by Emily Bishop
When my breakfast comes, I try to make conversation. Mushrooms, hash browns, fried eggs, baked beans, sausages, fried bread, and bacon. “Have you ever had an English breakfast before?”
“No.” She surveys my meal. “Looks like a heart attack on a plate.”
I’m tired as hell but try to laugh. I want to reestablish the connection. “You’re right. It’s a once-in-a-while treat. When I’m extremely hungover.”
“Wouldn’t that be every day then?”
“I’m not an alcoholic, Isabella.” Her tone got under my skin.
“A funaholic.”
“Stop judging me. That’s all you do. Judge judge judge.” I tuck into my meal with a vengeance.
“You’re actually judging me for judging,” she says, looking back down at her papers. “Thankfully, I don’t put much stock in your opinion.”
“Don’t I know it.” I spear a hash brown. “You couldn’t have a lower opinion of me if you’d found me on the bottom of your shoe.”
She purses her lips. “Don’t feel sorry for yourself. We’re just not compatible.”
“I’ll say.” I watch her. Her beautiful, self-righteous face hits me in the heart like a sucker punch. “Why are you acting like such a bitch this morning? What exactly did I do to you?”
“Charming,” she says. “So, first you dance the night away with hot sexy aristocrat Lillia Smythe-Darcy. And now you call me a bitch. This is wonderful. Just wonderful.”
“I didn’t call you a bitch,” I say hotly. “I asked why you were acting like one. That means you’re not one.” That sounds really lame coming out of my mouth. “But what was that about Lilly?”
“You were dancing with her. Don’t you remember?”
“You’re making that up.”
“Ha!” She says it so loud other patrons turn to stare. “Yeah. It’s my wildest fantasy. To see her gyrating and making eyes at you. It was amazing.”
I try to scan back in my memory, but I really can’t remember. In truth, there were a lot of girls gyrating and making eyes at me. That’s par for the course. “You know I can’t stand Lilly. Why would I dance with her? I don’t even want to get a glimpse of her.”
“Maybe it’s all an act.” Isabella doesn’t look up. “I think you’re still in love with her, just denying it to yourself. And I think she knows that, too.”
“What?” I slam my fist down on the table, and the sweet tea sloshes over the side of the mug. The cutlery clatters. People stare.
Isabella gives me an icy stare. “I’ll finish up my paperwork in the car.”
***
She doesn’t talk to me all the way back to the mansion. I feel like death warmed up and slump my arm over the steering wheel. I keep glancing toward her. I try to read her face. One moment, I feel like I want to please her. The next, I feel I want her to get the hell away from me and stay away. The trip is exhausting. By the time we pull up the mansion drive, I’ve thoroughly confused myself. Or maybe she has. I don’t even know.
But I put on my swagger. My nothing-can-rattle-me swagger. I walk to the door without a look back at her.
She hurries up the steps after me. “I still want to talk figures with you. Let’s do it now.”
Maybe that will make her happy. Open up a bit. “Yes. In the dining room. Come.” We go through the hallway, past the dusty tapestries and windows that aren’t quite clean enough, like once you’re inside, you can’t see out properly. My vision of the world is covered with a film of dust.
When we get to the dining room, I’m ready to listen attentively. To make her see that I can be serious. That responsibility means something to me.
Isabella smiles and places her laptop on the table. It looks like she’s going to warm to me again.
“Eh hem.” We both whirl around. My stomach sinks the minute I see who’s sitting at the head of the grand polished table, grinning at us. Lilly.
“You again?” The fury’s hot in my voice.
“I’ll be going to my room.” Isabella turns on her heel and hurries away, clutching her papers under her arm.
Lilly watches her leave with a sick smile. “Yep. She knows who the queen is around here.”
“I hope to god you’re not talking about yourself. Unless you mean queen bitch.” I pick up Isabella’s laptop to go take it to her room.
Lilly laughs and starts to walk toward me. Her walk is slow. Seductive. She brushes her fingertips over the curved back of each chair as she makes her way toward me. “Gray, I’ll never understand why you would like a woman like her. She’s so boring.”
I turn to face her and square up. She’s doing a dirty battle, and there’s no way in hell I’m falling for it. “Isabella’s worth more than a dozen of you.”
She pretends to look hurt. She pauses her procession and puts her hand on her heart. “Gray. How could you say that?”
“Truth hurts.” I watch her manipulative, sly face with all its fake hurt, and with a jolt of rage, I remember the past. “You were only with me for money and status.”
“Status? Ha!” All of a sudden she’s smiling. A horrible, leering grin. “Your family name can’t hold a candle to mine, Grayson. Don’t think you’re special because you have money. That’s vulgar of you.”
“You’re not seeing a penny of it. You know that, don’t you? No woman will ever use me.”
She laughs then advances in that flirtatious way again. “Are you sure about that?” She traces her finger up my arm. I don’t pull away. She would think I was weak. “What about Isabella? She’s plainly here for your money.”
Well, in a sense, she is. Of course, that’s what this fake engagement is based upon. I’m not about to tell Lilly that. But Isabella isn’t just here for the money, I can feel it. “Isabella is real. She’s not after money. She doesn’t pretend. She’s not a snake.”
