It Started with a Lie (Truth and Lies Duet Book 1)

by Lisa Suzanne

  “That’s not an answer.” I walk over toward her and sit on the couch across from her while I wait for my coffee.

  She glances away from me and back at her screen then clears her throat. “I haven’t been sleeping well recently.”

  “Sorry to hear that. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out.” If I would’ve known she was having trouble sleeping, I could’ve helped. I could’ve massaged her shoulders or fucked her into relaxation or simply held her in my arms before she dozed off.

  I don’t say any of that, obviously. Instead, I just sit with arrogance on the couch across from her as she presses her lips into a tight smile and keeps her gaze fixed on whatever she’s working on. I wonder briefly why she had trouble sleeping. Did it have anything to do with me? I’ve read that anxiety can cause insomnia. Am I stressing her out? If I am, I need to work harder on changing that, especially after the way we unexpectedly connected last night.

  “Have you considered bringing the work you’re subcontracting to Germany in-house?” she asks.

  “I thought about that just yesterday,” I say. The coffeepot beeps, signaling that my salvation is ready. I stand and pour in some sugar and a packet of powder cream. It’s not the most appetizing thing in the world, but beggars can’t be choosers and right now I’m desperate for coffee. “I didn’t think I had enough time to touch base with my partners to ensure it’s a good fit.”

  “You made time to drink at a bar with your friend and kiss me on a pier,” she says, and my head whips toward hers in surprise as my brows furrow.

  She looks shocked that she said the words. Her hand flies up to her neck in some attempt to disguise the red embarrassment creeping out of the cleavage of her blouse. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I just mean if it’s important enough, you’ll make time. And this is important enough.” She’s rambling to cover up her embarrassment. “I’ve run the numbers on it and if you can get someone permanently on staff, it’ll actually be a huge cost savings even with benefits and salary. You could hire an entire team for what you’re paying Schneider.”

  I clear my throat and try to hide my smile behind my coffee cup. She’s feisty, and I like it. I like it so much, in fact, that I’m not really sure the thin fabric of my basketball shorts is hiding my total infatuation with this girl. “I know. I’ve run the numbers, too, and I don’t disagree with you. We haven’t had the resources to pull what they do in-house, but I think we’re there now. The problem is that Becker’s on his honeymoon and who the hell knows what Jason’s up to while I’m here in Miami. I didn’t have a big enough window to work this out earlier.”

  “Can you do a shorter-term contract so you can work out the details?” she asks.

  I take a long sip of coffee and give a little ahh as the hot liquid burns down my chest to awaken my senses. “I can offer a one-month extension to their current contract, but I don’t think that’s something Porter would be interested in and I don’t want Schneider to know I’m considering pulling my business from them. I can’t afford a half-assed product from someone who knows their time is limited with me.”

  She nods and gazes thoughtfully out the window. Her lips twist as she obviously concentrates on working out details in her mind, and it’s too early for me to be having a business conversation. It’s not just my first cup of coffee; I haven’t even showered yet. I need a burst of cold water to calm down the boy in my pants and help snap me awake.

  “What if you email Becker and Jason and find out if they’d be on board? Maybe they’ll get back to you before we get to the meeting.”

  “Jason’s three hours behind us, so it’s three in the morning back home.” That also explains why I feel so tired. Well, that and the fact that we were up far too late last night. “And I have no idea where Becker is, but we were given strict instructions not to bother him on his honeymoon.”

  “Try anyway. It’s important.”

  I shake my head. “It’s fine, Viv. We’ll work out the terms and pull from Schneider next year.”

  She gives me a look like that’s just not good enough, and she’s probably right. I’m not in a position to throw money away right now, and if bringing more work to FDB is part of the solution, I need to figure out how to accomplish that. “What if you just can’t come to an agreement today?” she suggests.

  “That’s not really my style. Don’t worry, Viv. I’ll think of something.” I finish my first cup of coffee and get another one brewing, and then I head toward my shower.

