Don't Fall For Me : An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Hate to Love Book 1)

by Gigi Black

  “I’m sorry.” The words never came easy unless I was with her. She humbled me. I didn’t even care that she’d brought me back down to earth. “I was wrong. And I shouldn’t have taken out… my personal issues on you.”

  “Issues?” Hazel raised a palm. “Forget it. Never mind. I don’t care. Apology not accepted. I don’t need the confusion. I have much more important things to worry about right now.”

  “I can help you,” I said. “With your father. Whatever you need, I can help. I have money, Hazel.”

  “I don’t want your money, and I don’t want your help.”

  “Hazel.”

  “What don’t you get?” The words whipped out of her, loud above the patter of starting rain. “You’re nothing but a bad trip, Damien. I can’t accept help from you because that would mean being around you, and I’m not—” She cleared her throat. “I’m not going to have my heart broken by you a third time. Goodbye.” Hazel shut the door on me.

  A third time. A third time?

  “Hazel!” I knocked. “Hazel, please. I can help you. I can…”

  But it was already too late. She’d shut me out, and it was my damn fault in the first place. My fault for not trusting her and for not realizing that I wanted her as more than just a contractual partner or a friend or even a fuck buddy.

  What was I supposed to do, shout “I love you” through the fucking door?

  That would only make things worse. She wouldn’t believe me if I told her.

  I rested my forehead against the door, my fists coming up and pressing into the jamb. “Hazel.” The heavens opened, and rain splattered the front steps, slipped down the back of my neck. “I’m not giving up on you.”

  I stayed a couple minutes, hoping she’d open the door and give me another chance to explain why I’d been a dick. Why I’d held back.

  It was a false hope.

  All I could do now was prove myself to her. Show her that while her world was collapsing around her, there was one thing she could rely on, one thing that was true. I loved her.

  37

  Hazel

  “I’m not giving up on you.”

  Damien’s words were lodged in my mind. They had been all night. I’d gone to sleep crying over him, thinking about what could’ve been, how much I wanted him, and how I couldn’t let him back in again. Certainly not now when things were at their worst.

  The curtains in my bedroom were open a crack, allowing a sliver of morning sunlight through. It slanted across the end of my bed, where Mr. Piddlywump was curled up and fast asleep. I didn’t want to get out of bed.

  But I had my father to worry about, and my sister too—if I didn’t find a way to jerk Kara back into line, I had no idea what would become of her. I’d done my research on the porn industry, and it was horrible to women, for the most part. They were expendable, used and thrown away after a few months when they lost their novelty.

  Though I didn’t want to judge my sister, I also couldn’t stand by without at least trying to help her see sense.

  Not that wanting her to stop wasn’t selfishly motivated—I couldn’t handle another run-in with men who recognized me as “Kinky Kara.”

  I forced myself upright, and Piddly stirred, purring and stretching. He meowed and came over to bump his head against my hands. This had always been our morning routine, a quick scratch behind the ears and then food.

  “All right,” I said and kissed his head. “We’ll get up.”

  I had to get to the hospital today. Kara was going, and God alone knew what she’d say to upset my father. He’d been more wakeful lately, which I took as a good sign. Doctor Washington had told me not to hope, in the kindest way possible, but I couldn’t help myself. I wouldn’t give up on Dad, just like I hadn’t given up on the café.

  A quick trip to the kitchen later, and Mr. Piddlywump and I were settled in the living room, him with his bowl of kibble and me with some cereal that tasted like sawdust. Everything did, nowadays. I sat in my dad’s armchair and inhaled, savoring the scent of him that lingered.

  The first week, I’d tried sitting in my usual spot, but the sight of Dad’s empty chair had made it impossible to think about anything other than him lying in a hospital bed. This was easier. Marginally.

  I switched on the TV and ate mechanically, watching the Blue Planet documentary he’d left in the DVD player. It was a depressing morning ritual, but it kept me sane. It was like having a piece of my father in the house.

