Daddy always looked weird without his beard.
Why was I thinking about my parents? Why was I here? My heart beat faster as the lights above spun around me. I wanted to cry . . . but I was over that phase of my life. I was done crying, Marriott. I was here now. I’d gotten into Lola’s life, slept with Corey . . . but was it enough? Was it really worth it?
A woman laughed, and I looked over, watching as she threw back her head and pressed a hand to her chest. Pearl earrings in her ears and a pearl necklace on her neck.
They had no worries. No problems.
Everyone was so self-absorbed. Bragging about their million-dollar homes, Ferraris, and Porsches.
Trips to Cambodia, Egypt, and Croatia.
Money, money, money.
It was too much, Marriott. So many unappreciative people in one room—trust-fund kids or people who’d embezzled all they had and somehow never got caught.
I needed to get out. I needed to get these thoughts out of my head.
I turned to go back out, but before I could, Lola was walking up to me. Faith and Arabel were with her, and Corey was trailing behind her.
“Tonight has been so amazing!” Lola sang. Then she took my hands and dragged me to the dance floor. “Dance with me, Ivy! We deserve this!”
But I didn’t want to dance with her. She made me, though, and I couldn’t reject her in front of everyone, so I twirled with her and let the bass of the music run up the soles of my heels, but I didn’t put much effort into it.
Corey came to the floor to cut in and dance with Lola, but she turned her back on him, preferring to dance alone. I frowned at Corey, and he frowned as Eddie met up with Lola, doing some goofy dance move that made her giggle along the way.
She started dancing with him. Not touching, but their eyes were connected.
Corey was pissed now. He stepped between them, and I saw him mouth the words, I’ve had enough of this shit!
“What are you talking about?” Lola said, shocked by his outburst.
“You don’t have to do this shit in my face, Lola!”
Eddie looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t move.
Lola lightly moved Corey aside, but only after placing a kiss on his cheek and telling him to calm down, that they were only having a good time and it was all business. Then she looked up at Eddie and said, “Sorry about that.” And she walked off with him, arm in arm, not once looking back.
I was stunned. Fucking stunned. Just like that, she’d chosen Eddie over Corey. In his face. In everyone’s face. Samira was there. She was just as stunned as I was. She saw it all, but pretended not to, instead turning to her fiancé when he came up to her with a fresh drink and a tense smile.
Livid, Corey stormed off the dance floor and out of the room. His elbow bumped into Noah’s arm, and Noah spilled some of his drink on the floor.
I needed this distraction. I left the dance floor.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” Noah asked as I walked by. He was clearly upset by the spilled drink.
“No idea. We should probably go check,” I said, and hoped Noah would decline.
“No, girl. That’s okay. I think I’m going to cling to my positive attitude and stay right in here.” He walked away to talk to Faith and Arabel and their husbands by one of the poker tables.
I left the ballroom. Corey wasn’t in the hall or the lobby, so I checked outside.
He was standing on the sidewalk, talking on his phone. “See you in a minute.” Corey lowered the phone.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.” His voice was cold and standoffish.
“I’ll come with you.”
“For fucking what, Ivy? I don’t need you to come with me. Stop being so goddamn desperate.”
I blinked quickly. “What did you just say to me?”
“I said you’re being desperate. Stop following me around.” He took a step away from me.
“Stop trying to shut me out, Corey. You’re upset and I get that, but I’m here for you.”
He narrowed his eyes. He was about to say something, but a car pulled up to the curb. The driver climbed out and went around to open the back door.
Corey gave me his back and climbed into the black car. The driver looked at me, confused about whether I was included in the ride or not. I put my focus on Corey again.
“Just come on, Ivy,” Corey finally muttered, and my heart raced. I got in the car. The black leather was warm and it smelled like roses.
We rode in silence back to the Mandarin, and once we were out of the car, Corey tipped the driver and we went inside, where the heat was blowing and classical music serenaded from hidden speakers.
Corey didn’t say a word to me as we rode up the elevator. He stopped on my floor and walked out first. I opened my clutch, taking out my room key card and swiping it through the lock on the door.
I walked in and put down my phone and clutch.
