Twisted Love: A Bad Boy Romance

by Lily Knight

  “Wow!” I exclaimed, trying to contain my enthusiasm. “Are you serious? I could fly out to New York just to go shopping? That would be... that would be amazing!”

  Ben grinned. “For you – anything.”

  “If you're sure that's okay...”

  “I'm very sure. Go on! Go to the Big Apple and have yourself some fun. You deserve to.”

  “Oh wow, Ben, that's just... nobody has ever done anything like this for me before. I don't even know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. Just have fun. Find yourself a beautiful gown, and get yourself looking as gorgeous as possible. Not that you have to do anything to make that happen.”

  I laughed. “Thank you, Ben. I’m floored. This is very sweet and thoughtful.”

  “Well, so was dinner, so . . . it’s only fair,” he winked across at me and I had to tamp down the butterflies.

  We finished up our dessert, and then sat simply looking at each other for a few drawn-out moments. It was by no means an uncomfortable silence. In fact, I felt very relaxed and totally at ease. Eventually, Ben smiled and got up.

  “I'll have the housekeeper clear up the table and wash the dishes,” he said. “Why don't you go relax in a nice warm bath? You've had a long day. I gotta get to bed early. I have to be up early tomorrow. More work... it never ends. Here’s the credit card,” he pulled a platinum card from his wallet and handed it to me. “Book whatever flight you want—first class. And in New York, don’t skimp on whatever you want. I mean that. Don’t even look at the price tags on the dresses. Get the one you love.”

  “Thank you, Ben,” I said. “I really appreciate that.”

  The electricity dancing between us almost had me asking him to join me in the bath... but part of me wasn't quite ready to take that step just yet.

  He got up and walked off to his room, and I went off to my room and started running a hot bath. It had been a great evening, and I suspected that the next day would be even better. I undressed for the bath and smiled with contentment as I eased myself into the warm water, still halfway wishing I’d invited Ben.

  ***

  After a day of shopping and pampering, I honestly felt like I was in a fairy tale I had picked out a gorgeous deep blue, strapless ballgown with a long slit up one thigh. It hugged my curves in just the right ways. I’d never felt more beautiful. And the gown was most certainly the most beautiful thing I’d ever worn, not to mention the most expensive item of clothing I had ever owned.

  I had to force myself not to show my satisfaction when Ben’s eyes widened a little and I saw him try to hide the fact that he had to catch his breath a little when I walked out. But he wasn’t the only one finding it hard to breathe. Ben looked dashingly handsome in his black tuxedo. His dark eyes smoldered with passion, and his strong jaw enhanced the image of physical power and masculinity he exuded. He looked like a movie star – and I was the girl lucky enough to be on his arm.

  We walked into the Detroit Yacht Club arm in arm. The place was decked out for a ball like something I’d only ever seen in movies. I'd never been to any sort of event that was even remotely as luxurious as this. And there next to me, with his strong, muscular arm linked through mine, was the man who had made all of this possible.

  I couldn't believe how my feelings toward Ben had changed in recent weeks. I had gone from feeling like an alien—or worse, a prisoner, in his penthouse—to not only getting used to the luxurious surroundings of it, but actually thinking of it as home. I still missed my little apartment above the diner, but nowadays I had grown comfortable within the walls of the penthouse.

  More importantly though, I had grown comfortable with Ben, and had gotten to know him in ways I hadn’t expected. And I had found out that despite the nature of his work, he was a good man. He had a good heart, and it was more than obvious that he cared for me very, very deeply.

  And here, at this ball, with its fairy-tale like feel, I felt as if it might be the right time to move things forward, to really take things to the next level with Ben. What a perfect place this would be for our first kiss!

  We walked in, and Ben immediately started introducing me to all sorts of people, seemingly the cream of the crop of Detroit's business and civic communities. And everyone I met seemed to take an instant liking to me – I got plenty of very complimentary comments about my gorgeous gown, and m natural beauty. I had to admit that I felt more beautiful than I ever had before, like a real fairy tale princess.

