by Zoey Parker
The restaurant was packed. Immediately, I wished that I’d worn something a bit dressier, but it didn’t stop men from staring at me as the maître d’ led us to our booth in the corner of the restaurant. Normally, I would have fussed over having such a shitty table, but something told me that our discussion this evening was better left private.
“Katia, you’re popular around here,” Dante said dryly. He reached for his water glass and drank greedily. “All of those men.” He glanced around. He was getting stares, too, but they were of a much different sort. I was surprised that he hadn’t been asked to put on a jacket while we had been standing in the lobby.
I shrugged. “I can’t help it,” I said delicately. “I’ve worked on building an image.”
Anya rolled her eyes. “Katia, even going through a crisis doesn’t change you,” she muttered.
“But you love me,” I said. I grinned at her, and a few seconds later, Anya smiled back.
“I do,” Anya replied. “God help me, but I do.”
“I’m fucking starving,” Dante complained just as a waiter dropped three heavy leather-bound menus on the table. “What’s good here?”
“I love the lamb tips, and the bouillabaisse is out of this world,” I gushed. “Oh, and the kale salad with peaches and sunflower seeds. It’s incredible, it’s like a taste of summer right in your mouth.”
Dante licked his lips. “I’d rather put something else in my mouth,” he said. He glanced at me, then quickly shifted his gaze down towards my lap. I blushed bright red as Anya lifted a finger in the air and scolded Dante like a schoolmarm.
“Just because I know about this does not mean I approve,” she said quickly. “Dante, the chicken parmesan is good, too. I can’t eat red meat so soon before bed though; it gives me the worst heartburn.”
Dante chuckled again. “I get that, too. It’s a real bitch.” Anya winced at the curse, but she didn’t say anything. When I looked up, she was staring at Dante so carefully that her eyes were patting down the seams of his clothing. I frowned. I wondered what her sudden interest in him was. Was she trying to make me jealous, somehow? Show me that he’d immediately fawn over any woman who paid attention to him?
“You people are old.” I wrinkled my nose. “I’ll have the lamb, probably, and a salad. I’m starving!”
“Between that omelet and my scone, I bet you’re famished,” Anya said dryly. I glared at her just as the waiter appeared.
Dante ordered wine for the table. I was surprised until the waiter had gone and he told me his trick: pick the second-most expensive wine. Dante’s rationale was that it was probably as good as the most expensive wine, only less popular because fewer people ordered it.
I burst out laughing. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” I said, shaking my head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Dante laughed. “I’m not,” he said. The wine arrived, and he poured mine, making sure I had a giant glass.
“Trying to get me drunk?”
Dante snorted. “Not exactly,” he said. He winked at me, and I felt my heart skid to a stop in my chest. Just staring at him for more than a few seconds was enough to make me feel all fuzzy and warm inside. I shivered at the memory of his touch on my bare skin, of his scent mingled with mine.
“Kids, enough,” Anya snapped. She stood up from the table and jerked her head towards the bathrooms. “Katia, would you?”
I pretended to groan as I stood up and followed Anya away. Being with Dante and Anya together was surprisingly fun. I felt like Dante and I were the naughty children that Anya was babysitting. I didn’t exactly like making jokes at her expense, but she was always good at making it seem like I hadn’t actually said anything too offensive.
The bathroom of Enchanted Wild was plush, done all in shades of purple and violet that reminded me of Gemma’s contacts. Anya pushed the door open and then leaned against it so no one else could come in.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” she said quietly. “I really shouldn’t have spoken to you about Dante like that.” She sighed, and I put my hands on my hips, smirking triumphantly.
“So, you’re telling me that you were wrong?”
Anya nodded. “I like him,” she admitted. “And I can tell he cares about you.”
I frowned. “So, what now?”
“I don’t know,” Anya admitted. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea if you pursue him. After all, your image is built on you being single. And if you want to compete in some of the older pageants, you can’t be married. That’s serious, Katia. If you even lie about a serious relationship, they’ll find out and blacklist you forever.”
I pouted. “I wasn’t even thinking about competing anymore, to be honest,” I said slowly. “I think I’m pretty happy with my life now.”
Anya nodded. “And there’s always the Mrs. California pageants if you change your mind.”
“Oh my God,” I groaned. “No fucking way do I want to compete with those Mom Barbies. I’d lose, and they wouldn’t be able to believe I was still single at twenty-seven.”
“So?” Anya leaned closer to the mirror and picked a small acne scar on her chin. “You wanna go back out there?”
I nodded, suddenly nervous. The fact that Anya had basically given me permission to date Dante changed everything. I was going to have to come to terms with the way I felt about him, especially now that my stalker was going to be imprisoned soon.
“I’m ready,” I said, practicing my most charming smile in the bathroom mirror. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Sixteen
Katia
When we got back to the table, Dante got a call after only a few seconds.
