He's Mine Not Hers

by Gianni Holmes

  “Fuck, I don’t know what I’m doing, but I don’t want to end us. You’re the only thing keeping me sane.”

  I tried stepping away from him, but he kept a grip on me. “Are you sure? Because that’s what it seems like.”

  “I’m not,” he answered, lowering his head to kiss me, but I turned my head and his lips grazed my cheek. He sighed. “I’m sorry I’m not much fun right now. It’s just that I’m a little lost without an industrial kitchen to work from. It would almost be like someone taking away all your cosmetics and wigs, telling you that you no longer exist the way you’ve always seen yourself. Being a chef is all I’ve known, Jace.”

  Not be allowed to use my makeup? I went up on the tips of my toes and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. “I’m sorry I got offended. I’ll try to be more understanding. Just promise me you’ll speak to me if you need to talk to someone. I’m here for you like you’ve always been there for me. Don’t take that away from me, please.”

  ***

  Later at work, I was unusually quiet while my other coworkers tried to get my attention. Normally I was chatty, bubbly, with the energy of ten go-go dancers, but I couldn’t get my chat with Luke out of my mind.

  I was worried about him and also terrified that our relationship seemed to have taken off at the toughest point of his life. We didn’t have a history of intimacy. We were brand-new lovers with little roots to dig in to weather the storm. The more time I spent with him, the more I realized Becca had been right. All this time, I hadn’t been in love with him, merely infatuated.

  But it was hard not to fall in love with him now that I was getting to know him. This morning he’d bared a small vulnerable part of his soul to me, and I was falling for him. For real this time. I could try talking to Becca about this, but she was too close to Lucas. I didn’t trust her not to say anything to him even if she thought she was being vague. Lucas would know we had been discussing him, and I couldn’t have that at all. Not again.

  Besides, the night we’d made love for the first time, he’d made the distinction between sex and love. What if he only wanted to keep me for sex but didn’t feel as strongly about us as I felt for him?

  During lunch hour, I decided to approach my supervisor, Dorothy McKellan, about some ideas for the makeup counter at the store. I found her in the back in a small nook of an office that could barely hold her, a desk, two chairs, and me.

  “What can I do for you, Jason?” she asked after I knocked, and she motioned for me to sit.

  “Umm, there are a few things I wanted to discuss with you,” I answered, excited about my ideas despite what had happened at breakfast.

  “I can’t imagine what about.”

  “Well, working at the makeup counter is great,” I responded. “And seeing as I won a competition and was in London interning with a wonderful makeup artist, I got some ideas that I think would work well for the store.”

  She frowned, drumming her pen on the desk. “Ideas, you say? Who asked you to come up with these ideas, Jason?”

  My confidence dialed back a notch, and I swallowed. I’d sensed she didn’t particularly like me and the way my other coworkers gravitated to me, but I always took her for someone who had an acute business sense. Apparently, I was wrong about that too.

  “Umm, no one,” I replied, gripping the armrests to stop myself from gesticulating too much as I did when I was nervous. “I was just thinking about how to improve the service and—”

  “Are you saying there’s something wrong with the makeup service you provide?”

  “I think my service is excellent,” I replied not about to downplay the help I was to the place to please her. “What is a bit concerning is the quality of makeup we provide. I mean, we may get a customer to buy the first time, but if they’re not satisfied with the products, we won’t be retaining customers.”

  She placed both her hands on the desk. “Just a quick question to check some facts,” she remarked. “Everyone in the room who has a business degree, please raise your hand.”

  Her hand went up, and she gave me a dimpled smile that shouldn’t even look that beautiful. “You see, Jason? I’m the one with the business ideas. We ask you to do one thing and that’s to ensure a customer who approaches the counter leaves with something. Now, you’re wasting your lunchtime. Be sure to get back on time. I noticed you were three minutes late yesterday.”

  That said everything. I rose to my feet and headed for the door which was two steps away. I hadn’t expected it to be easy, but I’d been certain once she heard my ideas, she would love them. The joke was on me because she didn’t even listen to a word I had to say.

  “And Jason,” she said, stopping me at the door. “As of tomorrow, we want to see you using the makeup available on the counter. I’ve overheard you discussing the brands you use to potential clients knowing fully well we don’t stock them.”

  “Makeup is a personal thing,” I told her in protest. “I can’t wear your makeup.”

  “You’re supposed to represent what you’re selling. You can grab fifty dollars’ worth of cosmetics from the shelf, and I fully expect to see you using them tomorrow. You’re dismissed.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lucas

  “Man, I have to say that was epic, but you should understand why we can’t hire you.”

  I frowned at George Leveque, the owner of Les Saisons, a restaurant specializing in French foods but that also catered to an international cuisine. They were called Les Saisons because their menu changed for every new season. I’d been surprised they had responded to my application letter for an interview, and I’d been optimistic.

  I had expected to be confronted about my actions at my former workplace, but I’d practiced my response for when it was brought up. The position was a line chef, but I’d take this any day just to say screw you to everyone else who wanted to force me into a different direction. Namely my father, who expected me to kowtow to him.

