Crown of Lies
Page 25
Penn (09:23 a.m.): What the fuck does that mean?
Elle (09:27 a.m.): It means the sex was amazing, but it doesn’t change the fact you lied to my father. You made him think he can relax knowing I’m going to be taken care of—his words, not mine. I can’t let him believe we’re truly together. He has heart issues. I enjoyed the other night but don’t expect anything more. Let’s end this now before it gets complicated.
No text came back.
My phone vibrated alive in my hand.
Penn calling...
“Oh, shit.” Huddling over my desk, I deliberated whether I should ignore the call. Problem was he knew I was around because I’d responded to his texts.
Sucking in a breath, I pressed accept. “Hello.”
“Don’t hello me, Elle.”
“Okay...”
“Don’t okay me, either. Especially in that tone.” His voice dripped with sex, pooling directly into my core.
“Well, if you’re not going to let me speak, why the hell did you call me?”
“I’ll tell you why. Because I found your last message ridiculous.”
I held my tongue, waiting for him to continue.
“It so happens I’ve spoken to your father.”
“What?”
“And he approves of us.”
“He’ll approve of anyone with a penis and a pulse.”
As long as it’s not Nameless or someone with a criminal record.
“Thanks for that stab at my self-worth,” he purred. “Nevertheless, I have a lunch date with him today. If you say you’re sorry and admit you want me to make you come again, I might let you join us.”
I couldn’t do this.
“Hold up. You might let me come on a date with my own father?” I rolled my eyes, glowering at Sage as she pranced over my desk. “I can’t hear you because your ego is so inflated.”
“I think you mean my cock. My cock is inflated thinking about fucking you again.” His voice dropped from crude to cool. “I’m meeting your father at the Tropics in three hours. Come or don’t. Your choice.”
He hung up.
I had a good mind to call him back and screech that I wasn’t some possession to be played or a toy to be tormented. But someone knocked on my door. “Elle?”
Oh no, this day just keeps getting worse.
“Yes, Greg, you can come in.”
He strode in with all the arrogant airs of a playboy dressed in a baby blue polo and pressed jeans. His dark blond hair was tussled in just the right way to hint he was always this good looking with no effort, when I happened to know—from many childhood get-togethers—that he took hours in the bathroom manscaping.
Yet another reason why I could never be with Greg. He valued his appearance more than any other thing in his life...including whatever woman he ended up with as his wife.
“Hi, Elle.” He perched on the edge of my desk, his butt nudging aside paperclips and scattering pens. “Whatcha doing today?”
Sage gave him a kitty-glower and leaped off the glass to return to her nest of blankets by my feet.
I forced myself not to roll my eyes. “The usual. Running my family’s company. You?”
“Just had the weekly brief with my old man. Logistics is boring compared to all the number-juggling you guys get to do up here.”
When Greg left school, Steve and my father had worked out a position for him to fill. A position that wouldn’t affect Belle Elle’s reputation or bottom line if he lost interest or screwed up. Being the head of the logistics department ought to be a full-time, full-on occupation, but his executive assistant was far too good at her job, and Greg took that as an opportunity to play retired.
“It’s not fun.” I smiled huge and bright. “Believe me.”
And you’re not allowed to fiddle with things you know nothing about and don’t give two craps over.
He plucked my turquoise ink fountain pen and spun it in his fingers. “Want to go to dinner with me tonight? Hanging at the Palm Politics with those girls from your school was fun.” He flashed me a grin. “I enjoyed it. And I know our fathers did. They’re so happy we got together on our own accord and not at a family dinner.”
Unable to help myself, I grabbed the pen from his fingers and placed it back on the desk. “Sorry, Greg, I’m busy. Maybe next time.”
“Next time what?” His eyes narrowed, that edge of darkness revealing itself. “Next week, you mean? Next month? When, Elle? I’m not going to wait around for you forever, you know.”
The faintest clanging of warning bells began. His smile remained, but the harsh malice he managed to hide so well glimmered.
I sat taller. My will to be cordial faded under the need to kick him in the balls and show him that he might’ve seen me in tutus and crying over bullies, but he didn’t know me now. I wouldn’t put up with his passive-aggressive behavior—certainly not in my office.
“I never asked you to wait, Greg. In fact, I distinctly remember telling you I only want to be friends.”
He scoffed, once again snatching my pen, daring me to steal it back as he clenched it hard in his fist. “See, that’s the thing with you, Elle. You send mixed messages.”
I rubbed the anger prickling my arms. “Don’t confuse your own meddling for my approval.”
He leaned forward, bringing spite and jealousy whiffing into my nose. “I don’t meddle. You want me. Everyone fucking knows that.”
I pursed my lips, hating the way my heart scampered when I wanted to remain angry.
It would be so easy to do what Penn did and lie. To say I was with him now. Engaged. But I wouldn’t do that because I didn’t need Penn to fight my battles for me. Besides, Penn had told him point blank that I was his now, yet Greg tried to claim me anyway.
I went with a roundabout lie. A dressed-up little fib. “You’re mistaken. I’m with someone.”
