“I never said I was defending him,” he argues, leaning in. “I just said it seems like there’s a mistake here, somewhere. I know Brock. And he wouldn’t do this.”
“Stop. Just stop, okay? This is the mistake, right here. Talking with you about this.” I start to stand.
He holds me in place. Just as demanding as his buddy. “You’re going to wait a minute, and I’m gonna clear up a few things for you.”
I slam myself back onto the vinyl stool. He’s right about this place being a dive. Windowless, a little grimy, and very depressing. Strangely, this is exactly what I expected when I came to Las Vegas. It was from a movie I saw when I was a kid. The sort of hole where losers come to drink their troubles away after taking a gamble and losing everything. I took a gamble, and look where it got me.
I sigh. “What could you possibly clear up?”
“For one thing, Brock is not in love with Charlotte.”
I rear up instantly. “Bull. That’s the reason he brought me here in the first place, because he’s so hung-up on her.” I pat his shoulder in a fake show of sympathy. “It’s okay. I understand. Sometimes, even best friends don’t share everything.”
“You don’t know half of what you think you know,” he insists. “Stop with the smartass comments and listen for a minute. Do you know how to listen? God, no wonder he likes you so much. You’re both just as thick-headed as the other.”
“Very nice,” I mutter.
“I’m serious. Just listen. Please.” He takes my hand, and holds it tight in both of his. “Brock isn’t in love with Charlotte. He was never in love with her. I don’t know what it was, really. Lust. She was his mistress, you know? He gave her lots and lots of money and she gave him sex. It’s how he operates. I’m sort of the same way, so I get it.”
Yeah, I know how he operates. He’s giving me lots and lots of money too.
“When he found out she was getting married, he probably felt secretly relieved. Especially since, it’s so obvious that it all was such a sham. I mean, me as the best man? When I never met the groom before this weekend, and was never friends with her? It’s painfully obvious this was all an elaborate ploy to get under his skin, and looks like it failed big time too.”
“Actually, judging by the fact that I found her in his bed, her plan worked very well.”
“You still don’t get it,” he insists. “He didn’t come here out of love for her, or some deep need to make sure she knows what she’s missing out on by marrying somebody else.”
“Oh, really? Because that’s what he told me. He brought me here to make her jealous, because he couldn’t stand seeing her marry somebody else. This was all a great, big lie. Like I said, I don’t think you two are on the same page.” I shrug, as though it doesn’t matter, as though my heart isn’t breaking into a thousand pieces. “I get it. You’re guys. You don’t want to talk about your feelings or whatever.”
“You’re the one who’s two steps behind,” he says. “Listen to me. Really think about this. Don’t you remember Brock? From when you were kids?”
I stare at him. This is unexpected. For the second time today, I’m truly gobsmacked and have no idea what to say. “From when we were kids?” I eventually whisper, more to myself than to him. “I met him for the first time a few days ago.”
He chuckles. “No. You didn’t.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Both of you know each other.”
I frown. “We do?”
“Well, maybe you weren’t good buddies or anything. But he remembered you the minute he saw you. He told me all about it. God, I wish he would’ve just told you. This would’ve all been a lot simpler.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You went to the same school before you got sent away. Really think. Don’t you remember him at all?”
He’s right. I remember the feelings of déjà vu I keep getting every now and again. I think. I think hard, combing through memories I would’ve just as soon have forgotten forever. Brock, in my past. Was he there? In school? I hate thinking back to those days and all the boys who made fun of me and laughed, yet would stand in line to buy kisses—
And that’s when it hits me. The dark-haired boy. Standing against the wall, watching me. Staring. And how I cried because it was him I wanted to be kissing, not the poor fat boy in front of me. How ashamed I suddenly felt, knowing he was watching as I sold my kisses out of the sort of desperation only hunger can inspire.
“My God,” I whisper, suddenly seeing everything in a different light.
“I guess you made a strong impression,” Mark observes with a wry grin. “He’s been crazy about you ever since those days, even though you disappeared. Maybe because you did, I don’t know. He’s never been able to get you out of his head. He always wondered what happened to you. When he saw you again, he had to find a way to keep you with him. So, he pretended to need you to show up Charlotte. That’s all. It had nothing to do with her and everything to do with you.”
I can hardly believe it. My heart’s racing to the point where even breathing is a struggle. “Tell me—you’re serious. Please.”
“I’m serious. Which is why I’m sure what happened up there with Charlotte is a mistake. If I know her, she set it all up. Go to him. He’s probably out of his mind by now, trying to figure out where you ran off to.”
And I do, but only after I throw my arms around Mark’s neck and squeeze as tight as I can. “Thank you.”
“You want to thank me?” He laughs. “Defend me when he threatens to kick my ass for outing him like this.”
Chapter 34
Dani
Brock is at the front desk when I race through the doors. I can hear his voice, raised over the general buzz of activity in the lobby.
“Nobody here saw where she went? You want me to believe you all happened to be looking the other way at the same moment in time? Is that the sort of fool you take me for?”