  Dinner had not yet been served, and a number of couples were dancing on the dancefloor.

  Ben took my hand and looked directly into my eyes.

  “Would you do me the honor of giving me this dance?” he asked.

  There was no way I could refuse.

  “Of course,” I replied.

  He led me out onto the dancefloor and our fingers intertwined and he brought them into position as the song started. We danced slowly, swaying in perfect time to the music. I was impressed to learn that Ben was a great dancer. He seemed to have an intuitive feel for the rhythm. But aside from the way he moved, I was aware of how safe and secure it felt to be in his arms. He was strong and powerful, yet his touch was gentle. I looked up at him and found him already staring down at me affectionately. He pulled me closer as we danced. Heat radiating between us in a way I had never expected just a brief time before.

  I intuitively knew what was coming next. There was no denying the gravity.

  The warmth of his hand eased up my back. Smoothly, he moved it to cradle my neck, bringing my face closer to his, and instinctively, he lowered his lips to mine. Passion rippled like lightning through my veins. The feeling of intensity that passed between us was almost indescribable.

  It had been quite a while since I had last kissed anyone. Maybe that was part of why his kiss felt so amazing, but only a small part of it. I knew the real reason was because every interaction over the last few weeks had been leading up to this moment . . . this glorious moment in which I was lost in the intensity of a connection that was sending wave after wave of liquid heat through my veins. Ben's lips on mine was what I had wanted so many times, had daydreamed about. But even in my most vivid fantasies, I hadn’t imagined the sensation I was experiencing. He kissed with a force that was gentle, yet powerful.

  Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity—a wonderful eternity—Ben eased his lips away from mine and gazed down at me.

  “I've been wanting to do that for a long time,” he said.

  I contemplated telling him that I too had been wanting it for quite some time. I decided not to, for the moment, at least.

  “I don’t know what took you so long,” I said with a smile as the song faded out.

  “Come, let's go sit down.”

  He took my hand and lead me off the dancefloor toward our table which offered a little more privacy. As we were walking off, a familiar face caught my attention– a face that sent instant negativity rippling through me: Delia Grant.

  She was dressed in a fitted silver gown and looked stunning. Jealousy flared up in me. I knew she and Ben had slept together on more than one occasion, and it was hard for me to put the idea out of my mind that part of him was still attracted to her. Seeing her dressed to the nines made it hard not to allow my insecurities to get the better of me.

  She was with a very handsome young man who I thought I had seen somewhere before. I tried to mentally place who he was and if he was part of the Sciotti family. I was sure that he was associated with Ben somehow, but couldn't quite recall how.

  Not wanting to spoil the evening by bringing any attention to her, I simply looked away and followed Ben off the dancefloor hoping he hadn't seen her. We took a seat at our table, and I glanced casually over to watch where she went. She and her date took a seat at a table some distance from ours, thankfully.

  After a few moments, our table mates returned and a waiter came along with a plate of starters while another followed with flutes of champagne. The starters were delici
ous, as was the champagne, and with the wonderful food and drink and the delectable eats and drinks in front of us, as well as the engaging and stimulating conversation from the other guests at our table, I soon forgot about the presence of Delia Grant.

  Ben was carrying on a conversation with one of the men at our table as I spoke to the sweet, older woman seated beside me. When she excused herself to speak to an acquaintance, I decided to take the opportunity to powder my nose and check my makeup in the ladies’ room.

  I leaned over to Ben as he was chatting to some CEO whose name I had forgotten.

  “Ben, I just need to go to the powder room for a minute. I'll be back shortly.”

  He nodded and winked, still engaged in his conversation with the CEO.

  I stood and made my way through the maze of tables to the passage that lead to the bathroom. Once inside, I marveled at how swanky and squeaky clean everything was. Even the restrooms in this place made you feel like royalty!

