Fall for Him

by J.C. Valentine

  “I, well, I—” Darren fumbles, and then looks to me, desperate for an out.

  I sigh knowing the right thing to do is to give in to him. “That’s very generous of you,” I say cordially. “Thank you, Mr. Scott.”

  Rebel’s eyes dance with dark intent at the formality, and I know I’ve just stepped even deeper into the pile. Calling him Mr. Scott gets him off in a big way.

  “Excellent. My car is this way.”

  With one final glace back at Darren, I mouth to him, “You owe me so bad.”

  Darren nods vigorously in agreement. Even from a few feet away, I can tell that he’s already shedding the weight of tension he wore in front of Rebel. Unfortunately, I seem to have picked it up along with a few pounds of my own.

  The tension only gets worse when Rebel places his hand on the small of my back, bringing our bodies closer as he continues to guide me forward. But that isn’t what raises my hackles. It’s the flaming redhead walking straight for us like the devil is on her heels.

  “Mr. Scott,” she calls out, her voice smooth and seductive. It reminds me of a phone sex operator. Even though I instinctively hate every cell in her body, I can see why men are attracted to her. I just wish Rebel wasn’t among them.

  Rebel comes to a slow stop. I would keep going, right on out the leaded glass doors, but his fingers curling into my side tell me different. I’ll be staying right here. Wonderful.

  Florence is dressed similarly to me with a long, fitted skirt and blouse tucked in. Only her version of the outfit is much smaller, making it racy while mine is much more conservative and appropriate for the workplace. Damn.

  Her eyes are focused solely on Rebel as she approaches, and when she begins speaking to him, it’s as if I’m not even there.

  “I’m glad I caught you before you left,” she says, a sly smile curving her cherry red lips. “I have some papers I’d like you to look over for me.”

  “I’m heading out.”

  “This evening then. After work.”

  “I have plans this evening,” Rebel replies, his voice firm. “What kind of papers are we talking about?”

  “The kind that can’t wait.”

  “Nothing that requires a signature is ever that pressing. Come on.” Dropping his hand from my back, I’m surprised to feel Rebel’s hand slip into mine. I feel a small smile tug into place as Florence’s gaze drops to our joined hands, now forced to acknowledge me.

  Rebel’s pulling me toward the door in the next moment, and I am more than happy to oblige this time. Anything to get me away from this shrew of a woman. And anything to see that look of hurt deepen.

  “Did you know that Donnelly is selling his stock?” Florence calls out again.

  Rebel stops dead in his tracks, his shoulders stiffening. I’m left trying to keep up. I knew from our trip to Maine that Jack planned to sell out, and from the way he talked, he was giving it all to Rebel. I also got the impression that Florence wasn’t supposed to know about any of it, so the fact that she clearly does can only be a bad thing. Unless she doesn’t know the whole story.

  I find myself feeling slightly worried as Rebel turns back around, again steering me along with him. I just want to leave, but I also want to stay and see how all of this ends.

  “You spoke to Jack?” Rebel asks, his voice tight.

  Sauntering toward us, the sunlight coming through the windows hits Florence just right, making her look absolutely stunning. I wish I could blame it on the angle and claim that she was one of those women who only looked good in certain lighting, like candlelight, but she’s pretty enough to be a threat. If only her outside matched her insides...

  “No, Jack has been unreachable all day. A little birdy whispered it in my ear.”

  “Ah, well,” Rebel chuckles. “You know what they say about believing everything you hear.”

  “In this case, my bird happens to be very reliable. Jack is selling his half of the company, which means it’s about to be wide open.”

  “What are you trying to tell me, Florence?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Glancing at me, she gives me a once-over that makes me feel reduced to a foot tall.

  Have I mentioned how much I hate this woman? I’d rather shove a pick in my eye than continue standing here subjecting myself to this kind of treatment.

  In a voice pitched low for dramatic effect, I watch as Florence turns the dial up on her seduction, and I feel like puking. If she gets any closer to Rebel, her boobs are going to be pressed up against both of us.