  After losing mom, he’d held our family together. Now, what? It was up to me, and I was barely keeping my head above water. I had no idea how he’d done this. When mom had fallen ill, he’d stayed upbeat, carried the weight of our fears on his back, and provided all the while. Kept the café open. Even after her death, he’d remained stoic.

  My vision had gone blurry. I wiped my eyes on the sleeves of my sweater.

  It was too much. Dad sick, Damien back, Kara…

  My phone buzzed with a notification, and I picked it up. It was from one of my social media accounts. Another buzz went off, and then another. People commenting on my posts and sending me private messages.

  “What on earth?” I set my bowl on the coffee table and unlocked my screen.

  My social media profiles, all of them, were blowing up.

  A message popped up on my screen from one of my distant cousins. “I’m so sorry he did that to you. Let me know when you want to talk.”

  What the hell?

  Another came through from a friend I hadn’t spoken to since middle school. “Hey, I know I haven’t touched base with you before, but I just wanted to say I’m so sorry. You know, I’m here if you need anything. Just let me know.”

  “What is going on?” I asked.

  Piddlywump meowed at me.

  I hit my notifications and found that I’d been tagged in post by a national news broadcaster. I strangled out another expletive and hit on the notification. It took me to a social media post—a video. Which I was in.

  Except I had never been interviewed by anyone before, and certainly not by one of the biggest newscasters in the country.

  Hazel McCutcheon Tells All—One Woman’s Story of Abuse and Deceit at the Hands of…

  “Of what?” I hit play.

  “Thank you so much for agreeing to an interview, Miss McCutcheon,” the newscaster said, turning to face Kara. Because of course it was Kara.

  She was dressed modestly for once, wearing a neat buttoned blouse and a pair of my earrings, but it was still Kara. “I thought the world deserves to know the truth. There are so many women out there who suffer silently at the hands of their abusers, and I figured that if I stepped up and spoke out, it would give them confidence to do the same.”

  That was all good and true, but I had a sinking feeling about this. A horrible swirl of fear in my gut. What was Kara doing? Why was she doing it?

  “Tell us about your relationship with Mr. Damien Woods.”

  My vision grayed out, and I forced myself back in the chair, sucking in breaths.

  “Well, he wanted me to fake an engagement with him so he could trick his poor father into making him the CEO of his company,” Kara said. “And I was an idiot. I was manipulated by him because he promised me affection, kindness, love, and money. He said that if I did what he wanted, he would make my dreams come true.”

  “No, no, no, no, no. Kara!” I shrieked at the screen. “What are you doing?!”

  Lying. Damaging not only Damien but every other woman who had a story of abuse to tell. When the truth about this came out, it would set victims back.

  My sister was a piece of shit.

  “And how did the relationship progress?”

  “It was fine at first,” Kara said, “but then the abuse started. Verbal at first, and then—”

  I paused the video because I couldn’t take another second of this. She was evil, wretched, horrible. She was lying on camera, for what? Fame? Had someone paid her to do this? She was ruining my life, Damien’s, and coun
tless others’ by lying. She was invalidating real abuse victims everywhere.

  My heart thudded in my chest.

  I navigated to my settings and muted notifications from all apps, then pulled up my sister’s phone number and hit the button to call her. The phone rang and rang then went to voicemail.

  “Hey, gorgeous.” Kara’s message was breathy. “Leave me a message, and you can bet I will get back to you.” The tone sounded.

  “Yeah, you’d better fucking get back to me,” I thundered, and Piddlywump jumped and streaked under the sofa. “What the hell are you doing? Have you gone mad? Did you really think you would get away with this? Kara, the first thing I’m going to do is tell everyone the truth. I’ll contact every station, every paper, every online fucking e-zine thing, and tell them you lied! You—” The phone clicked, and I hung up, blind rage coursing through me.

  This was a disaster. I’d thought things couldn’t get any worse. I’d been wrong.