  What I never expected was to be shown the video of my rampage on the white screen on the wall. I’d avoided all the videos that had gone viral, but I froze in my interviewer’s chair, unable to look away as I watched myself losing my shit for the first time.

  Fuck, it was bad. Like King Kong going on a rampage in NYC, leaving devastation in its wake. To make matters worse, the video had audio, and I was shouting obscenities about how much of my time I had invested in the restaurant. I completely ignored the gathering staff around me, trying to calm me down until I was restrained.

  “I don’t understand,” I stated, confused at what he hoped to achieve in bringing me here and showing me that video.

  “I just had to meet the guy who was brave enough to pull this stunt,” Leveque replied, fully grinning at me now. “To top it off, you’re the son of Lucas Bronte Sr. Nobody likes that son of a bitch who doesn’t mind plowing over people to get what he wants. Now they have more reason to hate the bastard.”

  “Are you saying you invited me here for an interview under false pretense?”

  “Come now. You had to have known the chances of you ever working back here in the food industry is next to nil. You might as well hang up your apron and stop sending out those applications, Bronte. It will be a long time before the restaurant industry forgets the likes of you.”

  I never had a problem with rage before trashing the restaurant, but now I wondered if it had always been there just waiting for the opportune moment to present itself. It filled me, swelling until I could barely see clearly. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “I’m not going to have to call security, am I, Bronte?”

  You goddamn should.

  I rose to my feet, reining in my anger. “Have a good day, Leveque.”

  “Thanks. Such a waste of talent. People around these parts talked highly of your skills.”

  I’d have preferred if he hadn’t said anything. I didn’t bother to claim the portfolio I had put together. What was the sense? He was right that my career in Seattle was don
e. If I were ever to work in the restaurant industry again, I’d have to move away.

  Or take up Dad’s offer.

  I hated I even contemplated my father’s offer. How the hell could I think about giving in to him when I had Jason in my life? I couldn’t betray him like this, and I didn’t want to lose him. He would never agree to be my side piece while I fulfilled my “duty,” married, and produced a Lucas Bronte III.

  It wasn’t going to fucking happen. Yet when I buckled down in my seat in the car, hands clutching the steering wheel and shaking with anger and humiliation, I faced the fact that I was running out of options. I was running out of restaurants to send my application, and if Leveque was to be believed, no one was going to hire me anyway.

  Leaving Seattle wasn’t an option. Everything I had was here. My house— although that was moot if my father carried out his threat—my friends, and Jason. I still had no idea where that relationship would go. It was quite fresh, but I enjoyed having him around. He made me laugh. He brightened up my days which were now gloomier than the Seattle sky. Anywhere I applied would ask for experience, and they would only learn what happened here anyway.

  I drove around, trying to clear my head, but by the time I pulled into my driveaway, I was no closer to figuring out what my next move would be. I needed someone to talk to. Definitely not Jason since this also involved him and possibly breaking off what we had.

  When I was upset, I did the only thing I knew how to. I cooked. I cleared the refrigerator, throwing out all the foods I had in storage because I’d cooked more portions that Jason and I combined could eat. Sometimes he brought home food for Becca as well, but there was easily still too much space being taken up in the fridge.

  After throwing out everything, I started from scratch baking a strawberry cheesecake. I had the crust baking in the oven while blending the cream cheese, sugar, and flour when the doorbell rang. I tried to ignore it because I knew for certain it wasn’t Jason since he was at work. The visitor kept jabbing at the doorbell though, refusing to go away.

  Damn, I left my car in the driveaway. Whoever was outside apparently figured out I was home.

  I put aside the hand blender and marched to the door, frowning when I saw Becca outside, fanning her face against the heat.

  “Oh, thank God.” She stepped past me inside the house and kicked off the heels she was wearing. “Why is it so hot today? The AC in the car is broken, and I felt like I was going to die before I got here.”

  I shut the door. “For someone who’s hot, you don’t look it at all.”

  “Jason’s doing,” she replied. “I apply my makeup and it starts running in the next five minutes. He takes a shot at it, and all I need is to powder my nose.”

  “Yeah, he sure has the knack for that type of stuff.”

  “I could do with some water though.”

  “Sorry. I’m being obtuse. Come on in. I’m baking, and I don’t want the crust of this cheesecake to burn.”

  “Ooh, cheesecake. Jason’s favorite. He tells me you’ve been spoiling him rotten with decent food and that’s why he’s hardly home anymore.”

  “Sorry I took your bestie,” I told her as we entered the kitchen. She hitched herself up onto one of the stools, and I grabbed a bottle of room temperature water and handed it to her. “Why aren’t you at work, and why are you all dressed up?”

  She held up a finger as she took a drink from the bottle. I should have offered her a glass, but this was Becca, the woman who drank beer with me out of the can on numerous occasions. We were comfortable around each other not to maintain pretenses.

  “Ah, that’s good,” she said on a sigh when she’d downed half the liquid. “I’m off work today, but I had an interview.”

  “What kind of interview?” I asked, checking on the crust, satisfied it was coming along quite nicely. “Are you looking for a new job?”