  “I’m telling you that this is our chance. I plan on buying up the final two percent making me majority shareholder. If you buy up the other forty-nine, we could be partners. Imagine what we could do for this company. Imagine the changes we could make together.”

  Looking up, I try to read Rebel’s expression, but he’s as blank as a sheet of paper. But if I know Rebel, his silence means he’s considering it. Why wouldn’t he? They’re a couple after all, right? Who wouldn’t want to work side by side with their lover?

  The power couple is forming right before my eyes, and the longer I stand here watching it happen, the more my stomach twists. I might want to break these two apart, but how? How do I do that when they are so closely connected and without being obvious? If I’m going to do this, I want to come out the other end clean as a whistle while they crash and burn in the filth of their lies.

  “It’s certainly something to think about,” Rebel says, his whole demeanor a blank canvas, leaving no room for interpretation. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

  “When tomorrow? Why not tonight?” Florence presses.

  I resist rolling my eyes. This woman does not wear desperation well. And yet, it seems to be working for her.

  “As I said, I have plans tonight. Speak with my assistant, and she’ll slot you in.”

  Slot her in. I know by the look on her face that Florence is just as surprised by his brush-off as I am. I also know by the way she sends her scathing glare my way that she blames me for his rude behavior.

  I smirk in return as Rebel resumes leading me out the doors. There’s only one thought in my head as his driver, Gerardo, opens the door and I climb into the backseat: That’s right, bitch. I win this round.

  Six

  I know exactly where Rebel is taking me before we’ve made it more than two blocks from work. I should have known he had something up his sleeve when he told Florence that he had plans for the evening, but I was too preoccupied with staying collected to put much thought into the remark.

  Now I wish I would have been paying closer attention.

  “Rebel, I just want to go home,” I say, releasing a pent up sigh as I glance across the seat to him. For the briefest moment, I consider playing the sick card, but why bother when we both know it was a lie.

  Rebel is wearing that maddening smile of his that’s barely there, but still manages to send a shiver down my spine. It’s as devious as it is sexy. It tells me he has a lot on his mind, and it probably doesn’t involve clothing.

  “That’s where we’re going,” he replies smoothly.

  I roll my eyes in response. “Not your home.” My body begins to vibrate with rising anger, but I catch myself before I do or say anything that will ruin my plans. I have to see this through, even if it means going down paths that could hurt me in the end.

  “You’d rather go to yours? Fine by me. I’ll have Gerardo turn the car around.” Leaning forward, Rebel lifts his hand to knock on the darkened partition. Reaching out, I place my hand on his arm, stopping him.

  “No, your place is fine,” I tell him. In fact, it’s perfect. Being at Rebel’s place means that I won’t have to deal with him in mine or the memories it’s bound to turn up. Being at his though? I have more than a few bad memories to fall back on if I need something to keep me strong. It was in Rebel’s apartment that I learned I was sleeping with twin brothers. It was in his apartment that I saw Florence giving him a blow job. And it was in his apartment where those photogr
aphs he sent me originated.

  Rebel’s hand reaches toward mine where it now rests on the black leather between us. I watch as his long fingers trace the tops of my fingers, the gentle caress of his skin against mine creating a coil of heat in my core and dredging up a moan from deep inside my chest. Somehow, I manage to get a hold of myself before it can come out, and I force it back down, determined to keep my head around this man. I can’t let this sweet, caring side that he’s suddenly adopted get me off track.

  Stick to the plan, Josephine!

  “You’re not afraid my brother will be there?” Rebel asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  “Will he be?”

  “No.” The corners of his lips twist slowly, and I get the distinct impression that he’s hoping I’ll ask him to elaborate.

  Fine, I’ll bite. “Is he teaching today?” I inquire. Although I’m not particularly interested in seeing Ransom, I have to admit that Rebel’s behavior intrigues me. Did something happen to Ransom?