  38

  Damien

  I’d formulated a plan for helping Hazel and proving to her that I cared. Two birds with one stone. Christ, that was a distasteful saying.

  All I needed was the right contact to help me get the information I needed. My suspicion had always been that my father was dealing with people he shouldn’t have. How many clandestine meetings had he held in his office at the top of that tower? If I could use that to my advantage…

  My phone buzzed, and my brother’s name flashed on the screen.

  “Seth,” I said. “I’m doing it. I’m going to bring Dad back down to earth while I’m—”

  “Have you seen the news?” Seth asked.

  “No. Look, that’s—”

  “Turn on the fucking news, right now, Damien. This is serious. Shit is going wild.”

  I frowned but picked up the remote and hit the button. I cycled through the channels but stopped when an image of Hazel bloomed on the screen. No, not Hazel. Kara. The mannerisms were different to Hazel’s. More gauche.

  A scrolling banner at the bottom of the screen carried the headline:

  HAZEL McCUTCHEON SURVIVES ABUSE AT HANDS OF BILLIONAIRE BUSINESSMAN

  “Damien was loving at first,” Kara was saying, “but once he was sure he had me, the mask fell away, and he became this demon of a guy. I couldn’t believe that he’d changed so much.”

  “Dude. What the fuck,” Seth said.

  “It’s not Hazel. It’s Kara.” This had my father’s hand all over it. A move that was aimed at destroying my business opportunities. He knew that this wouldn’t stand up, and I couldn’t be charged for abuse because Kara couldn’t press those charges as her sister.

  The truth would come out almost immediately, and Kara would look like a lying fool. Her life would be ruined, but she would get her money. “He must have paid her a packet for this,” I said.

  “How are you so calm?” Seth asked. “This is a fucking disaster.”

  “No,” I said. “It’s not. That’s not Hazel, and I’d bet my ass that the truth will come out the minute she sees what her sister’s done. This is a last-ditch attempt to show me how far Mortimer can reach, but he’s gone too far this time.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “What I should’ve done from the start,” I said and switched off the TV. What was the point in listening to salacious lies? They wouldn’t change anything. “Can you call Hazel?”

  “Why?”

  “Check she’s all right. I can’t do it, at the moment. She doesn’t want to hear from me, but I need to know she’s OK. If it’s coming from you…”

  “Yeah, OK. I get it.”

  “Thanks, brother.”

  “Dude, are you sure you’re OK? This is a step too far,” Seth said.

  “I’m fine. But what about you?” I asked, shamed by how selfish I’d been the last time I’d seen him. He was yet another person trapped in my father’s snare. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m supposed to have a meeting with the directors today,” Seth said, sighing. “And obviously I’m going to tell them I have no interest in being the CEO.”

  “For real.”

  “For real,” he said. “You might not realize it, Damien, but you’re the inspiration for that. Fuck, I’ve always tried to see the best in our father, but I’m not sure there’s anything good left in him. Look at this shit.” The news was playing in the background at his place. “If he can do this, what the fuck else is he capable of? Do I even want to know? I’m not associating myself with that. I didn’t work my ass off, study for years to become a pilot, only to throw it away for a man who clearly cares for himself and no one else.”

  “I’m proud of you,” I said.

  “Ditto. I’ll call Hazel.” He hung up.

  Seth had hit on something in that conversation. If my father was capable of what he’d done this morning, then what else had he done? I was damn sure I’d find out.

  My phone buzzed with another call from a number I didn’t recognize, and I silenced it. I turned off all notifications then dialed the number I’d been holding onto for years. The one that’d been given to me by the only person I’d ever trusted. My mother.

  I hadn’t used this resource out of a sense of responsibility to my brothers, even to Mortimer, and out of fear that I would lose everything. But now? I had nothing left to lose, and the time was finally right.

  “Hello,” the rasping voice answered.

  “Mr. Kuznetsov?”

  “Yes.” A hint of a Russian accent.

