by Odette Stone
We were halfway home, both silent. Lost in our own thoughts.
I turned to him. “What did my dad say to you on the way out?”
Porter sighed and reached into his jacket pocket. “He wanted me to give you this.”
It was a ring box. With trembling fingers, I lifted the lid. Grandma’s engagement ring. “He gave you this?”
Porter’s expression was hard to read. “He said this ring had always been your dream ring.”
Oh no.
I stared down at the jaw-dropping, five-carat, perfectly round diamond set in a platinum band, encrusted with smaller diamonds. As a child, I’d always grabbed Granny’s hand to stare at it.
Even in the dim light of the car, the diamond caught the light and sparkled.
“What did you say?” My voice shook a bit.
“I told him I’d buy you my own damn ring, but he said this ring was part of your grandma’s will, and she wanted you to have it.”
I told him that I’d buy you my own damn ring.
I looked over at Porter. He was staring silently out the window, wearing a killer tux, looking like he had lived in this world his entire life.
“Are you upset?”
He gave me a wry smile. “Mildly affronted because I’d never let my fiancée wear a ring her father gave me.”
My fiancée.
I swallowed. “Sorry about that.”
“I guess it doesn’t matter, since this is a charade and everyone is going to expect a ring, and there’s no way I’d ever be able to afford a ring like that.”
It was easily worth six figures. When I was a girl, I had childish romantic dreams about this ring. I daydreamed about a handsome prince, sweeping me off my feet with a romantic proposal. Now I had the handsome prince, but he was only pretending to be mine, and there was no romantic proposal in sight.
It dawned on me that, in my haste to lie my way out of an uncomfortable situation, I was ruining future moments. If I ever had a real fiancé, would we still want to use this ring? If we did, would I think of Porter and this moment every time I glanced at my ring finger? The whole thing saddened me.
“I think I’m in over my head.”
Finally, a truth, but it didn’t make anything better.
Chapter 21
I stood, waiting for my Americano when I noted someone sitting at a table. Actually, it was the newspaper they were reading that I noticed.
There, on the front of the paper, was a photo of my parents, myself and Porter. We were on the stage from last night, and we were smiling. It was the headline that made my heart pound.
STIRLING HEIRESS SAYS, “YES!”
No, no, no! I grabbed my coffee and rushed to the corner store. I found four more major newspapers that announced my impending nuptials on the front page. I bought them all, and with my head bowed, headed back to my apartment.
I was dreading seeing Porter’s face. He’d already gone to the gym when I’d woken up, and I’d immediately dipped out for a coffee. There were hundreds of newspaper stands in my area. Oh, God. Had he seen the headlines?
This was bad. My lie was publicly announced to eight million strangers. How the hell was I going to tell Mom that this relationship was a sham? There was no way. At this point, the best I could do was plan a fake break-up. Right?
I almost ran into someone heading into my building. “Sorry.” My apologetic smile slipped almost instantly.
Felicia.
She stared at me with red eyes. Blotched red painted her cute nose, and she’d obviously been crying. Extensively.
“Felicia.”
“I need to talk to you.” Her voice was so much smaller than the last time I'd heard it.
“Of course.” I opened building door.
We rode the elevator in silence. I prayed that Porter was home because this was one conversation I didn’t want to have on my own. I unlocked my front door and ushered her in. We were alone.
She evaluated my apartment. Disbelief filled her features. “This is where you live?”
“How did you find me?”
“I called your dad’s campaign manager, Yates. His name was in the newspaper. He gave me your address.”
Fucking Yates.
“Okay,” I said slowly, shoving the newspapers on the island. “Would you like some tea?”
“No, what I want is for you to get the fuck away from my man.” She radiated with emotion, and despite the fact that she was makeup-free and had been crying, she was still one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen.
“I don’t really know what to say,” I said carefully.
“Porter is mine. He’s always been mine, and he always will be,” her voice hitched. “I don’t know how the fuck you got him to ask you to marry him, but this wedding isn’t going to happen.”
If only she knew.
The irony almost killed me. “I think this is a conversation that you should have with Porter.”
She crossed her arms over her full breasts. “How can I talk to him when he refuses to talk to me? He won’t answer my texts, and he won’t return my phone calls. I’ve left him dozens of messages.”
“I don’t know what to say about that.”
“You stole him.” She pierced me with her blue gaze. “I finally got him to New York. I finally got him to care enough to come after me, and suddenly, there you are. But you should know there’s no way you can compete with what he and I share. He loves me.”
I stared helplessly at her.
“He loves me,” she repeated with force.
I believed her. And it struck me that this engagement was not only wholly screwing up my life, but it was screwing up Porter’s future, too.
“Why did you leave him?” I asked, truly baffled. I felt angry at her, too, for hurting him. No matter how good he was at hiding his wounds, I could still see them. “You had everything with him, but you left. Why?”
