An Unlikely Deal

by Nadia Lee

  It’s going to be okay, I tell myself. I still have the job offer in Chiang Mai. I’ll just go there. The pay’s comparable to my current school, and given the low cost of living in Thailand, the money will stretch much further.

  I go back to the teachers’ office to grab my bag and the few personal items I have in my desk. Sato-sensei looks at me with concern, but the other teachers avoid meeting my eyes. Heads down, don’t make waves. The Japanese way.

  As I start walking toward the subway stop, I pull out my phone. These aren’t the circumstances under which I would’ve liked to take the new job, but I do my best to look at the bright side. Bennie’s considering going back to the States, and what would I have done by myself in Japan anyway?

  Mr. Liu likes me, and so does his son. I should be all right in Chiang Mai.

  I open my email app. A new message from the school in Thailand regarding the offer is waiting for me in my inbox. I tap on the subject line—Re: Your Offer.

  Dear Ms. Huss,

  We regret to inform you that we are rescinding our offer, as new information has come to light about you. Thailand is a traditional nation that values moral conduct, and it seems you may not be a good fit at our school.

  To clarify, our decision on this matter is final.

  Sincerely,

  Nigel Jackson

  Headmaster

  My vision dims for a moment, and I stare at the email, unable to process it. Is this some kind of cosmic joke?

  When Nigel and I had tea together with Mr. Liu, both the men were sweet and complimentary. What changed? What “new information” is he talking about?

  Maybe the same thing Kouchou-sensei grilled me about this morning…?

  I stop in the middle of the sidewalk, my arm dropping limply to my side. I assumed Mishima-sensei was behind Kouchou-sensei finding out about my living situation, but maybe I was wrong. Mishima-sensei may be a busybody, but she probably has better things to do than follow me around looking for lapses in moral rectitude.

  I’ll give you until tomorrow.

  I got that note from Lucas on Monday…and today’s Wednesday.

  I start shaking from head to toe. Every cell in my body is vibrating with tension and searing fury. He has no right! No right to screw up my life. The first time our orbits crossed, he crushed my heart. This time he’s destroying my ability to be self-sufficient and independent. He’s trying to demolish my pride, reduce me to a hole he can stick his cock in whenever he’s bored or horny.

  I’ll kill him first.

  I hail a cab. The driver stops and opens the door with the automatic lever thing all Japanese taxis have. I slide in and give him the name of the hotel where Lucas was staying earlier. If my guess is correct, he won’t have left the country yet. No, he’s too busy pulling strings to ruin my life.

  My phone beeps with another new email alert. I jump for it, hoping and praying that the school in Thailand changed its mind.

  But the new message is from Google. It’s about my dad’s “other” family. The real one.

  Elle—the daughter who counts—is engaged to some lawyer she met in Boston where she works as a financial analyst. They look so happy in the photos she posted on her blog. Her fiancé grins at her with a soft gaze full of love, his arms around her waist. Elle is blond like me, although her eyes are green like her mother’s. She looks into the camera with a confident smile.

  Well, why not? People apparently adore her. Most likely nobody’s trying to wreck her life. And her fiancé is looking at her like she’s his dream come true.

  Though we aren’t close—hell, she wishes I didn’t exist—we are half-sisters. My vision starts to blur. What does she have that I don’t? Why does she have everything while I can’t even try to make something of myself without someone pulling the rug out from under me?

  A lone, slightly startling drop of moisture lands on my phone.

  I dry it off and put it back into my purse. Then I wipe away the rest of the tears on my face. Lucas is not worth this. I am not giving my enemies the satisfaction of seeing me suffer.

  I pull out my compact and travel-sized tissue packs. I’m not going to face Lucas with smeared mascara and eyeliner, either. I repair the makeup as well as I can and put more powder on my nose to hide the redness there. Except for slightly red-rimmed eyes, I don’t look awful. I apply a fresh layer of blush.

