Tainted Love Series Boxed Set

by Lily Zante

  It had been only a passing awareness of one another; labels that fit. She was Billy’s girlfriend and he was a guy who liked women.

  “What happened to Andre?” Feeling thirsty now, she stepped toward the sink and poured herself a glass of water. Tyler didn’t move, even though she was close and it felt like she stood too close to him. The concept of personal space seemed to be lost on him.

  “I never met him and I have no idea what happened.”

  It was obvious they’d had crossed wires between the four of them. It didn’t matter anymore because now she had a serious problem on her hands.

  She was homeless—almost.

  There was no way she would put up with traveling an hour out of San Francisco to live with her mother and her new douche bag of a husband. No, she was staying put and she’d have to figure it out. It was a decent property that she could afford.

  First things first, she’d need to get a job. Any job.

  There were a lot of things she needed to do.

  But with this asshole standing in her way, it didn’t look as though she was going to get much done.

  “Where’s Ethan?” She stepped away, looked at her watch. It was almost nine in the evening.

  Tyler shrugged. “No idea. I can’t even get hold of the guy much. Haven’t seen him in ages. I think he’s teaching near where his mom lives. She’s ill or something.”

  She wondered if she could she stay in his room for a while. And then she wondered what Ethan was doing in Bakersfield. She’d call and ask him tomorrow. If he was there or at Nadine’s place, he wasn’t going to be staying in his room. Better that she stay in Ethan’s room, because she had nowhere else to go.

  But it wouldn’t be right. She couldn’t presume to do that. Not until she’d gotten in touch with him first.

  “What’re you going to do?” Tyler seemed to be angling for some final resolution from her.

  His cell went off again, and he took a step towards the table, looked at the called ID. “Shit.” He snatched it up and walked away. “You’re not supposed to call me direct.”

  Zoe felt piqued by his abrupt tone. She didn’t like Tyler much. He’d always been a bit arrogant, slightly full of himself.

  She stood alone in the kitchen and wondered what to tell Billy. And whether Ethan might make an appearance anytime soon.

  Chapter 3

  “What do you want now?” Tyler slammed the door with fury. With gritted teeth he bit the words out slowly, hoping this woman, who was now turning his life to misery, would get the message and quit calling.

  What had happened to the sweet, almost shy woman he had first met? She’d been his first “appointment” when he’d just joined the agency. He’d been expecting piranha-ish desperate women hungry for men when he’d first signed up with Chrissie. But his apprehension soon dissolved on meeting Margaux. Her sweet and unassuming personality had immediately put him at ease and she had become a regular. Over the past eighteen months he’d seen her once every single week, sometimes twice, on occasions when she had social commitments and no date to accompany her.

  But lately she’d become more needy. She was not the Margaux he had come to like—and he didn’t know how to shake her off. He’d made a mistake in giving her his cell number. It could have been worse. He’d made worse mistakes before.

  “Margaux, go through Chrissie.” He’d have to block her number.

  “I want to see you more than once. Why won’t you see me?”

  He heard the desperation in her voice.

  “I’m busy; I have other commitments. Other clients.” And a life. He didn’t sign up to doing this all day long. Just a few hours every day. That was all. It was enough, along with his photography, so that he could get by. Until he found the right role where he could do nothing but take shots all day long.

  She wasn’t getting the message, wasn’t taking no for an answer. She’d wanted to see him two or three times a week lately and his “no” wasn’t getting through to her.

  She was making his life hell and he had no idea why. She’d taken to calling him a couple of times a day asking to meet up with him—blatantly not going through Chrissie like she was supposed to. Normally, he had a weekly appointment with her—that was the word Chrissie preferred to use. These appointments were meetings with single, rich, often moneyed, women who used Chrissie’s escort agency in order to be paired up with handsome men for dinner or accompaniment to an event.

  Margaux Scott was unattached, in her mid-thirties and a well put together woman. And unlike a lot of his clients, she wasn’t insanely rich. She wasn’t old money, like many of them, who thought their money could buy people the way most acquired expensive shoes and cars.

  She worked and had a good job as a buyer for a fashion store, and her work kept her busy. Perhaps that was why he only saw her once a week.

  But lately she’d tried to increase her appointments and so far Tyler had managed to get out of those. It wasn’t only that she wanted more time with him, but her questions were becoming more personal, she was becoming more tactile. She’d even leaned in for a kiss when they parted ways outside her house.

  “We used to be good friends, Tyler. But you’ve changed.”

  I’ve changed? “I don’t have any available slots. It’s the god’s honest truth.” Irritation laced his words. It was true: he was busy. He was well liked and a popular escort. One of Chrissie’s best. Besides, it wasn’t like he did this all day long. He only worked the odd hours during the day, a couple during the evening. If going for dinners and talking and having all expenses paid could be deemed to be work. The rest of the time he’d be practicing lighting skills, or shooting, if he was lucky enough to get a gig.

  He’d been working for Chrissie over a year now, and seen Ethan come and go in that time. A part of him envied his friend in a way. The man had escaped and now had an up and coming career as a metal sculptor. Ethan was so over his days in the escorting world.

