Liar Liar

by Donna Alam

  ‘Not from where I’m sitting. First, you get saddled with a business you never wanted or expected any part in. Then to get your hands on the reins, you ditch the image of the playboy son, an image you’d cultivated so very hard—’

  ‘I hardly promoted myself as a hedonist. I just lived the life I wanted.’

  ‘Those were some good times,’ he says, tipping his head back as though appealing to the midnight blue ceiling for a recreation of a time gone by. ‘And we cultivated hard, didn’t we?’

  ‘Partied hard.’ And Rhett was an unlikely companion, but one I’ll be forever grateful for finding.

  ‘Same thing,’ he replies with a sniff. ‘But then you go and spoil it all by saddling yourself with a business you don’t really need. The money would always have been yours.’

  ‘Precisely why I need to attend to it.’

  ‘You had no interest in the business and no interest in the woman you tied yourself to.’

  ‘A necessary evil,’ I interject, brushing the topic aside.

  ‘Those are her middle names, right?’ He sits straight, bulldozing on. ‘And next, you discover you might have a sister before finding out she’s probably some girl your dad has—’

  ‘Ta gueule,’ I reply in a thoroughly bored tone. Shut up. Delivered without a hint of malice and received by his mocking salute.

  ‘But then . . . instead of steering clear, you decide to fuck her. Then bring her here.’

  ‘The first was a mistake, yes. And the second . . . a case of mistaken identity. But I regret nothing.’

  ‘Je ne regrette rien?’

  ‘If you start singing, I will murder you and feed your corpse to the fish.’ I pick up my glass and bring it to my lips.

  ‘You don’t regret anything because you’re in the middle of winning her fucking back.’

  ‘You say that as though it were a bad thing.’

  ‘Isn’t it? You really don’t want to know who she is?’

  ‘I no longer care.’ And that’s the truth. But I will have her.

  ‘Lord deliver me from lovesick fools.’

  ‘You’ll manage,’ I murmur, turning my attention to my plate. ‘Besides, there won’t be much romance at the start.’ Battles, yes. Verbal combat. Stolen kisses and vicious skirmishes if last night was anything to go by.

  And I look forward to it all because as every seasoned campaigner knows, to the victor go the spoils.

  28

  Remy

  I need you to leave me alone.

  It isn’t the first time she’d said these words to me, but never were words uttered with such meaning. Not that I’m deterred, though for the last few days, I haven’t sought her out. I haven’t turned up in her apartment, and not out of fear that she’ll start throwing things again, and I haven’t used the concierge app. Yet. At least, not since I’d requested her as my permanent contact, not that she’s aware, though engaged the services of one of her colleagues for a few days. Following, no one else will see to my concierge needs; no one but her.

  But up until now, I’ve left her alone, as she asked. And quite frankly, it’s killing me. To know that she’s so close, yet out of reach is torturous. I can barely think, let alone run a business. Things can’t go on this way much longer. In fact, they won’t if things go to plan.

  I want you to leave me alone.

  And I want to take her words and twist them into something pretty.

  I never want to you to leave me alone.

  ‘Mademoiselle Ryan pour toi.’ My assistant’s voice drifts from the intercom, bringing my musings to an instant halt. My stomach twists, and my heart thunders.

  ‘Ask her to wait, please.’ My response is terse, not because I mean it to be but because I need her here with me. Need but cannot yet have.

  I switch the intercom to video mode. It’s a new system that was installed just last week, along with a new lock for my office door. Some mistakes you just don’t want to repeat. In the reception area, Rose frowns, hearing my response. Exactly what I was aiming for. She turns to the couch, she trips on the edge of the area rug, glaring back at it as though it had done so on purpose. She drops a multitude of wrapped packages and shopping bags to the cushions and, if I’m not wrong, suppresses a small growl before turning swiftly once again.

  ‘Excuse me, but do you know how long he’ll be?’ She smiles tightly, her hands balled into fists by her sides before she slides them behind her back.

  ‘Non.’ Paulette’s attention doesn’t deviate from the screen. She’s already expressed her displeasure, but as she was also my father’s assistant, I think she has seen much less worthy appointments.

