The Dare

by Lauren Landish

  She balks, offended. “I don’t dare you to do illegal things. That’s rule three.”

  I shake my head. “Skinny dipping in a pond on private property, which required trespassing? Ring any bells? Or how about the time you dared me to dine and ditch? Wrong, girl . . . so wrong.”

  She smiles sadly. “I felt so bad about that one. Did I ever tell you that I went back and paid the waitress, even gave her a big tip as an apology for being stupid kids?”

  My mouth falls open. “One, we weren’t kids. We were nineteen and damn well knew better. Two, I went back and paid too, even gave her twenty bucks on our ten-dollar tab.”

  We meet eyes, both surprised that we didn’t know the other had gone back. And then we burst out laughing. “Guess that waitress didn’t mind the dine and dash so much after all. She made bank on us!” Tiffany manages to gasp out between laughs. “But still, we don’t do illegal stuff.”

  “Rule three is nothing too illegal. But yeah, as we get older, that’s a moving target. I’m not willing to risk jail time for a thrill.”

  “Me neither. But handcuffs? Those are a different story. One you’d best get to telling about Mr. Wolfe unless you want to have this conversation in the middle of Macy’s.”

  “Definitely not.”

  “All right then, spill. Is he feeding you the D?” She asks this as though she might be asking about the weather, like it’s no big deal to be fucking your boss.

  It is a big deal. A very big deal. And a very big D, too, but that’s beside the point. Mostly.

  But first, “What makes you think we’ve been intimate?”

  She giggles and feigns a fancy old-lady pearl-clutcher accent. “Been intimate? Oh, my heavens!” In her usual voice, she charges right on through me. “What’s got you so formal? It’s sex, Elle, not trade negotiations.”

  I shrug, and she continues the charge, full steam ahead.

  “Did he tell you we talked this morning?” At my head shake, she smirks. “Girl, your new boss came into work today with that look a man gets after one thing only, then he proceeded to actually smile, even when I threatened him. What magic did you work on him?”

  “Just a little somethin’-somethin’ I like to call moi.” It would sound self-aggrandizing if I weren’t so obviously being sarcastic as fuck. “Wait, you threatened him? Colton Wolfe—your boss, my boss, and the one who manages our boss? You threatened him? Have you lost your mind?”

  She plants her palm over her chest. “Do you think I don’t have your back, regardless of whose dick you’re getting? You could be screwing the president of the company, the mayor, or a mob boss who would kill me with zero hesitation, but I’m your girl. Ride or die, bitch. I’ve got you and am perfectly willing to threaten to chop damn near anyone to bits for you.”

  “You threatened to chop Colton to bits?” I say blankly, still in shock.

  She growls like a rabid raccoon when the trash man takes his stash away, her teeth flashing predatorially. “Well, I threatened to turn him into shark chum and spread him across the seven seas if you so much as shed a single tear.”

  I blink, her words hitting home. “That is so . . . so . . . sweet! Oh, honey! Thank you!”

  Okay, so I might be a bit hysterical, but I swear I’m going to tear up over how awesome my best friend is. And how creative and violent, but mostly how sweet.

  At the next stop light, I awkwardly reach across the console to grab her up in a big hug. “I love you too, girl.”

  Tiffany’s aw-shucks look does nothing to disguise the happiness in her eyes. “You’ve got me, babe, and I’ve got you. I know you’d do the same for me. Though I’d appreciate it if you didn’t threaten Daddy when I finally get in his pants, ’kay?”

  Ugh. All lovey-dovey friendship thoughts vaporize into thin air.

  “You are not getting in my dad’s pants, and eww. Just no.”

  My face is so screwed up in disgust that I’m probably going to need a wrinkle-reducer mask tonight, but Tiffany just smiles like she knows something I don’t know.

  Shit. “You haven’t, right? Wait . . . I don’t want to know.” I shake my head to stop the images from forming. I do not want to see that in any way, shape, form, or fashion. There’s not enough eye bleach to make it go away if it materializes. “Yes, I do. Tell me the truth, bitch.”

