“Hi.” He gave me a dazzling smile. “I'm Paul.”
“Elizabeth.” I surprised myself by giving an Americanized version of my name. It wasn't an exact translation, but it was close enough. I had used the name before when someone would ask for a name and I didn't feel comfortable giving it. I wasn't sure why it came out this time, but I didn't try to correct myself. It didn't really matter. He probably wouldn't call me by a name anyway. Even in my limited experience, I knew most hook ups stuck with easy things to remember like “baby” or “babe” so they didn't accidentally use the wrong name.
“That's a great accent you have there, Elizabeth,” he said, leaning closer. “Where are you from?”
I'd forgotten how much I detested small talk in situations such as this. If I was truly trying to get to know someone, I didn't mind asking and answering questions, but I didn't see the point if we weren't going to see each other again. I supposed it was a way people had of making themselves feel more human. A fledgling attempt to make a connection with the person they were trying to bed.
I wondered if he'd be offended if I skipped all of this and asked if he just wanted to go back to his place. Based on the way he kept trying to look down my shirt, I didn't think he'd mind, but that made me reconsider the wisdom of going home with him. I definitely wasn't taking him back to the penthouse. I could only imagine trying to explain that situation. That left a hotel room or his place. I doubted he'd be willing to spring for a room we'd only be using for a short while.
I silently cursed my tendency to second guess myself when I hadn't spent my usual amount of time preparing and analyzing every aspect of the decision.
“Or we could skip all of this and just head back to my place.”
I almost sighed with relief. I should've been anticipating it, eager even, for a good lay. Instead, I was feeling like it was something I had to get over. I nodded and he grinned at me. He held out his hand. I looked at it for a second, considering, and then took it. His hand was warm, not altogether unpleasant, but there was nothing more than that.
We walked out of the bar together. The air outside was cold and I hoped he lived close. I wasn't exactly in a sexual mood and the chill wasn't helping. As we reached the crosswalk, we stopped and waited for the light to change.
“You know, Elizabeth,” he said as he pulled me to him. “You look good enough to eat.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that I instantly found annoying.
Then his mouth was coming down on mine. His lips were cold and far too soft. I tried to ignore that and lean into the kiss...
I couldn't do this.
“I am sorry,” I gasped as I pushed him away. “I must go.”
I hurried down the sidewalk before he could try to stop me, heading for the cab sitting at the corner. I ignored him calling after me, but cast a glance back at him when I was safely in the cab. Paul was still standing on the sidewalk, an incredulous look on his face, hands partway in the air like he was trying to figure out what had just happened.
Him and me both.
Katka had meant well and I had thought I could follow through, but now I knew I couldn't. When I did find someone I wanted to have a fling with, it would need to happen naturally. I couldn't force it. All I really wanted to do now was go home.
Maybe a hot bath and a little relaxation time would do me just as much good.
Chapter 7
Blayne
Livie was avoiding me.
I tried telling myself that I was just being paranoid. Our schedules weren't the same and it wasn't like we had a reason to get things synced up. If we'd been a real married couple, we would've made an effort to see each other. That wasn’t the case. We weren't in a true relationship, so there was no reason for me to think it was weird that I hadn't seen her since the night we'd had sex in the living room.
Right?
It had been easier for me to concentrate at work after that night because I'd been sure things were fine. I didn't start to worry until I got home Wednesday night and Livie wasn't there. At first, I thought she'd just eaten in her room again, burying herself in work. But when I knocked on the door to ask if she wanted to share a bottle of wine I'd just happened to pick up after work, there'd been no answer. Naturally, I'd been worried, so I'd opened the door and found her room empty.
I'd told myself I didn't need to be concerned. She was an adult. She knew how to take care of herself. Hell, we'd met because she'd taken care of me. She didn't need anyone to look out for her, especially not me. I'd never looked out for anyone but myself, and that clearly hadn’t worked out well.
As I sat down on the couch and stared aimlessly at the television, I told myself that's what I wanted to do to relax. Glancing at my phone every few minutes was just natural. So was looking at the door during every commercial break. I wasn't thinking about where Livie was or what she was doing. I wasn't concerned that something may have happened to her, or that she'd decided the other night had been a mistake too. I refused to consider she didn't want to risk it ever again and was out looking for another place to live.
I ran my hand through my hair and sighed. For the first time in weeks, I wished I had something stronger than beer. And maybe something else to take the edge off. I pulled up the contacts list on my phone. I hadn't talked to some of my friends since before my wedding, making me question if they'd ever been my friends at all. I knew that if I said the right words, they'd be here in a moment. They'd bring the good stuff and then I wouldn't be worried about Livie – or anything – at all.
It was tempting. So tempting. But if my father found out, it'd fuck up everything. I didn't doubt he had people watching the building for my friends, so the chances of him finding out were pretty good. He was dead serious when he said I would be under his radar. He would be looking for me to fuck up, would probably gloat about it too. But it wasn't the thought of losing my inheritance that stopped me. Instead, it wondered what I would do if I were high and Livie called, in trouble.
