Ruined: A Contemporary Bad Boy Romance

by Lisa Lace

  I drink the last of my champagne, and Vincent refills from the bottle at the center of the table. “Drink up, Ethan. It’s a celebration.”

  “What are we celebrating?”

  “I have Bates, and you have a new cell phone game. Congratulations, by the way. Destiny is a hit. Sad to see you’ve sold out, though. Seriously, online dating?” He shakes his head. “I thought you took yourself a bit more seriously than that, Ethan.”

  “I’m making money, Vincent. You’re poaching my clients because you know I’m about to fold you for the last time.” I lean forward on the table and fix him with a lethal stare. “How long will your company last without the defense contract? I hear you’re on the rocks.”

  He laughs. “Don’t believe everything you hear. I have a few tricks left up my sleeve, and I’m going to win that contract.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  One hand has curled into a fist under the table. Any other place, any other time, I would have taken a swing at him. Only Vincent Oswald would have the audacity to gloat about his dirty deeds to my face.

  Vincent casually pulls out his cell from his pocket. “You know, I actually quite like your little matchmaking toy. It’s given me something to occupy my time with while I’m back in Payson, anyway. Or should I say ‘someone’?” He turns his cell screen toward me. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she?”

  It’s Lily. I haven’t seen her in eleven years, but I could never forget those sky-blue eyes and the distinctive pattern of her freckles. She hasn’t dyed her hair; it’s the same length. No makeup, paint on her skin. She’s older, but she’s barely changed.

  I feel an instinctive protectiveness rise up within me that turns into a vicious growl. “You stay the fuck away from her.”

  Vincent looks at Lily’s picture with a pleased smile. “Oh, come on now, Ethan, she’s hardly yours anymore, is she? You left her behind in Payson while you were making it big at Columbia. Just abandoned her in that dead-end town. I’ve been talking to her.”

  My throat closes. The thought of Vincent talking with Lily sickens me, fills me with rage.

  “Since you left her, not much has changed for poor Lily. She’s still an impoverished artist, barely getting by. Tell me, Ethan, do you think about how she’s doing when you’re sipping your champagne?”

  “There’s no way Destiny matched you with her. She’s too good for you.”

  “What are you talking about? We’re both from Payson, appreciators of art. We’re both cat people. Nature lovers.”

  I hate the word “lovers” from his mouth. He’s talking about my Lily. I have to grip the edges of my seat to stop myself from throwing a punch.

  “How did you do it? Did you have your team hack her profile? Did you override the system?”

  Vincent laughs. “Sorry, Ethan. No tricks—I guess I’m just the right man for her. Shame, isn’t it? I got the feeling at college that you really liked her.”

  Once, when Vincent and I were close, I’d told him all about Lily. I’d told him everything. Now he was using it against me.

  “Don’t touch her, Vincent. You’re crossing a line.”

  Vincent leans in toward me, and his voice is a low, angry hiss. “Am I, Ethan? Or was it you who crossed a line when you picked apart my company and sold it for scrap? You didn’t want my company. You didn’t need it.”

  “You’d have gone bankrupt if someone didn’t buy.”

  “You did it for revenge.”

  “You sold me out after Columbia.”

  “I made a strategic career move.”

  “You stabbed me in the back.”

  “Not yet, I haven’t. But, I will. First, I’m going to take your girl. Next I’m taking the defense contract. You’re going to be sorry you ever came after me.”

  “You’d go all the way to Payson just to get to her?”

  Vincent sits back, shrugs. “There’s a technology convention in Arizona next week. I thought, why not kill two birds with one stone? Mix a bit of business with pleasure.”

  “She’ll never go for you, Vincent.”

  “It’s been eleven years, Ethan. Ever think there’s the slightest chance she’s over you? I’m going to Payson, and your little girlfriend and I have a dinner date. Maybe I can give her what you never could.”

  Lily

  We’re in the expensive part of town, a neighborhood I’ve only ever passed through on the way to meet clients.