Corey went to the minibar and poured himself a drink. Scotch. I should have known.
Is it bad that I was really starting to reconsider this affair with him? I didn’t realize Corey was so . . . emotional. It was obvious Lola didn’t love him all that much—that she had fallen out of love with him years ago—so why was he clinging to her like some lost puppy? Why hadn’t he fallen out of love too and tried to move on?
He could be with me, right, Marriott? Leave her, take me, and be happy? I knew I could make him happy. I had it in me. I was good at putting smiles on people’s faces, even if I had to fake it a little bit. I hated working retail, but I was good at faking that.
Corey sipped his drink and looked at me through the corner of his eye. “Come here,” he commanded.
And I did. I walked to him.
He put down his glass behind him before lifting one of his hands to grip a handful of my hair. It ripped at the root and I hissed at the sting of it.
“What are you doing?” I asked, and my heart beat harder because this felt familiar to me . . . and not in a good way.
Corey pushed me forward with his body until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed and I fell down. Then he climbed on top of me and locked a hand around my throat.
“I want you to pretend to be Lola tonight.”
“What?” I croaked. He was out of his damn mind. The last thing I wanted to be was Lola.
“Shut up,” he snarled, and he gripped my throat tighter. “I’m so sick of your shit. Flirting with that motherfucker, Eddie. Doing it in my face. Dancing with him. How is his dick, huh?”
I tried to swallow. He squeezed. “Okay—Corey, no, I don’t like this. I don’t want to be Lola.” I tried to sit up, but he forced me back down with a heavy hand.
I panicked, then, and his eyes widened. He lowered his face. “How is his dick, huh? I know it’s not bigger than mine. And you want to know how I know?” He was pushing up my dress as he asked, and one of his hands forced my legs apart. He moved my panties aside with rough fingers.
“Corey.” My voice broke.
“Just shut up.” He was working on unfastening the button of his pants. Unzipping them. His dick was hard and free. I tried to sit up again. Another hand came down on my chest, forcing me back on the bed.
“Stop this,” I demanded, but my voice came out weaker than intended. “I’m done with this game.”
“Who said it was a game, Ivy? Give me whatever I want. Please me whenever I want. You said you would do it.” He bent over me and propelled his hips forward to thrust himself inside me. A sharp breath broke out of me. “So, do it, Ivy. Be Lola. Give me what I want.”
Fuck him. I wasn’t Lola. He was out of his fucking mind, and I was about to shove him off me and tell him to get the fuck out until he said something I didn’t quite expect.
“I know what you’re after,” he growled in my ear, and my blood ran cold. “You want my money. You want her life. Well, you want it so bad,” he rumbled on my neck, “this is how you get it. No one said having me would be easy, babe.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The gala was over.
That high I’d had as I was getting ready for the night and as I’d fucked Corey in the supply closet? It was gone. Dust.
I hated him . . . well, I felt like I did the day after. My emotions were all over the place. I felt betrayed.
Corey reminded me of bad things that night. Reminded me of Xavier. Too handsy. Too aggressive. Too mean. He’d taken advantage of me, just like Xavier always had. He was drunk, yes, but he knew what he’d said to me. He remembered because after he finished, he left my room and didn’t show his face the next morning for breakfast.
I hated that I had to see him on the jet back to Florida, but it was much easier for me to keep a distance and look away. There was also tension between him and Lola. Noah and Olivia sensed it and pretended to sleep in their seats. I sat in my seat, staring out the window, tormented by his reckless behavior.
You don’t get it, Marriott. Corey was supposed to be a gentleman. He was supposed to be different, but he’d made me look at him a different way the night of the gala. My perfect night in my perfect dress was ruined because of his reckless, selfish actions. God, I was so sick of everyone being so damn selfish.
I purposely stayed away from Corey and Lola when we got back to Miami. I was grateful Lola was giving us the week off with pay to recover from the success of the gala.
I mean, who was I kidding? I’d said once before that all men were pigs, and I was right. I didn’t take Corey as the kind of man who choked women and then forced them to have sex with him.
Now I could see why Lola didn’t fuck him as often as he wanted—why she’d walked off with Eddie that night. Corey must have done this to her too.