  “No, I haven’t been in Daddy’s pants.”

  I let free a relieved sigh.

  “Yet.”

  Damn it.

  “But speaking of Daddy, what’s his take on the whole Colton sitch? Did he go all growly possessive? ‘No daughter of mine . . .’ Or was he all disappointed dad? ‘Baby, you can’t . . .’ ” She goes in and out of mimicking my dad’s voice.

  “He’s furious, of course. He told me Colton was using me to get at him . . . as if that’s some great newsflash I was unaware of.” I roll my eyes, knowing Dad still sees me as his little girl sometimes. “I told him that it would all be fine, for him to work and me to work, and if we all do our best, the best proposal will win.”

  Tiffany thinks on that silently for a moment. “That’s true. Or at least it would be if it were just work, but there’s more going on and you know it.”

  “I know that.” I point at myself and then her. “And you know that, but my dad doesn’t need to know that. I’ve never told him about my sex life before, so why should this be any different?”

  Tiffany points at me sharply, our fingers crossing in between us like a sword fight of fingers. “A-ha, so you admit that Colton is your sex life? Gotcha!”

  I laugh. “I said we didn’t have sex. I didn’t say we didn’t do other things, otherwise how would I know that he doesn’t say ‘I’m arriving’ when he comes?”

  And at that stupid joke again, we both crack up.

  “Let’s get to the mall, girl. We have so much to do and so much to talk about still. Sorry, not sorry, Macy’s.”

  Tiffany pulls a piece of pink paper out of her purse. “I made a list of everything I need to replace the stuff Ace destroyed, plus I need a dress for the company dinner.”

  “The company dinner. Oh, God, that’s this weekend!” I slap my hand over my mouth, glad that Cammie is responsive enough to hold steady with one hand.

  “You did not forget.” At my look of horror, Tiffany’s eyes pop wide. “How could you forget?”

  Fire burns in my belly. “Well, I’ve had a lot on my plate, you know?”

  My brain’s dropping into warp speed now. Mr. Fox invites the entire company to his estate twice a year, once for a winter holiday party and the other for a spring celebration. It’s an opportunity to see and be seen, get to know people all over the company, and to have an elegant night at a fancy mansion.

  I didn’t grow up poor by any stretch. Dad always made plenty, and I never wanted for anything, but Mr. Fox is a different kind of wealthy, and to get to party at his house is a treat. Last year, he had an open bar of top shelf liquor, caviar appetizers, and a full spread of toiletries in the bathroom. I never knew that I would be so impressed with disposable toothbrushes in a guest bathroom, but damn, that did it for me. So much so that I added a few to a drawer at my place, though Tiffany has been the only one to use them so far.

  Maybe Colton will use one if he ever sleeps over?

  “Earth to Elle. Come in, Elle.” Tiffany is snapping in front of my face and the car behind me is honking. I blink, realizing the light is green.

  “Shit, sorry!” I wave, hoping the driver behind me sees the apology. “I totally forgot. This has the potential to be literal hell. I have this image of Dad holding one hand and Colton holding the other and them pulling me like a Gumby until I rip apart.”

  Tiffany is quiet for a minute, letting me pull into the mall parking lot and find a spot far away from other cars. It’s not that I can’t park in the regular spots, but Cammie is antisocial and wants her space. I don’t mind the extra steps to the door because then she stays door-ding free. And yes, my car has parking preferences, and no, I’m no
t crazy. Much.

  “Seriously, babe. Are you okay with everything? You said you have a lot on your plate, and that’s true, but is it too much? Are you caving under the pressure? Freaking out from the stress?” She’s talking fast, worried about me.

  “I’m . . .” I search my soul. “Remarkably okay. I mean, there is the whole Gumby thing because it is a lot. I don’t know how it’s all going to play out, either, but that’s never bothered me before. I thrive on chaos. You know that.”

  “Just be careful, Elle.” Tiffany is unusually serious.

