Playing Pretend, page 13
“Because you’re smart.” I drag her pillow beneath my head and relax while she pulls out a fresh set of clothes. “Do you have work responsibilities today?”
“Not really. My main focus is hiding from Julian.”
“I’m sure he already went home with his tail between his legs, otherwise he would’ve shown his face last night.” If he didn’t, I’ll ensure he does.
“Maybe.” She pauses. “What did you say to him, anyway?”
Shit. I forgot to tell her.
“What I said wasn’t as important as what he’s been doing.” I sit up, the sheet pooling at my hips. “He’s stalking you, Pip.”
Her eyes flare. “Excuse me?”
“I should’ve mentioned it sooner, but after the pool, you took off and—”
“Don’t go there.” She slaps her suitcase closed, a pile of clothes in her left hand. “Tell me why you think he’s stalking me.”
“Because he told me.”
“Outright?” She balks. “He literally said the words?”
“Pretty much. At least he didn’t deny it. He said you were cheating on me. That he’d seen you with another guy. But you already said you never told anyone about your most recent date.”
She stares blindly across the room, blinking at a random place on the wall.
“You have to tell your boss. Julian needs to lose his job.” I try to focus on her face. On those gorgeous eyes. But the way her nipples peak beneath my cotton shirt is taunting me, making my morning wood a fucking force to be reckoned with. “It might even be worth calling the cops.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll sort it out myself.”
“Since when is stalking not a big deal?”
“Since yesterday, when things came to a close.” She pads for the hall and out of view. “He won’t do it again.”
“How can you be sure?” I shove from the bed and stride after her. “Wasn’t your date last week?”
“It doesn’t matter. Julian has since been pulled into line.” She closes herself in the bathroom. “I’m not going to risk another embarrassing scene by inflaming the situation.”
Is she fucking serious? “Since when are you the type to turn a blind eye to female injustice?”
Her sigh is loud from the other side of the door. “Rome, I’m trying to pee while my stomach is unkindly reminding me how many cocktails I had yesterday. Is it too much to ask for a smidge of privacy?”
“So you care when I invade your privacy, but not when Julian does?”
“That’s not fair.” The toilet flushes. “Just because you were around for the blow-up at the bar doesn’t mean you’re a source of knowledge on my failed relationship.”
Okay, so now we’re arguing again. Fucking great.
I lean my forehead against the door, fighting the urge to release my frustration by banging my knuckles against the wood. “Then enlighten me. Explain why stalking isn’t an issue. Otherwise, I’ll tell Pete myself.”
The door flings open.
“Over my dead body.” She glowers at me, thrusting her hands on her hips. “If you say—”
“It could be,” I growl. “Over your dead body, that is. You’re surprised he’s stalking you, so what else is he capable of?”
Her eyes narrow to slits. “Drop it.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“It’s none of your business.”
Ouch. “If the safety of my best friend isn’t my business, then what is?”
She winces, her regret hitting me in the chest, which is a preference since it feels like she just kicked me in the balls.
I get that she’s embarrassed. That she doesn’t want to spark additional drama. But that prick needs to be punished for what he’s done.
Either the cops and Pete do it, or I’ll add it to my list.
“I’m not in danger.” She squeezes past me, making her way to the fridge alcove to snatch a bottle of water.
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.” She holds my gaze as she snaps the cap on the bottle. She’s confident. She knows something I don’t. Something she doesn’t want to share with me.
“We’ve got secrets now.” It’s not a question. Only a painful observation. After a lifetime reading her, I should’ve picked up the hint sooner. She’s withholding information. “I don’t get it. What have I done to earn a lack of faith?”
“It’s not a secret, Rome.” She takes a sip of water, replaces the cap, then throws the bottle to the bed. “I just…”
I let her stew, not filling the lengthening silence.
Two days ago, we were perfect. Attuned. In a state of disorganized harmony that I’d grown to depend on.
Now it seems to be slipping through my fingers. The space between friendship and something more is proving too much to overcome.
She stares at where the bottle lays atop the bedding, one hand playing with the hem of her sleep shirt. “He isn’t interested in getting back with me, okay? He wasn’t even interested in the relationship while he was in it. The complications he’s causing are over something else.”
“What else is there?” I demand. “Tell me.”
She keeps staring at the bed. “I don’t want to.”
I raise my chin at another direct hit.
I don’t get it. I don’t fucking understand. I thought we were solid. That we shared everything. Well, at least everything that didn’t pertain to the complicated feelings I have for her.
She turns to me, her face scrunching in dismay when our eyes meet.
I must look like a rejected puppy, from controlled and calculated to broken and battered all because she won’t open up.
“Rome, I…” Her chest rises and falls with a sigh. “I found out yesterday that Julian stopped having feelings for me a long time before the relationship ended. He was only using me.”
I scowl. “For what?”
She keeps her gaze on me, waiting, as if I should already know the answer.
“I’m sorry, Pip, but you’re going to have to clarify. I’m clueless here.”
She turns away. “He stayed with me to get to you.”
