Bad Boy (An Indecent Proposal)

by J. C. Reed

  “You said your parents died in a road accident when you were nine,” I said.

  He shook his head. “It was a lie, Laurie. I couldn’t tell you the truth, not when we barely knew each other.”

  “I’m sorry.” I looked up and flinched at the intensity in his eyes filled with pain.

  “There’s nothing you can do,” Chase said. “There’s nothing anyone could have done. For a long time, we thought it had been an accident, until we found the note. He had killed himself out of desperation, so that we’d get his life insurance money to pay for my mom’s medical treatment. He did it so that my brother and I could still go to college and have a future; so that my mom would get well. Needless to say, my mom’s treatment came too late and she didn’t make it.” His gaze pierced my heart, his gray blue eyes both beautiful and shattering. “So, as you can see, we have more in common than you think,” he whispered. “We’ve both lost our parents thanks to Clint.”

  I let out a shaky breath. Chase’s words felt raw, intimate. In fact, they were more intimate than anything he had ever told me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I had no idea.”

  I wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him, take away the pain, while another part of me demanded that I stay away.

  He shrugged, as though his life story wasn’t a big deal. “It’s fine.” He looked away. “Now you know why I have to do it. My father was a victim. We all were. Believe it or not, I do care about you,” he said quietly. “But this is something I owe my family. Because everything he owns is connected to your inheritance, I can make him suffer. For once, I want him to feel the pain we felt. I want him to lose something he loves—and in his case that’s money.”

  “That’s why you married me,” I said to process the news. Shaking my head, I poured myself another glass of wine and gulped it all down. Only after the liquid had traveled down my throat, leaving a bitter trail in its wake, did I turn to face Chase.

  “You wasted your time,” I said softly. “Even if I wanted to help, all I get is a quarter. If you had been upfront with me before, I would have been able to help you. You shouldn’t have lied and tricked me into believing you cared for me. I would have understood. But now the whole thing was in vain. I signed an agreement before I married you, so the inheritance is practically his.”

  “Is it?” Chase counteracted.

  “Is what?” I asked, confused.

  “Is the inheritance still his if he never received the signed agreement?”

  My eyes narrowed as I took in his words. Was it my imagination or had his expression softened?

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “I gave him the signed agreement before we got married.”

  “That may be true, but what if the contract you signed disappeared?” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Maybe it never existed. Would you say it was still valid?”

  I shook my head, confused.

  “Of course it exists. I signed it.” I stared at him. “What are you getting at? It sounds as though you’re trying to pull me into that gray legal area with you, and I’m not interested in getting involved.”

  He leaned back against the seat. “I might or might not have it.”

  My heart skipped a beat. Then another. I felt as though I was stuck on a roller coaster ride and everything was going too fast.

  “You do not have it,” I said slowly. “Because if you did—”

  It would be illegal—just like about everything else that involved Chase.

  “Okay, maybe I don’t have it, but I did until it burned.”

  “You broke into Clint’s home and stole the contract?” I asked in disbelief.

  He regarded me with an amused glint in his eyes. “Not into his home, but his lawyer’s.”

  I let out a brief laugh.

  Holy shit.

  The guy was trouble.

  “That breaks the law on so many levels.” I shook my head, unable to comprehend the way his mind worked. “Chase, you’re a lawyer. At least that’s what you’re claiming to be. Why would you do that? Aren’t you supposed to stick to the rules?”

  He cocked a brow. “Do I look like a cop? No, I’m a lawyer, and in all the years I worked as one, I learned a lot. Sometimes, to achieve a goal, you have to break the rules,” he said. “Everyone does it because the law’s corrupt. Ask any lawyer and he’ll tell you the same thing. Clint doesn’t have the right to take what’s yours. He had no right to take what was ours. Now that I’m your husband, I have the power and the right to take legal action against him.”

  “Was that really your plan all along?”

  “To contest your mom’s will? Yes.” He nodded his head, the motion strengthening his words.

  “Even if I wanted to, I can’t allow it,” I said frightened at the thought of welcoming more chaos into my life.

  “When I said you won’t have a choice, I meant it, Laurie,” he said. “You should have asked for a prenup. Without one, I have access to everything that belongs to you, unless you get a divorce, in which case you won’t see your mom’s letters.”

  Maybe what he said was true, and maybe it wasn’t.

  For the first time, I realized how naïve I had been. He was a lawyer, I wasn’t. He was prepared to do whatever it took to further his agenda; I wasn’t.

  I swallowed hard, but couldn’t quite get rid of the lump lodged in my throat.

  “It’s not your right to interfere in my life,” I said angrily. “Just so you know, Clint never forced me to give him anything. I did it freely. He’s been offering me money for years—money I never took.”

  “I know that.” Chase nodded slowly. “Your mom told you not to take anything, right? It’s the reason you gave up everything.”

  My whole body tensed.

  He was right.

  It was the only reason, something I might have mentioned to him. But he knew way more than the bits and pieces of information I had fed him.

