by Katrina Liss
There he is, waiting.
I’m ushered into the apartment by my immaculately dressed client with a big smile. I won’t take long to wipe that off his face. I’m not playing his games anymore.
I’m really, really not.
A little voice inside me says… aren't you?
"How are you, baby?" he asks, brushing my cheek with a kiss and taking my jacket.
I grit my teeth. "Fine."
"You look beautiful."
I don't acknowledge that. I'm now ready to let rip.
But unfamiliar voices reach me from inside. Vic has his hand at my back urging me forward. “Darling, I’d like you to meet Romy and Shuniz Sukun."
I’m thrown. A little startled. I could have sworn this evening he'd planned nothing more than a twosome and a tangle of limbs. Plus a bucketful of excuses for his behaviour.
But no...
I stare at Victor with a puzzled frown, but all he does is smile back, like the cat that got the cream.
A youngish Asian couple stand and come forward to greet me. Both are super smart in western dress, although I notice she has a lot of traditional jewelry and make up on. I walk forward towards Romy with an outstretched hand, my professional smile in place.
“Hi, how lovely to meet you both, I’m Ella, Vic’s fiancée.”
In minutes I find I’m chatting to Shuniz like she’s a long lost friend. I’m immediately taken with her; by her sweet smile and kind eyes, the soft voice; she could easily be a good friend if this whole situation wasn’t quite so false.
I'm told they’ve been married for only three months. And I can see the love they have for one another. It’s so natural and easy. They touch frequently and smile a lot. Victor emulates their adoration. He's all touchy feely and soft kisses. I can't shake him off, this manipulating guy whose fingers are entwined with mine. Neither can I shake off the pleasure I feel being anchored so close to his familiar body.
The guys are soon talking sports. Debating the new line up for the Yankees. I know Vic loves football, but it's not my scene. I switch off and turn my attention to Shuniz who is smiling at Romy indulgently.
She leans toward me and whispers, “We’re trying for a baby, actually.”
“Oh, really?” I disentangle from Vic, leading her to the couch where we can chat more privately and freely.
“We want lots of children. I’m from a big family myself. Five brothers and sisters. All married, with kids already. I'm the youngest. There’s a lot of expectation placed on us, mainly by Romy's mom. He's an only child, so...”
“I can identify with that. Vic’s mom is full-on needy. I swear she wants a few grandkids already and we’re only just engaged!”
She giggles. "Oh dear!"
I look up to find Vic quirking a brow our way. Did he hear that? He swipes his tongue over his lips, way too sexily reminding me how it felt to have that tongue on me, giving me serious pleasure.
A shot of lust hits me like an arrow from the love god.
Damn this guy. I need to keep my head in the game. No more amazing, rampant sex thoughts.
Soon the caterers arrive and they set up a swanky table in Vic’s dining room.
We take a seat and get served our meal. Vic pours us a non-alcoholic wine as Vic’s guests are tee-total, apparently.
This helps. Drink weakens resolve. I've discovered that to my cost. It’s good to have a night off the booze.
The food is delicious, and vegetarian, to cater to our company.
The two guys get very immersed in business talk over the meal. I understand some of it. Vic wants to set up a joint venture, in the cryptos. I’d have thought he’d prefer to steer well clear after what happened last night. A lot of what they say goes over my head, but I try to join in the conversation. Shuniz seems pretty clued up and joins in with the chat. And soon I find out why. She’s one half of their business. She trades too. I think I might have been a little sexist assuming it was her husband who was the brains and she was the beauty. Far from it, she’s super intelligent. And not at all shy of expressing her views.
I feel a bit of a dummy sitting there while they bat back and forth over strategy, leverage and pinch points.
“All right, babe? We’re not boring you, are we?”
Vic takes my hand and kisses it.
“I’m having a great time. Learning a lot of stuff.” If only this were real. “Everything okay with you?” I ask tentatively.
“Yeah, I’m good,” he replies with a stunning smile.
God knows why I’m asking him how he is? I’m supposed to be angry with him. But somewhere along the way, my anger has dissipated.
Now I’m feeling torn.
Earlier he’d upset me… trapped me. Tonight he’s being attentive, kind and lovely. I’m aware he can play a good part, but now, in this company, he seems genuine.
Don't weaken, girl.
Lord help me, I need to keep my mask in place.
“Ella’s planning on setting up a baking business. She makes cakes. Confectionery.”
“Sounds good. I’ve got a very sweet tooth. Let us know when you’re up and running.” Romy says, with a wink.
"That we will." Vic replies for me.
I shoot a look at Vic. I’m surprised he even mentioned it. Why reveal my plans, my dream. But a lot of things about him surprise me.
I’m sorry the evening's over when they get up to leave. I can’t remember having enjoyed a dinner party this much. But then again, any dinner parties I’ve attended in my life have been with my parents, my dad. Not really the same bag.
We’re all hugs and promises to meet up again soon. While Vic and Romy finalise some points and discuss which lawyer to use to draw up their business venture, Shuniz insists I take her cell number. I feel bad doing it, considering. Vic encourages me and I end up giving her mine in return.
