Real Liars

by S. M. West

  I’m not surprised Drew has crossed paths with Rothwell. When living in Toronto, my brother practiced law for the Ministry of the Attorney General and knew many wealthy and powerful people.

  “A guy like me?” His voice is a deep rumble and his eyes twinkle roguishly. “What exactly do you mean, Paige?”

  He lingers on my name as if I’m a wicked proposition and I’m intrigued. He’s certainly holding my attention even if his ultra-confidence irritates me. He’s unlike the men I am used to in many ways.

  While the men I’ve dated are rough around the edges, most are a cliché, and even if they come off cocky, it’s usually false bravado covering for something they feel they are lacking. Now that I think about it, most of them were one-dimensional and for the most part, predictable. What you see is what you get. Simple.

  “I didn’t mean anything.” I bite my bottom lip to stop from saying more.

  One dark brow quirks, and his eyes drop to my mouth. Super intense, hot even, and heat floods my core. “Didn’t Drew tell you?”

  “I wouldn’t be asking if he did.”

  “True.” He chuckles and shifts ever so slightly in his seat, adjusting the lapels of his suit. “Drew helped me out with a client in New York. He took the case and, more importantly, won.”

  “Okay. Drew’s an awesome lawyer, but you would have paid him for his expertise and counsel, right?” He nods, prompting me to go on. “So why do you still owe him?”

  “That’s between Drew and me.” His comment is meant to be vague and mysterious and I huff, now unamused.

  He’s toying with me and while that might not be his intention, I don’t particularly care for it. “Mr. Rothwell, will you help me or not?”

  “Firstly, it’s Zach. And secondly, I can’t help if I don’t understand the circumstances and what the problem is.”

  He steeples his fingertips in front of him, elbows on the edge of the desk, and the ends of his suit sleeves slide back to reveal a Rolex Submariner around his left wrist.

  This guy is the real deal. The watch costs thousands of dollars and here I am proud of my one and only pair of Louboutins. Shaking off the bizarreness of this meeting—I don’t belong in this world nor do I want any part of it, yet I want to know how he can help me—I tell him everything about Joel Hummel and end with my conversation with the housing agency.

  “Well, it does sound like you need help. But I should tell you that I’m not a lawyer.”

  “Yes, Drew did mention that, but he said once I explained, you’d know what to do.”

  “I have a stable of top-notch lawyers, experts in residential law in every province in Canada and a number of states. I’ll get one of them on this right away.”

  “You will?” My excitement is evident, and his lips spread into a confident smile and he nods. “If it’s easier, you can give them my name and number and they can contact me directly. You must be very busy and I don’t want to waste your time with this.”

  “Give me your number.” He hands me his mobile and at first I falter, questioning that he’s going to personally take care of this. “I’ll pass on your details.”

  “Oh.” I drop my chin to my chest, hiding my embarrassment at thinking he’d have the time to deal with this, or that he’d even care to. I’m a stranger. I quickly add my name and number to his contacts.

  “Thank you very much, Mr. Rothwell.” I stand and shake his hand. It’s warm, strong, and firm.

  “Zach—and no thanks are necessary. I haven’t done anything yet.”

  I laugh and he joins me but there’s now a glint in his eyes that takes away from his mirth. His gaze is laser-focused, staring at me. The air around us shifts. Thickens.

  “Well, I’ll let myself out. Goodbye, Mr., um…Zach.”

  I turn on my heel, heading for the door, hyperaware of his eyes on my backside and grateful to my mother for always telling us to dress the part. If this were any other day, I’d be wearing jeans, leggings, or a casual summer dress, but I decided on my form-fitting cream dress with scooped neckline and capped sleeves. Simple and classy.

  “Paige,” he says as I go for the door handle.

  I glance over my shoulder and Zach is standing only feet from me. His eyes skate up from my ass to mine wearing a wolfish expression. He doesn’t even try to hide that he was checking me out.

  “There’s one more thing. I have a proposition for you.” His tone is commanding with something sharp edging each word.

