Playing Pretend, page 3
“I still can’t believe it.” Cassidy shakes her head. “I want all the juicy details. You need to dump your bag and join me at the bar.”
I open my mouth to protest—
“That’s a great idea.” Rome pushes my suitcase into the suite. “I’m glad I arrived early.”
No. No, no, no.
We haven’t discussed the rules. We haven’t even laid the foundation for this fake relationship. We need to get our stories straight.
“Perfect.” Cassidy swoops in, hooking her arm around mine to drag me toward the elevators. “You little minx. How could you keep this from me?” She lowers her voice. “And how could you hide the fact that he’s more goddamn gorgeous in person than in the magazine articles? That man is built like a Greek god.”
I cringe, praying he didn’t overhear. “I think it’s less of a Greek god situation and more of a symptom of your obsession with the male form.”
“No, he’s definitely divine.” She unlinks our arms and presses the elevator button, the doors opening immediately. “I want all the juicy deets. Tell me everything.”
Rome is right behind us when we walk inside, the intimate space seeming all the more compact now that I’m smothered in lies.
“I need a drink first.”
Or a sedative.
I’m not picky.
Rome makes small talk as we descend. They discuss traffic and the unseasonably warm weather while I try to find my usually infallible professional demeanor.
I can handle this. I’m good under pressure.
I just don’t feel comfortable with lies.
“Most of our team are already at the bar.” Cassidy leads the way from the elevator and across the lobby, giving me a pointed look. “I’m not sure about the other office though.”
She’s talking about Julian. She hasn’t seen him yet.
Thank God for small favors.
We continue outside into the building sunset, the sky alive with pink and purple as tiny party lights twinkle from the architraves of the open bar area.
The place is busy. Small tables are filled with a Thursday night crowd. Other people stand on the lawn, drinks in hand as they take in the ocean view.
“We’re over here.” Cassidy points to the group standing near the side of the pool illuminated from underwater lights.
“I’ll be there in a minute.” I let her continue without me and grab Rome’s arm before he can follow her. “Let’s get a drink first.”
He glances down to where my fingers cling to his forearm, then raises his gaze to mine, cocky as ever. “Anything for you, my sweet.”
I roll my eyes and return my hand to my side. When I pivot toward the bar, my hope for the brief respite of isolation plummets at the sight of Pete passing a pink cocktail to his wife before grabbing one for himself.
“We need to get our story straight,” I mutter. “What did you say to my boss on the phone?”
“Not much.”
Pete strides our way, his eyes narrowing at the sight of us. Or more specifically, at the successful property developer by my side. “Piper,” he greets with extra enthusiasm. “And you must be Rome.”
“It’s good to put a face to the voice.” Rome thrusts out a hand and the men shake. “Thanks again for allowing my last-minute intrusion.”
“Don’t mention it.” Pete waves him away and turns to his wife. “I’d like you to meet my better half, Sue.”
I wipe my palms over my jeans feeling stale after being cooped up in the car, while the beautiful redhead eats up the sight of my companion. She stands tall in her stunning see-through beach dress, her bright pink bikini visible beneath.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Cavanaugh,” she practically croons before taking a sip of her cocktail.
Rome shoots me a glance. “Has my little Pip been talking to everyone about me?”
“I assume she’s referring to your business reputation.” I smile tightly through my need to glare, then switch my attention to the boss’s wife. “It’s so good to see you again, Sue.”
“You, too, honey. You need to get yourself a drink and join us by the pool.”
“I assure you, it’s my top priority. We’ll see you over there in a minute.” I drag Rome toward the bar, not stopping until I’m immersed in the crowd of people banked up, waiting to be served.
“Relax.” He nestles into my side, his palm sliding across my lower back. “You look like you’re in a hostage situation.”
I feel like it, too.
“Can you refrain from calling me your little Pip?” I stare straight ahead at the Hawaiian shirt of the man waiting in front of me, refusing to look at Rome’s smug face. “It’s not exactly professional, is it?”
