“We’re not even gone, and I’m missing this view . . .”
Liam stepped up behind me, wrapping me in a hug. “I know what you mean. But we’ll be back, okay?”
I nodded. I wanted to make him promise but didn’t want to seem needy.
“Ready?” He swept my loose hair aside, kissing my neck. His merest touch produced shivers—nothing visible, but earth-shattering all the same. I felt him deep inside like a quake, rupturing the negativity of Blaine’s reign. One of these days, I secretly hoped Liam would be the man who once and for all shattered what remained of my husband’s dark hold. From there, maybe I’d stick around with Liam, maybe I wouldn’t. Regardless, I’d finally once again be my own woman. No longer afraid of the dark, but, as Willow would say, making it my bitch.
Funny how when gazing out at the crashing Pacific, I’d felt as if nothing could keep me down. Just over two hours later, I might be dressed in a breezy linen outfit and huarache leather flats, but every other woman in Liam’s corporate empire was either polished to the point of wearing a Chanel suit or casually hot as fuck. Regardless, hair, makeup and nails were on point.
“Relax.” Liam took my hand during our stroll through an atrium so tall that a forest of palms fit comfortably around a babbling brook. Cozy seating areas housed all sorts of busy people looking over tablets and smart phones and engaging in spirited debates over nanotechnology and glasses that projected onscreen imagery. I wasn’t just out of my league in this setting, but out of the solar system.
These were educated, attractive, talented people. Who was I? A runaway battered bride from Tennessee. No one gave a crap about me—including me.
“Hey, Liam . . .” A short, ginger guy held up his hand for a high-five. He walked with five other young, hip employees.
Liam slapped him five, then shook the man’s hand, as well as his friends’. “Curtis. Long time, no see. How’s the fishing game going?”
“Tight. Like it sounds so lame, but in a good way, you know. The interface is slamming.”
A twenty-something bearded guy chimed in. “You’ve gotta try it, Liam. It’s so much fun—especially with the 3-D goggles.”
“So I’ve heard,” Liam said. “I’ve got a meeting now, but I’ll head your way right after.”
“Cool, man.” They all did the whole manly-man back-slap routine before going their separate ways.
Every five feet, Liam was stopped by someone, and every time, he not only knew their name, but what projects they were working on and their stages of completion. The man’s mind was a freak of nature. The more people I saw admire him, the more my own admiration grew. In the same breath, so did my insecurities. Why had he chosen me? What about me was special?
Aside from my fear of everything, I offered no special skills.
He’d hired me to be his whore, and I couldn’t even have sex.
Tears stung my eyes. The more people stared, no doubt wondering who I was and why Liam held my hand, the more I wanted to go back into hiding. Manning my Wal-Mart snack bar had been simple. No one expected anything more from me than to serve hot dogs and ICEEs. Now, I had no defined role. Adrift in Liam’s business world, I was lost. Couldn’t we go back to the beach?
He led me onto a crowded elevator that had clouds painted on the ceiling. I stared so hard at that make-believe sky, willing myself back to the stretch of shore where I’d last felt safe.
“Liam—you catch the 49ers on Sunday?”
“Yeah, yeah . . .” Liam took his wallet from his suit coat pocket, found a twenty and handed it to the guy. “Next year we’re gonna beat the crap out of your Saints.”
“Keep dreaming!” the guy shouted on his way out of the elevator and onto his floor.
Up, up, up we went until the doors opened on another gasp-worthy atrium—only, this one was on top of the world. Palm trees framed a waterfall and koi-filled pool. Sun shone on all the busy people going about their jobs.
Ella the Homecoming Queen, the Honor Student, the girl who’d always followed the rules, felt compelled to be part of this productivity.
Julie, the dead girl, wanted to hide in a corner—preferably, a well-lit corner.
