“That’s all true.”
“You’re not investing in these companies. You’re investing in the people.”
“Well, businesses don’t run without people. I vet them thoroughly, which is why I’m so confident in my portfolio.” Beau slid the end of his tie through his hand. “As a result, the returns have been staggering.”
“Beau,” Glenn said, dropping his smile. “Be straight with me. I looked into your background. It took some digging, but I found that yearly conference thing you do. You never mentioned it before.”
“It’s no secret that Bolt Ventures sponsors Entrepreneurs in Tech.”
“Not just sponsors. You and your company put it on, every last detail.”
Beau nodded slightly. In fact, he’d even helped design the conference’s lunch menu, since he’d been the one paying for it. “It’s important. To us. And me.”
“What I don’t understand is why your name wasn’t front and center on the project. What do you get out of it if not publicity? What’s your concern with young, struggling entrepreneurs like the ones behind these companies you endow?”
Beau released his tie. He had answers prepared for everything. He liked having the right response, one he’d perfected over the years based on people’s reactions. He never lied, but how you said things was sometimes more important than what you said. People picked up on keywords, tone, delivery.
Churchill wasn’t responding to that. He valued truth and authenticity. Those were things Glenn’d seen in Lola, and they were the reasons she’d ‘stuck with him.’ Beau knew how that went. She’d stuck to Beau like glue, and he was beginning to think he wouldn’t get to just shrug her off like he’d hoped.
“I know what it’s like to struggle for something that might never happen.” Beau spoke carefully. Weakness wasn’t something he talked about if he could help it. “I also know what it’s like to have someone take a chance on me only to have them turn around and virtually incinerate all my work.”
“You’re talking about VenTech?”
“Yes. When they bought my website ten years ago, they assured me they’d take it to the next level. Since they offered me more than it was worth, and I was eager to start another venture, I was hasty to accept. They didn’t volunteer the fact that one of their private subsidiaries was an up-and-coming competitor of mine. They picked my work apart until it was a carcass.”
“You came out on top, though. I read all about it. You got more out of that deal than you should’ve.”
“If I hadn’t sold it, my website would’ve destroyed the competition. George Wright, the founder, looked me in the eye and told me I could trust him, though.” Beau paused. He couldn’t remember a time in the last ten years when he hadn’t been tracking VenTech’s stock, waiting for the company to stumble. “I guess back then, it wasn’t all about the money.” It felt more like an admission to himself than to the mayor. It’d been a while since his fortune hadn’t sat in the number one spot on his list of priorities.
“So that’s why you put on the conference?” Glenn asked. “To prevent others from making the same mistakes?”
Beau had his go-to response ready—he funded the convention because the young entrepreneurs of Los Angeles were America’s tomorrow. But instead, he gave Churchill the real reason. “I never forgot how it felt when those bastards trashed years of blood, sweat and tears. Yes, I do it to provide entrepreneurs with the resources I didn’t have, either because they don’t know about them or can’t afford them. Even though I came out on top in my deal, perhaps with proper legal help, I could’ve put that company on a better course.”
Glenn nodded knowingly. “I understand. A man never gets the taste of his first real failure out of his mouth. Not with money, not with revenge.” He frowned. “I’ll be honest, I was reluctant to take this meeting. People are always coming to me with what I can do for them. Not what they can do for Los Angeles.”
“I’ve always been upfront with you about the fact that I’m a businessman first, but entrepreneurial growth in Los Angeles benefits us all in the long term. And that starts with a conversation about tax reform.”
“When you cut the bullshit, Olivier, you’re all right. People like me, we see a lot of crap. Men putting me on, getting me a drink here and there, trying to shake my hand, hungry smiles, wives slobbering on men who aren’t their husbands. It’s a breath of fresh air to see this side of you. And I know where it’s coming from.”
“I’m sorry?”
“We’ve talked here and there at events. Seen you in the tabloids with women too. You’re different with Lola.”
Was he different? Or was Churchill under Lola’s spell, the way Beau had been? Who was he kidding—Beau was still under her spell. He fought himself not to look at his watch. He hadn’t forgotten that Lola might still be walking home.
Beau opened his mouth to tell Churchill he was right—Beau was a changed man, and it was all because of the amazing woman at his side. It wasn’t exactly a lie. Beau had been different with her. “She’s…”
Glenn tilted his head. “Yes?”
Beau could easily ignore everything they’d just discussed and take the easy route. But Churchill was a good guy who deserved the truth. “She’s not too happy with me at the moment,” Beau admitted. “We had an argument, and it’s—well, things between us are—over.”
“I see.” Glenn took his mug by the handle but didn’t drink. He just squinted at Beau. “I’m not all that surprised, actually. I don’t mean this as an insult to you but a compliment to her—it would take a certain kind of man to hang on to a woman like that. Do you think you’re that man?”
Beau had no doubt he was. If he wanted Lola as his own, for good, he could have her. There was no question about that—he’d done it once, and no matter how much work it would be, he could do it again. Beau was a better man than Johnny—and fuck, he was certainly a better man for Lola than Johnny.
