Magnificent Bastard

by Lili Valente

  I nod. “Of course it is. What was the question again?”

  “How to up my game,” she says, reaching out to slap my shoulder in her enthusiasm. “How to handle Phillip!” She stands, grabbing her mug and plate and gathering our crumpled napkins in one hand. “Come on. Back inside. There’s no time to waste. I need to practice.”

  “Practice what?” I ask, hoping it has something to do with me making her bones melt again.

  She stops at the door, turning to flutter her eyelashes in my direction. “Looking like I’m desperately in love of course.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  From the e-mail archives of Sebastian “Bash” Prince and Penny Pickett

  From: MagnificentBastard1

  To: Penny4YourLobsterPot

  Re: Something to keep in mind during interviews

  Hey P,

  Happy Sunday. You’ve been quieter than usual this weekend. Hopefully, that means you’re out somewhere having fun. No need to reply until tomorrow, but I’ve just finished my first date with Cheyenne and it brought up some things I want us to discuss before we sign our next client.

  I think we’ve been overlooking an important part of the interview process.

  Helping women who are deserving and in need is my first priority, but we have to make sure our clients are capable of holding up their side of the arrangement.

  Once we were out in public, Cheyenne cringed every time I touched her hand, Penny. Visibly cringed, like I was that creepy uncle at the family reunion.

  I finally talked her through it, and by the time her ex noticed we were seated at one of the tables in the garden at his favorite restaurant, she was pulling off “Not Completely Repulsed By My Presence,” but we’ve got a long way to go before we’ll be inspiring epic jealousy.

  So from now on, I’m going to add a public outing to the orientation side of things, and I would love for you to dig deeper with the interview questions. If someone has social anxiety or any past trauma that might make it difficult (or impossible) for them to pull off pretending to be madly in love with me, that’s something I need to know.

  Thinking back on it, it’s amazing we haven’t run into a situation like this before. I guess we’ve just gotten lucky that our first few clients had a knack for the dramatic.

  Don’t worry about Cheyenne—I’m not giving up on her until we give her the justice she deserves—but I want to step up our vetting process going forward. I don’t want to turn people away, but I don’t want to fail them, either.

  I felt like shit today, sitting there, wondering if I was going to make things worse for this woman who’s already had it so rough. I don’t want to put a client (or myself) through something like that again.

  Talk soon,

  Bash

  From: Penny4YourLobsterPot

  To: MagnificentBastard1

  Re: Something to keep in mind during interviews

  Oh Bash,

  I’m so sorry. I feel like I’ve failed you.

  Cheyenne and I met for coffee down the street from my apartment for our in-person interview and I noticed that she seemed a little anxious in a social setting, but I didn’t even think about that being an issue with you.

  I guess I just assume that everyone who meets you is going to fall a little bit in love and that won’t leave any energy left for anxiety. I think that’s been the key factor with our other clients. Not that they had a flair for the dramatic, but that by the time they finished the Bash portion of orientation, they were crushing hard enough to make pretending to be crazy about you look real.

  So…maybe you just need to turn up the charm with Cheyenne?

  I’m no flirting expert, but you are. Maybe she just needs a little extra attention to get over the worry hump?

  Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help and I will draw up an addendum to the interview questions and get that to you later this week for feedback.

  Sorry again.

  hugs

  Penny

  p.s. You are the furthest thing from a creepy uncle that there is.

  From: MagnificentBastard1

  To: Penny4YourLobsterPot

  Re: Something to keep in mind during interviews

  You didn’t fail me.

  Don’t be silly. Adjustments are a normal part of running a business, especially a new business.

  I appreciate the hugs, the advice, and the faith in my flirting skills. I haven’t thought about the “little bit in love” thing before, but you may be right. I never set out to manipulate anyone, but flirting is the way I instinctively put people at ease…

  To employ that deliberately, however…

  Would that make me a creep? Or qualify as a conflict of interest? Will they think I’m leading them on? Or am I worrying too much about something that is a natural part of this weird career I’ve decided to pursue?

