by Cora Kenborn
Once inside, we mingle a bit before making our way to the bar. “I’m so nervous.” Laken smooths the front of her dress for the hundredth time and accepts her martini from the bartender.
Within three sips, half of the liquid is gone and I can’t help but smile to myself. The last time she drank, she let down her guard and I spent the night buried so deep inside her I thought I’d never find my way out. I’m hoping for a repeat performance.
“You’ll be fine,” I remind her, slipping my hand into hers. “Don’t let them intimidate you. Just stick to the facts we’ve talked about and if you’re unsure about anything, get them talking about themselves. These arseholes love nothing more than to talk about how great they are.”
“How are you so calm? I mean, we’re lying to your bosses and everything is on the line for both of us. Getting everything we want out of this is contingent on how well we can sell this.”
How can I be so calm? Calm? I’m not feckin’ calm. I’m anything but calm. I’m a mess inside. My stomach is churning, my head is pounding, and my heart—well, hell. Let’s not even talk about what an bleedin’ hole that thing has become. All I know is that it aches because I’m about to introduce the woman on my arm as my fiancée, and as much as we’ve planned for this, I don’t want it to be for one night. I don’t want her to take off that ring when this is over and hand it back to me.
I want more.
Squeezing her hand, I start to steer her away from the main ballroom and toward a darkened hallway. “We need to talk…”
Before we can turn the corner, salt and pepper gelled hair fills my line of sight, and Mr. Navarro stops me with a friendly hand on my chest. “And who is this beauty, Mackay? I half expected to see little Sophie with you tonight.” Nodding to Laken clarifies his statement. “You know, seeing as how this is a charity benefit for your daughter’s school.”
Lacing my fingers with hers, I pull Laken toward me, some deep-rooted caveman vibe taking over my normal, outgoing demeanor. “Laken Cavanaugh, meet marketing director at Tate & Cane, Gerald Navarro. Gerald, I’d like you to meet Laken Cavanaugh,” I pause as I swallow the words I’ve waited twenty-eight days to say. “My fiancée.”
I steal a quick glance at Laken, whose face is frozen in a forced smile. She’s waiting, as am I, for his response. After a few moments of silence, Navarro’s lips twitch, as a smile builds at the corners until they turn up into a full-hearted laugh. Throwing his head back, he slaps me on the back of the shoulder and beams. “It’s about damn time, Mackay! And I don’t blame you for keeping this one under wraps.” Lowering his voice, he leans in and winks at Laken. “Better to solidify things before subjecting her to the likes of Tribiotti.”
After walking the red carpet, taking the obligatory pictures, and listening to Tate & Cane bigwigs make their inflated speeches, I’ve introduced Laken to Mr. Navarro and all the people who’d be responsible for hiring her as an intern and an eventual hire at Tate & Cane. Everything is falling into place, but unfortunately, I have to leave Laken alone with Vince for a while to actually do my job and take the official pictures of the event. It takes me twice as long to do what I need to do because after every shot, I’m scanning the dance floor and shooting death glares at my friend.
Click.
Vince holding her close.
Click.
Vince looking into her eyes and flashing her a smug smile.
Click.
Vince twirling her around the dance floor, forcing a giggle out of her that makes me want to punch that smug grin off his face.
Even though I’m the one who put her in his arms, it irritates the hell out of me to watch him dance with Laken. He’s holding her much too close, and she’s laughing way too loudly at his stupid jokes. I asked him to keep an eye on her while I worked, but even though he’s my friend, I don’t trust him not to hit on her. The minute he lowers a hand to the base of her spine and dips her low, my hand curls around my camera, almost snapping it in two with jealousy.
Agitated, I force myself to turn my head away. That’s it. I’m done. After tonight, I’m telling Laken that all bets are off. I’m finished pretending. I’ll live up to my side of our bargain and do everything in my power to get her job at Tate & Cane, but I’m not giving her up. There’s something between us. I feel it, and I’m not letting it go.