  “I wouldn’t know,” Rebel hedges, then, taking hold of my hand and pulling it onto his hard thigh, he laces our fingers together, his grip tight. “I kicked him out.”

  My eyes shoot wide. “You what? Why?”

  Rebel’s dark eyes meet mine and despite it being the middle of the day, it feels as if darkness has fallen. “I couldn’t continue living with him. Every time I look at him all I can picture is him fucking you. You have no idea how that screws with a man’s head.”

  I can imagine. If either of them took a walk in my shoes? Well, let’s just say I doubt they’d be walking around looking so damn smug all the time. “Does he have anywhere to go?”

  Rebel’s black brow arches a fraction as if he’s wondering why I’d ask such a question. “Are you hoping to stop by and do his laundry for him? Maybe give him a blow job while you’re at it?”

  “No, I think that’s more your speed,” I snipe back, irritated that he’d draw that type of conclusion about me. It’s just more fodder for my revenge cannon. Yanking at my hand, I try to take it back, but predictably, Rebel refuses to let me go.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he casts his gaze out the window. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  Taking his lead, I stare out my window. I may not have possession of my own hand, but he can’t force me to look at him. “Oh, yes, you did,” I bite out.

  He inhales another deep breath, and then Rebel makes a liar out of me. I feel his body shift on the seat, and then he is grasping my chin and turning my head toward him. “Look at me, Josephine,” he commands when I continue to struggle against him. It’s disgusting how quickly I comply. It’s as if he has some kind of supernatural control over my body. All he has to do is use that voice, and I surrender completely.

  “That’s better,” he murmurs, his midnight gaze holding mine. His thumb tracks across my bottom lip, smearing my lipstick as he watches. Everything that involves Rebel involves destruction. He’s destroyed my body and mind, and now, if I’m not careful, my spirit will be next. He knows exactly how to play me in order to get the results he’s looking for.

  “Do you really think I would purposefully hurt you?”

  “You have before.”

  “Aside from the physical,” he says, exasperated.

  “Again, you have before,” I tell him, staring him in the eyes. I want him to see just how badly he’s dug the knife in, but I also want him to see that he hasn’t broken me. If that was his goal, he’s lost. But the longer we stare into each other’s eyes, the more the doubt begins creeping in.

  Rebel looks saddened by my words. Is he regretful of his actions...or did he just not realize that he was hurting me with them? I find both options difficult to believe. Rebel doesn’t do anything that isn’t deliberate. Every move he makes is calculated. He’s a very purposeful man.

  “I’m sorry, pussycat,” he says softly, causing a twinge of misplaced warmth to slither into my chest. I draw back at the sensation, cautious not to allow it in too deep. “That was never my intention.”

  Instant anger erupts in my gut, and I feel my body hum with it. I want to scream at him, to unleash all the hurt that’s built up inside of me so he knows what it feels like to be me. Thankfully, the car pulls to a stop, giving me the out I so desperately need.

  “I changed my mind,” I tell him as I throw open the door. “I can’t do this with you.” Fuck you. Have a nice life. Sayonara. They’re all responses that form on my tongue that I have to swallow back down.

  At least I know where I’m at, and since it’s rush hour, there are cabs everywhere. It won’t take me long to catch one. It’s just a matter of whether or not Rebel will catch me first.

  “Josephine, where in the hell do you think you’re going?” Rebel bellows behind me as I rush down the sidewalk, weaving my way through pedestrians. They’re giving me weird looks, making me feel like a criminal being pursued by the cops. “Get your ass back here and talk to me you stubborn...”

  I hear the frustration in his voice. For a brief moment, it gives me pause, but I force myself to keep going. I can’t worry about his feeling right now when mine are so jumbled. What I need—desperately—is space.

  I don’t know how long or how far Rebel chases me, but I eventually find a cab that’s pulling up to a curb a block away from Rebel’s apartment. As the passenger gets out, I grab the door before they can close it and hop inside. I tell the driver where to go, all the while searching for signs of Rebel, but I don’t see him anywhere.

