by Avery Flynn
“You’re just as much of a fake as I am, except at least I’m not faking it for profit like you. I have to play nice because those are the rules of my peers. But you? What do you people do on the other side of the harbor? What am I asking you for? You’ve been acting like one of us for so long, you probably don’t even remember.”
Irena’s eyes glittered with triumph. She thought she had him—and she almost did. He was holding on to his control with his fingernails. It had all happened as she no doubt had planned. He’d lose his cool. The board members would hear all about it. And Irena would walk away wondering out loud what in the world she could have ever said to have upset the man. After that, the deal would be a bust. Irena may be evil, but she was an evil fucking genius.
“Oh, that face,” she said, making a tsk-tsk cluck with her tongue as she placed her hand on his forearm, holding on hard enough that he’d have to shake her off to free himself. “I know that one. It’s the same one you had on when you watched me stroll out of Sawyer’s hotel room the night before our wedding, my shirt misbuttoned and my skirt askew. It’s like you’re trying to stuff a ten-ton elephant into a soda bottle.”
All of the vile words came out pointed and sharp but the sweet, doe-eyed, innocent look on her face never faltered. She really was an expert at this.
“Shut up, Irena.” He handed the bartender a wad of cash and picked up his drink with his free hand, hoping she’d take the hint.
She didn’t.
“The thing that made me realize that no matter how much money you had or how much you made my toes curl when I came, I couldn’t be with you, was a little visit I had with your mom.” Her words were as sharp and as deadly as the knife the bartender was using to slice the limes. “You didn’t know she’d come to see me, did you? I didn’t think so. She was drunk, angry, and looking like she was on the tail end of a lifetime bender. It was a hell of a combination.” She smiled so sweetly up at him, it nearly put him in sugar shock. “She told me all about your childhood, about your dad, and about how she was responsible for that scar on your eyebrow. Ten stitches? That must have been some aim she had with your Little League baseball trophy.”
Tyler held himself perfectly still and filled his veins with ice. This was how he’d survived that night and a million more, by learning what everyone who’d ever faced down overwhelming odds before had—to never let them see what was really going on inside. Once he was sure he was there, he lifted his glass and took a drink—not too big, not too small. It was deliberate to show her words had no impact.
Instead of quieting her, though, it only emboldened her. She threw back her head and laughed, a cheery tinkling noise like the sound of a bell attached to an antique shop’s door.
“That elephant still won’t fit in that bottle, will it?” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “You know what else won’t fit? You. No matter what you do or how well you pretend, you’ll always be the kid from Waterbury with the parents who beat on each other for entertainment and beat on you when you tried to stop them. You don’t belong here. You don’t belong with Alberto’s business…” Something over his shoulder must have caught her eye because the words died on her tongue. Unfortunately, she didn’t lose her track of thought for long. “But her? Oh yeah, she’s definitely your speed.”
He didn’t need to look back to know who Irena was talking about, and judging by the satisfied look on her face, Everly was heading their way like a woman on a mission. He shot back half his Scotch in one swallow, trying to dull the feeling that came along with knowing she was coming here to defend him—something very few people had ever done before. God knew his parents never had. But by the time the alcohol burned its way down to his belly, the logical side of his brain had taken over. Everly didn’t give two shits about causing a public scene, which Irena had to be depending on and why she’d made sure to deliver her little speech with an uptight hotel board member nearby. Tyler couldn’t afford to let that happen, though, if he was going to make the deal that was big enough and sought-after enough to make everyone in Harbor City forget where he’d come from. How in the hell he was going to stop her, though? He had no fucking clue.
…
Everly knew Irena’s type. Rich. Insecure. Bitchy. That combination led to a pain-in-the-ass, high-maintenance customer at the gallery and a woman in dire need of correction in other circumstances like this one. She didn’t need to see Tyler’s face or hear their words to know Irena was up to the same bullshit she’d pulled out on the street the other day. That shit would not stand, not when it came to someone she loved. She nearly tripped in her favorite four-inch heels as the realization struck. It was the only explanation for the fury burning her from the inside out and the overwhelming urge to fight for Tyler when he wouldn’t fight for himself. You didn’t do that for fuck buddies. You did that for the people you loved.
Shoving the thought aside to be dealt with later when she wasn’t on the warpath, she put on her best don’t-fuck-with-me expression and stopped next to Tyler.
“Having a good time?” she asked, picking up her wine from the bar.
“Of course,” Irena said, flashing a brilliant smile that was about as real as the diamond studs in Everly’s ears. “We were reminiscing about the good old days.”
Tyler pressed his palm against the small of her back and said, “Everly, let’s go.”
“Yes, you really should enjoy this experience while you can,” Irena said. “It’s not like you’ll be getting more chances to attend events like this. People like you two may get a peek in at what happens upstairs, but you’ll always just be downstairs staff.”
Tyler flinched beside her. It was only minimal and most people wouldn’t have caught it, but she did. Everly had met plenty of people like Irena, where their entire self-worth was based on what others thought of her, and any threat to that opinion was met offensively. She was probably striking out before Tyler could put her down, discredit his words. It was a good strategy, but it was unnecessary. What was she, afraid he’d let everyone know what a bed-hopping fiancée she’d been? Clearly she didn’t know Tyler as well as she thought, because this man would never say anything publicly that might make him look classless. But that didn’t give her the right to take him down a peg. And she was going to do something about it.
