by Dori Lavelle
No. I won’t do that. I have sacrificed too much to come here. It can’t all be for nothing.
I close my eyes briefly and open them again, then I grab the handle and push the door open. The evening air is cool against my skin. The soft breeze sweeps through the hairs at the back of my head that had escaped from my high ponytail. Only hours ago, Neal LaClaire’s breath had teased the same hairs.
The only time I look to the right and left is when I cross the road to the other side.
The reporters spot me immediately and abandon their camouflage. Their questions fly past my ears as I push past them and run into the building. I only stop when I’m inside the staff room of the bar.
My heart is thudding so hard it’s as if a rock is being thrown at my chest over and over again.
There are other ladies in the room, but as soon as I enter, their conversations stop. It’s an easy guess what they were talking about.
Some of them mumble a greeting at me before leaving to get to work or go home.
I lower myself into a chair and keep my head on my knees and my eyes shut until I feel the emptiness in the room.
I look up to find I’m not alone after all. Lucy, a twenty-one-year-old curvy blonde, is standing by the door, eyes on me.
“Everyone knows,” I say. It’s a fact, not a question.
Lucy closes the door. “Are you okay?”
“Actually, no.” I tuck in my upper lip. “My ass is on the cover of a magazine, probably more of them now. And everyone is calling me a prostitute.” I wedge my hands between my knees and meet her gaze. “I assume I was the topic of discussion when I walked in.” I raise an eyebrow.
“No one is judging. It’s just . . . the video was a surprise, that’s all.”
My heart seems to stop for a moment. “What video?”
Without a word, Lucy looks down at the cellphone in her hand, then gives it to me.
The moment I see the all too familiar scene on the small screen, my head starts to spin. “Take it away . . . please.”
“I’m sorry. I just thought you should know, to be prepared.” Lucy’s face is genuine and kind.
“Thanks.” I wring my hands in my lap as silence stretches between us. “Do you think I still have my job? Is Maximo angry?”
“I don’t think so. He looked pleased actually. He has been in one of his best moods since yesterday. But you might want to have a talk with him to be sure.” She places a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Scandals have a short shelf life.” She glances at the door. “I need to go and get some people drunk.”
As soon as she leaves, I go to Maximo. The other girls call him Max, but I’m not quite there yet.
“You didn’t waste any time, did you?” he says as soon as I enter. “A few days working here, and you already fucked one of my big fish customers.”
“I’m sorry.” I swallow hard and peel my gaze from his. “It won’t happen again. I’m not a—”
“Quit apologizing.” He gets up from his chair and pours both of us a glass of white wine. “It might help with the nerves.”
“You’re not mad at me?”
He downs his drink, stopping only when the glass is empty. “Why should I be? You were just doing your job. It’s time this place got some decent publicity anyway. The free kind is even better.”
Unsure how to feel about his reaction, I push myself out of my chair and put the untouched glass of wine on the desk. “I should get started with work.”
He pushes his hands into his pockets and watches me go to the door. “He came looking for you,” he says suddenly.
“Who?”
“Neal LaClaire. You must have made quite an impression on him. Make sure he comes here more often, all right? And encourage him to invite his rich friends.”
“We’re not together.”
“You never know what the future holds. Now get to work.”
His words repeat inside my head long after we end our conversation. He came looking for you.
I want desperately to deny that Neal LaClaire made any kind of impact on me in just one night, that his decision to come looking for me means nothing, but when Maximo said those words, something unfurled in the pit of my stomach, something pleasant, an uninvited guest in my chaotic life.
14
Neal
It’s been two days since I got Eva’s contact details from her slimy boss. As soon as I’d left The Little Black Dress, I’d gone straight to the address he gave me. I made it all the way to her doorstep but didn’t have the courage to ring the bell. Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure I was doing the right thing. I walked away without her even knowing I was ever there.
Today is Friday, three days after I messed up Eva’s life and betrayed the memory of my wife. While I hid like a damn coward inside my hotel suite, every major gossip magazine called her a whore. It took watching the viral video of us fucking in the elevator for me to snap out of my cowardice.
I’ve just had breakfast and I’m sprawled on the couch, replaying the video, disgusted by the comments popping up below it.
I can’t sit here and do nothing. I’m responsible for everything that has happened. I need to undo the damage to both our reputations. Robert Liska—our family lawyer—will go after whoever leaked the video and distributed sexual images without our consent, but I still feel the need to do more.
I spend the day doing nothing but fighting the urge to return to her place and make things right in whatever way I can. Shortly after 4:00 p.m., I lose the battle and get in my car.
I don’t ring the bell. I don’t give her a call to let her know I’m outside. I simply wait, God knows for what. After what feels like a lifetime of waiting, she exits the building and I almost storm out of the car when I see a reporter get in her way, pestering her for information. But something inside me holds me back from approaching her. What if I’m the last person she wants to see right now? It’s not as if I can undo what happened.
