Twisted Affair: The Complete Series Box Set

by Parker, M. S.

  After all, why would a handsome, rich, charming man need to buy a wife if he was as nice and sweet as Livie claimed? I'd been trying to get her to see that, but my plan wasn't working so far.

  She'd actually gotten so angry at me during her honeymoon that she'd refused to speak to me after the first couple days. I'll admit that maybe skipping her wedding and constantly asking if Blayne was hitting on her or sleeping around probably hadn't been the best approach, but it had been done out of love. I was simply trying to make her see what she refused to see. More drastic measures had been called for after she'd stopped taking my calls.

  Today was the first day I would see my sister in three weeks. She'd called me yesterday and asked if we could meet for lunch. It was the middle of her first week back from her honeymoon and I wondered if that meant, as soon as they'd gotten back to Philadelphia, Blayne had shown his true colors.

  My stomach knotted just thinking about it. I didn't want Livie to get hurt, but better now than later. It wasn't like I wanted Blayne to turn out to be an ass. He actually seemed like a half-decent guy, but when it came to my sister, I wasn't messing around.

  Livie and I met at our favorite diner, a little place that had once been a trolley car. It wasn't exactly near our apartment, so we didn't go often – plus Livie hated to spend money on eating out since she felt it was a waste – but it was the place we always went to when there was something important or special going on. That was one of the reasons I had a knot in my stomach when I walked inside and saw Livie sitting in our usual booth, a strange expression on her face.

  “I ordered your usual,” she said as I walked over. “Cinnamon bun with icing and pancakes with strawberry syrup.”

  Breakfast for lunch or dinner. One of the reasons it was our favorite. In the orphanage where we'd grown up, breakfast had always been porridge and dry toast. Powdered eggs on special occasions. It had been too expensive to give us anything else. We never starved, but there was never much to enjoy either. One of the things I loved the most about being self-reliant was the ability to choose a variety of things to eat, specifically for breakfast.

  “You do not appear to have been sleeping well,” I observed as I slid into the seat across from my sister.

  She glared at me. “I am finalizing my business proposal and want it to be perfect. That tends to be stressful.”

  “Are you sure that is all?” I asked. While I might delight in teasing my sister, when it came to the important things, I didn't believe in dancing around a topic. “Your marriage is not causing you problems?”

  Livie sighed and my heart sank. Here it came. I'd known it was inevitable, but it didn't mean I didn't feel bad for her anyway. I also felt a twinge of guilt for my role in things. Well, more than a twinge. After all, this was partially my fault. I'd been telling her what a bad idea this was, but I should have done more to stop her from going into this ridiculous arrangement in the beginning.

  “I need to talk to you without you interrupting,” she said. Her expression was serious.

  I'd meant what I said. She looked tired. Her make-up had been carefully applied, but I knew her well enough to still see the slight shadows under her eyes. Her face was more pale than normal and her usually pristine hairstyle had a few strands out of place. Most people wouldn't have thought anything of it, but I wasn't most people.

  “I will do my best,” I said.

  “I may have behaved rashly.”

  I raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything, proof that I could control myself.

  “Marrying Blayne... may have been a mistake.”

  Her voice was even and there had been only the slightest hesitation, but I knew how much it cost her to say those words.

  “What happened?” I reached across the table and touched her hand.

  She glanced up as the waitress came with our food and waited until the other woman left before answering my question.

  “He has not tried anything improper.” She frowned as she picked up her fork. “Not exactly.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked as I poured liberal amounts of syrup over my pancakes.

  “While we were on our honeymoon, we barely saw each other,” she said. “He was polite, if distant. He made no advances, he was a perfect gentleman and held up his side of our agreement. He didn’t even come home drunk or smelling of perfume, which I would have expected.”

  I didn't tell her that just because he didn't smell like he'd been with another woman didn't mean it hadn't happened. He'd probably just been careful, not wanting to upset her.

  She must have seen my thoughts on my face, though, because she defended herself anyway. “I am not unintelligent, Katka. We do not have that kind of marriage if I need remind you.”

  I shrugged, thankful I had a mouthful of food as an excuse not to answer her. She was smart, but when it came to men, I thought her brain fell asleep at the wheel.

  “I believe that he forced himself to be faithful during our honeymoon,” she reiterated. “Not that it should matter, after all. But something has changed since we’ve gotten home.”

  I tensed. Here it was.

  “Sunday morning, he tried to kiss me.”

  I frowned. That hadn't been what I expected.

  “That is not even the strangest part,” she continued, correctly interpreting my expression as confusion, but not the cause of it. “He seemed surprised when I pushed him away and then, believe it or not, he claimed we had slept together.”

  I swore silently and asked out loud, “Did you?”

  “Of course not.”

  If looks could kill, then the one Livie gave me would have ended my life right then.

  “Then why did he say it?” I asked, careful to keep my voice steady. Livie was feeling sensitive about the subject and the wrong tone could make her upset with me. I didn't want that.

  “I do not know.” She let out a sigh and took a few bites of her chicken sandwich.