“Bullshit. Go out with me. One date. What’s so bad about me that you won’t even eat with me?” His annoyance shimmered like a bloodthirsty guillotine ready to fall. “Stop being such a bitch.”
The gentle clanging of bells turned into an orchestra of caution. I hated him looming over me, perched on my desk. I stood, pushing my chair back, and crossing my arms. “Call me a bitch again, and I’ll have you fired.”
He slapped his thigh. “God, you’re adorable when you act all CEO.”
I ignored that.
Reaching for the only thing—the only person—who popped into my head, I snapped, “Are you expecting me to cheat on, Penn?”
He guffawed. “Cheat? Come on, Elle. I know it’s all a scam. You’ve known the guy two minutes. I’ve known you for twenty-two years. He doesn’t stand a chance.” He leaned forward, smelling clean and soap-like compared to Penn’s mysterious deep aftershave. “You’re having a fling. Shit, I’ve had them too. You think I mind if you fuck him?”
I bared my teeth, holding my ground. “You should if you’re as in love with me as you claim.”
His smile was toxic. “Love? Who said anything about love? I said we’re meant to be together. We’re compatible. Our families own Belle Elle, and we work side by side. I’m not afraid of some bullshit asshole who thinks he can steal what’s mine by sticking his dick in you.”
Every nerve ending wanted to bolt out the door. My eyes shot to the intercom button where Fleur could bring reinforcements. Alone with him in my office was worse than alone on a street with a thief.
I can’t let him get away with this idiocy. Such treason.
Rebuttals came swift, forming fast on the typewriter of my mind, slipping into orderly fashion to school him. I’d had enough practice with bastards like him.
You don’t intimidate me, asshole.
Greg continued, loving the sound of his own threat. “You’ve had your fling, Elle. But I’m the one you’re meant to be with. I’m the one who has our fathers’ blessings, and I’m the one who deserves Belle Elle, not him or some other schmuck who thinks they can steal what’s mine—”
&n
bsp; My patience snapped.
I left prim and proper and embraced fire and ferocity.
Grabbing his baby blue polo in my fist, I yanked him off my desk. He stumbled to his feet, shock making him pliable.
“Listen to me, Greg, and listen good.” My voice was a hiss. “You will never and have never owned Belle Elle. Belle Elle is mine. You work here. You. Are. My. Employee. If you think I would ever marry someone like you—someone pompous and self-centered and nasty—then all the years together haven’t taught you a thing. I rule you, Greg, so get the fuck out of my office, get back to logistics, do your goddamn job, and if you ever try to threaten me again, I’ll call the police.” I shoved him away from me. “Am I perfectly clear?”
For a second, the world teetered. Two scenarios lived side by side.
One, me bleeding on the floor from Greg’s punch, my skirt ripped, and his hands where they should never be.
And two, him backing down and finally conceding defeat.
I was stupid not to recognize the war brewing between us. To let Steve and my father make it seem like a harmless flirtation while Greg had already kicked me from my office and plastered his name over the plaque on the door.
He’d been counting my money and power since he left diapers.
“This is the end of whatever this is, got it?” I held my head high and pointed at the door. Sage meowed loudly in support. “Leave. Now. I won’t ask again.”
Slowly, a sly smile slithered over his lips. He no longer looked preppy but provoked and already planning retaliation. “I see you’re not a little girl any longer, Elle.” He swayed forward. “I like it.”
“Get out!”
He chuckled and strode to the door, leaving me gobsmacked that he’d obeyed.
Opening it, he turned and blew me a kiss. “Just so you know, your little speech was cute, but I know you don’t mean it. You’re as much a liar as that asshole you’re fucking.” He wiggled his fingers condescendingly in goodbye. “I’ll visit you next week, Elle—give you some time to cool down.”
His eyes turned to ice. “However, the next time I come for you; next time I ask politely for you to join me on a date, you’re going to say yes, Noelle. Just watch.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“ELLE! WHAT A pleasant surprise.” My father stood from the neatly dressed table with a toucan bird arrangement and multi-colored water glasses stark against the white table-cloth. Even the cutlery had splashes of color in the form of engraved parrot feathers on the handles. The restaurant wasn’t called the Tropics for nothing.
“Hi, Dad.” I accepted his cheek-kiss, smoothing down my light gray dress with black and pink panels on the sides. The skirt was tight, just like the bodice, making self-consciousness tangle with the anxious residue of dealing with Greg.
He wouldn’t back down—I saw that now.
I’d done my best to be productive after he’d left, but my instincts wouldn’t stop ringing those damn awful alarm bells, and my mind ran in a panic trying to find a solution.
I’d told Greg I would fire him, but without cause, he could sue. Not to mention the mess it would cause between Dad and Steve.
They were best-friends. Such good friends, I honestly didn’t know whose side Dad would pick if I told him I wanted Greg dealt with and gone.
I sucked in a breath, trying to calm down. The stupid couture dress restricted my ribs from expanding. Once again, I’d been dressed in something against my will.
When I’d told Fleur to hold my afternoon meetings because I had to go monitor a lunch between my father and Penn, she shot down to the retail floor and returned with this dress, a lace scarf made from bohemian wool (whatever that was), and single stud diamond earrings.