Scanning the dance floor, I lock eyes with Laken. She gives me a small smile and dangles her fingers over Vince’s shoulder in an unintentionally sexy wave. I lose my breath. I feckin’ lose my breath and my dick jumps to attention just from a smile.
There are countless women in this room who could buy and sell her twenty times over. Women who wipe their arses with hundred dollar bills and spend their lives in the limelight, networking with New York’s finest. However, none of them can hold a candle to Laken Cavanaugh. She’s the star of the show, and I’m the envy of every man in the room.
That’s how I know this shite has to end now.
Just as I move to cut in on their dance, a hand snakes across my back. “I hope you saved me a dance.”
Anger vibrates through me as I grit my teeth and purposely keep my back toward her. “I’m working, Gloria.”
She seems slightly amused at finding me alone. “Where’s your fiancée? I ran into Bryce Holley and he told me I should make sure I introduced myself to her tonight.”
Motherfecker. “She’s busy.”
Gloria continues as if I didn’t even speak, trailing her nails down the length of my spine. “I knew you’d show up alone, Niall. You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, but it stops tonight. My generosity is over.”
I fix my eyes on Laken through the lens of my camera, but I can almost feel Gloria’s stare on me as she slips a key into my pocket.
“I’m tired of being made to wait.” Patting my pocket, she leans in close. “Room five-sixteen. You either show up and give me what I want, or you can find a new job and Sophie can find herself a new school.”
The band finishes playing their song and the room quietens. I’ve never raised my hand to a woman, but I’ve never wanted to hit one so much in my life as I do right now. If Gloria had a dick swinging between her thighs, she sure as hell would’ve already been on the ground with my fist between her eyes.
However, even as our voices raise and eyes turn our way, I rein in my control and turn to face her, dismantling the lens on my camera with more force than necessary. “Threats again?”
Standing in a floor-length, bright red strapless gown, Gloria has her hair swept up in a similar style to Laken’s. But whereas Laken’s looks effortlessly classy and feminine, Gloria’s tightly pulled twist is as harsh as the daggers flying out of her eyes.
“Facts, Niall. And were it not for the fact that my son is here, I’d make a scene right now and bury you.” Gathering her composure, she pats her overly-sprayed hair and nods to the camera still gripped in my hand as she tosses back a glass of champagne. “Now take our picture so I can send him home with my maid, since my so-called nanny had better things to do tonight than her job.”
“Your son?” The words rub me the wrong way. That same unsettled feeling I’ve had all night twists my insides again.
She lets out a small sigh as she snags yet another glass of champagne off a passing hostess tray. “Yes, my son goes to Ravenhill too, Niall. You do remember that this is a benefit for them, don’t you? I need pictures of me being the doting mother.”
“Wait, he’s here? Tonight?”
“Nothing gets by you, does it?”
Walking in, I’d made the decision to protect Laken from Gloria. But this bitch just pushes all my buttons and has now forced my hand. She wants a doting mother? I’ll show her a real one.
“Come with me,” I say, grabbing her elbow and pulling her toward the dance floor.
“Thanks,” she smirks, “but I’m not in the mood to tango.”
“And I’m not in the mood for you to carry on with your bullshite,” I warn with a growl, making my way toward Laken an
d Vince. I’m putting all of this to rest. Everything ends tonight. I’ll get Gloria off my back, Sophie will be safe, my job will be safe, and somehow, I’ll convince Laken that we’re meant to be together.
I’m feeling confident about my decision until I catch Laken’s eye. The moment she sees me, she stumbles out of Vince’s hold, her eyes wide with terror. Everything seems to happen in slow motion as she bounces her gaze between Gloria and me, backing away and tripping over the back of her long gown.
And then things go from bad to worse as Bryce Holley appears by Gloria’s side and opens his mouth. “Gloria, have you met Mackay’s new fiancée?”
Gloria starts laughing hysterically. “Laken Cavanaugh? What the hell are you doing here?”
