by Tessa Layne
I'm unused to this confessional side of Stockton, but I like it.
"After a particularly nasty fight one night, about six months before he died, she threatened to divorce him. He said something I'll never forget. You can worship money or you can worship women, but you can't worship both. If you try, you'll fail at both."
I sit with that for a moment, and then it hits me. "You had a pregnancy scare, didn't you?"
He nods. "I'm grateful that's all it was, but I realized I don't want children. I'm as tied to Steele Conglomerate as my father was to his law firm."
I fill in the blanks. "And you don't want marriage either because you're gone all the time. So why this?" I wave between us. "Why now?"
Again he stares at me intensely. "You're safe. I know you don't want children either, and you're part of my work."
I nod, refusing to flinch at the painful stab that cuts through me. "But what about your mom?"
"When you break up with me because you can't stand my work schedule and I repeat the same words she leveled at my father, she'll understand."
"Ah. I see. So we're flinging until further notice?" I'm finding it hard to breathe.
"Are you okay with that?"
I nod. "Yeah. Of course. Sure." I wave a hand. "You're the official itch scratcher."
"I like that." He pulls me down for a kiss and because I'm a fool, or I'm already in too deep over my head, I kiss him back. His erection grows beneath me, and I shift my hips so I'm rocking against it and he's sliding between my slick folds. "You feel incredible, Penny," he tells me when we part.
"I'm two years into a five-year IUD," I blurt, face heating.
He freezes, searching my face. "Are you sure?"
I bite my lip and nod. "It's been a long time. Longer than you."
"How long?" he asks suspiciously.
"Not quite two years."
I can see his mind whirling, the backward counting, and when it hits him, he scowls. "Ruben? He was your first," he says darkly, putting two and two together.
I nod. "But we're only friends now, I swear."
"You can't be friends with an ex."
"Maybe you can't. But Ruben's... different. And we have a long history."
"Tell me," he says pulling on a stray curl.
"There's not much to tell. He's the son of the first foster family I was sent to when I was eleven. He was seventeen and not long after I arrived, he joined the army. We reconnected by accident when I turned eighteen and I wandered into his shop looking for a tattoo." I debate how much to tell him, but Stockton confided in me. I should be brave enough to do the same. I take a breath. "And two years ago, I asked him to pop my cherry."
Stockton's chest rumbles with a jealous growl. "Hey. If you liked me, you should have spoken up." I bend and kiss his temple, knowing he's thinking about my twenty-first birthday.
"What happened?" he asks gruffly.
My heart gives a painful twist. "Ruben struggles with PTSD. We mutually agreed that we were better off staying friends."
"That's when he gave you the tattoos." He traces the vine that trails down to my breast.
I nod, amused by Stockton's jealousy. "You have nothing to worry about where Ruben's concerned. You're not the only one who's had a heavy case of like for the last four years," I confess. This much I can acknowledge, now that I know he's felt the same way.
"I'm speaking up now, Penny," he says roughly turning to capture my mouth as he slides inside me.
I can do this whole colleagues who are hot for each other using a fake engagement as a reason to get it on thing. And I'm old enough to keep my heart intact while doing it. At least that's what I keep telling myself.
Chapter Fourteen
Penny
It would be so easy to spend the night, but at eleven p.m. I drag myself from his bed. "You'll be up early and I'm a light sleeper." The half-truth slides easily from my lips. I could easily fall into sharing his bed twenty-four-seven, but a girl's got to have standards. And since this is just a temporary arrangement, I need to keep firm boundaries. In fact, I decide as I zoom down the elevator and walk across the street to my significantly more modest condo, I'm going to keep my visits to his place to a minimum... no more than... twice a week. Okay, maybe three times. A girl needs her O's after all. He travels so much this time of year it won't be that hard.
My resolve lasts until six-thirty the next day when Stockton comes out of his office, and playing with a stray curl that's slipped out of my messy bun, suggests sushi. "We can discuss Berlin."