  Full of questions,

  Bash

  From: Penny4YourLobsterPot

  To: MagnificentBastard1

  Re: Something to keep in mind during interviews

  Your career is a little weird, but it’s also a lot great.

  You’re like a fairy godfather, but with more sex appeal ;).

  I think the fact that you’re asking these questions proves that you’re going to be just fine. You’ll know when to establish boundaries and when to take a time out if needed.

  And you could always tell the clients that you have a long-term girlfriend. Let it slip during orientation that you’re in a committed relationship with a wonderful girl. If they believe you’re taken, that might help them separate fantasy from reality.

  We’ll figure this out,

  Penny

  Text from Bash: That’s a brilliant idea! And I have the perfect fake girlfriend in mind…

  From Penny: Yeah? That’s great!

  Bash: Yeah, she’s a lovely girl, and the women will feel a vested interest in our relationship since she’s the woman who connected them with me in the first place.

  Penny: Oh no. Not me!

  Bash: Why not? All of our clients talk about how sweet and wonderful you are. And all of them are sweet enough not to want to make a move on your boyfriend. It’s the perfect arrangement.

  Besides, it was your idea. You can’t say no.

  Penny: Ugh. Fine. But I want fake flowers on Valentine’s Day.

  Bash: You’ll get real flowers on Valentine’s Day and cupcakes on your birthday. My small way of saying thank you for your fake girlfriend assistance.

  Penny: Make those cupcakes a subscription to the pint of the month club at Ample Valley Creamery and you’ve got a deal.

  Bash: Consider it done. You can be bribed with ice cream… I’ll keep that in mind.

  Penny: But only the good stuff.

  Bash: I wouldn’t think of sending anything less than the best, pookie-kins.

  Penny: Thanks, sugar tits.

  Bash: I just spit water all over my phone.

  Penny: I’m good at picking out pet names. What can I say?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  After half an hour of making faces at herself in the mirror while I observe from the doorway to the bathroom, offer advice, and try my best not to laugh, Penny is ready to practice her hopelessly in love expression on another person. We spend the next two hours gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, laughing our asses off, and doing a dry run of some sickeningly sweet “private” conversations we fully intend for Phillip to overhear.

  I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, but Penny’s absolutely right.

  With a man like Phillip, a sociopath who feeds on his ability to manipulate other people, it won’t matter how enamored I seem of Penny. He’s going to be looking to her and gauging her reactions. As long as she still seems vulnerable to his influence, he won’t give a shit if I get down on one knee and beg her to marry me at that wedding shower lunch.

  I’ve dealt with exes like him before and had to coach my clients through the kind of performance needed on th
eir part to get under their former lover’s skin, but for some reason, with Penny, I didn’t make the connection right away.

  Maybe it’s because I’m so used to thinking of her as a friend that I’ve let my professional focus slip. Or maybe it’s because I was so busy making love to her like my cock was about to fall off that there hasn’t been time to think about anything else.

  As much as my dick wants to make fucking Penny every few hours standard operating procedure, it’s time to hone in on the problem at hand. As we practice our lovey dovey routine, I resist indulging in more than a few affectionate touches and a lingering kiss on her cheek.

  By half past ten, I can tell Penny is feeling a hundred percent more confident than she did the day before.

  We take turns in the bathroom, arming ourselves for battle, and step out the door into the sparkling spring day looking ready to slay. I’m in custom fitted gray slacks and a navy button-down that hugs my ribs as it tapers to my waist—simple clothes intended to showcase the Magnificent Bastard beneath. Penny’s wearing a navy and white striped dress with a full skirt and a red belt that cinches at the waist, accentuating her curves. Her hair is pulled up in a sleek ponytail tied with a retro-inspired red linen bow, her toes are encased in red peek-a-boo sandals, and as we emerge into the sunlight, she slips red-framed sunglasses onto her face and pushes them up the bridge of her nose.