Laken gasps. “Lady Hammerle?”
I suck in a harsh breath at the sound of Laken’s name coming out of Gloria’s mouth. “You two know each other?”
“Niall, man, are you all right?” Vince breaks in, lifting an eyebrow. “You’re fucking pale as shit.”
All right?
All feckin’ right?
Although I’m still processing their reactions, nothing about what is happening is all right. The woman I lied to, who wants to fuck me, and the woman I lied with, and am currently fucking, already know each other? In what universe is this okay? In what scenario does this not equal disaster?
Laken covers her mouth and nose with both hands, shaking her head repeatedly as if doing so will teleport her out of the ballroom. “Holy shit, you’re the black widow?”
Shaking off her shock, Gloria’s pupils dilate as she turns and glares at me. “You called me a black widow?”
I shake my head. “Not important, Gloria! Can we please focus on how you two know each other?”
“Laken!” Out of nowhere, Preston, dressed in the smallest tuxedo I’ve ever seen, runs across the dance floor from outside on the terrace and hurls himself into Laken’s arms. Stunned, Laken catches him and gives him a stiff embrace.
“Hi, Pres.”
Bracing myself for an answer I know I don’t want to hear, I ruffle Preston’s blond hair but keep my eyes on Laken. “Hey there, Preston. Don’t you mean Mommy?”
If possible, Laken’s face pales even more and tiny beads of sweat break out across her forehead. “Niall, I can explain,” she whispers.
Realizing what’s about to happen, I ask the words anyway. “Laken, why is your son here?”
“Her son?” Gloria straightens her posture, collecting the shock that somehow managed to register on her expressionless face. “Preston is my son.”
“No, he’s Laken’s son.”
Gloria narrows her eyes, and as realization blankets her face, a guttural laugh brews deep in her throat and spills out, coating the silence. “Oh, this is almost worth everything.” She shifts a finger between Laken and me. “So, you concocted this story to make me think you were engaged, and you were the one who ended up getting played.”
I can’t hear a word she’s saying. All I can do is concentrate on the tears running down Laken’s face as she hugs Preston to her chest.
“Oh, get over yourself, Niall,” Gloria continues. “Laken has been my nanny for over a year and a half. I had a planned C-section at thirty-six weeks with that boy.” Moving closer against me, a smug smile paints her lips as she leans in close. “I have no stretch marks because of it. Do you want to see?”
“Laken?” Preston asks, tugging on one of Laken’s curls that springs loose from her pinned up hair. “Is Sophie here? Mommy, I’ve had so much fun with Laken and Sophie and Niall.”
With a devious gleam in her eye, Gloria claps her hands together and raises her voice. “Well, isn’t this just special? Everyone, can I have your attention, please? My very own nanny here is engaged to our Niall Mackay.” Cuing the band to return to the stage, she grabs as many champagne flutes off a passing tray as she can hold in two hands. “Maestros? Can we hear a little Here Comes the Bride? This has turned into an engagement party!”
Handing me a flute of champagne, I freeze, my shock rendering me speechless and immobile as Gloria walks by Laken, who’s clinging to Preston like a life preserver. Taking a long sip, she leans close, speaking low, but there’s no mistaking the words I read on her lips.
“Oh, by the way, you’re fired. Get your shit and get out.”
And just like that, my world ends.
Chapter Ten
Present Day
Laken
Back to Jack from Titanic.
Even when he knows the ship is going down, and will most likely end up as shark bait, the dude keeps his game face on. It’s like no matter how many icicles hang from his perfect blond hair or how blue his lips get, the dude has this never say die attitude.
You have to respect that. I mean, I think you have to respect that. The chips are down, the band is playing that annoying as fuck song, and people are dropping like flies off the side into the frigid water, but that son of a bitch never gives up.
So why in the hell am I sitting on my couch at six a.m. in an evening gown, stuffing my face, half drunk, and feeling sorry for myself when I should be pulling a Jack and climbing to the top of my own sinking ship instead of going down with it?