"Sure," I reply, pushing back from my desk and grabbing my purse.
I leave his condo at two a.m.
I cave the next day, too.
"Penny," he hollers Thursday morning. I ignore him for a full five minutes, reminding myself I have standards. I'm a modern woman who doesn't drop everything the second my overbearing boss hollers. He sends me a text.
S: get your pretty ass in here asap or I will happily pink it up with my bare hand later tonight.
I'm tempted to wait another five minutes. But when I turn around and catch him staring at me with a hungry look in his eyes, I decide it's better for all parties if I comply.
"Shut the door, please," he says, suddenly all business.
"Everything okay?"
"You know I'm leaving town tomorrow, right?"
"Yes. Boston for the regatta, then San Francisco for a meeting at the Jet Propulsion Lab. What's that project for again?" It's on everyone's calendar - the whole C-team is going, but it's all very hush hush. That's nothing new, really. Steele Conglomerate has its fingers in a lot of pots, some of them very sensitive. I'm privy to the few that have to do with communications and security.
Stockton waves me into a seat. "I should have mentioned something Monday, but... I got distracted."
"Oh?" I get his implication, but I'm not sure I like it. "What do you mean? Does this have something to do with your meetings?"
He nods, expression grim. "Washington wants us to work with the Jet Propulsion Lab to develop security and defense applications for a quantum computing prototype they're developing."
I blink. "That's great news," I exclaim. Quantum computing will revolutionize security and communications and whoever gets there first will own the planet. This is huge. "Are they close?"
Stockton's face pulls tight. "I'm not at liberty to say." His tone brooks no arguments.
"What-"
He holds up a hand. "Don't ask. I can't tell."
"I don't understand." Except I do. I don't have clearance to discuss it.
"You're not a physicist, Penny. You and the cybersquad will get pulled in to run security and coms experiments once the technology has been proven."
"It's because we broke the law, isn't it?" I fill in tonelessly. For the first time in my life, I'm filled with regret for what I did. Breaching government defenses was a game to me. I was nineteen and bored. I had no idea of the gravity of my mistake, or the vulnerability I'd exposed. And now it's costing me.
He pulls a hand across his jaw. "Of course not. We don't fly you to Shanghai to discuss chip manufacturing. This is the same thing."
Except that it's cutting edge technology I'm wildly curious about. "I can tell you what to look for," I offer, grasping for straws. "What I'd want in a quantum system, if it's even possible."
He shakes his head. "I'm not going to be able to talk about it at all, Penny."
Jeezus.
My stomach drops to my toes while my insides heat to boiling. I took this job thinking that my slate was wiped clean forever. Except that it's not, and it makes me wonder where else my past is going to raise its ugly head. I swallow down my shame and put on a brave face. "How long will you be gone?"
"A week. The team will be back Friday."
"But that's-"
"I know. I'm sorry. I won't be able to go with you this time."
That... stings. In four years, Stockton's never once missed a visit out to the Women's Eastern Reception, Diagnostic and
Correctional Center in Vandalia. The place where my mother has been incarcerated for the last twelve years.
"But-" I blink back the prickles that suddenly irritate my eyes.
"I'm sorry Penny. I did everything I could. You'll be fine this once."
He's so businesslike and unemotional, it's frightening. "Of course," I say with too much force and a smile I don't feel. I made those trips by myself once upon a time, and I can do it again. It's just... I swallow down the lump in my throat.
"Edward's at your disposal."
"Thank you," I murmur, although I have no intention of using Edward while Stockton's gone. I have a car, I can drive myself.
"Also, what's next Friday look like for you?"
I snort. "Are you asking me to get out my planner?"
"Be serious, Penny. My mother's asking."
"Netflix and chill? Maybe babysitting Polly?" Polly is the adorable daughter of my friend Lisa, who used to work for Danny, who rows in Stockton's boat. Lisa's super cool and I don't mind playing Aunt Penny a few times a month so she can get out. Although lately, Owen's been stealing most of my auntie shifts. But if the C-team's going to be in San Francisco, it sounds like the perfect week to go hang out with Lisa.
