He wanted Lila. He wanted her in his arms, in his life. Every day that he spent without her was empty, devoid of joy. And every night was the knife's edge of loneliness. He realized now that he hadn't felt so alive in years as during the times he'd spent with her, even though they mostly talked about food and swapped stories about their lives. Something about her did it for him in a gigantic way, a way he'd never felt before.
But none of that mattered.
It had been a little before midnight when he'd broken down and called Alana. She hadn't answered. Not surprised, he'd sent her a text. Where are you? I'm lonely.
It was an emotional message for him, one he hadn't been fond of sending. Emotion didn't really enter his relationship with Alana. His attention, yes. His wallet, certainly. But she'd never asked him about his heart.
And if she had, what would he have told her? Love wasn't really in the equation. An attractive image, branding, mutual benefits and mutual enemies, these were more often the deciding factors.
Alex hadn't thought about love. As a boy he'd dreamed of success, of getting out of his tiny backwoods town and into the big city. Away from his drunk father, from the memory of his mother who'd grown weary with the weight of the world and given up early. Perhaps his parents' relationship had subconsciously turned him against relationships of his own.
He knew his mother had loved his father, but it was a love stretched so thin, it began to resemble plain tolerance. His father, on the other hand, had never loved anyone but himself. Not the greatest role model for what a man should be.
His phone buzzed against the wood of the nightstand and he bent over to retrieve it, noting the time. 3:36 a.m.
Sorry, didn't hear my phone. G'nite.
Not exactly the response he'd been hoping for. He'd told himself earlier that Alana was the one he should be calling, the one who should be warming his bed right now. But she wasn't the one he wanted. And maybe that made him just as big a bastard as his father.
* * *
Lila cursed at the doorbell. She was in the middle of searing a piece of tuna for a test dish and knew that if she set it aside now, it would be ruined. The doorbell buzzed again, and she cursed louder, then pulled the pan away from the heat. This better be good.
Lila marched to the front door and pulled it open. Then she froze at the woman in front of her.
Alana Morgan stood on her front porch, all six feet of her, and she looked Lila up and down.
"Miss Morgan, come in," Lila said, moving aside to let her enter. The model's stiletto heels clicked against the hardwood as Lila led her down the hallway. "The kitchen is this way."
She reached the kitchen and turned around, trying on a smile. "Did you want to talk about the wedding catering?"
"No," Alana said, fixing her with a narrow glare. "I want to talk about you fucking my fiancée."
"I'm sorry?" Lila was speechless.
"You should be sorry, you fat slut."
Lila recoiled as if slapped. "I'm not sure what you're talking about." She couldn't know, could she? How could Alana have found out about their...tryst?
"Oh really?" Alana asked, shaking her smart phone in Lila's face. "Are you going to say this isn't you?"
Alana hit a button on the phone and a video played. It was grainy, but it only took a moment for Lila to recognize her kitchen. And herself, splayed on the table while Alex fucked her.
"Oh God," she moaned, slapping a hand across her mouth.
"That's right, start praying."
Lila hung her head. "I'm so sorry, Alana. I never wanted this to happen."
"Can the crap. I know Alex's money makes him vulnerable to certain," she looked Lila up and down, "unsavory sorts. Although I can't say what he sees in you. I mean, he could do so much better."
Lila could only shake her head, her eyes wide.
Alana's mouth tightened. "You will never see him again, or I'll release this video to the press. The media will be all over you, and your business, if that's what you call this dump, will be over before it's begun."
Lila frowned. "Please, I promise. Just delete the video."
"I won't release it, but you've got to stay the fuck away from Alexander Drake. And don't bother him with this. I won't have him getting upset, not so close to the wedding."
Lila nodded, and Alana turned, stomping back toward the front door. Lila followed, dry washing her hands.
"Oh, and Ms. Johnstone," the supermodel said, flinging her blond hair back over her shoulder as she pinned Lila beneath her gaze. "You're fired."
