by Piper Lawson
I half expect her to retort, but she’s quiet as my brother shoots a look of surprise between us. He's gone a moment later, and Daisy's hands find my shoulders again.
Somehow she's closer now, and I'm wondering if she did it herself or whether my hand on her hip dragged her against me.
When she speaks, her lips brush my cheek and send heat down my spine. “Was that retribution for what I said earlier about the bath bomb?”
“No. I’m collecting on that next.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. Her hands dig into my neck, the muscles that got tight when I wasn't paying attention.
“We agreed to make this look as real as possible,” I remind her. “And any woman I dated wouldn’t mock me in public the way you did without retribution.”
Her dark brows rise halfway to her hairline. “Don’t tell me your fragile ego can’t take it,” she taunts.
“I can take everything you have to give,” I promise. “But that doesn’t mean there wouldn’t be retribution if you were my girl.”
The lights in the club are dim, but I swear her eyes flash with heat. “If we were dating for real, I’d remind you I don’t belong to anyone but myself.”
I stroke my thumb along the line of her jaw. “And I’d make you wish you were wrong.”
If I thought Daisy would come back at me with fire, it’s my turn to be caught off guard.
Her lashes lower, and the next second, she’s studying my mouth as if she can’t decide where to tape it shut…
Or maybe ask me to put it on her.
This was about putting on a show for our friends and maybe proving a point too. But the point gets lost when I make good on my threat, burying my fingers in her hair and dragging her lips up to mine.
She's warm and soft and unexpectedly delicious. The scent of jasmine blurs with the flavor of her drink on her lips.
Shock has her opening under me, and my tongue takes advantage with zero hesitation. I breathe her in, devouring her with my senses.
It's not even her yielding that surprises me most. It's the little sound that escapes her throat, the one that vibrates against my eager tongue, through my chest, down my spine.
The club falls away, along with my disdain for it.
What matters is her, warm and fiery under my hands. The arousal scorching through me.
Acting as if I want this woman is the easiest thing I've done all week. All month.
Because the pull between us is real.
I find her hip with my other hand, sliding down to palm the perfect curve of her ass.
She stiffens, and I wonder if I’ve crossed a line.
But the next moment, she crushes her breasts against my chest. Her cool hand slips under my collar, her fingers digging into the muscles of my neck as she slants her lips against mine at a new angle, giving me all the access I’m demanding and then some.
The heat between us dials up another ten notches until I combust.
I want to slide my hand under the hem of that dress, to find out whether she's wearing the black lace panties I haven’t stopped picturing since yesterday.
Daisy’s my best friend.
And all I can wonder is whether she’d have any breath left for smart retorts if she felt exactly how hard she’s making me.
The song changes, the beat slowing from something frenetic to a needy throb, and it reminds me we’re in public.
Which is the whole point.
I’m not used to having to wrestle with my control, but I’m in a battle now.
I force myself to pull back, still breathing hard.
She swipes at her lower lip, the expression on her face so much like arousal, and I want to memorize it.
This isn't real. I remind myself of that as the taste of her lingers on my tongue.
Her gaze tears from mine toward the booth across the room. “Here’s hoping that worked."
I nod, adjusting the collar of my shirt where her hands messed it up. "Yeah."
At least one of us was convinced.
8
Pulling off a good impression doesn’t come down to the environment, but it doesn’t hurt. The People interview is taking place at a fancy private room at one of Vane's hotels.
Aiden and his bride are sitting on a love seat, her knee deliberately crossed toward him. They’re dressed beautifully, him in a suit and her in a blue Givenchy dress. The couple is doing well on the questions I shared with them in advance.
They met through mutual friends.
She plans to move into his home in Manhattan after the wedding.
Finally, the interviewer asks about how Camila will spend her time after they’re married.
“She’ll be working at our company.”
Camila shifts forward. “But my passions will stay mine. I run a foundation, and that won’t change.”
I rise and cross from my seat discreetly a few feet away, where I’ve been keeping one ear on the interview while I respond to a few other client emails.
Aiden turns toward her, frowning. “We discussed this and we decided you'd move back to a board seat.”
She smiles. “We discussed it, and you decided.”
"Mr. Vane," the interviewer says, breaking into the tense silence, "there have been fingers pointed about your involvement in the acquisition of these new resorts. That your dealings with the company you bought them from weren't aboveboard."
I clear my throat, stepping between them and the interviewer. “Aiden has answered those baseless rumors already to the satisfaction of the public and the New York prosecutor's office. No charges were laid because he did nothing wrong. I think we’re done for today.”
“But I have another few questions—”
“If none focus on Aiden and Camila's wedding, we'll have to table them.”
I walk her to the door, promising she can follow up. After I watch her head down the hall, I spin on my heel and tug the heavy oak door closed after me, taking in my clients.
“The fuck was that?” Aiden states, rising.
“She can't prevent them from asking,” Camila points out. "How did you even know?"