“Nobody takes you for a fool,” the anxious concierge insists. He glances over Brock’s shoulder and the sight of me makes his eyes light up in sheer relief. “Here she is, sir.”
Brock spins, eyes wide.
I see him now. I really see him. He’s more than just the dominating, self-assured control freak. He’s out of his mind with worry about me. He thought I might have run off for good. He brought me here for himself. Granted, he could’ve just been honest with me that first night, back at his penthouse and saved himself a lot of money in the process.
“You’re here.” He looks me up and down, eyes darting back and forth as though he’s checking for signs of damage.
It makes my heart go out to him in a way it never has before. “I’m here. And I think we need to talk.”
“We definitely do.” He leads me to the elevators. I catch sight of the concierge leaning against the counter with a sigh of relief. We don’t say another word until we’re back in the suite. The empty suite. Charlotte is long gone, thank goodness.
“You left before I had the chance to explain.” He folds his arms.
Now, I notice for the first time how disheveled he looks. His polo isn’t even tucked in. The collar is askew. I want to reach out and fix it for him, but I hold back. “I know, I should have waited and given you a chance to explain, but you have to look at it from my point-of-view. Would you wait around in the same room with that—that—person?” I gesture toward the bedroom and the empty bed.
He gets the hint. “You’ve got to know I had nothing to do with her being in my bed,” he says, and sits on the sofa.
I do the same, leaving space between us. We’re not out of the woods yet. I’m not ready to climb into his lap. “What happened?”
He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s all so ridiculous and stupid. I feel so stupid. She showed up here with a bottle of red wine and put on this big show about being nervous for the ceremony, needing a drink with an old friend. Wanting to bury the hatchet. Wanting to start off with a clean slate, no bad bloo
d between us. What a joke. But I let her in when she made a big deal about it. She poured an obnoxious glass for herself, but she did always like her wine, so I let it go. Until she spilled almost all of it on me.” He grimaces.
“That’s not even very original,” I can’t help but observe.
“No, it isn’t. I got in the shower to clean up and when I came out…she was in my bed and you looked as if you had been struck by lightning. You have to believe me she was fully dressed when I left her.”
I do believe him, but I can’t make it so easy, either. “What happened after I left?”
“She tried to make it seem like she really just wanted me back, one last time with me before she got married, and you coming back was a surprise.” His eyes glitter with fury. “I saw the text she sent you.”
I had forgotten all about the text until that very second. Demanding that I come upstairs at once. I was so upset and so shocked I didn’t see what was so obvious. Yes, she set us both up. Now that I have the benefit of a little time passing between my discovery and my conversation with Mark, I see just how absurd it all was. Like Brock would text me to come upstairs with Charlotte in his bed.
“I was very deeply hurt when I saw her there,” I admit. “I know I have no right to be hurt, but that was how I felt.”
“And I told her I’d never forgive her for what she did. I never forgave her for spiking your chocolates with strawberry juice to begin with, but this is inexcusable. I threw her out. I don’t ever want to see or speak to that ignorant piece of trash again,” he declares.
What a relief it is to hear that. “You never forgave her for that?”
“That was a low thing to do to you. You’re just a sweet thing. You’ve never hurt her.”
I tilt my head to the side as though I’m ignorant of the truth. “I thought you were still in love with her. I thought that was why we were here to begin with?”
For the first time in my presence, Brock flushes.
I actually got him to flush. It takes all my self-control not to jump up from the sofa and pump my fist in triumph.
“Yes. That. It’s a long story.”
“I have time,” I assure him, leaning against the cushions. It’s nice, feeling like I’m the one in control for once. Watching him squirm a little. Knowing who he really is, and how he knew me from the start goes a long way toward humanizing him.
“Suffice it to say I never cared about her. You’re the one I wanted.” He moves closer. Tentative at first, as though he fears I’ll run away. When I don’t, he gets more confident, and shifts closer. “I wanted you from the very beginning. I didn’t know any other way to get you into my life.”
“You could’ve just said you wanted to get to know me better,” I suggest, raising an eyebrow.
“And if you said no, that would’ve been the end of it. I couldn’t take that chance.”
“So you chose to bribe me? Is that it? You took advantage when you knew I didn’t have any money, and you’re loaded?”
“I guessed you’d be too proud to accept charity, and that would be how you’d see it. As charity. I wanted to help you, and I still do. I want you to have every good thing you deserve. And you deserve a hell of a lot more than being so exhausted that you passed out on my bed. So, I came up with this plan.”
“Scheme. Plot.”
“Plan,” he insists.
He’s so close I can feel his breath on my face and smell his cologne as he wraps himself around my senses. He has a way of doing that. I could forgive him of anything in this moment. And there isn’t anything to forgive, not really. I know why he did it. I wish he’d been honest, but at least I understand where he was coming from. And who wouldn’t be flattered? Even touched?
I place my palm against his chest, and feel his heart pounding. He’s so warm and real, and he’s right here, wanting to be mine. I can feel it, and that knowledge crackles between us. It practically lights up the room. The energy between us is so strong I feel it on my skin. Even so, there’s one thing he has to know first. I take a deep breath and say it, “I remember you now. From when we were kids.”
