“Right,” she said. “My blond twin sister. But Scott knows the truth. And what if some of your old coworkers recognize me?”
“Scott’s not going to say anything to upset his fiancée. And you were in a blond wig, and his coworkers were hammered last time they saw you. Trust me, they won’t remember.” I took her hand and opened the door without knocking. “It’ll be fine. Besides, I have to show. Not only am I the best man, they want to congratulate me on my deal, too. And you’re my partner. It makes total sense you’d be here.”
“I suppose. But if Ally tries to stab me with an ice pick, I’m bolting.”
“That’s fair.”
“Baxter! You made it!” Scott greeted me with a handshake and a pat on the back. “Everyone! My best man’s here!” The room responded with a resounding “Cheers!”
“Congrats, man,” I said, returning the back pat. I tugged Veronica closer. “You remember Veronica?”
Scott’s eyes widened behind his glasses as Ally came up behind him. She bobbed her head at me and glared at my date. Veronica might not have been too off on her ice-pick assumption.
“Hey,” Veronica said. “Congratulations.” She thrust her hand forward.
Scott reached for her, but Ally touched his arm and he grabbed his wrist back like he’d been about to stick it in acid.
“We didn’t know you’d be bringing a plus-one, Baxter,” Ally said.
“Well, you said you wanted to congratulate me on my deal, and Veronica is the reason it happened.” I wrapped my arm around her waist. “She’s also my date.”
Ally’s eyes narrowed so far, if this had been a sci-fi movie, lasers might’ve shot from them. “Humph. Well, good for you both. We need to go mingle with the rest of the guests. Scottie?” She tapped him on the shoulder in a bid for him to follow her. He gave me an apologetic glance and trailed her through the crowd.
“I thought he hated being called Scottie,” I said.
“He did.” Veronica tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Until Rachel insisted on calling him that. Look, I really don’t think Allison buys the sister thing. Maybe I should go.”
“No way.” I pulled her close, so our hips touched. “I can’t endure this stuffy party without you. I don’t even think they have beer. All I see is wine.”
Veronica laughed. “Poor baby, stuck drinking Chardonnay instead of Bud. Fine, we’ll stay for a few hours.” She stood on tiptoe and whispered in my ear. “But just so you know, under this boring outfit, I’m wearing that black bra and thong you like so much.”
I ground my jaw and swallowed. “That’s not really playing fair.”
“Just something to keep your imagination entertained tonight. I’ll go grab us some wine.”
She sauntered away with hips swinging, tossing a wink over her shoulder. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to grab her, throw her over my shoulder, and carry her back to my place to get an eyeful of that lingerie.
We did the meet-and-greet thing, me introducing her to my former coworkers, and them staring at her like they knew her from somewhere but weren’t sure where. When she wasn’t by my side, I watched her from across the room, counting down the minutes till enough time had gone by so I could appropriately take her home and get her naked. Every minute was a minute too long.
Thoughts of Veronica in lingerie and the overcrowded apartment heated my body to the point where sweat dripped down my neck. I escaped onto the porch, closing my eyes against the crisp air.
“Hey, dude.” Scott tottered out to me. He’d obviously partaken of most of the wine. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just got a little warm in there. How about you? Did you drink half the bar, dude?”
Scott laughed, his voice deep and garbled. “Maybe. No one told me how stressful it is to be engaged. I hate these things.”
“It’ll be a million times worse at the wedding, buddy.”
“Don’t remind me.” He polished off his wine and set the glass on the edge of a metal table. “So, Veronica, dude. What’s happening there? I thought you hired her to help your business.”
He moved so close, I could smell the fermented grapes on his breath.
“I did. But . . . it sorta went beyond that.”
“Well, she’s smokin’, I’ll give you that. She must be incredible in bed.”
I gripped the edge of the balcony, my eyes on the flickering lights of the city. “Yeah, I’m not talking about that with you, bud.”
