No longer giving half a damn about the bell, Lucas pushed off and started rappelling down the wall. She’d said fear, but the expression on her face had been more than a little scared. She’d been terrified, but still she’d jumped. Right off the damn wall, taking a leap of faith. What kind of person did that? It’d be like him diving into a relationship and to hell with the consequences. It made no sense.
He hit bottom before Mercedes’s line was slack enough that she crumpled to the deck. He tore off his belay line and knelt by her side, brushing the hair off her face. “Mercedes? Are you okay? What happened?”
“Did I win?” She was shaking so hard as a staff member unhooked her from the safety line, the words came out from between chattering teeth, and it took a minute for him to understand.
“Yes. You are free and clear; no more dancing or kissing required. Satisfied?”
“For now.” Her fists unclenched and her body sagged against him.
It felt so natural there, so right, that he had to keep himself from wrapping his arms around and holding her close. He still didn’t understand what she’d meant before she jumped, but now didn’t feel like the right time to push for answers no matter how badly he wanted them. Instead, he decided to press his luck and see if she’d stick around for a little while. “So what’s next? Another bet? FlowRider? Zip-line?”
She groaned, the sound weak and muffled as she shoved away, leaving him feeling somehow heavier without her weight. “No. This tapped out my face-your-fears plan for the day and I’m not changing clothes again until dinner.”
He watched as she fumbled with the harness, finally reaching over and unfastening it for her as he frowned. He might not be willing to ask what she meant by that other fear she mentioned, but since she brought this one up he figured it was fair game. “If you’re afraid of heights, why did you pull that stunt up there?”
Standing, she tried for a smile, but it faltered. “Marco.” She turned to the attendant, handed off the harness, and started walking away, her steps still unsteady.
“Polo.” When she didn’t stop, he scrambled to his feet and out of his own rigging, then raced after her. “If it’s some big secret, I’ll let it go, but I offered you a way out with the tie. Why didn’t you take it?”
Snorting a laugh, she stabbed the elevator call button and leaned against the wall. Her arms were still shaking when she moved to cross them and balled her hands into fists instead, dropping them back to her sides. “Because it’s called facing your fear for a reason. Pussing out on your fear just keeps you afraid longer. Besides, I made a promise to a kid.”
Named Marco apparently. At least that part he understood. The rest…
Screw it. If she was walking again anyway, there was no reason to be cautious. “But you mentioned something else you were afraid of…”
Stopping, she met his gaze and ran a hand tenderly against his cheek. “It’s not something I can make you understand. I wouldn’t know where to start.” The doors opened and she sidestepped inside, still looking at him. “But to keep it simple, let’s just say you scare me. You, Luc Bellamy, terrify me. There’s the truth you wanted to a question you asked. Guess that means we tied after all.”
The doors started to close, and he braced them with his hand. “What about my kiss?”
Without a word, she rose on her tiptoes and leaned into him, her lips crushing against his hard enough to bruise. Then she was gone and the metal slid shut, blocking her from view. But the kiss had been more than just a kiss. She’d trembled harder than she had been when she finished with the rock wall. There was more going on there, and he refused to let it go until he found out what.
Lucas Bellamy was used to getting the answers he sought from every quarter, and he’d be damned if he made an exception for Mercedes.
He watched the numbers to see where the elevator stopped. Deck four and then it started back up again. There were a limited amount of places she could go down there. Perfect.
No matter what she might think, her silence wasn’t some magical wall of protection. As he knew all too well from dealing with his father, it was how people broke you. Even though breaking Mercedes wasn’t his plan, he recognized her fear for what it was…the chink in her armor.
…
Mercedes’s hands hadn’t stopped shaking by the time she collapsed in front of the slot machine. The lights reflecting on the mirrored ceiling were enough to make her head pound. Looking down wasn’t any better. The red swoops and swirls in the carpet were too bright—hyper-real. She gazed straight at the machine, hoping she could find some serenity and maybe some answers in its depths. But the trio of images staring at her gave back nothing.
Slot machines were useless.
This wasn’t working. Even if she could make Lucas fall in love with her, spending time with him was doing things to her brain. For Christ’s sake, she’d jumped off a rock wall! If not for the belay line, she could have died.
Stupid Lucas Bellamy and his stupid games. And what was he doing making her feel ridiculously safe dozens of feet from anything even vaguely resembling solid ground?
She tried to focus on the money he agreed to pay when he lost the bet. It was a grand Better Todays hadn’t had a little while ago. Hell, maybe if she played her cards right, she could get him to make some more stupid bets. The money would rack up and increase Better Todays’ chance of getting the land.
That would work—no getting him to fall in love with her necessary. As long as she kept her eye on the prize, she could play this game.
And as long as work didn’t turn into another round of sex-dancing. Or spontaneous kisses. Or lose-her-mind sex. Just sitting here she could still feel him. His eyes locked on hers, his hand on her waist, fingers inching the hem of her shirt up to touch bare skin. Her clit started to throb and she squeezed her legs together. Eyes closed, she tried to picture dollar signs eclipsing his face. This was about Better Todays and the playground.