"Friday night, my mother wants to host a soiree."
I roll my eyes, hard. "You're kidding."
"She wants to introduce us to her circle."
"This is another fancy thing, isn't it?"
"I'm afraid so. I'm sure she'll contact you with the details. If you need a new dress, I have an account at Halls."
"I think I have enough money I can buy myself a dress," I say with a snort. "But point taken. I'll show up in something that meets your mother's standards." The thought puts an idea into my head. "Is there anything else?"
Stockton looks taken aback. "Ah, no, that's all."
I rise and turn. He calls after me when I reach the door. "Penny?"
I pause but don't turn around.
"I'm so sorry. I did everything I could."
I bow my head. "I know." I don't begrudge him that. I'm grateful he tried. And I hate that I've been weighed and found wanting. It's a painful reminder of the old adage you're only as good as your worst day. Even if that day comes when you're nineteen.
The office without Honore's daily interruptions is much quieter. By the end of the day I've completed two onboarding projects for new clients in Oslo and Dubai. I pack my bag when Stockton's across the hall chatting with Harrison and sneak out like a delinquent teenager crawling out of an upstairs window.
Ruben texts on my way down to the lobby.
R: Hey, I've got a cancelation tomorrow if you want me to finish the color on your arm.
I whip off a reply as I cross the lobby.
P: Great. Shoot me the details. See you then! xo
R: FYI your fiancé paid me a visit yesterday...
"What?" I squeal as I slide into the back seat of the Uber I ordered. I dial Ruben. "Are you kidding me?" I ask as soon as he picks up. "What in the hell was he doing there?"
"It wasn't because he wanted a tattoo, Mahal," Ruben says with a low chuckle. "I think he was worried about the competition."
My stomach drops. "You're kidding," I say again. "That doesn't make any sense."
"Has he seen my artwork?"
It's a loaded question, and I hear both pride and jealousy in his voice. I hadn't planned on telling Ruben that I was sleeping with Stockton, at least not yet. But there's no sidestepping his question. "Yes."
Ruben lets out a heavy breath that makes me cringe. I hate hurting him, but this day was inevitable, even if it wasn't Stockton. "Then of course it makes sense Mahal. You're a brilliant beautiful young woman, and Stockton is a smart man. He would be able to recognize the love and care that went into your artwork."
"But he had no right," I bristle as heat crawls up my chest and neck. "None at all." Then another thought hits me. "Ohmygod, you didn't tell him you know our engagement is fake, did you? Nobody knows. Nobody's supposed to know."
"Your secret's safe with me Mahal. You have nothing to worry about." His voice hardens. "But I warned him there would be consequences if he mistreats you in any way."
"What did you tell him, Ruben?" My mind races. Ruben is hardcore. He was an Army Ranger, and while he won't talk about it, I'm certain he did... things. Scary things. A shudder ripples down my spine.
"It was a conversation between men, Mahal. We understand each other now."
"He's a nice man, Ruben. And I... I..."
"I know how you feel about him, Mahal."
"Oh god, you didn't tell him that did you?" I'd die of mortification if he knew how deeply my feelings run.
"Of course not. Your secrets - all of them - are safe with me." He clears his throat. "My next client is here. We can talk more when I see you tomorrow?"
"Yes, of course," I say as the Uber pulls up in front of a salon in the heart of the Crossroads. Inside, a woman about my age greets me with a fresh-faced smile. "Are you Penny?"
I nod.
"Follow me. Malcom is waiting for you."
She hands me a bottled water and I follow her through the row of chairs filled with chattering stylists and happy clients to a room in the back. "Malcom" awaits.
One look, and I can tell he's the real deal - skinny jeans, heavy glasses, a short-sleeved plaid button-up, and great hair. "Have a seat, sweetheart," he says with a wave. "What do we have to work with?"
