The Secret Arrangement

by Vanessa Waltz

  "Why do you even care?"

  I don’t know. "Morbid curiosity. You used to be best friends."

  He sighs, his smile flattening. "As much as I’d love to dish the dirt on Henry, I wouldn’t feel right. It’s personal," he says, voice softening. "And the reason why I do all these stupid stunts."

  "To punish him?" If he wanted to be vindictive, he could easily give the goods on my brother. He hasn’t. My curiosity will eat me alive.

  "I guess." He shrugs.

  I shouldn’t pry. "We don’t have to discuss it. Let’s not pretend this is more than it is."

  "We’re friends with benefits." His deep voice soothes me. "That means you can talk about anything."

  That’s not what we promised each other at the start of this. We agreed to keep it simple. Just sex. Confiding in Grayson complicates our arrangement. I’m already sleeping with the enemy. What’ll Henry do if I fall for him?

  But I can’t gaze into Grayson’s eyes and tell him to back off. "It’s my dad’s fault he came out like this." I move from him, stepping into the bitterness rolling my tongue. "Dad paid for my school and apartment, so... I feel ungrateful for complaining."

  "Sounds like they turned their backs on you."

  They did. "I thought moving in here and being close to my brother would help, but now I see how far away he is. It hurts like hell." Tears build behind my eyes, and I turn from Grayson, who has pity written all over his face. "Let’s not talk about it, okay?"

  I expect him to sweep out of the room at the sound of my choked voice, but his chest bumps into my back, and he snakes an arm around my waist. I find his hand, intertwining my fingers with his. This isn’t right—we’re not supposed to be close—but it feels damned good, and I don’t want to let him go.

  "I grew up in a big family," he says. "Four sisters, no brothers. Lots of conversations about periods."

  I laugh, brushing my cheeks. "That’s too bad."

  "I met Grayson in college, and he was like the brother I always wanted. So I guess he’s been a disappointment to us both."

  He is, isn’t he?

  Grayson kisses my head, sending butterflies soaring in my stomach. "When’s this dinner of yours and where?"

  "It’s at seven at the—wait, why?"

  "No reason," he blurts.

  I turn in his arms, suspicious. "Grayson."

  "What? I’m just curious."

  "Play foosball with Tipsy or something. You’ll be fine."

  "Excuse me," he says. "Tipsy?"

  My cheeks burn. "I have a hard time remembering who everyone is, so I gave you all nicknames."

  He grins. "Even me?"

  "Yes."

  I move away, but he tugs at my arm. "What is it?"

  "It’s stupid."

  "Don’t care. I want to know. Is it Sexy? No, it’s Cocky. Or BP for Big Penis."

  "Dimples," I say, tracing them on his cheek.

  They carve deeper into his face with his smile. Damn, I’ll never get tired of seeing that. "Lame. What about Titus?"

  "Who’s that?"

  "Surfer guy with blond hair."

  "Oh, that’s Ditzy. If you tell him that, Grayson, I'll kill you."

  I feel his laughter through my chest. "Shit, this is good blackmail material."

  Throwing him a glare, I yank the door open and gesture outside. "Don’t even think about it."

  Bodyguards usher me into Henry’s black Audi, which shines like a dark gem. A man with a neck as thick as my thigh stands near the side-view mirror, a jacket wrapped around his chest. I duck, waving at Tipsy, who stood at the entrance of the house to see us off. I search through the glowing windows for Grayson, who vanished after I shooed him out of my room. My phone buzzes with a text from him: Have fun tonight :)

  I message back: Where are you?

  Grayson: Somewhere ;) I thought being nosy was against the rules.

  Me: Why do I get the feeling you’re up to no good?

  Grayson: Because I usually am. You owe me for canceling. I’ll come by later to collect.

  I smile at the screen, heat rising to my face at the promise in his words. He’ll visit me when it’s past midnight, everyone’s asleep, and no one can hear our whispered moans and the thump of the headboard. Last night flashes through my head in lurid images. God, he was incredible. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at him and not feel a patch burning my cheeks.