Corey was an asshole who thought the world revolved around his dick. He needed to get himself under control . . . but I needed to work on forgiving him eventually because he was right about one thing. I did want his money and I did want a life like Lola’s.
I knew that without him, I wasn’t going to get any of it, and I’d worked so damn hard. I needed this. I deserved it. I’m not saying money was going to take care of all my problems, but it would be a start.
Forgiveness is such bullshit, though, Marriott.
The one who forgives first never really wins.
* * *
I was used to Lola sending me messages and asking me to meet her, but the text I received from her four days into my week-long break didn’t settle well with me.
WE NEED TO TALK. COME TO MY PLACE AT 6.
I wasn’t sure what to expect, but something in my gut told me she knew about me and Corey. Had he told her about us? Did someone see us in the hallway? See me get in the car with him?
There were so many ways this could go, but for all I knew, she could just want to talk to me about the gala or Eddie since I saw the whole thing happen.
It wasn’t like Lola to demand me to come to her, though. She always asked if I had plans, to which I’d respond that I didn’t, and then she’d rope me in and tell me to meet her somewhere, along with a little incentive, like sharing a bottle of wine or going shopping for new shoes.
It was best to get it over with.
I drove to her house in a somber mood and parked in front of the mansion. The door wasn’t answered by Georgia this time, though. It was Corey.
I took a step back when I saw him. I wasn’t ready to forgive him yet.
“Ivy,” he murmured, and his chocolate-brown eyes twinkled like he had actually been longing to see me. He started to form a smile, but when he realized I wasn’t pleased to see him, he sighed, then looked over his shoulder.
Realizing the coast was clear, he took a step close to me and said, “Look, Ivy. I’m sorry about what happened the night of the gala. I’d had too much to drink and I was really, really upset with Lola. I’m sorry.”
“You choked me,” I spat at him. “Do you do that to Lola too when you can’t have your way?”
“No—I just let my emotions get the better of me.” He lifted a hand to stroke the apple of my cheek. “Don’t let this change what we have. I’ve been thinking, you know. About you and me. You were right about how I need to make changes. Lola isn’t going to leave Eddie alone—I know that now after the gala—so I’m working on being separated from her.”
“Why not just get a divorce?”
“It’s . . . complicated. I have to go about it the right way. We’ve been married a long time and it would cost a lot of money. I’d have to negotiate so I don’t lose too much in the process.”
“Sure, okay. I don’t have time for your excuses.” I rolled my eyes and pushed past him to get inside the house.
Corey caught my hand. “Wait—Ivy, I—”
“Ivy, you’re here!” Lola said from down the hall, and Corey quickly released my hand from his and stuffed it in his front pocket.
I focused on her as she stood there, waving and giving me a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Something was off with her today. She was made up as always, wearing a teal blouse, jeans, and sandals.
Corey closed the door with his foot, side-eyeing me as he walked past. I watched him go past Lola, who peered over her shoulder to watch him saunter off. There was still tension between them, I could see.
“You wanted to see me today?” I asked, stepping closer to Lola.
“I did. Let’s go out by the pool.”
She clearly didn’t see Corey grab my hand; otherwise she’d have spoken up about it, right?
I followed her through the kitchen and met her by the lounge chairs under the pool umbrellas. It was fall in Florida—still warm outside, but not deathly hot like it is over the summer.
Lola sat down, and on the table was a bottle of red wine and two glasses. I took the seat across from her, forcing a smile at her as she poured the wine into the glasses. She didn’t smile back.
She handed one of the glasses to me and I took it, nodding appreciatively. She sipped hers and I did the same.
“So, you’re probably wondering why I asked you to come over.” She gulped down more wine. “Well, there is no easy way to have this conversation, but I, um . . . I spoke to Georgia a few days ago.”
Georgia? Oh fuck. So she did tell Lola about me and Corey? That bitch! “Okay. What’s going on?”
“Well, she seems to think that . . . well, that you’re relevant to something that occurred in my past.”
I put down my glass on the table. This wasn’t what I thought I’d be hearing.
“Your name isn’t Ivy Elliot, is it?” Lola questioned, and my heart slammed to a standstill.
