Dealing in Deception

by Samantha Joyce

  I looked to Ian and a smile overtook his face. “Who am I to say no to the man who saved my boy’s life? Of course, whatever we can do.”

  “Wonderful. Now, I need to go find Veronica before she leaves town.”

  “Good luck!” Connor said. “I begged her not to go. Maybe she’ll listen to you.”

  “I hope so, bud. I hope so.”

  I careened down the hall with Ari following close, stopping only to grab my coat, and ran out the back of the shelter to where Rickie’s truck sat. Her vehicle was a sad-looking blue pickup that had once been a Ford but, as the r had fallen off ages ago, was now just a Fo’d.

  The cab was colder than the outside, and sitting on the leather seats was what I imagined it would feel like to plant my ass on a block of ice. Ari hopped in after me, stepping over my lap to get to the passenger seat. He sat his furry butt on the leather and looked at me as if to say, What the hell are we waiting for, doofus?

  “You’re right, my friend. Let’s go get her.” I plunged the key into the ignition, thanking the automotive gods when the truck choked and then sputtered to life.

  The drive to Veronica’s loft took forever. First, because I could only drive so fast on the slush-covered roads, and second, because the truck kept stalling on me, and I’d have to ignore the curses and honks of the drivers behind me as I turned the ignition until the truck’s breath returned.

  Ari tagged along as I rode the elevator to the twentieth floor of Veronica’s building and ambled down the hall, cursing under my breath as I approached her door. It sat ajar, light spilling between the dark wood and the frame.

  Not a good sign.

  “Veronica?” I nudged the door open with my shoulder, and Ari trotted in like he owned the place. He stood in the middle of the living room, sniffed the air, then whimpered.

  I called for Veronica again, peering into rooms, which were just as bare as when she lived there. The sight of the empty bathroom countertop sent my heart plummeting to the fancy marble floor. No fragrances or tubes of lipstick cluttered the sink. The pillaged closets confirmed my fears: Veronica was gone.

  By the time I returned to the living room, Ari had made himself comfortable on Veronica’s couch, curled against a corner.

  “Sorry, bud. She’s not here. We gotta go.”

  I swallowed as the bookshelf caught my eye. The souvenirs I’d gotten her around the city. She’d left them all behind. All except one. A small gap sat between the replica of the White House and the mini reproduction of the Declaration of Independence.

  She’d taken the Lincoln Memorial with her.

  A wet nose nudged between my fingers. I patted Ari as I analyzed the space on the shelf. Veronica didn’t strike me as the sentimental type, but she was also at a point where she had a big decision to make. Run away again and keep doing what she’d always done, or stay in DC and try to make this life work. I knew where I went when I had to think things over.

  Ari followed me out of the apartment and to the elevators. Mashing the Down button, I shook my head at the thought that Veronica would still be in town, much less in the one place that meant the most to me. It was possible I was chasing a Chanel-clad ghost. But I had to try.

  The frigid air had kept most people inside, so I managed to find parking somewhat easily. The snow crunching under my boots was the only sound as I headed down the National Mall, past the Reflecting Pool—which now resembled a reflecting ice rink—and up the stairs of the Lincoln Memorial.

  I reached the top of the stairs, my breath white, smoking bursts in the air.

  Veronica stood in front of the huge statue of Lincoln, her head tilted up at him. Even though she faced the opposite direction, I knew it was her. There was no mistaking the shimmering onyx hair, or the way her curves filled out the formfitting red coat. She bounced on heeled boots to keep herself warm, whispering something I couldn’t quite hear under her breath.

  As I tried to figure out how to get my mouth to say something that would make her stay, Ari darted through my legs and planted his butt on Veronica’s feet.

  “Ari?” she asked, bending down to pat his head. “Is that you? But that must mean . . .” She turned, and her eyes widened when she spotted me.

  “Hey,” I said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  She looked back at the statue as Ari licked her hand. “You said you came here when you were overwhelmed. You said it helped you think.”

  “It does.” I stepped up beside her. “What were you thinking about?”

  “Everything. Me . . . you . . . but mostly me. I’ve spent so long being other people, I needed to figure out who I really am.”

  I faced the statue, afraid to meet her eyes. “You find anything out?”

  “Yeah. I know I like dogs and kids and sleeping in.” She scratched Ari behind his ear and he gave a happy whine. “And I hate red wine now, and I’ve never liked pumpkin spice anything, and I really do not get football.”

  I laughed. “That’s fair.”

  “I used to think expensive things shielded me from my past like armor, but all they did was help me play pretend. Once they were stripped away, I was still this scared girl who never knew her mother and missed her brother, and who was so scared to let anyone in, she did everything she could to keep everyone at a safe distance. “

  Ari walked in a circle and flopped down between us.

  Veronica turned toward me. “And I found out one more thing.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “That I’m completely in love with a man I never would’ve believed I’d end up with. He’s handsome, smart, and kind, and he’s dynamite in bed. He puts others before himself so often, he sometimes forgets to speak up for what he wants. And even if he doesn’t change the whole world like he wants, he’s changed my world, and I’ll be forever grateful to him for that.”

  “He sounds like a pretty good guy.”

