Untouchable: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Kathryn Thomas

  For all of his gentlemanly nature, Mr. Wilson snorted. “I’ll say.”

  “Give me one more chance,” she heard herself say. “I’ll make up for everything; you have my word.”

  Mr. Wilson’s eyes searched her carefully. At sixty-five years old, Bob Wilson had seen and heard it all, and he was very savvy at detecting lies. But something in Eve’s expression must have convinced him of her good intentions, because he heaved a sigh and sat back.

  “Fine,” he said. “One chance. But if you mess up one more time, I’ll have no choice.”

  Eve nodded. “Understood,” she said. “Thank you.”

  Mr. Wilson nodded curtly and stood, smoothing out his ice-gray suit. “You’d best go home now. It’s getting late, and I want you well-rested and sharp tomorrow.”

  Eve nodded again. “I’ll just reply to a few e-mails, and then I’ll be out of here.”

  “Good. Have a good night, Miss Robinson.”

  “You, too, Mr. Wilson.”

  Eve watched him leave her office. As soon as the door clicked close behind him, she slumped back against her chair, blowing out a sharp puff of air in frustration. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out why she had just begged to keep a job she hated.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  My life does not make sense to me anymore.

  This was all that Eve could think about, as she navigated the Los Angeles traffic on her way back to her house. Not for the first time in the past few months she wondered how it had ever made sense to her to begin with. How could she be content with this? She helped nauseatingly rich people find nauseatingly opulent homes in order to nauseatingly flaunt their richness. There was a time when she had thought she was merely helping people find the home of their dreams, and perhaps that’s what she really did. After all, even rich people had the picture of a dream house tucked away in their minds. Lately, however, she couldn’t help but approach every aspect of her life with a bitter attitude that she didn’t recognize as her own. Then again, after touching raw and rough and tough reality, how could she be okay with this sheltered world she lived in?

  Her head was still buzzing with all these unsatisfactory thoughts—just as it had for the past few months—by the time she reached her apartment complex. Her condo was on the nineteenth floor of a twenty-story building. Sitting in the armchair by the enormous glass windows in the living room while sipping a glass of wine, as she overlooked L.A., was the only thing that still brought her comfort and something resembling peace. She was very much looking forward to that tonight. Today, for some reason, everything was just a little bit harder. Maybe she was just reaching the end of her endurance.

  Or maybe, Eve reflected as she parked her car and went inside, it was the idiocy of asking Mr. Wilson to give her a chance that she didn’t want. It would have been so easy to just let him fire her. In the eyes of everyone else, she would have been forced to leave. She wouldn’t have to quit and give awkward explanations. She wouldn’t have to endure any lectures from her father. Instead, she had asked for one more chance and had gotten herself deeper into a situation that she was already in deep enough.

  Eve nodded distractedly at Javier, the doorman behind the security desk at the entrance of the building, and walked to the elevators. She heaved a sigh of relief when the doors closed, shielding her from view. She slumped against the wall and leaned her head back against the cool surface of the elevator mirror. Another day was over and done with. For a few precious hours, she could finally stop pretending.

  That is, until tomorrow came. The fact that tomorrow was a Saturday didn’t come as any consolation. In fact, the weekends were the worst. It was one thing to pretend with her boss and her co-workers; there was a barrier of professionalism that allowed her to keep her personal life to herself without having to dodge any questions. Weekends were different. Weekends involved her family and personal friends. Most of all, weekends involved Alan.

  Eve let a groan escape her throat at the thought. She had yet to find the strength to break up with him. She couldn’t do it when she had just gotten back from her adventure. Going M.I.A. for almost a whole month and then breaking off her engagement would have raised too many suspicions. Plus, fending off the understandable confusion of her family and fiancé had been hard enough as it was. Luckily, Alan had popped the question only a couple of weeks before all hell broke loose at the nightclub, so Eve had been able to make up a story about panicking, getting cold feet, and needing to get away and disappear for a while. She had apologized and told them all it had been a stupid, impulsive act, and everyone had left it at that.

  But they had been watching her like hawks for the last couple of months; all of them afraid that she would pull another stunt; all of them afraid of that eventuality for different reasons. Her mother was terrified something might happen to her. Her father was afraid she would disappear and embarrass the family. Alan was scared she would leave him high and dry, irreparably damaging his pride. None of them had said any of this aloud or to Eve’s face, but they didn’t need to. She knew. She knew them well enough to read all of them like bestsellers.

  Once the elevator reached her floor and released her, Eve walked up to the door to her apartment and paused. She took a deep breath and told herself everything would be okay for a few hours. For a few hours, it would only be her and a bottle of wine.

  She unlocked the armored door and stepped inside. Immediately, she was hit with the inviting, tantalizing smell of something delicious cooking. She barely suppressed a groan.

  Oh, no.

  “Hey, honey.”