Who was she trying to kid?
Everything about Lucas sucked her in and made her lose herself. It wasn’t like college, not really, but he had that same charisma Cole had. The kind of guy people wanted to hang out with just for the energy he gave off. She’d fallen for it back then, and Cole had made her into the girl who would do whatever he wanted because he gave her all the shiny things she could ask for.
Then when things had gotten tough he’d called her his Mexican whore.
Her stomach clenched just thinking about it.
She couldn’t let that history repeat itself, not with how things had turned out in the end. Even if he acted as though he liked her just the way she was, Lucas Bellamy was a drug, one far more addictive than anything she’d tried back in college.
She needed to immerse herself in something else—anything else—and clearly her attempt at focusing on heights had been a wash. Without another thought, she dropped a quarter into the slot machine and pushed the button. The reels spun and spun, like her damn mind, jolting to a stop on the least useful images in the world.
Nothing.
No answers, just pieces that didn’t fit together.
Dios, she was turning into a melancholy bitch.
This time she shoved the quarter in like she was smacking the machine and yanked the handle. Buttons were for lazy-ass gamblers.
Spin, spin, spin.
Better Todays.
Playground.
Marco Belluci.
School.
Drugs.
Lucas Bellamy.
Stop!
Mercedes rubbed the heels of her hands against her temples, trying to drive the thoughts away. Damn that man for bringing memories better left buried back to life.
“Headache? I’ve heard foolhardy acrobatic stunts can do that to a person.”
She didn’t open her eyes as she leaned against the machine, her forehead hitting the button to send the reels spinning again. It was so much easier when she was allowed to just hate him. This plan to get close to him, while lucrative
, was complicating everything.
Charming. She needed to be charming. Too bad every instinct told her to lash out and then run as fast and as far as she could. “What are you doing here? Not even sure Pinocchio’s conscience was this attentive.”
“Probably not, but you’re far more attractive than a wooden boy. And I hope I’m more enticing than a cricket.” He settled on the stool next to her and ran his fingers through her hair. Mercedes fought not to lean into his touch. “I know you gave me my truth and the kiss, but I needed to make sure you were okay.”
“Why?”
“Because I care?”
A question, not a statement. Care didn’t equal love but maybe, if she was going to go through with this, it was a step in the right direction. “And in a few days, you’ll disappear and stop caring. It’s why you scare me.” He didn’t need to know the truth hidden inside that particular lie.
For a minute he didn’t say anything, just sat there, combing through her hair like the conversation had reached a natural conclusion. “I’m not going to spin some bullshit line and say I plan to make an honest woman of you at the end of the week.”
She snorted. “Does anyone actually say that anymore?”
“Probably not, but the point is, beyond the money you just won, I still owe you a hundred hours. I made a commitment and I’m going to honor it. The end of the cruise isn’t the last day we’re going to see each other.”
Somehow we’re still going to work together sounded less like love than caring did. At least she could use it though. “It’s not going to work.”
“What?”
She heard the laughter in his voice—he knew perfectly well what. “Pretending that will mean something more than it does.”
“I wasn’t doing that, but I could start if you’d prefer.”
No. She’d prefer he’d been anyone other than Luc Bellamy so this could be real. Even the risk of losing something worthwhile would be more acceptable than the risk of losing herself to New York’s biggest playboy. “Perfect. You go buy me a giant diamond ring and I’ll hold my breath until you come up with the perfect proposal.”
He laughed, the sound so full and rich she wanted to wrap herself in it. “If I was going to propose to you, I would take you to Harry Winston’s or Tiffany’s. It certainly wouldn’t be anything I’d pick up on a cruise ship.”
“Of course you would. How silly of me.”
Fingers pressed gently into her chin. She wanted to resist and stay right where she was, but just his touch had her shaking all over again. So she turned and tipped her head up to meet his eyes. “For now, we’ll forget the pretend engagement and I’m just going to promise to show you a fabulous time tonight. For the moment, I’ll leave you to your gambling—though for someone as worried about money as you it’s an odd choice of pastime.”
He had a point. But she didn’t think the ten dollars in quarters she’d burned through was going to bring down Better Todays.
“Judging by your betting nature, it’s one you indulge in on a regular basis. Isn’t it, rich boy? Nice life you’ve got there.” She stuck her tongue out, hoping it kept her words playful rather than sounding as bitter as they tasted.
Sighing, he leaned down like he would kiss her. “Money never bought me a better life. Stuff can make life easier, but easier and better are rarely the same things.” He shoved a quarter in her machine. “At the end of the day, happiness still can’t be bought. See you after dinner.”
The reels spun as he walked deeper into the casino.
He made it sound so simple, but he really didn’t understand anything about her life. She’d only told him the pretty parts—the ones fit for public consumption. Money might not buy happiness, but it bought a lot of other things. It could buy the kids safety, eventually buy them an escape from whatever bad cycle or neighborhood they were stuck in.
It could keep them from clinging to the wrong people for an escape, for salvation, and help them find their way to a better life through their own talents and hard work.