The realization hit me hard and I was still trying to figure it out when the door opened. A wave of relief washed over me as I turned and saw Livie walk in. I stood, unable to stop the way my stomach tightened at the sight of her.
She wasn't dressed in a sexy little number like she had been at the club that night, but what she was wearing was different than her usual professional attire. The skirt showed off quite a bit of those long legs and it was a testament to their perfection that it took me nearly a full thirty seconds to notice how her blouse showed off her tits. Considering how gorgeous her breasts were, both clothed and unclothed, I was surprised I managed to look away from them at all.
“Where have you been?” The question came out more harshly than I'd intended and I tried to backpedal. “I was worried about you. You weren't here when I got home.”
She raised an eyebrow at me but didn't seem annoyed by my question. “I was out.”
“Out where?” Okay, maybe I should've left well enough alone, but I was curious now. I wanted to know where she'd gone. Who she'd been with. Why.
Her expression tightened and she squared her shoulders as she walked into the living room. “I do not believe that is any of your business.”
“I'm your husband.” Wow, I just kept saying even dumber things.
She actually smirked at that. “We do not behave as husband and wife.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. I wasn't sure why her statement annoyed me, but it did. “But we both agreed there were going to be rules about how we did things. We've both got a lot at stake here. Me mostly, but if my money goes, I can't pay you either.”
She gave me a puzzled look. “Rules?”
I sighed. Did she have memory issues? Then again, she might be a master manipulator underneath that cool, beautiful façade. If she admitted to knowing about the club and our discussion about rules, then she’d have to admit to knowing what happened afterwards. Clever girl. I decided to humor her.
“We agreed we'd be discreet in our 'infidelities’, remember.”
I made air quotes with my fingers and then gestured to her outfit. “That doesn't exactly look discreet.” As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn't. Her clothes may not have been business attire, but they were far from the skimpy outfits most women wore to clubs.
She tilted her head, her expression a strange combination of confused and annoyed. “I was not aware that I needed to ask your permission to go about my personal business. If you wish to discuss boundaries regarding what we need to share with each other, that is fine, but asking for permission is out of the question.”
Shit. I hadn't meant it like that. At least not consciously. Subconsciously, however, was a different story. I wasn't going to lie and say I liked not knowing where she'd been, but I hadn't wanted her to think I was going all caveman on her either. I rubbed my hand across my chin.
“I didn't mean it that way,” I said and sighed. “You're right. We do need to talk. I think that's the problem we're having. We've spent almost a month together and the only things we've really talked about since the first night we met were the terms of our contract. This is a business deal, but we can't treat each other like strangers.” I ignored the way my stomach twisted a bit. I definitely didn't want her to be a stranger. “We need to sit down and discuss things for real. Uninterrupted and not rushed.”
“What are you proposing?” she asked.
“Well.” I stuck my hands in my pockets. “We need to talk and we should also keep up appearances for all those little spies my dad has out there, so I think we should go on a date.”
“A date?” She crossed her arms, frowning at me.
“Not a romantic date,” I said. I couldn't deny that I wanted it to be one. I wanted to go out with her… eat, drink dance, the public foreplay that ended with us falling into bed. My dick twitched and I gave it a mental slap down. One step at a time. “Just a meal eaten together in public at a quiet place where we could talk. Get to know each other. Set the boundaries we need to make this thing work.”
She studied me for a moment, her eyes narrow and searching. Finally, she nodded. “Very well. When?”
“Friday night,” I said promptly. “Unless you had other plans?”
“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “No other plans. We will go out Friday night.” She turned to walk away.
“Hey,” I called after her. She stopped and looked back at me. I didn't want to ask the question, but not knowing was worse. “Were you out on a date tonight?”
She seemed to consider the question before answering. “I went to Frankie's to have a drink.”
She didn't offer a more lengthy explanation and I didn't ask for one. This time, when she went, I let her go. I didn't think she was being completely honest, but as she'd pointed out, I really didn't have the right to ask.
On Friday, I planned to find out exactly what I could ask. And, hopefully, I could figure out what was going on with her so we could move past it. The thought of her sleeping right down the hall when I wanted her so badly was driving me nuts.
I needed a cold shower.
Chapter 8
Blayne
I worked my ass off for the next two days, even working over on Thursday so I'd be too exhausted to be plagued with dreams like I’d been Wednesday night. Today, I hadn't done that, but I had spent the day working like crazy so I wouldn't think about the possibilities of tonight. It had helped, but I'd still occasionally found myself wondering what the evening held for me.
Leaving for a date from the same apartment was a bit more awkward than meeting at a restaurant, or at least it was in this situation. I didn't have the usual prep time between getting ready and seeing my date for the first time. That was the time I generally ran through possible compliments and small talk I could use to kill time until we got around to the fun activities at the end of the night. Not that I usually did the whole ‘meeting for a date’ thing, but it had happened on occasion.