These are the things I don’t like. It started simple with me being a fake girlfriend for a few dates. And suddenly we’re weaving an elaborate web of lies. Fake pasts, fake friends, fake engagement, a fake future...
“You were perfect, baby,” Vic says with a big sigh after we’re back inside the apartment main door.
“I’m not proud of it. Lying to nice people is out of order. And I wanna have a word with you.” I prod him in the chest. “About what you did earlier… getting Morag to side with you… I’m so pissed I could spit… that was completely underha—”
Before I can finish, he wraps me in his arms and kisses me like he’s a starving man. He groans into my mouth and his tongue dominates mine. In seconds I’m almost dizzy with desire. My feet leave the ground, heat rising between us like a reactor has just fired up. I can’t help but wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him close, soaking him in, devouring him just as eagerly.
Vic may be a controlling man, but he’s sex on legs and I’m only human.
Everything I'm made of is humming like a bee, and so needy of this man.
I’m on the edge of submission. Wanting more. My female parts begging for it. Everything contracts and dampens down below ready for the big bang. I’m fully aware of his arousal, pressing against my hip bone and I want that cock of his rammed inside me so bad.
“I want you... You don’t know… how... much.” He paces kisses in between the words, breaking down my resistance. Not that I have much left.
His lips seduce me so beautifully.
I want to stay just as much as he wants me to, to feel that heady, crazy rush when he does those things to me. To hear him moan my name when he comes.
“Hell!” I moan, giving him free rein, unable to stop him as the pleasure builds, shooting right down my body to my sex. My breathing is going crazy mad.
He surfaces, and stares at me, his breathing just as heavy. Slowly, his eyes still on mine, he traces his fingers over the curve of my breast, cupping it and giving it a soft squeeze. My legs start to go and I moan out loud. There’s the promise of heaven in his eyes… ecstasy in his touch… and I want it all.
&n
bsp; “Let’s take this somewhere else,” he growls from deep in his throat.
Part of me is throwing caution to the wind; I’ve already broken the rules, so why the hell not? The other part is still cool and detached, very aware how manipulated I’ve been and on the brink of making another big bad mistake.
There would be no going back from a second night with Vic.
I’d be all in.
A double pay whore.
I can’t allow that.
I take a deep breath, my head still in the game. Just about.
Much to his surprise, and mine, I find the strength to drag my lips from his and push him away.
“I think we’re done for the night.”
I take a step away from him, turn and go collect my jacket.
“What? Where the fuck are you going?” he asks with a growl.
“Home. You can’t buy me, Vic. Not the real me.”
His expression is unreadable.
“I wasn’t attempting to.”
“No? You could have fooled me. Tying me to you, with this,” I flash the ring at him. “Now, the only way I can work is with you.” To be fair, he does look pretty sheepish about it. “You’ve taken away my choice.”
“I felt you needed reassurance. A sign of commitment.”
“Commitment? You’re having a laugh! You told me you weren't up for any of that. That’s why you hired me in the first place! And as for putting me on double pay? Is that a working incentive, or am I just a higher class whore now?”
“Fucking hell, Ella! You said you were struggling. I'm trying to help.”
“Oh? Well, thank you so much, but I’m not a charity case,” I say, with a good dose of sarcasm. I remove the ring dramatically. “And I don’t want the responsibility of this thing between assignments. You look after it.”
Placing the ring on his console table I open the door and walk out, pressing the button for the elevator.
He follows me out and leans to the side of the elevator, arms crossed, his face a picture of fury, eyes a stormy grey. I ignore him as best I can.
“Ella? C’mon? Let’s talk about it. I think we need the talk.”
“I’m all done talking, mister. This is a job, and I’m now off duty.”
The elevator arrives and I step inside, turning to face Mr Angry.
“Goodnight Victor Walker. I wait to hear from you again, sir.”
This is how it should be.
This is how it’s going to be.
Until he releases me.
Chapter Eighteen
Vic
Ella and I are almost a week into our fake engagement.
I don’t know how, but word got out the second day.
The minute my mother heard, she started planning some lavish fête to celebrate our engagement, despite my insisting we did not want a party.
And here we are tonight. At the much unwanted party.
We’re side by side, her hand resting on my thigh and my arm curving around her shoulders. Ella giggles when I make a joke and is completely believable when she tells my mother how excited she is for our future.
Even though we’ve spent more time together and my ring is now on her finger... I feel more distant from her than I did the night we first met.
There have been no more steamy nights and no more stolen kisses. Not that I haven’t tried.
Three difficult and very short dates later, I’m beginning to wonder where this is going. What the fuck I’m actually doing?
Apart from lying to my mother. And lying to myself.
I’ve used every trick in the book to get to Ella.
In public, she swoons in my arms. She sighs and offers me kisses. Kisses that burn a path through my heart. The second we’re out of eyesight and earshot of my mother and everyone else who might be looking on, she untangles from me and becomes frozen like ice when I try to touch her.
My mind is torn. On the one hand, I know this is still officially fake and her reaction to me isn’t entirely unreasonable, and yet, on the other hand, I wish more than ever that what we have was real.