“No problem.” He leans in, his mouth so close to my ear his breath tickles my neck. “Would you prefer if I stuck with my love?”
A shiver skitters over my skin.
“Piper,” I grate. “I just want you to call me Piper.”
His thumb rubs in lazy circles along my back, the movement small but the resulting sensation monumental. He’s exceptionally better at this than I am. So much so that my nerve endings tingle with annoyance.
He’s making me look like I’m a failure under pressure, which isn’t the case.
I’ve handled high-pressure real-estate negotiations worth millions.
I’ve worked with celebrities. Tycoons. International investors.
I’m an asset. Yet he’s making me seem like a liability.
“Why don’t I get the drinks while you make yourself at home with your colleagues?” His tone holds a hint of humor. “You can warn them not to discuss how much you talk about me.”
“Of course I talk about you.” I sigh and turn to face him. “You’ve been my best friend since birth. Apart from Rett, who else is there to chat about?”
“Are you sure there’s not more to it than that?” He waggles his brows.
“Oh, my God.” An incredulous laugh bursts free. “You’re delusional.”
He grins, flirty and fun, but it’s his eyes that slay me. The way he stares deep into the heart of me to tinker with my emotions. He’s putting way too much effort into this charade.
“I, umm…” My stomach tumbles, catching me off-guard. “Yes… It would be great if you could get the drinks.”
I need space.
Air.
Common sense.
“Are you okay?” His brow furrows.
“Yes… No.” I have no goddamn clue. My insides are a whirlpool. “I’m worried about getting caught in a lie.” I gently guide his arm off my waist and retreat. “You need to back off with the touching. Don’t draw so much attention. These people know I’m not…” I struggle to come up with a word to describe my limited relationship skills.
“Don’t tell me you’re succumbing to pressure already,” he taunts. I scowl, about to bare my teeth when he says, “You’re paranoid. Nobody is paying us attention.”
I disagree. It feels like we’re standing under a spotlight.
“What do you want to drink?”
“One of everything. Just line them up and let me drown.”
He grins. “Leave it with me. I’ll come find you in a minute.” He pivots to the person waiting in front of him at the bar.
I nod even though he’s no longer looking at me. I don’t know what else to do but stand here like an idiot.
We still haven’t outlined the fundamentals. I remain clueless as to what he’s said to my boss. And the list of rules I need to relay is growing. But this isn’t the time nor the place.
I inch out of the line and make my way to the pool.
Our West Hollywood office is on the left with our Newport Beach counterparts across the water on the right. I shouldn’t be thankful for the separation. I enjoy the company of a lot of them. But remaining far away from Julian, wherever the hell he might be, is necessary.
The last time we spoke wasn’t exactly a white flag of civility.
He’s still trying to figure out why we broke up, and didn’t appreciate the it’s me, not you speech. As far as he’s concerned, we could be a perfect couple. Both in real estate and in the bedroom.
I can only agree to half of that statement because even though our career goals aligned, the thing we lacked in excessive measure was physical chemistry.
At the end at least.
We started with a spark.
I enjoyed kissing him. His touch made me warm. But like every other connection I’ve had with a man, it fizzled when we reached the bedroom. As if passing the threshold sucked every ounce of enjoyment from my veins and replaced it with awkward discomfort. I couldn’t get out of my own head long enough to get in the mood. And the pinnacle of humiliation was my inability to come. Ever. Not once in our eight months together.
“Piper.” Cassidy beckons a waving hand for me to hurry up and enter the huddle of drinking staff members. “Come see Vanessa’s new listing.”
I smile at everyone in greeting. Vanessa, who holds out her phone with pride to show the mega mansion. Max, with his excessively bright Hawaiian shirt. Phillip, with a new blonde model stuck to his hip. Annabelle, who already glares at her husband as they have a tight-lipped conversation. The two office women, Sally and Teagan. Then Pete and Sue.
