by Cassie Leigh
The washed out red windmill against a Parisian night sky drew Gigi’s eye—the water color that started her passion for art. A vacation to Paris at fifteen, her mother’s favorite city, changed the course of her life. There had been the usual tourist bait of the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe—fine, fine but boring. When the artist spun tales of the can-can dancers and courtesans, her interest sparked. The discovery of the story hidden inside those pictures—the meaning—sparked her curiosity at a time when cheerleading tryouts and who was taking who to spring formal absorbed her world view. Thanks to that little old man with his toothless smile, she’d walked into the Louvre with an open mind. It had been a bonus that her father had been horrified she purchased a painting of the Moulin Rouge.
The irony was not lost on her that her first piece of art depicted an upscale brothel masquerading as a dance revue, while her life was a performance designed to hide, using an assumed role to hide that she liked sex and to hide from love behind that sex. She could even draw comparisons between the dance hall and Ink Spinners. So many layers, like paint, overlapped to create the full story. Most of her gathered pieces were like that—street vendor art with hidden depth.
The phone pinged again and her smile spread. Maybe, she should call Roman back—invite him up. Or maybe a little tease over the phone, something to let him have his satisfaction. He’d taken care of her so thoroughly. She was down with whatever. Pulling a pillow into her lap, she hugged it to her chest and rifled through her purse with her free hand. She held up her phone and scanned the waiting text.
Dick Pic: Need to Talk. 10 Min at Red Barron.
Not Roman. The ice bucket challenge just dropped on her right there in her living room. The smile fell from her lips. Shit. Ignoring Dick Pic clearly wasn’t working.
Chad hadn’t stopped messaging her since dinner at her parent’s house. Most of the messages had been mildly pornographic. Thankfully, none of them were threatening. He would suggest they meet and she would never show. He’d try sexting or sending her videos of himself jacking off. She always told him no or asked him to stop in her responses. Then she saved it all. If this got any worse, she’d have to get a restraining order and she’d need evidence. She didn’t want it to come to that.
Now, it was time for a stronger approach. Good thing he’d picked a fairly public place. She stepped back out the door, relocked it, and then started towards the bar where she’d first asked him to pick her up over two weeks ago.
Despite the stalker boy toy and the epically awful sex, she’d met Roman. He was wonderful enough to make up for the shit show this joker wouldn’t stop putting her through. The one evening of non-sex she was having with Roman made all her other sexual experiences pale in comparison.
Yeah, she had to get rid of Chad fast. She didn’t know how this thing with Roman would play out or what she wanted from it. Chad could ruin it all if she let him. She wasn’t going to let him. She picked up her pace on the sidewalk and hoped to God that Roman hadn’t decided to come down here for a drink. This would be a bad time to run into him.
She stepped into the dimly lit bar. She liked it for its anonymity and the fact that she could walk there made it simpler to leave with her gentleman callers. It was a standard place as bars went, with the neon liquor signs, dark spaces and the pool tables one expects from such dives. On first glance, she didn’t look like she belonged. Few would guess she was more comfortable in her skin here than any swanky piano bar or urban nightclub others might expect her to frequent—not that she gave many people the chance to know this or anything else about her.
Chad waited at the corner of the bar facing the door. His eyes were dark and cold with anger. He dressed as if he’d come here straight from the office in dress slacks and a chambray dress shirt. He waited with rolled up shirtsleeves and his collar hanging open with his tie loose as if he pulled it to relieve the pressure at his throat. He’d planted his long legs wide as he leaned against the barstool.
Gigi approached with her chin up and shoulders back. She wouldn’t go into this confrontation meek because it was clear that’s what this was going to be. His own stance was combative and simmering with anger, probably from the way she’d been ignoring him.
As expected, he wasted no time calling her to task. His hand shot out gripping her arm and pulling her into his body. He spoke through gritted teeth. “Is that jerk you were kissin’ the reason you’ve been ignoring my messages?”
Jerking her arm free, Gigi took a step back from him and his breath that was rancid with the stench of stale beer. “The man I was kissing is none of your business. I’ve been answering your messages by telling you I’m not interested. I have been perfectly clear each time I answered.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer. Your father wants to see us together,” he said as he reached for her again.
Gigi sidestepped his touch. “I’m not interested in what he has planned for me. I’m my own woman. Not a doll for him to arrange a life for.”
His sneer was nasty, showing the vile human being she’d suspected he kept hidden under his skin. “How about I tell Daddy just what you’ve been up too?”
If she could spit fire, she would have. If she caved to his demands now, she’d never be rid of him. As much as she hated the idea of her family or anyone else knowing about her nocturnal activities, she’d rather that than let any part of this piece of trash touch her again. “You wouldn’t dare, not with so many of your own skeletons to keep. I swear I need to shower in disinfectant after touching your filth.”
“You like it dirty. Don’t pretend you don’t.” Chad reached out again and this time she wasn’t fast enough to avoid him as he grabbed her by the pussy.
Her hand snapped out and cracked him across the face. His hand fell away and every eye in the bar stopped to stare at her as she came unhinged. “You do not have my permission to touch me.” She turned on her heel and marched away.
