Betrayal

by Ember Dante

  She ushered me into her office and locked the door before leading me to a red velvet settee on the opposite side of the room. I placed my camera bag at my feet and reclined against the back of the chair. Blaire was big on theatrics and building suspense, which was undoubtedly why she chose to sit there rather than behind her desk. I knew it was intended as a more casual yet still intimate setting for whatever she wanted to talk about—the same tricks my father would use to gain my compliance.

  “How does your schedule look for the next few weeks?” She sipped her martini and set the glass on the square, black and gold granite cocktail table.

  “Pretty busy, actually. I have several out-of-town jobs coming up.” I leaned forward and placed my beer on the table. “In fact, I think it may be best if you found someone else. I’m just not sure how much time I’ll have. I can give you a list of suitable replacements, people I’d trust to work with your clients.”

  Her forehead creased as her eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to work with anyone else. I like you. My clients like you.”

  “I’m sorry, Blaire. I just can’t continue like this. Being here is taking up too much of my time.”

  She inched closer and leaned into me. “What if we sweeten the deal a bit?” Her hand brushed the hair from my forehead. “I think we’ve mastered working together. Maybe it’s time we add some fringe benefits to the mix.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not a good idea, and you know it. Besides, we’ve already had this conversation.” I arched a brow. “Remember?”

  “I saw the way you looked at me earlier.” She pushed me backward and moved to my lap, her knees on either side of my hips. “I could tell that you wanted to fuck me. You thought about it, didn’t you?” Her fingers traced from my temple to jaw, down my throat, and finally rested on my shoulders. “How you’d like to fuck me in this very outfit.” She lowered her mouth to my ear, her breath hot against my face. “Peel off these shorts, bend me over, and take me—hard and fast.”

  My hands wrapped around her biceps and pushed her away as I stood. “That’s enough, Blaire. I thought I made myself clear. I’m not interested.”

  “C’mon, Ian, a little no-strings sex could be fun. Consider it an itch we both need to scratch.”

  I reached for my bag. “I said no, and I meant it. I’m outta here. I’ll email you a list of photographers you can contact about taking my place.”

  “Tsk, tsk.” She plucked the skewer from her glass and slid an olive between her lips. “I had really hoped you’d agree. As it is, you’ve left me with no choice.”

  “No choice for what?” I dropped a hand to my hip.

  She gave me a sinister smile and stood before me. “How is Mason these days?”

  “What?” My brows knit. “That’s a random fucking question.”

  “I imagine he’d be upset to learn you lied to him about that little accident a few years ago,” she sighed. “Then again, I’m sure that wouldn’t be the only ramification if the truth were to find its way into the public domain.”

  The breath left my lungs in a rush, but I tried to remain calm. “What are you talking about?”

  “Now, Ian. I know all about it—the party, the wreck—you taking the blame when it was really Mason driving.” Her lips twisted into a cruel smirk as her eyes blazed with malice. “That was the night that ended your baseball career, wasn’t it? I understand that was quite a beating Jason gave you.”

  I stepped closer and grabbed her arm, squeezing hard enough to bruise. “Where the fuck did you hear that?”

  “Oh, I struck a nerve, didn’t I?” She chuckled and shrugged from my grasp. “I tell you what. Since you’ve been providing such a valuable service for my clients, I’m going to give you another chance—a choice. Option one, you keep working for me, as often as I need you here. Our present monetary arrangement will stand.” She crossed her arms. “Option two, I’ll find another photographer—with your assistance—and in exchange for my silence, we’ll enter into another contract. An exclusive, sexual contract. You will fuck me, and only me, whenever, wherever, and however I wish, until I get bored. Based on what I remember from that New Year’s party, I don’t imagine I’ll get bored for quite a while. We can start right now, in fact.”

  “You are fucking insane.”

  “No, I just know what I want. If I can’t have what I want, then I’ll take the next-best thing: you, working for me. Those are the only two options you have to guarantee that skeleton remains buried in your closet.”

  “Option three: I tell you to fuck off, and I walk out that door. I don’t know where you’ve gotten your so-called information, but you don’t scare me.”