  * * *

  I’m off my game during the meeting with Porter, mostly because fucking Vivian is completely distracting me. She sits in the corner taking notes like she’s my secretary, but she’s not. She’s my boss, and it’s not just that.

  She’s this powerful woman who creates all these conflicting feelings in me. I want to fuck her and I want to kick her out of the room. I want to impress her but I don’t care what she thinks of me. I want to be her savior at the same time I want to let her fend for herself.

  I don’t understand what’s happening to me, but when she’s in the room, she becomes the center of my attention. With every deal I try to make, I glance her way to gauge her reaction. With every business tactic I try, I look her way for her nod of approval. With every joke I tell, I check to see if she’s laughing.

  It’s just a crush. I’m attracted to her. Of course I am—why wouldn’t I be? She isn’t just delicate and kind and beautiful. She’s different than the women I typically bed. She’s smart and savvy, and she can hold her own with me. She doesn’t just agree with everything I say to impress me. In fact, it sort of feels like the opposite half the time.

  Plus there’s the rejection side. She let me kiss her last night, but then she told me it was a mistake.

  I always want what I can’t have. It’s why I slithered my way in front of the woman my brother eventually married and got her into my bed before she knew I was related to the god of rock, Mr. Mark Ashton. It’s why I manipulate and lie, and it’s why I work my ass off to make the things I’m not supposed to have mine anyway.

  I just need to figure out how to do that with Vivian Davenport.

  “With the short notice on renewal, Mr. Porter, I need to discuss the terms with my partners and get back to you,” I say. “I’m suggesting a one-week extension on the terms of our deal with Schneider. I’ll come back to sign a brand new contract next week. I think you’ll be pleased with our newest offer. What I have in mind will be lucrative for everyone.”

  Viv shakes her head at me like it’s a bad idea to plan a return trip to Miami, but fuck it. If I can get her back to the beach—and for more than a single night next time—I’ll get her in my bed, and that’s a promise I’m making to myself. We’ll walk the pier, look at the boats, and I’ll kiss her again.

  I can’t believe my motivation behind my current business deal is based on how to bed the girl, yet there it is.

  Paul sighs. “Fine, Mr. Fox. I’m not entirely thrilled with the idea, but I understand the need to discuss the renegotiation with your partners.”

  “I’ll be honest with you. I didn’t expect Schneider’s rates to skyrocket this quarter, and it’ll take some convincing on my part to ensure my partners are still on board.” I’m bullshitting now. It’s probably wrong to begin a sentence with I’ll be honest with you when the words that follow are anything but honest...but I need to buy a week to figure out how to bring the work a company in another country is so adept at doing back home into our offices. I need to make sure it’s something we can even logistically do, that it isn’t just a good idea but something we can actually put into action.

  Paul stands. “We’ll see you in a week, then,” he says, and he reaches out his hand to shake mine. I stand, too, and then we bid our goodbyes and leave.

  The entire meeting took fifteen total minutes.

  It was a complete waste of time, money, and resources to travel across the country for that, yet I can’t help but feel like the whole trip advanced my relationship with Viv
ian.

  I can’t help but think she doesn’t hate me anymore after getting to know each other just a little more—and especially not after that kiss last night.

  chapter twenty-four

  The flight home is sort of like the flight there, but with one major difference.

  Viv sleeps on my shoulder after pounding her drugs while I try to get some work done as I keep my arm as still as possible—just like the flight out. As I review my notes for tomorrow’s presentation, though, I realize what the difference is.

  She doesn’t hate me.

  She didn’t admit it, per se, but the way her eyes fall upon me tell me a different story than they did when we boarded the plane from Vegas to Miami. Now that we’re headed back to Vegas, my mind wanders to what will change.

  Not to whether things will change, because I know they will.