  When the taxi stops in front of the hotel, I pay the fare and get out. The doorman bows with a polite greeting, and I nod and trot to the elevator. I remember exactly which suite belongs to Lucas.

  A “Do Not Disturb” sign hangs outside the double doors, clear evidence that he’s still in town. Not that many people spend thousands of dollars a night on a suite like this.

  Fucking bastard.

  I knock loudly and wait. When nobody answers, I bang with a fist, and press my ear to the door.

  Did Lucas already check out?

  But that doesn’t make any sense. He’s gone this far to get what he wants. He isn’t going to leave before he’s achieved his objective of dragging me back to America to be his exclusive whore.

  “Don’t you fucking play games with me!” I pound on the doors with enough force to make them shake.

  Suddenly they open, revealing Lucas in nothing but a white bath towel around his trim waist. His hair is damp and slicked back, revealing both eyes and the scar on his unfairly handsome, freshly shaven face. A drop of water clings to his chest, just above his left nipple, which is pierced. I used to play with the silver ring there, making him shudder in reaction. I loved the way he responded helplessly then, the flesh between my legs going slick every time.

  The memory makes my breath catch, and my own reaction intensifies my fury. I should be finding him disgusting, contemptible for what he’s done to me, all because he’s horny. Why me? Why doesn’t he just go fuck someone else?

  He has an insatiable appetite. He’s probably not alone.

  The thought sends blithering jealousy through me, and suddenly I can’t control myself anymore. If he wants to fuck me, he should at least have the decency to keep his dick in his pants around other women. Or maybe it doesn’t matter. He only cares about what he wants, not my feelings.

  Without a word, I shove past him into the room, on full alert for any sign of a companion. The suite is as I remembered, and I don’t spot anything, not even a scrap of lace.

  His dark eyes flicker with surprise as he turns around, his hands pushing the doors closed. “Ava.”

  I spin around to face him. “Don’t you Ava me, you son of a bitch!”

  “What’s this about?”

  “You fucking bastard. You told the school about me living with Bennie, didn’t you?”

  Shutters come down over his eyes, making him appear impossibly aloof. He radiates the self-possessed calm and arrogance that can only come from an unshakable conviction that he is entitled to everything he wishes for.

  If I needed proof of how different—how incompatible—we are, I only need to see this side of him.

  “Do you have any idea how the principal at my school treated me? She acted like I was a harlot! A slut! Then I got a message from the school in Chiang Mai where I interviewed telling me they’re rescinding their offer now that they know I’m an amoral whore.”

  The muscles in his face tense, his alert gaze on mine.

  “So great. Congratulations. You just destroyed my career and means of supporting myself. I hope you’re happy.”

  “Ava, that wasn’t what I was trying to do,” he says tightly.

  “Really?” I pull back exaggeratedly, then fling my arm out. “You sure could’ve fooled me.”

  “If you want to be independent, I can arrange for that. I can give you money—no strings attached. A million or two should be enough to set you up…unless you want more.”

  My breath heaves, blood roaring in my head. This is just like him, to think everything can be resolved with money and things it can buy.

  Not just any money, bu
t his money. His gifts.

  “I don’t want your damned money.”

  “It’s a gift.”

  “You mean payment for being your whore.” I pick up a vase with a single red rose from the low table by the window and hurl it at him. He ducks before it can connect with his face.

  “What the fuck?” he yells.

  “You’re saying ‘what the fuck’ after throwing money at me? You crushed my hea—” I catch myself. I am not letting him know I actually loved him back then. “You cost me my current job. You got me fired from a school where I haven’t even started. What do you want to destroy now? My pride? My spirit?” My fists shake at my sides. “I don’t think I was ever that good of a fuck, so what’s your problem? Ego couldn’t take that I left you, and now you want me to pay on my knees? Would that get you to leave me alone?”

  “This isn’t about sex or hurt feelings or ego! It has nothing to do with those things.”