  “Pardon?”

  “You see, my lawyers can either do the bare minimum—send out a templated letter and call it a day or use all the heavy artillery at their disposal. Your landlord won’t know what hit him. Which would you prefer?”

  The question is straightforward but pointless. I mean what kind of question is that? There really isn’t a choice—I want what any sane woman would want when being threatened. Yet his pointed demeanor has me standing stock still, studying him as my breath stops, trapped in my lungs.

  “The big guns.” Air rushes past my lips with my response.

  I’m so wrong.

  There’s nothing boring or simple about this man.

  During this brief encounter, I’ve reevaluated the quality of the men I’ve dated, realized just how much his world and mine don’t even come close, and now he has my heart thundering as if I’ve been dropped into the middle of a horror movie. Who is this man? I can’t fight the feeling he’s about to shake things up further and I don’t know if I should be excited or scared.

  “Well, that depends on the instructions I give my lawyer. And what exactly I say depends on you.”

  “How so?” I cock my head to the side.

  My gaze is drawn to the light dusting of dark stubble framing his jawline. It is a strong, pleasing-to-the-eye jaw. In fact, all his features are strong and prominent.

  “We go after Mr. Hummel like the hounds of hell and in exchange, I get something from you.”

  “Go on.” My body tenses and stomach swirls and something akin to electricity zips through my veins.

  “Be my date Friday night.”

  “Your date?” For a split second, I’m flattered he’s asking me out when it hits me. He hasn’t asked me anything. It’s more a statement and I don’t get it. This guy can’t possibly have trouble finding a woman.

  “Okay, maybe date isn’t the right word.” He takes a step closer and his expensive cologne wraps warmly around me. “It’s a business proposition. We’re exchanging services.”

  “And why would I agree to this?”

  He owes Drew. As far as I see it, I get what I want no matter what. And whether I agree to his proposition, as he put it, or not, I’ve decided to break my rental agreement and get out of my current predicament. I have options, although having his lawyers take care of it would be far easier.

  “The caliber of lawyers I have at my disposal are hard to come by without a seriously hefty price tag. You might be considering moving, but what if I could make it so you don’t have to move, and Mr. Hummel never bothers you again?”

  Now he has my attention.

  One date with this man isn’t a hardship. I’ll get a fancy meal out of it, if nothing else. But what intrigues me more is the idea of Joel not being able to do this to another woman. I want him to get what he deserves for scaring women in their homes.

  Mr. Rothwell promises the full extent of the law, something I’m not able to cover on my own. He’s right, I can’t afford his legal team.

  “Okay, so one date—that’s all you want in exchange? Nothing more?”

  It’s too good to be true. What’s driving him?

  “Well, it isn’t one date.”

  Of course it isn’t.

  It’s beginning to feel a little too much like I’m being propositioned for something I’m not willing to give. I hope Drew doesn’t care to work with this guy ever again because this meeting won’t end well if this conversation is going where I think it is.

  “The date would only be for show and nothing mo
re,” he is quick to say. “But I’d need more than one date and it might go on past the resolution of your landlord problems.”

  “What exactly are you asking?” Yeah, there’s definitely nothing boring or simple about this man.

  “Strictly a business arrangement. People would have to believe we’re a couple in a serious relationship.”

  “Why? For how long?”

  Am I actually entertaining this crazy idea?

  “My reasons shouldn’t concern you. As for how long…that’s hard to say but I’ll know when we’re successful.”

  While I don’t like his curt dismissal of my why, I choose not to push—or at least go at him from another angle. “Speaking of success, what’s in it for you?”

  “A business opportunity.”

  I arch a brow urging him to share more. I’m surprised he gave me that much although I’m not quite sure what it means. Unfortunately, he doesn’t say a word, and his now flat expression suggests no further details are to come. Why is he deliberately speaking in riddles?

  It’s frustrating. I don’t have to do this. I could walk away. But all told, I don’t have anything to lose. If I walk out now, I still have to deal with Joel Hummel. And soon.