I flinch.
“He told me right to my face,” she murmurs. “He made it painfully clear I endured eight months of demoralizing sex and faked orgasms for a relationship that was never about me.”
“Then what the fuck did he want from me?”
“The Bellefont contract.”
“Fuck.” I clench my teeth through my disgust, my gut heavy with guilt. “I’m sorry. That’s—”
“Horrible.” She hugs her arms around her waist. “Yeah, I know. But it’s not your fault. I’m the idiot who had absolutely no clue.”
I want to go to her, to touch, to soothe, to fucking fix the mess I feel responsible for. Instead, I keep myself rooted in place, vowing not to make this worse by throwing my addiction to her proximity into the mix. “What can I do?”
She turns to me, her lips slowly curving in a half-hearted smile. “Maybe grant me a day to myself… No challenge… No fake boyfriend antics. Just relaxation. All on my own.”
I scoff. “You’re seriously using this as leverage to get out of your responsibilities?”
“You’re seriously going to deny me after making me divulge that humiliating information?”
Yes. I can’t afford to lose a day. Not when we’re further apart now than we’ve ever been. I’m running out of time.
“Come on, Rome.” She bats her Bambi lashes at me. “I know I’m meant to be proving I can handle whatever you throw at me, but this is my vacation, too. Can’t I have one day?”
I steel my expression, hiding the sharp stab of rejection. “And what will this Rome-free day consist of?”
She shrugs. “I’d like to go for a walk. Maybe schedule a massage. Even sitting at the beach and reading for a few hours would be nice.”
And she can’t do any of that with me?
“Is that okay?” She raises her brows in hope. “After all you’ve put me through, can’t I have one measly day to myself?”
After all I’ve put her through? Does she really look back on our time together as torture?
“You can have the daylight hours,” I concede. “But I’ll ensure you make up for lost time tonight.”
She stands taller. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, I’m not going to let you walk into a generous six-figure position without earning it.”
“In other words, tonight is going to be a nightmare?”
It’s going to be interesting, that’s for sure. “It will be a challenge, but nothing you can’t handle.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, the hem of my T-shirt riding up her flawless thighs. “I want to know specifics. How badly will I pay for the few hours of peace?”
I retreat, making my way toward the bathroom. I need space before my creative thoughts reach my dick. “I don’t know yet, but the downtime will give me a chance to get inventive.”
“If it involves more kissing or scandalous touching, I’m not going to agree. I’d prefer to endure another day with you instead.”
“Endure? Jesus.” I walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind me to grin at my reflection in the mirror. She’s going to cave. I can feel it. “Stab me through the heart, why don’t you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Fine.” I palm the vanity counter, my cock hard as ideas run rampant. “What if I promise there’s no kissing or scandalous touching?”
“So you’d be relying on dirty talk?” she asks through the door.
“I’m not giving away state secrets. You’ll have to wait and see.”
She growls, the sound increasing blood flow to my dick.
“Well?” I taunt. “What’s it going to be?”
CHAPTER 13
Piper
It was a mistake.
An hour without him was all it took to regret what I thought were exceptional negotiation skills. A ridiculously boring hour spent constantly thinking about him. About yesterday. About last night. And what could’ve happened if I’d said yes to everything he offered.
I leave the resort, walking miles down the beach until I find a cafe to thoroughly drown my hangover in coffee. But the overindulgence in caffeine doesn’t help. Two lattes and a piccolo ramp my heart rate until I feel like I’m back in bed, enjoying the alone time Rome mortifyingly caught me in the middle of.
Whatever you’re doing on the other side of this fortress is most definitely not sleep.
How the hell am I going to go back to normal after this?
I’ve grown accustomed to the way he looks at me. To his hand gently skimming my hip when we’re close. How he talks to me with a constant edge of hunger.
I spend a few hours on the beach, my toes in the fluctuating waves, my face soaking up the sun. I listen to an audiobook with my EarPods, not connecting with a single character in the entire nine chapters. There are only Rome’s words. His voice. His memory.
I’m happy to offer assistance.
I plant my ass on the sand a few feet from the water. My cell rings several minutes later.
My pulse falters at the possibility of it being my roomie. The possibility of a mere conversation with him sparks excitement. But when I drag the device from my skirt pocket to connect the call, I’m disappointed that it’s my brother’s name on the screen. “Morning, Rett.”
“Good morning, sis. I thought you were going to give me updates.”
I wince. “There’s nothing to update.”
“That’s not what I’ve been told.”
“What did Rome say?” I play it cool, knowing my brother likes to fish for information and isn’t averse to misleading me at times.
“That you’ve got a stalker. I spent forty-five minutes going over the ins and outs of my goddamn security system because he’s convinced you’re going to be abducted.”
“I’m not going to be abducted.”
“Tell that to your new boyfriend—”
“Fake boyfriend.”
“—I ended up giving him the password to our surveillance account because I got sick of his questions. Is it true about Julian?”
“I guess that depends on what you’ve heard,” I hedge.
