Ruined: A Contemporary Bad Boy Romance

by Lisa Lace

  I put on the little purple-blue dress that I’ve had since forever. It’s the same one that my mom told me was too short when I was nineteen. It’s almost certainly too short now. It’s the only dress I own that looks like something a young, single woman would put on. Everything else seems to be a chunky knit, paisley, or something my mom would wear.

  I match it with a pair of slinky stilettos, then twist and turn in front of the mirror. I’m slim but womanly. The purplish velvet clings to my bust, the neckline rising above my collarbones. The material outlines my figure but doesn’t show an inch of cleavage. Instead, my legs are the star of the show, long and shapely. I feel miles high in my high heels and dark pantyhose. I color my lips with some berry pink lipstick, apply my mascara, brush out my hair, and I’m ready.

  At seven sharp, I hear a knock at my door. Butterflies dance in my stomach at the sound. I grab my purse and open it.

  Tom is dressed to the nines in a sharp black suit and tie. I’ve never seen a man so refined and sophisticated. When I first opened my door on Friday night, it was TJ that I saw. Tonight, I see Tom—the man I’d imagined.

  “You look great,” I tell him.

  He grins. I’m not sure if I’ve forgotten how to walk in heels this high, or if my knees just went weak.

  “And you look stunning. God, Zoe. I don’t think I’ll ever get over how much you’ve changed.”

  The desire in his voice makes me blush. I step out the door and lock it behind me. “I haven’t changed that much.”

  “Yes. You have.”

  “I’m still firetruck red.”

  Tom laughs. “You remember that.”

  I throw him a devilish smile. “I remember a lot of things.”

  “What can I say? I was young and dumb. Tonight, I can honestly say you’re a vision. A beautiful, vivacious redhead. I’m honored to have you as my date.”

  “I’m sure a lot of people would say I’m the lucky one. Thomas Vermont! As you said, you’re a big deal.”

  “I haven’t changed that much. What’s a few billion between friends?” He winks at me.

  I shake my head with disapproval but smile with amusement. Tom has a cocky charm that is just teetering on the right side of confidence. One word too far, and he’ll stride right across that line into arrogance.

  Tom takes me to Allegro. It’s a swanky new Japanese-American fusion restaurant that only recently opened on the outskirts of town. It’s already famous for its exclusive chef and top-tier wines.

  As much as Laura and I give Tom a hard time about his riches, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t nice to be spoiled for a change. There was something magical about sweeping into a luxury establishment on the arm of a roguishly handsome billionaire.

  People turn to stare at Tom. They gasp and whisper. It’s Thomas Vermont! It’s a strange feeling, watching their heads swivel like clockwork as we walk through the restaurant toward one of the best tables—a window seat overlooking the ocean.

  The sun is setting, casting magnificent pink and purple hues across the waves. We sit down, and I’m struck by the luxury of the table. The tablecloth is a fine burgundy cotton. I’m terrified of spilling my wine when Tom orders us a bottle of some exorbitant Bordeaux.

  The menus are leather-bound, with no prices. I think I remember reading somewhere that some places do that so that someone being taken out doesn’t worry about what their date is paying.

  I don’t think Tom worries much about the cost of dinner, even at a place like this.

  “Have you been here before?” I ask him.

  “It only opened last year.”

  “That’s a ‘no,’ then. I forget how long it’s been.”

  He laughs. “No, you don’t. Nobody does. It’s all I’ve heard about since I got back.”

  “What does it feel like to be back now?”

  Tom sits back in his chair, swilling the red wine inside its glass. He shrugs. “Like I never left.”

  “That’s good.”

  He makes a face. “Is it? There’s a reason I chose to leave Maine.”

  “Which is?”

  “It was just time to move on.”

  A waiter comes to take our order. Tom orders a wagyu beef steak. I order a hijiki seaweed salad.

  “When did you last go on a date?” I ask him.

  “It depends on what you classify as a date.”