I never expected to fall for my escort, but despite that extra complication, Ella has fast become the one.
Somehow I need to rewire the situation.
Turn it round without her thinking I’m lying to her or manipulating her.
We’re seated at a large table surrounded by my mother and twenty of her friends. Ella is holding my hand and discussing wedding details. I feel so distant from her, so I pull her closer to me, trying to bridge the gap, but even close by, she seems unreachable. Like she's slipping away.
My mother suddenly turns to Ella, reaching out for her left hand which lies on the table.
“The ring fits you so well, Ella,” she says with a big smile.
My mother holds up Ella’s hand, letting everyone ooh and ahh over the gigantic rock on her finger again. When I’d given that ring to Ella, it had been instinctive. I was so sure she should have it. Maybe I should have held off a few weeks, because that’s another complication in a growing minefield of them.
“You want to know something, Victor?” sighs my mother dreamily, as she squeezes Ella’s hand. “I was beginning to think the family ring would never get passed on. I'm so glad you’ve given it to someone as special as Ella.”
Christ alive, I can't believe she's bringing this up now. Fuck.
Ella nearly chokes on the wine she’s sipping, her round blue eyes flitting instantly from my mother to me.
“Family ring, huh?” The tone of her voice makes everyone at the table exchange glances.
Her full lips draw into a taut line as she inspects the ring that I’d so casually placed on her finger. I don’t know why I kept it to myself, other than to try and put as little pressure on her as possible.
“Mom, no, ” I whisper sharply, but my mother ignores my curt tone.
She laughs and then winks knowingly at Ella. “Don’t tell me Vic never told you the story about that ring? It’s worth a fortune and has been passed down in the family for generations. Victor’s great grandfather had it commissioned or his then wife to be. They had three children. Victor’s grandmother was the eldest. So it was hers. She got engaged and married, and wore it until her son met me. I was the custodian for a while. Then when my husband and I divorced, not being direct bloodline, I had to pass it on. Victor has been the guardian ever since. Well, he was. It’s yours to pass down now. To either your son or daughter.”
"So I’m wearing the Walker legacy?" Ella murmurs.
"That you are." Mom says with a satisfied smile.
Chapter Nineteen
Ella
The blood is pounding so loud between my ears that I can hardly think straight.
This ring which Vic has fake engaged me with is a goddamn family heirloom? I already knew it was worth a fortune, but it has heavy sentimental value too?
Why give me this ring just for show? Why give me something so special to care for? It seems wrong to use a token of love so flippantly. He should have brought me a cheap ring. A throwaway ring.
Or maybe he couldn’t…
His mother would have been onto that.
She’d have been demanding the family ring was on my finger, I’m sure of it.
I turn my head and glare at Victor for putting me on the spot.
“What a lovely story. Why didn't you tell me?”
“I was saving the moment.”
Hiding it more like.
We stare silently at each other. But I guess we're thinking very different things.
His mother must sense the tension and tries to distract us. "Tell us something about your family, Ella. Where are your parents from?"
"Boston," I murmur.
"And what goes on in Boston? What do they do?"
An innocent enough question but I don't want to talk about my dad or how I lost my mom with her. Or any of these people.
Not here. Not now. Not ever.
I’m so sick of this fakeness.
&nbs
p; I want real. To be real.
That's something Vic's not about to give me. Now or anytime.
If he knew what was going on in my head, in my heart, just how much I wanted him, how hard it was denying him, how strong my feelings were growing, he’d run a mile.
That’s why I’ve withdrawn so much. That's why I’ve refused to give into him again after making that mistake once. My feelings are raw and getting worse.
And I don’t want to get hurt. Not any more than I am already.
I need this to end, this world of fakery I’m stuck in.
He can finish it tonight. After this horribly fake little party I’ve been forced to attend.
I’ve been thinking a lot over the last few days.
Re-evaluating.
Going home to my father, to escape Vic, is the only route I have left.
I'm not keen on it, but I’m taking it. It’s definitely the better of the two evils, I convince myself.
Suddenly, the room feels too crowded. Stuffy. Overwhelming.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say a little too sharply. I push back from the table, my chair scraping over the floorboards. “I’ve just got to go powder my nose.”
With that, I grab my purse and escape. I stumble out into the empty corridor of the restaurant, which Shirley, as she insists I call her, has rented out in its entirety for the party.
Thankfully, it isn’t hard to find a quiet corner to hide in.
I sink down on some stairs, beside a huge pot plant, and hug my knees against my chest. Counting to ten, I fight off the rising panic I feel, taking deep consistent breaths.
I don’t hear the sound of his soft footsteps approaching until they reach me.
My spine stiffens.
I peer up from behind my knees to see Vic before me.
He stands there, leaning against the opposite wall with his hands in his pockets and his perfectly tailored pants tight to his thighs. As much as he makes me furious, and confuses me, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Just looking at him now sends my whole body up in flames. It’s been nigh impossible to keep my hands off him since we met. But it’s not just the visual goods. It’s everything about him. The way he moves. The things he says. How my heart flips when he's around.