“Troy is here,” he explained. “He said that he’d come and meet me as soon as he had news.”
A burst of excitement exploded in my chest. I couldn’t believe that Dante was going to save the day. It was all happening so fast. I wanted to reach out and hug him, bury my face in his neck and inhale until his manly scent was the only thing left in the world. But that would have meant spilling a very expensive bottle of wine and also alienating Anya.
Instead, I flashed a smile at him. “Good,” I said sweetly. “Go get him. I’ll order more wine.”
Dante left and came back a few seconds later, followed by one of the most muscular men I’d ever seen. He was built like a pit bull, short and squat and bowlegged with close-cropped blond hair and brown eyes that flashed over the whole restaurant in a matter of seconds. It looked like he was capable of throwing me over his shoulder with the slightest flick of his brawny arm.
“This is Troy Morrow,” Dante said. He gestured towards Troy. “He’s my vice president, and he’s always been a real fuck of a stand-up guy.” He grinned, and I grinned back. Something about Dante’s smile always lured me in.
“Pleased to meet y’all,” Troy said, in a voice that made me think he was anything but a ‘stand-up guy.’ “Can I sit down?”
I nodded. “Have some wine. Dante ordered it. It’s really good.”
“Aw, I’m shocked,” Troy said gruffly. I couldn’t tell whether or not he was being sarcastic. Like Dante, he was wearing a plain black T-shirt, but he had regular blue jeans on that were covered with grease stains. There was a small hole at the knee, and I wondered if he’d been working on his bike or something equally manly when Dante had called.
After Troy had sat down, he and Dante leaned close and whispered a few words back and forth. Feeling out of place, I looked at Anya. I expected her to be cynical, rolling her eyes at the two bikers like she normally would. Instead, her face had an odd expression. Her hazel eyes were glowing, and one of her hands was working through tangles at the ends of her shoulder-length brown hair. Her eyes were glued to Troy. I watched as her mouth parted slightly, her breath coming out in damp bursts.
As discreetly as I could, I kicked Anya under the table.
“What the fuck?” Anya hissed. She scooted her chair closer to mine and leaned in. “What did you kick me for?�
�� She put on a wounded expression and leaned down to massage her calf.
“You’re staring at Troy,” I said under my breath in a singsong voice. “You think he’s cute.”
“It’s not that,” Anya said. She sat up straight and shook her brown hair around her face. “I’ve just never seen anyone that muscular in real life. I mean, is he even real?”
We both turned our faces towards Dante and Troy. Dante’s lean-yet-sculpted physique and Troy’s bulldog-ish frame together made them look like a pair of cartoon villains plotting a heist.
“I think he’s real,” I said with a giggle. “And I think you want to fuck him.”
Anya rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I do not.”
“You so do,” I said, grinning wickedly. “Good thing you came around to Dante. I think I have enough ammunition to keep you silent for the time being now!”
“Ladies,” Dante said. He gave me a charming smile. “What’re you being all secretive about?”
“Nothing,” I said coyly. I flicked my gaze over towards Anya. “But I think Anya would like to be introduced to Troy, don’t you?”
Dante chuckled, and I could tell he understood what I really meant. Beside me, Anya blushed bright red like a tomato.
“Troy, this is Katia Reynolds, of course,” Dante said. “And this is Anya Bellaire, her assistant.”
Troy’s gaze flicked over me and lingered on Anya, I noted with a smug kind of satisfaction. He extended his beefy arm over the table and shook my hand. His fingers were like pork sausages; I knew that he was probably capable of crushing my hand in his own if he really wanted to. But when he shook with Anya, his demeanor was different, almost shy. A grin spread across my face as I watched the way the two of them smiled at each other.
“So,” I said delicately. “Troy, Dante said that you’d stop by when you knew something.”
“Yeah.” Troy grunted. I couldn’t help smirking because I figured that most of his communication was done via grunting.
“Well? Do you have any ideas?”
“Yeah.” Troy grunted again. “This asshole, Ryan Winters.” He pulled out a battered phone from his leather jacket and slid it across the table towards me. I gasped when I saw the screen.
“He’s a judge,” I said, tapping his face on the screen. “At like, a thousand of the pageants I went to.” I picked up Troy’s phone and scrutinized the image. “God, I’d almost forgotten about him. He was such a creep!”
“You know this guy?” Dante’s jaw dropped. “You’ve seen him before?”
I nodded shakily. Thinking that Ryan Winters had been inside my house was such an unnerving thought that I almost lost my appetite.
“Yeah,” I said. “He was a judge and kind of an asshole.” I wrinkled my nose. “He disqualified me one time because I didn’t have a string bikini. He said that my bathing suit didn’t fit the guidelines, so he threw me out when I made a fuss over it.”
“God, what a pervert,” Anya said. She plucked Troy’s phone from my grasp and looked down at the screen with obvious interest. “I remember him!” Anya crowed. “I’ve seen him before at charity events.”