  I smile, raising one eyebrow. “I’d like to think a person would know.”

  “Well, I have business ‘dates’; women I take to events for appearances. Then, there are the ‘dates’ I have that I don’t plan for.”

  “One-night stands?”

  “Funny enough, there seems to be no lack of interested women as soon as the platinum card comes out.”

  There’s that arrogance again.

  “Maybe you should stop flashing it around. It would give you a chance to meet women who were really interested.”

  “I guess that’s what was special about talking to you,” he replies. “You had no idea who I was, no idea what I did, or how much I earned. You didn’t even know what I looked like. Yet you gave me the time of day. You talked with me. You made me laugh. I made you laugh. That’s something that’s been missing for me: true companionship.”

  After a dangerous walk into arrogance territory, he’s managed to bring back the charm. Although, he raises a point I’ve been meaning to press him on.

  “Why did you work so hard to hide who you were from me, anyway? I would have figured out it was you in an instant if you’d not been so cloak-and-dagger about the whole thing.”

  “I didn’t want to be Thomas Vermont. I wanted to be Tom.”

  “Thomas Vermont, Tom, TJ. You wear a lot of hats.”

  He shrugs. “People have expectations. My family wants me to be one way. My staff expect me to be another. I thought the chance to be anonymous online would also be a chance to be me, all expectations aside. And, I don’t know about you, but that worked for me. I felt we clicked when all those labels were put aside. I wasn’t trying to manipulate anyone. I was simply trying to make things less complicated.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “That didn’t quite work out the way you hoped.”

  I don’t know whether it’s a line or not, but I warm to Tom when he talks about our online romance. Like him, I’ve appreciated the true companionship from our conversations.

  “I feel the same. Apart from Laura, I don’t really have anyone close to me. My parents are traveling. My friends have moved away over time. I’ve had no luck in the dating arena. It’s been me and my flowers for too long. I mean, Laura’s absolutely fantastic, but she’s so busy.”

  “She is,” Tom agrees. He drinks from his wine and places the glass down. His hand rests on the table, his Rolex gleaming from under his cuff. “Those kids are running her ragged.”

  I smile. “They’re good kids.”

  “They seem like good kids.”

  “Megan can be a bit sarcastic, but only when she feels she’s being patronized. And Jack, well, he’s just like any other five-year-old boy. A lot of energy.”

  “I’m looking forward to getting to know them better.”

  You will soon enough. I almost let the words slip out, but hold them in. Tom doesn’t yet know what Laura is planning. “When was the last time you took time off work?”

  Tom makes a face. He closes his eyes to calculate, then lifts up his hands. “God knows. Mike’s funeral, probably.”

  “Wow. Some might say you work too hard.”

  “You don’t have a choice when you’re in the position I am. I’m at the head of a huge corporation. I have to be there to manage my staff, or else it all falls apart.”

  Arrogant. “They’re managing without you this winter.”

  “I’m still in contact with the office,” Tom explains. “I’m doing a lot of work remotely. Skype meetings three times a day. Calls, messages. My PA keeps me in the loop. I’ve had eight calls from her since I’ve landed.”

  “Ah, yes. Sha
ron.”

  “How do you know who Sharon is?”

  “Laura talks about her all the time. They’re good friends.”

  “They are?”

  “Sure. She speaks to Sharon more than she speaks to you. They’ve sent each other Christmas cards for the last three years.”

  Tom looks surprised. “I didn’t know I was that hard to reach.”

  I shrug. “I only know what Laura tells me.”

  “I hope it’s not all bad.”

  “Don’t worry. I can form my own opinions.”

  “Really? I thought you were going to slam the door in my face when I showed up on Friday.”

  I laugh. “I was shocked.”

  “My reputation precedes me, as always. I know Laura doesn’t sugarcoat our issues.”

  “That’s not true. She loves you. She misses you like crazy.”