  “Look, I’m right here, okay? If he’s not who he says he is, you jump in, and we drive.”

  I glance across the street, where Chloe is parked in her Jeep, lying low like a spy—until, that is, she spots me looking for her and waves like a maniac. I grin and make a gesture for her to play it cool, my cell still pressed against my ear.

  “Please don’t leave unless I text you. I’m still expecting this guy to be a complete con-artist.”

  “I thought you said he passed the banana test.”

  I giggle. “How else was I supposed to figure out if he was scamming me?”

  “Only you, Lily.” I hear her gasp. “Oh my God—is that a limo pulling up? Jesus, Lily, I think it’s him!”

  “It can’t be.” Breathing through clenched teeth, I look over.

  A sleek, luxurious black car arrives outside the award-winning Italian restaurant where “Vincent” has arranged to meet me. Sure enough, I can see a tall, dark figure stepping out in an expensive tailored suit. He looks around, expecting me.

  My heart races when he turns to peer down the street. He glances at his watch, and his face is illuminated by the restaurant’s bright lights. As handsome as every photo I’ve ever seen him in, it’s unmistakably Vincent Oswald.

  “Shit, Chloe. I think I have to go.”

  “Vincent fucking Oswald is waiting for you. Of course, you have to go!”

  “Wait five more minutes for me just in case.”

  “Get in there!”

  I hang up and linger a moment on the sidewalk opposite the restaurant. Inside, the restaurant is filled with people dressed to the nines, and in my plain A-line dress with hand-sewn sequins, I feel like a mess. Suddenly, the innocent scuff on the toe of my left high-heeled shoe seems incredibly conspicuous. Running a comb through my hair before darting out the door doesn’t seem good enough. I’ve made a half-hearted effort.

  Although the banana experiment was enough to make me wonder, in truth, I still expected to meet a con artist when I showed up. Now that I see a handsome billionaire waiting for me outside the most expensive restaurant in town, I regret being quick to assume that the Vincent Oswald would never be on a dating app.

  There he is.

  I take a nervous step in his direction. I’m halfway across the street when he spots me, and he smiles in recognition.

  Up close, he’s even more attractive. From here, I can make out the definition of his strong jaw, the line of his straight nose, the playfulness dancing in his dark eyes.

  He’s standing casually, one hand in the left pocket of his pants. His suit is gray silk, and it fits him flawlessly. He’s not wearing a tie and has left the top two buttons of his pristine white shirt undone.

  Vincent seems perfectly at ease. He stands there, completely nonchalant, as though he doesn’t notice that everyone who enters the restaurant stares at him and whispers excitedly as they pass. One or two snap a hurried photo and grin like they’ve scored the jackpot.

  And he’s waiting for me.

  As I get closer, I almost consider walking right past him and down the street, but I know he recognizes me from Destiny. Has science really matched me with this wealthy Adonis? It seems to me like someone’s algorithm is off.

  “Hello.” When I greet him, my voice is a breathless whisper.

  “Lily Miller.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s nice to meet you at last. I wasn’t sure if I’d done quite enough to pass your stringent filtering process.”

  I remind myself to keep my mouth closed and take a deep breath to hold back
a nervous stammer. I feel like I’m in the presence of a god. “Sorry about that.”

  He smiles. He has a natural, endearing charm in his expression that makes him seem on the verge of mischief. In photographs, he always looks sharp and severe. It’s strange to see him grinning.

  Vincent extends an arm toward the restaurant door, inviting me to enter. “Shall we?”

  “Thank you.”

  I turn back over my shoulder to where Chloe is waiting and make a face like a deer in headlights. She gives me two thumbs up, and I hear her rev her engine, no message required before she leaves. It’s Vincent fucking Oswald. I’m sure that when I get a chance to check, my phone will be inundated with texts. Chloe will want to know everything.

  When I pass him, the smell of Vincent’s cologne clings to my senses, oaky and fragrant. I can tell it’s expensive, but it’s manly, and the scent makes my blood run faster. I wonder if maybe Destiny can read my desires in a way that I can’t.