“I hear you’ve got a date.” Max waggles his brows. “Where is the lucky guy?”
“At the bar.”
Phillip grins. “I can’t wait to grill him on his new development. The Bellefont Residences complex is said to be worth $500 million. Do you think I could schmooze my way into being the selling agent? I’d make bank on the commission from all those luxury condos.”
Cassidy rolls her eyes. “You’re an idiot. Why would he give that prize to you when he’s sleeping with Piper?”
“We don’t mix business,” I murmur. Otherwise, I would’ve been rolling in that sort of money long ago instead of living at my brother’s house, struggling to raise enough cash to buy a place of my own. “We never have.”
“See?” Phillip taunts Cassidy. “I’d be perfect for the role.”
No, he wouldn’t. He’s the laziest realtor in our office. He only wants the check, not the work that goes with it. But thankfully, the conversation diverts back to Vanessa’s new listing and the potential sell price.
I pretend to be invested, offering tidbits of information even though my mind is elsewhere. I can’t keep my attention within the small circle of colleagues. I’m caught between glancing across the pool in search of Julian, and doing the same toward the bar, looking for Rome.
“We should be mingling with the Newport Beach team,” Pete states during a lull. “It’s rude to be separated like this.”
“We’re separated because they’re infuriating.” Vanessa scowls in their direction. “They make everything a competition.”
There are murmurs of agreement while my nervousness builds.
Rome is going to get grilled as soon as he steps within arm’s length.
“Piper, are you okay?” Cassidy frowns. “You seem…”
“I’m fine. Just feeling out of place.” I swirl a hand toward my teammates. “I haven’t had a chance to unpack or freshen up.”
“Why not go inside and do it now?” Max gives me a funny look, as if the suggestion is a no-brainer.
I nod, thankful for the excuse to escape, when a familiar presence encroaches close to my side, and an orange and red cocktail is raised in front of me.
Rome.
I stiffen as everyone in our small circle eyes him with interest—even the significant others who aren’t familiar with his godliness in the property scene.
“I thought you’d enjoy Sex on the Beach,” he says loud enough for all to hear.
My stomach bottoms.
I don’t bite. I don’t even flinch. I remain deadly quiet, hoping his blatant innuendo will be ignored as I claim the drink.
“I’m sure she will.” Cassidy bursts out laughing.
“Especially when you’re offering,” Sue adds.
My face turns to flame.
I grasp for the straw and suck, suck, suck, willing the alcohol to fast track into my bloodstream.
Cassidy takes liberties introducing Rome to the group, gushing over him like he’s a movie star while I attempt to marinate in cocktail goodness.
Rome takes the accolades in his stride, his responses to questions casual, his charm effortless as he wraps his possessive arm around my waist and takes a sip of scotch. The contact is entirely smooth. One hundred percent romantically believable on his behalf, while I remain stone still and deathly quiet.
“How long have you two been together?” Phillip glances between us. “It looks…new.”
Awkward is the word he was searching for.
Uncomfortable.
I face Rome, panicked at how to respond. Then even more panicked when I realize he might say something to complicate the situation.
“A month,” I blurt as he answers, “It feels like forever.”
Ohhs and ahhs erupt while I silently plead for him to rein in the act. To stop the touching. To quit the flawless romanticism. It’s too much.
“It’s still early days.” I hold his gaze. “Some of us haven’t transitioned from years of friendship as fast as others.” I drag my attention back to my colleagues. “It’s effortless for him because he’s so old.”
That’s all I’ve got, a stupid taunt at our measly six-year age gap. How pathetic.
“It’s effortless because I’ve spent a lifetime wanting you.” He kisses my temple. Soft. Sweet.
My throat tightens.
“I think you shocked her. She’s speechless.” Cassidy steps forward to place my cocktail straw in my mouth as if I’m a child needing aid to sip. “Drink, honey. I have a feeling Rome’s going to make this weekend a wild ride.”