“Yes,” Beau said. “Lola and I are—” What did he want to say? Not that they were a perfect fit. Maybe that they were both hard to handle, both impossible to hang on to, but that if anyone could, it would be each other.
“Look,” Churchill said. “Can I give you some advice? Don’t be an idiot. Whatever you did, make it right. If Lola truly is like my wife, which I suspect she is, she needs someone who won’t be deterred by anything. And those kinds of men are few and far between.”
Beau hadn’t been deterred by anything yet. Not Johnny, not Lola’s resistance to his offer, not the fact that in order to win her love and win his game, he’d had to open up to her in a way he never had to anyone—not even Brigitte, who was like family.
Beau only focused on challenges that held a prize worthy of everything he had. He’d wanted his pride back. He’d wanted to redeem himself of the one failure he’d never overcome. But now it began to dawn on Beau—maybe he’d made the mistake of ignoring what was truly at stake. And maybe he’d been fighting for the wrong prize all along.
Chapter 32
The front door of Lola’s apartment was unlocked, and she walked right in.
Johnny sprang instantly from the couch. “The sun’s been up over an hour.” He met her at the door, clasping her shoulders. “Are you all right?”
She looked into his earnest face. His concern was clear, but it was also overdue. Any number of things could’ve happened to Lola overnight. She could’ve been kidnapped by a crazy gunman and whisked away in a pricey sports car. She could’ve encountered a stilted admirer from ten years ago who’d never let go of his grudge. Considering whom she and Johnny were dealing with, being late at all was actually a perfectly valid cause for alarm.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“I was worried. I thought about calling the cops.”
“Did you?”
“Well…no.” His eyebrows lowered. “What would I have told them?”
Maybe that she’d spent the night with the devil himself?
“I don’t know,” she said, wriggling ou
t of his grip. The glass coffee table shook when she set the package of money on it. She stretched her aching arms and rolled her wrists. “We got into an argument. I refused a ride, so I walked.”
“From where?”
“The hotel.”
Johnny cocked his head. “He took you to a hotel? Doesn’t he live in L.A.?”
Lola stared at him a moment. Johnny was a pretty big guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Beau, but he was meatier. He should’ve been the one to keep her safe in the gas station, but he hadn’t even been there. She would’ve been there for Johnny. She never would’ve let him go off with a stranger. All so he could buy a fucking bar.
She was already heated from her walk. The more she’d thought about all the wrongs done to her by both men, the faster she’d strode and the higher her temper had risen. She knew what she had to do—what she wanted to do—but in all her anger, she hadn’t stopped to figure this part out yet.
She turned away from Johnny, and her eyes landed on several days’ worth of mail scattered on the counter. She’d start there. She walked over and sorted quickly through it, grabbing anything addressed to her.
“Was the hotel nearby at least?” Johnny asked.
“Beverly Hills.”
“That’s miles away.”
She was well aware. She returned to the coffee table and dropped some envelopes next to the cash.
“I would’ve picked you up,” Johnny said, following her from room to room. “You should’ve called.”
She faced him, and her heart clenched. He could be so clueless. His simplicity was one of the things she loved about him except when she needed him to not be that. Like now, when what she was about to do would be that much harder because he had no idea it was coming.
She wrung her hands. “Johnny—”
He waited. “Yeah?”
Her heartbeat ping-ponged at the same rate as her thoughts. There was no right way to say I care about you, but you screwed me over, but I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t stay here anymore. Was it fair that maybe some small part of her might want to hurt him for this? Did she even owe him an explanation? Had he just sat here on his ass all night, staring at a wall as she’d been bound, fucked, wooed, robbed, loved and then broken? Her chest stuttered with a deep breath, her fear ebbing slightly as anger took over again.
“I couldn’t call you,” she said. “My purse was stolen last night, and my phone was in it.”
“Stolen? What the hell happened?” He let her pass to the bedroom. “Lola, for God’s sake, stop moving around and talk to me.”
She turned around. It was a plea, not an order, but she was tired of being told what to do. Just because Johnny didn’t do things the same way as Beau didn’t mean he hadn’t also treated her like a pawn. Not giving her a straight answer, forcing her to make the decision for both of them—that was how he’d manipulated her. She hadn’t seen it clearly at the time, but now it was all she saw.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she said, her eyes narrowed.
He pulled back a little. “What? I’m not. I just want you to slow down, and tell me what’s going on.”
“Why should I? Do you honestly care how my night went?”
He raised his eyebrows and scoffed in a way that sounded like a laugh—as though she’d made a joke. “Of course I care. What kind of a question is that? You’re acting like—” He stopped. His neck reddened around the collar of his T-shirt. “Holy shit. Did you…did he give you something?”
Beau had given her lots of things. Almost as many as he’d taken. But she didn’t think that was what Johnny meant. “Like what?”
“You’re not yourself. You can’t stand still, and you look at me like you don’t recognize me. No matter how long it’s been, I haven’t forgotten how you get when you’re high.”
Her mouth fell open. High? She wasn’t high. She was pissed. Johnny would jump to that conclusion at the first sign of her old self. Spending two nights with Beau had reminded her of the girl she used to be. As Beau had embraced that about her, it became clearer that Johnny never had. He didn’t like her wild.