  I don’t breathe fully until I reach my apartment. Even then, I perform a thorough search, just in case he somehow found himself a key. Yes, my locks have been changed since Ransom was last here, but it seems important to remember not to put anything past either of them.

  I head straight for the shower, turning the temperature up hot enough to burn my skin red, and it does wonders in silencing my brain. I need the quiet, especially after these last two days. The escape from my thoughts is welcome. It’s a challenge to keep them at bay when I lay down in bed for the night, though. I keep trying to picture this stupid black screen, but it just reminds me of Rebel’s eyes and hair and, well, pretty much everything about him, and I end up back at square one.

  Remembering a trick that Annie once told me about, I focus my thoughts on something bright and cheerful. A meadow of daisies blanketed in sunshine unfolds behind my closed lids, but I struggle to hold onto it. Before I know it, Rebel is trudging through the flowers, smashing them all under his polished loafers as he comes for me.

  It seems that no matter what I do, I can’t escape him. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something.

  Or maybe I really have lost my ever-loving mind.

  Seven

  I’m in the freezer section of a Kroger searching for the right kind of frozen yogurt to satisfy my craving when someone bumps into my cart.

  Jerking my head up, I feel my confusion shift quickly into shock before rolling into a sense of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  When I got out of bed this morning, I thought my biggest hurdle would be to deal with Rebel, and after the way the evening went yesterday, I expected him to raise hell. Instead, he left me alone. I’d dodged a bullet—or so I thought—and to celebrate, I planned on eating my weight in creamy frozen treats. The last person I considered running into was Ransom.

  “Hey, Joe,” he says with a pleasant smile. “I didn’t know you shopped here.”

  “I think half the city shops here,” I say with a chuckle.

  His dark eyes scan me from head to toe in appreciation. “You look good.”

  “Oh...thanks.” I brush my hands down my old and faded top—a cut up sweatshirt from my college days that’s less than flattering. Then I touch my hair, feeling the myriad bumps and tangles that make up the sloppy bun. “You look good, too.” He looks more than good actually.

  Dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a cream colored cashmere sweater with the sleeves pushed up to the elbows and his hair combed and styl
ed, he’s a sexy-as-sin bachelor and next to him, I’m the girl voted most likely to own a hundred feral cats.

  It’s so not fair. He probably rolled out of bed looking that good.

  “I see you’ve covered all the essential food groups,” Ransom teases as he peers at what I have in my cart.

  Taking stock of the cookie packages, donuts, frozen pizza bites, pop, and the frozen yogurt I’m about to add, I laugh at the absurdity of it. “I’m celebrating,” I explain.

  His brows rise. “Oh? What are you celebrating?”

  Damn. I realize I’ve stuck my foot in my mouth and scramble for an excuse. “Oh, I just got a new job.” Double damn. I already know that this is going to lead to more questions that I don’t want to answer.

  “Oh yeah, where at?” The sad thing about this conversation is that he appears genuinely interested.

  I feel the distance that’s been placed between us like a giant wedge. Thinking back on the way I dealt with him at the park and the look on his face when I told him that I had chosen his brother over him, I feel like the biggest fool to walk the planet.

  Well, I can’t rewrite history. The only thing I can do now is suck it up and make the best of what’s left.

  “Um...” Scratching the back of my neck, I peer up at him from beneath my lashes, feeling more than a little awkward. “Donnelly and Townsend.”

  I swear I can see the shockwave ripple through him. Ransom stands there for a moment, absorbing the news. “That’s, uh, that’s good,” he says slowly. “So, I take it you and Rebel are still going strong.”

  I have to give him credit. He’s trying. I don’t know that I could keep such a straight face if the roles were reversed. “Um, not exactly. We kind of...broke up. It just wasn’t going to work out,” I add, feeling like I need to explain myself for some reason.