  Alan peeked out from the kitchen’s doorway, a satisfied smile on his handsome face. Eve glimpsed the straps of an apron over his shirt and forced out a smile. She was delivering so many forced smiles lately that she thought it was a wonder her jaw hadn’t locked yet.

  “Hi,” she said, closing the door behind her and going to hang her purse and blazer on the rack near the entrance. Then, she gathered up her courage, summoned all of her acting skills, and walked to the kitchen, kicking her high heels off as she went.

  Alan was indeed busy at the stove. Now that she was inside, the smells became clearer. Garlic bread from the oven and something winey from the large pot on the largest stove. Alan turned around, his hands busy stirring whatever was in the pot, and flashed her a dimpled grin. Of all the flaws that one might find in Alan, lack of good looks sure wasn’t one of them. He looked like he had just stepped out of a romance novel. He was always sharp, what with his crisp shirts and designer clothes, but it was his body that really made all the difference. He wasn’t particularly bulky, but he was built like a model. Every muscle in his body was defined. He had a full head of luscious blond hair, green eyes, and a smile that could melt the ice in Antarctica. His killer confidence did the rest.

  And he was a great cook. All in all, Eve had to admit that she could have done way worse than Alan Sutherland.

  “I’ve noticed you’ve been really stressed lately,” he said from over his shoulder, “so I thought I’d surprise you with a nice home-cooked dinner. I hope this is all right.”

  Eve’s oh-so-fake smile broadened. “Of course.” I don’t regret giving you a copy of the keys at all. “It smells wonderful in here.” She walked up to the stove and planted a swift kiss to Alan’s lips. “What’s cooking?”

  “Garlic bread for an appetizer and hare salmì for the main course.”

  Despite all of her annoyance at finding him in her apartment when she had been looking forward to a night to herself, Eve’s stomach grumbled. “Sounds delicious,” she admitted.

  “I should hope so. This is my grandma’s recipe,” Alan said. “Why don’t you open us a bottle of wine while I finish here?”

  Eve hesitated. “How long before it’s ready?”

  “About thirty minutes.”

  “Could I take a quick shower first?”

  Alan’s green eyes twinkled maliciously. “Of course.”

  Eve laughed. “Don’t even th
ink about it,” she said. “Someone’s has to watch over the food.”

  Alan heaved a dramatic sigh. “Such is the burden of a chef.”

  Eve chuckled and kissed him again, longer and more passionately this time. “Hang in there, handsome. I’ll be back before you know it.” She gave him a teasing wink and disappeared down the corridor.

  She took her time getting undressed and stepping under the hot spray. She let the water hit her back and run down her skin in rivulets, hoping against hope that it would wash away some of her feelings of emptiness and confusion. She felt lost, adrift, completely at a loss of what to do in order to regain some control over her existence and put her life back together.

  It wasn’t long before she heard the door of the bathroom opening. Eve suppressed a curse. Why did Alan never listen?

  Two minutes later, he was entering the stall, as naked as Eve was. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, and she could not help but tense up. His lips landed on her skin and began to kiss a pattern from her shoulder blade up to her neck and nape. Eve tried to stay still, but her instincts kicked in and she moved her neck away. She felt him tense behind her.

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice still sultry but with a note of suspicion in it.

  Eve suppressed a sigh and stepped out of his embrace. She turned around to look at him, water still streaming over both of them.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, as sincerely as she could. Because the truth was, she couldn’t even bring herself to feel sorry for not desiring her fiancé. “I’m just tired. It’s been a bad day at work.”

  “I understand,” Alan said. He hesitated for a moment. “It’s just lately it seems you’ve been having a lot of bad days at work.”

  Eve did sigh this time. She supposed she should have expected him to start complaining about the lack of a proper sex life sooner or later, but she was really hoping she had some time before that happened.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. “Why don’t we go back to the kitchen and eat the delicious dinner you’ve cooked for us?” She forced out yet another smile. “Who knows, maybe good food will lift my spirits.”

  Alan nodded. “Yeah,” he said, looking very unconvinced, “let’s do that.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Eve said, “I just need to wash my hair. I’ll be quick; I promise.”

  “Whatever.”

  Eve cringed. She knew this wasn’t over. She knew Alan would have something to say at dinner.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “So who is he?”

  Eve looked up sharply. Alan had been pleasant almost throughout the whole dinner, making conversation and letting her enjoy the food, which was indeed worthy of some of the best restaurants out there. He asked the question point-blank, catching her entirely by surprise in-between spoonfuls of a to-die-for dark chocolate mousse.

  “Excuse me?” Eve blinked, genuinely confused.

  “You heard me,” Alan said. He was looking at her sternly, his green eyes dark and suspicious. “Who is he?”

  “Who?” There was simply no way Alan could have found out about Lind, but Eve’s heart began to race nonetheless.

  “The man who was with you while you were gone.”

  Eve put her spoon down slowly. “What are you talking about?” she asked. “There was no man.”

  “I think there was.”