  Vincent doesn’t even need to check in with the host. As soon as he enters, half the staff trip over themselves to make him welcome, ushering us to a private alcove at the back of the restaurant, where a candlelit table awaits in view of the grand piano.

  A fourth server appears, trying to get Vincent’s attention. “Sparkling and spring water, sir. It’s all right here.”

  After the server scurries back to the kitchen, Vincent catches my expression and laughs. “What can I say? I’m a good tipper.”

  “They’re dropping everything for you.”

  “This is my go-to restaurant whenever I’m in town. I don’t come very often, but my parents give them quite a bit of business.”

  “I think they’re more interested in you.”

  Vincent pulls out my chair for me. I fold into it, hoping I look graceful, thankful to hide my scuffed shoe. I rest my purse on my lap, gripping it tightly.

  “You look nervous.” Vincent unbuttons his jacket and slowly takes a seat. His eyes don’t leave my face. He sits back comfortably like he owns the place and casually stretches out one leg under the table, an arm thrown over the back of his chair.

  I swallow. “I wasn’t expecting it to really be you.”

  “I couldn’t resist Destiny. The concept was too enticing. One perfect match? I had to test that claim.”

  “And?”

  There is a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “I’m not disappointed.”

  “I’m sorry I’m underdressed. I don’t spend much time at restaurants like these.”

  “We can go somewhere else if you prefer.”

  I look around at a whole team of waiters and waitresses at attention, and all the excited guests, and I know we can’t walk out without causing a commotion.

  I shake my head. “No, it’s lovely here. Beautiful music.”

  “Clair de lune.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  He nods towards the pianist. “Debussy. That’s what he’s playing.”

  “Oh.”

  I don’t know what to say. Vincent is so sophisticated and refined, but I’m pretty sure I still have some dried paint in my hair.

  Vincent laughs. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you didn’t come here for a lesson in classical music. I have a habit of showing off like that, and coming off as the most pretentious jerk in the room.”

  I smile. “I don’t think you’re pretentious.”

  “At least that’s something, then. I thought I’d blown it already.”

  There’s a flutter in my chest. Imagine a billionaire like Vincent Oswald worrying about making a bad impression on someone like me. He could find a dozen Lily Millers anywhere he turned. But there aren’t that many Vincent Oswalds.

  “What brings you to Payson?” I ask him.

  “Business.” He chuckles. “It’s always business.”

  A waiter arrives. “Would you care to see the wine list, sir?”

  Vincent holds up his hand. “No need. We’ll take the 1953 Chateau Latour from my private selection.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  There’s a moment’s pause. I am left stunned by Vincent’s decisive and extravagant order. I don’t know much about wine, but I’m aware that 1953 is a hell of a vintage.

  I try to bring my mind back to the conversation we were having before the waiter arrived. Vincent was saying he was here on business.

  “I bet it’s a lot of pressure, doing what you do,” I say.

  “Not as much as you’d think.” His smile is self-assured. “And what about you, Lily? You’re an artist, aren’t you?”

  “Aspiring.” I reply while twisting my napkin between my fingers and darting another nervous glance at Vincent. “I mean, I have a few clients, but I guess you could say I’m still waiting for my big break.”

  “There’s no such thing, Lily. You make your own luck in this world. You don’t need to wait for some miracle to get you noticed—you have to go out there and take what’s yours.”

  “That’s what you did?”

  He straightens in his seat and rolls his empty wine glass in his palm, a confident smile playing on his lips. “Of course.”

  There is something powerful about this man; he exudes control. I’m enticed by his appeal, pulled in by his gravity. I wonder what it’s like to live in Vincent’s world.

  The wine arrives, already uncorked. Vincent pours the silky red Bordeaux into my glass, and then fills his own. I watch him swirl the liquid and inhale the bouquet before taking his first mouthful.