I pull my hair out of its topknot and he tsks with a shake of his head. "Oh hon. That's a hot mess."
Truer words have never been spoken. "Can you help?"
He makes a face, and picks up the ends of my hair, running his hands through my tangled curls. "Perm?"
"No. The curls are mine."
"Your best bet is to cut it all off and start over."
"I was afraid you were going to say that."
He lets out a dramatic sigh. "And I was afraid you were going to say that. You can save it, but I recommend a cut of at least six inches, and you need to know this can't happen in one sitting."
"I'm aware of that. Can it happen by next Friday? I can pay."
Malcom pulls out his iPad. "You said the magic words, sweetheart. Because fixing this mess is going to cost you."
A thrill of excitement winds through me. This is the first time since Stockton plucked me out of my meager existence in Rolla four years ago that I've spent any money on myself aside from the fancy perfume I buy every six months at Halls. "My fiancé is away on a business trip until next Friday. I want to surprise him." It feels weird to say that, but as it's public knowledge, it would be weirder if I didn't say it.
Malcom's face lights up. "Why didn't you say so? Oh we are going to make you gorgeous. He's not going to know what hit him."
"That's the idea," I say with a little giggle, already imagining his face when he sees my new look. My phone buzzes with a new text alert. I wrap up with Malcom and decide to grab a bite at a noodle shop before I walk back to my place. The afternoon is warm and perfect for being outside. I know it's Stockton that's texted, but I hold off until I'm seated with my bowl of beef Pho.
S: Where are you?
I smirk. I can hear his tone of voice through the phone. For a hot second I consider ignoring him, but that will inevitably lead to him camping outside my door until I arrive home, and then I won't be able to resist him. I text him the address of the Pho shop. Seven minutes later, he strolls in with a determined look on his face as he scans the restaurant. In the three seconds it takes before he spots me, I see him as every other single woman in the restaurant does, tall, broad, and take no prisoners. My stomach does a slow roll which turns into butterflies the moment he spots me and makes his way over to me. He bends, caging me in with a hand on the table and another on the back of my chair. My heart races as he leans in and takes a slow kiss I'm all too willing to give. He pulls back, eyes stormy. "Why'd you leave without saying anything?"
"I had somewhere to be and I didn't want to inte
rrupt."
His eyes sharpen, but he doesn't push for more details. Instead, he pulls out the seat next to me. "I'd planned to take you to dinner tonight."
"Are you pouting?"
He breaks into a smile. "Maybe just a little."
"I'd love to join you but I have knitting club tonight."
His face freezes in an expression somewhere between abject disbelief and amusement. "Knitting club? Is that the new 'I have to wash my hair' excuse?"
"The 'wash my hair' thing is a relic from the seventies, and yes, I really do have knitting club." Once a month a group of us meet in the back room of Died in the Wool, a cute little yarn shop in Westport to gossip and share our projects. The lace dress I've been working on is finally finished and I've been dying to show it off.
"Can I come with you?"
I put down my chopsticks and stare. "To knitting club?" I shake my head with a laugh. "No. Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"Do I ask to go to your rowing practices or your team workouts? No." I shake my head in disbelief. "You're not coming with me to knitting club." Although the thought of him sitting in the back room with the grandmas that comprise most of the group is more than a little entertaining. So entertaining that for a full moment, I consider letting him join me, just to see the expression on his face when the ladies inevitably gush over him.
"I can drop you off and pick you up, then," he says, jaw tightening.
"That's really not necessary. I've been going for-"
"Penny."
"-three years," I finish firmly. "I appreciate this protective streak, but it's really unnecessary."
"It's fully necessary. You're my fiancée."
"I can take care of myself." I point my chopsticks at him, emphasizing my point. "And speaking of unnecessary-" I lean in, eyes narrowed. "Care to tell me why you paid a visit to Ruben yesterday?"
He freezes, and his jaw tightens. "You've talked to him?"
"He didn't say much. I want to know why you felt you needed to meddle in my private life."