“No problem.” The waiter took our order, tucked his electronic device that’d most likely already sent our order to the kitchen into his vest pocket, and collected our menus. The moment he left, awkwardness fell on the table.
Steve glanced at me then Greg. “So, you two, what’s new in the world of twenty something’s?”
I smiled for his sake, not Greg’s. “Well, you know my world. You see me every day at the office.”
“And you know mine because you see me every day at home.” Greg rolled his eyes.
He was twenty-five and still lived at home.
Here, I could be smug and look down my nose. A few months ago, I’d moved out of the brownstone and into my own top-floor apartment only two buildings away from Belle Elle headquarters.
I’d cheated and bought it fully furnished, so some of the furniture wasn’t to my taste, but I didn’t have time to interior design or visit the stores or even browse our own shop for decorations. It had taken all my courage to move out, especially after Dad’s heart attack, but I couldn’t be there anymore.
Dad had understood.
He’d supported me and helped me pack and move the meager possessions in my bedroom and a few knickknacks from the living room.
For the first week, Sage had caterwauled at the view, telling me off for removing her from the brownstone where she could sneak into the garden late at night and do whatever it was that cats do. In the new place, she was glass and concrete bound, looking at the clouds rather than rodents.
“How are you enjoying your own place, Elle?” Steve followed my train of thought, surprising me.
I shrugged, smoothing out my napkin over my lap. “It’s good. The building has great services with a gym and pool. It even has movie nights and neighbor parties once a month.”
Not that I’ve been to any of them.
“That’s fantastic.” Steve grinned. “Perhaps Greg could come over one day, and you can show him how easy it is to live on your own. Get him out from under my feet.”
“Yeah, good one, old man.” Greg snickered, sipping his gin and tonic.
I shuddered, doing my best to hide the horror at the thought of having Greg in my apartment. With me. Alone. Of kissing Greg. Of letting him remove my dress and touch me. Of letting him see me naked and sticking his—
All right, stop right there.
I no longer lived at home and was one of the few women on the Forbes’ richest list. I’d achieved so much, but in reality...in the three years since my first kiss, nothing had changed.
I hadn’t been kissed since—unless a friendly peck on the cheek from doting father figures counted. I hadn’t been naked around anyone, male or female. I still held the curse of not having enough time to lose my virginity.
Most days, I had no libido because I worked such long hours. But some nights, I remembered how it felt to be touched and have a man’s tongue in my mouth and how I physically ached for something I hadn’t understood that night on a baseball field.
And I delivered a release I’d become rather expert at.
“Yes, Elle. I could come over...say next week?” Greg rubbed his shoe against my leg, snagging my pantyhose and no doubt causing a ladder. “I could bring a bottle of wine. We could finally get to know each other.”
Steve scowled at the heavy reference to sex but didn’t interfere. After all, we weren’t children anymore. Yes, we had two meddling old men trying to influence our love lives, but I wouldn’t give in to this.
Not after everything else.
Talking of my meddling old man.
Where is he?
The waiter arrived with four plates of delicious smelling food, all artistically arranged on turquoise plates with silver piping.
Inching from the booth, I ignored Greg’s question and smiled at Steve. “Excuse me. I’d better go tell my father his dinner is on the table.”
“Yes, good idea, Elle.” Steve nodded, already picking up his knife and fork to dig in.
Greg narrowed his eyes, giving me a tight grin. “Fine. I’m not going anywhere.”
Fighting my shudder, I slithered from the booth. My heels tap-tapped over gray-veined marble as I left the busy restaurant and entered the cozy gin bar. Teak wood hung in noise absorbing panels from the black ceiling. Stools with polished chrome and padded leather lined up neatly by the long bar while clusters of comfy chairs encouraged secrets to be shared and pacts to be made in the dark.
The whiff of alcohol and cigar smoke lingered on every air-eddy. I had no idea how the Weeping Willow got around the non-smoking rule, but small plumes of silver escaped men’s lips as I made my way to the bar.