  Just as I finished touching up my lipstick, the door of the bathroom opened and in walked none other than Delia Grant.

  Immediately, a hot flush of discomfort heated up my skin. As much as I had hoped to make it through the evening without having any contact with her, there was no way of getting out of the ladies’ room without confronting her. All I could hope for was getting past without too many words being exchanged.

  “Well, look who it is... neighbor,” she said with a malicious smirk on her face. “What was your name again?”

  I considered ignoring her and just breezing past as though she didn’t exist, but that wasn’t my style. It also would likely have only made any tension between us escalate. “Bethany,” I replied uneasily. “It's uh, nice to see you umm . . . Delilah, was it?”

  Her smirk faded. “Delia,” she corrected me. “Nice gown,” she shot back. “It's a Bergdorf Goodman gown, isn't it?”

  I nodded. “Yes, it is. Your dress is lovely as well.”

  “I bet you can't tell me where it's from, though, can you? Or who the designer is?”

  The warmth of embarrassment washed through my cheeks and I tried to maintain my composure. I looked her gown up and down once more. “Can’t say that I can,” I responded, trying to remain civil.

  She sighed melodramatically and shook her head. “I'm not surprised. I bet you hadn't even heard of Bergdorf Goodman before a few days ago, let alone stepped inside the store, had you? If Ben hadn't sent you there then you probably would have cobbled together some piece of cheesy scrap with your grandmother's old sewing machine like the second-hand tramp that you are,” she spat. “That is how you got this gown, isn't it? Ben bought it for you? You don't belong in a gown like that and you certainly don't belong here. This event, this is for people like me – not people like you. People who belong here, people who were born with class and power, people who went to Ivy League schools... not working class schleps with nothing more than a shitty high school education who work in diners.”

  My jaw may as well have been hanging open with shock at this point. If I had thought she was malicious before, she had proven me right and then some. She had just taken her nastiness to another level completely.

  “You... you bitch!” I snapped, not knowing what else to say.

  She simply laughed loudly and humorlessly.

  “Is that all you've got? Why don't you just walk out of here now and go straight back to your shitty little diner. You're embarrassing yourself and everyone here. Like I said, you don't belong here... and it shows.”

  “Why don't you go fuck yourself, you spoiled, ignorant brat!” I spat. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

  She laughed even louder. “Is that what you think, Bethany? That I’m jealous of you?”

  “Yes. Ben chose me and you just don’t like to lose, do you?”

  “My my, that's cute,” she chuckled. “First thing you need to understand . . . he's just using you like he used me. And when he's bored of you, he'll move on to the next pretty young thing he sets his sights on. Secondly, if you think that his interest in you is anything beyond what he's going to get out of you after using your body and taking your diner – the real prize that he's wanted all along – then you're as stupid as you are low class.”

  I tried to hide my true reaction to her accusation. “Ben doesn't want my diner,” I insisted.

  She shook her head at me as though she couldn’t believe I was doubting her. “My boyfriend is an architect, dear,” she said. “And he's been working on the plans for the restaurant Ben is going to open – right where your shitty little diner is now. If you think I'm lying, I can call him over to show you the plans – the plans that Ben himself has already signed his name on. The evidence is in his car right outside the yacht club.”

  “Why on earth should I believe a word you say?” I spluttered, taken aback by what she had just told me.

  “It's the truth. Go ask Ben himself, right now, if you don't believe me. Go on! Do it!” she practically dared me.

  “I have no further desire to listen to you spew your poison, you snake,” I said. “It was not a pleasure seeing you again.”

  I shoved past her and stormed out, but I didn't go back to the table. Instead, I went outside where I could get some fresh air and gather my thoughts. I found myself wondering if what Delia had said could be true. Was Ben really planning to build a new restaurant where my diner sat?