  She looks adorable, fashionable, and sexy, and it’s all I can do not to drag her back into the house and have her one last time before we engage the enemy.

  Instead, I reach out to squeeze her ass as we walk toward the car and promise, “As soon as we get back, I’m going to push this skirt up around your waist and have you against the nearest wall.”

  “Is that right?” she asks, a smile curving her red lips. “Are you going to take my panties off this time?”

  “Maybe.” I consider the stunning view of her cleavage provided by the low, but not too low, neckline of her dress. “Maybe not. It depends on how badly I need to fuck you. You look incredible. Prepare to have every pair of eyes at that party glued to you when you walk by.” I open the passenger door for her and wait for her to slide inside.

  She pauses, gazing up at me in the bright midday sun. “That’s not going to happen with my mother anywhere in the vicinity, but that’s okay.” With a coy tilt of her head, she reaches out to twine her fingers through mine, making my heart squeeze in my chest. “I don’t need every pair of eyes, baby. I just need yours.”

  “Damn.” I shake my head, laughing as I realize what she’s done. “That was good. For a second there, I forgot you were pretending.”

  She makes a fist and pumps it in the air. “And the student becomes the master.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, buttercup,” I say dryly, nodding toward the car. “Now sit your pretty ass down. The sooner we get to the luncheon, the sooner we’ll be back here celebrating your victory.”

  “Naked,” she adds with a grin.

  “As naked as the day you were born,” I say, smiling my approval. The student might not have become the master, but she’s definitely on her way.

  Fifteen minutes later, we’re pulling through the gates of the South Side Yacht Club and following wooden arrows with the words “Pickett and Davies” painted on them down toward the marina.

  There, at the end of the road, on the wide lawn rolling down toward the water, we discover a lavish spread. Two white tents, with flaps fluttering in the breeze, flank six long banquet tables decorated with white tablecloths, navy runners, and accented with yellow flower arrangements. Beyond the elegant dining area are several Maypoles strung with ribbons where children are already running back and forth getting tangled in the yellow silks, an elaborate dessert table piled with cakes and cookies featuring a champagne fountain, and archways covered in yellow flowers.

  I spot Phillip and Penny’s mother, a tall, striking blonde, who does look amazingly young for her age, and steer Penny away from the small crowd gathered outside the bar tent, clutching martini glasses filled with vibrantly yellow liquid. During our preparation, Penny said that she would normally go to greet her sisters first and today is all about showing that Penny is still the same person she’s always been, with one very important exception—she’s crazy about me and doesn’t care who knows it.

  “Of course, the drinks match the party’s color scheme,” she mutters beneath her breath. “I shouldn’t be surprised. I wonder if anyone will have the guts to tell her those martinis are the color of radioactive urine.”

  “Remember, only happy thoughts, sweet pea.” I wrap my arm around her waist, holding her close as we make our way past the tables toward the Maypoles. “We can discuss the urine-colored martinis at a later date.”

  “Right. Thanks for the reminder, Doodle Cakes.”

  I smile. “No problem, Honey Bear.”

  “You’re the best, Snuggle Butt.”

  I snort. “I like that one.”

  “I like your butt. I like it so much I might snuggle it later,” she says, hand slipping down to pat my ass through my pants.

  Before I can return the favor, high-pitched voices squeal, “Penny!” and a moment later, two small, but solid missiles connect with Penny’s midsection, propelling her out of my arms.

  “Hey, you guys!” Penny laughs as she wraps her arms around the little girls who have latched onto her waist like barnacles. “I’ve missed you!”

  “Us too, the weekends are so boring without a trip to Brooklyn,” the slightly taller, dark-haired little girl says, pulling back to gaze adoringly into Penny’s face. “You look so pretty, sissy.”

  “I love your dress.” The blond sister—clearly they’re not identical twins—runs a reverent hand down the fabric of Penny’s skirt. “You should wear it all the time.”