“Oh yeah?” Troy turned towards Anya with obvious interest. “Like what?”
Anya ticked them off on her fingers as she spoke. “Let’s see. Models Beyond Borders, Models for The Future, Models in Nature. Basically, everything that Katia’s ever been involved with, this guy has done.”
Troy nodded. “That sounds about right. And I did some intel on this asshole. He’s got a bogus nonprofit organization; supposedly some kind of scholarship shit for girls who want to be models and actresses.”
“What?” I wrinkled my nose. “Does this guy have any other interests besides models?”
“I don’t think so,” Troy said seriously. Dante snorted.
“She was kidding,” Dante added.
Troy frowned. “He’s been really involved with the L.A. scene for about fifteen years. Never been married, no kids. Perpetually single dude. I’ve looked into his tax records, and he spends most of his income in Vegas.”
“Doing what?” I asked.
“Brothels, mainly.”
I blushed. “God, sorry I asked.”
“So, you remember this guy?”
I nodded. “Unfortunately.” Closing my eyes, I could see him lurking on my eyelids like it was yesterday.
“What happened?”
I sighed. “It’s a long story,” I said carefully. “Can I have more wine?”
As Dante reached for my crystal glass and the bottle of merlot, I turned away and remembered a beauty pageant, about five years ago.
# # #
I’d been competing for years, and I’d already made my name as a high-status pageant girl. Between the money, the prizes, and the notoriety that I’d gained from competing, I was actually thinking about retiring. That was when I’d gotten the phone call; it was from some friend of Anya’s advertising a charity event. Aside from visiting the sick girls at the Children’s Hospital, I hadn’t yet gotten too deep in philanthropy. I was still finding my feet deciding what and who I wanted to spend my hard-earned pageant money on.
The event had been a pageant for preteen girls in L.A. All of the girls came from disadvantaged homes, and they were competing to win a scholarship to one of the best college-prep schools in L.A. The friend of Anya’s, a girl named Tiffy, had asked me to come judge. I was excited since I couldn’t remember the last time I did something that sounded fun, and actually tied into my interests of working with children one day.
The venue was one of the nicer hotels in Santa Monica. I drove by myself as I wasn’t at the point in my career where Anya accompanied me everywhere. I didn’t worry about being too safe back then. I drove an older convertible everywhere and loved being recognized on the streets. It was just starting to happen with some kind of regularity, and it was such an ego-boost for me to realize that people actually admired who I was.
The event, Miss Pre-Teen Scholarship, was pretty big. I made my way backstage, and that’s when I felt a hand clamp down on the small of my back.
“Oh my gosh!” I practically jumped into the air and covered my mouth with my hands.
When I turned around, I saw a chubby, shorter, older man. He was balding on top but still had hair around the sides of his head. He was wearing an obviously-expensive sweater vest in olive green, but it was also obviously too small for him by the way his arms bulged out of the sides. There were massive sweat stains on the armpits of his Oxford shirt, and his pants were cinched in so tightly that his belly hung over.
“Hey there,” he said smoothly like he was one of the best-looking guys on the planet. “Nice to meet you. Katia Reynolds?”
“Yes,” I said. I blushed because I was still flattered that he’d recognized me, even though he was so unattractive. Back then, I just liked being seen. It didn’t matter who was complimenting me. I just loved the attention.
“I’m Ryan Winters,” the man said in a greasy voice. He slipped his hand inside of mine and squeezed. I was repulsed. His hand was warm and baby-soft.
I didn’t show my disgust though. I merely smiled and pulled my hand away from Ryan’s as quickly as was socially acceptable.
“Nice to meet you,” I replied sweetly, assuming he was gay. He was probably a pageant judge, just like me; probably someone who had worked on movie crews and behind the scenes for most of his life.
Ryan smiled. “So, may I inquire as to what you’re doing after this?”
“Oh, gosh. I’m not sure! Maybe having lunch with my assistant Anya at Grapeyard & Vine. Have you been? Their goat cheese salad is so good!”
Ryan smirked, and suddenly I knew he wasn’t gay. “Sounds good.” I had to make a concentrated effort not to wrinkle my nose. Something about his voice was as oily as the salad dressing at Grapeyard & Vine.
“So, Katia,” Ryan said, leaning closer. “You may have heard of me. I’ve certainly heard of you.” He chuckled at his own joke, but for once, I didn’t ta
ke any pleasure in the fact that he’d recognized me. “I have a little arrangement with some of the pageant girls around here.”
Before I could ask what he meant, Ryan had grabbed my arm and dragged me over to the side of the stage. I was about to slap him when I realized he was pointing at one of the other judges. She was a gorgeous, petite redhead I’d seen at various events over the past few months. She was new to L.A., and the rumor was that she was from Wisconsin or one of those other dreadful flyover states.
“What about her?” I frowned. “Did you—did you want me to talk to her for you?” I asked weakly.
