by Linda Kage
“Traffic was a bitch,” he murmured stoically.
It took everything I had to keep my jaw from falling open. I was more surprised that he’d so quickly and seamlessly gone along with my ruse than he seemed to be about being shoved in a role-play without prior notice. But oh, thank you, God, he wasn’t going to oust me or ask me what the hell I was talking about.
I smiled wide, grateful he had gotten on board without question. In the smokiest voice I could manage, I channeled my inner Kaitlynn-around-Ezra persona and answered, “You’re forgiven.”
Stepping forward, I wrapped my fingers around his tie and tugged his face down to my level so I could kiss him full on the mouth.
Hey, he’d told me I could kiss him without his permission.
With no intention of doing anything more than pressing my lips against his for a few seconds to make it look as if we were together and finally, hopefully, chase Diego off for good, I was totally caught off guard when it grew and morphed into more.
He met my mouth as if fully expecting the kiss. Then he stepped in close until our chests brushed, and he slipped a hand up into my hair where he gripped the locks with a possessive fist. When his tongue swept in, I gasped against the surprise of it, but I didn’t push him away.
One, because I really, really wanted this to look authentic for Diego.
And two: Well, damn, the guy knew how to use his mouth, and I kind of got swept into the moment.
When he pulled back, slowly and almost regretfully, a bit of dizziness assailed me. I swayed toward him, blinking up into his eyes. His gaze was intent and all-seeing when he looked back, as if he owned everything he saw. Then his nostrils flared slightly, like a wild animal scenting its mate.
But a moment later, he glanced away, his gaze bored almost to the point of contemptuous as he took in Diego from head to toe.
“What’s this?” he asked.
The pompous way he said it seemed to imply, “Why is such trash breathing the same air as me?”
God, he excelled at playing a privileged, highbrow asshole. Then again, with Satan for a mother, it was probably ingrained into his genes.
“He’s no one, baby,” I answered, ducking my face into his chest and running my hand up his arm to hide the fact I was grinning like crazy.
But holy hell, this whole act was unfolding way more realistically than I thought it would.
“Then why is he standing there, looking at you? Does he need something?” Finally deigning to address Diego directly, my fake boyfriend made his voice impatient and dismissive as he asked, “Do you need something? Because we have plans here.”
“I…” Diego faltered, not coming up with anything to answer but a few indiscernible sounds.
I glanced over and almost fell out of character. Poor Diego looked like a kicked puppy. His crestfallen expression actually made me feel awful before I reminded myself he was a liar and a thief, an annoying braggart, and a shifty individual who treated me like a prize to be won instead of an actual, living human being he should get to know a bit before pursuing so hard.
Plus, he couldn’t take no for an answer; his ego needed to be cut down about ten sizes. This would actually be good for him.
So I rested my hand on my savior’s chest, right over his heart, letting Diego believe I did not belong with any other man but the one I was touching.
When he met my gaze, his eyes narrowed. “You could’ve just said you had some rich gringo already.”
“It shouldn’t matter,” I countered. “I told you no.”
That should’ve been enough. Why did he have to be more respectful of another man’s supposed property than he did a woman’s forceful rejection? There went another reason why I wasn’t interested in him.
He sniffed with disdain and spun away, calling me a puta as he smacked the half-dead daffodils against the side of Trudy’s Café and stalked off.
I had a feeling he wouldn’t try to pursue me again.
Thank God.
My partner in crime and I watched him go.
As soon as Diego disappeared around the corner, I stepped out of the man’s arms, and he released his hold on my hip, which I hadn’t realized he’d even been gripping until that moment.
Huh. Strange, that.
Then he watched me blow out a steadying breath and smooth my hair out of my face.
When I finally focused on him, he shook his head slowly. “So, I suppose you’re taking an intermission from thievery today to break hearts and crush souls instead.” Lips quirking with approval, he added, “You lead quite an interesting life, Gabriella.”
Damn, I liked how he said my name. That husky, low-pitched tone was like gravel laced with honey.