Irena was a slimy bitch—one Everly had had more than enough of. Ignoring Tyler’s none-too-gentle push against her back, she stood her ground. He might feel like he had to play within some arbitrary rules of society, but she didn’t.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing to work for a living.”
“Oh no, I understand many people have to do it,” Irena said with a casual shrug.
In another situation, this would be an attack kind of moment, but a solid punch to the nose was too good for someone like Tyler’s former fiancée and, let’s face it, she’d never been a physical fighter when her words were much better weapons.
“You spoiled hag,” Everly said. And it was past time that she and the others like her heard it. At that point something clicked inside her that usually only went into fighting fury mode when it came to defending art or her family. She could quiet that loyalty urge, but only for so long in the face of someone like Irena, and time was up.
Tyler took a step away from the bar, his hand at the base of her spine steering her along with him. “This isn’t the time or the place.”
She turned to him, unable to understand how he could put up with even another second of this shit. “Exactly when is it, then?” she asked, her voice loud enough that heads turned. “You cannot let this woman get away with it anymore.”
“Get away with what?” Irena asked with mock innocence. “I’m just telling the truth.”
“Everly,” Tyler said, his voice full of warning. “Let it go.”
That wasn’t happening. She turned back toward the other woman. “Tyler and I may not have been born with a silver spoon in our mouths, but we’ve gained everything we have through hard work and determi
nation. All you did was be born—and look what you’ve accomplished with your life because of it. Nothing. Unless you count turning into the kind of woman who tries to cheat on her fiancé on their wedding night as an accomplishment.”
Tyler’s hand slipped from her back, taking his warmth with it. She was so caught up in the moment of finally putting Irena in her place on Tyler’s behalf that she barely noticed.
Blotchy red spots exploded on Irena’s cheeks. “How dare you talk to me like that!”
“Easily. Of course, it’s not your fault you turned into such a crabby bitch; it’s not like you had access to the best education, travel, and opportunities to better yourself.” Everly let out a dramatic gasp as fake as the crocodile tears filling Irena’s eyes. “No, wait. You did! You just have such a big oak tree stuck up your ass that you’ve never realized how lucky you were.”
“You two deserve each other. Why don’t you get out of here and go have some white-trash babies who’ll just end up sucking off the public teat,” Irena said, her words quiet enough that only Everly could hear them. “That’s what you people always end up doing.”
Everly’s wrist flicked before she realized what she was doing, and the wine from her glass landed with a splash against Irena’s face, the liquid running down her cheeks along with her mascara.
Irena’s jaw dropped, and she let out a squeal loud enough to get the attention of everyone around them. The crowd’s focus jumped from Everly to Irena, who gaped at her like a fish tossed onto the shore.
“How could you?” Irena asked, her voice filled with false confusion. “All I did was ask about your gallery.” She turned to an Italian man at the end of the bar who was one of the hotel board members. “I’m so sorry you had to see that. Please know it’s not a reflection on Alberto or Carlo.”
The men in question hustled toward the bar. Ever a Riverside girl, though, Everly clocked their position in her periphery and kept her focus on the lying bitch who’d done so much damage already. Carlo handed his fiancée a napkin from the bar. She smiled up at him like a woman who’d been horribly wronged.
“Tesoro, is all well?” Alberto’s question to Everly was soft, but the concern in his tone boomed. “This is not like you to get so passionate about something other than art,” he said. “Are you feeling all right?”
All right? No, she felt fucking amazing, as if she’d conquered— She turned her attention to Alberto, and her internal answer died out along with that triumphant feeling. There was a small crowd around them, all of whom were pretending not to listen while taking in every word as if they were court reporters. The Italian man at the other end of the short bar was looking straight at her, distaste plain in his hard gaze. Closer to home, Carlo stood next to Irena, who may be a horrid bitch, but she was still his fiancée. The expression on his face was a mix of confusion and anger. Pivoting just a bit, she got her first look at Tyler since she’d mounted her vigorous defense. “Thunderous” would be a generous description of the look on his face. Worst of all, beneath the fake tears, there was no missing the victory in Irena’s eyes. Shit. Shit. Shit. What did Nunni say about doing the wrong thing for the right reasons? She couldn’t remember at the moment, but no doubt it would come back to her soon.
“Actually, yes. I do feel a little out of sorts.” And at the moment it wasn’t a lie. Her stomach was in knots and her throat was tight enough to make getting the words out difficult.
“Is that what you call such rude behavior where you grew up in Riverside?” Irena asked, balancing the ire with hurt in her voice. The woman really had missed her calling.
There was nothing she wanted more than to tell Irena to go fuck herself, but she couldn’t. She’d fucked up enough as it was by forgetting the audience around them as she fired away at the other woman. “I have no excuse; please accept my apology.”
“Of course.” Irena offered her a weak smile that didn’t reach her still watery eyes and held out her hand. “Where would we be if we couldn’t forgive?”
