone so fixated on a car before,” she replied, her tone surprisingly playful.
I held back a smile, quiet for a moment, before I teased, “Yeah, well, I never saw anyone perform fellatio on an éclair until the day I met you, love.”
She gasped and proceeded to slap me on the arm. “Ronan! I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Hey, I think you should own it. The way you eat is sexy as fuck.”
I glanced away from the road to look at her and saw that she was blushing again. She fiddled with the hem of her pink cardigan and stared out the window. I wanted to touch her so much in that moment that I was practically white-knuckling the steering wheel. It would
be so easy to just slip my hand under that silky dress, feel her skin, see how quickly I could get her wet....
I pushed those thoughts away because I was suddenly having difficulty focusing on the road.
“I’ve never owned a car before,” she said, breaking the quiet.
I looked at her. “No?”
She shook her head. “Never. I’ve always wanted one, though. Something fast, like this one. It’s gorgeous. But I’ve never had a reason to buy one, and I don’t know how to drive. Also, highways feel so…I don’t know, intimidating.”
“Ah, once you get over the learning part, it’s as natural as walking. Believe it or not, you’re sitting in my very first car. To this day, she’s still my favorite.”
She gave me an incredulous look. “This was your first car? This is a classic! Did you fix it up yourself? It must have been so expensive.”
“It was, but I scrimped and saved for it. It wasn’t until I made it onto a professional rugby team that I could finally afford it, though.”
“Wow,” she breathed. “Well, all the scrimping and saving was definitely worth it. I’d love a car like this.” She leaned back as though luxuriating in the comfort of the seat and classic lines of the muscle car, and I had to admit, it was a bit of a turn-on. Like I needed to be any more sexed up around this woman.
A couple of minutes passed before I could speak again. “Hey, Annie.”
“Mm-hmm?”
“What did you mean back in the office when you said people might find you a sympathetic character because of your past?”
There were several beats of silence, like she was considering whether or not to answer me. Finally, she did. “You know how in movies sometimes, they’ll have this cliché where a parent leaves their baby on the steps of a church or a hospital or something?”
I nodded and glanced at her. She was smiling, but it was the most heartbreaking smile I’d ever seen.
“Well, that cliché is me.”
I frowned at her, dividing my attention between her and the road. “What do you mean?”
“My mom abandoned me at a fire station when I was six.”
Jesus. Fuck.
I blinked at her, stunned. “Christ….” I exhaled the word and refocused on the road.
I wanted to ask more but didn’t know how to proceed, so we sat quietly for a few minutes.
She surprised me by volunteering, “Then I was sent to a group home and…well, eventually, following that, I was in and out of foster homes. See, I know this business, and if people love anything, it’s a sob story. Why else would they continue to highlight the contestants with sad backgrounds on all those reality talent shows? It helps the audience to relate, to sympathize and, in turn, show support. So, when the press digs into my background, sees how I dragged myself up from low beginnings, it could work to our advantage.” She tilted her chin up, a stubborn tilt, like her professionalism was her armor.
I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what the fuck I was supposed to say. Instead I drove, thinking about what it must’ve been like for her, a beautiful little girl with big brown eyes, a little girl given more brains than affection, a little girl who no one loved.
When I considered her innate tendency toward introversion paired with her childhood, it really was a wonder her past hadn’t completely destroyed her, made her withdraw into herself completely.
She was brave, but it was buried deep under layers and years of neglect and loneliness. She had no one.
Honestly, her story and the bland tone she used when she related it made my stomach hurt like I’d been sucker-punched. I felt queasy. She spoke about her past like it had happened to someone else. It made me want to hit someone.
While I appreciated that she was doing this fake girlfriend act to help me, I couldn’t care less about all that. I cared about her, and I was struck by how much.
Oh, Christ.
I cared about her.
This was not supposed to happen. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone get close again after being taken for a fool by Brona, and now Annie was already burrowing under my skin. I wanted to know all about her, and it unsettled me. I also had a feeling getting Annie to open up, really open up, wasn’t going to be an easy task, especially now that I knew the basics about her childhood.
She broke the silence. “With Brona’s story coming out, even though it’s all lies, you need to be prepared for people to turn against you. Having me as your girlfriend allows us to balance out some of that negativity.”