  “Oh, my intel is reliable.” The smirk reappeared, and she tilted her head to the side. “Suit yourself, but if you walk out that door without agreeing to continue our business arrangement or fucking me over my desk, you’ll find out exactly how accurate I am. I can only imagine the damage this would do to your reputation—and your business. I may even embellish it a bit just to make it more dramatic.”

  “Why are you doing this? You would seriously open old wounds just because you want me to fuck you? Are you out of your mind?”

  “I gave you a choice, Ian—the clock is ticking. Which will it be? We can continue making money, or we can start having some real fun.”

  Fun.

  It wasn’t the first time a woman had said that to me before insinuating herself in my life. Once again, I was faced with an impossible situation. All I knew was that I couldn’t risk damage to my family. I couldn’t allow Blaire to expose the truth—too many people would be hurt.

  Temporarily defeated, I released a heavy exhale. “I’ll email you some dates of when I’m available to shoot.”

  “Bummer,” she pouted. “I was hoping you’d go for option number two.”

  “I’m sure you were.” My lips stretched into a tight smile. “I already told you that wouldn’t happen again.” I stepped past her and stopped. “Count yourself lucky that I’m not an abusive asshole or this conversation would’ve ended differently.”

  “Now that’s an Ian I’d love to meet.”

  I shook my head and left without another word, wondering how in the hell I’d managed to put myself in that position—again. Blaire was crazy, no doubt. I needed to humor her until she made a mistake. Then I could put things right.

  Epilogue

  Late spring

  The club was beginning to fill with the typical Friday night crowd—young twenty-somethings looking for a quick hookup. I didn’t do the club scene anymore. At thirty-one, it seemed unimportant—trivial, even. The word jaded fit me perfectly.

  The truth? The only reason I was hanging out in the Glass Cactus on a Friday was because work took me there. I had been hired to photograph the Gaylord Texan resort for a piece Southern Living was planning to run. My plan was to grab a few drinks then head back to my room—alone—and get some rest.

  Turned out fate had other plans.

  It was just past seven o’clock, and the club was already damn near at capacity. Fucking insane. I was standing at the bar, nursing my third beer and watching a group of idiots at a nearby table slam tequila shots, when a soft, warm object crashed into me. Acting on pure instinct, I grabbed hold to steady whoever it was to prevent us both taking a nosedive. We swayed, and then I felt a sharp, stabbing pain in the top of my foot.

  “Shit.”

  I looked down at the petite redhead pressed against me. “Are you okay?”

  Her head slowly lifted until our gazes locked. Fucking hell. The first thing I noticed was her eyes—fucking teal green—and I was captivated. Several seconds passed before I could even speak. I shook it off. I was being ridiculous.

  “Did you hear me? Are you okay?”

  Her mouth opened and closed several times before she finally spoke. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry about your foot. I’m not usually this clumsy.”

  Even above the ambient noise of the club, I could hear the pure, silvery tone of
her voice. It awakened something deep within me, something I’d never felt before.

  I smiled. “No harm done. I’ve got a spare.”

  She laughed and took a step back, only then realizing my hands were wrapped around her biceps. A bright flush washed over her face, and it made her even more endearing. I drank her in, the artist in me trying to memorize every detail—her oval face, pert nose, pouty lips. She was beautiful, but there was something in her eyes that told me she was just as damaged as I was. I was drawn to her, and for the first time, I felt a pull to make a connection with a woman.

  Her hands lifted as if to touch me—and who the fuck knew what would happen if she did—then halted, clenched into tight fists. I wanted to think she was just as affected as I was, but then again, who knew? I’d been wrong about women before.

  She pulled away and jerked her thumb in the direction of the restrooms. “Well, sorry again. If you’ll excuse me, I need to...”

  “Sure. Sorry. Have a good evening.”

  I released her and reached for my beer. She continued to stare as I lifted the bottle to my lips and took a drink. Her discomfort was evident, and for some reason, that pleased me. It meant I was getting to her as much as she had gotten to me. A quick shake of her head, then a mumbled apology, and she was gone, leaving me staring after her, wondering what the fuck just happened.

  The adult thing to do would have been to remain where I was and wait for her to return.

  But I didn’t.

  I couldn’t believe it—I was nervous to talk to a chick. Me. My brothers would never let me hear the end of it if they knew.