  I feel differently about her now than I did yesterday. It seems like a lifetime ago when I hated her just like she hated me, when we were forced to work together because of my brother. As I think toward what it’ll be like sharing an office with her, a sense of anticipation darts through me rather than dread.

  Now I just have to figure out how to make her see that things are different, too.

  I’m not sure the next time she’ll allow me to be so close to her, so I close my eyes, turn my head in her direction, and breathe her in as we start our final descent. I memorize her rose scent as I tuck it away for later. I think about the kiss we shared last night, and I give into five short minutes of a strange type of relaxation I don’t know I’ve ever felt in my life.

  Once we land, the tranquil spell is broken. I shake her awake, and her blue eyes are sleepy when they come into focus on me. She runs an embarrassed hand over her hair and tucks some behind her ear.

  “Sorry,” she mutters. She runs her fingertips under her eyes to catch any stray make-up, but she’s perfect. She’s always been perfect, I think, but I’d been too blinded by anger at my brother to notice.

  “For what?” I ask, looking away from her and focusing on putting my tablet back into the laptop bag.

  “Using your shoulder as a pillow again.”

  I finish what I’m doing and pull the bag onto my lap, and then I finally look over at her. “Best five hours I’ve spent in a while,” I say softly.

  Her brows draw in as if she’s some mix of surprised and confused by my words, but we don’t have time to analyze them because the door opens and people start making their way for the exit.

  We both carried our bags on, so once we’re off the plane and near the terminal, I ask, “Do you need a ride back to your hotel?” Or to my place?

  “I was just gonna grab an Uber,” she says, avoiding eye contact.

  “I really don’t mind.” It’ll give me a few extra minutes with you.

  “If you’re sure,” she says.

  I nod and we walk together toward my car. I count this as a major victory because if she really did still hate me, she would’ve opted for the Uber.

  But she didn’t. She opted for the leather passenger seat of my Mercedes, and after I toss our bags in the trunk, I open the door for her. She slides in, and I wonder if my car will forever smell of roses. I gaze at the beauty in my front seat just long enough to keep us both comfortable. As I walk around the car to my own seat, a feeling that’s completely foreign washes over me.

  I’ve never lacked self-confidence, but that’s what this is. I’m unsure and doubtful of my next move, and that’s territory I’ve never navigated. I always know what to do when it comes to women. It might not always be the smartest choice or the most honorable way to go, but I do what needs to be done.

  With her, though, it’s different. We’re already faking a relationship. Why can’t it turn into something more?

  Viv tries to hand me money for the parking attendant, but I wave her off without a word as I pull my wallet out of my pocket. I may be short on cash, but I remember with joy that my black card is all thawed out.

  As I hand over the card to the attendant, I realize the only roadblock standing in our way of giving this a try is her little thing about not wanting to cross the professional line, but surely I’ll come up with something to combat that. We’re only working together for ninety days, anyway, and we’re already a few weeks in. If I have to wait for her, then so be it.

  Wait a minute.

  Wait for her?

  I’m willing to wait for her?

  The thought crosses into my mind so naturally it momentarily floors me when I realize it.

  “You’re quiet,” Viv says once we’re out of the parking lot and on the back roads toward her hotel. It’s a Thursday night, a popular night for people to arrive in town for their What-Happens-in-Vegas-Stays-in-Vegas getaway from reality, so traffic’s heavy.

  I pretend like that’s what has me distracted since I can’t exactly admit I’m thinking about her. And it’s not just getting her into my bed anymore. There’s something else there, something in my chest that tingles in an unexpected way, something unfamiliar and, if I’m being truly honest with myself, it’s more than just a little terrifying.

  “Sorry,” I say. “Just paying attention to traffic.”

  I feel her eyes on me, but I don’t look over at her. It’s not that I think she’ll be able to read my feelings on my face—I’ve perfected the mask and the act so women never really know what I’m thinking, but I know making eye contact with her in this moment might be dangerous. It might make me blurt something out she’s not ready to hear.

