Pretty Dirty Trick

by Tabatha Kiss

  I raise a brow. “Like what?”

  “Do you think it looks best here or do you want it in your office?”

  “Want what?”

  She gestures upward with her eyes and I spot the framed photo hanging on the wall. I sigh at the blown-up photo of me and Trix at the auction from the Sun-Times article.

  Lips locked. Hands on bodies.

  “It was for charity,” I claim.

  She nods. “Sure.”

  “It meant nothing.”

  “Ouch.” She winces. “Does she feel the same way?”

  “I’m sure she does.”

  “I don’t know. I think you left quite the impression on her.”

  I pause. “Why do you think that?”

  “Because she’s waiting for you in your office.”

  My head snaps toward my closed door. “She is?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Beatrix Argento is waiting for me in my office right now?” I ask.

  Clara grins. “I put out a bottle of water for her.”

  I stare at the door. The window blinds are closed but I can still make a brief shadow pacing back and forth behind them.

  “I’ll hold your calls,” Clara says.

  I nod, holding my breath. “Thanks.”

  She winks at me. “You’re welcome, sir.”

  After a few quick, but very wobbly, steps, I open my office door. Trix twists around as I step inside, her tight figure outlined against the opposite windows. Storm clouds hang in the sky, looking menacing above her. The edges of her hair are wet from rain but the rest of her is dry.

  I close the door behind me. “Good morning, Trix.”

  She manages a smile. “Good morning, Lance.”

  I drop my briefcase on the desk and slide my hands into my pockets. If I don’t, I might do something stupid with them — like take her in my arms and kiss her.

  I ease forward. “What brings you out here?”

  She looks at me, her lips pressing together. “I...” She exhales softly. “I’m not sure how to do this...”

  “Is this about the other night?”

  “No,” she answers. “No, what happened the other night was simple biology. What I’m here for now is a professional matter.”

  I study her downturn face, running my gaze along the hidden smile lines of her cheeks. “Is everything okay?” I ask.

  Trix closes her eyes and takes a breath before speaking. “Do you have access to my father?” she asks.

  “Access?”

  “Can you get me in to see him?” She looks at me with a lost expression. “Or, at the very least, deliver him a message?”

  I furrow my brow. “Jerry can arrange both of those for you,” I say. “Easily.”

  “Jerry...” She pauses with disdain. “I need somebody who is willing to look out for my best interests. Can you do it or not?”

  “Yes.”

  She nods and turns to the window again. “Good.”

  Rain taps against the glass, reflecting on her cheeks to look like tears. I pause, completely struck down by the very presence, not to mention the idea of her coming to me for help.

  I tread forward slowly. “You’re going to have to answer some questions, though.”

  I watch her reflection in the glass. The stone-cold princess lingers but there’s a vulnerability in her eyes.

  “Okay,” she says.

  I sit on the edge of my desk and cross my arms. “First of all; how are you?” I ask.

  She chuckles. “Gee, start with an easy one, will ya?”

  “That bad?”

  Trix leans her back against the window, facing me. “Could always be worse, I suppose.”

  I smile. “What happened?”

  “You saw the article, right?” she asks.

  “I did.”

  “So did Marcus.”

  “It’s just clickbait,” I say, quoting Max. “Nothing but speculation with no sources. They didn’t even contact me for a quote.”

  “Me neither. Clickbait is all it would have been... if Marcus didn’t see me walking into your house on Saturday. He’s drawn his own conclusions.”

  She looks down, hiding fear. I feel a spark of it myself. It doesn’t feel great knowing some gangster watches my damn house where my daughter sleeps.

  “Did he do something to you?” I ask.

  “Nothing a pair of big girl panties won’t fix,” she says. “Thick skin comes with the family name.” She raises her head. “Not gonna lie, though. That gets harder every day my dad is gone.”

  I shake my head. “Trix, you know I can’t—”

  “I know.” She waves a hand. “And I’m not asking you to. I just want to sit down with him face-to-face and clear up a few personal matters... and you’re the only one so far who hasn’t immediately laughed in my face about it. My family — my blood — is shutting me out and I need to know why. My father promised me a spot at his table. I’m sure you have your opinions on that and that’s fine. I’m just asking for your help before I lose the only person who ever gave a damn about me.”

  She looks at me with sadness and desperation. On paper, Angelo Argento reads like a monster. On the few occasions where I’ve sat down face-to-face with him, it felt like I was staring into the eyes of the devil himself.

  I breathe a laugh.

  Trix squints at me. “What’s so funny?”

  “Not funny, just...” I smile. “I hope my daughter always sees me the way you see your dad.”

  She nods. “I’m sure she will.”

  I clear my throat. “I can get you in,” I say.

  “Without anyone else knowing?” she asks.

  “Might take some arm-twisting but I’ve got a good relationship with the warden. Let me see what I can do.”

  Trix relaxes. “Thank you.”

  “I’m happy to help. Objecting opinion or no.” I admire those big, brown eyes. “Well, now that the awkward part is over, do you want to talk about the other night?”

  She breaks into that smile. “Not much to talk about,” she says. “I had a good time.”