  He crosses the living room until he’s standing only a hairsbreadth away from me and wraps his big, warm hands around my arms. I can smell the soap clinging on his clean, taut skin, and I hate myself for noticing.

  “I would never work this hard just for sex, Ava. This is about how I feel about you.”

  How I feel about you…

  How cheap is that phrase? How empty?

  A lot of people have said that even as they knew they were betraying me. Dad said it. Mom said it. Ex-boyfriends said it.

  Don’t you know how I feel about you?

  How can you not know how I feel about you?

  Like it’s some kind of character flaw that I can’t figure out how little they cared for me.

  “Feel? Feel? You feel nothing for me!” I yell in a voice so raw that my throat hurts. “I’m just a dirty little secret you don’t want your family to know.”

  “Is that what you think?” he asks hoarsely.

  “What else am I supposed to think? You did everything in your power to ensure your family and friends would never find out about me.”

  “It’s not like that.” He closes his eyes for a moment as though gathering his thoughts. “I wish I could just…rip my heart out and show you all the crazy things I feel about you.”

  The earnest tone of his voice finally penetrates. But I’m not anywhere near ready to let go of my anger and outrage. I cross my arms across my chest. “Well, why don’t you just settle for an explanation? And if I don’t like it, I’ll fucking rip your heart out and show it to you. How about that?”

  His Adam’s apple bobs. “I never wanted you just for your body. I wanted you the moment we met because of your loyalty and kindness.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake! And how could you have known those things about me?” Lucas and I met at a Chinese restaurant near UVA where I was waitressing three days a week. He asked me out when my shift was over.

  “Because I watched you with Mrs. Ling and overheard that conversation about how you were helping them manage the restaurant after she broke her hip. Not even her own son came back for that.”

  “Because he has a career in New York.”

  “Which he put above his parents. But you didn’t, even when Mrs. Ling fretted she might not be able to keep you much longer.”

  Talking about it takes me back. “Her husband wanted to close the restaurant and retire. He was fed up with the business.”

  “And their son wanted them to as well. But you were more concerned about her condition, how stressed she was, than your future unemployment.” Lucas gives me an earnest look. “Do you have any idea how rare and precious that is?”

  I don’t know how to respond. I never imagined he was watching so closely.

  “When I’m with you,” he says, “I feel like I’m in possession of the most precious jewel in the world. And you’re right: I don’t want anyone else to see it. Because if they do, they’ll covet you and want to take you away. I want to hide you away, keep you under lock and key, so I never lose you.”

  A dull shade of red has tinged his cheeks, and his face is set in hard, unyielding lines, daring me to reject the truth of his words. There’s tension in the way he’s holding his body, and I know he wants to shift his weight, squirm, look away—anything but stare me in the eye and wait for my reaction.

  It’s my turn to swallow. In those months we were together, I never imagined he could be this vulnerable, that I might have this much power over him…and now, that I would still have such influence.

  Suddenly it’s no longer in my heart to be angry. I put my hands on his cheeks.

  “I do have a mind of my own, you know,” I say quietly.

  His gaze is skeptical. Not because he doesn’t believe me, but rather he doesn’t believe I’ll stay with him. He worries I’ll somehow find him lacking.

  I recognize the look; I’ve felt that way myself. My heart aches. I don’t know what or who caused him to think this way about himself, but I hate them for having done it. This kind of self-assessment is pure hell.

  “No one is going to take me away just because they want to,” I add. “The only person who can make me leave is you.”

  “Then tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”

  I shake my head. How do I explain to him when his brother said all those horrible things to me at the hospital, they stirred up my old insecurities and sense of worthlessness? I don’t want to relive a second of my past.

  Apparently interpreting my silence as my refusal to give him a chance, he tightens his hold on me. “I’m not letting you go.”

  Determination glints in his eyes. He dips his head, his tongue brushing against my mouth. My hands are still on his cheeks, and if I want, I can push him away. But I can’t bring myself to reject him after he’s revealed such vulnerability.