I realized that, unlike me, during the last few minutes she hadn’t been thinking about her childhood; she’d been thinking about how to exploit her childhood to help me, how her past was going to work to my advantage. I was used to other people using me, but I’d never had someone voluntarily offer to be used by me. My protective instinct flared, like a beast, fierce and strong. But still I said nothing.
She turned an introspective smile to me, one that I caught out of the corner of my eye. I glanced at her as she suggested, “I could plant a nickname for Brona around social media—The Harpy has a nice ring to it. No one would be able to trace it back to me.”
I let her attempt at humor lighten my black mood, and I gave her a half smile. “My mates call her The Hag.”
She chuckled softly and shook her head. “Name calling…it’s like we’re in elementary school.”
“She started it,” I said, hoping to make her laugh again. It worked.
Eventually, the silence lightened, grew oddly comfortable. About twenty minutes passed before we reached a town. I noticed a small, old-timey-looking ice cream parlor as we drove by, so I did a quick U-turn and parked outside. Annie looked out her window.
“We’re going in here?” she asked curiously.
“I figured it was about time you ate. You haven’t had anything since breakfast,” I told her, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. She didn’t protest at my touching her, so I ran my knuckles along her neck for a second, savoring the silky feel of her skin. She trembled. Yeah, she wanted me just as badly as I wanted her. She was just better at hiding it, and now I knew why.
“You know, despite evidence to the contrary, I don’t actually eat dessert for every meal. You’d make a terrible parent. All you’d feed your children is sugar.”
“Ha-ha. Come on, let’s go inside.”
“I’ll go in, on one condition,” she said, holding up a hand.
“Does that condition include eating you out? Because if so, you don’t even have to ask,” I replied, filthy flirting.
She sucked in a breath. “Ronan, you are….”
“Hush. I know. I’ve got a dirty mouth. Continue with your condition, honey.”
Shockingly, she gave me a playful scowl even as her cheeks blushed scarlet. “I’ll have the ice cream, but only if you have some, too.”
“Oh, will I be licking it off you then?”
I could tell she was trying not to smile now. “God, you’re insufferable. No, you won’t be licking it off me. You’ll be eating it from a cone, like a normal person who eats food for pleasure every once in a while, rather than only for fuel.”
I really, really didn’t want to eat the ice cream, mainly because it would fuck up my regime. However, I thought that maybe I could use this deal to my advantage. “Hmm, I’ll eat the ice cream—like a normal person—if you’ll let me ask you five questions about yourself. And you have to answer honestly, and you can’t talk about work for the entire duration of the conversation.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Two questions.”
“Three and it’s a deal,” I said, holding my hand out to her. “Besides, I’m going to have to learn more about you if we’re trying to convince people we’re a real couple.”
She sighed. Looking a little sad and—dare I say, regretful?—she shook my hand. “Fine, but you’re not allowed to order vanilla.”
I gave her a dark look. “Vanilla’s not my flavor, Annie.”
Shit, if only she knew.
>
Fifteen minutes later, we were sitting on a park bench eating our ice creams. Annie had ordered one scoop of chocolate and one scoop of pistachio while I’d gone for a cherry chocolate combination. She watched me expectantly as I brought the ice cream to my mouth and licked it. And yeah, okay, I might have groaned a little at how good it was. I hadn’t had sugar in a long time, maybe a year. Annie smiled bigger than I’d ever seen her smile, looking satisfied.
“You can wipe that smug look off your face,” I said, eyeing the handful of paparazzi who were hovering across the street, snapping shots of us. “Otherwise, I may have to kiss it off.”
“Smug, moi?” she asked, happily licking away. The sight of her pink tongue sneaking out past her lips did great things for my filthy imagination.
“You know you are. Now, I think it’s time I got my side of the bargain. First question.” I hesitated, made sure she was looking into my eyes, and kept my tone carefully respectful. “What was it like growing up in foster care?”
Annie furrowed her brow. “Lonely. Frightening. Disappointing.”
“Why frightening?”
“Isn’t it obvious? You’re this little kid at the mercy of strange adults, strange kids. It’s like roulette. You could get nice people, or you could get bad ones.”
Thinking of her as a little girl being sent to live with bad people made me angry, and it made me want to tuck her away someplace safe and take care of her; but I didn’t let her see that. I was also careful to keep pity from my expression. “And why disappointing?”
“Because you get your hopes up, and then people decide they don’t want you anymore,” she practically whispered before her voice turned steely. “That’s why I never let my happiness or survival depend on others. It means I eliminate the disappointment.”