  “Me, too.”

  “If things were different, I’d be tempted to try again.”

  “Yeah. If things were different.”

  She shifts on her toes. “Very different.”

  We stand still, staring at each other. I try and do what I always do whenever I find myself attracted to a client, which doesn’t happen often but the training still kicks in. I try not to admire her gorgeous, plump lips or the soft line of her collarbone. The low rise of her chest as she breathes in and out. The scent of her perfume...

  “Anyway...” She turns her face down to stare at the floor between us. “I should go. Would you let me know what you find out?”

  I nod. “Yeah. Of course.”

  Trix shifts a step forward but pauses. “Everything we just talked about is... privileged, right?”

  “Everything that happens in this room is between you and me,” I say.

  She hesitates. “I don’t know who I can trust anymore,” she whispers.

  I lay a hand on her shoulder, my arm moving on its own. “You can trust me,” I say.

  She trembles, along with her bright, red lips. Her head tilts upward again as her eyes wander my face. I ease just a little closer, my urges quickening. I don’t care what her name is or whose side she’s on. It’s simple, really.

  I want her. I want that strong woman on my couch again, the one with the quick tongue and the no-bullshit wit. The one she lets out when she thinks her family isn’t watching.

  I kiss her. Or she kisses me. Either way, it’s wrong.

  Her arms crawl around my back as I raise my hands to cup her face, drawing her in until our bodies are pressed against each other. I couldn’t pull myself away even if I wanted to. The quiet moan in the back of her throat is almost too much. Her breath, her taste. The way she lightly sucks on my bottom lip mid-kiss. My spine tingles in remembrance of her lying on her back with her legs spread for me.


  I push her back against the desk and she instantly slides onto to it. Her legs rise to hug my sides, inching her skirt up as she moves. I can’t stop myself from touching her trembling thighs and she parts her lips for an even deeper kiss.

  My phone’s speaker clicks on.

  “Lance, there’s a Mr. Donner here to see you.”

  We freeze.

  “Please tell me you know more than one of those,” Trix whispers.

  “… I do not,” I say.

  She lays her hands on my chest. “What is Marcus doing here?” she asks as she shoves me away.

  “I don’t know.” I reach for the intercom bottom. “I’ll be right out, Clara,” I say, quickly turning it off again.

  Trix rolls off the desk onto the floor with lightning speed and crawls beneath it.

  My lips twitch with a laugh as I tilt my head to look at her as she hugs her knees to her chest.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Hiding,” she says.

  “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

  She cringes. “… Yes.”

  “Well... I admire the reflexes but I have a coat closet if you’d rather...”

  I gesture to the door in the corner behind me and she winces.

  “Okay, yeah. That’d be better,” she says.

  I extend my hand to help her up. She grabs her purse off the desk, along with her raincoat tossed over the back of the chair, and I open the closet door. She steps inside and nods, signaling for me to close it.

  “Wait—” She reaches out and wipes her thumb along my bottom lip. “You’ve got lipstick.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Okay. You’re good.”

  She throws a thumbs-up and I close her in.

  What the hell is Marcus doing here?

  I scan the room one more time for anything incriminating before opening the office door. I look out to find Marcus lingering in front of Clara’s desk. Rainwater drips from his hair, falling down to his soaking trenchcoat. Guess he’s too cool for an umbrella.

  “Mr. Donner,” I greet. “How are you?”

  “Mr. Tyler,” he says, ignoring the question.

  “Come on in.” I step back and gesture inside.

  He walks past me and I sneak a look at Clara’s bright, pink cheeks. Her brow wiggles with confusion but she stays quiet.

  I leave the door open and follow Marcus inside to sit at my desk.

  “What brings you here, Mr. Donner?” I ask.

  He stands for another moment before lowering into the chair. “I’ve come here today on Mr. Argento’s behalf,” he begins. “He would, once again, like to extend his offer of—”

  “Pass,” I say.

  “I strongly encourage you to reconsider, Mr. Tyler.”

  “Okay.” I pause for a moment. “I’ve reconsidered. The answer’s still no. Your boss isn’t going to bribe his way out of federal prison. I don’t need his money.”

  “You’ve done very well for yourself, yes. But even your wallet can’t offer the kind of security Mr. Argento can.”

  “Oh…” I nod. “This isn’t a bribe anymore. It’s a threat.”

  “I’m not threatening you, Mr. Tyler,” he says. “I just want you to be aware of what you stand to lose by going forward with this.”

  “Right. In a threatening manner.”

  His jaw flexes. “I don’t like you.”

  I smile. “Is that supposed to shock me?”

  “But, until this weekend, I respected you.” He shakes his head. “You want to tell me what Trix was doing at your house on Saturday?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “I’d think long and hard about that answer if I were you,” he says.

  “It’s not going to be any more your business the longer I think about it,” I say.

  “I beg to differ.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “Trix is off-limits,” he says, his voice hardening.

  “Trix is an adult and can make her own decisions.”

  “I don’t like to repeat myself, Mr. Tyler.”