Chapter Thirteen
The Northwest Business Alliance's annual networking event was definitely big time. Held in one of the historic downtown hotels, it was a far cry from freeze-dried coffee and dry and dangerous cookies. The comparison reminded her that she needed to return an email. Dave Cooper had invited her to visit his burrito cart, not far from the building she was currently in.
From lavish hotel ballroom to taco stand.
For a second her inner voice laughed at her. Yeah, taco stand is more your speed, isn't it? Because you certainly don't fit in here.
There were dozens of round tables, each seating ten and marked with a festive and edible autumn centerpieces and little cards on dark green plates assigning the seats.
Lila found her place but couldn't bring herself to try any of the assorted fruits and candies, as delicate and delectable as they looked. She straightened her jacket, subtly adjusting her bra straps. Glad that she'd forced herself to do some shopping for the event, she thought she almost fit in with her color block sea green and black dress with a black bolero jacket and patent-leather belt. The contours of the dress seemed to accentuate her curves instead of arguing with them, and for once she almost felt comfortable in her own skin.
Almost. If anything, she was comfortably numb, unable to feel much of anything. In a state of shock. Or maybe it was because there were so many feelings fighting for dominance that her brain just couldn't process them.
Guilt at succumbing to her baser desires instead of focusing on her dream.
Shame at screwing around with a married man.
Embarrassment at how much she'd liked it. At how much she wanted to do it again.
Fear at the thought of Alana Morgan holding a very choice piece of blackmail material over her head.
That last one that was the one that was pushing her into shutdown. Not only had she fucked Alana's fiancée, but she'd done it on video. And Drake's woman had possession of it. Even though the quality of the video was shitty and showed very little of her body, she was still terrified of the world seeing her in that vulnerable position, giving herself fully to another woman's man.
The world around her came back into focus when the other woman at her table, an older female with razor sharp cheekbones and a bright blond up-do, laughed shrilly and put her hand on the arm of the man next to her.
Get it together, Johnstone. You're in public, for Christ’s sakes. And this could be a huge opportunity for you. Stop dwelling and start networking!
Pasting what she hoped passed for a genuine smile on her face, Lila began introducing herself to the other occupants of her table. They were nice, polite, and majorly out of her league. There was an investment banker, two CEOs, three CFOs, a public relations manager, a hotelier, and an owner of a chain of upscale boutiques. They all smiled and nodded when she mentioned Gourmet on the Go, but Lila knew they were being polite.
Thankfully the presentation began shortly and she was exempted from having to make further small talk. Lila tried to listen, but most of the speakers' focused on buzzwords she had only a passing acquaintance with. Equity. Liquid Capital. Cash Neutral and Resource Cultivation. Her mind wandered and her eyes followed as Lila scanned the crowd aimlessly.
Then she locked on a target. A heavy gray gaze was bearing down on her from across the room. Oh shit!
Everything clicked into place. Luck of the draw my ass. Alex Drake had gotten her invited here. But why?
Lila
chewed her lip, the wheels of her mind turning at light speed until her biggest unanswered question gummed up the works. Does he know about the video?
Alana hadn't said if he did or he didn't. She'd told Lila not to bother him so close to the wedding. But that didn't mean he wasn't aware of it. Alana didn't seem the type to keep things quiet.
If he knew, then why would he set this up? A shiver went down her spine and she pulled the lapels of her jacket tight, trying to warm up. A set-up. Just like high school.
The confines of the tasteful venue faded into the background as Lila was launched back into her past...
It was a week after she'd lost her virginity to Damien, a week in which he hadn't come back to her house. She hadn't even tried to make eye contact with him in the hall, her embarrassment still too fresh. So she'd been floored when she'd opened her locker to find a construction paper heart shoved in front of her books.
"Roses are red
Violets are blue
Will you go to Homecoming with me?
And give me a kiss too?"
The heart was signed "Damien George."
