The Fidelity World_Invictus

by Kylie Hillman

  “What are you doing?”

  “I could ask you the same question,” Bruce snaps back at me. He’s so close that every time he breathes my fringe is blown off my forehead. “You were late this morning, yet think it’s appropriate to head out to lunch already? Your lack of professionalism is mindboggling. Why I bother to keep you on escapes me.”

  The audacity of the man almost renders me speechless. I shift away from him awkwardly until there is enough distance between us that I’m no longer forced to hold my breath to escape the noxious fumes coming from his mouth. If having bad breath was a competition, Bruce’s would be of an award-winning quality.

  Dragging in a lungful of clean air, I run my gaze over his face to gauge whether he’s serious about what he just said. I find nothing but self-righteousness in his expression.

  “I quit, Bruce.” He presses his lips together in a tight line, apparently unimpressed by what I’m saying. “Effective immediately.”

  “Your resignation isn’t accepted.”

  The matter-of-fact way he delivers his disagreement sets off my temper. My body feels like it’s vibrating with anger when, aching ankle forgotten, I step into his personal space and snarl at him. “It isn’t up for negotiation. I quit. You can either let me go without acting like a giant dickhead, or I can take my grievances to the head office. I have a journal full of stories featuring your wandering cock and our barely-legal interns. I’m sure your dad would appreciate having his named dragged through the mud with articles that outline you rather specific tastes?”

  He steps back from the door and pulls it open, so I can leave.

  “You’re making a mistake. If you step through that door, you’ll never work in print media again. I’ll see to it personally.”

  Without pausing, I limp over the threshold. My exit isn’t as graceful as I would have liked, but it still sends the same message. Just in case, he doesn’t get it, I state it verbally, loud and clear.

  “Fuck you, Bruce. I’m doing what I should have done a year ago.”

  I was hoping for fireworks or some kind of outburst that the people walking through the corridor would see. I wanted to embarrass him and his family name on my way out. Unfortunately, the reaction I wanted isn’t the one I get. Bruce slams the door shut in my face without another word and I’m left standing alone in the hallway. The knowledge that I just burnt my bridges in this city sits like a rock in my gut. Bruce’s paper wasn’t exactly top-shelf stuff, but it was a decent stepping stone into employment with the newspapers that matter since his father owns most of them. Their last name opens doors in print media, and I’ve now pissed off the prodigal son to the point of no return.

  “Brilliant strategy,” I mutter angrily to myself. “This is what happens when you let your temper get the best of you.”

  As the daughter of a supposed saint, my bad temper has been the bane of my life. Being a Montoya in Georgia meant that my every move was measured against my mother and my little sister—and I was frequently found lacking when compared to their easy grace and perfect manners. My escape to New York was supposed to be a new start, instead I’m two years into my new life and still repeating the same mistakes.

  Angry shame heats my face. I drop my gaze to the tattered grey, linoleum floor and shuffle my way to the elevator. With my arms burning from carrying my two bags, I lean back against the wall of the lift and try to get my thoughts straight.

  Is Marta right? Living my life my way hasn’t worked so far.

  Maybe it’s time to start doing things differently?

  Starting with the interview she’s organised for me.

  SIX

  Felix

  I turn my phone over and over in my hands while I wait for my dinner guest to arrive. My fingers burn with the need to dial the number I saved in there the moment I got back to the penthouse. Ida’s number. While I’ve had a shower earlier that washed away her writing, I can still close my eyes and see the black writing on the back of my hand.

  All afternoon, I’ve done nothing but think about Ida. The lack of guile in her wide, brown eyes. The lilting joy in her soft voice. The lush curves that create her hourglass figure. She was dressed simply, her clothing from a brand that I’m not familiar with, yet she wore them with an easy grace that spoke of an upper-class upbringing that was at odds with her surroundings.

  Innocence and sophistication in a seductive package.

  Carnal promise blanketed by a visible virtuousness.

  Ida was a conundrum—a puzzle I was determined to complete.