  My heart was pounding, and my cheeks were hot with both anger and fear. I felt almost as if I had been betrayed. What if everything I had convinced myself to be true about Ben over the past few weeks was a lie? What if Delia had been telling the truth? What then?

  Well, then I would be back to square one. I'd be stuck right back where I was on the morning where the CM gangsters had burst in and demanded the money Sal “owed” them. And everything I had convinced myself was reality – the feelings I had for Ben, and the feelings he had for me, and living a life of comfort in his penthouse, being a part of his family – it was all a charade, carefully constructed by this gangster family to totally dupe me.

  Now it looked like maybe there was only one thing I could do, and that was to revert to the initial plan. I would have to sell the diner and leave Detroit forever – but I would have to do it in secret, without Ben knowing.

  I started to think about a plan...

  CHAPTER 18

  Ben

  I couldn't believe it. We had shared our first kiss, and man, I had to say it had been one of the best kisses of my life. I knew that there was a passionate fire that burned inside Bethany – hell, I had known it the first time I laid my eyes on her – but I hadn't known just how intensely that fire burned until now.

  The kiss had felt like it had taken hours – and seconds. It had felt so long and amazing, yet was over far, far too quickly. That didn't matter though; I was eager for more, a lot more, and couldn't wait to get away from this dinner table and these boring businessmen and get Bethany alone again.

  She headed off to the restroom while I was having a conversation with the CEO of a local factory, and it didn't seem like much of a big deal. When she came back, however, I could see right away that something wasn't right. She was looking almost shaken up or something. I excused myself from my current conversation and leaned over to her.

  “Are you alright, Bethany?” I asked.

  “I'm fine, nothing's wrong,” she muttered, although I could see that something definitely was wrong.

  Before we could continue our conversation, though, the MC of the evening started speaking, his voice coming loud and clear through the large speakers and preventing any further talking between Bethany and me.

  I listened with impatience to his speech, applauded when I needed to applaud, stood up when I needed to stand up – but all I could think about was Bethany. What was wrong with her? Was she feeling ill? Was she worried about something? Why had she clammed up like this? What was the problem?

  Then, out of the blue, my phone rang. Well, it started buzzing in my pocket
– I had it on silent for the proceedings. Annoyed, I picked it up and saw that it was Tony. He knew that I was at this ball and wouldn't be disturbing me if it wasn't something very important, so I figured that I had better take the call.

  I stood up and excused myself from the table and then hurried out of the hall and answered the phone.

  “Tony speak to me. This better as hell be important, to disturb me at a time like this!”

  “It's real important boss, trust me. The strip club is on fire!”

  Shock ripped through me.

  “What?! Say that again, because I'm not sure I heard you right.”

  “Controversy! The strip club you own! The freakin' place is burning down, it's on fire, I don't know how else to put it to make it any clearer! You gotta get here right now!”

  “Shit! I'll be right there. Shit!”

  “Hurry boss, hurry!”

  I ran back inside and went straight over to Bethany.

  “Bethany, there's a huge emergency. My strip club is burning down right now. I gotta go! I'll tell Tino to come pick you up when the dinner is over. You just give him a call when you wanna leave, alright?”

  “Oh my God, that's terrible!” she exclaimed, looking shocked. “Well go, go, hurry! I'll call Tino then when I want to go.”

  I said hasty goodbyes to the other guests around the table, and then raced out to my Merc. I jumped in, gunned the motor and the tore off, pushing the car to its limits in my haste to get to Controversy. I screamed around corners and blasted through red lights, and gunned it hard down the straights, hitting some highly illegal speeds as I did.

  Soon I could see the smoke billowing up into the night sky, and I knew that Tony had not been exaggerating at all. I ripped through the last few streets, and then when I first caught sight of my club, I saw a bunch of fire engines outside, trying to extinguish the blaze. Flames were billowing out of the upper floor of the club – right where my office was.

  “Oh shit,” I said as I pulled up. “Oh shit, oh shit!”