  ‘It’s just, I have other appointments today.’ Paulette doesn’t answer. ‘Does he have someone in with him?’

  Fishing, ma Rose?

  ‘Monsieur Durrand is always busy,’ comes a very professional non-answer. ‘Very busy.’

  I find myself smiling as Rose makes her way back, dropping to the couch with a huff. I’m still smiling as I turn from the screen to open the concealed bar behind my desk to pour myself a drink. An odd sense of satisfaction settles around me, a buzz of anticipation tightening the muscles in my stomach. I often feel like this on the precipice of a new deal or the start of a new project. When I’m about to build something up. Or tear someone down. I take my drink to the windows to admire the view. My enjoyment isn’t derived from the ocean or the cloudless blue sky but rather from a moment. An extraordinary moment. One Rose cannot possibly anticipate.

  I finish my drink, and on my way back to my desk, I pick up, then examine a small box from the credenza I haven’t noticed before. I make a couple of slow laps of the room to finish my drink, of course, then place my glass back in the bar, close it, and take my seat behind my desk. Cuffs straightened, I pick up my pen and glance at the video intercom. Her chin resting on her fist, her thumb scrolls rapidly through her phone as her foot bounces in the air, taut like the string of a bow.

  Excellent.

  I press the buzzer.

  ‘You can go in now,’ Paulette murmurs, disabling the door’s automatic lock.

  It takes Rose a moment to work the dozen or so handles over both wrists, then she grasps the remainder of the packages and strides purposefully in the direction of the door. One sharp knock for courtesy and she barrels in; all guns blazing, is I believe the idiom.

  ‘Rose. What can I do for you?’

  I purposely don’t look up. Not even as the packages and bags hit my desk and overflow, though I do move a small box aside as it hits the document I’m purportedly examining.

  ‘I guess first you can tell me what all this is.’ In the periphery of my vision, she folds her arms across her magnificent chest. With any other woman, I might assume this was a calculated move. But not with Rose, confirmed as I look up and notice the angry finger tattoo tapping against her upper arms.

  ‘It looks like shopping. Business or pleasure?’

  ‘What?’ Her eyes flare. The mention of pleasure?

  Capping my pen, I sit back in my seat and raise my gaze. My God, she is beautiful. Is it because I haven’t seen her for days that makes her seem such much more so? And she’s wearing my favourite dress of hers; the linen one that makes her look like she’s stepped out of a Sophia Loren remake. Maybe Boy on a Dolphin. I know if she stands in front of the window, the thin linen will reveal her glorious shape. But I’m not in the mood for schoolboy thrills. There are bigger things at play.

  ‘Well, these are clearly shopping bags.’ I poke them with my pen. ‘Chanel, Dior, Gucci, and is that something from Piaget?’

  ‘Are you telling me you don’t know anything about these?’

  ‘I know they’re expensive?’ I offer, leaning back in my chair.

  ‘You’re fucking with me.’

  My cock flickers to life as her teeth graze her full bottom lip; the words enunciated angrily. Angrily or not, it still turns me on. God, I’ve missed you, ma Rose. ‘I’d like to.’

  ‘Stop it. You
stop that right now!’ Her eyes narrow and blaze gold. ‘Your sexy little half smile and Frenchy-French accent won’t get you anywhere with me today.’

  ‘How about tomorrow? Can you fit me in your schedule then? I’ll bring the accent. And the tongue.’

  ‘You—’

  ‘Fit me into your schedule, Rose. I’ll fuck you whenever. Wherever.’ My eyes drink her in, every inch of her. ‘However.’

  ‘Urgh!’

  Wide eyes and pink cheeks tell me she caught my underlying meaning perfectly.

  I aim to own her everywhere.

  For a moment, I think she might stamp her feet. Kick my desk? I love that she has such a temper. I look forward to reaping makeup benefits for many years to come. Because, yes, that’s where I am right now. This thing between us is going all the biting, scratching, fighting before making up again way.