I square my shoulders. “You didn't tell me, but it's my job to know. So I looked into it."
“But you assume I did something wrong." His steely gaze hardens on mine.
"I assume things are more complicated than they appear and I like to give my clients the benefit of the doubt. But when they’re not upfront with me, yes, I’ll do my best to prepare however I can."
Aiden stalks past me and out the door.
When he’s gone, Camila says, “I’m sorry. You did well. And you’re right about one thing. None of us are perfect.” Her smile is kind. “I know we’re taking up a lot of your time, and I know you’re well compensated for it. Richard wouldn’t have it any other way. But I appreciate what you’re giving up for this.”
“It’s no problem.”
“Come on.” Her knowing look has me relaxing a few degrees. “Let me guess. You’ve shifted other clients to your team. Rearranged everything. I know because Richard expects it of everyone.”
“It’s a big opportunity for us. Small sacrifices in the short run for something bigger than myself.”
Her sigh is loud and surprisingly honest. “I understand it better than you imagine.”
When she leaves, I cross to the floor-to-ceiling windows and press a hand against my eyes.
My email is exploding with actual clients, ideas from Kendall and Rena and my other employees. When I check my calendar, I notice I forgot some files at home for an afternoon meeting.
My brain and my calendar are a mess thanks to the Vane wedding. Now, I need to add to my schedule for this afternoon running interference to find out what really happened.
This will pay off for my company, I remind myself as I head back to my apartment, which I never do in the middle of the day. And this month will be worth it if I can pay Lily's tuition.
We all have our strengths, and leaning into them is the best thing we c
an do. Lil’s the smartest kid I know, and nothing interferes with her schoolwork.
I resist the temptation to grab another coffee on the way home. Last night, I struggled to get to sleep, and it wasn’t Aiden and Camila’s fault—at least not directly. Yes, I did some more digging based on what Ben told me, but that was when I already couldn’t sleep.
When I finally got to sleep, I was tormented by a dream.
Ben and I are sitting in a parked car in the dark.
My heart pounding through my back against the seat.
He leans over the console, catching my hair where it's somehow gotten stuck in the door.
Instead of pulling back, he stays close, our faces inches apart. The tension rises from nowhere, thick and undeniable and hot.
Then he kisses me.
He tastes like desperation and pent-up need.
I want all of it, all of him. His fierceness sets me on fire and I kiss him back, our lips and tongues clashing like we’re at war.
Ben drags me across the car and into his lap.
His hands are on my legs, my ass. He reaches for my shirt, and we strip it off. I want his hands on me, and when he spans my ribs, I moan into his mouth and grind against him.
I work on the zipper of his pants.
I need more. I need everything.
His eyes are dilated orbs, reflecting back every bit of desire I’m feeling.
“You sure?” he asks roughly.
I nod.
I woke with the sheets tangled around my legs and the digital clock reading an hour before my alarm was set to go off. After showering off the sweat, I headed to work.
Now, hours later, I let myself in the front door of my apartment, making a beeline for my desk to grab the files sitting on top.
The sound of laughter down the hall has me frowning, because my sister has class now.
I tuck the files under my arm and pad toward Lil’s nearly closed door. I nudge the door open.
What I find has my stomach lurching.
My little sister is in bed with a guy.
“Oh, crap,” she mutters when she sees me, her eyes going round.
The guy looks over his shoulder at me, tossing his hair out of his face. When he takes in the expression I’m wearing, he shifts off my sister. “I’m out.”
“Wait,” Lily calls as he stumbles out of bed, pulling his jeans over the boxer shorts he has on.
I step back to allow him—maybe speed him—on his way to the door past me before I round on my sister.
"I barely know him,” she says, as if that makes it better.
Thoughts and feelings collide in my stomach—surprise, frustration.
“I get that you missed a deadline to keep your scholarship because you were focused on classes. But don’t you have class now? Please tell me you’re not skipping for some guy.”
She shifts out of bed, dragging a sweater over her bra. "Not everyone goes through life like you do.”
"What does that mean?"
She straightens, yanking her hair up in a ponytail. "Like you’re so focused on fixing everyone else, you ignore what’s going on for you.”
My chest tightens. "I just want you to achieve the things you want, that’s all. School isn’t the only way to be successful, but it can help. Especially with grades like yours.”
Lily makes a face. “My prof never notices me in that class anyway, even though it’s thirty people I don’t think he knows my name. If by some miracle he asked me where I was today, I’d tell him I was sick.”
“You’d lie.”
She shrugs. “He acts like he doesn’t want to be teaching that class, so why not? Don’t tell me you’ve never lied to someone you’ll never see again.”
My stomach knots with guilt, and she eyes me suspiciously. “You've been weird all week. Did something happen when you went out last night?”
I find the bracelet on my wrist.
Ben caught me off guard. Not by showing up looking outrageously sexy, or even by getting me info on Aiden Vane, but what he did for his brother.