Tonight, however, when I stepped out of my bedroom in a pair of dressy jeans and a fitted long-sleeved shirt, Livie was already in the living room, waiting. She looked nice in her jeans and sweater, both of which showed off her figure, but it wasn't anything close to how she'd looked the night we'd slept together or even the way she'd looked the other night when she'd gotten back from the bar. Then, she'd been sexy, had been trying to be sexy. Tonight, she was gorgeous, but it almost seemed like she was still trying to appear professional rather than a woman casually going out with her husband. Fortunately, it fit her personality so it shouldn’t make my dad too suspicious.
“Shall we?” I asked, gesturing toward the door. She gave me a partial smile and we headed out.
I wasn't planning on drinking anything more than a glass of wine so I drove to the restaurant. We didn't talk during the ride, but I had some nice music playing, so it wasn't too quiet or awkward. I didn't mind the silence either because I wanted to wait until we were sitting down to eat before we started to talk. If we got into things now and started arguing or it went badly, we wouldn't get in to eat and I was hungry. Plus, I figured Livie was such a straight-laced person, she would die rather than make a scene in public.
I chose a nice little Mexican place where I knew the hostess and she took us through the crowded front to a quieter booth in the back. Livie and I chatted food until we ordered, but I found myself studying her every response, each little nuance of movement and word. I didn't understand this woman, how her mind or her emotions worked. She was the only woman I'd ever met that I couldn't figure out Tonight, I was determined to at least begin to understand why she ran so hot and cold with me.
“You said you wished for us to talk?” she asked as the waitress walked away. Her tone was brisk, professional. Too polite.
I shook my head. I wasn't going to go straight out. Not yet anyway. I needed a better idea of how to approach things with her.
“Not about anything specific,” I said, trying to appeal casual. “Not yet. If this is going to convince my family, I think we need to know a bit more about each other.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You do not wish to discuss what explanations we owe each other? What things we need to tell each other?”
I shrugged. So much for avoiding the elephant in the room. “Maybe we keep that simple. Our affairs are discreet. Very discreet. If we're going out to hook-up, we let the other one know, just so there's no misunderstanding. We either tell the other one we're going out or leave a note. That way we keep our stories straight and we’ll also know the other one's okay.”
She thought about it for a minute, her expression impassive. She nodded. “We needed to go out to say this?”
“Work with me here, Liv...ie.” I had no idea why I could shorten her name sometimes and not others, but I was going to play it safe for the moment. “Let's have some regular conversation and pretend like we can stand each other's company.”
Her features softened, as did her tone. “I enjoy your company, Blayne. Things have just been awkward since returning from Europe.”
I steered the conversation away from why things had been awkward. Maybe we'd get there by the end of the night, but not now. “I like your company, too, Livie. And I want us to be friends. We just have to start communicating.”
She gave me a ghost of a smile, the kind that she'd given me when we'd first met. I didn't remember much from that night, but I did remember that smile.
“What do you wish to know?” she asked, reaching for a chip.
“Well.” I let my voice take on a teasing note. “The last time I asked you for personal information, you were very clear about your thoughts on the matter.”
Now I got a real smile, one that made her eyes sparkle and my stomach twist. There was none of the lust I'd seen before, but at least there was humor and warmth.
“At the time, I thought you were simply a drunk rich kid trying to get me into bed.”
That was still technically true, except the drunk part, but I wasn't about to admit it.
“What question would you like to ask me?”
“I'm not sure,” I said. “Tell me about yourself.”
She gave me a ‘you can do better than that’ look, but humored me anyway. “My last name is not Dusek.” Her eyes took on a bit of a mischievous glint. “At least that is not the name I was born with.”
My eyebrows went up.
“It was Duseková,” she continued. “I wished to have a shorter, more Americanized name when I modeled and kept it when I moved here.”
“I'm sure my parents would've loved that,” I muttered. I could only imagine what my mother would think if I'd introduced Livie with that last name. The accent had been enough to handle.
“What else would you like to know?” she asked.
“I know you're from the Czech Republic and you told me about your business, but I don't know anything about your childhood or your family. I've told you about mine.” I grimaced. “Probably more than you want to know.”
Her smile faded and I instantly regretted my inquiry.
“You don't have to–” I began.
“It is all right,” she said. “These are the things married people should know about each other, correct?”
I felt my pulse skip a beat. I hadn't expected a simple question about her family to be so personal. I'd expected something general about her childhood, maybe stories about holidays or vacations. Not something that would make the light in her eyes dim.
“When I was seven years-old, a man broke into my house. He became angry when my parents could not give him the money he wanted.”
I really regretted asking about her family now. There was no way this had a happy ending.
“He shot my father first, then my mother when she moved to protect us.” Her voice was flat, as if she felt she could share the events, but not her feelings about them. “Our neighbor was a member of the police force and came as soon as he heard the shots. He was not in time to save my parents, but killed the man before we could be… harmed.” She looked down as the waitress put our plates in front of us. As the woman walked away, Livie continued, “We were sent to live in an orphanage as we had no other family.”
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