Lila had stared at the heart until fifth period. Then she'd pulled out her metallic baby blue pen and scribbled, "Yes," on the card, sneaking to stuff it into the grate of his locker during sixth period when the halls were empty.
For days she'd struggled with her anxiety. Why would Damien ask her to Homecoming? They'd hardly spoken, in words, anyway. Still, the excitement that she'd be going to the dance with the hottest boy at school had overridden her common sense. Who knew why things like this happened? But happen they could, if the stack of romance novels beside her bed had anything to say about it.
She'd kept her exhilaration close to her vest. Her mother had been feeling poorly lately, and was often too tired to stay up long after her shift at the bakery. Although this was an experience she wanted to share with her mother, she didn't want to burden her with her own anxiety. Besides, her mother read the same novels. She'd tell Lila that the Lord worked in mysterious ways and encourage her to think with her heart, not her head.
Even though she was barely 18, Lila already knew that wasn't the best advice. She sometimes wondered how her mother could remain so optimistic after her own failed marriage. Still, there was enough worry lingering about Damien's motives that she kept quiet about the whole thing.
That made finding a dress more difficult. Lila had very little savings and she lamented her decision to buy those two cookbooks last month. They were hardcover! She managed to scrape up about $15 and headed to the local thrift store.
Thrift shops were not always friendly to women of her size. Hell, most clothing stores were downright unfriendly to plus-sized ladies. Her choices were extremely limited. She went with the only dress not possessing puffy sleeves that screamed 80s. It was a black dress with a low waist and a large scalloped white collar that featured a big white bow in the center.
She wouldn't be the most fashionably dressed girl, that was for sure, but she didn't think she'd embarrass herself in this. Plus, it was only $7. That left her enough to score some huge clip-on pearl earrings. She spared a thought to the old lady who must have died and left the relics behind, thanking her for having the only possible accessory for her bulky black and white dress.
Lila had paced nervously on the night of the dance, waiting for Damien to show up. She was glad her mother had gone to bed early and hadn't noticed her pale features. As the minutes ticked past, she was increasingly sure that it had all been a prank, and that Damien wasn't going to show up.
At half past eight a pair of lights careened up the street. A long black car pulled up in front of her house. A limo!
And out of the limo stepped Damien George, resplendent in a white tuxedo.
Lila rushed out the door and skipped down the steps. "You're here."
"Yup," he said, not meeting her eyes when motioning her to get into the car.
Lila slid across the leather seats. "I can't believe you rented a limo for us."
"Uh huh." Damien didn't seem to be much of a talker, no matter the occasion.
"Where are we going?" She noticed the limo wasn't heading in the direction of the school.
"To pick up some friends."
Lila frowned. She'd hoped for a night of magic, spent alone in Damien's arms. It isn't so bad, she told herself. They probably rented the limo all together, all pitched in. I can handle a few friends.
Their first stop they picked up three boys, members of the football team, who clambered in and began passing around a flask. Damien drank deeply and passed it to her. Lila refused, her anxiety growing. But when they got to the second stop, her nervousness gave way to near panic.
Four girls piled into the limo. She recognized them. Cheerleaders. And one all-too-familiar face.
Becca Smyth gave her a wide grin. "Lila, so glad you could make it." She positioned an oversized backpack on the floor before her, then began giggling and talking behind her hands to her friends.
Lila was beyond worried. Why was Becca here? Now there were five girls and four boys. And the odds looked stacked against her.
Becca whispered something in her friend's ear, pointing in Lila's direction. The girls across from her began laughing hysterically. Lila grit her teeth.
"It's time!" Becca crowed in glee, then counted down. "3...2...1!"
The confines of the limo began to reverberate with their song. "Roses are Red! Violets are Blue! Will you go to Homecoming with me? And give me a kiss too!"
Lila flushed with embarrassment. But the worst was yet to come.
"Now!" Becca screamed, yanking open her backpack. The girls reached inside and pulled out water guns.