Specially positioned spotlights speared through the bottles on offer. All twenty-two hundred of them—according to the owner who bragged when he’d first opened the place. Alcohol glittered like fireflies, tempting a drinker to keep testing until they found their soul-mate in liquor.
I expected to find Dad nursing another glass of whiskey, staring broodingly into the amber liquid as he sometimes did when I acted out or he couldn’t shed the memory of Mom.
That wasn’t the case tonight.
I slammed to a stop.
He’s laughing with a complete stranger.
Dad sat on a bar stool with his feet tucked on the chrome foot-rest, a glass of whiskey (like I predicted) resting in his hands but forgotten. His face was alive, eyes unguarded and crinkled in mirth. I hadn’t seen him so animated in years.
It warmed me and worried me in equal measure.
I looked at the man he was with. The guy had his back to me, but the cut of his suit was impeccable; his body toned and slim, his hair dark and thick with lighter highlights that could’ve been graced by a hairdresser or natural.
From where I stood, a couple shielded me like a living wall, but I was close enough to hear my father say, “Well, that sounds fantastic. You really should meet her.”
Fantastic? What was fantastic?
I sucked in a breath as the stranger laughed. “It would be an honor to meet her. I’m sure she’s as wonderful as you describe.”
Are they talking about me?
The couple hiding me moved, leaving me exposed. I should walk forward and introduce myself. I should stop eavesdropping and act professionally. But something about the way my father and this stranger spoke sent my hackles bristling.
Staying behind milling people with an array of alcohol gripped in tight fingers, I slowly inched closer to the two men, straining with every step to hear.
“My daughter is very accomplished.” Dad’s tone billowed with pride. “But you sound rather successful yourself, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Problem?” The man took a sip of his drink. “I assure you, I’ve never had a problem with women before.”
Oh, the arrogance dripping from him.
Dad chuckled. “I wasn’t saying she’d be a problem. More like you shouldn’t find her power off-putting if you have success of your own.”
Oh, my God, what is he talking about?
Where had my father gone? When had he turned into this hearts-and-flowers romantic, trying to match me off to any man who passed his screwed-up interview?
He’s always been like that.
I hated that that was true.
The stranger nodded. “I can understand how a woman with a high corporate job and wealth can be terrifying to most.” He leaned forward. “However, I can assure you, that won’t be the case with me.”
He spoke as if my father had handed me over to be bedded and wedded.
My teeth ground together as Dad said, “I must admit, I haven’t heard of you before. Are you new to New York?”
The man swirled the liquid in his glass. “Yes. Arrived a few months ago. Unfortunately, my benefactor was not well, and we needed treatment that was only available here as a trial.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
My hands balled as my father gave this total stranger such sympathy. “And you’re single then? You’re planning
on staying in town?”
Holy crap, the embarrassment level just erupted into volcanic proportions.
“I am. Customarily, I don’t date. But now my benefactor is on the mend, I can indulge in playing the field.”
Indulge? Play the field? My hands curled with indignation. Who was this man?
“My daughter isn’t a conquest, Mr. Everett. If I do introduce you, you must give me your word you won’t use her.”
This had gone on long enough. I had to do something. Namely, throw my drink into Mr. Everett’s face.
“Believe me. I have no doubt one look at your daughter, and I’ll be quite happy to be monogamous until she gets to know me.” The man raised his glass again, giving me a side profile glimpse of elegant cheekbones and handsome jaw.
I stiffened. He spoke as if I was a sure thing. That he could make me fall for him just by being alive.
I wanted to kill him.
But then I wanted to kill my father more as he smiled. “I’m sure you’ll like Elle. She’s beautiful and insanely intelligent.”
Mr. Everett chuckled. “I’m fairly sure I can make your daughter like me in return. I have a knack, you see.”
“A knack?” My father’s face tightened, noting the cocky confidence of this man he was trying to marry his daughter to. “What sort of knack?”