“Here’s my stop.” Liam paused in front of towering conference room doors. They would have been imposing, save for the inset panels filled with hundreds of tiny jellyfish. How they stayed alive in there I’d never know, but if Liam’s money had bought him his own personal elevator to the beach, I didn’t figure jellyfish-filled doors were that much of a stretch. “But see that nice lady over there?” He pointed to a stacked blonde who sat at a desk that from the front looked like a shipwrecked, sun-faded skiff turned onto its side. A massive shark bite loomed near the bow. “The one in front of my genuine shark-attack boat I had flown in from South Africa— can you believe the guy riding in this thing lived? Anyway, head over to her. She’s my personal assistant, Carol.”
“I-I don’t want to just barge in on her. She looks busy.”
He kissed my forehead. “She’s expecting you. For the rest of the day, making you comfortable is her primary objective. Oh—and here . . .” He once again took out his wallet, this time to remove one of the credit cards I’d last seen on my coffee table. He gave it to me. “In case you want to go shopping—not that I’m saying you need to.” He kissed my forehead again, making me all hot and confused. He flashed his slow, sexy crooked grin, and I forgot to breathe. “As far as I’m concerned, your birthday suit works fine for me.” When he winked, that naughty lock of hair fell over his left eye and I was lost. He had me. Just like everyone else in this building, he fucking had me, and I hated that he held that power but in the same heartbeat I craved more. “You going to be okay?” I nodded.
“Why so pouty?”
“I don’t pout.”
“Whatever you say.” He kissed my forehead again. I wanted his lips on mine. I wanted everyone in this amazing, spectacular, circus freak show of an office to know I belonged to him. But I didn’t. Moreover, my contract was only for twenty-nine more days, whereas the rest of the people staring at us probably had him for a year or longer. “Get going, or I’ll be late for my meeting.”
“Sure. Bye.”
When he was gone, I felt bereft, which didn’t make sense.
During the endless walk to my appointed handler, my vision tunneled. I didn’t want to see any of these happy people—moreover, I didn’t want them seeing me. My outfit was nice enough, but it didn’t quite fit. My hair was clean, but not styled in any way—barely even brushed. My jagged nails looked as if I’d spent the past year clawing my way out of a prison. Little did they know I had. None of them knew what I’d been through. How hard I’d fought for the ground where I now stood.
I approached the boat desk.
Liam’s assistant stood, blasting me with her ultra-white smile. “You must be Ella. I’ve been expecting you.”
“Hi,” I said with a shy wave, unsure what to do with my hands.
“Look at you.” Hands on her hips, she took a step back to appraise me. “With your bone structure you could be a model.”
“Thanks.” In another lifetime, Mom had taken me to one of those modeling-agency cattle calls at The Peabody in Memphis. The agent we’d seen told me I was too short for the runway, but could maybe have a shot at petites. If I couldn’t model in Milan, Mom had decided that a perfectly acceptable second career choice would be as a trophy wife. But yeah, that hadn’t worked out so well.
“Let me finish this email and we’ll get going. I’m sure you’re exhausted from your trip.” How much did she know?
“Oh—and before I forget, if you don’t mind, let’s pop over to legal to get you official.”
Was that her polite way of informing me she knew it all? The fact that her boss was paying me to be with him? Mortification didn’t begin covering my shame. Yet apparently that shame wasn’t enough to make me bolt. At first, I’d been in this solely for the money, but our night on the beach had changed everything. Liam had been kind and
thoughtful and considerate of my every need—right down to being the stronger of the two of us by making me sleep alone. I’d dearly wanted him in my bed, but it would have been a mistake. He was the more mature of us to have known.
“Ella? Legal?” I’d zoned out, and Carol waved.
“Right. Sorry.”
Like a dutiful quasi-employee, I trailed after her, envying her black Louboutins and hiphugging black pencil skirt. Her top was a blousy, silky ultra-feminine swirl of peach, pink and orange sherbet. Her flawless French twist matched the rest of her perfection. I hated her. I used to be her. I never thought I’d want a return trip to the life when I’d spent my days consumed with my appearance, because that was what Blaine had told me to do. But maybe this time it would be different? I wouldn’t be dressing for Blaine, but for myself. At least that’s what I told myself. The truth was, this time, I’d be transforming for Liam—to fit into his world and to better fit the image I assumed he wanted me to portray. What did that say about me? Had I really recovered at all? Had I actually not evolved, but merely become a wannabe better-dressed dead girl in a designer coffin?