  “Mr. Von Sonderberg?” a female voice drags me from my mental undressing of the woman I met for less than half an hour today. “Your guest has arrived; however, they’ve requested a private room. Please allow me to lead you to your new table.”

  Swiping my phone from the table, I rise to my feet and move to follow the hostess. She doesn’t lead the way immediately, instead she runs her eyes over the length of my body. Her gaze lands on my lips before she lifts it to meet my eyes. Sexual promise is clear to see. Her offer of my favourite type of fun is blatant. I’m used to this kind of reaction from the opposite sex and would normally welcome it.

  The hostess is beautiful in that generic way that fashion tells women they should be. Big lips, ample breasts, thin limbs, blonde hair, and a doe-eyed expression that offers no personality.

  Just what the doctor ordered. Literally.

  Unfortunately, it does nothing for me tonight.

  I want the woman whose nose is lightly covered by freckles. I want thick, wavy, dark hair. I want pliable curves, natural breasts, and soft limbs. I want someone who will laugh at themselves and question my abilities. I want the exact opposite of what is being offered right now.

  The hostess licks her lips, then holds her hand out to me.

  “Come with me, Mr. Von Sonderberg.” Her hand wavers in the air, then drops to her side when I don’t take it. She waits, but I don’t speak, and she eventually gets the message. With a stiff spine, her gait is full of indignation as she leads me to one of the private dining rooms. Once we’re at the last entryway, she holds back the white curtain and waves me through. “This is your room.”

  No more being addressed as Mr. Von Sonderberg. No more exotic roll of her tongue when she pronounces my name. The hostess is completely business-like, her offer deftly withdrawn once I stopped reacting favourably.

  I hold out a one-hundred-dollar bill, which she accepts with a haughty flick of her hand, then walk into the dining room. I’m barely through the entry when the curtain is dropped shut behind me.

  “Felix,” the woman at the table stands. She walks around the end and opens her arms wide to embrace me. “It’s been much too long.”

  “Lydia,” I greet her, returning her fierce hug with matching intensity. “You’re right. We must catch up more often.”

  My father’s Infidelity companion kisses me twice, once on each cheek, then retakes her seat. “I hope you don’t mind me hijacking your meeting, but I have someone for you to meet.”

  She gestures across the table, and I feel my heart leap out of my chest. Ida sits at the opposite end of the table to Lydia. Two spots of red colour her cheeks when she looks at me. I feel identical burning in my own face and I drop her enquiring gaze long enough to take my seat in the middle of the two women.

  “Ida,” Lydia says, “This is Felix. He is the client chosen for you.”

  “Ni-ice to meet you, Felix.” Ida sends a pleading look in my direction when she speaks. Her voice is full of worry that she tries to conceal. She twists the napkin on her lap into a ball with her hands, making me want to take it from her so I can hold her hand and soothe her nerves. “I’m very grateful that Infidelity has chosen my companion so quickly.”

  I play along with her silent request to pretend we’ve never met before, although the look I send her says that I’ll be demanding answers as soon as I can. “As am I. Although, I’m rather caught off guard here considering I was under the illusion that this was m
y interview with Infidelity and not dinner with a companion I haven’t had the luxury of vetting yet.”

  Lydia interjects, “I will admit that this is highly unusual, Felix. When Ida was introduced to the company this afternoon, I just knew that she’d be perfect for you and I didn’t want you to miss out if I left her on the books for too long. Of course, one phone call to your father was all it took to make this happen.”

  “Of course,” I reply drily. Her waffling clears everything up instantly. My father thinks he’s being clever. He must have another security team following me just to keep tabs on who I see. Serge is too professional to report back on my movements in the type of detail that my father would require.

  “So,” I address Ida. “How much did they pay you to trip in front of me this morning?”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t follow.”

  I look Ida up and down with a sneer in my expression. Who does she think she’s fooling? “I know my father. He obviously thought I needed a change from my usual and sent you to keep me suitably occupied this year.”

