by Odette Stone
“How long are you two going to pretend to be engaged?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “It’s such a mess. Mom promised to plan the wedding of the century.”
“She will, too.”
“All of this because I was pissed at Yates. Because I wanted to wipe that perma-smug look off his face. I need to learn some self-control.”
“I heard something about Yates.”
“What?”
“Kimmy said she heard a rumor that his father is having some financial trouble.”
“What? What kind of trouble?”
“I don’t know all the details, but apparently, it’s significant.”
“How significant?”
Her voice was serious. “Extremely significant.” She was holding something back.
“What else?”
“Kimmy doesn’t know everything.”
Okay. That meant that it was something big, and it was probably about me. “Spill it. Under the fourth agreement of the best friendship act, you’re obligated to tell me.”
“Don’t be mad.”
“Em, I won’t be mad.”
“Because that’s part of the fourth agreement, too. You can’t get mad.”
“Come on, tell me.”
“Kimmy said that’s why Yates is pursuing you again.”
“Why?” I was lost.
“Because.”
“Emily. Help me connect the dots.”
“Your money. Or you family’s money.”
White-hot rage blinded me for a moment. Suddenly, it all made sense. Yates’ family was in crisis. What did a wealthy family do when they were going bankrupt? Anything in their power to reverse the process.
What had Yates said to me at the gala? Quit screwing up his life. Ha! One of the reasons why I'd loved dating Yates was that money had never been an issue between us. We both came from wealthy families. He had his own inheritance. I never had to worry that he was dating me for mine.
He didn’t actually want me back. My face burned hot. All of this, this sham, was a stupid ploy to get to my father’s money. None of this even had anything to do with me.
“Say something,” Emily whispered in my ear. “I can tell you’re mad.”
“I’m not mad,” I said between clenched teeth.
“You are. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
I took three even, deep breaths. “I’m not mad at you, Em.”
“I think there’s a part of Yates that still loves you,” she said in a tiny voice. She was the one person who was always rooting for me. No matter what.
Tears stung my eyes. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
“When this shit storm passes, you mind if I head down there and spend a week hanging with you?”
“I’d love that. So would Theo.”
“I’m over my head here, Em.”
“You can do it.”
“I need to figure out what I’m doing.”
“You will.”
“Should I sleep with Porter?
“Yes!”
We both laughed.
“Okay.”
“Are you mad about Yates?”
“Livid.”
“Yeah, I thought so.”
“Any parting advice?”
“Yes. Don’t wait until your wedding day to break off your engagement. Sending all those gifts back was a real bitch.”
Chapter 24
The more I thought of Yates, the more the pieces fell into place. His family needed money, so he sought the nearest cash source. I may not take any money from Dad, but I was his sole heir.
Mom came from significant money, but Dad was in a different league. He’d taken his inherited fortune and worked his entire life to multiply that amount over and over again.
Yates knew my biggest weakness was my relationship with my parents, which was probably why he’d become Dad’s campaign manager. If he had my parents’ support, he could increase the pressure on me to take him back.
He must have been desperate. I gave a short laugh. My fake engagement with Porter must be messing with his plans. It was stupid, but that made me feel a tiny bit better.
A sleek black town car, like the one Mom and Dad used, rolled to a stop across the street. The driver exited and opened the back door. A man in a black suit and sunglasses unfolded himself from the back seat.
He straightened his lapels and walked towards me. I squinted at him. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. Was he a friend of my father? Where did I know him from?
He sat down on the bench beside me. It was probably in my best interest to leave, but it was broad daylight, and there were enough people around that I wasn’t too worried about my safety. I was, however, really curious about what he would say.
“Good afternoon, Beth.”
I turned my head towards him. “Do I know you?”
His eyes were hidden beneath his aviator sunglasses. “Michael Renner.”
The current mayor of New York?
I shifted to get a better look at him. “What do you want?”
He didn’t spare me a glance. “You’re father announced his candidacy.”
“So?”
“It might be in your best interest if you convince him otherwise.”
“Excuse me? What are you trying to say?”
He stood and peered down at me. “Your father doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into.”
Disbelief coursed through my veins. “What makes you think I have any power over him?”
He smiled benignly. “No one has more power over a man than his daughter.”
I swallowed hard. “You seek me out and make vague, underwhelming threats. My father must be a big threat to you.”
His smile never slipped. “Don’t test me.”
“Don’t threaten me,” I shot back.
His hand reached out, roughly grabbed my chin, and forced me to lift my face upwards towards him. “Feisty. You must know that’s my weakness.”
“Fuck you.” I knocked his hand away.
Again with the creepy smile. “In a different time, I’d take great pleasure in taming you.”
“In a different time, I’d take great pleasure kicking your balls back into your body.”