  Eve watched him carefully. His handsome features were set in determination. She knew then that Alan wasn’t going to budge. “Why?” she demanded. She forced herself to keep her emotions in check. If she flared up, she would only let him know that she did indeed have something to hide. “What makes you think that?”

  “You disappeared for a month,” Alan said, “then you came back and you were a whole other person. Yes, I’ve noticed,” he added when she gave him a surprised look. “This other Eve is distracted and acts like her life is a too-tight dress. You’re distracted. You hate your job…” He hesitated. “You hate me.”

  Eve winced inwardly. She wasn’t in love with Alan, and she had not even been attracted to him since Lind, but she didn’t want to hurt him. “I don’t hate you,” she said, and it was the truth.

  “You don’t love me, either.”

  “Well, do you?” Eve retorted. She bit her lip as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She had never asked that question out loud. She had always known that their engagement was a convenience engagement, but neither of them had ever admitted it.

  Alan’s green eyes flashed angrily. “What’s that supposed to mean? I asked you to marry me, didn’t I?”

  “Yes,” Eve admitted. “But did you do it because you love me, or because it’s the logical thing to do?” The damage was done; she may as well get it all off her chest.

  “I want to marry you because I’m in love with you,” Alan said, anger laying somewhere underneath in his voice.

  Eve met his unnecessarily outraged look straight on. “Don’t lie to me, Alan.”

  “How dare you?” he suddenly exploded. He stood abruptly to his feet. “You disappear into thin air for a month, and then you come back and accuse me of not loving you! Me? Not loving you? I’m not the one who ran away, sweetheart.”

  Eve stared at him in dismay. She had not be prepared for this outburst. “What are you getting so angry about?” she said after a moment’s shock. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

  “Are you?” Alan retorted. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Eve, but you’re moody as hell. Wherever you were for that whole month, it seems to me like you wish you were back there. And I’m a lot of things, but I’m not stupid. Now, who is he?” The question was asked through gritted teeth.

  Eve had never seen the jealous side of Alan before, and she had to admit that she wasn’t a fan. She stood, too. “There was and there is no one,” she said, her voice and eyes hard. “I think you should leave now.”

  Alan watched her carefully for a few still, furious moments. “Very well, I’ll go,” he said in a dangerously controlled tone of voice. “But this isn’t over, Eve. You’re hiding something, and I don’t like it.”

  Prickled, Eve drew herself up to her full height. “Frankly, Alan, I could not care less what you like right now.”

  For a moment, he seemed on the verge of vomiting all of his anger forward, but instead he held himself back. He turned and stormed out of the kitchen. A few moments later, Eve heard the front door open and close. Suddenly terrified that he would change his mind, she sprung forward and hurried over to lock it, turning the key angrily as far as it would go. She leaned back against the locked door and took a few deep breaths to get her own anger back under control.

  She didn’t bother to clean up in the kitchen. Instead, she turned off all the lights and went to bed, hoping for an uninterrupted, oblivious sleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  She came with a gasp and a cry, barely aware of Lind still thrusting into her; she was just too lost in her own pleasure to notice anything else. It came to her in waves, intense and all-consuming. Her whole body was on fire with that pleasure.

  She had barely entered the aftershocks phase when Lind came, too. He shuddered and tensed against her with the strength of his release, and then he went limp against her. Instinctively, Eve reached up and wrapped her arms around him.

  She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, perfectly still and entangled. Finally, Lind moved and broke the spell. He pulled back and out of her. Then, he rolled off of her and back onto the mattress. When he turned to look at her, he was grinning from ear to ear, and his impossibly blue eyes were sparkling.

  “Well, that was something.”

  Eve woke with a start. Lately, she had been waking up like that from any dreams involving Lind, and the reaction was particularly violent whenever she would wake from dreaming of their first time together. It was far from a nightmare, of course, but it also did not bring her any comfort. In fact, dreaming of Lind only intensified the pain.

  She lied in bed and focused on br
eathing slowly and regularly, fighting to bring her galloping heart back under control. Her eyes were full of tears that she refused to let fall. For the umpteenth time in the past four months, one week, and three days—(but who was counting?)—Eve found herself wishing that she could just get Lind Addams out of her mind—preferably for good.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  Her breasts were phenomenal. Plastic, probably, but still. Besides, pretty much all about her was fake, from her platinum blonde hair and her pink-and-red lacquered fingernails, down to her eyelashes. (Nobody could possibly have eyelashes that long. It just wasn’t natural.) She was tacky and vulgar, but Lind didn’t care. Fake boobs or not, she was a tigress in bed, and she was his for the night.

  He didn’t remember her name, but he didn’t much care about that either. He rode her like there was no tomorrow, and he let her ride him, too. Her curves were soft, and her body was toned in all the right places. She came with a loud, unabashed cry. Lind came, too, but it was more of an unbidden physical reaction than the result of any real pleasure. It was a reflex, nothing more; he didn’t particularly enjoy it.