A little of the light leaves his eyes. “What?”
“I remember you from that day. In the schoolyard.”
“You do?”
He sounds so hopeful, like a little boy. It’s enough to crack my heart open. I nod slowly. “You were standing there, against the wall. Watching me. I was so ashamed. Not just of what I was doing, but of me. For being poor, for having to sink so low as to sell kisses just to put food on the table that night. That was what made me run away, that shame.”
“So it wasn’t the fat, greasy, smelly kid who was waiting for a kiss? He’s not the reason you ran?”
I frown. “No. I wished it was you I was kissing, instead of all the rest of them.”
“That’s good to hear. I always did wonder about that.” He smiles, tilting his head to the side, staring deep into my eyes. “Because I wasn’t the boy watching from against the wall. I was the fat kid who was waiting to kiss you.”
The truth hits me like a slap in the face. That boy had dark hair too, and blue eyes. Only I hadn’t been paying attention to him. I never had. I shake my head in wonder. “You were him.”
He nods, and I see a sad flash of that bullied, unpopular fat boy all over again.
“I’m glad you are him. I never forgot you. I always felt bad about you. I took the money and never said thank you or gave you your kiss. You lost all that weight?”
He grins. “Yeah, I stopped eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and went to the gym.”
“Oh Brock. I’m sorry if I hurt you all those years ago. I was just a child.”
“I know. I never held it against you. And when you started to cry,” he continues, stroking my cheek with the back of his fingers. “I wanted to make it all better for you. I wanted to protect you and comfort you. I loved you even then.”
My eyes widen with surprise.
He nods. “Yes, I was a kid, but I did love you. I gave you all the money I had and told you to go home, because I didn’t want to see you do what you were doing to yourself. It was tearing me up inside to see you cry.”
I touch his face with a trembling hand. It was him. That sweet boy who shoved money into my hand and told me to go home. Who saved me from having to embarrass myself any further. Even then, all those years ago, he was trying to protect me. “Oh, Brock.”
“I loved you then, and I’m in love with you now,” he whispers, still holding onto my chin and using it to draw my face closer. “I love you, Dani.”
“And I love you,” I breathe the words out before a deep, searing kiss rocks me to my core and sets the rest of my life on course.
A life with this man, loving him and letting him love me. I couldn’t ask for anything more.
Epilogue (1)
Dani
One Year Later
“To you.” Brock raises the champagne flute with a smile, and touches it to the one I’m holding.
The fizzy liquid tickles my tongue. I take just the tiniest sip, savoring it right along with the feeling of success. “To me?” I point to myself. “You’re the one who made it possible for me to go to school full-time, even over the summer. I never could’ve done it on my own. It would’ve taken two or three years at the rate I was going.”
He looks so handsome, standing in front of the fireplace in the living room of our penthouse. Our penthouse. The thought of anything so extravagant being mine still surprises me, even after a year.
His smile widens. “I never really had the chance to do something truly worthwhile with my money. Charity, sure, but you gave me the chance to see the money being put to good use. I had a connection to the outcome. That meant everything.”
“Well, gee. I’m glad I could do that for you.” I giggle.
His lighthearted chuckle shows me how far he’s come. Still serious when the situation calls for it, still a bulldog when it comes to getting his way—especially in business—b
ut when it’s just the two of us, he’s like a totally different person. Relaxed, sweet, indulgent. Everything I ever could’ve asked for, but never thought existed.
The face of his Rolex catches my eye, and I let out a gasp of surprise. “We’ll be late for our reservation if we don’t get a move on. I know how much you hate being late.”
“Who, me?”
I shake my head and roll my eyes. He hasn’t changed all that much. Still a stickler for being on time. I had my choice of any restaurant in the city for our celebration dinner, and Lord knows there were plenty to choose from.
He’s opened my eyes in a million ways, large and small, and our faces are familiar ones in at least a dozen or two of the city’s top establishments. Even so, there’s only one place that came to mind when it came time to choosing the location—the place where we had our first date, which wasn’t a date at the time but was definitely the night when I first started falling in love with him. There’s a beautiful symmetry to it.
It isn’t until we’ve settled in at our favorite table that he leans over and takes my hand. “What’s next, then?”
“Next?”
“For you? What do you want to do, now that school’s over? Travel? Grad school? You realize you can do anything. I wouldn’t deny you for the world. Just name it.”
I pretend to think about it, looking up at the ceiling as I chew my bottom lip. “I don’t know. There’s a project I’ve had in mind.”
“Really? You never mentioned anything about a project.”
“Well, I only started really thinking about it a few hours ago.”
“What’s it all about?”
The best part of all of this is how innocent he is. Totally clueless. I don’t know whether to laugh or kiss him. “It’s sort of long-term,” I start, winding my fingers around his. “Extremely, actually.”
His eyes narrow. “You’re considering something long-term and you didn’t mention it to me until now?”
“I can’t help it.” I shrug, biting back a smile. “If anything, you’re the one responsible.”
Kissing Booth Page 15