Lila flinched when the first spray hit her. She ducked her head, blinking her eyes under the stream of water. Then she almost screamed in horror. Their guns were soaking her in yellow liquid. No!
"How does it feel, Lila? Do you liked being peed on as much as you like peeing on guys?"
Lila sputtered in shock. Her gaze shot to Damien. He sat there, stone-faced, not saying anything, not trying to stop them. It had all been a trick.
The limo pulled up to a stop sign and Lila jumped out, running across the street and down the sidewalk. Their peals of laughter followed her, making her break out in sobs.
Lila checked the street signs around her, glad she'd bailed on the limo before it had made it the two more blocks to the school. She'd walked home in the rain. It wasn't like she could do any more to ruin her dress. A few sniffs had told her that it wasn't actual urine. Lemonade. But the damage had been done.
Damien had told everyone about her unfortunate accident. She'd trusted him with her virginity, and he'd paid her back with a heart-breaking prank.
And now, here she was a decade later, pinned under the gaze of a devilishly handsome Alex Drake, wondering if he would play her false as well.
What would be in it for him? her mind asked.
Lila shook her head. That didn't matter. There'd been nothing in it for Damien. Nothing except the satisfaction her mortification had brought him.
The applause of the crowd snapped her back into the scene around her. People were starting to rise, starting to shake hands and mingle with their associates.
Lila realized her own hands were shaking. She had to get out of here before the trap could spring. Picking up her clutch, she walked on trembling legs toward the door.
A hand on her shoulder froze her. She turned around, expecting to see a pair of gray eyes in a handsome face. But instead of Tall, Dark, and Dangerous, she found Tall, Blond, and Familiar.
"Lila Johnstone? I thought that was you."
Lila jerked backwards in alarm. Was this a nightmare brought to life? Was she hallucinating? "Damien George?"
"Right," he said, taking her hand and shaking it. "It's good to run into you."
Lila swallowed. It was? "Uh, hi."
"I can't believe I'm seeing you again."
"Me neither," she said, pulling her hand awa
y from his. "If you'll excuse me..." There was no way she was going to stand here and relive the most humiliating night of her life. Again.
"Wait." Damien grabbed her arm again, pulling her off to the side. "I...I know you're probably still upset with me. I wanted to apologize."
"Apologize?" What was she, a fucking parrot?
"Yeah, for what went down in high school. I'm sorry."
Lila stared at him. She didn't know what to say. Damien had screwed her in more ways than one ten years ago.
His blue eyes bored into hers. "I was an ass in high school. I'd gotten drunk with some of the football team and I told them about our...well, our interaction. I shouldn't have. Then one of them told his girlfriend, and she told Becca, and well..."
"I understand," she said, trying to pull out of his grip. He was still as strong as she remembered, and he didn't let go.
"Becca wouldn't let it alone, wouldn't stop hounding me about you. She embarrassed me, you know, said I was in love with you, that the only way I could prove I wasn't was if I helped her with her prank. I didn't want to."
"But you did." Anger was now burning up her cheeks, embarrassment forgotten. "You lured me into that limo and then you just sat there and let them hose me down."
Damien shook his head, his eyes full of shame. "It was wrong, I know that."
"Hell yes it was wrong. You don't know how bad that screwed me up." The words, once started, wouldn't stop. "I was so humiliated I couldn't even think about getting intimate with another man for a long time."
"I'm sorry." His face was sincere. "Lila, I don't want to hurt you. I want you to forgive me."
"I don't know if I can." She didn't.
"Please try. It's important."
"Why is it so important? Why now?"
Damien loosened his grip, his hand moving slowly down to caress her arm. "Lila, I'm a lucky son of a bitch to find you again and I refuse to waste this opportunity. I want to start over. Try again. I haven't stopped thinking about that night. I was a drunk idiot. I didn't know what I had. What you were."
Worth the Risk: (A Contemporary Bad Boy Romance) Page 64