It could do a lot of good, and maybe—just maybe—if she could find enough money, do enough good, it would buy her absolution. And that would be a lot like happiness.
When the machine finally stopped spinning, bells erupted and a light on the top flashed and danced. Mercedes blinked at the screen. Five hundred dollars.
Part of her wanted to race after Lucas and thank him. The money would more than pay for surprises to take back to the kids. But the other part of her—the part that had never left the park where she lay down with little Marco that night, unable to stop his bleeding bullet wound—wanted to hate Lucas for the simple fact that even something so stupid as a winning slot machine pull had come easy to him.
Chapter Seven
Scowling, Lucas pushed the bar up and off the rack, the muscles in his arms and chest straining already, just the way he needed. He still hadn’t figured out if Mercedes was toying with him or if she didn’t care that they were after the same property. Every time they were together, it just felt right. Felt good enough to make him want more.
Could he really afford to think beyond the cruise? Did he want to?
She’d brought up the end of the week—pointing out their time together was limited—which reinforced that when they stepped off the ship, they’d go their separate ways. At best they’d see each other at charity events. That was how it should be—two lives intersecting and diverging again. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t stop thinking about her or that he kept hearing Rosie’s voice as his damn conscience at moments like this, urging him to chase after Mercedes no matter what.
He didn’t do that, damn it. Chasing had long-term implications, and long-term led to love. Love inevitably led to heartbreak. The one time he’d really opened his heart, death had ripped Rosie from him. Just as it had stolen away her husband. For a while he’d thought love would be worth the risk, but no more. He wasn’t willing to suffer that sort of devastation again.
Keep it light and easy; that was his motto.
Still, he chuckled, thinking about how Rosie would have liked Mercedes’s passion for helping kids. Her disdain for material possessions. Her smart mouth and biting wit.
The way she made Luc laugh and just…be.
He couldn’t do it though. Rosie or no Rosie, he would not lose himself. Especially when he knew damn well Mercedes was keeping secrets. There were things she didn’t want to share, which only proved they weren’t supposed to get close. What did he know about her, really? Hell, how much did she know about him? Or his company even?
His great-grandfather had started with less than nothing and built Bellamy Enterprises from the dust of the Great Depression. The next two generations of Bellamy men had made it into the monster of a company it was when Lucas took over after his dad’s death. He was pretty sure his father and grandfather were rolling over in their graves with the changes he’d been making but Lucas liked to think great-grandpa would have approved.
The company still earned money hand over fist like it always had. He just didn’t make a habit of hoarding it or funneling it right back into making the monster bigger. Instead, Lucas put much of it into the community, contributing to hospitals and research and things like Rosie’s school. He’d even funded medical and educational missions overseas to some of the places most in need. There’d been a time he’d ignored charity in favor of the world his father had shown him, embracing his wealth and notoriety. Then he’d grown up and started becoming a man Rosie would’ve been proud of.
But falling in love was completely off the table.
He pushed the bar up again with a grunt. Rosie had loved the ballet and he’d be damned if he ever stopped feeding money that way no matter how much it would’ve pissed his father off. She’d been like a mother to him for years, but he still remembered the first time he’d taken her to the theater.
He’d caught her watching The Nutcracker on TV the Christmas after he turned seventeen. She was supposed to be cleaning for his paren
ts’ upcoming holiday party. The look of horror on her face made him laugh so hard that he’d barely managed to get out the words when he promised not to squeal.
Like he could ever rat out the woman who nursed him through the flu. And also taken care of him during more than one hangover—those ministrations coming with calm and quiet lectures. She’d held his hand so many damn times he was surprised they hadn’t become fused together.
The next day, he’d presented her with her ticket to see the New York City Ballet perform. Two weeks later, instead of the dancers, he’d watched as tears ran down the cheeks of the woman who had raised him while his parents had been too busy being rich.
That one night led to conversations about her past and her husband. The man had been the love of her life. Perfection in skin she’d called him, always with a dreamy look in her eyes, like she could still see him to that day. Their relationship had become his gold standard upon which all others were measured. He wanted a woman who looked at him the way Rosie did when she talked about her husband.
Lucas left for college and set out on an absurd quest to find perfection in skin. Girl after girl, woman after woman, none of them measured up and he became jaded enough to think that kind of perfection didn’t exist.
His parents hadn’t really understood why he’d been so inconsolable when Rosie died. How could he tell them that she’d been the parent they’d never been—that it was Rosie who had taught him about love and understanding?
That with her gone, he had no direction anymore.
And damn it to hell and back if he hadn’t heard Rosie laughing every time he and Mercedes poked at each other. It was like her ghost knew how much more relaxed he was with Mercedes—how life had become fun again. All those years searching among high society and celebrities and his first glimpse of perfection in skin came in the guise of a charity worker from Queens.
Could Mercedes really be something worth holding onto?
Snap out of it, Bellamy. Just because she’s the most intriguing woman you’ve ever met doesn’t mean anything. Different doesn’t equate to special. The only difference between her and the others is this one’s not after your money. Don’t let your guard down or she’ll end up sneaking in and stealing the one thing you can’t replace.
Seducing Her Rival Page 8