He reached out and lightly tapped my cheek with the flat of his hand. “Maybe when you’re father gets crushed in the elections, you’ll allow me to take you to dinner. There’s a lot I’d like to teach you.”
I glared. “You disgust me.”
He stood there for a long moment. “I look forward to the day when you beg me for forgiveness for speaking to me like this.”
The man scared me. Before I could reply, he was moving across the street. He entered his car, and it slowly pulled away.
What the fuck was that?
I looked up and down the street. The mayor of New York had verbally threatened me, and no one had noticed.
Suddenly, I didn’t feel that safe.
After driving aimlessly around the city for a few hours, I still had no answers. I was avoiding Porter and my apartment. I didn’t want to see him until I had this sorted out.
I should set the guy free so that he could move forward and figure his life out. I should be honest with my parents and jump off this runaway train before my lies took us all down.
If I came forward with my secrets, would Porter still want to sleep with me? Would he move out? I wouldn’t lie—I had a serious case of lust for that guy. Call me selfish, but for once in my life, I wanted to experience mind-blowing sex.
God knew, despite my best efforts, I was well on the path of everyone around me. Marrying some guy, who’d give me 2.5 kids and a home in the Hamptons. Another Yates, hopefully without the cheating. Was it wrong to want to experience something amazing? I was under no illusion that Porter and I had a future, but damn, I wanted a taste of what he offered.
I had no answers. Not for Porter. Not for myself. Tired of driving, I made my way home. Porter’s truck wasn’t in
any of the visitors' stalls, so I let myself into the apartment with ease.
It was dark and completely silent. I dropped my bag and kicked off my shoes, before turning on some lights. Seeing Porter’s boxes still stacked against the wall made me breathe a sigh of relief.
I wandered over to the island, where he’d left another note:
Went to grab some takeout for us. Hope you’re hungry.
For a fake-boyfriend, he set the bar high for all future relationships.
I changed into yoga pants and a soft t-shirt, opened a bottle of wine, and tasted my first glorious sip when he walked in the door. He paused when he saw me. Our eyes met over the wine glass.
“Hope you like Thai food.” He carried two white paper bags to me.
“Thai Heaven is one of my favorite places to eat.” I grabbed plates.
In silence, we opened containers and filled our plates. He had pinned me against my car while kissing me! I wracked my brain for a thousand things to say, but he was the one person capable of making me tongue-tied. So, we ate in silence.
“How’s your food?” he finally broke the ice.
“Delicious. Especially the awkward silence.”
He smiled into his beer can. “Want to talk?”
“Depends on what the topic of conversation is.”
“Did you talk to your parents?”
“No.”
“So, we’re still engaged.”
“For now.”
He looked down at my granny’s ring that sparkled on my finger. “Are you going to wear that ring?”
“A girl needs some perks for taking a wrecking ball to her own life.”
“What did you do this afternoon?”
“I talked to Emily.”
Amusement twinkled in his eyes. “Oh.”
“What’s that look for?”
“Trying to imagine that conversation.”
I took my time answering. “I might have told her some things.”
“And?”
“And,” I played with my chopsticks, “she approves of all things Porter.”
“Does she?”
“She does.”
“Tell me something else.” He held my gaze.
“I saw the mayor today.”
“Of New York?”
“The one and only.”
“What happened?”
“I was sitting on a bench, and his car rolled up. He came and sat beside me. He knew my name.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me it was in my best interest to convince my father not to run for mayor.” I could feel the shift in Porter.
He’d been relaxed, but now, alertness filled his every crevice. “What did you say?”
“I’m paraphrasing a bit, but I told him I wanted to kick him in the nuts.”
“What else?”
I glanced down at my plate. “He grabbed my face.”
“Motherfucker.” Porter's eyes were like grey ice.
“And he said something about taming me and looking forward to making me beg for forgiveness.”
“You’re telling me that Michael Renner threatened you, touched you, then threatened you again?”
I shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”
“I beg to differ.”
We stared at each other.
He lifted his hand and gently pushed a strand of hair off my face. “Are you okay?”
For reasons I couldn’t even begin to explain, that gesture made me want to burst into tears.
I am Beth Stirling. I don’t cry.
I gave him my best wry smile. “I’m fine.”
“Did he hurt you?” Damn those grey eyes and the way they seemed to see all the messy parts of me.
“He scared me a bit.”
“I’m going to kill that motherfucker,” Porter promised as he stood.
I grabbed his hand. “No, it’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Please. This is my father’s stuff. This is typical political intimidation.”
“You’re father will want to know about this.”
“No,” I urged. “Absolutely not. He’d have the same reaction, only worse.”
“Good. One of us needs to take care of this. So, it’s either your dad or me, Beth.”
“No.” I shook my head. “Renner isn’t going to do anything more than a few idle threats. But he wants to trip up my dad. And this is exactly how he’d do it.”