“Aw, come on. Isn’t that why you’d be with a woman like that? To fuck her? It can’t be to have a good conversation. We both know she’s a bitch.”
My knuckles went white around the railing. “I’m gonna let that slide because you’ve obviously had too much to drink. But you should shut up now.”
“Whoa. Wait.” He took a wobbly step back. “Don’t tell me you actually like this chick?”
“I do. A lot, actually.”
He placed a sweaty hand on my cold fingers. “Bax, I say this as a friend, but you need to listen to yourself. This woman is a professional liar.”
“I know what she does. And I like her anyway. I don’t care, Scott. What she does isn’t her. It’s all acting.”
“Look.” He blew out a sour breath. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m saying this as your friend. I watched you mourn Clare for a whole year. I don’t want to see you get hurt again. Use this Veronica chick for whatever you want. Have some fun—God knows you deserve it after the year you’ve had—but don’t fool yourself into believing this goes beyond that. That isn’t the kind of woman you marry and live happily ever with. She’s the kind of woman you fuck until the right one comes along.”
A voice cleared behind us, and I turned to find Veronica behind us, her body rigid and her face pale. “Uh, they wanted you guys inside for toasts. And I . . . I forgot I have somewhere to be tonight. I . . . I gotta go.” She spun and fled to the front door.
“Dammit. Veronica—” I moved to chase after her, but Scott pulled me back. Anger flared, hot like a branding iron, through me. “Scott, you’d better let me go. If she thinks any of that’s true . . .”
“Bax, I’m trying to be a friend, here. I didn’t want to tell you this, but I’ve heard things about her.”
“I don’t give a shit what you heard.”
“Listen to me, okay? The guy that referred me to her was a client. Francesco Stribani. You know the name, big Wall Street guy, right? He hired her to help him get his wife interested again. And it worked great.” He tightened his grip on my wrist, still sweating despite the winter wind that lashed at us. “Until she seduced him. Came to him half-naked and pleading. He slept with her once, and he admitted it was a mistake. But she blackmailed him. Threatened to tell his wife the truth unless he paid her more money.”
I frowned. “That sounds like an impressive pile of bullshit to me. She’s not like that.”
“It’s not bullshit.” Scott spoke right into my ear as he wavered from side to side. “Dude, he came to my office with a broken nose and black eye. When he refused to pay her off, she punched him in the face. She’s wild, man. Violent and unpredictable. And all she cares about is money. Now that you’re getting this huge deal, no wonder she’s clinging to you . . .”
His voice faded with the wind as I recalled the night of the gala. Veronica had freaked out when she’d seen that guy with the bandage on his nose. But not in a way that made me think she’d blackmailed him. She hadn’t let me touch her. She’d had a bloody dress in her trash. My fingers curled as I put two and two together.
“That client of yours is spouting lies,” I said. “She didn’t blackmail him. He hurt her, man, and she was only defending herself. He’s a rapist.”
“Bax, listen to yourself! You’re defending a girl who loves to make people’s lives miserable. She’ll do the same with you. She’s nothing but a money-grubbing
slu—”
My fist connected with his jaw and cut him off. Pain racked my knuckles and wrist. Scott stumbled back, clutching his mouth, and Ally screamed from inside before running out to the balcony.
“Bax, what the hell?” She kneeled beside her fiancée as he sawed his jaw back and forth, wincing.
“Scott can fill you in.” I shook my stinging hand. “I’m going to find my date.”
“You know you’re not the best man anymore, right?” Ally called after me.
“Yup,” I mumbled, grabbing my and Veronica’s coats off the pile in the bedroom. “Not here, but I am where it counts.”
Ally and Scott lived on the seventh floor, so I bypassed the elevator and shot down the stairs, taking them two at a time. God, I hoped I could catch her.
My body sagged with relief when I spotted Veronica’s dark hair at the lobby door, where she was still waiting for a cab.