  “I beg your pardon—”

  Laying my palms flat on the table, I push to my feet and tower over Ida. “Listen, I’m sure you’re fun and all, but I’m not interested in being played.”

  “Felix!” Lydia’s high-pitched screech follows me as I stomp out of the dining room.

  I’m already half-way to the front door when a female hand grabs mine and tugs me to a stop. Swinging around, I expect to come face to face with Lydia. Instead, my eyes widen with surprise when I discover that Ida has chased me down. There is obvious pain in her expression, and for a second, I think that she’s pretending to cry over what I said. I begin to shake her off, when the sway in her step that becomes apparent when she tries to follow me again, reminds me that she hurt her ankle pretty bad this morning.

  That’s if the whole thing wasn’t a ruse created by my father.

  Taking her by the hand, I try to ignore the spark of electricity that burns my skin at our touch. I lead her to the closest empty table and pull out a seat for her to sit in. I perch opposite Ida, lifting her foot into my lap and run my fingers over her swollen ankle.

  I don’t relish the idea of her being in pain, but I do smile when I see the light bruise. At least, one thing about this morning was real.

  “Felix,” Ida lets my name roll off her tongue. “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”

  “Literally,” we both in unison.

  Our eyes meet, and we burst into laughter. Once our humour has died, I use my fingertips to massage her ankle.

  “Explain to me how I met you by accident this morning, and then you suddenly show up here tonight.” Ida tries to tug her foot away from me, but I hold her in place. “I’m not trying to be an ass. I’m simply not a fan of being set up.”

  “I don’t understand why you think I’m setting you up?” Ida asks. “I didn’t even work for Infidelity until this afternoon. After you left, I lost my job for being late, and my friend Marta got me an interview at Infidelity because she’s been working there for the past two years. I didn’t even know that she was being paid for being a companion. I thought she had a sugar daddy. Well, I guess I didn’t really get fired, I kinda quit because my boss pissed me off one too many times and I have a shocking temper. But, I promise on my great-abuela’s life that I didn’t know you this morning and I had no idea that you were the person meeting us for dinner tonight. I’m not that type of person. I don’t play games—”

  It appears that Ida gets a bad case of verbal diarrhoea when she’s stressed. I’m losing track of her convoluted explanation, so letting her foot fall to the ground, I lean forward and stop her word vomit with my mouth. Ida stops talking, and after a moment of hesitation, kisses me back.

  Our kiss is everything I spent my afternoon imagining. Her lips are soft, her prodding tongue is firm. She meets me with equal intensity, there is nothing tentative about this woman. Her mouth is a perfect fit for my own. I would eat her alive if I could.

  Sparks of attraction catch fire in my belly, and I pull her forward until she’s sitting on my lap. Ida winds her fingers into my hair, tugging the locks with more force when I run my hands up her arms and pull her even closer to me to deepen our kiss. My cock grows hard in my slacks. I drop my hands to her hips and rock her back and forth over my hardness.

  “Ah, hmm.” Lydia clears her throat near us. “You’re garnering a bit of a crowd, Felix. I think your father would prefer if you kept your dalliance to the back rooms until your first public event.”

  The mention of my father is like having a bucket of cold water thrown over me. I pull my lips from Ida’s, and we both gasp for air when we separate. One look at Ida’s widened pupils and the raw redness that surrounds her plump lips has me scooping her into the air and storming my way back to our private dining room.

  The white curtain falls back into place behind us and I place her gently in the seat in which she was originally seated. I’m in the process of retaking my seat before Lydia joins us in the room.

  I ignore her and concentrate on Ida. She smiles at me, confusion mingling with passion on her beautiful face. “This carrying me everywhere is becoming a bit of a habit.”

  “I don’t hear you complaining,” I retort with humour in my voice.

  “Well, it is kinda nice.”

  “We have some business to attend to,” Lydia interrupts. “Terms and conditions need to be agreed upon before you can take this relationship public. With your position, Felix, it’s pertinent that you take the appropriate preparations to cover your bases.”