He picked up our plates, stood there for a moment, and with complete frustration, carelessly tossed them in the sink with a loud clatter, food and all. He turned and focused on me, his hands fisted at his side. He was about to speak, and I was pretty sure I didn’t want to hear what he had to say.
I beat him to the punch. “Promise me you won’t do anything.”
He leaned over the counter at me. “Why’d you tell me if you didn’t want me to take care of this?”
Because if my body ends up in some river, I want one person to know.
“Just wanted to tell a friend.”
He went completely still. He stared at me while frustration rolled off him. And then he was moving, taking his keys and wallet with him.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
The door slammed behind him.
Chapter 25
It was after midnight and Porter still hadn’t come home. I’d cleaned the kitchen, paced, drank wine, paced, checked my phone about a hundred times, paced, bathed until the water turned cold, and paced some more.
Porter was unpredictable, and I had no idea if he’d respect my wishes and leave this alone or take matters into his own hands—maybe even tell my father? I honestly couldn’t take the tension anymore. I needed to chill out.
I pulled on a tank top and a pair of panties before I climbed into bed, begging sleep to take me.
I startled awake. A dim light crept into my room from the hallway, and I followed it into the living room. The stove’s exhaust light cast long shadows around the room.
Porter sat, fully dressed, on the couch. In the dim light, his expression was hard to read.
I hovered by the hallway. “You’re home.”
“I am,” he said flatly.
I wrapped my arms around my waist, feeling too exposed near him. “Did you go talk to my dad?”
“No.”
“How about anyone else?”
“I respected your wishes, Beth.” His gravel tone sounded unimpressed.
“Thank you.” Unsure, I stood silently, taking in his face and body. “Where did you go?”
“A bar.”
Oh.
“Are you drunk?”
“I drank.”
I felt like I should have said something, but words failed me.
He turned his face away from me. “I don’t have a lot of self-control right now, Beth. You should go back to bed.”
I shivered in anticipation at his low tone. “Are you telling me you’re in a bossy mood?”
He met my eyes, piercing me with their intensity. “You don’t know the half of it.”
I hesitated, wanting to find out exactly how bossy this man could get, and partly fearing where that would lead us. “That sounds like a warning.”
“That’s exactly what that was.” His eyes trailed down my body with such heat, it staggered me.
I couldn’t remember the last time a man had looked at me like that.
“Come here,” he instructed.
I took a few steps closer.
“Closer.”
I moved up to stand between his open legs. He reached up and grabbed my wrist, tugging me down, so I straddled his lap. I wanted more than anything to touch him, but instead, I sat on his muscular thighs and appraised him.
“You pissed me off at dinner tonight.” He brushed my hair back off my shoulder.
“I know.”
“You think I can’t protect you?”
“I know you can. I’m just not sure it’s your job.”
“I’m a SEAL. It's my job to defend and protect.”
I chewed on my bottom lip. “I meant, I’m not sure if it’s your job to protect me.”
“Don’t see anyone else fighting for the position.”
“Well,” I swallowed, “these days, that’s the plight of a single Manhattan woman.”
He traced one long finger over my tank top, down my sternum, between my breasts and down to my belly button. Our eyes met.
His voice vibrated low, “If we cross the line here, I don’t care what we’re calling this, it’ll become my responsibility to protect you.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t let anyone fuck with what’s mine.”
Oh.
My mouth parted in shock. Lust. Desire. But mostly shock.
His thumb slipped under my shirt, brushing against my bare stomach. He cocked his head slightly. “You got a problem with that?”
“With me becoming yours or you protecting me?”
“Either.”
“No problem,” I breathed.
Who the fuck was this guy? I examined his face, willing his gorgeous features to reveal the mystery I called Porter. With one smooth movement, he stood and flipped me around until I sat on the couch and he knelt between my legs.
I gasped when he yanked me down, so my ass was on the edge of the couch. The way he smiled should’ve scared me, but it thrilled me to my core.
“Lift up your hips,” he instructed.
My feet went on tippy toes on the floor, and my breath caught in my throat when he yanked my panties down my legs. He tossed the offending fabric over his shoulder and pushed my legs apart, spreading them wide, exposing me to him completely.
Holy fuck.
Eyes wide, I clutched the couch and watched, mesmerized, as his big hands pushed beneath my tank top until it bunched up, exposing my chest. He grabbed my hands and placed them on my breasts.
“That’s where your hands belong. Playing with those gorgeous nipples.”
I laid there, not moving. Not playing.
“Show me,” his rough voice encouraged me.
With shaking fingers, I plucked at my sensitive nipples, toying with the hard, pebbled buds. He watched me for a few moments, hunger devouring his gaze. Satisfied, he lowered his face between my legs. His lips nibbled on the soft inner skin of my thigh, grazing his teeth against the skin. Our eyes met.
