The Bad Boy’s Woman: Hidden Masks Book 2

by Arthurs, Nia

  “I mean, he can’t be that bad.”

  James sent me an inquiring look.

  “He didn’t rat you out after he found you sneaking around his room. That makes him an okay person in my books.”

  “Or a master manipulator with an end-game none of us see coming.” James narrowed his eyes. “Don’t think I forgot the way he flirted with you. The guy’s not innocent.”

  “You share the same blood. Maybe you share the same taste in women.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  I snorted. “It kinda is.”

  “Anyway, Alex promised to stay out of my way. As long as he keeps his word and doesn’t do anything to destroy my family, I’ll pretend he doesn’t exist.”

  “What if it’s not that easy?”

  James glanced away. “It has to be.”

  I thought about what he’d said long after he dropped me home. This problem with Alex was turning into a bigger issue than I’d expected. To be fair, there was no right way to react when a surprise child from a previous relationship suddenly showed up, but there had to be a better way than this.

  The next day, I skipped my lunch with Angie and Harley to seek Alex out ‘downstairs’—the name Harley used to refer to the basement classroom where the school stored its dusty instruments.

  I knocked on the door and cracked it open. “Hello?”

  “Hey?” Alex spun and dusted his hands on his pants. “Monique, what a pleasant surprise.”

  “Can I talk to you?”

  “Of course. Come in.”

  I slid inside and locked the door behind me. Alex leaned against the podium in front of the blackboard. I saw that he had cleaned up.

  Last month, Harley brought me down here when he was practicing with Eric, Baz and Duncan. The place had been covered with dust. Broken instruments and chairs were heaped to one side like a musical bonfire and the posters that managed to survive the harmful effects of time were hanging off the walls.

  Now, fresh posters were up and the musical bonfire had disappeared.

  Lauren said that Alex was a travelling musician, but he’d put in a lot of effort here. Did he want to grow roots in Pine Hill?

  James won’t like that.

  “Have a seat,” Alex said, pointing to a desk and chair.

  I sat.

  Alex clasped his hands together and leaned forward, causing his long hair to fall over his forehead. As I studied him, I tried to see the family resemblance. Alex was tall with brown eyes and an olive skin tone, but those weren’t uncommon traits.

  To me, he looked nothing like James.

  “I know you must have a lot of questions,” he said. “Lauren told me that you and James were asking about my past. I assure you, Monique, I didn’t come here to hurt anyone. I just wanted to know more about my father.”

  His humility took me off-guard. Alex could have roared at me, told me it was none of my business and flipped me off. Instead, he was treating me with respect and sincerity.

  I instantly became suspicious.

  “You expect me to just take your word for it?”

  “Since I was a kid,” Alex slipped his hands into his pockets, “I wanted a father. I always wondered why I didn’t have a dad like the other kids, if something was wrong with me. I thought maybe I’d done something unforgiveable and I was getting punished.”

  In spite of my best intentions, his words tugged at my heartstrings. I could imagine a smaller, pudgy-cheeked Alex tugging on his mother’s skirt and begging for his daddy.

  “Father’s Days, family days, every graduation and birthday, it was just my mom and me. She said my dad was off doing something more important and I wondered what could be more important than our family.”

  “I’m… sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” He smiled. “I didn’t tell you this to rack up sympathy points.”

  “Then why are you sharing with me? It’s not like we’re friends and if you’re interested, I’m sorry but I’m with someone else.”

  He did that smirk again, the one he laid on me when we first met at the club. “I know you’re into James. And I can see that he’s crazy about you.”

  “So what game are you trying to play here?”

  “No games. I just want to know my father. That’s it. I’m not asking for a new family or to be written into the will like James is so afraid of.”

  “This isn’t about the money for him,” I defended. “He wants to protect the people he loves.”

  “So do I. Do you think my mom wanted to tell me about Darius? She was crushed. But the answers I’m searching for have been tearing me apart. I want to put it all on the table, so I can move on and give my mom some peace. And I need your help to do it.”

  “Me?”

  “Convince James to give me a chance.”

  “Why do you need my help with that? Convince him yourself.”

  “He won’t listen to me.” Alex pushed away from the podium and swung into the seat across from mine. “No matter how hard I try to prove myself, there’ll always be a little voice in the back of his head that doubts my intentions.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Think about it,” Alex said. “What could I possibly gain from the Sawyers that could be worth all this trouble?”

  I could think of a lot. Money, status, prestige. The Sawyers were a big deal around this town. Mr. Sawyer didn’t live in a mansion because he was a nice guy. He was a talented businessman with connections everywhere.

  But I couldn’t tell Alex ‘no’ to his face. He was being way too vulnerable and I wasn’t that cruel.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said.

  “That’s all I ask.”

  I stood and strode for the door. When my hand was on the lock, I heard Alex call my name.

  I spun.

  He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Could you do me a favor? Keep this from Lauren? I haven’t told her that I found my biological father yet.”

  “Of course.”

  He dipped his head. “Thank you.”

  I walked out of the basement more confused than before. Alex wasn’t asking for much.

  Should I trust him?