  I ate and waited for her to be ready to talk again. I had a million questions bouncing around in my head, but refrained from asking any of them. I knew my sister. She'd want to tell me things in her own time. Still, I couldn't help but wonder what she must be thinking. Did she suspect him of having an affair? If so, why would she care? Did she like him more than she wanted to admit?

  “I thought, perhaps, he had dreamed we had slept together,” she said, a thoughtful expression on her face.

  “A logical thought,” I agreed half-heartedly. I didn't believe that was the motivation behind his claim, but I would let Livie say what she needed to say before I offered any explanation of my own.

  “Then it happened again.” She appeared more troubled by this second incident. “He did not attempt to kiss me or touch me, but he spoke to me about us having had sex in the living room Monday night after he came home after work.”

  “Do you believe he is lying to try to get you to sleep with him?” I couched it as a question rather than telling her I thought it was part of his seduction plan.

  “I do not know,” she said, her annoyance clear in her voice. “I do not like the thought that he is playing some sort of game. He has been honest with me before this.”

  “Livie.” I kept my tone gentle. “How well do you actually know him? You have seen him on his best behavior, trying to get what he wants.”

  “I refuse to believe that,” she said firmly.

  I suppressed a scowl. What would it take for her to give up on this foolish marriage? The suspicions should have been enough. Did Livie care enough about him to even care if he was cheating? Was monogamy even something she cared about? Would she actually need to catch him in the act to walk away? Or would it only be after he broke his word and took his advances a step too far? I didn't want to see either one happen. They would both hurt her. Livie appeared to be strong, and in many ways she was. Just not when it came to her heart.

  “Do you know what you need?” I decided on another course of action. “You need to get laid.”

  “Katka!�
�� Livie snapped at me.

  I didn't let her offended tone stop me. “Hear me out.” I held up a hand to stop whatever protest was coming. “Perhaps Blayne believes that since you have not made arrangements to fulfill certain needs, he thinks you are waiting for him.”

  She scowled but didn't argue. “You believe I am sending out signals of some kind?”

  I nodded. That was as good an explanation as any. “Maybe. It may be possible that he sees your availability as being desire for him rather than your normal self-imposed celibacy.”

  “That is not what I do,” she countered.

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “Finish your thought, little Kat.”

  I didn't press the matter. She was already going to completely hate what I was about to say. I didn't need her fuming over something else entirely.

  “I believe that, tonight, you should go out and find someone to hook up with.”

  She stared at me, her mouth dropped open in surprise. “While I do not judge you, Katka,” she said. “You know I do not sleep with strangers on a whim.”

  “Not a whim,” I corrected. “On purpose. First, you are wound so tightly that it is a wonder you have not cracked.” She didn't appear to appreciate my assessment, but I continued anyway, “You need to relieve stress.”

  “I am perfectly capable of doing that on my own,” she muttered, her cheeks turning pink.

  “Not as well as a man can,” I said. “Well, a good man,” I amended. “It does not matter. Even if the man is bad in bed, the encounter will still accomplish the most important purpose.”

  “And what is that?” she asked skeptically.

  “It will show Blayne that your marriage is nothing but business and you do not desire to sleep with him and that you don’t care who he sleeps with either. This will be proof that your needs are being met elsewhere and your heart is not involved.”

  “He already knows that this is business,” she said.

  “Then why has he been pursuing you?”

  She swore softly in Czech and I knew she would agree to do as I suggested. She might not believe me, but I knew that Blayne seeing her come back to the apartment after a satisfying sexual experience would convince him that he should no longer make passes at her.

  I pushed aside the guilt I felt. I wasn't ruining her marriage, I told myself. This was what was best for everyone involved and had nothing to do with my own feelings on the subject. Blayne was no good for my sister…or me.

  Chapter 6

  Livie

  As much as I hated my sister's suggestion, I thought there might be a chance she was right. And, no matter how small, I owed it to myself to try it out. The idea of going to some random club or bar and finding a guy to take back home to have sex with didn't particularly appeal to me, but it did seem like the easiest solution to the sex problem. It absolutely would prove a point.

  I laughed as I walked to the bus stop. Sex problem. That wasn't a phrase that was generally a part of my thought process. In fact, sex wasn't something I thought of much at all. At least it hadn't been, until recently. Being apart from Blayne on our honeymoon had kept me from thinking about it, more or less. The only time the subject had come up had been when people had heard we were on our honeymoon. But then we'd come back to Philadelphia and he'd started with this whole strange thing about us sleeping together.

  After that, I'd started thinking about sex more than usual. More specifically, sex with Blayne. It was no longer only annoyance at the deceit or whatever it was Blayne was trying to pull. No, his insistence that we'd had sex made me wonder what sex with him would be like. And it happened at the weirdest moments. It would probably be normal to fantasize about him late at night, when I was ready to fall asleep. But I'd be in the middle of sketching out a new design when I'd started thinking about what I'd like to design for Blayne to wear. Something that would show off his body... until I tore everything off of him and threw him down on the bed...

  Fuck.