“Uh.” I blinked at him, not sure what to say except maybe, how the fuck do you make my lady parts quiver like molten lava in a volcano during its time of the month? It seemed fitting that I set him straight about the fact that I was not a thief or a soul-crusher. I mean, not really. Not intentionally, anyway. But for some reason, all I said was, “I guess.”
His smile stretched. Jesus, even his smile was dangerously addictive. And what was more intoxicating: he seemed to like me just the way I was: a little bit nasty, a little bit sweet, a whole lot of snarky.
Flushing hard as my insides warmed to a hazardous degree, I glanced away and slid my hands into the pockets of my apron, before realizing—hey! I was in my apron. At work.
I zipped my attention back to him. He wasn’t in a tux today, but a three-piece business suit. “How do you know where I work?”
He leaned in. “I’m the devil, remember? I know all.”
“Devil’s spawn,” I countered automatically.
He shrugged. “Whatever the relation, I’d say it’s suitably wicked enough to help a girl get rid of an unwanted admirer.” Amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes before he glanced curiously down the alley in the direction that Diego had gone.
“Oh, Diego wasn’t—” I cut myself off from denying Diego’s true interest in me, but what the hell else was there to call him but an unwanted admirer? So I blushed again, deeper this time, as he watched me closely.
Tucking a stray piece of hair behind one ear, I wrinkled my nose. “Yeah. About him. Um, thanks for helping me out and everything. And I’m, you know, sorry I used you. That guy. He just—he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I was getting desperate.”
He nodded. “I could tell.”
“Really?” I snorted. “Wow, that’s funny. You could discern all that from one fucking glance, while I’ve been trying to make it abundantly clear to close-minded, Neanderthal Diego for four weeks now that I’ll never go out with him. What’s up with that?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but I held up a hand. “Wait. I remember. The devil knows all, right?”
“Not always,” he murmured glancing toward the fallen, scattered daffodils lying on the ground. “I never would’ve guessed you weren’t a fan of flowers.”
“Oh, the flowers, I loved,” I countered before shrugging. “Just not when he picks pockets to buy them for me and lies about it, or he thinks I don’t know what I really want, or he treats me like a trophy to be won and not an actual, breathing person. Or he tells me he has one job when actually he has another. Or he has no respect for a woman’s rejection while readily backing off when he thinks she’s another man’s piece of meat.”
He blew out a low whistle. “That’s quite a list.”
I huffed. “Yeah, well, he’s quite a douche.”
When he slid his hands into his pockets, rocked back onto his heels, and chuckled, I squinted at him, trying to figure him out. The way he just casually stood there listening to me vent as if he had no other reason to be in this alleyway but to witness my Diego-ranting made me remember he probably shouldn’t be here in the first place.
I tipped my face to the side, confused. “So, why are you here again?”
One of his eyebrows perked up in amusement. He looked so very suave and debonair in his professional suit. It made me
wonder what he did for a living.
Then he answered, “As I told your friend, you and I have plans tonight.”
I frowned and shook my head. “No, we don’t.”
Instead of answering, he let his attention fall to my uniform. “Is this what you always wear to work?”
I glanced down at the plunging neckline of my tight bodice and the short, puffy skirt before casting him a scowl. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Not a damn thing,” he cooed, running his gaze down my bare legs to my white sneakers. “I very much approve.”
Rolling my eyes, I muttered, “Most men do.”
He took a step closer. “Except it’s missing one thing.”
“You mean, besides the other half of the outfit?” I guessed dryly.
“A name tag,” he supplied softly.
“Oh.” I pressed my hand to my chest where my name tag usually sat. “I actually do have one. I keep it in my purse, but it must’ve fallen out at home somewhere.”
He pulled something from his pocket and lifted it for me to see. “Or in the closet of the woman whose home you broke into.”
“Oh shit. Wow.” I reached for my name tag perched between his fingers and blew out a big breath of relief. “Thank goodness you found it and not—”
“Her?” he guessed on a wince, pulling the name tag right back out of my reach before I could retrieve it. “Except I didn’t find it. She did. So, now she knows your name and where you work.”