  Tyler hadn’t meant for this gig to go on as long as it had, but the lure of easy money was hard to walk away from. Especially when the only alternative was to join the family business. His family was rich, but he’d walked away from their clutches. His father’s clutches—even though every now and then his father tried to reel him back.

  His photography wasn’t going to earn him much coin. He still needed rent money, food money, getting-by money. At twenty-seven, he knew he needed to firm up his direction in life. He didn’t want to end up having to join his father’s car dealerships just because he had no other option.

  Tyler tugged at his hair as he remembered the father who still looked down at his hobby as “creative crap that won’t make you rich, boy.”

  A hobby that couldn’t sustain him, but one that gave him endless hours of creative satisfaction. Especially when he went down to the Tenderloin and took natural shots of the homeless shelters and soup kitchens, capturing the bleakness and optimism that went hand in hand.

  “There are rumors swilling around—about you,” Margaux said, nastily.

  He waited for her to go on. She was calling his bluff. He just had to hear her out. “Oh, really?” He felt weary of hearing her go on.

  “Rumor has it that you have clients you favor. You provide extra services for them.”

  Did she even know what she was saying? He held his breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re not making any sense.” But he began to wonder if she was alluding to the very thing he hoped she hadn’t heard.

  She hissed a laugh at him. “Whom do you think Chrissie’s going to believe now? Me—or you?”

  She really was starting to sound crazy.

  “That Bailey gets around. Slutty little tramp.” Her ominous last words hung in the air with more than just a hint of a threat.

  Tyler switched his cell phone off in disgust. He would not tolerate hearing this woman talk about his friend that way. But she knew something, and it could only have come from Bailey.

  Damn Bailey.

/>   Tyler stared out of his window and wondered.

  How did she know?

  Christ, he’d really blown it now. He was at this woman’s mercy. Either give in to seeing her a couple of times a week, or risk the chance of losing his job. Money didn’t come any easier than it did being as escort with Chrissie’s agency.

  But even though the money was good, and easy, Tyler wasn’t so sure he wanted to carry on with this. Leaving Billy’s dance troupe to go into the escort route seemed like a temporary measure and a good idea, but now he was ready to leave.

  A knock at the door interrupted him and he was reminded of his house invader. Great. Now he had another frigging pain in the butt to deal with. Getting this place at such short notice had been a blessing. And when Ethan had called him with the offer, Tyler had wasted no time.

  He pulled open his door. “What?” he barked.

  “What happened to the couch?” Zoe looked back at him with as much hatred as he seemed to be showing her. “The wheel’s come off.”

  He scratched his jaw irritably. “Who knows?” Like it was any of his problem.

  “It wasn’t broken when we left. Did you break it? Or was it Andre?” She glowered back at him. She was skinnier and smaller than he remembered her, not that he’d paid her much notice before. Girls like her were invisible to him. “It wasn’t me. And I’ve never met An-drey.” His snarl was sarcastic. “He’s your boyfriend’s friend. Ask him.”

  “My ex.”

  “What?”

  “Billy’s my ex. We’re not together anymore.”

  “Whatever.” Did she think he cared?

  “Just go to hell,” said Zoe, grinding her teeth.

  Go to hell?

  “You too.” He threw right back at her.

  “How long do I have to put up with you?” snapped Zoe.

  “How long do you have?” He gave her a whimsical smile, and played up to his reputation. Running his hand through his hair, he watched her glare at him with repulse.

  He wasn’t used to this kind of reaction from the opposite sex and Zoe both amused and interested him because of her disinterested, almost annoyed, response.

  “Screw you,” she muttered before walking off.

  He watched and waited with amusement, biting back the choice comment that sat on the tip of his tongue.

  Chapter 4

  The guy was a total asshole.

  She would have flopped onto the couch, but it was wonky and she needed a good night’s sleep. Tonight, with her nerves frayed as they were, and no end to her troubles in sight, she needed to sleep.

  No job, no boyfriend, no bed and a broken couch.

  But she had to be grateful that she at least had a roof over her head. And that she and Billy were still friends, and she could stay here, once things were sorted out and Tyler moved out.

  Things hadn’t gotten off to the new start she had imagined. And Zoe so was desperate for a fresh start. Leaving Peru had seemed like a good idea especially during the times when she and Billy had argued—and there had been plenty of those.

  But now she was here she wasn’t so sure she had done the right thing. Not with the way things were unfolding. The couch would have to do for tonight. At five foot seven inches, she wasn’t spectacularly tall and her legs wouldn’t dangle too much over the edge. Though she wasn’t so sure about sleeping on a slope. She looked at the caster wheel lying on the floor. Who knew what had gone on while they had been away? From the sounds of things, Ethan hadn’t been here much either.

  She’d fix that wheel tomorrow. Zoe had gotten good at fixing things around the house. Her mother had depended on her to, when there had been just the two of them.

