Real Liars

by S. M. West

  I’m not sure how or when Zach got the money. He doesn’t have that kind of money. If he did, he wouldn’t need his trust fund for his hotel. Is this another lie he’s cooked up to satisfy the crowd—have the evening end on a high note?

  “Project Miranda is near and dear to my heart for several reasons. Of course, this work will be done in my mother’s name and I can’t think of a better project than one where we’re helping to provide fresh water to communities that don’t have a viable drinking water source. If my mother were here today, she’d be thrilled with this project and our ambition.”

  He walks to one end of the stage, closer to me, his gaze still coming to me every so often. “I also backed this project because the entire concept is near and dear to the love of my life, Paige Hayes.” He extends one hand in my direction.

  I gasp and my heart spasms as heads turn to look at me. My cheeks redden and I smile and wave as those I know offer words about how adorable Zach is and what a wonderful cause I selected.

  “And Paige is now the Director of Strategy and Development for the Rothwell Foundation. She’s got grand plans for our foundation and I can tell you right now, look out for next year’s invitation to Nuit Étoilée. If you think this year is amazing, she’s going to knock your socks off next year!”

  I can’t believe he just said that. Why is he announcing a role I have no intention of taking? And he said I’m the love of his life? My stomach twists and flutters while I contemplate grabbing the microphone and getting him off the stage. Who knows what else he has planned?

  But another part of me is overwhelmed by his generosity. He is a smart businessman and wouldn’t be stupid enough to lie about backing the project. At least, I don’t think so. None of this makes any sense.

  Thirty-One

  Zach

  “Let me see your phone.” I stretch out my palm, open and flat.

  I gave Paige a day to lick her wounds and recover from the wildly successful gala, but I’m done waiting. She slipped out while I was swarmed by excited donors as I tried to leave the stage. I called all day yesterday and she never responded to any of my attempts.

  Today, I deliberately banged on her door at eight this morning, wanting to catch her asleep, and possibly in a more open-minded state. Or at the very least, groggy.

  “What?” Paige runs her fingers through her unruly hair and scrunches her nose.

  “Your phone.”

  “It’s in the bedroom.” She’s confused but doesn’t stop me from marching into the condo.

  I don’t know where the bedroom is, but the place isn’t too big and I find it quickly. She follows, calling my name and asking me what I’m doing. Her phone rests on the bedside table and I hand it to her.

  “Could you please enter your password.”

  “What are you doing?” She’s more awake now.

  “Password, please.” I raise an eyebrow and she does as I ask, handing it back to me, and I have to bite back my smile. We’re going to be okay.

  “Well, your phone works,” I say, after checking her phone and texts.

  “What? Of course it works.”

  “Well, since I never got so much as a one-word reply to all my texts and phone calls yesterday, I’d hoped your phone was broken.”

  She releases a sheesh and rolls her eyes. “I didn’t have a reply for you. I’m not upset with you, Zach. I’m ticked off at myself. I let our agreement get away from me, and I forgot that this,” she motions between us, “was make-believe. When Reagan made that scene and then you confirmed that you’d also made a similar deal with another woman…” She stops, swallowing back her tears. “Argh,” she grumbles, slumping onto the bed and dropping her head in her hands. “I don’t want to be upset about this. I should have known better.”

  “What do you mean?” I sit on the bed beside her, deliberately close so our thighs touch.

  “We had a fake relationship and then you proposed. I wanted it even knowing you could break my heart. I wanted you and I wanted to believe we were real.”

  “We are real.” My throat suddenly constricts, not because I’m unsure or afraid of admitting my feelings, but because I can’t lose her. “You’re the realest thing in my life and I think we were meant to find each other this way.”

  She snorts, looking at me. “What, lying to each other and everyone else?” I nod and suck in my bottom lip. Her eyes fix on my mouth and her gaze liquefies.

  “If it had been any other way, one or both of us might have easily dismissed any chance at a relationship.” I bury my hands in her hair and bend to catch her mouth in a kiss. I need to taste her, feel her.