  “I have a job for you. I need it taken care of by the end of the week.”

  “The end of this week? Hmm. This is a very big thing to ask of me. You will pay extra for this, yes?”

  “Yeah. Whatever you want.”

  A gravelly chuckle. “Be careful of what you say. What is the name?”

  The breath I’d been holding released. “Mortimer Woods.”

  “Consider this done.”

  39

  Hazel

  I hadn’t been able to sit still since this morning. I’d called every major news outlet and scheduled meetings with all of them. I didn’t want to be in front of millions of viewers telling them what a shitheel my sister was. I didn’t want to expose myself and my life, but it was the right thing to do.

  This had to end before it began. Damien could get hurt. And the social implications were terrible too.

  You still love him.

  I shoved the feelings away and strode down the corridor that led to my father’s room. I nodded to a nurse I passed along the way, and she gave me the same sympathetic smile the others did in this section of the hospital. Everyone here was terminal.

  Swallowing my fear, I pushed open my father’s room door and found him in bed, asleep, a machine blipping next to him.

  Kara sat in a chair against the wall, grinning at her phone as she tapped and scrolled.

  Unbridled rage welled in my chest, and I pointed at her. “You,” I said. “Outside. Right now.”

  “Shush. Keep your voice down. He only just fell asleep, you know. Been pretty talkative all morning. Pity you weren’t here to see it.”

  “Bitch,” I spat.

  Kara reeled. “What’s your problem?”

  “You used my likeness to lie about Damien.” My voice was rising again, and I didn’t want to disturb Dad or let him in on what Kara had done. It would break his heart. I walked over, grabbed her by the arm, and hauled her upright.

  “Get off!”

  “Come with me.” I walked for the door.

  She let me drag her out, half-walking, and still with that stupid smile on her face. The door shut, and we were left semi-alone in the mint green corridor. The passing people were too busy to take much notice of us, thankfully.

  “You utter idiot,” I said. “Why would you do that? Why would you lie in front of everyone? You have no idea how bad this is.”

  “What, for Damien? Fuck Damien,” Kara replied. “He’s a prick. He broke your heart. Why do you care?”


  “Because you lied about being a victim! And you used my name to do it, Kara! Do you have a fucking chip missing or something?” I pointed at her forehead. “You’ve just tried to destroy another human being’s livelihood, and you’ve used me to do it.”

  Kara swallowed, glancing left and right. “It’s not that bad. Mortimer said—”

  “Mortimer!”

  “Yeah, he said that I’d just have to say a few things, and then he’d pay me. It’s not lasting damage. People will find out it wasn’t true in a couple days,” Kara said. “And look.” She lifted her phone and showed me her banking app. “See? He’s already paid me.” There were a lot of zeroes there. “It’s enough to pay for Dad’s hospital bills, and I can put some of it away too. You know, so I don’t have to do porn anymore. This is a good thing.”

  “No, Kara. It’s not a good thing. You’re just as bad as Mortimer. You’re a user.”

  “I did what I had to do to help Dad,” Kara snapped, tossing her hair back. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t have done the same thing.”

  “Of course I wouldn’t.”

  “Oh yeah? Weren’t you the one who lied to everyone about being engaged? For money? You already did the exact same thing as me.”

  “That’s different! And how do you even know about that?” I asked.

  “Mortimer told me,” she said, simply. “He had some private investigator lady plant a recording thing on Damien at this party you two went to, and then he contacted me and told me what was going on and that he was concerned for your safety because Damien is, like, unstable or whatever.”

  “You’re so… how could you believe him?” Was she really trying to pass off what she’d just done as some form of misplaced concern? “I don’t—Kara, you’ve ruined everything.”

  “No, I’ve saved everything.” She flashed me the banking app again. “I don’t see you coming up with any great sum of money to help Dad. You’ve always been on this high horse about being there for him and protecting him and all that shit, but you never did what it took to make sure he had what he needed. If you had, he probably wouldn’t be as sick as he is now.”