I followed Carol and her faint cloud of no-doubt pricey rose perfume.
Outside a closed office door in what was a less flashy, more traditional business setting, she knocked, then cracked open the door. “Garrett? Is this a good time for you to visit with Ms. Patton?”
“Of course, send her in.”
Carol flattened herself against the door, motioning me inside.
Garrett rose from behind an imposing modern desk. The office was all blond wood, chrome and glass. An informal, living room–style seating area with a fawn-toned leather sofa and armchairs was where he indicated I should go. He brought a manila file.
To Carol he said, “This shouldn’t take but a few minutes. Would you mind waiting outside?”
“Of course.”
My palms dampened, and I was pretty sure I’d need a bathroom in the next few minutes. This imposing man scared the bejeezus out of me. I’d seen him for only a short while at the airport, and that had been enough.
“It’s nice visiting with you again.” He took the chair opposite mine. “Hope you and Liam enjoyed your night at the beach. That house is really something, isn’t it?” I nodded.
He slapped the folder to his thighs. “I assume you and Liam have already discussed the terms of your agreement. If you agree, I’ll need your signature in three spots, and then you and Carol can be on your way—doing whatever it is you girls like to do.” His stiff smile turned my stomach. How could Liam be friends with this piece of cardboard? But then I remembered that Garrett was a lawyer. How many had I met over the course of my marriage? Not one had even considered the fact that when it had come to my abuse, I’d told the truth.
He held out a pen, then opened the folder onto itself to form a somewhat stable surface. “Sign here . . .”
I should have read the papers. Even I wasn’t stupid enough to blindly sign copies of a document that could have said virtually anything, but how could I read when my eyes were so full of tears that I couldn’t see? The truth was, I didn’t care what the contract said. All that mattered was once again being alone with Liam on the beach. Everything had been perfect there. Beyond sublime. If the contract bought me even one more day of that perfection, I’d gladly sign.
“And here . . .”
My hand shook as I wrote my legal name, Ella Patton. I hadn’t even considered the ramifications of once again having my legal name show up in any data systems. “Will this be confidential? Like, no one besides you and Liam will see this, right?”
“That’s correct.” His eyes narrowed. “Is there something you’d like to tell me? I’m bound by client-attorney privilege.”
“You’re Liam’s counsel—not mine.”
Garrett smiled. “You’re smarter than you look.”
“Screw you.”
“Hmm . . . She has a tight ass and a forked tongue. Most of Liam’s girls are more docile. Eager to get a jump start on spending his money.”
“Can we cut the chitchat and wrap this up?” I tapped my right foot, hoping the release of nervous energy would keep me from smacking his smirk.
“Certainly. You must be eager to get started—especially considering the cash signing bonus Liam had me toss in.”
“What bonus?” Now, my eyes narrowed.
“Gotta admit, your innocence act is one helluva turn-on, but you don’t fool me for a minute. Sign here, little girl, and I’ll get your candy.” I signed. At this point, I just wanted out.
Garrett closed the file. “Would you like a copy?”
“No, thank you.” I clasped my hands so tight against my knees that I’d probably have bruises.
“I highly advise you take a copy.”
“I said, no thank you.”
He shrugged. “Whatever you say. On your behalf, I’ll keep one on file. If you ever want a look-see, all you have to do is ask.” On his feet, he tossed the file to his desk, then, from a scene straight out of a movie, he grasped a modern painting that to my untrained eyes looked like nothing more than angry slashes of red, orange and yellow at the corner of its frame, then opened it sideways. Like a cabinet, it was hinged. Behind it was a wall safe. Garrett worked the combination, withdrew a banded pile of cash, then tossed it to me. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”
I caught it. The label read: $10,000.