  It made me feel a bit like a stalker, but I moved to the other end of the bar so I could have a better view of the club, and hopefully watch where she went. I needed to know if she was with anyone before I approached her. In a matter of minutes, she was back, turning her head from side to side as if searching for something—or someone.

  She pushed her way through the crowd and joined two women and a man at a table near the dance floor. Well, that was potentially problematic. I watched a bit longer, trying to determine his role in her life. After several minutes of observing their interactions, I decided they were just friends.

  It was time to make a move.

  I tracked down their waitress and sent fresh drinks to their table. At that point, there was no going back, especially when they all looked my way. It seemed as though she was trying to play it off as no big deal, but I could tell the guy knew better. I took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadows. As soon as I did, her eyes found mine and our gazes locked. My feet moved on autopilot, drawing me closer to the auburn-haired beauty I was desperate to meet. It was crazy—insane, actually. I couldn’t remember any other time in my life that I’d felt this strong—or immediate—a connection with a woman.

  Her female companions whispered to each other, and one flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulder. The movement distracted Beauty, giving me a chance to get my shit together before I spoke to her. I didn’t want to make myself look like an idiot.

  I stopped beside her, and leaned an elbow on their table, amused that she still hadn’t looked my way. The guy beside her gave her a swift nudge to direct her attention back to me. Color filled her cheeks, and her mouth opened, but she didn’t speak.

  “I wanted to come over and properly introduce myself,” I explained, extending my hand. “I’m Ian.”

  Her lips curled into a bashful smile as she slipped her small hand into mine. “Hi. I’m Emmy.”

  I had intended it to be a simple handshake, something I’d done a million times, but somehow, it was so much more. A jolt of heat rushed through me, cracking the ice that filled my dark soul. My thumb caressed the backs of her fingers while my fingers traced her palm.

  “Hi, Emmy. Who are your friends?” I asked, without breaking eye contact.

  “This is Tyler, and the one making googly eyes at you is Becky.” She inclined her head toward the other woman. “That’s Madison.”

  I turned my head toward them and nodded. “Nice to meet you all.”

  Becky, a sultry brunette with long hair, leaned forward in an obvious attempt to flash her tits at me. I knew her game. I’d met women like her before. Fuck, at one time she was what I wanted. “Thank you for the drinks, Ian. It was very kind.”

  Maintaining eye contact, I smiled. “My pleasure.” I turned back to Emmy. “Do you mind if I join you?”

  “Oh, please. Have a seat,” blurted Becky, reeking of desperation.

  Emmy rolled her eyes—which I found humorous—and nodded. I slid onto the chair, Emmy’s hand still in mine.

  “So, Ian,” Tyler began, laughter filling his voice. “What’s your opinion on spitting versus swallowing?”

  Emmy blushed and dropped her chin as she covered her eyes with her free hand. “Please don’t humor him.”

  “Swallow.” I winked, setting off a burst of laughter and breaking the awkwardness of our introductions.

  My life had been a series of disappointments and betrayals, empty and meaningless. I had just never realized how empty until the moment our eyes met. As ridiculous as it seemed, I recognized our chance meeting for what it was—a gift. And for the first time in my life, I felt the promise of something more ... something beautiful.

  It was fate.

  Acknowledgments

  This is one of the more difficult portions of writing a book. There are several people I need to thank, even though these few words will most likely not be enough to completely express how grateful I truly am.

  Thank you, dear reader, for taking a chance on my writing and taking this journey with me. I hope that I have provided an escape from the drudgery of daily life.

  Allison, thank you for your input when I was brainstorming ideas for which parts of Ian and Emmy’s past I should explore.

  Jenn, thank you once again for all of your hard work—and your advice during those times I got stuck in the story. A simple ‘thank you’ definitely isn’t enough.

  Brittany, thank you for tolerating all of my questions about the marketing side of this crazy business I’ve jumped into with both feet. You have been a lifesaver!

  I’m sure there are many others that I haven’t named. Please know that you are all special to me, and I am ever grateful for your love and support.

  About the Author

  Ember Danté lives in East Texas, home of pine trees, roses, and pollen. Lots of pollen. Her sense of sarcasm and Texas-sized imagination were introduced in her debut novel Exposure. When she isn’t busy herding cats, she can be found engrossed in a good book or indulging her Netflix addiction. She is currently hard at work on her next novel.