  ‘You don’t get to say these things to me.’ This time, her eyes flare as I push from my desk. She looks up and up again as I straighten to my full height and begin to round the edge of it. ‘I told you to stay away from me.’

  ‘And I have. But you’re in my office. You sought me out.’

  ‘Because of these,’ she says, throwing out her hand as she steps backwards, creating distance between us. I don’t want her to go too far away, so I perch myself on the edge of my desk.

  ‘The shopping?’

  ‘The shopping you bought.’

  ‘Did I? How can you tell?’

  ‘Because they’re all in my size—’

  ‘I am well acquainted with the shape of you.’ My eyes wander and deliberately linger, a bloom of colour rising high on her cheeks in response. ‘But I’m sure there are other girls in Monaco with similar figures to you.’ Lies. All lies. There isn’t another in the world built for my hands. Of that, I’m sure.

  ‘And I guess you’d know,’ she retorts. ‘But the watch is the exact same Piaget as I was looking at online before . . . before . . .’

  ‘Before you told me to stay away?’

  Her hand slices through the air. ‘Stop. Just admit you bought these things for me.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I rub my jaw rather pensively because tactics without strategy are just another word for defeat. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t been shopping lately.’

  ‘The last time you showered me in gifts was because you’d lied to me then, too.’

  Denial appears on my tongue immediately, but I swallow it back. The situations aren’t the same, despite her insinuations. I’m not in the habit of buying gifts for people I lie to or manipulate. If I were, my business rivals would be decked out in diamonds and furs. I am, however, manipulating her. But it sounds much worse than it is.

  ‘Okay, so maybe you didn’t buy them personally, but you ordered them, just like before, only you used the concierge system.’ She leans forward, brandishing a forefinger I’d like to bite, her eyes narrowing to slits more. ‘I know you did.’

  ‘Remind me of the concierge motto again?’

  ‘Discretion is everything,’ she recites unenthusiastically, almost rolling her eyes.

  ‘So, how can you possibly know if the concierge department guarantees privacy?’ Her eyes are all pupil as I push up from the desk, but she doesn’t answer, pursing her lips instead. ‘Unless there’s something you’d like to tell me.’ Which, as I push my hand into my pockets and saunter past her, I know there is. I’m not quite sure if it’s endearing or maddening that she’d protect one of her colleagues because, yes, the shopping is mine, and her colleague, Charles, was charged with keeping my part of the deal secret. Which I knew he would be unable to. ‘Well?’ I ask, swinging around to face her.

  ‘I know these were to be delivered to me because I saw my name on the trolley.’

  ‘Maybe there’s more than one Rose Ryan in Monaco. Who knows?’ If there is, I’ll bet my fortune she won’t be as beautiful.

  ‘Goddammit, Remy!’ she suddenly yells, the words almost exploding from her mouth. ‘Why are you being such a pain? I told you to stay away from me—’

  ‘And I have done as you asked.’

  ‘You can’t buy me.’

  ‘I know. Even I don’t have enough money to cover your worth.’

  Brushing my words aside, she carries on. ‘You ordered all that stuff for me. You gave Charles carte blanche to buy anything he thought I’d like or want or need.’

  ‘Not the watch, or the underwear.’ Definitely not the underwear. ‘Or the shoes. Those I ordered myself. He just had to collect them.’

  ‘I knew it! I knew you were responsible,’ she yells, throwing up her arms as she appeals to the ceiling for deliverance. ‘Do you know what you’ve done?’

  Yes, I do. And I think it’s all going according to plan, though I reply instead, ‘Something tells me you’re about to enlighten me.’ She starts, suddenly realising I’ve stepped into her space and steps backwards, holding her hand up as though to ward me off.

  ‘You set this up. You purposely told Charles to buy stuff for me from you. And in doing so, you swore the most indiscreet member of the concierge team to secrecy, which is about as effective as using a colander to hold water.’

  ‘I’m not sure what you’re most annoyed about. That I bought you gifts or that Charles is the conduit.’

  ‘I’m not annoyed—I’m angry—apocalyptically angry! Still! Again. Because the man can’t keep a secret. By the end of today, the whole of Wolf Industries will know what has happened between us.’