  “Wait, stop.” Eyes shining, she slowly pulls away. “How do I know this is real? We had a business arrangement so you could get your trust fund.”

  “That went away a while ago.”

  “What?” She tilts her head to the side.

  “I gave my trust fund to Nan. Well, not all of it. I used my trust fund for Project Miranda.”

  “What?”

  “I think you said that before. What don’t you understand?”

  “What about St. Barts? The hotel? Why would you do that? Give up your dream?”

  “I’d do anything for you. When Reagan walked, there really wasn’t any other solution and I realized I wanted Project Miranda as much as you did. Paige, you chose my mother’s name for this significant endeavor. Do you have any clue what that means to me?”

  She smiles sheepishly, wiping a tear away with the back of her hand, and I swipe my thumb along the same path.

  “I suggested her name because of the way everyone spoke about her. This project sounds like something she would have wanted. The decision was ultimately the board’s.”

  Ignoring her modest attempt to downplay her generosity and importance, I push on. “I took your advice and sat Nan down and had her listen to my idea. She agreed to present my business plan to the board. She’s warming to the idea of diversifying our business model.”

  “What?”

  This time I out and out laugh, enjoying her confusion and how stuck she is on the word ‘what’—it’s kind of cute. “Forget about all that for now. Let’s talk about us.”

  She opens her mouth and I’m willing to guess she wants to ask ‘what’ but then closes her mouth.

  “My marriage proposal was real. Our relationship became real to me a long time ago. It might have even been real from the start. I just didn’t know how to say it. But by Montreal, I was a goner. Our arrangement meant nothing to me. You were mine and I had no plans of ending things whether I got my trust fund or not.”

  “But…but all we’ve done is lie.”

  “Oh baby, lies or not, this is real.” I take her hands in mine. “And you want to know why? Because all I want is you.”

  “How am I supposed to believe you? Zachary Rothwell, you’re a liar.” She pulls from my grasp, putting distance between us.

  “I am and so are you.” I wink, moving in a flash to ensnare her in my arms, pressing her warm body flush against mine. Now she’s wriggling to break free.

  “Yes, I am. I lied to everyone.” Tears glisten in her eyes and she rests her head on my chest. “I lied to my family and friends, and Nan. And I hated every minute of it.”

  “I wasn’t wild about it either, you know. And I did some serious apologizing when I came clean to Nan.”

  “What?” She lifts her head to look at me with her eyes bulging, incredulous. “You told her about our arrangement? She knows I lied?”

  She pales once again, trying to wrestle free of my embrace. “I wanted to tell her. I never wanted her to find out from someone else.”

  “Hear me out.” I squeeze her gently and she stills. “I told her everything, and she knew the truth before she came to the condo with Harley.” I pause, letting that sink in. “She isn’t upset with you at all.”

  “I’m a liar.” She spits the words, angry with herself.

  “Yeah, you are, but not in the way you think.”

 
“What?” She growls when the word she’s been stuck on slips from her mouth. Again.

  “You lied to yourself.” My hands cup her face. “We love each other. I love you.”

  The corner of her mouth curls into a hint of a smile and she bites her bottom lip. That does it. Flickers of desire sizzle through my body as I lean in and crush my mouth to hers, capturing her plump lip between my teeth. I suck on her sweetness.

  “I love you, too.” The words tumble from her mouth followed by a shuddering breath. Finally, she admits what I’ve felt for a long time now.

  “Paige, we’re the real deal. I never knew I wanted a wife, and maybe one day a family of my own, until you. And it has nothing to do with my trust or hotels or anything but you.”

  I love having my hands on her and I wrap them tightly around her hips, hauling her against me as I latch my mouth onto hers. She slides her legs around my waist, and I walk us until my back hits the wall. Her scent and touch consume me. I’m alive, more alive than I’ve ever been, and it’s all because of her.

