Beautiful Liar (The Reed Rivers Trilogy Book 2)

by Lauren Rowe

  I nod vaguely, not sure how to respond to that. If you ask me, the measure of a man is the empire he’s built from dirt, with nothing but his blood, sweat, and tears. But okay. Tomato. Tomahto.

  “You grew up in LA, right?” Georgina asks.

  “Correct.”

  “Why did your mother move to the East Coast? Does she have family back there? Did she remarry?”

  What the serious fuck? She’s relentless. A dog with a meaty bone. “Uh, she... yeah, my mother grew up in Scarsdale, and has family back there. She’s never remarried, but she does have a serious boyfriend. This guy named Lee. They live together.”

  “Oh, how saucy. Good for her.” She laughs. “I think it’s wonderful for your mother to have a companion later in life. Do you like Lee? Is he nice? Does he join in when you and Mom do yoga?”

  Seriously, how the fuck am I talking about this with Georgina? I’ve had that same goddamned framed photo on my desk since I moved into this house five years ago, and nobody has ever noticed it or asked me about it. Not once. But in walks Georgina Ricci, the Intrepid Reporter, and in a matter of minutes, she’s sniffed it out—and then pushed and pushed for more and more. I thought telling Georgina that story in the garage about my father and golf would more than satisfy her hunger for personal details. Is she going to be on my ass for stories like this about my life all week?

  I want to say, “Enough about this. Moving on.” But I’m positive that will only backfire on me. Spur her on more. Put her on the scent. So, instead, I say calmly, “Lee is a nice enough guy. He’s really quiet, though, so it’s hard to get to know him. But my mother loves him, and that’s all that matters to me. And, yes, he occasionally joins in on yoga. But just barely.”

  Georgina giggles. “I love hearing you talk about your close relationship with your mother. Does she come visit you in California? I bet she’s so proud of you and all you’ve accomplished.”

  Jesus Christ. When will this torture end? If Georgina loves mothers so much, maybe she should call up hers and have a nice, long chat, and leave mine alone. But there’s no way I’m going to let Georgina know this is a sensitive topic for me. If I do, my gut tells me she’ll only be more intrigued—which would make this one hell of a long week for me.

  “My mother visits me occasionally,” I lie. “I’ve actually offered to set her up in a place in Malibu, right on the beach, but she prefers living at her current place with Lee. Lee’s got family in the City, apparently. Plus, he’s got some health issues that prevent him from traveling, so they’ve decided to stay put in Scarsdale for the foreseeable future.”

  Georgina glides to me, wedges herself between my thighs, slides her arms around my neck, and nuzzles her nose against mine. “You want to hear something super kinky?”

  “There’s no need to ask me that question. My answer to it will always be a resounding yes.”

  She giggles. “The fact that you keep that photo on your desk, and visit your mom regularly—and do yoga and play Scrabble with her, and make her happiness your top priority...” She physically swoons in my arms with a heavy, happy, sexy sigh. “Oh, God, Reed. All of that really turns me on.”

  The butterflies in my stomach turn into a hard-on—one that’s giving me instant amnesia about the annoyance I’ve been feeling about this topic. I slide my arms around Georgie and smile broadly at her. “That’s what turns you on? What kind of sick fuck are you, Georgina Ricci?”

  She giggles. “Maybe when you go back East on your next business trip, I could come with you to meet your mom? I’d love to chat with her about what you were like as a little boy.”

  Well, that’s a nonstarter, obviously. But she feels so good in my arms, and smells so damned good, I find myself lying to her face. “Maybe. We’ll have to see how scheduling works out.”

  Squealing, Georgina kisses my cheek, and then proceeds to lay soft kisses up and down my jawline that harden my thickening dick to steel. Her lips against my ear, she whispers, “I’m so glad I’m staying here with you, instead of at a hotel. Seeing you in your natural habitat has been a huge turn-on for me.”

  I turn my head and bring my mouth to hers, and when my tongue slides into her mouth, fireworks explode inside me. We kiss for several delicious minutes, our tongues dancing, our lips devouring, our bodies becoming more and more ravenous. Finally, when we disengage, Georgie looks as aroused as I feel.

  “Come on, baby,” I say, running my thumb over her bee-stung lower lip. “Let’s take this house tour upstairs.”