  Lydia’s suggestion turns my blood to ice. I’ve been down this road before. The moment a woman finds out that I’m a Crown Prince, it’s game over. They are no longer interested in Felix the person, instead they become enamoured with the idea of being the perfect Princess. My royal affiliation has ruined more relationships that I can count, and I’m not keen on the same thing happening with Ida.

  “No. I would prefer to handle this my way,” I tell Lydia. “Have the contract drawn up between Ida Montoya and Felix King. Everything else can be dealt with in due time.”

  “Your father will never sanction this,” Lydia cautions.

  “My father can’t object if he doesn’t find out,” I tell her, pointedly. Lydia’s mouth forms a perfect O when the warning behind my words sinks in. “He’s not exactly the forgiving type and I, for one, always find it best to keep our indiscretions on the down-low so one doesn’t anger him unnecessarily.”

  “That is true.” My father’s current companion’s previous objections to my plan have been swallowed whole by her own need for self-preservation. I’m not the only person with secrets to keep from my father. Lydia has three-year-old secret that weighs about forty pounds and is beginning to ask questions about the whereabouts of his “daddy”.

  Our odd exchange has been watched by Ida with open-mouthed fascination. The riddles that we speak must sound ridiculous to her and it makes me feel dirty to think of how I’m planning to conceal the truth. Yet, I see no other way to proceed. Lying keeps us both safe from the tentacles of deceit that make up a major part of the power my father yields.

  When Lydia lifts her briefcase from the floor and places it on the table, Ida raises an eyebrow in my direction. I try to smile, but it’s all teeth and must look as fake as it feels.

  I guess it’s fitting. There’s nothing about this situation that feels real any longer.

  My plan was to ask Ida to dinner. Instead, we’re sitting in a private dining room at one of the city’s most exclusive restaurants, preparing to sign a contract that outlines in the minutest detail how we’re going to conduct our relationship over the next year. Any potential we had has been ruined by the same thing that always rules my life.

  The Von Sonderberg name.

  Ida might not know my true identity. That doesn’t mean that she’s not already tangled up in the web of social expectations that come with my family’s position in the worl
d. The first woman I’ve felt anything real for has now been purchased and then turned over to me, signed, sealed, and delivered, by the wealth that is the curse of my very existence.

  We’ve been ruined before we even had a chance.

  “Sign here,” Lydia points to the section I have to sign. The name under the line says, “Felix King” and it takes me a second to remember that that’s me at the moment. With the use of my fake name, Ida will only be lightly tainted by her association to me, and not swallowed whole like everyone else I’ve ever been connected to. It’s a small mercy which lifts my spirits the tiniest bit.

  With a flourish, I add my signature and wait for Lydia to show Ida where she needs to sign. Maybe, this isn’t going to be as bad as I thought? Here’s hoping. A year spent in an under-the-radar relationship with Ida may provide me with the sense of contentment I need to head back home and take on the duties of the crown. The pre-arranged expiration date could be a blessing in disguise for both of us.

  “I’m not sure about this,” Ida says before Lydia can direct her. She pushes back in her seat, her indecision clear to see. Retaking her feet, she lays her hand softly on my shoulder when she stops behind me. “When I signed with Infidelity today, I never imagined that the client would be anyone I knew. This is a too much for me to wrap my head around. I think I need to sleep on it.”

  “You’ve already agreed, Ida,” Lydia protests as Ida leaves through the curtain. She looks at me with panic on her face. “Felix, you must bring her back here. She signed the contract in the office this afternoon. We only needed your signature to complete the arrangement. It’s already a done deal.”

  Lydia’s statement brings a smile to my face. I hold a hand up to stop her when she moves to go after Ida. “Let her have this evening to sort through her worries. I’ll find her tomorrow morning and explain everything.”

  “Are you sure?” Lydia cocks an eyebrow and stares at me. She’s suspicious of my easy acquiescence. “Ida seems to think she still has the option to back out.”