An Unlikely Deal

by Nadia Lee

  “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” I give her a cool stare. “I never did anything you didn’t beg for.”

  Her cheeks flush. “Because you never told me the truth.”

  “Ava.”

  She glances at the driver. “Not right now.”

  “He won’t understand.”

  She snorts. “Some drivers speak English surprisingly well.”

  I frown. That may be true; our cabbie understood me when I told him where to go. I have no desire to give somebody an earful of our history. Making the tabloid headlines is Elliot’s hobby, not mine.

  The lights from the night streets illuminate her profile. I wouldn’t say she’s classically beautiful. Her nose is a little bit too upturned and her chin is a little too pointed, with a hint of the stubbornness that rivals that of a singularly cantankerous mule. But somehow her features come together to create an arresting façade. Her eyelids are at half-mast now, mostly hidden by the long lashes. Although there’s tightness in her mouth, her bee-stung lips look so damn soft. I run my thumb along the side of my index finger, wishing it was her lower lip I was touching instead.

  With a considerable effort I tear my gaze from her face.

  Not the right time, and not the right move. I’ve waited two years. Surely I can wait a few more minutes.

  I inhale and realize what the problem is. Her scent is permeating the atmosphere—jasmine and vanilla. It’s intoxicating, inescapable. And I want.

  I want, I want, I want because I’ve waited for so damn long.

  Almost there.

  When we pull up in front of the hotel, I pay the driver wordlessly. A uniformed doorman rushes over to open the door for Ava.

  I tell him, “No bags,” and lead Ava toward the elevator to the top floor, where I have a suite reserved for a couple of days. A uniformed butler welcomes me back in lightly accented but smooth English, and I dismiss her with a curt nod. She leaves, closing the door behind her.

  Ava stands in the middle of the sumptuously appointed suite. “So this is how you really live.”

  There’s a cool censure in her tone that throws me off. “It’s just a hotel room.”

  She laughs. “Right. Just a hotel room.”

  “A penny for your thoughts?”

  “I think you can afford more than that.” She gestures around. “Just look at all this stuff. And the way you treat the staff…”

  My eyebrows pull together. “What?”

  “You act like you were born to have your every whim and desire catered to.”

  “Ava, it’s a hotel. It’s their job to cater to me. And they’re getting paid handsomely for that service.”

  Her mouth twists, but she doesn’t say more.

  Jesus. What the hell are we doing? I didn’t bring her here to argue about how I treat the staff.

  “Something to drink?” I ask with a calm I don’t feel. “There’s a wet bar, and if you want something warm, I can call the butler and have her make you something.”

  “I don’t want anything.” Her mouth shuts so fast I can hear her teeth click.

  “Not if it’s from me, you mean.”

  “Astute.”

  “Not astute. Just remembering our history. You always fought tooth and nail over every gift I ever gave you. Perhaps you would’ve been more amenable if they’d been dipped in gold first.”

  She treated them like tokens of ill-intent, and it still fucking hurts.

  “I never wanted any of those things, dipped in gold or otherwise, not that that ever meant anything to you,” she says bitterly.

  The throb in my left leg worsens—it always tenses up and gives me trouble after long flights. My temper starts to fray.

  “If I want to give a woman something, she’ll damn well take it and thank me.”

  “Then you should’ve fucked someone who would’ve damn well taken it and thanked you because I’m not her. Can I go now?”

  “Who the hell was that guy?”

  She looks at me blankly. “What guy?”

  “The one at the bar who offered to pay you to join him in England.”

  “Drew?”

  “Yes! Drew! Who apparently can pay for an entire damned trip, when I can’t even share a flight with you.” I sound like an asshole, but I can’t help it. Jealousy is my least favorite emotion, and I’m feeling it all the way to my bones.

  “He’s a friend…”

  A friend who was sitting entirely too close to her. A male friend who undoubtedly wants to get into her panties. A friend who isn’t bad-looking…an unscarred and undamaged friend.