  Henry thanks his guard before sliding in next to me. I close the phone before he glimpses the text bubble messages with Grayson’s name. I shove it deep into my purse, heart racing with the thought of what he’d do. Henry already suspects Grayson and I fooled around on the beach. Maybe he thinks it was a one-time thing. If he knew I flouted his stupid rule the day I met Grayson, he’d be super pissed. There’s more than a little guilt wrestling with desire, but I don’t want to give up Grayson. For the life of me, I can’t see the harm in a brief, hot fling.

  The car lurches forward. My heart gallops ahead as thoughts of Grayson sweep from my head, replaced by the anxiety of meeting my sister-in-law.

  Please like me. Please, please, please.

  Nervous, I glance at Henry. He wears a pair of slacks and a button-up shirt, which is upscale for California. Thank God I didn’t ditch the cocktail dress when I purged everything for my move. It’s too tight around my stomach, but it’ll do for dinner.

  Henry throws me a puzzled look. "What’s with you?"

  "I’m worried."

  "About meeting Gisele?" His lips curl. "She’s a sweetheart, don’t worry."

  Perusing through the Spanish tapas restaurant’s Yelp page before ironing my dress was stressful because I can’t remember the last time I experienced fine dining. "I’m uncultured swine. I do worry."

  "You’re not that bad."

  Thanks, bro. "Where did you guys meet?"

  I gaze out the window at the sleeping city of Santa Barbara. Couldn’t be more dead. It’s strange, coming from San Francisco. The streets aren’t ever not flooded with people.

  "We met at charity gala event. She’s a professional model."

  "Yeah, I know." I Googled the hell out of her when I learned Henry was married.

  He gives me a look. "I’m sorry you weren't invited to the wedding. It’s just—Father didn’t want you there, and you hadn’t been part of the family in so long."

  The apology falls flat and cold. My skin crawls with the memory of opening that email and discovering a half-dozen pictures of my brother’s marriage ceremony. There was no reason to exclude me, other than he blamed me for Mom. Sorry doesn’t change the fact he didn’t want me there. I expected it from Dad. Not him.

  The world dims, and I fight against the cold gripping my heart. "I haven’t because Dad cut me out."

  Henry’s fists tighten over his slacks. "That’s not true."

  "Last I checked, I’m still his daughter, but you’re the only one with an inheritance." A frown creases Henry’s forehead, and I sigh. "Relax. I’m over it. Didn't want to be rich anyway."

  "He’s never given me a penny, Saff. I built my savings from the ground up when I signed with the Grizzlies."

  "I don’t care about the damn money." All this time, and he thinks I’m still bitter. "My father disowned me. You weren’t talking to me."

  Henry’s voice lowers to a hush. "You stopped coming to Christmas."

  "Did you think I’d keep going when everyone blames me for what happened?"

  Beams of light scan across Henry’s face as we pass street lamps, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down. He meets my gaze with Mom’s eyes, and it hurts because she never looked at me like that. If she’d survived, she would’ve said it wasn’t my fault. Screw him for blaming me.

  The Audi rolls to a halt in front of a restaurant glowing with a string of outdoor lights and heat lamps. The sidewalk teems with men, who leap at the sight of our car.

  I jump as a man's body slaps the glass. "Shit!"

  "They’re just fans," Henry says in a drawl.
"Don’t worry."

  The second vehicle with Henry’s bodyguards stops behind us. They stream outside, forming a barrier between the rabid people and the walkway leading to the restaurant. The driver steps out and opens our door, and the screams blast my ears. A flash blinds me as I take the bodyguard’s hand. I stagger into Henry’s chest. He pushes my upper back, beaming as his arm wraps around my shoulder. I chuckle at the sight of his ridiculous grin, stretched ear to ear.

  "That smile almost makes you look human," I shout over the noise.

  Henry fakes a laugh and clasps hands with some of his fans. They beg him for autographs and selfies. He indulges a few before tapping me and heading into the restaurant. People decked head to toe in Grizzlies gear scream his name hoarse, and photographers lean from the barrier, blinding me with shots. Tomorrow’s news feed will show me cringing from the light like Gollum.

  We squeeze through the narrow opening. It’s so dark my eyes take a moment to adjust. We pass an area filled with glowing surfaces and a sleek, modern fireplace smack dab in the middle. The hostess greets us with a warm smile and addresses my brother by name. "Welcome, Mr. Pardini. Let me show you to your table."