“Veronica!” She turned at my voice, which came out in bursts following my run down the stairs. “I’m. Sorry. He’s . . . wrong.” I bent over, my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. “None of that is true.”
“He’s not, Bax. This last week . . . it’s been like a dream. We—wait, what happened to your hand?”
I followed her gaze to my bloody knuckles. “I might’ve punched Scott in the face.”
“Jeez, Bax.” She examined my fingers. “Well, they don’t look broken, at least. Ice it when you get home. You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Of course I should’ve. The things he said weren’t right.”
“They were, though.” She touched my face. “It’s sweet you have this fantasy that what we have is long-term, but we both know that’s not true.”
I pulled back. That was fucking news to me. “We do?”
“Come on, we’ve spent the last week playing house.” She gestured to our reflection in the glass doors. “That isn’t who we are. I mean, you just punched your best friend in the face, and I’m wearing flats. Flats, Bax.”
“What are you saying? You don’t want to be with me?”
She stared at her shoes. “I . . . I don’t know. So much happened recently, with my mom dying, you getting your deal . . . and other things.”
“Francesco Stribani?”
Her head whipped up, her hair bouncing off her shoulders. “How did you know about him?”
“I found your dress in the trash the night I brought you home from the bar. Did he . . . ?”
“No . . .” She shook her head. “He almost . . . but I stopped him.”
I stepped forward. “I’m okay taking things slow, if that’s what you need. But what we have here is so freaking good, Veronica. Don’t throw it away because it’s new and scary.”
“I’m not, Bax.” A yellow cab pulled up outside and the driver bleated the horn. “But I need some time. I feel like I lost myself, and I was never sure who that was in the first place. I can’t figure it out with you there. You’re too much of a distraction.” She cupped my face. “And you’re too good for me.”
I wrapped my fingers around her wrist, my throat tightening. “We both know that’s not true. But if you need time to figure that out, you can have it.” I kissed her softly and met her eyes. “Just don’t take too long, okay? Another woman might snatch me up.”
“I wouldn’t blame her.” She ran her thumb along my bottom lip and kissed me again. The cabdriver gave another warning honk. “I’d better go. I’ll see you soon, Bax.”
“Yeah. ’Bye, Veronica.”
I wrapped her jacket over her shoulders and walked her to the cab, then watched her disappear in the darkness, my heart riding away with her.
Veronica
The night after I’d said good-bye to Bax, I scurried down the street in an outfit he would’ve chastised me for. The tight orange minidress did nothing to stop the wind from whistling against my skin, raising goose bumps in its wake. I bypassed the two-block line of shivering people waiting to get into the club, and thrust my chest out at the doorman. He waved me through after a moment of ogling my legs and boobs. Doormen were so easy.
The thumping bass of some Top 40 dance song and the bodies writhing on the dance floor calmed me. This was my crowd. Sex, alcohol, and no consequences. I grabbed a seat at the bar and caught the bartender’s attention with a flirty wink (bartenders were also easy). By the time I’d downed my second whiskey, not only had I shaken off the winter chill, I felt more like myself than I had in weeks.
Bax had thought it was Scottie’s words that had upset me at the party, but I’d been more freaked out by the way Bax had defended me. How he couldn’t see who I really was. I was exactly the woman Scottie had described. Hell, I’d used those same words to describe myself in the past.
And then I’d seen my reflection in the living room mirror. A sensible blouse, barely any makeup, wavy hair I hadn’t bothered to straighten. I didn’t recognize that woman. That woman was boring. She drank wine and chatted with accountants about the weather. She missed Bax when he wasn’t around. She cried about her past instead of ignoring it. She was afraid of everything. She was vulnerable. That was when I’d realized that being with Bax had changed me. He’d softened me like butter left on the counter for too long.