  My fingers dig into her thighs, one hand sliding up her back to burrow into her thick waves of hair. I tug just enough to make her hiss and nip at her lip. She loves the sting as much as I do, and we kiss and kiss, only breaking when the burn in our lungs forces us to gasp for air. My lips are swollen, buzzing, and greedy.

  “I need a shower,” she says against my lips.

  “Babe, I could use a shower, too. Let’s go.”

  Our shower is long and hot until the water isn’t. I take care and show her how much I missed her even if we were only apart for a few days. One day is too many.

  We don’t use words. Our mouths, hands, and bodies apologize, worship, and forgive. We tell each other all our truths—even the ones we never say to ourselves—and I show her how much I love her and how nothing is more real than us.

  Epilogue

  Zach

  Two Months Later

  “This better be a sick joke.” I tighten the towel around my waist, gritting my teeth and staring at my angry reflection in the mirror.

  My shower had been enjoyable. Long and soothing, washing away the sweat and ache from the game of tennis with Walker. Now any gained relaxation has vanished with this call.

  “Afraid not, sir.” Tamara inhales sharply as if fortifying herself for whatever else I may dish out. “We knew this was a strong possibility,” she cautions and pauses.

  With my palms flat on the bathroom counter, I lean forward and hang my head, unable to look at myself any longer. She’s right. We always knew the verdict on Hummel’s trial could go many ways. But why do I feel like a failure? I failed Paige.

  The motherfucker got three years and could be out in as little as six to eight months for good behavior. He deserves the full ten years, more if I had my way. The reality is, criminal harassment and other similar crimes like stalking and rape—all where the odds are heavily skewed toward women as the target—have a very low conviction rate. Disgustingly so.

  In Hummel’s case, it didn’t help our case when the other woman, a past tenant who had also been harassed by him, refused to officially testify. That made it Paige’s word against his.

  “Send me the bill and our options for making sure he never does this again.” I jam my finger on the phone screen, ending the call, and curl a hand around the back of my neck, hoping to squeeze the tension from my body and erase the sense I let the woman I love down.

  Even with his DNA from his jizz fest—sick fuck—the judge was lenient, stating this was his first offence. If only we could have proved otherwise. Justice Reeves stated he hoped with leniency there was a chance of Joel’s rehabilitation. I have no such hope or belief. I would have stopped at nothing to bring forth more evidence, witnesses, or victims for the maximum sentence, but there were none to be had. Sometimes money can’t get you everything you want.

  My hand runs through my damp hair, brushing it off my face, and the other hand feels my jawline, checking if I should shave or if I can push it another day. Thoughts of telling Paige the news run through my mind. I don’t want this to taint our vacation.

  Today is the first day of a week in Muskoka at Drew and Pippa’s cottage with her family. When I tell her, she’ll be indifferent about the whole thing. She doesn’t like to talk about him. She isn’t in denial or avoiding the topic—it’s more she’s moving on with her life.

  We took all the necessary steps to make sure he doesn’t do this to someone else and if it’s the last thing I ever do, I’ve promised her he’ll never get near her again.

  True to my word, shortly after the lobby incident, I paid a little visit to Joel’s father, the owner of all the rental properties Joel manages.

  I educated Hummel senior on how sick his son is and made him see the error of his ways in allowing his son the privilege of managing those properties and vulnerable tenants. When Joel gets out of jail, he won’t have a job with Daddy. His father assured me he will keep a close eye on his son.

  “Hey, you hungry?” Paige taps lightly on the ajar bathroom door before peering around it. “JP made pancakes.”

  “I’m hungry but not for pancakes.” I beckon for her to come to me, and she readily obliges, smiling and sliding her warm hands around my bare waist. “I’m hungry for something sweeter.”

  I brush her hair off her shoulder and nuzzle into her neck, breathing in her warm spicy scent. “Did you get your work done?”

