Pretty and Reckless

by Charity Ferrell

  “I’m not sleeping with you ever,” I corrected.

  “We’ll see, darling. Saturday, you’re mine.”

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I asked, tapping one of my new heels against the plush, grey carpet. Vincent had done a lot for me. If he hadn’t given me a job, I would’ve either still been at Weston’s place, back at my dads, or some homeless shelter in the city. I couldn’t tell him no. He was the only reason I was standing on my own two feet.

  “The Field Museum. They’re having a charity event my parents attend every year and they’re insisting I go.” He shook his head. “I hate those damn things, so I need a date to keep me company.”

  “Seems easy enough. Sure.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Oh, and they’re under the assumption we’re a couple.”

  My head jerked back and I wanted to smack the stupid grin off his face. “You told them you were dating?” I snapped.

  “I didn’t tell them anything. They assume we’re dating and I haven’t corrected them.”

  “Why would they assume we’re dating?”

  “Haven’t you been reading any of the city’s blogs?”

  “Uh no.” I hated gossip and anything that had to do with it. I stopped reading the blogs at seventeen when one did a special on me and said I’d contracted almost every sexually transmitted disease known to man.

  “We’re labeled the city’s new ‘it’ couple.” He studied me, waiting for my reaction.

  “You better rectify that.”

  “Please, it’s just one night. I don’t see what’s so wrong with dating me. I’d like to think I’m a pretty good catch. It will be like us hanging out like we have been.”

  “Will my father be there?” If he was, there was no way in hell I’d be there.

  He shrugged. “Not sure. The guest list is huge though, so I doubt you’ll even see him if he is.”

  “Fine,” I groaned. “But if I see him, I’m gone.”

  He shook his head in understanding. “I’ll tell my parents we have to go because you need some cock.”

  “Do you want me to change my mind?” I warned.

  “Got it. If we see him, we go. It will be easier for me to understand if you’d just tell me what he did.”

  I gulped. “Nope.”

  Weston was the only man I’d ever let know everything. Which sucked, because if I ever did get into another relationship, I’d never be able to give them all of me like I had him. You can only give everything you have to one person because after you released the pieces once, it hollows you out to where you can never be reconstructed.

  He pulled himself up from his chair and walked over to the closet. He snatched out a wrapped box with a bright red bow on top and handed it to me. “Elise Parks, one of these days I will figure you out, and you’ll see I’m not such a bad guy. Sooner or later, you’re going to let me in.”

  I looked down and instantly recognized the Sak’s box. Vincent had bought me a few gifts to update my wardrobe since I didn’t have much.

  “Good luck, this thing is super glued tighter than a nun’s legs,” I replied.

  He sighed and shook his head. “I’m good at ungluing. Saturday night. I’ll be at your place at eight.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY- FOUR

  ELISE

  I puckered up my ruby red lips and smacked them together. “Oh MAC, how I’ve missed thee,” I cooed into the mirror. I parted my lips, swiped some more color on, and smacked them together again.

  I reached up and smoothed down my curls. My eyelids were painted a light gold with winged eyeliner coming off each side.

  I settled my eyes on my reflection. I was headed down the road of happiness. I didn’t fully love myself yet, but I was getting there. I was no longer the reigning princess of the Parks Empire. The girl portrayed as the over-sexed bitch was gone. I was now a girl discovering herself without another dictating how she was doing it. I was finally free.

  “Be good. Be safe, and only spread your legs if he’s wearing a Rolex around his wrist,” my friend Carrie advised, collapsing onto my bed with a globe of wine in her hand.

  “Careful, I just bought those sheets,” I scolded.

  She rolled her eyes and held her drink up in the air. “Happy now?” I nodded. “And don’t forget to take my advice.”

  “Seriously? Advice? What kind of advice is that?” I asked, dousing my strands with hair spray.

  “One from a hooker,” she replied, with no shame.

  Carrie was twenty-six, and lived across the hall from me. The first night I moved in, she showed up at my doorstep with a bottle of wine in her hand. She took one look at my bare apartment, grabbed my arm and had me watching TV at her place.

  She was gorgeous. Her ruby-red hair was pulled back around her crown with loose waves flowing to the sides, framing her flawless face. Her married boyfriend paid for her place so he could make his four-times-a-week visit to her and get laid.

  She was like me. She didn’t believe in love and that might’ve been why we clicked so easily. She claimed it was a bullshit fairy tale parents told their daughters so they’d wait for a prince charming and not give it up to the first boy who smiled their way. She’d slept with so many men who’d made vows to women, promising to cherish them in their marriage, and then sneak over to fuck her brains out.

  I groaned. “You’re not a hooker,” I threw back, resulting in an arched brow from her. “Okay, you’re not a straight out of the box hooker,” I corrected, and she busted out in laugher. “You only bang one guy at a time. Don’t hookers bang multiple people all the time for fast cash? They make their rounds from hotel rooms to hotel rooms?”

  I’d technically been a hooker myself. I put out for business deals. Carrie put out for a place to live and Chanel bags. Everyone puts out for something, they just might not know it yet.