  I taste my own. It has a deep flavor, rich and warm, far more complex than anything I’ve had before. It slides down my throat and makes me heady after one sip.

  “You know,” he says, his eyes fixed on mine, “I was doubtful about Destiny, but it has certainly matched me with a very beautiful woman.”

  “I’m shocked you used it. Research, you said?”

  “I like to keep on top of what is happening in the industry. Destiny was making waves. You know, it was developed by another Paysonite. Maybe you’ve heard of him—Ethan Steele?”

  “Yes, I’ve heard of him.” I inject some uncertainty into my voice, as though it’s an effort to recall Ethan’s name, then quickly turn away and take another sip of wine.

  “It’s a small world, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” I clear my throat and catch Vincent’s eye.

  His gaze is magnetic; it holds me in its grip. His eyes are dark and intense, incredibly focused, like he’s got his mind set on something. It’s strange to see that darkness in those eyes when he’s looking at me.

  “What business are you in town for?”

  “Technology convention.”

  “Interesting.”

  He grins. “You don’t have to pretend. My work’s boring as hell. Forget it. I want to know more about you.” He leans in, folding his arms across the table.

  I’m at the center of his gaze. The restaurant slips away, and I’m held so tightly in his stare that nothing else remains.

  My body responds. My heart is fluttering like a frightened hummingbird beneath my ribs, and I can hear my blood rushing in my ears. Is this adrenaline, or desire?

  I can’t tell. Maybe it’s both.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  We stand outside the restaurant. The date has gone by in a blur like I’m coming to the end of a surreal dream.

  Vincent’s limousine is waiting. “I’m staying at the Penza Hotel,” he tells me. He glances at his watch. “It’s still early. Would you care for a drink at the bar with me?”

  I don’t know why I’m filled with panic, but I am. It’s all too much and too suspicious. I am underdressed and overwhelmed, and I still don’t know why Vincent Oswald has shown up here today. He could have any girl in the world, and he’s here with me.

  I can only reason that he does something like this in every town he stops in. Maybe he beds a woman on every business trip, knowing that no girl will ever say no.

  “I don’t think so,” I say
. “I don’t like to leave my cat alone too long.”

  He raises an eyebrow. He knows I’m making excuses, but he doesn’t press me. “I’d like to see you again.”

  “You would?”

  “Of course. I’ve had an enchanting evening.”

  Now I’m almost regretting not going to the hotel. Perhaps Vincent Oswald is more sincere than I give him credit for.

  I drink in his handsome, angular face, and strong, lean body, and breathe in the scent of his cologne. It’s too easy to imagine our bodies writhing together in some penthouse hotel room, twisting in silk sheets. My heart races at the thought.

  The fantasy is quickly followed by a harsh dose of reality. Vincent is here for business, and for all I know, he’ll be gone by Monday. What am I willing to give for one night with a billionaire? Rich man or not, I don’t want to be used.

  “You have my number. If you’re in town long enough, I’d love to meet again.”

  “Let me take you home.”

  “I think I’ll walk.”

  “Please, Lily, it’s late.”

  I smile. “I thought you said it was early.”

  “I mean, it’s dark. Come on, get in. I never let a lady walk home alone at night.”

  I agree and step toward the car. Vincent places his hand on the small of my back as I stoop to enter the limousine. It makes me shudder with excitement.

  The limousine’s interior is soft, buttery black leather. Vincent asks for my address and instructs the chauffeur to drive. The driver catches my eye in the mirror, smiles, and closes the shutter between us. I’m not sure I like the way he smirks.

  I lean into the door, away from Vincent, one leg crossed over the other.

  He slides across the leather so that he’s sitting close beside me. One arm is thrown over the back of the seat, his fingers casually brushing against my shoulder. It’s tempting to lean into him, let him rest his hand on my knee, lift my lips to his, and let everything else fade away. But the driver’s smirk is still in my mind.

  “When were you last in Payson?” I ask.

  Vincent closes his eyes, thinking. “A long time ago. Before college.”