Good question. Maybe because I’m a fucking glutton for punishment. Or a moron. Or hopelessly in love. Can you be in love after only three weeks?
Yes. Never mind. I’m answering my own question. Yes, you can, because I’m head over heels in love with Niall Mackay. I just didn’t know it until I lost him. And now, after making myself sick off ice cream and cheap wine, I know now there’s only one thing left to do.
Tossing the demolished ice cream carton on the coffee table, I chuck the spoon across the room and discard the empty wine bottle on the couch cushion. The ship may be sinking, but it hasn’t gone completely under yet.
I’m going to do what I should’ve done six hours ago. I just hope it’s not too late.
Picking up my phone, I call for reinforcements. The minute she picks up, I don’t even bother with pleasantries. “Do you still have the security tapes we saved on that flash drive for a rainy day?”
“Of course,” Lollie says as if offended I’d even ask. “Why?”
“Email them over to me.”
“Why?” she repeats, a slight edge in her tone.
“Because there’s about to be a fucking tsunami.”
***
Threatening Gloria Hammerle ended up being the highlight of my year. No, I take that back. Having her cave under pressure and dissolve into a bucket of tears at my feet was the highlight of my year. Threatening her just felt fucking fantastic.
Spending the better part of a decade as the Hammerle housekeeper, Lollie had made friends with the gardener, the chef, the maintenance workers, and most importantly, the head of security. Not surprisingly, they all loathed Gloria as much as we did and took great pleasure in passing along security tapes of every debaucherously sordid sexual escapade she had on the grounds. Lollie had kept them all on a backup file, calling them her little insurance policy for a rainy day.
With Gloria still threatening to have Niall fired and Sophie thrown out of Ravenhill, as I ran out of the Tate & Cane party, I knew the floods were rising and I had to act quickly. Convincing Lollie to be my partner in crime wasn’t hard. She’d been waiting for a moment like this and gleefully emailed me every pornographic detail that was now burned into my retinas for all of eternity.
With the blackmail in my hand, it was almost poetic to have Gloria meet me at the same park where I’d first met Niall. Perfect for justice to be served. Once I showed her the footage, she folded like a cheap house of cards. Gone was the bravado of Lady Hammerle, her nose stuck so high in the air she’d trip over a pebble and break her fucking neck. All that was left on a bench in Central Park was a woman in a velour track suit with mascara running down her face as she begged me not to send the file to her husband.
Apparently, there was a prenup. And that prenup included a cheating clause.
Do you see the shit-eating grin on my face? Just wait, it gets better.
With a written agreement—because I’m not a moron—Gloria agreed to leave Niall and Sophie alone, and to step down from the board of directors of Tate & Cane as well as give me visitation rights with Preston.
Didn’t think I had that kind of power, did you? Yeah, me either.
But apparently, when your bare ass is on the line—and the pool table, and the chaise lounge, and the kitchen island—then a shift of power can happen in the grunt of an orgasm.
See what I did there?
Now, half an hour after Gloria ran off in a sniveling mess, I’m still here. I’m still sitting on a bench in Heckscher Playground, staring at the same slide where two unsupervised children started a chain of events that landed me right back in the same spot. Only this time, I’m alone and the only thing that’s unsupervised is my life. My future.
My hands shake as I type out the text I swore I wouldn’t send. Twenty-eight days. That’s all our pretend engagement was supposed to last in their eyes. For three weeks, Niall and I met at this same spot and built something that neither of us expected or wanted.
One promise unfulfilled.
Staring at the ring still on my hand, I give it a twirl and hit send.
Me: So, I’m here at the park. Obviously, you’re not. It’s 2:00 p.m. on Sunday, so I’m banking on the fact that you’re a creature of habit. Don’t let me down.
4:00 p.m.
Me: Two hours. Wow. You sure like to make a grand entrance, huh?
6:00 p.m.
Me: Okay, if you insist. I forgive you.
Yeah, that one’s a stretch, I admit it.