“Every woman wants diamonds and gold,” Lilly says. “I can’t lie, I want it too. But at least I really love you, too. I really do. That Isabella? She looks at you and sees pound signs.” Then she fakes an American accent. “Sorry, dollar signs. I know all about the solicitor deal, you know.”
“Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she says, a sly grin on her face. “Isabella doesn’t love you. You don’t make her happy. The money does.”
An idea flashes through my mind. “Oh, yeah? Watch this.” I sit at the table and flip open the laptop. I think back to Isabella and her Kindle. She always has her head in it, especially when she’s stressed. Hell, she’s probably on it right now. I’ll order her some books on Kindle. That will make her happy. I know what kind of woman she is. She was so touched when I remembered her favorite foods from school. If I can buy her a business book now, and maybe a fiction book, too, she’ll love it. “See how simple this is?” I tell Lilly, while I click onto Amazon. Isabella’s account is already logged in. “Just… perhaps twenty pounds on two Kindle books, maybe even less. And this will make her feel happy.”
Lilly snorts. “Good luck. Go ahead and try it. See if she doesn’t laugh at you.”
“Whatever.” I go onto Isabella’s purchase history to see what she likes. Maybe they’ll have some suggestions on there. I scroll down the fiction books she’s ordered, some business books, too. Books on business debt, expansion, things like that. She really does care about her father’s business. So much. For the first time, that fact makes me feel warm inside. Like she’s a safe person. A really safe person. “You know, Isabella is much more—” I freeze. I can’t help it. My eyes track over a title that hits me in the gut. How to Play with Men’s Minds and Have Them Wrapped around Your Little Finger. I check the date. Fuck. It’s just after we met.
I forgot Lilly existed for a second. “Gray?” she says.
I try to slam the laptop shut, but she gets there faster. “Ooh hoo hoo!” she squeals. “Look at what your perfect little Isabella is reading! I told you she’s no good, Gray!”
The world closes in on me. I don’t know what is up or down, left
or right.
Lilly pushes the laptop away and perches on the table in front of me. Her voice changes to soft and sweet. “Hey, Grayson, forget about that horrible bitch. You know I’m the only woman who can understand you. You know it.”
I feel numb. I don’t even move. She puts her hands on my shoulders then comes close. She’s going to kiss me.
Chapter 16
Isabella
DAY 11
They probably think I’m so pathetic. Running out of the room without even getting my laptop. They know Lilly intimidates me. Why do I let her? Ugh, I want to go home. Back to my business. Where I feel in control. Sure, our numbers are in the red. But I know how to make them go into the black. But then, I need Gray. I mean, I need his money. I don’t even know anymore. I’m not used to needing anything. Or anyone.
In the hallway on the way to the dining room, I pretend I’m back in Seattle. On my way to a business meeting. My smart, confident self. No one can intimidate me. I know what I want, and I know how to ask for it. I plan how I’m going to walk in. Breezy. With a little laugh. “Oh, I forgot my laptop. Well, anyway, I have business to attend to, guys. Talk soon.” That’s what I’m going to say. It feels good.
Then I walk in. “Oh, I forgot—”
Gray pushes Lilly off him. Her mouth is still puckered. My mind races a billion miles an hour. Were they kissing? Did he just push her away because I came in? Was she trying to make a move on him? Did he want her to?
Gray jumps to his feet. “Isabella!”
My voice comes out small. “Am I… interrupting something?” I can’t look either of them in the eye. I feel like an ant squashed on the sidewalk.
“Yes, you are.” Lilly pulls the hem of her top down and straightens out her skirt. “It’s time we admitted what’s going on, don’t you think? You’re using Gray for his money.”
“Be quiet,” Gray growls then rushes to me. “Isabella, I care for you very deeply. Lillia was pushing herself on me.” He reaches out to me. “An unwelcome advance.”
I step back. I swallow and try to make my voice even. “Your love life is none of my business, Gray. We have a deal, that’s all.”
“Aha!” Lilly says. She hurries up to us, her face full of excited malice. “I knew it! See, Gray? She doesn’t love you at all. She’s here for the money.” She touches me on the arm, such a gentle touch. I feel a jolt of horrible electricity go through me. I jerk away. “There’s something you don’t know about Gray, Isabella,” Lilly says gently. “He’s still in love with me.”
“Get out!” Gray hollers.
She jumps. We both do. The command in his voice would put fear in the bravest warrior. She backs away slowly toward the door, but keeps talking in that eerily soft voice. “He won’t admit it now, but he does. And the truth always come out, to everyone. Especially people we try to hide it from. Like solicitors.”
Then she turns and walks away.
My head spins. I try to catch my breath, but it sticks in my throat. I have to get out. I run out of the side door that leads onto the manicured gardens.
“Isabella, wait!” Gray’s coming after me.
But I keep walking, my head held high. If I don’t, I feel I’ll collapse. I have to keep walking. Keep walking. Keep walking. To where? I don’t know. I just walk. The path juts in angular corners around sculpted bushes and fountains and the like.
“What Lilly said, it’s not true at all.”