  She grinned, her bright pink lips forming a giant smile, and she pointed my way with an apple colored nail. “Au contraire, I’m a high-end hooker. Does that make it sound better? Does that give me a little bit of morality?”

  “You’re a home-wrecker. A side-chick. He takes care of you like any guy would take care of a girlfriend or wife. It’s not like he pays you by the hour, has you blow him off, and then leaves you at some cheap motel with a bad case of the clap.”

  I didn’t exactly agree with Carrie sleeping with married men. I personally would never be the other woman, but to each their own. She had her own problems to work through and I wasn’t one to judge. She’d been a good friend to me.

  “You’re right,” she said, her voice perking up, and she took a drink. “So next time I have an angry wife coming over to smash my face in with a golf club, I’m going to send them your way so you can reason with them.”

  “What? Has that actually happened?” I asked.

  “More times than you’d think.”

  I rose up from my vanity chair and grabbed the box Vincent had given me from my closet. I should’ve opened it earlier to make sure whatever was in there fit, but I wasn’t sure if I was going to bail on him or not. Then Carrie had come over insisting I needed to go out and I caved.

  She jumped up from my bed, and I set the box down on my sheets to open it. “Girl this dress is hot,” she said, when I carefully spread the dress out onto my bed.

  We both stood to the side, admiring it. The black, floor length dress was stunning. Delicate beading spread down the chest, and the side. The back was completely bare, the fabric meeting back together and scrunching up at the base of my spine.

  “Damn, the boy has taste,” she said, reaching for the tag. “And Gucci. I like him for you. You should have his babies.” She laughed when I smacked her shoulder.

  She was right, Vincent was being the perfect gentleman with me. But he wanted something I couldn’t give him. Not to mention, I still wasn’t completely trusting. I didn’t know if he saw me as a game and would drop me after I gave it up to him. He was a playboy, and playboys don’t get their reputations f
or having long-term relationships.

  I untied my robe and Carrie helped me slip into the dress. “By the way, what’s going on with him?” She asked, zipping me up on my side.

  I shrugged, clasping a bracelet around my wrist. “Nothing.”

  “Girl, he’s hot as hell. I don’t understand why you won’t give him a chance. You have to move on sooner or later. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. I know you loved Weston, but you can’t just give up on every guy. A girls got to get laid sooner or later.”

  I’d drunkenly confessed about how Weston had broken my heart to her one night. I hadn’t told her everything, but she knew enough to not encourage me to get back with him.

  “And I have a feeling he’s really going to be wanting to get under you tonight,” she said, turning me around to look in the floor length mirror. My hand flew to my mouth. I looked beautiful. The dress didn’t look slutty, or immature, I looked sexy but classy. “Every man in that place is going to be salivating over you.”

  I laughed. “Yeah right, not the ones who know my rep.”

  She took a swig of wine. “Guys don’t give a shit about girl’s rep. They only care about their bra size and how many dates it takes to get inside of their panties. And girls only care about other woman’s reps because they’re intimidated by them.”

  My vanity vibrated as my phone began to ring. Carrie picked it up before I had the chance to. “It’s Vincent, he’s on his way up,” she told me, reading the text and grinning. “Go have fun, girl.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY- FIVE

  ELISE

  “The dress looks even better than I imagined,” Vincent said in approval, letting out a loud whistle when I opened up my front door. “You look stunning, absolutely stunning.” He kissed me on the cheek and led me down stairs to the black limousine waiting outside.

  He looked just as good. He was wearing another tailored black suit and a black bow tie around his neck. Girls were going to be fighting me off to go home with my date.

  “Thanks,” I said, feeling shy as I ran my hand over my dress. “I love it.”

  “Rodney, stay. I got it,” he said, stopping his driver from getting out of the car and opening the door for us. Rodney, a tall, older man, nodded his head and got back in the car.

  Vincent opened up the door for me, allowing me to slide in, and scooted in behind me.

  “Thank you for the dress really, I know it’s expensive,” I said, settling in my seat.

  His face went soft. “You deserve it, babe.”

  I jerked when he scooted closer, the warmth of his hand spreading over mine. “God, this is going to make me sound like such a pussy,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. I looked over at him in confusion. “I know you’ve been going through some shit, you won’t tell me what, but I hope eventually you will. But I like you. I mean, I really like you.”

  I let out a fake laugh, trying to make light of the situation. Vincent had been a good friend to me, he’d been such a good guy, and I didn’t want to hurt him. I knew what it felt like to have someone hurt you.

  “Do you say that you every girl you get in the back of your limo?” I asked, jokingly.

  He chuckled. “Eh … I don’t usually do much talking in here.”

  I had to give him credit for being honest. I wrinkled my nose and glanced around the large ten-seater. “Gross. Should I be sitting somewhere else, like up there with the driver, so I don’t get any of yours, or any else’s bodily fluids on me?”

  He threw his head back. “You don’t have to worry about that. I get it professionally cleaned after each use.” He scratched his head. “I’ll give you time, babe. I know you need it, but know I’m here for you if you need anything. If you want to talk, if you need a friend, anything.”