  “So let me see if I’ve got this straight. You want us to ‘date.’” I use air quotes when I say date. “Indefinitely. Nothing else. No kissing. No sex. Right? This would be a fake relationship.”

  He nods and his blue eyes darken as they roam my body, settling on my lips. “We will have to kiss. For appearances’ sake.”

  “Hmmm.” I tap my forefinger on my closed lips, examining the man from top to bottom as his focus remains on my lips. “In exchange, you take care of my landlord?”

  Dating a super-rich guy is a small price to pay if it means Joel Hummel is out of my life. I am moving no matter what, but Rothwell could make it so I don’t have to deal with my landlord for the time being. And in return, I’m wined and dined and get a glimpse into the world of the city’s wealthiest.

  I could do worse.

  I’ve done worse.

  And so what if I have to kiss him? What’s a kiss or two? Like I said, I’ve done worse.

  Zachary Rothwell may not be my type but kissing him is no big deal. With his gaze firmly fixed on me, his tongue peeps out to wet his lips, almost as if he’s reading my mind. The red tip of his tongue is like the end of a match, struck fast and low in my belly, burning.

  “Ms. Hayes, what do you say?”

  There’s a niggling thought that keeps poking at me—he owes my brother. So why am I making this deal?

  A droll laugh tumbles from my lips and his eyebrows quirk upward. The answer is simple. He’s doing this because he can.

  If I refuse, he’ll do the bare minimum to fulfill his debt to Drew and something tells me that won’t solve my landlord problems. He’s a smart and successful businessman and I’m way out of my league when it comes to negotiations. It’s plain to see, he’s a master at working a deal to his advantage; he wouldn’t be where he is today if he wasn’t. Now I fully understand the meaning of a “master of the universe”, he must always get his way.

  Sadly, I’m a damsel in distress. No, scratch that, I’m a schmuck who needs something from him and if he’s inclined to help, he might as well make it worth his while.

  I can’t blame him although there’s no use denying I’m resentful about the position I find myself in. People no longer—if they ever did—do things out of the goodness of their hearts. It’s every man for himself. And with that thought, I square my shoulders, nailing him with a direct stare.

  “Are you crazy?” I ask, pleased with my insult.

  Four

  Zach

  Tilting my head back, I belt out a laugh at what I’m sure the pretty lady figures is and intends to be offensive.

  Am I crazy?

  “I just might be,” I say with a soft chuckle and her pleasing facial features harden; she isn’t amused.

  “Great. So you’re asking me to get in bed.” She raises a finger and continues, “Figuratively, with a crazy person? I’m not so sure about this.”

  Dipping my chin to my chest to hide how entertaining I find her, my eyes fall on her sexy peep-toe heels. Wholly invested, my gaze rakes her five-six frame, maybe another inch or two with the heels, and her hip-hugging outfit does nothing to hide legs a mile long, the sultry dip of her slender waist, or the swell of her fine chest.

  I track the sweeping neckline of her dress, where I’m greeted with smooth golden skin and the long, sensuous curve of her neck. I linger on her plump lips for a few beats before the heat of her stare forces eye contact.

  “What do I have to do to convince you?” I’m deliberately flirty.

  It isn’t clear why propositioning Paige popped into my head and it isn’t a done deal. It still could backfire. She could run straight to her do-good brother and he’d chew me out and I’d be compelled to do the minimum. Then, one of my over-priced lawyers would send me an exorbitant bill for the dime-a-dozen cease and desist letter and we’d all go home no more satisfied than we are today.

  “I’m not sure you can.” She cocks a hip and smirks.

  And there it is again. The glint in her eyes, the very one that grabbed my attention when I first walked into my office. In my line of work, I’m quick to gauge a person’s character, and I’m more often than not right about my assessment. Paige’s spark was enough to get me thinking about a different approach to my trust fund problem.

  I’d tried and failed with the fake relationship angle by getting into bed—both metaphorically and literally—with someone I knew. Maybe the best approach to this kind of arrangement is to have no existing relationship with the other party.