“A knack for women who can’t stand the opposite sex. A way of convincing them to give up control and relax for once.”
Holy shit.
I rarely swore but holy shit, shit, shit.
This guy...there were no words for his arrogance.
Dad glanced at his untouched whiskey. “I admit Elle doesn’t seem to like the prospects I put in front of her.” His face fell. “I only want her to be happy. To have someone to shoulder the burden of her company with. To laugh occasionally with.” His voice softened with sadness. “She hasn’t laughed in so long. I’m worried about her.”
If I weren’t so angry, I would’ve suffocated under a fresh wave of guilt. I moved forward a step, breaking my cover, swirling with mixed emotions.
However, Mr. Everett ensured I’d never feel guilt again as he said, “Introduce me to your daughter, Mr. Charlston, and I promise you I’ll make her—”
“Make me do what?” I stomped in my heels, crossing my arms. My heart whirled wild while my breathing threatened to show how annoyed and hurt I was.
I glowered at both men.
My father shrunk, knowing he’d screwed up. But the stranger merely pinned me with piercing eyes and sent a chill down my spine.
He looked arctic and unreadable.
He smelled expensive and impenetrable.
He sounded powerful and untouchable.
My worst nightmare wrapped in perfection.
Tearing my gaze away, I hugged my anger and spat, “You sit here planning my future like you have control over me. What? You think you can make me fall in love with you? Get on my knees for you? Do whatever you tell me to, oh master?” I snorted. “The flat-out disgusting nerve of you!”
Mr. Everett rubbed his bottom lip where a droplet of liquor glistened. “If you give me time, I’ll prove to you I can make you do all those things...and more.”
I spluttered in outright shock. “Excuse me?”
My father stood up, putting himself between me and damn Mr. Everett. “I don’t think that’s quite appropriate conversation for the first introduction, sir.”
“Seriously?” I eyed my father as if he was a stranger, too. “When is that sort of talk ever appropriate? When he’s got me cuffed to a damn bed and making me cook him dinner? God, Dad.” I threw up my hands, my skin flushing with indignation beneath my black dress. “Wow. Just wow. Both of you.”
Backing away, I held up my finger when Dad tried to reason with me. “Nope, not going to hear it.” I spun on my heel then looked over my shoulder, doing my best to ignore Mr. Everett and the way his gaze slipped over me, lingering on my breasts before latching onto my mouth. “Oh, and, Dad, once you’ve finished trying to be the world’s worst matchmaker, your dinner is on the table.”
I stormed off, unable to make the blazing exit I wanted as a crowd of people interrupted my flow, teetering slowly with their arms full of drinks, chatting about things I couldn’t care less about.
I wanted out of there.
Something warm and firm tapped me on the shoulder, somehow finding bare flesh beneath the scarf wrapped around me. “Before you leave...”
My heart relocated into my mouth as I whirled around, coming face to face with Mr. Everett.
Up close he was even more stunning.
Damn him.
Curse him.
His dark eyes were calculating and intelligent, his lips perfectly formed with the barest hint of five o’clock shadow over his jaw and down his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed while the columns of muscle flowing from his neck to his chest, just visible beneath an open-necked silk gray shirt, upset me in ways I didn’t understand.
He was pure, one-hundred percent male, and he watched me as if I was a woman who’d already sacrificed herself on his ego temple, and he was about to dine on her soul.
I crossed my arms to hold my insides together, trying to prevent the leaping gazelle my heart had morphed into from splattering at his feet. “What? What do you want?”
His eyes darkened to molasses. “I want—”
Dad sidled over, caution and worry etching his wrinkled kind face. “Now, Elle. Let me introduce you two properly.”
“I think Mr. Everett has done all the introducing I need to hear.” I tilted my head. “Isn’t that right?”
Mr. Everett smiled ever so slightly, looking more sinner than gentleman. “I’ve only just started, Ms. Charlston.”