Yet, I follow her past the slot machines leading to the purple entrance of The Little Black Dress, but don’t follow her inside. This is her workplace. I need to respect that.
I return to my hotel room until an hour before midnight, the time she ended her shift three days ago. I get into my car and wait for her to leave the building, hoping she hasn’t left early. Every second I agonize over what I’ll say to her, what I can do to take the sting off the pain of humiliation.
Any time now, her shift will be over. I need to talk to her, even if it’s just to apologize for what happened. I should have been more responsible. I should have held my dick in check long enough to at least get her to my room first before pouncing on her.
My phone rings. I don’t bother to see who’s calling. I’ve had the press hounding me at all hours of the day. Ignoring the call, I make a mental note to change my number.
The phone stops ringing only to start again. I pick it up so I can switch it off. Linda Smith, my personal assistant’s name, flashes across the screen. She’s been working for me for five years, and she’s the only assistant I’ve had who works these kinds of hours.
My eyes still on the hotel, I respond.
“Linda, you should stop working overtime. We talked about this.”
“Why?” She laughs. “You pay so well for overtime, and I have nothing better to do tonight anyway.”
“How about sleeping?”
“I can sleep when I’m dead.” In her mid-thirties and with no husband or kids to spend time with, Linda puts all her energy into her job. “I’m calling about your trip to Vienna. Have you decided whether you’re going? I need to notify Leon Schneider’s PA. As far as they know, you’re going to be at the meeting.”
Since I own enough self-defense schools in America, I would like to expand my business not only abroad, but also into the fitness industry. Austria is my first target, and fitness empire giant, Leon Schneider, is the man to make things happen.
I narrow my eyes as I focus on The Millennium Hotel, the place that houses The
Little Black Dress.
Reporters are swarming around the entrance. I hate that even though it has come out that Eva works as a cocktail waitress, they still won’t stop calling her a prostitute.
“Neal, are you still there?” She used to call me Mr. LaClaire until I put a stop to it. Like my brothers, I prefer an informal working relationship with my employees.
I nod. “I haven’t decided yet, Linda. I’ll let you know in the morning.”
“But it’s important. I also need to make arrangements for your accommodations.”
“Expect a call from me tomorrow morning.” I rub the tension from my brow. “I have to go.”
“All right.” Linda clears her throat. “Do you want me to do anything about the—”
“No,” I say quickly. “I’m taking care of it.”
“Oh, okay.” She pauses. “I’ll wait for your call about Vienna.”
The moment I hang up the phone, I see Eva stepping out of the building, head bowed, shoulders slumped forward as she tries to make herself small.
A dagger of regret slams into my chest at the thought that I’m the reason for her misery. I won’t be a coward tonight. I have to talk to her.
I consider getting out of my car to meet her halfway to hers, which is parked two blocks away. My hand is on the door handle when I change my mind and let it go again. Being seen together could fire up the reporters.
I change my mind again when I see four men surround her, microphones pointed to her face.
Eva shakes her head from side to side. I don’t have to see her tears to know they’re on her cheeks. She starts to walk faster and they follow on her heels. Many more reporters spring out of nowhere.
Anger spurting through my veins, I push myself out of the car.
I ignore any thoughts urging me to stay away from Eva, to keep a distance. I’m so blind with fury that I’m not thinking as I get to the other side of the road and grab one of the reporters.
“Back off,” I snarl into his face. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“Neal LaClaire.” His face splits into a grin. Desperate for a story, he doesn’t mind that I’m threatening to drive a fist into his face. “Please, just one question.”
From the corner of my eye, I watch as Eva hurries away while the reporters are distracted by my presence. That’s good. I have given her a way out. It’s the least I could do.
“How much did you pay the prostitute?” the reporter I’m threatening croaks. His question makes me snap. The next thing I know, my fist lands on his face and he reels back, a hand covering his nose, which I hope is broken. I’ll end up in the papers for this, but I don’t give a damn.
The others back off immediately. Before I leave, I glare at each of them in turn. “She’s not a prostitute. She’s my girlfriend. Stay away from her or you’ll regret it.”
I reach Eva before she gets into her car.
“Eva, please stop,” I say, breathless. “Let’s talk. Let me help you.”
“I don’t think so.” She reaches for the door handle. “You don’t have to do this.”
For a moment she looks at me and I see the tears I had felt from a distance.
I place my hand on hers, stopping her from pulling the door open. “You’re wrong. I got you into this. Let me help you get out of it.”
She crosses her arms across her chest and watches me. “How?” Under the golden light of the street lamps, she looks like an angel. Even upset, she’s stunning, even more so.
Not for the first time she reminds me of Sonia. My body urges me to reach out, to pull her into my arms. That would be a foolish thing to do. The last time I touched her, I broke her life. I broke the few beautiful memories I still had left of Sonia.