  She’s a stranger and she certainly piqued my interest when I caught her snooping. She tried to be polite and demure about the whole thing, but her spunk was undeniable. My guess is, she likes to take risks and is comfortable with coloring outside the lines.

  Who could ask for a better business partner than that with whom to enter an unconventional arrangement?

  Or maybe my quick decision to proposition her had everything to do with how she seductively sank her teeth into her bottom lip. It wasn’t calculated—I’m not sure she even realized the effect she had on me. But either way, things definitely perked up. Instantly, my mind entertained all kinds of naughty things I’d like to do with that pretty pink mouth of hers.

  “Well, you have to let me at least try.” I wink and a light blush creeps up the curve of her neck.

  Charade or not, the arrangement needs to be believable. This is doable. I can see myself with a woman like Paige Hayes, even if she isn’t my usual type. The question is, could my grandmother?

  Nan Rothwell is nothing if not sharp. She’ll be the first to call bullshit if I pick up some random woman and pawn her off as my girlfriend.

  “Let’s go over this again so that I’m clear. What are the parameters of the deal?”

  The words engagement and marriage rest on the tip of my tongue because that’s what’s ultimately warranted, but something tells me Paige would leave, laughing in my face, if I said so at this juncture.

  And maybe marriage isn’t needed if Nan thinks our relationship is headed in that direction. Either way, Paige may be a risk-taker but she needs to be eased into the idea. Baby steps. I’ll focus on the basics for now and leave the finer details to another time.

  “You pretend to be my significant other, starting with a dinner Friday, and in return, I’ll sic my best lawyer on your landlord.”

  She brushes a long strand of chocolate-colored hair behind her ear and nods. “And would this mean we’re exclusive? Real or not?”

  “Of course.” My shoulders rise, finding her point of clarification unsettling. Is there a man in her life? Or someone she’s interested in? If so, she’s going to have to end it or this won’t work. “For the purpose of our deal, we’re monogamous and committed to one another.”

  “I’m close with my famil
y, I couldn’t keep you a secret…” She pauses, nibbling on her bottom lip again and her warm, charming gaze clouds with doubt. “Shit, I’d be lying to my family.”

  Rubbing at her forehead, she looks away and for a beat or two, I consider finding someone else, calling it off because of the turmoil on her face. But I’m not stupid or sentimental. Time is of the essence and Paige is willing—it’s clear in her body language. She wouldn’t have stayed this long and asked all these questions if otherwise.

  “Yes, you would.”

  I’m not wild about lying to Nan but she’s given me no choice. As if planned and on cue, my grandmother walks into my office.

  “Zachary, Karen’s at lunch and I wanted to—” She stops abruptly, realizing I’m not alone. “Oh dear, how rude of me. My apologies.”

  “Nan, it’s okay. It’s actually great timing.”

  Taking her hand, I guide her toward Paige and for the briefest of moments and completely out of character, I hesitate. What I’m about to do is a dick move. I’m forcing Paige’s hand. She could deny everything but she’s more than eighty percent on board with my proposition—this is just a little nudge.

  “Oh, really?” Nan looks to me and then Paige.

  “I want you to meet someone.” Standing between the women, my hand hovers at Paige’s lower back and she stiffens. “Paige Hayes, this is my grandmother, Nanette Rothwell.”

  “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Rothwell.” She bestows a warm smile upon Nan. Sharp. I’ll give her that. Without any conversation, Paige is following my lead well.

  “Nice to meet you, too. Please call me Nan.” My grandmother smiles but hers is like the royal wave, all form and function, no heart. “And how do you know my grandson?”

  Nan’s gaze drifts to me, and I glance down at her. “Sadly, you’re at a disadvantage thanks to me. I’ve told Paige so much about you and I haven’t told you anything about her.”

  Sliding my arm around the younger woman’s slender waist, I pull her into my side. “We’ve been seeing each other for some time now and I’ll be escorting her to Friday’s dinner.”