“That he’s been following you. That he watched you go out on your most recent date.”
“It’s in the past. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Rome isn’t convinced.”
“He’s being overprotective.” I drag my bent legs toward my chest, resting my chin on my knees. “You know how he gets.”
“I do. And this time he seems more intense than normal.”
“I know. It isn’t necessary though.” Rome needs to scour his own security. Julian is more likely to be hiding in his bushes than mine. “Trust that I can handle it.”
“You sure? I’ve already got some seedy acquaintances on standby ready to instigate some underhanded brutality. All I need is for you to say the word.”
I chuckle, well aware he’s joking. “I’m absolutely positive.”
“Fine. I believe you… Where are you anyway? Rome said he had the day to himself.”
“I’m on the beach, relaxing without him.” I dig my feet beneath the sand, wiggling the grit between my toes.
“I thought your preference was to spend every waking moment with your bestie.”
“Not when he’s trying to scam me out of the career I deserve. His tactics are below the bar to say the least.”
“Sounds like you’re the one scamming the challenge if you’re hiding from him.”
I scoff. “We both know this so-called challenge is a major red flag where HR is concerned. It’s been nothing but innuendo and sexual harassment. You’re lucky I’ve got a good sense of humor and aren’t inclined to sue your ass.”
“And you’re lucky he’s pretending to be your boyfriend and not your boss. If I were the one testing how capable you are for this job it would be all business. I’d grill you on development contracts, zoning laws, and planning regulations. I’d expect you to know your shit on our current projects and come up with ideas for those in the future. Would you be ready for that? Would you prefer if I took over?”
I glower at the ocean.
He knows I’m not prepared for any of those things. How could I be with a week’s notice?
“Think yourself lucky,” he continues. “It sounds to me like Rome is more interested in getting you to loosen up. You’ve been high-strung for a while now.”
“High-strung?” I snip
“Retract the claws, sis. You know it’s true. He just wants you to have some fun.”
I squint harder at the horizon, hating that he’s right.
My relationship with Julian caused deeper fissures than I’d thought. I didn’t realize my issues were noticeable to those around me.
I turn my gaze to the beach as children run into the waves while their parents sunbathe. Nearby, teenage boys attempt to chat up three of their female counterparts. A man throws a ball to his dog. A toddler builds a sandcastle.
I want to be like them. Carefree. Happy. And not caught in a confusing web of sexuality that makes no sense at all.
Julian’s job as my boyfriend was to bolster my sexual confidence, not destroy it. And Rome is the last person who should be attempting to pick up the pieces.
Everything is backward. Nonsensical and stupid.
“You still there?” Rett asks.
“Yeah.” My attention catches on a sweat-slicked god jogging along the sand a few hundred yards away. He’s shirtless, his T-shirt tucked into his running shorts to dangle against his right thigh. I’d know those muscles anywhere. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll speak to you when I get home tomorrow.”
“But we—”
I disconnect the call, ignoring my brother’s protest, my focus not leaving Rome as he stares down the beach, entirely in the zone.
The teen girls pause their giggling to gawk at him. The sunbathing parents, too.
My pulse increases. My heart swells.
He glances toward me, his attention catching on mine.
“Hey,” he calls out, diverting his path in my direction.
I push to my feet, shoving my cell into my pocket before swiping at the sand on my ass. “Hey, yourself.” I pin my attention on his face, refusing to succumb to the temptation of his naked chest.
“I assume you’re taking advantage of your time without me.” He jogs in place, his muscles glistening in my periphery.
I should tell him about Rett. About how I’m annoyed at the information Rome shared with my brother. But we’ve argued enough over the past few days. “I’m living the dream.”
He grins. “For now. Make the most of it before tonight.”
“You’re trying to scare me now?” I raise a brow.
The curve of his lips increases. “Maybe a little.”
Well, it’s working. My stomach twists in knots.
I shrug. “As long as you remain professional and stick to your promises, I’m sure I have nothing to worry about.”
He stops jogging and pulls his shirt from his shorts to wipe the sweat from his face. “You don’t believe that.”
“I believe you’re an honorable man who won’t go back on his word.”
“That’s not the part I was talking about. You know you’ve got a lot to worry about even though I won’t break my promise.” He holds my gaze as he attempts to mop the sweat from his chest. “I bet you’re starting to panic.”
“Nope.” I shake my head, feigning confidence. “There’s nothing to panic about if you keep your grubby hands to yourself.”
“Wait and see.” He winks. “Before the night is through, you’ll be begging me to break my promise.”
I laugh. Short, sharp, and one hundred percent fake. “There’s no way in hell.”
He chuckles, that panty-melting grin working its magic over me.
“Enjoy your run, Rome.”
“Enjoy the panic, little Pip.” He takes off, continuing his jog along the beach, his tanned body drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity. Including me.
I won’t beg, though.
His words may make me blush, but it’s his hands and those lips that pull me under his spell. If I remain sober, there’s nothing he could do to make me crazy enough to beg for anything. Right?