  Chapter 4

  Georgina

  Freshly showered and clad in a white tank top and soft, pink shorts with “Sassy Pants” on the ass, I knock on Reed’s bedroom door.

  “Entrez,” his sexy voice calls from behind the door.

  Clutching Alessandra’s demo, I open the door and step inside the vast room... and gasp at the sensuous scene before me. As expected, Reed is wearing nothing but briefs. Sexy black ones, to be exact. But expecting him to be nearly naked, after previously seeing online photos of him in swim trunks, is a very different thing than seeing this god among men nearly naked in person. He’s mouthwatering, this man. Scrumptious. Delicious. An erotic work of art.

  He’s lying atop his bed. Also, as expected. But this isn’t any normal bed. It’s a massive wood-carved four-poster that’s, not surprisingly, fit for a king. Its frame is imposing and masculine. Its mattress covered in a ruby-red duvet and sumptuous pillows of gold, blue, and purple. If Henry VIII were alive today, he’d sleep in this bed.

  And the cherry on top of this fantastical cake? Or, rather, the mirror? Reed’s got one on his ceiling. A mirror. Directly above his porno-king bed. It’s a feature that turns me on and amuses me in equal measure.

  “Nice mirrored ceiling,” I say, my tone bursting with snark as I walk across the room. “I didn’t know that was an actual thing, except maybe in music videos and porn.”

  “Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

  “I’m not. I’m mocking it before trying it.”

  He chuckles. “Trust me, little kitty. Watching yourself having sex is gonna get you off like crazy. It’s like watching yourself in a live-action sex tape. So fucking hot.” He pats the mattress next to him, his eyes blazing. “Come here, kitty-kitty.”

  I do as I’m told. I climb onto the bed next to him, still clutching the demo. But when he leans in to kiss me, I hold out the flash drive, sensing one kiss, and I’ll quickly forget about the demo for the rest of the night. “I look forward to watching myself getting fucked by you in your mirrored ceiling after you listen to this. All three songs. A minute each. A deal’s a deal.”

  Reed eyes the demo in my hand, but takes it, although he’s looking at it with downright disdain.

  My stomach flip-flops. “You promised, Reed.”

  “Yes, I know.” He exhales. “But we need to set some ground rules. Before I listen, I need you to promise that, whatever my ultimate opinions on that demo might be, you’re going to react calmly and with maturity.”

  I roll my eyes. “Remember that thing I said about you coming off as condescending at times? Yeah, well, this is one of those times.”

  “It needs to be said, Georgie. This is business for me. Nothing personal whatsoever. I want you to promise you won’t react emotionally if things don’t go as you’re hoping. Whatever happens, I don’t want this demo to get in the way of us having a great time tonight and during this entire week.”

  “I’m an adult, Reed. Of course, I know this is business for you. Whatever happens, I’ll handle it calmly and in a mature fashion, and without letting my emotions run wild. Unless, of course, you fall head over heels for her, at which point I’m going to attack you with so much wild emotion, I might accidentally snuff the very life out of you. I apologize profusely in advance, if I wind up ending your life out of pure, unadulterated joy.” I giggle, but he remains steadfast and serious. Which makes my stomach somersault again. “Reed, all of this is a moot point. I’m positive you’re goin
g to absolutely love what you hear. But, in the event you’re on the fence, I promise to hear you out and respect whatever you say, as long as you’re being honest with me.”

  “Of course I’ll be honest. One hundred percent honest.”

  My stomach seizes with nerves. All my bravado leaves me. Holy shit. This is it. I’m ninety-nine percent certain Reed will love Alessandra... but what if he doesn’t? I can’t fathom having to call Alessandra and tell her Reed finally listened... and wasn’t impressed. Making that call would break my heart. But there’s no going back now.

  “I’m ready,” I say. “Go ahead.”

  Nodding, Reed pushes the flash drive into the side of his laptop. And a moment later, there she is. Alessandra. In a video. Sitting in a small studio, strumming her guitar, and singing from the depths of her soul.

  I hold my breath. Wring my hands. And watch Reed as he watches Alessandra’s video. I think I’m pretty good at reading him, but he’s completely unreadable to me now. Indeed, just this fast, he’s flipped into full-throttle business mode, despite the fact that we’re lying together, almost naked, on top of his bed. Indeed, just this fast, we might as well be sitting across from each other at his desk at River Records.