  Or maybe it’ll lead me right to her bed—the exact place I want to be tonight.

  I pull up to the Westin, all the while debating whether I should park the car and walk her up or just let her out. Before our trip to Miami, I would’ve just let her out. But now...things have changed. I don’t want her to see me as a jerk. So with that thought in mind, I pull up in front of the lobby and drop her off.

  “Wait!” she yells as I pull away. I’m sure she’s trying to stop me from driving off with her bag, but I pull into an open parking space, grab her bag out of the trunk, and meet her by the doors.

  “I thought you were taking off with my suitcase,” she says, laughing.

  I shake my head and give her a wry smile. “I suppose ditching you at the AceStar gala might’ve given you the impression I’m much more of a dick than I actually am.”

  She raises a brow, but her eyes twinkle. “Might’ve?”

  I lift a shoulder. “I’m sorry. I acted like an epic douche that night, and you deserved a better date. Can I make it up to you?”

  She narrows her eyes at me and spins on her heel. I follow behind with her suitcase.

  “How?” she asks.

  “There’s a charity ball next Friday.”

  She stops at the reception desk. “Checking back in,” she says to the clerk, and then she turns toward me. “Yeah?”

  “Go with me.”

  She blows out a breath. “I don’t know, Brian,” she says.

  “Come on. It’ll be fun, and besides, you know the deal with Jason.”

  She looks me over, and before she can answer, the clerk interrupts us. “I’ve got you in the same room, Ms. Davenport.”

  I glance over at him, and he gives me a grin. The asshole knows I’m waiting for her answer.

  “That’ll be perfect,” she says to him. He taps some more keys, and she looks at me. “It’s not the fact that you ditched me, Brian. I don’t care. It’s your life and your business, and if you think leaving with that woman was a good idea for you personally or professionally, then that’s on you. What bothered me was how you treated me before that. Like I’m less worthy than the dirt on your shoes, because at least the dirt is on your shoes.”

  “Here you are, Ms. Davenport.” The clerk hands her a key and a booklet and shoots me another sly smile. I want to punch it off his smug face, and I’m not enjoying the fact that he’s overhearing this private conversation. “Enjoy your stay.”

  “Thanks,” she sa
ys, and she turns toward the elevators. “I can take my bag from here,” she says. She moves to grab it from my hands, but I pull it back.

  “Let me take it up for you,” I say.

  She rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

  We step onto the elevator, and the tension feels thick. Thoughts of my lips moving over hers as we stood on a pier less than twenty-four hours ago attack my memory.

  I stare straight ahead, but I allow myself a tiny glance of her in the mirrored doors of the elevator.

  She’s looking at me. My eyes catch hers, and neither of us looks away until the elevator lands on her floor and the doors slide open.

  It was just one simple lock of our eyes, but it told me everything I need to know.

  She wants me, too, but something’s stopping her. I just have to figure out if it’s the professional relationship thing or something more.

  “Let me think about the ball,” she says once we’re stopped in front of her hotel door. She slides the key in and avoids eye contact with me as she says it.

  “Okay,” I say, and that's when I know for sure tonight’s not our night. If I want to get onto her good side, part of that will include treating her the way she deserves to be treated and respecting her wishes.

  Once we’re in the room, I set her suitcase on the dresser for her. I glance at the bed as every thought about what I want to do there with her flashes through my mind, but I quickly avert my eyes back to Viv. “See you tomorrow,” I say.

  She presses her lips together and nods, and then I see myself out.

  chapter twenty-five

  Friday morning comes too quickly.

  After I left Viv’s hotel and came home, I went over my presentation for today a hundred more times, making sure everything’s perfect. I present at nine, and between getting home late, unpacking, and prepping, I’m running on caffeine, two hours of sleep, and the hope that Viv decides to come with me to the ball next weekend so we can turn our fake relationship into a real one.