The accusation was so offensive, she couldn’t even deny it. The man she loved acted as though he didn’t even know her. If she’d changed over the years, maybe he had too. Or maybe it was that she’d cared so fiercely about him, was so grateful to him, that she hadn’t seen the truth. He wasn’t etched into her heart, woven into her soul. She didn’t feel him in her every movement—it wasn’t his love that coursed through her veins like blood.
She went to the hallway closet and slid a cardboard box from the top shelf.
“What’re you doing?” he asked.
She crouched, lifted the lid and fingered through some folders until she found one labeled Important Papers—Lola. She took it, along with her passport and a credit card she’d filed away earlier that year when she and Johnny had opened a joint account.
“Did you hear me?” he persisted. “I asked what the fuck you’re on.”
She stood up. The papers rustled as she clutched them. “I’m not high, and you have no right to ask me that.”
“I have every right. It’s the only explanation. It’s just like those nights you used to come into Hey Joe after an especially rough shift.”
Her mouth tingled, bitterness on her tongue. She’d barely been an adult back then—she’d fucked up just like every other teenager. Why was she paying for those mistakes now? Everything in her body was tight, and if he kept plucking at her, she would snap.
“Look at you—you’re shaking,” Johnny said. “Your eyes are watering, your hair’s a mess—”
“My eyes are watering from lack of sleep and because cars have been kicking dirt into my face for the last hour. I’m shaking because I just carried five hundred thousand dollars over two miles.”
“If I’d known, I would’ve picked you up. I told you that. Don’t take it out on me.”
As if he hadn’t played a role in any of this. As if her anger was completely out of left field. “Fuck you, Johnny. Just fuck you.”
His eyes doubled in size. “Fuck me? Why?”
“You know why.” She continued to their room and grabbed a duffel bag from the closet.
“You come in here like a tornado, get me all worked up and say fuck me?”
“You used me. Both of you.” She was practically shuddering now. “Everybody got what they wanted, even me, but at what price?”
Johnny threw both hands in the air. “Seriously, what the fuck? That’s completely unfair. We made every decision together.”
“I made every decision. By myself. I had to decide how much money I was worth.”
“Bullshit. We both knew it was just an exchange. It was never about what you were worth. I didn’t ask you to do this.”
“You didn’t ask me not to.” She ripped articles of clothing off their hangers and stuffed them into the bag. “What choice did I have? If I’d said no, you would’ve always resented me for the life we could’ve had. I did this for us.”
“And you didn’t enjoy it at all, did you?” His lips compressed into a line. “You practically jumped at the chance do it again.”
Her throat closed. He wasn’t wrong—she’d been clinging to the lie that she hadn’t wanted to go back to Beau. What did that make her? What did that make Johnny? If he’d even suspected she’d wanted this and he still hadn’t stopped her, then he’d gambled with her.
“Just admit that you liked it,” he said. “A million-dollar price tag made you feel pretty damn special.”
“Special?” She could barely get the word out, her head burning like her entire body was on fire. She slammed her fists on the bed. “You think having two men use me to boost their egos is special? I have a stranger’s cum on my pants and more money than I know what to do with. Does that make me special?”
“Jesus Christ.” Johnny staggered back. “Like I need that fucking mental image.”
“Yeah?” She grabbed a stack of his jeans from a shelf
and threw them on the ground. “Well, at least you didn’t live through it!”
“I did live through it,” he said. “Except I had to use my imagination. All the things he was getting for his money. Tell me what they were, Lola. Why you? What did you give him that someone else couldn’t?”
She shook her head. He had no idea the mental images she could give him—like the one where Beau had seduced her in to fucking him every which way while he plotted how to hurt her the most. “You don’t know what you’re asking for. You can’t handle details.”
“Try me.”
“I know you, Johnny. Just let it go. It’s not worth—”
“I can handle it,” he said, raising his voice. “What was he like? Was it better? What did you let him do?”
Lola’s body tightened at just the threat of a memory. As if she’d had any control over what Beau did to her. Once the sun went down, her body had become his. It’d breathed for him, thrummed for him, come for him. And he’d been thorough with each inch of her, leaving no part untouched.
“Everything,” she said levelly.
He shook his head hard. “I don’t believe you.”
“Everything one man can do to one woman, he did to me. My mouth, my pussy, my ass. He had it all.”
“You let him—?” Johnny reached back, grasping at nothing. “But you never…you wouldn’t—for years I’ve asked you for that. He got it in two nights?”
“That’s what you sold him. Don’t act like you didn’t know. You were there for the negotiation.”
“And you promised me you were safe—that he didn’t force you into anything.”
She’d protected Johnny too long. No matter what he thought, he hadn’t lived through what she had. He had to accept his share of the blame for everything that’d happened the last few weeks. “He didn’t take a thing, Johnny. He waited for me to come to him, and I did. I gave him what he wanted.”
“Liar,” he said. “You can enjoy it, but you can’t want it. That’s not fair.”
“It wasn’t just sex for me. It was more.”
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