  The impressions drip into my consciousness like acid. My hands clench, and I wish the bastard were here so I could punch him in the face and break his perfect nose.

  “…and you’re nothing.”

  The softly whispered words shatter my control. How can she toss me into the “nothing” category when I wanted to be her everything the moment I glimpsed her?

  Ignoring the ache in my leg, I take two long and slightly uneven strides toward her. My hands cup her head, palms to cool cheeks, and my head dips.

  My mouth slants over hers. Her lips stay closed, although she doesn’t pull away. I don’t want to force myself in. I want her to let me in, beg me for it.

  Left without a way to get inside without bruising her tender flesh, I give her a few licks, coaxing her. Her jasmine and vanilla scent leaves me breathless with need. The feel of her smooth, soft lips… Jesus.

  She lets out a low moan, and her lips part. Seizing the moment, I sweep in with my tongue. At the taste of her, I groan. She’s just as sweet and lovely as I remember… No, even sweeter. I’m a man lost in the desert who’s discovered an oasis. I can’t stop drinking her in. The more I have of her, the more I want.

  I’ll never get my fill.

  The thought is fleeting, stirring unease, but lust burns away all sanity. My hand fists in the warm silk of her hair, and I kiss her hard.

  She clutches my shoulders, pulling me closer. She devours me back, her lips fused to mine. Her tongue strokes the inside of my mouth with a familiar boldness that boils my blood.

  I want… Oh how I want…

  My other hand is at the small of her back, drawing us together. She adjusts, fitting her body closer and cradling my erection in her lower belly the way she used to when she was turned on and wanted my cock sliding deep inside her.

  The need to take her, to mark her as mine again, is becoming unbearable. Suddenly she pushes me away. The unexpected move almost makes me lose my balance, breaks my hold on her.

  Ava breathes harshly as she stares at me, her eyes wide and impossibly blue. As control slowly returns to her, her kiss-swollen mouth sets in a tight line, as though she’s rehearsing nasty things to say the moment I speak. She expects me to gloat, but that isn’t my style.

  I step forward, my hand reaching out, but she flinches and turns away. Her face is drawn and slightly pale—except for a red flush in her cheeks. She has to be jet-lagged from the red-eye, and she probably hasn’t had more than a snack since landing in Osaka. She has a habit of skipping meals when she’s tired or stressed. I noticed she didn’t take a single bite of the chicken she ordered at the bar.

  “I haven’t had dinner yet, so I’m going to order something,” I say.

  “Go ahead. I’m not stopping you.”

  Good fucking god. Pushing down my mounting irritation, I call room service and order a rare Kobe-beef steak, chicken tenders and fries.

  She crosses her arms. “That’s a lot of food you’re getting.”

  “I took you away from having your dinner, so it’s the least I can do.”

  “No need. I lost my appetite the moment you showed up.”

  As soon as she finishes, her stomach rumbles. Her face turns bright red, and it’s all I can do not to howl with triumph. I school my face to impassivity. “Your belly seems to disagree.”

  Her face turns even redder.

  “Ava. Sit down.” With
out waiting for her, I take the sectional. She seats herself across from me in an armchair. Now her legs are crossed, too.

  “I’ve made a decision.”

  “Oh, goody. As long as it involves you going back home tonight and never contacting me again.”

  “I told you, you took something from me. We never got to talk about that.”

  She goes still and slightly white. Her teeth bite into her lip and she looks at the curtains. “What is it you think I took from you?” Her voice is thin, almost inaudible.

  I go on full alert. Her reaction is muted now, but I can’t help but think of the way she freaked out in Chiang Mai. She’s definitely done something she’s afraid I’ll find out about.

  Unease knots my gut.

  Focus on what I want first. If I get that, I’ll have the opportunity to figure it out.

  “Half a year,” I state firmly.

  “What?” She turns toward me, dropping her hands in her lap. “How did I steal half a—”

  “No. I want half a year. With you. Twenty-four weeks.”