I tried to move my mouth, but it remained glued shut.
“You don’t have to answer that. I know you aren’t.” Lola sighed. She crossed her legs and looked toward the bay.
“Lola, I don’t know what Georgia told you, but—”
“She didn’t have to tell me much. She thought that perhaps she was overthinking things, so she let it go. But when she told me that she’d seen you snooping around in my office, I hired a private investigator to get answers for me, had him look into you.”
I swallowed hard, unable to pull my eyes away from hers. She knew. She fucking knew. It was happening now.
“Your name is Ivy Hill. Your parents were Dante and Carol Hill. They died on April 13, 2007, in a car wreck. They died because of me.” Lola’s eyes were full of tears at this point and fuck, Marriott, I didn’t know what to do. All I could manage was a blink to battle my own tears.
This wasn’t the way I thought the conversation would go. Why did it feel like she had the upper hand? Like she was going to make me feel guilty when, really, she should have been the one lost, scared, and nervous as hell? I was supposed to be the one to shove this news in her face. I was supposed to be the one who won, got Corey, took half her money through him, and then told her that she was a selfish bitch afterward.
“Lola, I—”
“Why didn’t you tell me, Ivy?” she asked, and her voice broke, as if she were real
ly hurt. And maybe she was. She trusted me. Liked me. Told me things. “All this time you knew so much about me, pretended to be my friend, and you were their daughter.”
I bit into my bottom lip until I tasted blood. “You have no right to be upset with me for lying,” I said in an even tone. “Yes, my name is Ivy Hill. Yes, I found you and pretended to be your friend, but that’s only because you ruined my fucking life! I loved my parents. They were all I had, and you took them away from me. It wasn’t proven, but I know you made the detective on that case keep your name out of the files just so you could protect your own name! You made it virtually impossible for me to find you, let alone get answers about that night! You would have let me live my entire life lost and confused!”
Lola was flabbergasted. Her eyes stretched wide and she stood up and I couldn’t believe it, but she dumped her wine in my face. I let out a sharp gasp, standing with her in complete shock.
“You don’t know the whole story, you little bitch!” she hissed at me. “You don’t know what the fuck happened that day, so don’t you stand there and accuse me of ruining your life! I didn’t even know the fucking Hills had a daughter until now!”
“No?” I shouted as wine ran over my lips. “Well, what happened that night, then, Lola? Please enlighten me, you fucking liar!”
Lola’s bottom lip trembled as she stared me in the eye. She slammed down her wineglass on the table and I was surprised it didn’t shatter.
“Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll tell you. I was in St. Petersburg visiting my gynecologist,” she said, looking me hard in the eye. She sat back down and I hesitated before doing the same, but I did anyway, only because I needed to hear everything she had to say. “I was nine weeks pregnant at the time. Happy as could be. But on that day I felt like something was wrong. I was getting cramps, feeling ill. I needed to be checked. My doctor couldn’t squeeze me in until the afternoon, and it took me about three hours to drive there, so I drove alone. Three hours is far, yes, but this was the best doctor in the state. I was willing to make the drives. I didn’t tell Corey about the pain I was having, I just went, but I knew what was happening because it had happened to me before.” She drew in a sharp breath. “By the time I got to St. Petersburg it had started to storm, but I needed to get to the clinic as soon as possible. The pain had become even more intense by this point and I was crying. I was—I was driving so fast. Racing through the rain. My GPS told me to take a back road to get to the clinic faster, so I did, but it was a shadowy road, and with the sky so dark from the storm and all those trees, I could hardly see. My phone started ringing and I tried to reach for it, but it fell through the crack on the side of the passenger seat. I was reaching for it while also trying to hold back tears and drive. God, I was in so much pain that I couldn’t even see straight. Then, before I knew it, I saw a car in front of me pull out of nowhere. I ran into the back edge of the car, and because the roads were slick, the car did a tailspin and slammed into a tree. I was lucky enough to slam on my brakes and stop with minimal damage to myself, but the crash was so loud. I knew someone was going to be hurt. I got out and saw the front of my car was completely wrecked, but it was nothing in comparison to the car that had hit the tree.”
The Perfect Ruin Page 21