  13

  THE LIES WE IGNORE

  James

  My computer chimed. I glanced at the corner of the screen and saw a little blue icon. It was a message from Marissa. I ignored it and continued to edit the background track I’d been working on this week.

  Marissa had been sending a deluge of texts and instant messages since last week. I’d peeked at a couple of them and they all said the same thing: ‘I miss you’. Given our history, I’d felt sorry for her, but this… this was turning insane.

  Another ping.

  I glanced at the corner. The notification said Marissa had sent me a picture. I let the mouse hover over the pop up and then clicked away. Whatever. I’d have to go back and block her number along with all her social media later.

  Moving back to the music software, I pressed play and listened to the beat pump through my speakers. I rocked my head, already picturing the lyrics I’d match with the song.

  My feelings for Monique were the easiest to write about. I couldn’t control how I felt about her. Stupid, sappy words just flowed from my lips.

  But this song wasn’t for Monique. It was for Mom.

  As much as I enjoyed rock, the most important women in my life responded to softer melodies. I’d never forsake my roots, but I’d learn to weave rock into the background rather than allow the rage to take center stage. It was a vibe that was growing on me.

  My phone vibrated.

  I lowered the music and checked.

  Monique’s smiling face filled the screen.

  I picked up. “Hey, Mo. I was just thinking about you.”

  “Hi.” Her voice was thick and sweet in my ears. “I’m sorry I had to cancel tutoring today. The restaurant my mom works at had a server that got sick and they needed a replacement.”

  “It’s okay.”

  �
��No, it’s not. You have a test this Friday.”

  “Today’s Wednesday,” I pointed out.

  “Today’s basically over. Which means you only have one more day left to study.”

  “You made that sound like a big deal.”

  “You’re welcome.” She chuckled. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet now?”

  I shot up. “Yeah. Of course.”

  “A part-time worker showed up so I’m free to go. Should we meet up at my place?”

  “Your place?”

  “Yeah, my dad will be home, but he won’t bother us. It’ll be easier than waiting for you to drive all the way down here.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there.”

  “Bring your laptop!” Monique reminded.

  “I will.” I hung up and scrambled around my room for a fresh pair of jeans and a clean shirt. I sprayed some cologne and combed my hair. With one last look in the mirror, I deemed myself presentable and headed downstairs.

  Mom was in the kitchen stirring a cup of tea. “You look handsome. What’s the occasion?”

  “Monique just called. I’m meeting her for a study session now.”

  Mom arched an eyebrow. “You look a little too fancy for a mere study session.”

  “I always dress like this.” I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You’re looking much better lately.”

  “I am capable of basic human functions, James. You make me seem far too pathetic. I hope you’re not spreading lies about me to Monique.”

  “What lies? The truth is I have a beautiful, intelligent, competent mother.”

  “You’re full of sweet words, just like your father.”

  I froze.

  Not a compliment, Mom.

  “Ehem,” Mom touched the delicate pearls strung around her neck, “have you heard anything from that man since Saturday?”

  I straightened. Mom hadn’t mentioned Alex once since the showdown last weekend and I was more than happy to pretend it hadn’t happened.

  What was she thinking now?

  “Uh, yeah. He’s a music teacher at my school so…”

  “And where is he staying?”

  “He has a sister by marriage so he’s crashing at her place.”

  “He’s married?”

  “No, they’re not married.” I paused. “It’s complicated. Anyway, he’s at her apartment. It’s the floor above Pandora’s Café. Why?”

  “Just wondering.”

  “Mom…” I narrowed my eyes. “What’s going on?”

  She pushed my arm. “Go on. You’ll be late for your date with Monique.”

  “It’s not a date.”

  “Mm-hm.”

  I shook my head and sprinted to my car.

  On the way to Monique’s apartment, I pondered Mom’s behavior. She’d been unusually happy the past few days. Since Dad was no longer patronizing The Greasy Monkey, I figured that was the cause of her mood shift.

  Was there something more?

  She didn’t want to welcome Alex into our family, did she?

  The thought made me shudder. I still wasn’t sure if I should trust that guy, but I didn’t want Mom to fall for his charm and open her house and heart to him until I made sure he was worthy of it.

  Ten minutes later, I parked in front of Monique’s apartment and headed inside.

  The hallway on her floor had a broken light. I made a mental note to buy a bulb and fix that. Monique said their building manager did very little maintenance. It was dangerous for her to be traipsing around in darkness, even if she was only inches from her place.

  I knocked on the faded green door with the flecking paint and stepped back. A moment later, Monique cracked the door open.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey,” she said.

  I could only see a slice of her dark brown cheek and curly hair. A minute passed as she just stood there, staring at me.

  I chucked. “Will you… open up?”

  “Sure.”

  The door closed fully. I heard locks clicking in the background. Monique’s mom had installed a bunch of locks since the Orlando Goya incident where Monique was punched in the face and her father’s life was threatened.

  At last, she swung the door wide. I raked my gaze over her trim brown legs exposed in a pair of cotton shorts. Her red camisole was loose, loose enough that it sunk to allow for a hint of cleavage to peek out whenever she slightly dipped her shoulders.