“You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you?” She scoffed. “Porter doesn’t allow himself to be happy.”
I stood completely still. What did that mean?
She gave me a sad smile. “He hasn’t told you, has he?”
“Told me what?”
“He hasn’t forgiven himself. His entire life is about self-retribution. I stupidly thought that if he felt a loss big enough, then maybe he would feel enough in his heart to fight for us.”
“That’s why you left?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “He came for me. He found me, but you ruined everything. You can never make him happy, you know that?”
I knew that, but I couldn’t exactly tell her that.
“I want you to break off your engagement. If you have a sliver of love in your heart for him, you need to set him free,” her voice wavered. “He was close with me. He was so close to being happy with me.” She silently turned and walked out.
What a fucking mess. She loved him. That, I believed. He had come after her. And I had somehow gotten in between them. I had lit a fuse for a massive bomb that was set to blow up my life, but it hadn’t dawned on me that Porter’s life would be collateral damage. And according to her, he was already damaged, punishing himself for something that was none of my damn business.
I needed to make this right. And somehow, I needed to get Porter back on track. The guy had been nothing but good to me, but it wasn’t acceptable that his charity should cost him his future happiness.
I grabbed my purse. This engagement needed to end. No matter what. I would tell my parents the truth and let the chips fall. And then I would do my best to steer Porter back to Felicia.
Chapter 22
I rode the elevator down to the garage. When the door opened, there stood Porter. His hair was damp, and he wore a faded grey t-shirt that stretched across his fantastic chest.
We gazed at each other.
“Going somewhere?” His tone was relaxed.
“I’m going to fix this mess I got you into.” I stepped past him.
He grabbed
my arm gently. “What do you mean?”
“Felicia dropped by.”
Those gorgeous grey eyes widened. “Where is she?”
“She left.”
He winced and rubbed the side of his jaw. “What did she say?”
Was it true? Did he really not allow himself happiness? Why would she say that?
I needed to ask some hard questions, but I wasn’t sure I’d like the answers. “Why are you so agreeable about this fake relationship?”
He shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”
“What about you?”
Wariness seeped into his posture. “What about me?”
“Why did you come to New York?”
“What do you mean?”
“You came here to get back more than a few boxes, didn’t you?”
Something crossed his face, but he didn’t answer.
“Fine.” I took a step back. “If you want to screw up your life, that’s your business, but I’m not going to help you fuck up your happiness.” I stepped around him and walked past parked cars, the sound of my footsteps echoing off the cement walls. I reached my car and was about to open the door when a strong hand grabbed me and spun me around.
He was towering over me. “You’re not fucking up my happiness.” His voice was calm, but his intense expression penetrated.
“That’s not what Felicia told me.”
“I don’t know what she said, but I can make my own decisions.”
“She loves you.”
“She left me,” he practically yelled in my face.
We stood too close.
“This is such a colossal mess,” I yelled back, pushing against his hard chest.
He didn’t budge. “I know.”
My chest rose and fell with the weight of my emotion. “Our faces are plastered on the front of every newspaper. Announcing our fake engagement.”
“I know.”
“I’m freaking out. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that, when this entire thing blows up, I’m going to have to move out of the country and change my name, but I can’t be responsible for messing up your life, too.”
“My life was messed up long before you even met me.”
“It can be fixed. Felicia said she’s been calling you. She said you don’t call her back.”
“I can’t.” His voice was low, his gaze troubled.
“Why not?”
He struggled to find the right words. “I can’t deal with her right now.”
It was my turn to be bewildered. “You don’t want her back?”
He pushed his hands into his hair. “I don’t know what I want.”
I spoke slowly, “Is that why you’ve been so unbelievably agreeable about all of this? Because you wanted to prevent yourself from taking her back?”
Conflicted emotion flashed across his face. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
I don’t know why that one word hurt so much, but it did. There it was. He loved her, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t deal with her right now. I suspected I knew how he felt, but hearing it made me feel alone.
I tried to put my feelings into words. “My entire life I’ve been on the wrong side of everything. Yates was always taking my parents’ side. I know that you’re not real, but for a moment I actually thought you were on my side.”
“I am on your side.”
“No. You’re using this situation to deal, or not deal, with the woman you love. You’ve always had your own agenda.”
“I’m trying to help you. If it helped me, too, why is that an issue?”
Because at the end of this, he still had someone who loved him and wanted him back. At the end of this, I would need a witness protection plan to protect me from this disaster. Porter had felt like my partner-in-crime, but that, like everything else in this situation, was a delusion.
“Just once, I want someone to have my back,” my voice cracked. “I need one person in my corner. And I unfairly imposed that role on you. So I apologize. I’ll fix this. I promise.” I turned to unlocked my car door, but before I could open the door, two strong arms planted on either side of me, holding the door shut.