  Tomorrow she would also pay Becca a visit during her lunch break. Neither of them had been laid off as they’d initially feared but several other workers hadn’t been as lucky. Becca had told her, in the few emails they’d exchanged whenever she and Billy had managed to find a cafe with Wi-Fi, that her boss was finding things difficult now that he had lost so many workers.

  Maybe she would be able to convince her old boss to let her help out on a part-time basis? It was an idea. Though she had a feeling that he would want her full-time. And she couldn’t do that.

  She was going to change the direction of her life. Getting away from the daily grind had enabled her to think things through.

  She was smart and clever and she knew she could do more with her life. She had ambitions. The only problem was that she’d bought into her mother’s idea about not studying further and just finding a job. Any job.

  Which had been fine.

  Until Zoe realized she was no longer content with the status quo.

  She wanted more, like Ethan’s girlfriend more. A woman like that had a great start in life—rich parents, probably private education, the best universities, the best of everything that money could buy.

  And on top of everything else she had been blessed with, the woman had Ethan, too.

  Zoe didn’t care about rich parents, or having more money than sense. She wanted a better job, something she enjoyed doing, somewhere she got to use her brain. And a guy just like Ethan.

  But first things first, she needed to check her mail and then apply for the grant.

  She’d helped Billy with some of his assignments when he brought work home. It had been in a very limited capacity, but even he had been surprised by her ability to pick up key concepts quickly. Billy told her she had a penchant for this type of work. She’d enjoyed helping him, and it was so unlike learning a foreign language. She found learning to code to be easier than learning French.

  The more she thought about it, the more she felt drawn to apply—and so she had. The Programming Bootcamp Intensive was a tough four-month course she’d heard Billy mention a while ago. She’d figured there’d be no harm in applying for the grant as well, just in case she got an offer of a place. But with the course starting just weeks from now, she was beginning to get the first seeds of doubt.

  She brushed the thought away. As tired as she was, she collapsed onto the couch, opened up her laptop, a miracle that it was still in one piece having made its own special trek to Peru and back. She checked her mailbox. Still nothing. She looked at the course website and re-read everything, as if just reading about it might help her to manifest her place on the course. She had applied for it last week, when they’d stopped off at a cafe that had Wi-Fi, taking a much-needed break from their thirty-hour bus ride from Cusco to Lima.

  She’d also looked around for possible grant opportunities and applied online for the Women in Computing grant. With women being a minority in IT, grants like these were meant to attract more of them into this field. The course, if she was lucky to be offered a place, was expensive and she needed as much funding as she could get. Her savings were enough but once she paid for the course, that pile was going to be drastically reduced. She needed a job now.

  Feeling a sense of hopelessness descend on her, Zoe put away her laptop and started to go through her suitcase, taking out things she needed for the night. But her mind was busy thinking of everything she needed to do, now that she was back.

  The course would start in a few weeks time and would run until the end of June. It was intensive. Seven hours a day. It meant she couldn’t work a normal day’s shift. She would need to find a part-time job.

  She got her sheets from the cupboard she and Billy had locked and left out of bounds for their new housemate. She’d unpack tomorrow, once she got access to her room again. She was hoping it wouldn’t take long to convince Tyler to leave. She wondered just how long that asshole thought he could stay here.

  She would email Billy tomorrow and tell him about the mix-up.

  Feeling hungry, she wandered into the kitchen, and in a multi-tasking frenzy, put some pasta on to boil and put her clothes into the washing machine.

  When Tyler cleared off, she would have the whole place to herself. She sat alone in the kitchen and ate her meal in silence, hoping that he’d at least ha
ve the decency not to disturb her. If they could stay out of each other’s paths—that would be the best thing for them both.

  An hour later, having washed away the grime and sweat of a full day’s traveling, Zoe almost dozed off to sleep on the couch.

  Until the door bashed open and the lights came on.

  “I forgot you were—” He frowned at her. He’d made himself a sandwich.

  “Do you mind?” She rubbed her eyes against the harsh light.

  “I won’t be long.” He sat down on the single seater and turned the TV on.

  “I’m trying to sleep.”

  “This isn’t the bedroom.” He plonked himself down on the single seater, turned on the TV loud, and started to chomp down on his sandwich.

  Zoe sat up and rubbed her eyes. Was this guy for real?

  “You’re squatting in my room, remember. Where do you expect me to sleep?”

  With his gaze fixed on the TV, he slowly, reluctantly, turned his head toward her.

  “Are you for real?” he asked.

  She quelled the urge to punch him. She could see it was going to be a problem getting him out of this apartment. He didn’t look as though he was going anywhere soon.

  She lay down and pulled the covers completely over her head, hoping to block out the light, the sounds, and the asshole.

  After a couple of seconds, Tyler turned the sound down. And about five minutes later, he turned the TV off and the lights off and left the room.

  Chapter 5

  Tyler slammed the door to the living room as he left, wanting Zoe to know, in case she hadn’t figured it out yet, that he hated her presence.

  He returned to his room with his anger and simmered in silence.

  Just when he thought he had the perfect place to stay—an affordable apartment all to himself—along comes a whingy, whiney, total pain-in-the-ass ex-girlfriend of one of his friends.