  ‘You mean they’ll know I love you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They’ll know I’ve lost my mind over you.’ I almost chuckle as she realises I’ve manoeuvred her against my desk. ‘We’re almost where we started, Rose.’ She was like an angel the first time I set eyes on her, even in that shapeless coat in the harsh hospital lights, and she has only become more beautiful. I want to feel her blossom under me again, lush and ripe. Watch her attention turn inward, her eyes unfocussed as I drive her to the place where she grips my shoulders at the same time as she lets go.

  ‘But this time, it won’t end the same way.’ No, ma Rose. Not this time because . . .

  ‘No, this time, it ends in Charles losing his job.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I can’t condone indiscretion.’

  ‘That’s rich coming from you.’

  ‘Heavy is the head that wears the crown,’ I murmur sadly, dragging my fingertips from her knees to her hip, two pairs of eyes watching them traverse.

  ‘You can’t fire him. Not because of me.’

  ‘I think you’ll find I can. Misconduct is misconduct, after all.’

  ‘Don’t be a hypocrite.’ Her laughter is hard as she stills my hand.

  ‘We can’t help being the things we were born to me.’ Blood will out and all that.

  ‘Remy, don’t.’

  ‘But this is who I am. What I do. How can I expect to be different without you?’

  ‘Oh, so it’s emotional blackmail now?’

  ‘No. Not just emotional blackmail.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean?’ She looks wary. She should be.

  ‘You don’t want Charles to lose his job, but what I’m wondering is, what is it worth to you?’

  ‘What?’ Was it shock, horror, or perhaps a little excitement that crossed her face?

  ‘You heard me. What is my discretion worth to you, Rose?’

  ‘What do you want?’ she asks suspiciously, pressing her palm to my chest, stilling my descent.

  ‘I want you to understand how much I miss you.’ With her hand trapped between us, my lips coast the shell of her ear. ‘It takes all of my willpower not to kiss you.’

  ‘You can’t fire him,’ she asserts, turning her head. ‘Or if you do, you’ll have to fire me, too.’

  ‘I think HR will disagree.’ Especially when I tell them to.

  ‘Not when they find out I lied on my resumé.’

  I know, I almost answer, awaiting her confession, as something inside me cracks, co
ol and sweet like a watermelon. I don’t deserve her, I know. This woman who is good and kind and honest and true—everything I don’t deserve. I’m having her anyway. I just need to persuade her that she needs me, too.

  ‘I didn’t work in a restaurant in San Francisco. I worked at a strip club. I got this job under false pretences, so if you want to fire anyone, go ahead and fire me.’

  ‘How about I just kiss you instead?’

  I hadn’t meant to but find myself dragging her against my chest, banding my arms at her back as though she’d escape. She could try, I suppose.

  ‘I worked at a strip club. Are you listening to me?’ She shoves at my shoulders, and I pull back with a reluctance I feel in my bones.

  ‘I heard you, and I don’t care where you have worked or where you have come from, or even why you are here. You’re not going anywhere because you mean everything to me.’

  She shakes her head as though refusing to intuit my words. ‘I can’t trust what you say. Not when you’ve lied to me.’

  ‘So, we make a good pair. I’m a liar, and you’re a thief.’ Her shocked expression is almost comical though the fun quickly dissipates

  Never give anyone power over you. Don’t offer love. My father’s words rise as though from the grave. As though I’d ever listen to him.

  ‘You’re a thief because you’ve stolen my heart.’

  29

  Rose

  ‘Well, that’s not gonna work.’ I put my iPad down on the sofa without logging out of my banking app, then yank out my employment contract from under it. ‘Dammit. I need to learn to read the small print.’

  Small print like he loves you and wants you to stay.

  I swallow the thought, push it down and stamp on it, but it floats to the top anyway.

  Maybe it’s Monaco I shouldn’t want to leave because to do so would mean going back to clipping coupons and slapping away wandering hands. To cold winter winds and wearing outdoor clothes to bed just to keep warm.