Dad raised his arm, waving it a little in surrender as my heels ground into the marble, preparing to go to war. “Now, now.” Coming to my side, he patted my forearm. “I apologize for talking about you. But you’ve got the wrong idea. This is—”
“Mr. Everett. I know.” I glowered. “I just learned, thanks to you, how he thinks he can turn me into a simpering idiot all because he’s deemed me interesting enough to meet.” I leaned toward Mr. Everett, not caring I gave him a shot down my cleavage or the way he sniffed at my orchid perfume. “For your information, asshole, I don’t like men because of this exact reason. You’re either a mamma’s boy or think you rule the world.” I pointed a finger in his face. “You’ll never rule me, so you might as well stop whatever little game you’re playing with my father and fuck off.”
“Elle!” My father gasped. “What the hell, Bell Button?”
And he used Bell Button.
Of course, he did.
My life was officially over. Not only had he tried to set me up with this sexual deviant in the middle of a cigar-clouded gin bar, but now, he gave away childhood nicknames as if they meant nothing.
“Nice, Dad. Real nice,” I muttered under my breath.
Mr. Everett noticed, a smug smirk twisting his lips. One look into his eyes and I knew he’d stored away my embarrassing title for ammunition in the future.
But there will be no future.
Because in ten seconds, I wanted to be gone and never see him again.
“I’m suddenly not hungry.” I narrowed my eyes at my father. “Please give my apologies to Steve and Greg.”
“Steve and Greg?” Mr. Everett repeated.
I sneered. “Two more men I refuse to have anything to do with so don’t think yourself special.”
Dad clutched my elbow. “Now, Elle, don’t be hasty. You know how much you love the food here.”
“Loved. Past tense.” I gave a brittle smile. “This place doesn’t hold the allure it once did, thanks to recent events.” I looked Mr. Everett up and down icily, hoping he’d get frostbite.
Mr. Everett chuckled under his breath. “Are you always this dramatic or is it a product of being given everything you’ve ever wanted since you were born?”
The bar vanishe
d.
The world quietened.
My heart stopped.
“What did you just say?” I leaned forward, swaying so close I had to take a step toward him, so I didn’t tumble against his chest.
My father knew how inconsiderate that sentence had been. He moved from ceasefire to full-on battle negotiations. “Elle, before you start.” He gulped. “I’m sure Mr. Everett didn’t mean it like that.”
“Oh, I did.” Mr. Everett crossed his arms, somehow holding his glass of clear liquor upright, showing just how close we stood to each other when the sleeve of his shirt brushed the silk of my black dress.
Any higher and he would’ve touched my breasts.
Cocky bastard.
“I meant it exactly the way it sounded.”
Red painted my vision. The endlessly long days. The pressure. The lost childhood and servitude. I couldn’t let him get away with such a remark. I couldn’t stand there and let him smirk as if I was a tantrumming adolescent who’d never worked and believed money came from fairy farts.
I inhaled hard to deliver my perfectly poised rebuttal.
Mr. Everett stood patiently, dripping with arrogance. “Well?”
I opened my mouth.
And then...I shut it again.
He’s not worth it.
No man is.
They’re all the same—believing I’m some bauble in my father’s empire.
Some jewel they could commandeer for themselves and take over the company just like they’d take over me.
No.
Never going to happen.
I would forever be a virgin-bound husk before I ever wasted more breath and temper on a man who would always remain below me.
I moved my arm as Dad tried to squeeze my elbow, asking for discretion and quietness. He knew me. He knew I was borderline Hurricane Noelle. He’d seen me blow up only twice and both were at cocky men who believed their top salaries entitled them to cheat on their wives and not give a shit about their work.
One had cried as he left Belle Elle headquarters. The other had retired with a tarnished reputation.
Dad glanced nervously around the bar, waiting for Armageddon. Instead of giving him a second heart attack, I twisted my elbow, grabbed his wrist, and jerked him sideways. “Come along, Dad. I think this man has poisoned your mind enough.”
Crown of Lies Page 11