  “He is.” She moved as close as Ari’s body would allow. Even with our feet separated by the dog, we managed to tilt forward enough to lean our foreheads together. “I’m so glad you found me.”

  “Me, too.” Our lips almost touched, so close I could smell her cherry lip balm. “I saw the memorial missing from your shelf and just thought maybe . . .” I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. “You . . . you donated the money I paid you to the shelter.”

  “Bax, you were never just a client to me. I needed you to know that.”

  “I do. And I need you to know that nothing would’ve ever happened with Clare. Because I was already in love with someone else.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” My lips whispered against hers.

  “Nothing happened with Panick, either. I was also already in love with someone else.”

  “You mentioned it earlier. Awesome Guy.”

  “Bax?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Would you shut up and just kiss me already?”

  Warmth spread through me, extinguishing all traces of the cold. “God, I love it when you get bossy.”

  She grabbed my lapels and smashed her mouth into mine.

  Yeah, I really liked it when she got bossy.

  • • •

  We barely made it into my apartment before I had her clothes off. Ari tried to follow us into the bedroom, but I shut the door on him, informing him about the importance of quality adult time. Veronica laughed and grabbed my hand, the sight of her without clothes completely shutting down my thought process.

  I kissed her with every ache and need building through my body and piling onto my lips. Pressing her into the back of the door, I trailed my lips down her neck and to her breasts. She moaned as I licked and nipped at her; then she pulled my sweater over my head and tossed it onto the floor. My pants and boxers quickly followed. I stopped only to grab a condom from the desk near the door and slip it on.

 
I hiked her up, and she wrapped her legs around my waist, my arms and the back of the door the only things keeping her suspended. I plunged into her, our bodies rattling the door on its hinges.

  She was warm and welcoming as I rocked in and out of her. “Oh my God, Veronica,” I said. “I want to spend the rest of my life inside of you.”

  “I think we can arrange something,” she purred against my ear.

  The room became nothing but heat and sweat and moans, and I was lost in her. Her scent, her voice, her body. I absorbed it all like she was the sun and I wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing.

  When we were done, we collapsed onto my bed, exhausted and glistening with sweat. I turned onto my side and propped my head up on my elbow, admiring the view she gave me. I walked my fingers up and down her stomach.

  “You know how you said I sometimes don’t speak up about what I want because I’m too involved in everyone else’s needs?”

  She closed her eyes as I stroked her. “Yes.”

  “I know what I want now.”

  “Oh?” She peeked out of one eye.

  “It’s you, Veronica Wilde, and I will damn well fight for you for the rest of my life.”

  “You know this still doesn’t change who I am, right, Bax? No flowers or chocolates or cheesy crap like that. And I’m still going to do and say things that piss you off. It’s part of my charm.”

  I planted my palm against her skin. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Veronica

  The wedding was a lavish affair, complete with flowers decorating every inch of the church, pink silk bows lining the pews, and glitter absolutely everywhere. Basically, it was everything I never wanted in a wedding.

  Thank God it wasn’t mine.

  I wrinkled my nose at the overwhelming florals and straightened my ginger wig before scanning the guests for my date. All I knew about him from his text was that he was a blond, and he’d be wearing a purple rose on his lapel.

  A guy fitting that exact description skulked in the back row, darting glances around the church like he knew he didn’t belong. To be fair, neither of us did, but getting in was the job.

  So far, so good.

  Smoothing my silver, body-hugging dress, I slid into the pew and pressed against the stranger. He wore a suit straight out of the Calvin Klein catalogue, gray with darker pinstripes that shimmered when the light hit them. His aviator shades hid his eyes from me, but beyond the almost laughable mop of blond hair, he was decent-looking. He also reeked of money. His cologne and the tailoring of his suit screamed millionaire.

  Exactly my type.

  “Hey.” I held out my hand, forming my crimson lips into my most kittenish pout. “Jules Adams.”

  He enveloped my fingers in his sweaty palm. “Ferdinand Fluglemeister.”

  “I’m sorry?” I reeled my head back.

  “Ferdinand—”

  “No, I heard you the first time.” I dropped his hand and pried off the sunglasses, the sight of those familiar gray eyes sending a rush through my body. “Bax, you’re really terrible at this.”

  His lips twitched in the way that always drove me wild. “Hey, I did pretty good.”

  “With a blond wig so eighties it looks like you stole it off that kid from Saved by the Bell and a name like Ferdinand Fluglemeister?”

  “I think I look good.” Bax ran his fingers through the ridiculous hair. “And I got in, didn’t I? Ferdinand Fluglemeister gets things done. I do believe you owe me twenty bucks.”

  Sighing, I reached into my purse and pulled out a bill. “I guess I know when I’m beat.” I paused before the cash hit his palm. “Wait, you totally used your real name to get in, didn’t you?”

  “Uh . . . maybe . . . ?”

  “Cheater!” I swatted his shoulder and shoved the money back into my purse. “The whole point of the bet was to see if you were as good as me when it came to sneaking into VIP events.”

  “Come on, V, no one’s as good as you. At anything.” He ran his hand up and down my thigh, sending tingles between my legs.