  “Don’t ever talk about my mom again. It was her wish that Clint receive the money, so I’m going to respect it.”

  “Laurie,” he started, his voice serious, heavy. “Did you ever stop to think about why she would demand something like that from her daughter? Your own mother out of all people.” He inched closer to me until his thigh brushed mine. I peered at it for a second, unsure whether to put some distance between us, when he resumed the conversation. “Did it never occur to you that maybe she was forced? That maybe she had no choice? That maybe she was fearing for her life?”

  Slowly, his face came closer, his hot breath brushing my lips. “Think, Laurie. The entire estate belonged to your mom. It’s been in your family for generations—not just money, but heirlooms. You really think anyone would give it away to someone they’ve known for a few years rather than their own child?”

  “I’m sure she had her reasons,” I protested weakly, even though I knew he was right.

  The same thoughts had occurred to me years ago. They had kept circling in my mind, coming and going at regular intervals. Even Jude had tried to pinpoint it to me, and I had brushed her off simply because I could feel just how right she was.

  “And yet Clint insists that you get a fraction of your inheritance,” Chase said coolly. “Do you know why he wants you to have it? As your lawyer, I can tell you it’s so you won’t be able to contest the terms of the will later, once you find out your mom wasn’t well. That’s why he wanted a written agreement. If you simply refused to sign, you would have received everything. And then there’s another matter.”

  “What?” I asked faintly.

  “Your grandparents were the actual owners of Waterfront Shore. Your mom was their heir, followed by you. Your grandfather was still alive when she died, which is why I think Clint adopted you. She was living there, yes, but the entire estate never belonged to your mom in the first place. By adopting you Clint became your legal guardian, meaning he got the estate through you once your grandfather passed away. Legally speaking, her testament should never have been implem
ented because the estate had never been passed on to her. I think she left that legal loophole open because she knew something was off about Clint.”

  I leaned back, both in shock and realization, my thoughts racing. “Are you saying my mom wanted me to have the inheritance?” My voice dripped with disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Well, that’s too bad.” I frowned at his words. “I have every reason to believe that your mom’s letters contain her real thoughts on the matter.”

  His words made my head spin. “How do you know all this?”

  He smiled gently. “The law is complex, particularly when you’re a minor and your legal guardian, the one person who should be looking out for you, has only his own gain in mind. I don’t believe your mom was as crazy as Clint made her out to be. I believe she was scared. In fact, so scared that she put it in writing.”

  He hadn’t answered my question.

  I shook my head again. My hands were clammy and trembling. The past I had left behind was catching up with me. I needed to be alone, if only to figure out my next step.

  “The ten minutes are over, Chase,” I said weakly. “Tell the driver to stop the car.”

  “We’ll reach the hotel in a few minutes.”

  “I want to leave now!”

  Chase grimaced. “Laurie, you don’t even know where you are.”

  “That’s not your problem,” I said harsher than intended. “Stop the car, Chase.”

  He sighed, and then he pressed a button. “As you wish.”

  Within seconds, the limousine came to a halt. As soon as the door opened, I jumped out and took off down the street without a glance back.

  Chapter 15

  The streets were cramped, so avoiding people wasn’t easy. I walked down the busy road with no idea where I was. A few taxis drove by. I ignored them all. The hotel couldn’t be far away, but I didn’t feel like locking myself up. I needed the walk to process Chase’s words. Everything inside my mind was a blur, but if I concentrated hard enough, I could hear my mom’s voice.

  It had been on one of those days where she was lucid enough to talk and remember she still had a daughter. She’d brought me to my bed, a soft smile on her pale lips.

  “You can never trust a man, baby girl,” my mom whispered. “Don’t make the same mistake I did. Don’t fall in love. Don’t trust them, because all men are the same. They betray you, hurt you, and take away your innocence.”

  I glanced at her, assured I would always listen to her, the way I always did, and told her I would always love her—my words those of a child, trusting, truthful, unconditional.

  At that time, I was only seven and had no clue about the world or love. She pressed me real hard against her chest, telling me how much she loved me and how often she had thought of running away with me to keep me safe; that she couldn’t deal with another loss.

  Back then, I had no idea what she meant.

  But now I wished I had listened; I wished I remembered more, if only to get a glimpse into the workings of her mind; to see her beautiful face once more, hear her voice, feel the soft touch of her hand on my cheek.

  A stray tear trickled down my face as I forced my legs to keep moving through the busy streets of Acapulco. Inside me, chaos, pain, and more chaos roared, the remembrances of my mother and her immediate loss too heavy to bear.

  I missed her. Missed her smell, her smile, her hugs.

  In my memories, she was always pale, her face framed by beautiful dark curls, and her warm brown eyes always smiling. Her fingers were long and thin—a pianist’s hands as some would say—and she always smelled clean with a hint of lavender.

  Conjuring her picture before my eyes made me think of how unlucky she was to die so young, how depressed she must have been to jump off the cliff. Or maybe it wasn’t depression but desperation that drove her to commit suicide, just like Chase’s dad drove off a cliff because he couldn’t provide for his family.