  “Misses me? Funny. I never really thought of us as getting along when we were younger. I’d never have described us as close.”

  “Close or not, you’re all the family she has left now.”

  “She’s the one who works too hard,” Tom says. “She shouldn’t be doing all these trips when she’s got kids to raise. She’s going to burn out.”

  “She is burning out, but that’s what it takes to run a business and raise a family. I take my hat off to her.”

  “She doesn’t need to work that hard. She knows I’d give her anything she needed.”

  “Laura likes to make her own way.”

  “She’s stubborn.”

  “She’s admirable.”

  Tom and I stare at each other, almost at a stand-off. There’s as much natural enmity between us as there is natural chemistry.

  I never liked TJ because I couldn’t stand his arrogance, and now that I’m getting to really know Tom, I’m finding that he carries the same fatal flaw.

  “She could have been just as successful as you if she hadn’t made the sacrifices—”

  “You mean looking after my Dad when he was sick?”

  “She still looks after your mom, too.”

  “Mom has around-the-clock care. I’ve paid for the very best.”

  “But it’s Laura who visits her.”

  Tom rolls his eyes. “Everyone in my family is a saint, and I’m the bad guy. You don’t need to tell me that, Zoe.”

  “I’m not saying anything. Jesus, Tom, you’re so defensive.”

  “It’s exhausting coming back here. I should have stayed in New York.”

  I’m filled with a surge of anger. I’ve waited months for this guy to arrive in Maine, only to find that he’s a sulky man-child with both a superiority and an inferiority complex all at once. I thought we had a connection, but I’m starting to feel that Tom only wants another person to stroke his ego.

  I roll my eyes. “Maybe you should have messaged a New Yorker, then.”

  “That wasn’t meant personally.”

  “Why did you even message me, anyway? You clearly detest Portland, so you were never going to stay. Did you simply want a way to fill the time while you were stuck at Laura’s?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  All Tom’s done since this date began has been to tell me how important he is at work, and how misunderstood he is. I’m already tired of his moaning. I’m disappointed. Tom was supposed to be the man of my dreams. Instead, he’s using this date as nothing more than an opportunity to throw himself a pity party.

  The waiter clears our plates, then asks if we want dessert.

  I shake my head. “No, thank you.”

  Tom looks up, perplexed. “Are you sure?” He glances at his watch. “It’s only a quarter to nine.”

  “I’m tired.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  I let my body slump and shrug wearily. “I don’t know about you, Tom, but this hasn’t felt like a date. You’ve gone to the effort to dress up and take me out, but all you’ve done is complain since the moment you sat down. I was looking forward to a real conversation like we’ve been having online. I’m not sure what this is. Maybe it’s too hard for you to separate the girl you used to know from the woman you’ve been talking to.”

  “Me? You’re the one bringing up Mike and Laura at every opportunity. You’re making this awkward. If my relationship with Laura made this too weird for you, you didn’t have to come out. Especially if you were just planning to lay into me on her behalf.”

  “It’s obvious this isn’t going to work out.”

  “I agree.”

  “Would you take me home, please?”

  “Sure.”

  Tom throws some money down on the table. He doesn’t even count it, just chucks a handful of hundred-dollar bills.

  I want to pay for myself if only to make the point that this isn’t a date, and I don’t care about his money. But with those stupid fancy menus, I don’t have any idea how much my meal cost, and the moment is growing more painful with every passing second.

  I force out a tight “thank you.”

  Tom responds tersely, “You’re welcome.”

  The car ride home is silent. Tom stalls it outside my apartment. It’s too awkward to wait for him to start up the engine again to park, so I open the door pointedly to step out.

  “I guess I’ll see you around, Tom.”

  “I guess.”

  He waits just long enough to see me safely enter my apartment, and then he drives away. I’m immediately filled with a crushing disappointment, and tears fill my eyes.

  After such a long time waiting and dreaming, this all seems like a horrible, cruel joke. I can’t stand the man I love. How unfair.