  I peek at the counter at the bottom of the video and my spirit cautiously surges. Reed’s now watched Alessandra’s video a solid forty seconds longer than he listened to Bryce’s sister! That’s got to be a good sign, right? But I’ve no sooner made that observation than Reed pauses the video.

  “Okay,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion. “Which file do you want me to play next?”

  Shit. Fuck. He stopped Ally’s video at exactly the one-minute mark—precisely the length of time he’d promised to listen. If he loved her, wouldn’t he listen longer, despite what he promised? “That one.” I point to his screen. “It’s an audio file. No video. But her voice on this one is especially—”

  “We’ll let the song speak for itself,” he says bluntly. “The time to try to charm and sell me is over, Georgie.”

  Holy fuck. I shoot him a look that says, Well, shit. No need to be rude about it. But he’s not looking at me. Indeed, without so much as a glance at me, Reed clicks on the file I’ve indicated. And, once again, Alessandra’s voice is wafting from his laptop speaker.

  It’s rinse and repeat. Reed listens, stoned-faced and impassive, for exactly one minute, before pausing the song and moving on to the third file. Another audio file. Which he then listens to for exactly one minute, without giving away a damned thing.

  And that’s it.

  The room is filled with nothing but the sound of my anxious breathing now. Reed has listened to all three songs on Alessandra’s demo, as promised. And he’s right: the time for scheming and negotiating and flirting and middle fingers raised to the sky is over. Alessandra’s music must now speak for itself, without any help from me. I let out a slow exhale, feeling nervous and frayed.

  Reed slowly closes his laptop. He purses his lips. And, finally, looks at me, his dark eyes intense and giving nothing away. “She’s talented,” he says matter-of-factly. “She’s got good vocal control. A nice texture to her voice. There’s no doubt she deserved her spot at Berklee.”

  I nod, feeling like I’m going to pass out.

  “One day, when she figures out who she is as an artist, as a person, I’m sure she’ll blossom. But, as things stand now, she’s not there yet. Not even close, if I’m being honest. I’m sorry, Georgie. She’s a pass for me.”

  It’s worst-case scenario. Way worse than I could have imagined. A truly gut-wrenching disappointment. Without meaning to do it, I whimper and then clutch Reed’s arm with urgency.

  “If you saw Alessandra perform live, I know you’d be able to see how special—”

  “No, Georgie. Don’t. It’s over. I’m not on the fence about her. Not in the least. She’s not for me.”

  I can’t believe my ears. I feel physically sick. Like the room is spinning. “But... when you listened to Bryce’s sister, you said young artists always need room to grow and develop.” Tears begin welling in my eyes, unbidden, despite my fervent desire to keep my eyes dry as a bone. “Ally just needs a little professional guidance. If she could get some coaching to help boost her confidence, I know—”

  “Georgie, stop. Please. My answer is no.”

  I blink and the tears welled in my eyes squirt down my cheeks.

  “Aw, Georgie. I knew this would happen.” He reaches out to wipe my cheek with this thumb, but I jerk my face away, too ashamed at myself for crying in front of him, for doing exactly what I promised I wouldn’t do, to let him comfort me. Actually, he’s the last person I want comforting me right now. I hate that I’m reacting like this. In fact, I’m livid with myself for it.

  But when I jerk away from Reed, it’s immediately clear he’s misinterpreting my body language. He doesn’t know I’m angry with myself. He thinks I’m punishing him. Taking my proverbial ball from the playground after not being chosen for a team and marching home.

  “So predictable,” he says, his tone turning acidic on a dime. “I don’t get to touch the merchandise if I didn’t pay your price?”

  I’m shocked. Disgusted. Pissed.

  Shaking his head, Reed retracts his hand from me and says, his voice low and intense, “Yes, Georgina. I told you young artists often need time to grow and develop. You might recall, however, that I made that comment when I thought we were having a conversation about music scouting in general. When I didn’t have a clue we were actually talking about your stepsister, specifically. If I’d been privy to that information, then I would have clarified that, yes, I’m willing to help a young, wild bucking bronco of an artist learn to rein him or herself in a bit. To control their wildness. There’s nothing better than barely contained chaos. But what I’m not willing to do, Georgina, ever, is try to coax a painfully shy pony who’s afraid of her own shadow to poke her goddamned head out of the barn and take a fucking risk.”

  I gasp. Asshole.

  “Life is too fucking short to try to coax someone out of their shell.”