I suck like a vacuum, finishing my cocktail in record speed as everyone chuckles at my expense.
I’m going to kill him. I’ll plaster a pillow over his face and hold tight until he stops squirming.
“On that note…” Pete checks his watch. “I think we should move inside for dinner. We’re all here, and the earlier we eat, the more time we get to come back out here and drink on the company dime afterward.”
No.
I have to return to our suite. I need to set goddamn boundaries.
Pete backtracks toward the resort with a grin. “And I don’t need to remind anyone that the last one inside usually has to sit next to the boss and his wife. So make it snappy.”
“But I have to change first,” I say as everyone follows him. “Can’t you wait until I get back?”
“Who cares what you’re wearing?” Phillip mutters as he passes.
“Don’t worry about it.” Cassidy smiles. “You look great.”
“Yeah.” Rome steps in front of me, his hand taking liberties as it slides around my waist. “You look great.”
It’s another taunt. A strategy.
The delicious drawl. The dreamy bedroom eyes. The gentle touch.
“You’re an ass,” I say quietly and step away, only to have him grab my wrist with a chuckle.
“Hold up.” He pulls me into him, playfully gentle yet sinfully commanding. “You’re more relaxed.” He steps into me, bringing us foot to foot, the lights from the pool dancing in his eyes.
“Relaxed?” I scoff. “What brought you to that wildly inaccurate assumption?”
He raises his scotch, drains the liquid, then grabs my cocktail glass and leans to place them on the table by the closest sun lounger. When he straightens, both his hands glide over my hips, his palms warm against my jeans. “You no longer flinch when I touch you.”
I don’t?
“It’s the alcohol.” I hold his gaze, my chin high. This is just another ploy to get me riled before we’re in a more structured environment for our meal. “Let me assure you, I still disapprove of all the touching. It’s overkill.”
“I disagree. I actually think it’s time to lay more groundwork to this charade.”
“Nope.” I shake my head. Fast. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. You’ve done more than enough groundwork for one night.”
His smile kicks at one side, the hint of his left dimple showing. “You’re already tipsy.”
It’s not a question so I don’t respond. He’s seen me drunk enough times to know the initial signs and that cocktail definitely came with a kick.
“That’s not very professional of you, Ms. Sheffield.”
“Your taunting is easier to withstand while intoxicated, Mr. Cavanaugh.”
“Is that so?” His palms slide farther around my hips, slowly creeping lower toward my backside.
I stare him down. My narrowed eyes to his cocky smirk. The warmth from the liquor works against me when paired with the sinful burn of his touch. I overheat, the pool of my belly volcanic.
“I’m immune to your proximity, too.” I lie.
“Impressive.” He cups my ass and roughly drags me closer
I gasp, my hands raising to press against his chest for stability.
“I love that sound,” he murmurs. “Scandalizing you does funny things to me.”
My heart bolts, the pained organ beating a frantic rhythm. “I’m not scandalized.” My breathy voice says otherwise. “I just didn’t expect you to manhandle me.”
“Are you sure?” he purrs.
I won’t react. I refuse.
“Then what would it take to scandalize you, little Pip?”
God, I hate that nickname in this setting. When he’s all confident and commanding while I feel like a daunted schoolgirl.
“Nothing.” I swallow. Lick my painfully dry lips.
He raises a brow. “Really?” He leans in, his mouth approaching mine.
He won’t kiss me. He can’t. That would cross a line. Fake relationship or not. This is a game of chicken.
“We’ve got an audience,” he whispers. “We need to give them a show.”
“No, thank you.”
“But we’re a couple.” His fingers dig deeper into the flesh of my ass.
I fight not to whimper. I shouldn’t be enjoying this. I shouldn’t like the way it feels.
“Rome.” His name catches in my throat. “Behave.”
“Of course, my love.” He punctuates the response with a kiss.