“Oh shit,” I repeated, with a lot more doom in my voice and considerably less relief. “Do you think she—”
“Fuck yes,” he growled. “In fact, she’s already making demands of you. We’re invited to dinner with her tonight, by the way.”
“Uh, okay,” I said slowly and shook my head. “As frightening as that sounds, I think I’m going to have to raincheck.”
“I don’t think you understand, Gabriella. People don’t raincheck Lana Judge.”
“Yeah, but—wait. Did you just say Lana Judge?”
Arching his eyebrows, the man in front of me squinted. “Are you saying you had no idea whose home you broke into?”
“Of course I didn’t know!” I cried. “I told you, I was just randomly walking down that hall. When I saw her cool-ass door, I paused to look at it closer, and that’s when she came outside. That is honestly all I knew. Are we talking about the same Lana Judge I heard about for the first time yesterday? At Rosewood?”
His brow furrowed. “What’s Rosewood?”
“It’s that flower shop.” Waving a dismissive hand, I remembered everything I’d learned and everyone I’d met. “The woman who owns it is sister to that guy, the one who’s the CEO at that place.”
“Yes.” With a slow nod, he said, “The brother of that guy who’s the CEO at that place. You cleared everything up nicely for me. Thanks for explaining.”
“Ugh.” I scowled at him. “You’re such a smart-ass. Give me a second while I try to remember names. He was really hot. Like hotter than any man should be. With dark hair.” Snapping my fingers again, I pointed at him. “And he has a thing for Kaitlynn.”
Finally, his eyes sparked with awareness. “Kaitlynn?”
“Yeah.” I waved a hand, moving past that. “She lives in my building. Sweetest girl ever. She—oh! If this Lana person is Kaitlynn’s stepmother, wouldn’t that make you Kaitlynn’s brother?”
“Stepbrother,” he clarified.
“What!” I smacked him in the arm. “Oh my God, holy shit. Why didn’t you tell me that from the beginning?”
He frowned. “How the hell was I supposed to know you were acquainted with my stepsister?”
“I live in the same building as her,” I cried incredulously.
He shrugged. “And I should assume you know the names of everyone who lives in your building when I don’t even know the name of anyone who lives in mine?”
“Why do I find that so believable?” When he opened his mouth to reply, I went on. “No wonder why you knew my name and where I lived that first night. Kaitlynn must’ve told you.”
“She did not, in fact. I saw you once when I was leaving her building. Your brother hollered your name, which was how I knew to call you Gabby.”
“Son of a bitch,” I murmured. “So why didn’t you at least tell me that?”
He smirked. “Because it amused me to keep you in the dark.”
“Wow.” Shaking my head, I sighed. “You really are a jerk. And here, I thought it might just be a front.”
He sighed sympathetically. “Sadly, no. It’s not.”
“So I really broke into Kaitlynn’s evil stepmother’s home? No freaking way.”
“Not your finest hour, certainly.”
“Well, that sucks.” I wondered if I should confess my B & E transgressions to Kaitlynn. She’d forgive me, no doubt, sweet thing like her. But I kind of didn’t want her knowing how not-saintly I was. Then again, I didn’t want to lie to her, either. She didn’t deserve that.
Well, hell. This was a conundrum.
When I turned to reenter the diner, my thoughts all awhirl, my alley companion caught my arm gently and lifted his eyebrows. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Shooting him a glare, I pulled my arm free, which he let me do more easily than I thought he would. “I’m going back to work,” I said. “I don’t get off the clock for another hour.”
“Fine,” he allowed with a single nod, as if he felt he actually had the right to tell me what I could and couldn’t do. “But then you’re coming to dinner with me. To Lana’s.”
“Like hell,” I started.
Kaitlynn hadn’t said a single good thing about her stepmother. And if Kaitlynn couldn’t even like her, then I certainly didn’t want anything to do with her. That was for damn sure.