  “Not that kind of an interview,” she replied. “But before I get into it, how are things going with you and Jason?”

  I groaned and picked up the blender, hoping to distract her, but she was looking at me expectantly. “We’re fine,” I answered.

  “Just fine? You used to talk to me extensively about your dates.”

  “When they aren’t your son.”

  “I don’t know what the big deal is. You know I’m not that kind of mom.”

  I stopped blending to regard her. “That’s another thing I never understand. Why aren’t you that kind of mom?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “Such as?”

  She shrugged. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you instead? Jason said you had an interview today. You’re baking up a storm in here, so I’m guessing it didn’t go well.”

  “My baking doesn’t mean anything.”

  “It went well, then?” Her brows arched in a challenge.

  “No, it was a disaster,” I admitted, leaning against the island. “Fuck, I don’t know what to do now, but today’s interview showed me that I’ll never be able to work as a chef in this city again. Unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  I shook my head. “It doesn’t bear thinking about. I couldn’t hurt Jason like that.”

  “Okay, now I’m curious. Why would you hurt him? I know you just started seeing each other, but he sounded like everything was good.”

  “My father was here a few days ago,” I replied, certain this would probably get back to Jason, but hoping Becca would keep it between us anyway.

  “I thought that bastard cut you off.”

  “He did, but he’s giving me a way back into the family. He’s even got me a job working at a new restaurant that will be opened and volunteers to pay off the damages to the restaurant.”

  “And you’d take it if you weren’t involved with Jason, wouldn’t you?”

  The very fact that I thought about it made me feel guilty like I had betrayed the boy who had put so much of his trust in me. He hadn’t said the words to how he felt, but I saw it every time I looked at him. What we had between us was more than just sex, but we’d probably never get the chance to figure out how far it could have gone.

  “I can’t do what my father wants, Becca!” I cried in frustration. “His price is too steep. He wants me to marry and have a child so the business can stay in the family. He knows I have no interest in running a real estate company.”

  “He wants you to marry? This is perfect.”

  I scowled at her. “No, it’s not. I’m not interested in marrying anyone right now.”

  “Why not have an arranged marriage?” she suggested. “It would solve all your problems. You get someone to marry you just to appease your father and get your hands on your inheritance. Lucas, if you did that, you wouldn’t even need to work for anyone else. You’d be able to start your own business. It doesn’t have to be a large restaurant, but no one will be able to fire you again, and you and I know that despite you not being hired now, if you sold food from the trunk of your car, people would line up to get their share. That’s how good you are.”

  True, but there was one big problem. “I can’t trust a woman to enter a business arranged marriage with me, Becca. With the crazy luck I have she might get too comfortable being a Bronte and not want to leave peacefully.”

  I was surprised to see Becca’s bright smile. “And that’s why you marry someone you know quite well. Me!”

  I laughed at her suggestion. “Marry you? Don’t be insane.”

  “No, don’t dismiss the idea so quickly,” she said, clinging to my arm. “Just listen to me, and I’ll give you some time to think about it. Jason knows we’re friends. He would know the marriage is all a sham. You’ll still be able to explore your relationship. You marry me and your father is appeased. You get your inheritance. He gets to talk about his son and his daughter-in-law to his best cronies. But most importantly you get to keep Jason.”

  My heart skipped a beat at her words. They filled me with false hope even though I knew her reasoning was flawe
d.

  “No, it would never work.”

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Because this kind of thing never ends well in movies. Why should we think we’ll have a better handle on the situation?”

  “Because we’re not a couple of dumbasses. We’re close, and we understand each other, the motives, and the boundaries.”

  “Then how about the fact that Jason will never go for it?” I demanded. “And I can’t force him to accept this either. It wouldn’t be fair to him. Not after I’ve been intimate with him.”

  “If you’re worried about Jason, I can get him to accept this. He knows when things are at stake sometimes you have to do what you have to do to get out of it. We’ve had to do things we’ve not been proud of to get where we are today, Lucas.”

  “Well, this is not as simple as you putting a nine-year-old boy in a dress and entering him into pageants. This could get messy fast.”

  Contrary to what Becca thought, I didn’t see Jason ever agreeing to such a ruse. Even if it’s in name only and we all get what we want in the end? Yes, even then, I didn’t see him giving the go-ahead for me to marry his mother. That was just wrong and disturbing.

  Becca was my friend and nothing intimate would happen between us, but the idea of marrying her when I was sleeping with her son was inconceivable. The best thing to do in that scenario would be to give up Jason, but how could I? For the first time, I didn’t have sex and feel like crap when I woke up the next morning. That meant something although I wasn’t quite positive what yet.

  At the same time, how could I get myself out of my dire situation? Becca was right that an arranged marriage would be ideal to play into my father’s hands and have my way, but if that was the way to go, I would prefer to go into business with someone I knew. Someone who would understand and agree to the terms, not falling in love and expecting more halfway down the line.

  “Hold on a minute,” I said, turning my full attention to Becca. “It seems quite convenient for you to come up with all of this so quickly, and for you to offer yourself up. What’s in it for you?”