She took the other woman’s hand and shook it, ignoring the shiver of revulsion that spilled down her spine. “That’s very kind of you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Irena gave her a regal nod before turning to Carlo and whispering to him not to worry. It was just low blood sugar on Everly’s part or something that caused all the fuss.
Grinding her teeth to keep from saying anything else, Everly strode away from the bar. She made it two steps before an unmistakable awareness spilled over her as Tyler fell into step beside her. He was mad. She could accept that, but the fact that he was with her now confirmed the hope she hadn’t even realized she was harboring until this moment—that he’d stick with her no matter what, that he wasn’t like her father.
Once outside the ballroom doors, he turned left and led her to an empty alcove away from the chattering crowd. Holding her tongue until she looked around to make sure the coast was clear—who said she couldn’t learn from her mistakes—she let out a deep breath.
“My God, can you believe that woman?” Everly asked, taking a step toward Tyler, wanting nothing more than his arms around her at that moment.
“Her?” He evaded Everly’s touch. “I can totally believe that Irena would set up a public scene like that. What I can’t believe is that you fell for it and fucked everything up, possibly permanently.”
…
It was taking everything Tyler had not to let loose the last frayed strings of his self-control. Frustration and fury blasted his gut and singed his lungs as his brain spun, trying to find a way out of this hole Everly had dug for them both. If he didn’t, then the deal he needed so fucking badly would fall apart. The truth of that was in the look of disgust on Gianni Esposito’s face and the concern on Alberto’s.
“What in the hell are you talking about?” Everly whisper-shouted, getting right in his face. “I stuck up for you, which was more than you were doing for yourself.”
“Do you really think what that woman thinks of me matters?” No, what he’d been doing was playing the game, just like he always had. That’s what she failed to understand, what she’d always failed to understand. “Do you really think I care about her at all?”
She let out an angry huff and threw her hands up in the air. “You don’t have to care about what she thinks to have some pride in yourself and not let other people treat you like shit.”
“Is that what you think I was doing? Just bowing down?” Is that what she thought of him? That he was just some kind of wimp?
“That’s what it looked like,” she shot back.
Jesus. He’d filled his veins with ice in order to learn how to not respond to every jibe, not to give in to the so-called friendly ribbing that was anything but, not to react to the questions about his abilities because of where he was from. He was playing chess, watching the pieces and always thinking six moves ahead. That’s how he’d survived his home as a child and how he’d managed to make a name for himself in Harbor City. He sure as fuck hadn’t accomplished anything by allowing himself the luxury of letting his emotions—justified or not—determine how he reacted to a situation.
“I always have a plan,” he said, keeping his voice low and as neutral as possible. “My ex-fiancée was just goading us with the specific intent of getting a rise out of me and making me lose my temper to show the hotel board just how unsuitable I am. I didn’t do that, but you sure as hell did. You let her get your Riverside up and let loose calling her a whore and doing the one thing I didn’t think anyone could do, make Irena look sympathetic.”
“How is that even possible with all she said about you?” she asked, matching his volume despite the heat in her words.
And there it was. That was the brilliance of Irena’s plot to fuck him out of this deal.
“Because no one else heard that part, only we did.” Gianni Esposito from the hotel board certainly hadn’t. “The people who matter only heard you.”
“The people who m-matter?” she sputtered. “You sound like Irena.�
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“And in there, you sounded like my parents before the dishes started shattering.” Fuck. That was not where he’d wanted to take this conversation. Refusing to give in to the fire burning in his belly, he exhaled a deep breath. “You’re smart, talented, and passionate about the things you care about, but you don’t understand these people like I do. I’ve spent my life trying to prove to them that even though I’m an outsider, I’m more than just some kid from Waterbury. It has been the only thing I’ve focused all my attention on since I got that scholarship to prep school. Since then, every day has been about moving forward, strengthening my reputation, and always knowing what to expect next—until I met you and the unexpected became an everyday part of my life. It’s a distraction I can’t afford if I’m going to convince the board to pull this deal back from the edge—and I have to maneuver them into that decision, which is going to be that much harder because of what you did in there.”
Her lip trembled as an angry flush swept up from her chest and she took a step back, smoothing her hair and raising her chin a few inches. “Do you have any idea how it feels to never be good enough for the people in your life that you—” Her voice cracked as she seemed to nearly choke on the emotion turning the tip of her nose red and making her chin tremble. Then, she took a shaky breath and continued. “That you care about when all you want is for them to accept you for who you are and they don’t?”
Was she joking? Had she not heard what he’d been saying about the precariousness of his position and the value of this deal in finally solidifying his place in Harbor City? “Every fucking day, which is why it’s so important that I go back inside and fix this massive fuckup.”
He expected more fiery emotions, more verbal explosions. Instead, he watched—almost in a slow-motion perspective that shredded him from the inside out—as all the emotion drained out of her eyes and she went perfectly still. He knew that look. He’d fucking mastered it. It was the one that said there was nothing left in her veins but ice and that whatever had just happened didn’t matter because she no longer cared. She’d shut down—no, she’d shut him out.