  My breath hitched.

  It was a good thing her dad was home or I probably wouldn’t be able to behave.

  I walked past her and slipped my bag off my shoulders. My gaze skimmed the living room with the stained, scuffed sofas and the television on the wall. Faded wallpaper that begged to be replaced gave the apartment some color but, apart from a few picture frames, there wasn’t much to look at.

  “Let’s work around the table,” Monique said.

  I followed her to the kitchen and whistled at the shiny new refrigerator that looked largely out of place amidst the other outdated appliances. “Nice.”

  “My mom would have loved to hear you say that.”

  “Where’s your dad?”

  Monique froze and then casually said, “He’s at a party.”

  “When is he coming back?”

  She avoided my gaze. “Soon.”

  So we’re completely alone?

  My excitement must have shown because she narrowed her eyes and lifted a slender finger. “Don’t even think of trying anything, James Sawyer. We’re here to work. Not play around.”

  I stared her right in the eyes and pressed a kiss to the tip of her finger, gently grazing the underside with my tongue. “We can work hard and then play hard.”

  Monique wrenched her arm back. Her chest heaved and her bottom lip worried the top. My gaze landed there, but I forced it back to her eyes. She obviously wasn’t comfortable with the thought of making out now, so I’d tamp down on my appetite for her and focus.

  I sat around the table and pulled out a chair. “Let’s get to work.”

  Monique gingerly sat beside me and shoved a tangle of curls behind her ear. Only a small section remained there, the rest popped out rebelliously as if daring her to do it again.

  I smiled and pushed it back.

  She stopped mid-sentence. “James.”

  “Sorry. I’m listening.”

  We worked for half-an-hour, but thirty minutes was as far as my restraint went.

  Monique and I were alone.

  With all the craziness of the past few weeks—my music gigs, her part-time job, and a random guy showing up claiming to be my brother—we hadn’t had much time to just be.

  No drama. No worries. Just the two of us.

  Monique caught me staring and tapped her pen against my temple. “Pay attention.”

  “I have been.”

  “You’ve been staring at me like I’m your next meal.”

  “I am pretty hungry.”

  She tapped my forehead again.

  I flinched. “You know that actually hurts.”

  “Your test is in two days. You barely passed the mid-terms.”

  “You’re my tutor.” I teased. “Who’s fault is that?”

  Her mouth dropped. “Excuse me?”

  “How about this?” I leaned forward. “If I get these answers right, you give me a kiss.”

  “Deal. But no cheating.”

  “Of course.”

  Monique slid the worksheet over and raised her chin smugly. “Give it your best shot.”

  I ignored her taunting and focused on the worksheet. Fifteen minutes flew by. When I was satisfied with the answers, I handed the sheet over and waited for her to correct it.

  Her expression changed from confident to shaken to completely surprised. She raised her head and pinned me with a look. “Did you have a cheat sheet?”

  I lifted my hand. “I swear I’m clean.”

  “Let me check.” Monique bounced out of her chair and walked over to me. She grabbed my hand and raised it hi
gh, even pulling back my shirt to check under my pits.

  “Why would it be in there?”

  “You never know!”

  She was so close.

  I reached over and kissed her shoulder.

  Monique’s brown eyes shot to me. “James.”

  “What?”

  She moved away. “It looks like you were telling the truth.”

  “Uh-uh.” I stood and grabbed her hand. “Pay up.”

  Before she could utter another word, I drew her up by her waist and kissed her. Just the touch of her lips set off an explosion inside me. I grabbed her waist and flipped her up on the table, ignoring the books that silently judged us from the surface.

  She wrapped her arms around my neck, meeting me, pulling me closer. I breathed her in. Ran my lips over the expanse of her neck to just above her collarbone. Her pulse skittered against my mouth.

  “James…”

  I cancelled whatever she was going to say with another kiss.

  She kissed me back. Exchanging my breath for hers.

  My heart threatened to burst.

  Closer. I needed her closer.

  The table was too short for kissing and craning my neck to accommodate for the height difference was starting to strain. I lifted Monique and, without disengaging our lips, carried her to the sofa.

  She landed in the chair with a slight bounce.

  I climbed on top of her.

  A familiar frenzy washed over me. But this wasn’t just hooking up with a random girl in the back of a broom closet.

  This was Monique.

  My beautiful, precious Monique.

  “James, my parents could come home.” She moaned. Pushed at my chest. Her hair had expanded and frizzed around her head. Her plump lips slightly parted as she struggled to catch her breath.

  “Come on,” I coaxed, nibbling her ear.

  She was so desirable in that moment that it took concerted effort to fumble around my wallet for the condoms I kept there. Just in case. After the scare with Marissa, I didn’t want to take any chances.

  “James, stop.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve got protection.” I kissed her again, slipping my fingers beneath her shirt. I felt her shudder against me. Her skin was smooth. Dark.

  “No…” she mumbled.

  I could barely hear her over the roaring of my own blood rushing in my ears, in my heart, beneath my pants. My lips found their way to her neck while my other hand untied the laces holding up her shorts.