I could steel myself against confident Ben. The vulnerable Ben I had no defense for, especially when he tried to cover his tracks with sexy teasing that felt oh so real.
The second he kissed me, every argument evaporated like water burning off as steam. I should’ve been thinking about how we’re friends, and this is fake, and whether Tris and the others could see us from that angle.
Instead, I was thinking his hair is the perfect length for tugging on when my fingers found their way there.
We were opposing forces dragging over one another, and I wanted more. His hands were possessive, his tongue wickedly teasing, his woodsy scent heady enough to make me drunk in a way cocktails never could.
I kissed him back as if I wanted him.
Because I did.
Fuck, I did.
I blink, realizing Lily’s still waiting for a response. “Nothing major.”
All day long I’ve been remembering the way it felt to kiss Ben, how much I wanted to go further.
"I would've ripped the dress off you—slowly—and fucked you against that mirror until you didn’t care.”
His pointed addition of my preferred speed did nothing to dull my reaction to his words.
I can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like if he did, if he backed me into the wall and claimed me with his body, the way it sometimes feels as if he does with his soul, his caring, his sheer intensity.
"But you wish something did happen,” she says as I turn and start for the hall.
I pause, a hand on the doorframe. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re in love with Ben. And even if he doesn’t love you back, you can’t walk away.”
The files slip from my fingers, papers escaping across the floor before I realize I’ve dropped them.
I bend to pick them up, to tuck them back under my arm before looking straight in those eyes that are so much like mine. “I’ll see you later.”
9
The hotel attendant enters my room with a wheeled cart. “Sir, where can I set this up for you?”
I rub a hand through my hair, nodding toward the TV. “The living room.”
It's been two long-ass days at an investing conference in London, catching up with colleagues. Congratulations, some back door meetings, even an old business school friend who moved from New York to London trying to convince me to move to his firm.
I told him I’d keep it in mind. In the unlikely event Xavier doesn’t back me to rise up the ranks, it’s good to have an exit strategy.
Usually, I thrive on that stuff, but while I was in a meeting, a notification went off on my phone of a big withdrawal from my mom's account.
I stepped out to call my mom at her treatment facility.
"Why did you take money out?"
"Your father called. His investments weren't doing well. Mine were."
I clenched my jaw. "No more, Mom. He's a user. He tells people one thing, then turns around and does something else."
“I love him,” she said simply.
“And that’s worth all the shit he’s put you through?”
She didn’t answer, and I didn’t expect her to.
Tonight, a bunch of guys are going over to one colleague's house, where he’s introducing them to his son who's starting Oxford next year. Even if I didn't already have plans, I didn't feel like spending the evening drinking scotch and bragging about accomplishments.
My second offer, from a female colleague I've hooked up with before, should've been more tempting.
I told her I had a commitment. She pressed a key into my hand before I could refuse and said I could come by after.
The key is still sitting on the coffee table when the hotel attendant departs. I turn on the gaming system, grabbing the headphones I brought from home. There's no one else in the virtual room, and I check my watch.
Since I sent Daisy a picture of Jet in an old-fashioned red phone booth this morning, I
haven’t gotten a response.
She’ll be here.
It’s become our routine. Every week, no matter what. Through graduation, first jobs, late nights, even travel. Occasionally we’d reschedule in advance if we knew there was something unavoidable. But never cancel.
The first time we played together, we were both stressed with exams, which in retrospect seems trivial.
“Tell me something good,” she said to me when I finished capping a list of complaints about school and life.
I glanced over, my shoulder brushing hers from where we sat side by side. “Something good.”
Her mouth twitched at the corner. “Yeah. Something good.”
Now, it’s our way of connecting, of reassuring one another we’re still here, no matter how high or low life gets. We are.
I send off a text.
Ben: ???
Daisy calls me a minute later. “Hey. I'm still at the office."
My head falls back.
I’m so damned out of it, I wasn’t thinking about the time difference.
“I'm in London for a conference. Didn’t you get my picture of Jet?”
“In the phone booth. Right." Her voice is distracted, and I wish I could see her face. "By the time I get home, it'll be late. Two or three, your time.”
I pick up the key card, turning it in my hands. “What's going on with you?"
"Well. I walked in on Lil with a guy yesterday. I know she’s an adult and she can do what she wants. But it felt like she was trying to be something she wasn’t, like…”
“Like Vi.”
“Yeah. I overreacted."
Despite the mention of her twin, Daisy’s voice, her presence, her existence halfway around the world at the exact same time has the knot in my shoulders loosening.
“Tell me something good,” I say.
Silence comes down the line for a minute. "Marc texted. Does that count?”
Definitely not. A stone settles in my stomach.
“Wall Street.” I picture her spending time with him, laughing with him. Letting him kiss her the way I did the other night. “It’s not a good idea to see other people while we're dating.”