  “True. But still, using your prestige is a cheater move.”

  Eight months had passed since the day Bax had found me at the memorial. In that time, his life had taken a drastic turn. First, the local hospitals bought out his initial run of blankets. Then some scientists heading to the Arctic followed suit. People started to take notice. The mayor asked to meet with him to discuss how to get the blankets to the homeless. Other cities from all over the world came calling.

  The press took notice, pasting his picture on the covers Time and People. They deemed him the year’s youngest, most successful entrepreneur. Women started hitting on him everywhere we went, and I chased them off with a few snide comments and the threat of a fancy shoe to the head.

  We traveled all over, building factories and meeting with shelters and city officials. The blankets couldn’t be produced fast enough. We still hadn’t exactly solved the homeless problem, but we were making a difference, and that was all that mattered.

  I stayed on as Bax’s partner, both in the business and in life. We moved into my loft, and Bax and Ari wasted no time filling the shelves and the furniture with knickknacks and dog hair. The place had never looked better.

  We’d come to Los Angeles to meet with the governor, and at the same time we’d made the plans, a wedding invitation had arrived in the mail. The wedding happened to be in the same city as our meeting. It was perfect timing.

  “Besides,” Bax said, holding up the pink invitation, “we are on the guest list.” He pulled the wig off his head and finger-combed his wavy locks.

  “I still don’t know why,” I said, following suit and shaking out my own hair. “I mean, I dated the groom and pretty much made the bride’s life a living hell.”

  “Well, she obviously forgives you.”

  “I owe her a pretty big apology.”

  He patted my knee. “Maybe wait till after the wedding.”

  The organist plunked out a power chord and the entire congregation stood. They faced the back at the exact same time, like soldiers in a drill.

  One of the maids of honor, a curvy girl squished into a cerise gown, flounced down the aisle. She waved at people as she passed, blowing a kiss to a man in the front row with a cowboy hat that shadowed his face before standing at the front of the church. I’d met both of them before, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember their names.

  The second maid of honor was actually a dude—a man of honor, according to the scripted font in the program. Asian, with pink-tipped hair that matched the maid of honor’s dress, he wore a suit with a sparkling silver tie. He practically glided down the aisle, stopping to give a kiss to a spiky-haired boy on the other side of the cowboy. Then he took his place next to the curvy girl.

  The groom entered from a door near the front, and the women of the room gave a collective sigh. No longer would heartthrob Gavin Hartley be single.

  Gavin’s face brightened, and murmurs whispered through the crowd. I followed Gavin’s gaze and gasped myself.

  Elise radiated happiness as she took the aisle with confident strides. Her golden hair had been pulled into a knot at her neck with a veil pinned above it. Her dress fit tight at the top, with a sweetheart neck and flared princess skirt. The makeup artist had used a gentle hand, using pinks and silvers to accent her blue eyes and plump her pink lips. Elise never took her eyes off Gavin as she met him at the altar. Of course, why would she? The guy was pretty damn easy on the eyes under normal circumstances. In a tux, he was practically a lethal weapon.

  “Should I be jealous?” Bax whispered from the side of his mouth. “You keep staring at him.”

  “He’s pretty,” I said in a hushed tone, looping my arm through his. “But I found a better match.”

  Beyond the entrance music, the wedding was a mostly silent affair,
with the bride and the groom exchanging vows through sign language, and the rest of us guessing everything that was happening based on their body language alone. Their kiss lasted a full minute, and most of the crowd hooted and hollered, but I could’ve sworn I heard a woman sobbing behind me about Gavin being off the market.

  The reception was in a hall a few blocks away, decorated as extravagantly as the church. We ate a too-big meal, chatted with famous strangers, and drank wine until our heads felt fuzzy.

  When Bax finally pulled me to the dance floor and clasped me to his body, an easy bliss settled over me, partly due to the wine and partly due to the way I fit against his body like I was meant to stay there.

  “They’re really in love,” Bax said, glancing over my shoulder at the bride and groom.

  “They are. I’m happy for them.” I rested my head on his chest. “You know our wedding will be nothing like this, right?”

  Bax cradled my left hand and studied the diamond ring on my finger. “No? You don’t want doves in silver top hats?”

  “God, no.” I laughed. “Though I still have no idea how they got those hats onto the birds.”

  “I heard the man of honor came up with most of this.”

  “Remind me not to call him.”

  Bax held me closer, so there wasn’t an inch of space between us. “Duly noted.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the DJ called over his microphone, “please welcome Mr. and Mrs. Hartley to the dance floor for the bouquet and garter toss.”

  We left the wooden floor as the single women scattered and squawked like birds fighting for bread crumbs.

  “You aren’t going for the bouquet?” Bax asked.

  I leaned my head on his shoulder, eyeing the commotion. “I’m pretty good with what I got.”

  “Hey.” He kissed the top of my head. “I’ve been meaning to ask, are you gonna change your name when we get married?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. It was a valid question, and one I’d considered deeply since he’d proposed in bed at the loft a month ago.

  “No,” I said, drawing out the word. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to stick with my own name. It’s taken me a long time, but I finally feel like it’s mine.”