  “Really? Because you’re awfully good at it.” I swivel my chair. “If that’s all you came here to discuss then we’ll just end up going in circles and I’ve already done my limit of dancing this week.”

  Marcus stares at me for a moment before finally standing up. “For her sake,” he says, “stay away from her.”

  “Threatening your own clients now?” I ask.

  “Not me. But if her father finds out about you two…” He takes a step back. “Well, you can imagine the rest.”

  “Have a good day, Mr. Donner,” I say, bowing my head.

  He walks out into the hallway. I wait for him to disappear out of sight before standing up and closing my office door.

  Trix squints at the sudden change in lighting as I swing open the closet.

  I raise a brow. “So, you slept with that guy?” I ask.

  “Eh…” She grunts. “He’s more attractive when he’s not talking.”

  “Hm.” I step back to my desk chair and sit down.

  Trix slides her coat on. “My father has been trying to bribe you?” she asks.

  “You didn’t know?”

  “No.”

  I nod. “A few times. He usually sends Jerry but I guess they think the muscle is more effective.”

  She tilts her head. “Usually, he is.” Her lips curl. “Gotta say, you’ve got a backbone of steel, Lance.”

  “I don’t like bullies,” I say.

  “Were you picked on as a kid?” she jokes.

  “Weren’t we all?”

  “I suppose so.” She sighs. “I should really get going this time.”

  I stand up. “I’ll make some calls for you.”

  She reaches for the notepad on my desk and grabs the pen beside it, too. “Call me when… well, anytime you want to, honestly.”

  I smile. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  Trix licks her lips, making mine twitch. “Bye, Lance. Thanks again.”

  I plant my feet as she walks to the door. “Bye, Trix.”

  She glances back once before opening it and walking out into the hallway.

  I follow her path and stop in the doorframe to watch her curves as they disappear around the corner.

  Clara clears her throat.

  “Don’t ask,” I say.

  She bites her flushed cheek and says nothing.

  Twenty-One

  Trix

  The rain lets up the second I step outside the building. I’m choosing to see that as a good omen because I need something after that near run-in with Marcus.

  What the hell am I thinking?

  Once again, even with all the second thoughts and the logic telling me how stupid it would be to get involved with Lance Tyler, I can’t help myself. He’s so warm and inviting, like the first smell of coffee in the morning but also mixed with some wild substance that makes me ravenous and out-of-control like a kitten on catnip. I want to roll over and arch my back and just purr whenever he’s around.

  Me-fucking-ow.

  I pause at the corner light to get my bearings. How have I already walked three blocks from Lance’s office? I should go home and try to relax while I wait to hear back from him about seeing my father — if he can even get me in there. I’ll stop at the coffee shop up here and then hail a cab home.

  My eye catches a familiar form at the end of the next street. He casually leans into the edge of the building, glancing around the corner in his leather jacket.

  I walk up behind him, trying to peek over his shoulder, but I’m just not tall enough.

  “Hey, Rob.”

  Robbie spins around so fast his hair whooshes to the other side of his forehead.

  “Hey! Trix...” he says, clearing his throat. “How ya doing?”

  “I’ve had better Mondays,” I say, dragging my tongue. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Nothing,” he says quickly.

  I bend
at the waist to glance over his shoulder, spotting a little sandwich place across the courtyard. I recognize it immediately. Just a little hole-in-the-wall place that I’m not particularly fond of, but it’s a favorite of...

  Melanie’s.

  I gasp when I see her sitting at a table alone beneath the awning with her tablet in one hand.

  “Stalker!” I point at Robbie. “You filthy stalker!”

  “I am not stalking her,” he says, easing me back a step. “Since when is observing someone from afar without their knowledge considered stalking?”

  I gawk at him.

  “Don’t answer that,” he says.

  “Well, if you aren’t stalking, then what are you doing? Just go talk to her.”

  He scoffs. “You know I can’t just walk up and talk to her.” He holds up his hand. “I’m wounded. Predators can smell that kind of thing.”

  I roll my eyes. “Okay, Robbie. Real talk.” I reach out and lay a hand on his shoulder. “You have got to stop this.”

  “Stop what?” he asks.

  “Torturing yourself like this.”

  “I’m not torturing myself.”

  “It’s been half a year, Rob. She’s moving on. You should, too.”

  He smiles. “She’s moving on, is she?”

  “Yes.”

  “No, she’s not.”

  “Yes, she is,” I argue. “She has a secret admirer.”

  He snorts. “A secret admirer? What is this, a third-grade social studies class?”

  “Some fan has been sending her flowers for months now with cute, little notes on them.”

  His smirk deepens. “Is that right?”

  “She loves it. They’ve been sexting back and forth this weekend and, sooner or later, they’re going to come forward and she’s going to walk off into the sunset with them.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I don’t want to see you get your heart broken again, that’s why.” I squeeze his shoulder. “Please, Robbie. You gotta let her go. For your own sake, man.”

  He squints as some of his amusement fades from his cheeks. “You sound awfully sure about this, Trix.”

  “That’s because I am.”

  “Well, you’re wrong.”

  My gut twists with sympathy. “Rob...”

  “Roses, right?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yeah. They send her roses.”