  He’s never done that before, and I want to show him how much it means to me.

  When I meet his tongue with mine, a deep groan tears from his throat. Our lips seal together. I slide my palms up until the fingers tunnel into his damp hair. He tastes like homecoming and Lucas and everything I’ve missed over the last two years.

  “Ava,” he whispers, his warm breath against my face.

  I shiver. My heart is bursting, and I can’t articulate all the emotions churning inside at the moment. The only thing to do is act.

  I pull him closer. Through the layer of my thin sweater, I feel the heat radiating from his bare body. I glide my hands along the strong lean lines of his neck and back. My fingertips tingle as they relearn the beauty of his body.

  His hands release my arms to skim along my torso over the sweater, tracing shoulders, ribs, the small of my back. When they reached my waistline, they tug gently, untucking my top. He slips his hands underneath and touches my belly, and I gasp at how hot his bare skin feels against mine.

  “You have no idea how I’ve wanted this. How I dreamed of it,” he rasps into my neck.

  I tilt my head to give him easier access. “It’s been so long.”

  “You haven’t…been with anyone else?”

  “No. They weren’t you,” I say, unveiling a facet of my own vulnerability. It seems only right after what he’s revealed.

  He rests his forehead against mine and lets out a shuddering breath. “It’s been so long for me, too,” he says in a shaky whisper.

  A tiny hope stirs inside me.

  “After you were gone, it’s like my body went into some kind of…hibernation. Nothing—no work, no woman—could wake it up. I barely felt alive.”

  Suddenly I understand. “This is what you meant when you said I took something from you, isn’t it?”

  He nods.

  Relief leaves me staggering. And with that, I feel free. “Then let’s make this count.” I pull his head down for another kiss.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lucas

  Yes, yes, let’s make this count. Let us make this count until we can’t imagine not being together like this again.

  I’m no longer restrained. I devour Ava’s mouth, starved for her sweetness.
A blistering lust pulses through my veins—I’m alive again, at last!—and I shake with the intensity of it, my skin taut and hot.

  I pull the flimsy pale blue sweater over her head, and immediately dive in to kiss the sensitive spot just under her ear. This close, I can sense the tiniest quiver running through her, the quietest hitch in her breath. And her reactions are glorious, like the sun finally peeking through dark, stormy clouds.

  My hands are clumsy with need, but I try to rein in my raging lust. There’s no longer a question about my interest or ability to perform. The only thing is to make it good for Ava, who also hasn’t been with anyone for two years.

  I want to be the best for her.

  My thumb brushes against the soft underside of her breast through the lacy bra. It’s thin enough that I can see her rosy nipples clearly. They pebble under my gaze, and my mouth waters. It’s been so damn long, but I know exactly how to make her burn. Every fantasy I’ve had in the last two years starred Ava…and me, doing all the things I know will make her cry out for me.

  I flick the straps off her shoulders and push the bra down. The elastic bands trap her arms, and I love how her tits rise and fall. They aren’t large, barely a mouthful, but there are no breasts finer than Ava’s. Blue veins show under the nearly translucent skin, and I let my tongue flutter over them.

  Her breathing grows shallow with anticipation, and my erection twitches in response. My dick’s so hard, it’s almost painful.

  Still, I take my time loving her beautiful tits, then fan the tightly beaded tip with hot breath. The muscles in her belly jerk, and I pull the nipple into my mouth.

  She cries out, “Lucas!” and her knees buckle.

  My mouth sealed over her breast, I hold her close, sucking the sensitive mound like my life depends on it. She’s so damn addictive, so damn perfect. Her heady jasmine and vanilla scent grows stronger, and my head spins as I grow drunk on her.

  I pull away, then give the other breast the same attention. Ava whimpers deep in her throat, sweat misting over her warm, flushed skin. Her mounting need stokes my lust, my dick tenting the towel around my waist. It’s maddening not to just rip everything off and drive into her, but I keep myself together. I want to feel her come first.