  “Well, maybe not all the time, but thank you. Both of you.” Penny hugs them tightly again before lifting her gaze to me with a smile. “Now there’s someone I want you to meet. This is Bash, my boss who I’ve told you so much about.” She glances down at the blonde. “Bash, meet Edna.” She tucks a brown curl behind the taller girl’s ear, revealing a face remarkably like her mother’s. “And Francis.”

  “Hello,” the girls say in stereo, surveying me with unconcealed curiosity. Penny and I agreed not to draw the kids into the false relationship drama if we can help it, but I can’t resist saying—

  “It’s so good to meet you two. Penny is one of my favorite people. You got lucky in the big sister department.”

  The twins’ smiles make me glad I spoke up. They clearly love Penny and, therefore, love to hear that other people appreciate their big sister’s many fine qualities.

  “Penny is the best big sister,” Edna agrees.

  Francis wrinkles her nose. “She’s our only big sister.”

  “But even is she wasn’t, she’d still be the best,” Edna insists. “She lets us sleep in our blanket fort when we go to her house and have ice cream for breakfast on Sundays.”

  “Yeah, and if Anastasia finds out I’m feeding you anything but organic, gluten-free, non-dairy rabbit food she’ll have my head on a spike,” Penny says, pinning both girls with a pointed look. “So let’s keep a lid on all that when Mom is around.”

  “Keep a lid on what when Mom is around?” a musical voice from behind us asks. A second later, the twins bolt, taking off across the lawn like they’re fleeing the wrath of Zeus.

  Penny’s face scrunches and she mouths a curse word, but by the time she spins around she’s smiling again. “Hi, Mom. So good to see you!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Bracing myself for battle, I turn to meet the electric blue gaze of Anastasia Pickett, movie star, former model, and nominee for Shittiest Mother of the Year. Calling upon my reserves of self-control, I resist the urge to glare daggers at her on Penny’s behalf.

  But it’s hard, especially when the woman’s eyes sweep from my head to my toes and back again in a way that makes it clear she’s mentally undressing me,
finding me fuckable, and wondering what the hell I’m doing with her daughter.

  It’s a lot to convey with a look, but the woman is an actress and an accomplished one at that.

  She’s so good that I almost believe her when she pulls Penny in for a hug and says, “It’s good to see you, too, sweetheart. I’m so glad to finally have you home for a visit.” Her gaze shifts back to me, the laughter in her eyes inviting me to share in a private joke. “And this must be your friend. Phillip enjoyed meeting you yesterday, Sebastian.”

  “Call me Bash, please. And did he? I’m glad,” I observe coolly, not interested in her joke, especially since Penny seems to be the butt of it. I’ve only known this woman for a few seconds and I can already see why Penny has no idea how stunning she truly is. With a mother like this, it’s a wonder her self-esteem isn’t completely in the shitter. “I’m afraid I can’t remember much about our chat. Penny had a migraine. I was so worried about her I wasn’t paying much attention to anything else.”

  “Really?” Anastasia raises a brow. “That sounds serious, Penny. Do you need to see Dr. Green while you’re home?”

  “No, I’m fine now.” She pulls away from her mother and moves into my arms, gazing up at me affectionately. “I think it was just a pinched nerve from sleeping in a weird position on the train. Bash worries too much.”

  “I do not, I worry just enough.” I lean down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “That’s what you do where precious things are concerned.”

  “Cheeser,” Penny accuses, making me grin.

  “Guilty,” I say. “Love makes me cheesy. I can’t help it.”

  “That’s okay. I like you cheesy. Just don’t let the girls hear you or they’ll tease you until you beg for mercy.”

  “I can handle eight-year-old teasing. I’m a grown-up.”

  “That you are. One of the many things I love about you.” Penny sighs happily, her eyes sparkling with the perfect degree of lovesickness. So far she’s knocking this out of the park. All that’s left to do is to get her in front of Phillip without our act falling to pieces and we’ll be back on track to victory.