But the man in front of me shook his head. “She said you were to be there or she was going to contact your boss—whoever that is at Trudy’s—and she was going to get you fired.”
“What?!” I exploded. “She can’t do that.”
He looked slightly regretful when he answered, “You’d be surprised the things she can do and has done. This wouldn’t even make the top hundred.”
“But I don’t want to eat with her.”
“And I don’t want to be genetically connected to her,” he bit out, his eyes narrowing, “but here we are.”
“But…” Why would that woman want to eat with me? None of this made sense. “It sounds too hinky. You must know she just wants something from us.”
“She definitely wants something from us,” he said dryly. “She doesn’t invite people to dine with her out of the goodness of her heart or because she enjoys their company. There is a selfish, evil reason behind everything she does, and we’re going over there tonight to find out what that reason is because it’s far safer to gather all the cards you can when going up against a woman such as Lana Judge than to remain ignorantly in the dark.”
My stomach sank as I wondered, “Oh God. Do you think she knows I stole those things?”
He lifted one eyebrow. “I guess we’ll know at eight. When she expects us for dinner.”
“Shit.” I closed my eyes, feeling my own doom close in around me.
I guess I was going back to the apartment with that pretty, sparkly entrance. I had no idea admiring one stupid door would land me in this kind of mess.
Damn door.
Chapter 13
Gabby
He remained at the café.
Sitting at the end of the counter in his suit and tie as he waited for me to finish my shift, he stuck out like a sore thumb among the crowd of blue-collar workers, kids fresh from school, and homeless junkies popping in for a cup of coffee after they found enough change on the sidewalk outside.
But he paid the others no attention, too busy on his phone, rescheduling an appointment with some guy he called Gutierrez.
“…Because something came up and I can’t make it tonight,” he bit out sternly. “Why do people usua
lly reschedule appointments with you?”
After waiting a beat for the answer, he rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s not the case with me. When’s the next time you’re available?” He obviously didn’t like the answer he received because he said, “No, that’s not acceptable. It’ll have to be sooner.” One eyebrow lifted. “Then clear more room and make time.”
I could tell Gutierrez on the other end of the line called him a sour name because he pulled out that condescending-yet-amused smirk he always flashed me whenever I was particularly nasty to him. “Be that as it may, I still need an audience with you sooner.”
A moment later, he must’ve gotten his way because he nodded. “Very well. That’ll do. I’ll see you then.” And he hung up without offering a farewell.
Unable to stay away, I wandered his way and topped off his coffee cup that was already half full. “You just make friends with everyone you cross, don’t you?”
Picking up the mug to take a sip, he met my gaze. “Of course. I have to be the biggest dick in any conversation. It’s an unexplainably persistent compulsion I can’t seem to shake.”
He was actually making fun of himself. For some reason, that charmed me. I could never stand people who took themselves too seriously.
Nodding, I gifted him with a genuine smile. “Well, you fill the role excellently.”
He shrugged, unoffended. “People often mistake kindness and compassion for weakness. I don’t want there to be any confusion with me.”
I lifted my coffee pot and saluted him. “Then I’m here to assure you, you leave no room for doubt.”
His gaze glittered with a compelling heat as he focused on me. I wasn’t sure if he liked how I’d just inadvertently called him strong—granted, a complete asshole, but a strong one—or if it was something else about me that seemed to appeal to him, but it made the juices in the pit of my stomach bubble with jittery excitement.
Turning away to mask the stirring sensation, I checked on a pair of customers at a booth nearby. But all the while, I could feel his eyes on me. And so I was drawn back to him within minutes, unable to stay away.
“You know,” I murmured, tapping my nails on the countertop next to his cup, mere inches from where his own hand sat as he updated his calendar on his phone. He wore one of those smart watches that did just about everything but wipe your ass for you. I’d always found watches on men super attractive. No idea why. But when things in me heated up another ten degrees, I jerked my attention from his wrist and cleared my throat.