My hair she left loose but added a few curls while the rest she straightened. It hung even longer than normal down my back.
“What are you doing here?” My father smiled, pulling out a chair and inviting me to sit. “Not that I don’t want you here, of course.”
I knew Dad would arrive fifteen minutes before Penn. He was forever punctual—to meetings or lunch dates, even the theater productions my school forced me to participate in when I was a child.
Penn would be on time, I had no doubt. But I would use these few precious minutes alone with Dad to my advantage. First, I would deal with Penn, and then I would deal with Greg.
Not wasting any time, I grabbed the yellow and green napkin and spread it over my lap. “We need to talk, Dad. Quickly before Penn shows up.”
His eyebrow rose. “How did you know he’s my lunch companion?”
“Because he told me. He mentioned I could join, so I’m not gate crashing without an invitation.”
His face melted with romance. “Ah, young love. He can’t stand to spend even a few hours away from you.”
Yes, that’s why he’s avoided me for three days.
I avoided telling him that, along with all the other secrets I suddenly seemed to have from my father.
Is that what lust and love do? Does it segment off a person’s life from shareable to private?
I’d been so open about my entire world before Penn came along. Now, I struggled for subjects that were appropriate.
Taking a sip of the water already sparkling in rainbow glasses, I blurted, “Penn and I aren’t really engaged—just like I’ve been telling you from the beginning.”
Dad froze. “What?”
“He lied to you. I have no idea what he intends to do or say today, but I wanted to tell you...none of it is true. If he starts telling you I’m pregnant or that we’re eloping to Cuba or I’m moving in with him...don't believe a word of it. Okay?”
His face turned white. He reached for his water.
Fear for his heart tried to gag me, to steal back what I’d said and tell him it was all a misunderstanding; that I was the one lying. Only, he shocked me by asking, “Could you be pregnant?” His eyes filled with wisdom he didn’t often let me see. For a man so successful in business, he embraced his kooky nature and whimsical fancy so much, he made me forget how intelligent he was—how no deal—good or bad—went through without his scrutiny. “Why would he lie about you being pregnant if there is no truth to you being together?”
My lips glued tight. I had no answer to that.
He lowered his voice, glancing at the other diners in the quaint restaurant that served healthy salads and light lunches. The ceiling had been painted with a rainforest canopy. The windows adorned with artwork of dangling spider monkeys while the occasional python dripped from a light fixture. “Be honest now, Bell Button.”
I shook my head. “I’m—no. We’re not together.”
“But you have been.”
“We’re not engaged. That’s all you need to know.”
“Not yet, anyway. I admit it was a bit quick, and I was going to address his intentions today and get to know him a little better, but you can’t deny you’re interested in him and he’s interested in you. It’s all over you, Elle.”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
What’s all over me?
The tension from dealing with Greg, or the apprehension from dealing with Penn?
I missed uncomplicated. I missed being alone without males messing things up.
Brushing aside that nasty revelation, I leaned forward. “If I ask you to do something for me...would you?”
He answered with no hesitation. “Anything. You know that.” He placed his hand over mine on my napkin. “Name it.”
“Hire a private investigator.”
“What?”
“Research Penn Everett.”
“Why?” His eyes narrowed. “Has he hurt you? Did something happen?” He looked me up and down as if he could see bruises and misdoings and was ready to shoot the guy in a wild west duel.
“No, but something doesn’t sit right. Something happened the other night. It made me think about the man I mentioned when I was arrested in Central Park.”
His body language shut down.
I only let you think that. I’m still looking. Still hoping.
“I had—I mean, I have. But I would like someone to look into Penn’s background. Where he’s from, who his parents are, what does he do? Does he have a criminal record, for goodness’ sake? Is that too much to ask?”
“It’s not too much to ask.” That sexy, silky commanding tone slipped down the back of my neck. “In fact, if you do exactly that—ask—I’ll gladly fill in those blanks without hiring someone to tell you.”
“Ah, Mr. Everett. I mean, Penn.” My father stood, extending his hand in welcome. “Pleasure to see you again.”
I remained straight-backed in my chair, not apologizing for what Penn had overheard even when I wanted nothing more than to huddle in shame.
Penn shook Dad’s hand then turned his endless dark gaze on me. “Go ahead, Elle. I invited you here so you could ask questions. That we might have a conversation rather than base our connection on purely physical.”
I blanched, glancing at Dad. Penn just admitted we had a sexual relationship.
My father crinkled his nose a little before clearing his throat and offering Penn to take the seat next to me. “Yes, conversation can be very worthwhile. I think it’s a great idea.” He glared in my direction. His stare said it all: you want to know something? Now is the time...so ask.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
MY QUESTIONS SAT heavier and heavier with every second that ticked past.
This sham of a lunch date had been going on for forty minutes in which time a waitress in a bright orange uniform had taken our orders: Dad had a Vietnamese pork salad, Penn had a Thai beef noodle, and I had a mango fish salsa.
The artfully presented meals had been delivered, and as we ate, Penn and my father shared tidbits of golfing handicaps, best courses around America, what Penn planned to do with his benefactor now he was feeling better, and every other boring nonsense non-important topic they could cover.