“Gigi, wait.” Chad pleaded but stayed in his seat.
“Don’t contact me. I mean it.” She called over her shoulder, but she didn’t stop moving or turn back around. She practically sprinted home, afraid Dick Pic would follow her. She’d have to stop calling him that. It sounded too cutesy for someone ballsy enough to grab a woman like that in front of half the bar.
CHAPTER 8
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GIGI DIDN’T FEEL SAFE UNTIL she was behind the deadbolt on her apartment door. She felt dirty. And damn it—he ruined her post orgasmic high.
The phone in her bag dinged frantically and she was sure he was bombarding her with messages. Probably trying to get her to come back or worse, threatening her if she didn’t. She would not rise to it. She would not be bending for him or any other fool. How do you go back to chopped steak once you had Grade-A prime-cut beefcake? You don’t.
She wasn’t fully convinced she was ready for a relationship with a man like Roman, but there was zero chance of having one with Chad. Men like him were the reason she didn’t do relationships. She would not end up like her mother—not for any man. Which led her back around to Roman. She shouldn’t have taken the leap with him. It wasn’t fair since she was being so indecisive still. On the same token, it was done and she couldn’t put him back on a shelf.
Once again, she was in dire need of her best friend to help navigate these waters. Unfortunately, that was something else to feel guilty over. She promised Ann that she wouldn’t fool around with Roman. She lasted all of two weeks before she was coming apart in his hands literally and figuratively.
Gigi collapsed on her sofa. She dug the offending phone from her bag and tossed the purse to the ground at her feet. Cradling it in her lap, she stared down at the green and white speech bubble icon and the red circle with its number thirteen, taunting her. Ding. Correction, fourteen.
She pulled her chunky sweater tighter around her shoulders as if it was armor and dialed Ann. She couldn’t tell her best friend everything but she’d at least know what to do about Chad or o
ffer a shoulder to cry on. Not that the asshat deserved her tears.
It rang twice before Ann’s brisk cheerfulness came on the line. “Gigi? How’s it going? I’ve been seeing the buzz about the gallery event next Saturday. I knew you’d do right by my brother.”
That was Ann, sidestepping the personal and rushing straight to business talk before you could answer her first question. Gigi felt a stab of guilt at just how “right” she’d done Ann’s brother. Ann had trusted her and now Gigi rewarded that faith with secrets and half-truths.
“The gallery opening is coming along nicely. But that’s not why I called.” Gigi choked back a sob. “Things are getting worse with Chad. He messaged me tonight that he wanted to talk. I met up with him so I could tell him in person to leave me alone.”
“Tell me you went someplace public.” Her words came out in a rush of concern.
“Of course. But he grabbed me.” Her hands shook as she told Ann the rest of the story, leaving out that he’d seen her kissing Roman and maybe more.
When she finished the line was silent. She could hear Ann breathing so she knew she hadn’t lost signal. Gigi stood and began pacing the hardwood floors that ran the length of her open floor plan living space. “You’re freaking me out here, Ann.”
“I’m sorry I’m just…shocked is the word I’m looking for. I mean I always thought your boy toys were eventually going to lead to trouble.” Gigi hated being called out with an I told you so. Ann had never made it a secret that she disapproved of Gigi’s lifestyle but she rarely held it against her or made her feel bad for it. “No matter what I think, you don’t deserve trouble. You’re not doing anything wrong, not really.”
“There isn’t anything wrong with having a healthy appetite for sex and not waiting for prince charming to make you feel good.” Gigi voice came out more defensive than she’d meant but she firmly believed there was no shame in the life she’d been leading and when she wanted a better one she would change, like she was starting to do with Roman. In the meantime, she made no apologies.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to raise your hackles because you aren’t wrong.”
It did not escape Gigi’s notice that Ann didn’t say she was right either.
“I think you should start carrying pepper spray and maybe think about a restraining order.”
“I’ve thought about the restraining order too. He’s left me at least fourteen messages since I walked out of that bar. I’ve been saving them all for just that reason. But he is a lawyer and knows my father so I’m just not ready to take that step.”
“Will you at least have my brother walk you to your car at night?”
“Yeah, I can do that.” That would be happening anyway and probably a lot more for reasons Ann didn’t need to know.
Oh no—what if Roman told Ann about what they’d started? There was nothing Gigi could do to stop him that wouldn’t raise his suspicions about why. She’d have to press her luck.
“Thanks for letting me vent, Ann. I’m sorry I snapped at you a little.”
Gigi padded into the bathroom and cranked on the hot water. It suddenly sounded like a fantastic idea to wash off the stain of Chad’s violating touch. She only wanted to remember the parts of the day with Roman in them. She sat on the edge of the tub in her tiny apartment bathroom and tested the water, tempering it with cold until it was just right.
“I get it. I’m here anytime you need.” Ann hesitated as if she meant to say something else.
For a moment, Gigi wondered if Ann knew there was something Gigi was leaving out, but Gigi wasn’t brave enough to pursue it.
“You have a good night,” Ann said at last.