  She takes us through the lounge and upstairs to a private deck. A giant fig tree sprawls over the tables and chairs, lights intertwined in the branches. Potted plants sit everywhere, giving the impression that we’re having dinner in a grove. Low-hanging, dark purple fruit are within reach of my fingers. A sign at the base of the tree encourages guests to taste the figs. I’ve never seen anything like it.

  The hostess leads us to a square table where a woman with a long, graceful neck sits, decked head to toe in couture. The flowing black silk billows around her ultra-thin frame as she bends to receive a kiss from my brother. "Gisele, this is my sister."

  Gisele turns her stunning face to mine. "Hi, it’s wonderful to finally meet you."

  She forgoes my handshake and stands, hugging me. I return her embrace with a laugh. "Me too. How are you?"

  "Sit, sit," Gisele says. "I want to hear all about you."

  Surprised by her warmth, I take my chair and smooth the dress over my thighs. Henry sits, grabbing the wine list. A rosy cocktail drink garnished with a tiny mint leaf rests in front of Gisele. As Henry orders a glass of Pinot, I glance at the cocktails. Everything’s at least thirteen bucks.

  "The drinks are marvelous," Gisele says. "I always beg Henry to make reservations whenever I visit. Have you ever been here?"

  "I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten at a restaurant with over two dollar signs on Yelp." Even with my salary at the firm, I would’ve never been able to afford a place like this. It makes me feel guilty for being a burden to Henry. I know we’ll leave here with him paying the bill, and he’s got more than enough to go around, but I push the cocktail list away. "I think I’ll pass."

  Though the blood-orange margarita looks freaking amazing.

  Gisele’s husky voice lifts in surprise. "You’re sure? They’re delicious. Everything’s locally sourced, and they make their own shrubs and infused liquors."

  "Yeah, I’ll just have water."

  "Suit yourself. I’m getting my drank on."

  Which sounds hilarious in her thick accent. "Where are you from?"

  "Italy," she says, stirring the straw in her glass. "Your brother and I met in a photo shoot. Did he tell you?"

  "Yeah, he mentioned it."

  She grasps my arm. "He asked me on a date. Actually, he told my assistant to ask me out." She laughs at my brother’s expense, who frowns. "And I said yes because I’d been with way too many cocky guys. Why not give him a chance, you know?"

  Henry takes his wife’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "She doesn’t need to hear the whole story."

  "What?" Gisele’s smile betrays the tone in her voice. "I’m trying to make your sister comfortable."

  "I am!" My elbows stiffen as a waiter leans over my shoulder, refilling my glass. "Really."

  She pushes her drink in front of me. "Take a sip. I insist."

  My brother’s wife is warm and friendly. I thought he’d marry someone cold like him, but Gisele is a delight to be around. I’d relax, but even she can’t make me at ease in this place. It’s beautiful, and I don’t belong here. The contents of the menu escape me, and the prices of the small plates are way beyond reasonable. Feigning a stomach upset, I point at the fifteen-dollar heirloom tomato salad.

  "Oh, you poor thing!" Gisele digs through her purse, dropping a piece of candy on the table. "Take this. It’s ginger—it helps."

  Smiling, I unwrap the sweet and pop it in my mouth. Gisele watches me intently. "I’ve bugged Henry to meet you for weeks."

  I choke. "Really?"

  "Yes. I'd no idea he had a sister until your aunt mentioned you."

  I gaze at Henry, who has the grace to look ashamed. "Gisele."

  "What?" she says, wide-eyed. "It’s strange that you don’t spend time with your family."

  "Not all families are close, hon."

  Confusion knits her carved eyebrows together. She glances from me to her husband, too polite to ask why. And Henry gives me a meaningful glare: Make her shut up.

  "When Mom passed away, everyone took it hard." I suck my bottom lip. The pain of almost ten years ago echoes with my father banishing me. "I guess it fractured the family."

  Her eyes gleam. "I see."

  Henry opens his mouth, but then the waiter serves the food. My salad is smaller than the palm of my hand, but my appetite is gone anyway.

  Gisele pokes at her short ribs, glancing at me with a sorrowful gaze. I wish I could tell her it’s not her fault, but Henry’s glare across the table warns me to keep quiet. If this dinner gets me in his good graces, it’ll be worth it. Right?