  That was exactly the problem I'd been having. One thought, no matter how innocent, would start a toppling effect where things became non-innocent fast. I wasn't even entirely sure if I wanted to have an affair to show Blayne I wasn't interested in him, or if I was hoping it would stop the repetitive thoughts of sex and help me regain focus. I was all for a healthy sex life, but it was getting in the way of my work, and that was exactly what I didn't want. If I had wanted to put my career second to sex, I would've done so through a relationship rather than fantasies about a virtual stranger.

  The penthouse was empty when I got there, but that didn't surprise me. Part of Blayne's agreement with his father had involved employment. I knew Blayne was now working at one of his family's businesses, but I didn't know which one. He hadn't seemed happy about the situation and I hadn't wanted to pry. He did, however, maintain regular hours now, which meant he wouldn't be back for at least another few hours. If I was going to do this, I didn't want to explain what I planned to do. Not because I thought it was any of his business or because I believed he would be upset with my intentions, but rather because I didn't enjoy discussing my personal life with anyone, much less talking about sex with someone I’d only known a few weeks.

  I tried to work for the next couple hours, but my lunch with Katka hadn't made things better. If anything, they were worse. I kept worrying about tonight, about where I would go and what I would do. Where was the best place to meet someone? What kind of man did I want to meet? Businessman? Graduate student? Did I really care about what he did or did I simply want to do something I'd never done before and focus on appearance? I didn't like to think of myself as a superficial person, but if I was going to have a one-night stand, I had to admit I was leaning toward physical attraction rather than the type of person he was. I wasn't planning on staying around afterwards or spending more time with him.

  Finally, as afternoon turned to evening and it neared the time when Blayne would normally arrive home, I made my decision. I would take my sister's advice and go out.

  I approached my attire the same way I did anything else, with logic rather than what I thought looked 'sexy’. My first choice had been skinny jeans, but then I realized that if I did pick someone up, shimmying out of those jeans to have sex, then having to put them back on would be more difficult than something that required less maneuvering. I traded those out for an easy access skirt, and then set to work finding a blouse that would match and be visually appealing.

  By the time I finished, I was sure Blayne would be home, but he wasn't in the living room or kitchen when I walked by. I hurried out and, a few minutes later, was in front of the building, looking for a cab. While I had never minded taking the bus to and from work before, I had to admit that I enjoyed the luxury of taking a cab, especially on a cold February evening.

  I hadn't been sure where I was going until I got into the cab and gave the address. Unlike my sister, I did not spend time involved in Philadelphia's club scene. I knew some of the names, of course, from having referred customers to one place or another, depending on where I had worked, but my personal experiences had been limited to bars and restaurants. I think I'd been to one or two in the past three years, but only with Katka at my side. I was a confident person in most areas of my life, but in a situation like this, I was going to err on the side of being comfortable. Or, at least as comfortable as possible. That meant heading toward familiar ground.

  I hadn't been back to Frankie's since the night I'd quit. Now, I was walking in as a patron, not an employee and I had to admit it felt good. Aside from knowing that I could afford to get a drink and not have to worry about how much it cost, I also knew that I wouldn't have to put up with the wandering hands and leering looks from men. Oh, I was sure there would be men like that, but my job would not be in jeopardy if I slapped someone for being overly friendly.

  It was odd, I thought how people looked at me differently when I wasn't behind the bar. It might also have been that I was dressed much fancier than when I'd worked ther
e or that the woman I assumed was my replacement was a busty brunette wearing a tight and low-cut shirt that was garnering a lot of attention.

  There was another funny thing. I recognized the man who was also behind the bar but when I approached him, his expression showed no recognition. I wasn't surprised though, because I wasn't entirely sure what his name was either. Brent or Brett. We hadn't worked together that often, and we'd barely spoken when we had. It wasn't like we'd been rude to each other, but I'd always kept to myself while he enjoyed interacting with the customers.

  I ordered beer and took a seat at the bar. I scanned the crowd, wondering how long it would be until someone approached or if I would have to initiate things. I didn't like doing that, but that was mostly because I didn't like the impression it gave about me, and since I wasn't looking for a relationship, it didn't really matter. Time was more important at the moment. I didn't want to be up too late.

  I didn't have to wait long. A stocky man with a full beard sauntered over to me, beer sloshing in his glass. I smelled the man before he was close enough for me to hear him and knew there was no way I was going home with him.

  “Hey, there, pretty lady,” he slurred.

  I gave him a polite but cold smile. “I am not interested.”

  “Come on,” he wheedled. “I got money.”

  I rolled my eyes. I couldn't even count the number of times I had men thinking I was a prostitute simply because of my accent. They were a whole different kind of bigot.

  “Move along,” I said.

  “Bitch,” he muttered. But, he went on, looking for another woman he could harass.

  “Some people just don't know when someone's out of their league.”

  I turned to see a new man sitting on the bar stool next to me. He was attractive, though not as much as Blayne. I mentally shook myself and pushed thoughts of Blayne out of my head. I didn't want to think about how his sandy brown hair and dark gray eyes were different from the golden blond hair and chocolate brown eyes of the man smiling at me.