  “And just exactly how did you arrive at that number?”

  “A week for each month you stayed away.”

  She snorts. “Perhaps you should ask your brother to stay with you for twenty-four weeks.”

  This again. Now I’m glad I had that call. “I already spoke with Blake.”

  “Oh?” Her eyes are sharper now. “And?”

  “He said he didn’t do anything to you.”

  Chapter Ten

  Ava

  I glare at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I trust him. It’s not his style to interfere in relationships.”

  “Of course! Why would you ever doubt your awesome brother? Let’s doubt the gold digger.”

  Lucas inhales sharply. “I never considered you a gold digger. You know that.”

  “Right. That’s why you kept showering me with money and gifts…and a freaking Lexus. Because I’m not a gold digger.”

  “I gave you those things because I wanted to help. And you needed a new car anyway. That rattrap you were driving was a time bomb.”

  My mouth twists at the familiar argument. The beat-up, dilapidated Nissan, as far as Lucas was concerned, was going to give out on some deserted road frequented only by serial killers and rapists. I give a sudden and theatrical mock-gasp, as though I just recalled something, and cover my mouth with a hand. “Oh, and I forgot. I’m also supposed to be your mistake!”

  And a dumb one too from the way liquid heat lingers in my veins. God. How can I still respond to Lucas like that? My body should know better.

  “Ava,” he growls out my name in a warning. “I’ve never said you were a mistake.”

  The old mortification surges, and I feel my cheeks and chest heat. “Not to my face, you didn’t. So what? You think saying that crap behind my back makes it better?”

  His mouth parts. “I didn’t—”

  “If you didn’t talk about me as a mistake or a gold digger, why did your brother call me those things the moment we met? How did he get that impression?”

  “I already told you I spoke with him, and he said he doesn’t remember saying anything of the sort. You’re mistaken.”

  I stare at him. He’s so, so earnest, his gaze direct and steady. This is how he was able to get me to succumb to him in the first place. I couldn’t turn him down when he looked at me like that, like he meant every syllable.

  So why did Blake say those things? Did he really deny everything to Lucas?

  I feel like my world is upending again, my resolve weakening. The truths I knew are no longer true, and I only want to believe what Lucas is telling me.

  Don’t be an idiot.

  Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

  I can’t afford to repeat the past. I drop my eyes. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

  “The hell you say.”

  A knock interrupts him. He curses under his breath and answers the door. It’s room service.

  The man keeps his gaze straight ahead and brings our food in. If he senses the tension in the suite, he doesn’t show it. He lays everything out, confirms that the order is correct, has Lucas sign a slip and disappears.

  “Eat,” Lucas says, retaking his sectional.

  “I told you, I’m not hungry.”

  “Humor me, Ava.”

  The cold, quiet rasp of his voice lets me know he’s close to his breaking point. I grab a fry and nibble on it, while he helps himself to the steak. If he’s disappointed by how small the portion sizes are, he doesn’t show it. Japanese people consume not even a third of what Americans routinely polish off in one sitting.

  “As I said, I want you back for twenty-four weeks.”

  “If you need a fuck buddy, surely you can get Faye Belbin to fill the role,” I say.

  A tinge of something that looks like satisfaction glitters in his gaze. “Jealous?”

  “You wish.”

  “I told you, I didn’t sleep with her while I was with you. She and I were over years ago. Ask her to confirm if that will help.”

  I laugh. “You haven’t been listening to anything, have you? I don’t trust you. I don’t trust the people around you to tell the truth, Blake being the most recent example.”

  “I trusted you.” He speaks quietly and evenly. “I didn’t come to Osaka to fight, Ava. And I can’t stay in Japan for long, so you’ll have to quit your job and come back home with me.”

  Both my eyebrows rise. “Are you out of your freaking mind? There’s no way I’m quitting my job for you.”

  “Teaching isn’t your calling. You told me you wanted to be a writer.”