  I sighed. “Vincent, are you saying all of these things to get your hands in my panties?”

  “You want me to be honest?”

  “Of course, I want you to be honest.”

  “I’d say fifty-fifty. I care about you, but I’d love to get into those panties, too. I can only imagine how good you’d feel, how good I’d feel, to be inside of you.” He looked down at our hands, and I could feel mine slowly start to sweat. “And someone likes dirty talk,” he said, grinning wide, and squeezing my hand. “I’ll keep that in mind for when the day comes.”

  I shoved his side playfully, and groaned. “God, you are just so …”

  “Sexy?”

  “No.”

  “Irresistible.”

  “No.”

  Heat crept up my cheeks when he grabbed my face and gently massaged my cheeks. He looked down at my red lips, mesmerized, before moving forward and brushing his lips against mine.

  “I know you feel something for me, and I’ll wait until you realize it yourself,” he whispered against them, kissing me again and then pulling away. I ran my fingers over my lips in shock. Why hadn’t I stopped him? Why hadn’t I slapped him? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore, but in that moment, maybe hanging out with Vincent wouldn’t be so bad.

  “You think on that,” he continued, opening up the door when we’d made it the museum. “Stay by my side, and if you want to leave, I got you, babe,” Vincent whispered, grabbing my hand and walking me up the steps to the museum.

  My stomach frazzled when we walked in and I scanned the area. My heart thudded against my chest as Vincent guided me through the packed crowd.

  “Would you like something to eat or drink?” Vincent asked, keeping his hand in mine and looking over at me.

  “Sure, I just need to use the restroom real quick,” I replied, still looking around the room for him. I wanted to do a survey of the premises before I got comfortable, making sure no one was there that I didn’t want to see.

  “You want me to come with you?”

  He frowned when I shook my head. “I’ll be fine.”

  I crept shyly along the outside of the crowd to the bathroom and slammed the stall door shut. I needed a few minutes to myself before having a conversation with anyone. I was sure Vincent wanted to introduce me to his parents.

  I angled my gaze and noticed all eyes on me when I walked out. Girls smearing lip-gloss onto their lips and fixing their hair were standing in front of the mirror and looking at me through the reflection in the glass with looks of disgust.

  They knew who I was.

  And they didn’t like me being there.

  My forehead puckered and I moved to the other side of the vanity to wash my hands. I was just going to ignore them. Bitchy, venomous girls were the last thing I wanted to deal with right now.

  “I can’t believe he came here with you,” one blonde spat angrily.

  “Yeah, I know,” another agreed. “Vincent can do so much better, but he’s probably just using her, you know like every other guy does.”

  “Well, believe it,” I said, giving them a sarcastic smile. I didn’t have the time for their jealous bullshit. I had bigger problems on my plate. “And he obviously wasn’t very satisfied with you, considering you’re in here whining about it in the bathroom and I’m the one by his side.”

  I turned around and left the bathroom, ignoring their nasty insults at my back, and snatched a flute of champagne from a server on my way back to Vincent.

  But I didn’t make it that far. I stopped dead in my tracks. Panic rose through me and I almost dropped my drink.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY- SIX

  WREN

  Every muscle in her exposed back tensed at the sound of my voice. The rippling muscles moved in and out to match her heavy breathing. I held in a breath while waiting for her to turn around and look at me. We were so close, so close that I could stretch my arm out and run my fingers along her skin. But I was too terrified of what her reaction would be. I wasn’t allowed to touch her whenever I wanted now. She wasn’t mine anymore.

  She acted like she hadn’t heard me, like I wasn’t there, like I was i
nvisible. She wanted me to take the clue, back away and leave her alone.

  Well, that wasn’t fucking happening.

  I drank in the smooth contours of her body in the form-fitting dress that hugged tight to every one of her beautiful curves. I’d had that before. She’d been mine, and fuck, I missed that. I missed her. I needed her back.

  Her dark mane was down, hanging loose around her shoulders in curls, and I had to stop myself from reaching forward and running my hands through them.

  “Look at me, please,” I begged, blocking out the music and conversations of the people. They faded out, my gaze only seeing her. It was just the two of us.

  She had to hear me out. She needed to hear my side of the story, and I was going to do everything in my power to convince her to. I’d beg. I’d get down on my knees and grovel for her forgiveness in front of the entire crowd. I’d throw out my pride, my masculinity, everything, if it meant she’d come back to me.

  A month. It had been a month since I’d seen her, but she’d never left my mind. I’d been watching her. I was keeping up with her every move. I knew where she lived. I knew where she was working. I knew she’d be here with that Malone heir, and I’d be damned to let that asshole have what was mine.

  No way, no fucking how.

  Another minute passed.

  Nothing.

  I was beginning to lose hope.

  “Please,” I begged again.

  “I’d rather not,” she replied, sternly. Her hand tightened around the champagne flute. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. Let me do the talking,” I pleaded. This was my only chance. I didn’t know if I’d have this opportunity again.