  Tom

  “Zoe said it didn’t go well.”

  I frown. Laura is sitting on a stool with a mug of coffee at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, wearing her polka-dot dressing gown and a judgmental expression. Her eyes are outlined by thick, dark circles, and without her makeup, she’s very pale.

  I pull up a stool beside her and pour my own cup of coffee. “What is it with you two talking about me? When did she call you?”

  “Last night, after you got in. She said you two decided it wasn’t going to work out.”

  “Seems that way.”

  “Huh. That’s a shame. You both seemed so pumped about this online thing. It’s all boiled down to nothing.”

  “That’s the way it goes sometimes.”

  Laura’s frown deepens, and she can’t contain her frustration anymore. She snaps at me, her voice full of exasperation. “How can you not get along with Zoe, Tom? She’s the nicest person in the world. What did you do?”

  I almost choke on my surprise. “Me? She started attacking me pretty much from the moment I picked her up.”

  “That’s not how she sees it.”

  “She’d already decided she wasn’t going to have a good time. I don’t even know why she bothered.”

  “Because she had feelings for Tom.”

  “I’m Tom. Doesn’t anybody seem to get that? TJ, Tom—they’re the same fucking person.”

  “Watch your language. Jack’s in the next room.”

  “Sorry.”

  Laura leans in toward me. She’s biting her lip like she’s nervous. “I wanted to talk to you about the kids.”

  “Really? What did I do now? Accidentally wear too expensive a watch? Use a grammatically incorrect sentence and irreparably damage their understanding of the English language?”

  “Actually, I have a favor to ask.”

  “It’s not like you to ask me for favors.”

  “I’ve got no other choice this time.” Laura looks up at me with big, pleading eyes. “My usual sitter called this morning. Her mom’s been rushed to the hospital. She’s in critical condition. She can’t look after the kids this time.”

  I understand what she’s asking me and quickly shake my head. “No. No way.”

  “Please, Tom!” Laura begs. “I can’t cancel this trip. It’s a huge event, worth thousands.”

  “I’ll pay for a different s
itter.”

  “I want you to look after them.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Were you planning this all along?”

  “No! The sitter called me, I swear.”

  “Why can’t Zoe do it?”

  “Zoe has to work, Tom. You’re going to be here anyway. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  “The big deal is that I can’t seem to do anything right around here, and I don’t want to have to answer to you when you get back for everything I screwed up while you were gone.”

  “I’ll leave you instructions, and Zoe will check in. Honestly, Tom, it’ll be easy.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Please.”

  “Why? You know someone else would do a better job than me.”

  “Because like it or not, you’re related to those kids. They’re your niece and nephew. They’re my son and daughter. And for the life of me, I can’t understand why that doesn’t seem to matter to you. You should want to know them.”

  “I do want to know them. I just don’t want to babysit them.”

  Laura scowls. “God, Tom, you’re impossible!”

  “What? Laura, you’re the one being unreasonable. I know you orchestrated this whole thing, but it’s not a good idea.”

  “That’s not true! The sitter called—”

  I raise an eyebrow. I’m onto her. “Get someone else. I’ll stay at a hotel for the week, then we’ll pick it up right before Thanksgiving.”

  “I want you to do this for me. Tom, I’m begging you. Please. When do I ever ask you for anything?”

  I look at her pained expression and feel that gnaw of guilt again. It’s true. No matter what I’ve had, Laura has never asked for a thing. She’s hardly asking for the world now: a week with my niece and nephew.

  “Fine. But I don’t appreciate the dishonesty, Laura. And I’m not taking responsibility for any broken bones, or God knows what else these kids may get themselves into.”

  Laura grins, leaps up from her stool, and throws her arm around my neck so enthusiastically that she spills half her coffee.

  I smile. It’s good to see Laura happy.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’ve got no idea how much this means to me.” She catches herself. “I mean, that you would step up when I’m out of options.”