“Come to my car. Let’s talk . . . just for a moment. Let’s figure this out together.”
“The last time you asked me for a moment, I ended up in the papers.” For a brief second, I see a corner of her lips twitch.
“I promise to keep my hands to myself this time. Just get into my car before those jerks come and attack you for information.”
She glances at the reporters on the other side of the road. Some of them are cautiously making their way to us. I don’t need to ask her twice because she follows me to my car.
As soon as the doors are slammed shut, I start the car. “Let’s get out of here.”
“What are you doing?” Her voice is raised. “I have my own car.”
“After dragging your name through the mud, I think it’s my responsibility to repair your reputation. Those reporters are out for blood. They won’t stop until you speak to them. They’ll follow you home if they have to.” I pull out of the parking spot.
My main concern right now is to get Eva as far away from the reporters as I can.
As I pull out into traffic, she turns to look back. “I need to drive my car home.”
“I’ll send someone to come for it.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“Nowhere. I’ll just drive around town while we talk in private.”
She doesn’t say anything for a long time, but I feel her eyes on my cheek. I hope she at least feels some relief that someone is on her side. I don’t look to study her expression.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my eyes fixed on the road ahead. “I’m sorry for everything.”
“You don’t have to be.” She pauses. “It takes two people to do what we did that night.”
“I should have told you who I was. We could have avoided this mess altogether.”
“I should have asked.” She sighs the way she did when she was asleep in my bed. “Thank you . . . thank you for standing up for me back there. I appreciate it.”
“I want to do more than that.” I throw her a glance. “I want to make you an offer.”
“An offer? Please don’t tell me you want to pay me. I don’t want people thinking I’m really a prostitute.”
“I told them you’re not a prostitute.”
“Thanks for that.” She lets out a small laugh, but I can hear the pain hidden in the sound.
“I’m flying to Austria tomorrow for a couple of days for business.”
She shifts in her seat. “What does that have to do with your offer?”
“I want you to come with me.” I blow out a breath. “I’ll ask your boss to give you a few days off. I have a feeling he won’t mind.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I think you deserve to get away for a while to give this scandal a chance to disappear. People lose interest fast when no one is around.”
“And you think flying me out of the country would help with that?”
“It’s the best idea I can come up with right now.” I tighten my hands on the wheel of my rented Porsche. “You told me you had a rough time a few weeks ago. Getting out of the country will give you a chance to recover from what happened to you. Your wedding—”
“What makes you think I haven’t already recovered?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I have.” I stop at a traffic light and meet her eyes. “Please allow me to do this for you. I’ve already messed up your life. Let me fix what I can.” I take a deep breath. “There’s something you should know.”
She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t speak.
“I kind of told the reporters you’re my girlfriend.”
Her fingers touch her ruby lips. “You lied to them?”
“I wanted to repair your reputation. If you accompany me to Vienna, we can make them believe we’re a couple. Everyone will stop thinking you are a—”
“Prostitute?” She shakes her head. “And what happens when I get back?”
“We could pretend we broke up. People break up all the time. We’d be away for two weeks, enough time for a couple to call it quits. After that, we can really go our separate ways.” The light turns green and I move the car forward.
“Two weeks?” She both laughs and coughs at the same time. “I don’t know.”
&nb
sp; I glance at her again to catch her blink. My dick twitches at the sight of her intense expression. I force myself to look away.
“Look, this is weird for me.”
“It doesn’t have to be. See it as a paid holiday. I promise to stay out of your way. Or we could be friends and see Vienna together, when I’m not tied up in meetings, of course. My assistant, Linda, will be around to keep you company when I’m not around.”
“You’re really skilled at tempting me, aren’t you?” Her voice is a velvet murmur.
“It’s the least I can do.” I pause. “Say yes. I won’t take no for an answer.”
“I really don’t know. This is crazy.”
I know she’s tempted. Now I just need to tip her over the edge.
“‘I don’t know’ is not good enough for me. I want a yes.”
A thread of silence falls between us. I resist the urge to fill it, giving her the time she needs to think it through. She’s right. This is one hell of a crazy offer.
When we reach another red traffic light, she looks at me and gives a small nod. I let out a breath and relax my grip on the steering wheel.
15
Eva
Yesterday, I was a laughing stock. Today, I’m inside one of the most luxurious hotels in the city, overlooking the famous Danube River. We have been in Vienna for ten hours now, and I haven’t seen Neal since after we checked into the hotel.
I don’t know what it is about Neal LaClaire that switches off the responsible part of my brain.
In less than a week, he has made me do things I wouldn’t normally do. It still blows my mind that I lost my virginity to him—even if he still doesn’t know I was a virgin— inside an elevator. Even worse, I agreed to fly with him to Vienna without giving it enough thought. One day we’re sitting in his car. The next, we’re on a luxury private plane leaving the US.
Now here I am, in The Sound of Music country.