I feel numb. “She said you’re in denial. Maybe you’re denying it to yourself, too.” I speed up.
“How could you be such an ass to believe I love her. Her?”
“There’s nothing particularly wrong with her,” I say coldly. “She doesn’t have many scruples. But neither do you.”
His voice comes out like so many razor blades. It’s a wonder they don’t cut his throat on the way up. “You think you’re so damn perfect. You think you’re above me. Well, newsflash, you need me. You need me or your father’s business will die.”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant to this conversation.” What is this conversation even about? My thoughts tie themselves in knots I could never hope to unpick.
He hurries to the front of me and walks backward, trying to get eye contact. I stare resolutely past him, like he doesn’t even exist.
“Stop running away!”
“I’m not running away, I’m preserving myself. This is all too much drama. I’m just going to keep my head down until this thirty days is over, and then you’ll never see me again.”
He stops dead. All the light drains out of his eyes. “Is that what you want?”
No. I stare at a faraway bush. “Yes.”
He shakes his head and wedges the toe of his expensive shoe in the gravel in a stabbing motion. “Then you’re a real scheming witch after all.”
“Excuse me?” I stare right at him.
He holds my eye contact without wavering. His deep brown eyes shoot daggers at me. “You heard.”
“We had our deal! Get the money and stop the pretense. Wasn’t that our deal, Grayson?”
“Yes.” He glares. “But you know as well as I do that there are two deals at play here.”
I crease my brow. I dread what he’s going to say. I hope I’ve got him wrong, and he’s going to come out with something else. “I’m not following.”
“So when I gave you the best sex of your life, that was part of the money deal, was it? When you called me ‘darling’ in the hotel, that was part of the money deal, right?”
I stammer. “Well. Well, you did say we have to pretend to be together.”
“In front of other people. There was no one there. No one except me and you.”
I can’t even look at him. “Maybe the boundaries got blurred. Like, I had pretended so much outside that it just slipped out.”
He stares me down. “So, you’re telling me it meant nothing?”
Oh fuck. My chest is squeezing tight. Why does this have to be happening? Why is he speaking all our unspoken secrets? “I don’t know.”
“Well, I know,” he says. “It meant something. You’re not that good an actress. Drama was always your worst subject.”
I stare back at him, not knowing what to say.
Then a horrible look crosses over his face. “Unless…” He looks at me, horrified. “That book…”
“What? What book?”
“Oh, you know the one,” he says with venom. “The one you downloaded just after we met, about how to control men’s minds or little fingers or whatever the fuck you get off on.”
How does he know about that? “What I read is none of your business.”
He steps back, crosses his arms, and looks at me with those intense brown eyes. He’s watching my every move. “It’s not?”
“Gray, thirty seconds ago you were acting like a complete douche monkey and you’re demanding answers from me, right now? You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m not interested in having this conversation with you.”
He snorts. “You act like what I do is the worst fucking thing in the world, then go and try to manipulate me right back. Here I was thinking you were the sweet, innocent one.”
“I’m not. I’m the sour, strong one,” I reply, even though my heart’s skipping beats now.
“Sit with me,” he says. “Let’s talk about this, Isabella. Please?”
The “please” sways me. Gray should be too much of an asshole to use that word.
I follow him over to the bench, which is next to a square ornamental pond. I’m walking into the dark. Into the unknown. It’s terrifying.
He sits then nods to where I should sit. I do. Then he gives me a pointed look. “Talk. Or are you going to pretend you have no idea about this book? I’m the king of bullshitting, you know. Or I was. Anyway, don’t try me. I’ll see right through any lies.”
“Not that it matters, but I downloaded the book right after we made our deal.”
“Why?” he shoots at me. “You didn’t need to control me. We had our
money deal.”
“Yeah, but you were so…” I can’t find the right word. I shouldn’t even explain this to him, he’s pissed me off so bad, but I want to. I want it out – because manipulation has pretty much always been beyond me. “I was kind of scared of you, I guess.”
“What? Like you thought I was going to hit you or something?”
“No.” I laugh at that. “No, I mean, it’s like you were playing games with my mind. Trying to get me under your control.”
He shrugs. “I was just treating you how I treat all women.”
Pff. “That figures.”
“But you’re not like all women,” he says. “You’re different. You’re special.”
“Not this again. I told you already, I know you tell all women that. And, you know what? Since when is it a compliment to be told I’m not like other women? I like being a woman. I like being like other women. Special, maybe, sure, that’s okay, but don’t insult all women just to compliment me. That makes me think you’re an asshole.”
“I – fuck.” He takes his hand and lifts my chin until I have to meet his eyes. “I really care for you, Isabella.”
I feel my heart starting to slip. I shake my head away from his grasp. “Look, I care for you, too,” I say in a businesslike tone. “But it’s never going to work between us. You like fun too much. I’m too serious for you. We should just be friends, OK? That would be fine. No sex anymore, though. It’s too confusing. We’ll do all the fake stuff, you know, the whole fake engagement thing, and then we’ll go our separate ways.” I look up at him then back down. “I don’t want it to be like this. But we have to face reality.”
“Come here.” He holds his arms out.
I want to. “No.”
“Come on.”