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This week with Gigi had been more than Roman could have hoped for. He was a romantic fool. Sitting in his office watching her like he was now, he worried a little. Gigi had been more than attentive to him when they were alone. What concerned him was her preoccupation with her cell phone. When she checked the frequent pings she chewed her bottom lip in an expression he’d learned meant something bothered her. Other times her eyes blazed with fury when she focused on it. Whenever she caught Roman watching, she smiled sweetly. Something was wrong there. Something she wanted to hide.
His sister’s cryptic phone call hadn’t helped either. His mind drifted back to the too brief conversation with Ann, mining it for clues that Gigi had yet to be forthcoming with.
“Roman, I need you to do me a favor because our girl Gigi isn’t going to ask.” Ann usually came across high-strung, but now the clipped tremor of her voice practically screamed trouble.
“What’s wrong?” His voice deepened with concern.
“I can’t tell you if she hasn’t, but I just need to be sure you walk her to her car at night and watch out for her whenever you guys are out together. I know you see her at Red Barron sometimes.”
So, Gigi hadn’t told Ann about them. That was okay, he wouldn’t mess with their friendship by spilling it now. It did make him wonder why she would hold that back. Seemed Gigi wasn’t all in despite her claims.
“You don’t have to worry, Ann. I’ll take good care of your friend.” It was an easy promise to keep since he planned to spend as much time together after hours as he could wrangle out of Gigi. She seemed a little averse to relationship basics like dinner dates.
“I know you will. That’s why I called. Trouble is, she doesn’t always take good care of herself. That’s all I’m going to say. She’ll murder me if she knows I talked to you about this.”
“No worries. I won’t say anything.”
He hadn’t said anything since they hung up that call. Now, watching Gigi, he had to wonder if the problem came from whoever messaged her on the other end of that cell phone.
The only thing easing Roman’s mind after that was the girl herself. Gigi always had a smile for him and when he walked her to her car at night, she sank into his kisses, hot and pliant, begging him to follow her home. He wasn’t ready and neither was she. He needed to know she was committed to this, committed to them.
Roman leaned back in his chair as Gigi sauntered into his office. She closed the door with a soft click before crossing the tight space. Stepping between his knees, she leaned her ass against the desk behind her. A full color mental image of her bent over that desk with her ass in the air had him adjusting himself.
He looked up at her, his gaze hooded. “What’s up, beautiful?”
“Just wanted to get your approval on a couple last minute details for the gallery event tomorrow night. Your next client isn’t for another thirty minutes so I thought now might be a good time.”
Roman sat forward, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Make it fast because I can think of a better way to use that time.”
She chuckled softly as she used her slender little fingers under his chin to tilt his head back to look up at her. “I’m sure you can, but let’s keep things professional while we’re here, shall we? You can always follow me home later.”
He huffed like a petulant child but stayed quiet, allowing her to get on with her business.
“I called around and it turns out our favorite drinking hole, the Red Barron, would be happy to step up tomorrow with their liquor license and serve your requested rosé and whiskey. I was able to rent a bar and the necessary glassware from the local event company, although if we do enough of these we might think of purchasing our own at some point. I’ve emailed you the quote, so if you could just pay the bill we’ll be all set.”
“If you emailed me you didn’t need to come and tell me. I think you came in here for something else, a happier distraction maybe?”
She laughed and pushed him, sending the chair rolling backwards. “Don’t flatter yourself. I know how you are.” She reached behind her and grabbed his sketchbook, waving the evidence like a flag. “You’re here sketching, not checking you emails, and I need that bill paid today.”
She tossed the sketchpad back down and pushed off the desk, turning to leave.
She got one hand on the door before she stopped and looked over her shoulder. Her voice was soft and the corner of her mouth turned up flirtatiously. “I bought something special to wear tomorrow night. I was hoping at the end of the night you’d come home with me so that I can show you.”
Maybe she was ready. It also occurred to him that if he kept telling her no, then eventually she’d lose interest or think he had. It couldn’t be further from the truth. He wanted her so bad on his best day that he had trouble breathing when she was in the room whether her intoxicating green eyes were on him or not.
“Tomorrow can’t get here fast enough,” he answered at last.
Her smile sparked brighter and then she slipped out the door.
CHAPTER 9
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GIGI HAD BEEN PLANNING THIS event since the first moment she walked into this shop and knew this job could be hers for the taking. Now the gallery show was here and she was almost sorry—not sorry— that she wanted it over with as soon as politely possible. It was utterly selfish of her to think like that. This event meant so much to Roman and Declan. It would be the making of the gallery side of their business.
She blamed Roman. With every stolen moment making out with Roman like a teenager, her need climbed to dizzying heights that no man had ever drawn from her. Tonight was going to be the night. No rule or promise would hold her back after the long teasing game he’d played all week. He fingered her as if she was a sixteen-year-old virgin for fuck’s sake and she begged for it!
Was this love? She didn’t know. What she did know was that every conversation or shared laughter, every secret look, brought her closer to that elusive feeling. She had never even imagined it could be this way or that she would like it this much. She might burn in purgatory for breaking her word to her best friend, but she’d burn with a smile because so far, it had all been worth every broken rule.