  Today’s tennis game wasn’t the usual with Walker. It’s Friday and I left the penthouse, giving Paige a chance to tie up some loose ends with the foundation so I could have her to myself. I promised to do the same—no work for ten full days.

  She nods, opening her mouth, and a moan slips from her lips with the first lick of my tongue against her sweet skin. Before Paige, I used to shower at the club after any kind of physical activity and sometimes even grab a bite before going home. Now, when she’s here waiting for me, I’m the first to leave.

  My fingers thread her hair at the back of her head, and she smiles perceptively. “Hey, relax.” Her finger brushes at the furrow between my brow, trying to smooth out the crinkle. “I already know.” She pushes onto her toes and kisses the tip of my stubbled chin, pulling away to peer up at me again. “Tamara called me first.”

  A frown ghosts my features and I shake my head. “I should’ve known. Has she forgotten who pays her bills?”

  She quirks a brow. “About that—” I shake my head, saying, “Nope. We already discussed this and there’s nothing left to discuss. I pay Tamara’s bills regardless of how your situation has changed.”

  Paige’s fingers run up and down my bare back and my balls tighten as my dick twitches. Damn.

  We now live together, and I refuse to accept any of her money for anything. I have more money than I will ever spend and having her in my life is all I need from her. Nothing else. Well, there is one more thing I want from her, but I won’t push it. Right now, anyway.

  I want Paige to be my wife. When I had originally proposed, it had been genuine regardless of our arrangement, but with everything with Reagan, Donovan, and coming clean with all our friends and family, she’s asked me to not ask. She wants us to enjoy our time as a couple. Together for real. No lies.

  Patience is a bitch. I’m trying really hard to be patient and give her what she wants. But I’m not getting any younger and I want everything with her. A home, a family, and all the things I never wished for, or even thought about, before Paige.

  “Fine.” She pouts, trying to step away but my grasp holds her firmly to me.

  “Where are you going?” My lips lightly graze her plump ones and I’m seconds away from removing all her clothes and having her. “I told you I’m hungry.”

  “We can’t. We’re expected at my mom’s in thirty minutes. She just texted she’s on her way back from the airport with Drew and Pip. Everyone is heading to the cottage shortly.”

  “Thirty minutes is plenty of time,” I say suggestively, nibbling on her neck aga
in.

  “Zach, you’re not playing fair. I’m starving—I want breakfast before we leave.” Her hands roam my chest, inching closer to the towel wrapped loosely around my waist.

  She chews on her bottom lip, blinking as she’s torn between indulging in me or getting some food before we have to leave.

  I grab her left hand in mine, my thumb absently rubbing the base of her ring finger where an engagement ring should be. It’s become a subconscious thing I do and every time I catch myself, it feels like I’m silently sending her a message to make my wish come true.

  “I promise to feed you on the way,” I whisper, and my mouth brushes her earlobe as my fingers deftly undo the button of her shorts, sliding the denim effortlessly down her silky legs. “If you feed me now.”

  I grant her a devilish wink and a smile flits over her lips before she schools her features, wrinkling her nose. She continues to pretend her serious contemplation of her supposed dilemma. Food or me.

  “You’re killing me, Paige.” I whip her top over her head, and she gasps as her bra falls to the floor and my towel follows suit. “Look what you do to me. Help me out.”

  I give her a dirty smile and her gaze drops to my arousal, darkening as the tip of her pink tongue darts out to wet her lip.

  “Why Mr. Rothwell, my appetite has suddenly changed, and it looks like you’ve got exactly what I’m craving.”

  PAIGE

  Six Months Later

  Yawning, I power off the computer, rolling my neck to work out the kinks before heading to bed. It’s well past eleven and I’m still nowhere near ready for my upcoming trip to Africa.

  The past few months at the foundation, bringing Project Miranda to life, have been a dream and stressful but in the best way possible. We’re days away from opening the first desalination plant. I’m excited and anxious for my second visit, and there’s only one thing that would make this trip perfect. If only Zach would come with me.