  “Teaching is what I do so I can eat and put a roof over my head.”

  “I can give you money, enable you to write full-time. Surely you can write a book in twenty-four weeks.”

  I have to laugh. “It’s not quite that sim—”

  “Fine, whatever, it takes longer. I’ll continue to provide for you until you make enough to earn a living from your writing. How long does it take to write a book? A year? Two?”

  Bastard. He’s using what I told him in a moment of particular closeness to leverage me.

  “I’m not the girl I used to be, and people’s dreams change. I’m not going back to you. I can never go back to what we had.”

  He frowns. “What was so objectionable about it?”

  My mouth slackens. “What wasn’t objectionable about it?”

  “What we had was perfect.”

  “For you, maybe, because it was on your terms. It was about you fucking me whenever you wanted.”

  He gives me a look. “Ava. If I’d fucked you whenever I wanted, you would’ve never left your apartment. Mainly because you wouldn’t have been able to walk.”

  I flush, and an unwanted heat winds through me. God, he used to be insatiable. I often wondered how—and why—he habitually left before the night was over, because his eyes always seared me with undisguised lust every time he walked out.

  “I’m older now,” I say, hating that my voice seems weak even to my own ears. “I need more than just a good lay to have a relationship with someone…and you can’t give the other part to me.”

  He finishes the last bite of his steak and leans back, ignoring the veggies on his plate. “Okay, let’s hear it. What do you need?”

  I laugh again. This man. “You think you can make it happen if you know what it is?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well you can’t. You aren’t capable.”

  He steeples his hands. “If you’re upset about Faye, I already told you it’s over, and I don’t plan on touching her, ever. As for your issue with Blake, I’ll make sure you never see him again.”

  A realization dawns on me. “You never wanted me to meet your family, did you?”

  He eyes me a little warily. “No.”

  My pulse accelerates, and my hands start trembling. I clench them, but that isn’t enough. I jump to my feet. “You ba
stard! If you wanted to make me feel cheap and dirty, congratulations. You’ve succeeded.” My vision blurs, and I realize I’m crying. I snatch my purse and run.

  “Ava!”

  I ignore his shout. The door closes behind me, cutting off a string of curses from him. Thankfully there’s an elevator waiting, and I rush inside and smack the buttons for CLOSE and LOBBY. When the elevator takes its sweet time, I jam my thumb against the CLOSE button repeatedly. Come on, come on!

  The doors finally start to draw together. I hear uneven footsteps, and see Lucas’s stark face in the diminishing gap.

  “Wait!”

  I step backward. The doors shut just in time, and the car starts descending. I sag against the wall behind me.

  Tears leave hot tracks down my cheeks, and I dry my face with a sleeve. What the hell is wrong with me? Why cry when I’ve always known what he thought of me, what I was to him?

  I keep my head lowered, humiliated and embarrassed that I’m wasting emotional energy on a man who doesn’t deserve it. I climb into a taxi and give the driver my address. As the car pulls away, I see Lucas running across the lobby toward the front doors.

  He bellows my name. Although I can’t hear it, I can read his lips.

  Very deliberately, I turn away and close my eyes. But it can’t stop the tears from staining my cheeks or my heart from bleeding all over again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lucas

  Fuck!

  What the hell just happened?

  The taxi vanishes beyond the intersection, and I smack a fist into the opposite palm. The doorman looks at me warily. He’s probably debating whether he should call the police or the closest mental institution.

  He asks something about a taxi, and I wave him off. I don’t have the time or energy to deal with the man.

  I stare at the road where her cab vanished. My heart says to go after her now, but my head tells me to give her a little space to pull herself together. She isn’t going to listen to a word I say until she’s calmer.

  My teeth dig into the inside of my cheek, drawing blood. Normally I would listen to my gut, but I can’t afford to at the moment. I’ve screwed up one too many times following what’s in my heart. The wisest course is to regroup and decide on my next move.