  Gradually, the mood lightens with Gisele’s brave attempts to engage in conversation. It’s sweet of her to try so hard, but my heart’s not in it. My brother only set this up because his wife wouldn’t stop pestering him. It’s more about placating her than a desire for us to meet, and once again I let my hopes build up. When summer ends, Henry and I will go our separate ways. The salad tastes like paper, and I look through the branches of the fig tree at the night sky, wishing I could be somewhere else. With anyone else.

  Henry’s face turns a shade of sour milk. Hands grip my chair as a man leans over my shoulder. "You're sexy as fuck tonight," Grayson whispers in my ear. "How come you don't wear that dress for me?"

  Then he kisses my cheek before I can squeak a reply, and Gisele makes an excited shriek. "Grayson! Oh my God!"

  Frozen, I watch as Gisele stands and throws her arms around Grayson, who’s smartly dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a brown blazer over a navy button-up shirt. I’ve never seen him in anything but shorts and T-shirts.

  "Hey, girl. How’ve you been?" Grayson pats Gisele’s back.

  "Good, good. I haven’t heard from you in ages, but I keep seeing your parties in the tabloids." She puts her hands on her hips. "How come you don't invite me?"

  Laughter shakes from his chest. "Your husband wouldn’t want you at one of my events."

  "I’m Italian, baby. I don’t give a damn about your Topless Tuesdays."

  "They’re on Thursdays, but all right. I’ll keep that in mind."

  Henry clears his throat. If I weren't trying so hard to get on his good side, I’d find his expression hilarious. "How did you know we’d be here?"

  Grayson shrugs. "A little bird told me."

  Fuck.

  Henry’s accusing stare finds me. Like I knew he’d show up!

  Gisele flaps her hands. "Let’s grab a chair."

  "Nah, I wouldn’t want to barge in on your dinner," Grayson says.

  "Don’t be ridiculous!" Gisele says, yanking one from a nearby table and shoving it beside me. "Sit."

  Grayson pauses, speaking with the perfect amount of hesitation. "Well, if you’re sure."

  "Yes, of course!" she booms.

  Grayson settles into the seat, grinning at Henry
when his wife flags the waiter. He mouths at Grayson. "What the hell are you doing?"

  Frankly, I’m wondering that too. He’s not planning to make a scene, is he?

  "Get me the lobster tail," he tells the server. "And bring me a fruity cocktail. I don’t care what it is." Then he seizes my unfinished salad plate and shovels slices of tomato in his mouth. He makes an orgasmic sound. "Great decision, babe."

  His choice of words doesn’t go unnoticed by Gisele. "Wait—you two are dating?"

  "No," I blurt. Grayson smiles at me as though I told an adorable joke.

  "Wow, I-I think that’s great." She squares her shoulders at her husband, her smile faltering. "Henry, you never said Grayson was going out with your sister."

  There’s definitely a note of accusation in her words. "That’s because I didn’t know until now."

  I stamp on Grayson’s foot. "We’re not—"

  "Oh my God," Gisele says. "Come over for the Fourth of July party. The whole family will be there."

  My chest tightens. "My Dad, too?"

  Henry intervenes, touching his wife. "Not a good idea."

  "Why not?" she says, needled.

  Grayson slides an arm around my shoulders. "We’d love to go."

  "Actually," Henry cuts in. "We’ve already sent the invitations, and there’s a limited amount of seating at the house."

  Aghast, she turns toward her husband. "Give me a break, Henry. There’s more than enough room."

  "Yeah," Grayson says. "It’s only a half-hour flight to San Francisco. No big deal."

  I'll stab his thigh with my fork. "I can't afford a plane ticket."

  Gisele waves me off. "We’ll pay for it."

  The table rattles with Henry’s fist slamming into the wood, and Gisele jumps in her seat. "I don’t want him in my life. How many goddamn times do I have to say it?"

  Gisele’s eyes slowly fill with tears. "I-I’m sorry."

  It breaks my heart. She’s been nothing but nice, and judging from Grayson's horrified expression, he didn’t expect his prank to get this reaction.

  And now the whole evening is ruined. "I need to use the restroom. Excuse me."

  Wiping my face, I flee past the other tables, ignoring the bathroom stall to descend the stairs. I’m in such a hurry to leave this damn restaurant that I don’t realize I’ve lost a sandal until my foot touches the bare concrete.