I liked the woman I’d been before Bax, before Frank and his grimy hands. She knew who she was. She didn’t care if she was alone. She could have anything, anyone she desired. She could be anyone she wanted to be. She could get up and leave at any time and start all over somewhere new. That woman didn’t have to answer to anyone but herself, and she definitely wasn’t vulnerable. Who would willingly give that up?
I gulped down another whiskey as I pushed these thoughts away, and ordered one more.
“Silvia?” A throaty voice growled behind me. “No fucking way! What are you doing here?”
I swiveled on my bar stool to find Panick Slade eyeing me. He wore leather pants that didn’t leave his ample goods to the imagination and a red shirt, unbuttoned almost all the way. His tribal tattoos peeked through the opening at his chest.
Right. He’d texted me a few days before that his band would be in town for some concert for the president or something. I’d read in the tabloids that his girlfriend had left him and that he was having tons of fun partying without her. Which was why, with Bax sleeping peacefully beside me, I’d quickly deleted the text.
But now I was alone. And I had the chance to prove to myself exactly who I was. If anyone reminded me of my former self, it was the Rock God in front of me.
“Hey, Rock God,” I purred, polishing off my drink. “I was looking for you, of course.”
He licked his lips, trailing his gaze over my body. “You’re looking good tonight. I’m glad you found me. Let’s dance.”
I hopped off the bar stool onto wobbly legs and leaned on his broad shoulder. With a grin, he led me to the dance floor and twirled me so my back was against his chest. He wrapped his arm around me, securing me to him. The room spun as the whiskey kicked in, and my body heated as we moved together. I ground my hips into him and he growled and gripped my waist, pulling me closer. He wanted me, and it felt damn good to be wanted by a rock star. Wrapping my hands behind his neck, I closed my eyes and swayed with him as his hands roamed my body over the thin fabric of my dress.
Bax’s name repeated in my head with every thump of the beat, and I tried to push away the strange feeling—was that guilt?—that coursed through me. None of that mattered. This was me. I wasn’t a one-man kind of girl. I wanted the best things in life. I’d worked hard for that. Bax knew that. I knew that. This would always be me.
“Hey,” Panick whispered in my ear, his voice thick with alcohol and lust, “we’re having a private party back at our hotel. Wanna come? We could try to find some time alone.” He nibbled on my ear.
“Sure,” I said in a matching husky voice. “Let’s go.”
We exited the too-hot club and got into a stretch limo with his other bandmates. They’d managed to find dates at the club, too, and the backseat was full of so much making out, it reminded me of a high school prom.
Panick kissed my neck and ears, struggling to reach my lips. But every time he got close, something made me pull away. I gritted my teeth as Panick licked my collarbone.
Fucking Baxter. Here I had this insanely hot rock god trying to shove his tongue down my throat, and all I could think of was the way Bax’s mouth curled when I said something that made him laugh. Or how his eyes brightened like those of a kid on Christmas morning when I wore nothing at all.
By the time we got up to the hotel room, I needed another drink. I blindly pulled tiny bottles from the minibar and poured them down my throat, reveling in the numbness that followed.
I swayed from side to side as I maneuvered to the couch in the center of the room and practically fell onto the white cushions.
“Omigod, can you believe we’re here?” A fake blonde with a voice like a Disney princess flopped beside me. “I mean, we’re in the hotel room of the Screeching Monkeys!”
“Yeah, it’s really something,” I said, rolling a tiny bottle of tequila in my hand. “I take it this is your first time partying with rock stars?”
“Of course.” Her already impossibly wide eyes somehow widened further. “You mean, you’ve done this before?”
“A few times, yeah.”
“Omigod, tell me everything!”
I scrunched up my face. “It’s not as exciting as it sounds. You know you’re not going to be their girlfriend or anything, right? You aren’t here because they want to take you on tour and write songs about you. You’re just another body they can fuck and add to their list of women they’ve conquered.”
The smile fell off her face and smug satisfaction flooded me. That’s more like it.
Dealing in Deception Page 18