  When Chase mentioned that my mom had been scared for her life, I knew that he was right. After all, my mother had locked me inside my bedroom on a regular basis and sent me away to boarding schools, as if the Waterfront Shore wasn’t safe. As if she couldn’t risk having me around.

  As a child, I had always assumed her fear was all in her head.

  But now?

  I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

  Had Clint hurt her?

  The possibility of him hurting her scared me. Still, as much as I wanted to, I just couldn’t image him being a violent man.

  Sneaky and manipulative, yes.

  But violent?

  He was obsessive compulsive to the point of disliking to touch things and people. When I grew up, he had made it pretty clear that any physical proximity was out of the question. The only real hug he ever gave me was at my mom’s funeral and a few weeks ago, during his first visit in years.

  Ahead was a market, the smell of food pungent. Hastening my steps, I tried not to inhale too deeply out of fear that my nausea would return with a vengeance. I passed the market and the rough buildings to either side. I was so engrossed in my past that I only heard the steps behind me when they were within arm’s reach. I turned quickly, almost expecting Chase.

  But it wasn’t him.

  A guy in his twenties, dressed in a blue shirt and jeans, looked down at me.

  My heart lurched in my chest.

  I stopped to rummage through my bag to grab my phone, ready to speed-dial someone while I stared straight at his face. I’d read somewhere that if you ever found yourself followed, the best way to handle the situation was to get a good look at your pursuer to signal them that you’d remember their face, and aren’t easy prey.

  To my relief, the guy barely looked at me as he walked past, then turned a corner. My glance followed him as he disappeared around the corner.

  I let out a long breath and leaned against the wall, my phone pressed tightly against my chest. My breathing slowed down a little, but my heart didn’t stop hammering.

  Why the fuck did I think it was Chase? As if he’d follow after me when I had made myself clear that I wanted nothing to do with him.

  “Stupid,” I muttered and pushed the phone back into my bag. A glance at my watch showed that I had been walking for an hour.

  Where was the frigging hotel?

  That’s when I noticed the crowd of five guys heading in my direction. Worse yet, I caught their curious glances, two of them even checking me out. Someone made a remark, and they all laughed.

  My heart started to pick up in speed again, and my entire body tensed.

  Should I keep on walking or turn around?

  I had no idea.

  One of them shouted, “Hola bonita.”

  I froze to the spot, and my uneasiness turned into panic. Before I could decide what to do, a hand touched my waist, and I jumped, a scream lodged in my throat.

  I turned and stared right into Chase’s face.

  His expression was one of worry, his posture tense. I knew I should be mad, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but shoot him a hesitant smile as immense relief washed over me.

  He bent forward and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me, until his lips brushed my ear.

  “Keep on walking,” he whispered. His grip around my waist tightened just a little bit, but there was nothing sexual about the gesture.

  His tension was palpable.

  I nodded and resumed my walk, keeping my head low.

  The moment we past the crowd I turned to him and hissed, “Are you following me?”

  “Only to ensure your safety.” He didn’t even try to deny it.

  “Why do you care?” I asked.

  “Believe it or not, I don’t want you to get hurt. And you’re walking in the wrong direction.” He pointed behind him. “The hotel’s that way.”

  Of course I had been walking in the wrong direction. I groaned inwardly. I should have called a taxi a
long time ago.

  “Where’s your driver?” I asked and peered around me even though there was no sight of the limousine.

  “I sent him home. Do you want me to call him?”

  The thought of spending more time in a confined space made my heart race—and not exactly in a bad way.

  Judging from the slow smirk on his face he knew it.

  Why the fuck did I have to ask?

  “No. Forget it.” I shielded my eyes against the hot sun and turned away from him.

  “Let me take you home, Laurie,” Chase said softly, misinterpreting my words. “As soon as you’re inside the lobby, I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

  I sighed. “It’s not that.” I turned back to regard him. “I’m actually glad you’re here.”

  He frowned. “You are?”

  “Believe it or not, I am,” I said, echoing his expression from earlier. It was true. I was in a foreign country with absolutely no knowledge of the culture and barely any command of the language.

  “Doesn’t mean I forgive you, though. What you did is—”

  “Despicable. I know. And I couldn’t agree more.”

  “But I’m really glad you’re here. I kind of felt followed. And—” I wriggled my hands, suddenly unsure why I was telling him all that.

  “By me?” he asked.

  “No, by a guy in a blue shirt.”

  We reached the market—people spilling in and out, chatting, carrying bags. I had never seen such a commotion in my entire life. I wasn’t scared of crowds, but my nerves were frayed.

  “Have you been inside?” he asked, pointing toward the market.

  I cocked my head, regarding him amused. “Well, you tell me. You followed me for a good hour.”

  “Did I?” Chase asked. I looked up, surprised at his question. “I’m afraid I didn’t notice. I was too transfixed.”

  And there it was again.

  The humor in his voice.

  The sparkle in his eyes.

  To my absolute disbelief, my heart started to flutter again.

  “On what?” My eyes narrowed.