My first thought was, Holy shit! My second thought was, Is that all I’m worth?
Wishing my frantic pulse would steady, I asked, “Does Liam know how rude you are to his employees?”
Garrett’s smile chilled me to my core. “Honey, do you even have a clue who your new boss is? What he’s capable of? Do you honestly think a man his age gets to be a billionaire by being a nice guy?”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Exactly. Have a nice shopping spree. Get in a few good fucks, then know you’re as disposable as a red Solo cup.”
Trailing Carol back through the legal office maze, I clutched my money, wishing for a purse, pockets, anyplace to stash this tangible source of shame. How many girls like me had there been? How many more would there be? What kinds of secrets was Liam hiding, and did I even want to know?
We arrived at an elevator bank, and thankfully, Carol and I were the only ones around.
“Was Garrett a total douchebag?”
Her statement caught me so off guard I couldn’t help but laugh.
“It’s okay, you can be honest with me. Five years ago, I used to be you. I worked the drive-thru at Liam’s favorite Arby’s—poor guy still has a thing for junk food. Anyway, every day for like a month, he ordered a Big Montana, curly fries and a large Jamocha shake. Finally, he doesn’t ask me out, but hands me his business card. Tells me that if I want to get out of there, to call his lawyer. I figured what the hell, so I called. Garrett shoved a bunch of nondisclosure forms in my face, basically treated me like your garden-variety streetwalker, then set me up in a corporate-owned penthouse.” The elevator arrived with a ding. We got on, and the car was as empty as the hall. She leaned against the mirrored wall, closed her eyes and sighed. “After a couple of weeks of the best sex of my life, and shopping damn near as much as breathing, Liam went overseas and that was that. Next thing I knew, Garrett was sending me packing from my penthouse, but said Liam saw potential in me, and was offering a full ride to the university of my choice. I took him up on it and never looked back.”
We exited the building to enter a parking garage.
Carol hit a keyless remote and the taillights of a Lexus lit up. “Liam also bought me this for my graduation.”
“Nice . . .” What did she expect me to say? I felt awkward enough about my situation. Her constant bragging didn’t help. I had so many questions. How many more women like us were there? Did he only take on charity cases? What was the longest he’d ever been with a woman? Did I have a prayer of being the one girl in ten or twenty or a hundred who not only capture
d his attention, but held it?
I climbed in alongside Carol, fastening my seat belt and already dreading the ride.
I’d signed up for this gig to be with Liam—not his ex–call girl.
While Carol got us onto the main road, something occurred to me. The only reason I’d agreed to any of this was because of the free plane ticket. Liam had nothing to do with it—at least he shouldn’t, if I stayed true to myself. But if I closed my eyes and thought about our night on the beach, and how sweetly he’d tucked me into bed, I lost sight of everything I was until all I could remember was him. His emerald eyes and crooked smile that made me stupid.
“You don’t have to answer, but how much is he paying you?”
I closed my eyes. This wasn’t happening. The Liam who’d run me a hot bath, who’d given me his warm shirt and the last of the cheesecake, wouldn’t be so cruel as to equate affection with financial compensation. But he would. It would serve me well to remember Garrett’s warning. Honey, do you even have a clue who your new boss is? What he’s capable of?
Do you honestly think a man his age gets to be a billionaire by being a nice guy?
“That’s cool.” Carol kept her focus on navigating the narrow freeway on-ramp. “I get it— your wanting to pretend this is all just some romantic rendezvous. I don’t blame you. Liam’s a catch, but for your own protection”—she patted her chest—”you have to know catching him would be like holding on to the wind.”
“I get it. You don’t have to keep reminding me.”
“Sorry. I’m not trying to be cruel. You’re the sixth employee I’ve escorted this year, and the ones who know up front what to expect from this deal make it out in great shape. A good time is had by all, and they end up with a car and nice little nest egg.”
Lost (Bad Boys with Billions Book 1) Page 12