  I’m aghast. Flooded with a whole bunch of emotions. Anger. Shock. Regret. Disappointment. Embarrassment. But, yeah, mostly…rage. At Reed, for being a dick right now. He doesn’t want to sign Alessandra? Okay. Fine. No need to be a prick about it.

  I know this is business to him, but I’m lying next to him on his bed in my pajamas, while he’s nearly naked. It’s not like we’re sitting across from each other at his office! It’s not like I’m some stranger off the street, like that poor girl who asked him to listen to her demo at the bar—but he’s treating me exactly like her! After fucking me—after eating me out—am I seriously no different to him than that poor girl at the bar? Would it kill him to soften his rejection, just this once, so as not to decimate me?

  But I’m equally mad at myself, as well, for being stupid enough to say the words “painfully shy” to Reed about Alessandra the other night. Obviously, I doomed my poor stepsister in Reed’s eyes before he’d even heard her first note. Why was I so stupid?

  Reed exhales. “Look, I know this is disappointing to you, but that’s life. You promised you’d handle my opinion maturely, and that’s exactly what I expect you to do.”

  Adrenaline surging inside my veins, I leap up from the bed and barrel toward the door. If I don’t extract myself from this situation for a bit to cool down, I’ll surely say something I’ll regret.

  “Goddammit,” Reed barks from behind me. “Don’t be so dramatic, Georgie. You promised you wouldn’t let my opinion affect our time together.”

  I whirl around at the door. “Okay, first off, I’m not being dramatic, Reed. This isn’t an act, designed to get a reaction out of you. I’m sincerely, genuinely crushed and in need of a minute to process my overwhelming and unexpected emotions.” I’m shaking. Flailing. “Gee, I’m so sorry if my pesky emotions are screwing up your plan to get laid tonight, but that’s life. Yes, it’s true I said I wouldn’t let your opinion
affect our time together, but that was before I knew you’d talk to me like you’re entitled to my body. You’re not. You don’t want to sign my stepsister to River Records? Fine. Whatever. Your opinion is obviously wrong and stupid, but you’re entitled to it. But there’s no excuse for you to be a flaming prick about it, especially when I’m sitting next to you barely clothed.”

  He throws up his hands. “Oh, for the love of fuck. You’re going to make this about me, when you’re the one who wouldn’t let me touch you because I didn’t give you what you wanted.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Not everything is about you.”

  “I’m running a for-profit record label in a cutthroat industry, Georgie. Not the Make-A-Wish Foundation.”

  I flip him off with my right hand—with the middle finger wearing my mother’s wedding ring. And I truly believe she’s cheering me on from heaven for doing it.

  “So mature,” he says. “And so predictable.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Was that too ‘dramatic’?” I say mockingly. “Am I play-acting in my mommy’s heels? Well, guess what, Reed? I wish I were play-acting in my mommy’s heels. Unfortunately, I haven’t had the pleasure of wearing my mommy’s heels, whether to play-act in them, or just dress up for a special night out, since I was nine. Which is when she died in a car accident. So, don’t say a fucking word about my mommy’s heels ever again!”

  He’s stricken. Pained. Full of regret. “Oh, Georgie. I had no idea.”

  “And then my father married Alessandra’s mother, and it felt like my mother had died a second time.” I wipe my eyes, but it’s no use. I’m a hot mess. “I was so full of rage about the wedding, Reed. Crushed. Confused. Betrayed. But Alessandra was sweet about it, even though her father had just died. She had every reason to be as angry as I was. She had every reason to lash out, the way I did. But, see, that’s not Alessandra Tennison. Whereas I’ve always lashed out when I’m hurt, she’s always lashed in. Yes, I’m too quick to flip someone off. I own that. But at least, I get it out. That poor girl has struggled her whole life with anxiety and self-doubt and crippling shyness. But she’s come so far. She went to that audition for Berklee and nailed it. She’s come so far out of her shell, you have no idea. And do you know why? Because of her music. So, yes, she might still be a sweet little pony who’s afraid of her own shadow sometimes. But she’s well worth the time and effort to lead her out of the barn. I know, because for years, I was the only person she played her songs for. The only one. She knew I was going through so much, and she’d sing those songs to me and make me feel better. She was my angel. And all I wanted was for something wonderful to happen for her. I just wanted to pay her back for all she’s given to me, through her music, and her love, and kind heart, over the years.”