“What makes you think I’m not in your corner?” His lips were against my ear. His hot breath made me shiver.
I dropped my head as a wild tremor zipped up my spine. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?”
“This,” my voice cracked.
“Are you talking about the fake engagement?” His lips traced along the side of my neck. “Or are you talking about this?”
“What do you think?” I evaded the question, as my head arched to expose more skin.
“I think we both want the same thing.”
He wasn’t talking about our engagement, that much was clear. Oh, my. I knew what he was implying. God help me, but I wanted what he was offering.
“We do?”
His body moved against me, pushing me, so the cold glass and metal of my car pressed against me. “I think we do.”
A moan escaped me when his big hand wrapped around my throat. He was gentle, but the message was clear—he was in charge. It turned me on so much it made my knees fucking weak.
“What about our rule?”
“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”
I whimpered as hot lust rushed through my body.
And then that smooth voice growled low in my ear, “Are you going to tell anyone?”
My entire body trembled. This. This was precisely what I wanted. “No.”
“Are you sure?” His teeth grazed the skin of my neck.
I squirmed, loving how his huge body had me pinned. “Yes.”
He moved his hand from my throat to my hair, tugging my head back. I gasped into his mouth as it covered mine. It should have been an awkward kiss, but his mouth somehow managed to slant perfectly over mine.
My lips parted and his tongue dominated. My neck arched back further as I submitted to his kiss. Oh geez, his mouth. It was perfect. He tasted minty and smooth. Hot with so much lust, I moaned.
The shrill sound of my phone jarred my living fantasy. He lifted his head from mine, both of us breathing hard.
“You should answer your phone.”
“I don’t want to,” I whispered.
“If we break this rule,” his rough voice affirmed his desire, “everything will change.”
“It will?”
“It will. Is this something you want?”
Chapter 23
He stepped away from me. My whole body trembled as I clung to the side of my car. I listened to his footsteps retreat, and I wanted to yell after him that his hot body was exactly what I wanted, but I didn’t turn around.
Now what? I tried to think, but my brain was muddled with white-hot lust. I got into my car, even though I knew I wouldn’t be heading to my parents. I would willingly enter social exile if it meant I could have sex with that man.
I leaned my head against the steering wheel. That had been the most erotic, most intense sexual moment of my life to date. The desire I felt was so intense, it almost scared me.
Now what?
My phone pinged. Distracted, I pulled out the phone and replayed my message.
“Hey, Beth, this is Emily.” She was silent so long, I was sure she’d hung up. “So, I was reading the newspaper, and it says you and Porter are engaged? Um. Do you have time to call me?”
An hour later, I sat on a park bench, my phone pressed to my ear. I had spilled my guts to my best friend, excluding some of the more salacious details, and now, silence screamed down the line between us.
“Say something,” I urged Emily.
“Are you going to sleep with him?” she sounded both fascinated and scandalized at the same time.
“I don’t know.”
“I think you should,” she encouraged me.
“What? You’re supposed to be my voice of reason.”
“I’ve always thought Porter was super hot.”
“Emily.”
<
br /> She laughed. “It’s his stare. It reminds me of Jackson. He’s all intense and bossy.”
“Yes, that.”
And that kiss. The way his muscular body had pinned me. He’d been gentle but entirely in control. I’d felt safe, cared for and completely dominated. How was that even possible? Every time I recalled the feeling, my stomach felt shaky.
“What about Kirk?” she pressed.
“Who?”
“Kirk Browning. The love of your life?”
“Oh, you mean the father of my future children.”
“Kirk has been your measuring stick for all men. And now Porter makes you forget who Kirk Browning is? I think you like him,” she accused. “You like Porter.”
I dropped my face into my hands. Damn. Leave it to Emily to point out those uncomfortable feelings I worked to avoid. “He’s a friend.”
She snorted. “Did he use his tongue when he kissed you?”
That tongue. It had felt like magic when he’d kissed me.
“Yes.”
“Then, he’s not a friend. Do you think he wants to date you?”
“Definitely not. He’s using this situation to avoid Felicia, the woman his loves.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
Leave it to Emily to be the amusing yet unrealistic romantic.
“I’m pretty sure this situation doesn’t mean anything to him.”
“Would it just be sex?”
“Friends with benefits?” I tried.
She paused so long it made me question everything decision I had made in the last five years. “Are you okay with that?”
I could still feel his big hand around my neck while he held me against my car. I shuddered at the memory. “Maybe this is something we both need.”
The smile came through her voice. “I get that.”
“You don’t have to sound so smug.”
“You never know where these things lead.”
“Em, you need to brace yourself. This isn’t going to have some fairy tale ending. With my fake engagement being spread across all of New York, this reads more like a tragedy.”