  “I know your dad always has your best interests at heart, even if he’s overbearing about it sometimes. Colton’s still an unknown, though. I know he told you up front that he’s using you, but honestly, that makes me suspicious as hell. It’s like he’s a magician telling you to look right here, and meanwhile, his other hand is doing all sorts of shady shit, and not in the good slight of hand way. Just . . . be careful.”

  And now I’m gonna cry again because my bestie is the best in the whole wide world.

  “Thanks, Tiff. I will be. I know it’s only been a couple of days, but I feel like I’m getting to know Colton. He is trying to get at Dad, I know that, but I think this is more than that. For both of us.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her about his wanting some fun in his life and about our dares, but I don’t. That feels like it’s private, just mine and Colton’s.

  Instead, we head into the mall to tackle Tiffany’s pink list.

  “What all do you need?” I ask, already touching a soft cashmere sweater. The grey would look amazing on Tiffany, and I start looking for her size.

  “I did a fresh capsule wardrobe plan. Going to stick to basics black, white, and pale grey, with blush pink, burgundy, and teal accent pieces. I need skirts, jeans, tops, and probably a sweater so the A/C doesn’t turn me into a meatsicle. Plus, a versatile dress for the dinner.”

  If I didn’t follow Tiffany on Instagram and Pinterest, I wouldn’t have understood a word she just said. But I do, so I do understand.

  As chaotic as my closet is, Tiffany’s is equally neat and tidy, which is why Ace’s destruction was so hard on her. Tiffany could pack for two weeks in Europe in ten minutes, travel with only a carry-on suitcase, and look chic as hell the whole time. My closet? I could dress for a costume party, a cocktail party, the office, the gym, a date, and pull out the sweater I wore to the first day of tenth grade. I’ve got it all, and then some. And it’s all shoved in there with zero rhyme or reason. Why not have a hot dog costume next to my favorite band T-shirt? I never know when I’ll need either. And yes, I have worn that hot dog costume within the last year and not on Halloween. Long story, and of course, it was a dare.

  But shopping is something we do well, so we make good progress in a short time.

  “I dare you . . . to try this one on!” I hold up a pale pink dress with silver sequin flowers.

  Tiffany’s nose scrunches cutely. “For what? That is awful!”

  I wiggle the dress, and the sequins make a swishy sound against each other. “For the dinner. It’s even in your color palette.”

  “Not even if I was pre-partying and drunk on liquor I bought myself would I wear that to Mr. Fox’s fancy dinner. But because you dared me, I’ll try it on.”

  “And pose for pictures!”

  She rolls her eyes and repeats after me, “And pose for pictures.”

  The fitting room has a large, sectioned mirror showing Tiffany every angle of the dress. It really is atrocious, which only makes the pictures that much better as Tiffany reenacts every bridal moment of ‘it’s The One’ about the dress as though it’s fine couture.

  “You suck. My turn,” she says as she sorts her stack of clothes into nopes and yeses, leaving the nopes on the rack in the fitting room lobby.

  She surprises me, picking a navy-blue lace number that’s actually gorgeous. I expected her to find the ugliest dress she could get her hands on and then dare me to pose crazily, maybe even send pics to Colton. But as I shimmy into the sheath and Tiffany helps with the zipper, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

  “It’s beautiful,” I whisper.

  “I dare you to wear it to the dinner.”

  Tiffany’s whispering too, like neither of us wants to break the spell the dress has us under. It’s not even all that fancy, not a wedding gown or a red-carpet-worthy dress, but it fits me perfectly, highlighting my every curve while being modestly knee length. Though the last several inches of length are all lace.

  I shake my head. “I don’t need a dinner dress. You know I’ve already got things I can wear.” Even as I argue, I don’t stop admiring myself, turning slightly to see the back, which is daringly low-cut and also made reasonable with a lace overlay.

  “Uh-uh, I already dared you. You wouldn’t back out on that, would you? Chicken.”

  I press my lips together. This isn’t the usual wild and silly dares we do. This is Tiffany daring me to head into a corporate function looking like walking sex. Not in a slutty way, but in a classy, elegant way. I’ve never felt elegantly sexy before, but I do now.

  I want Colton to see me in this. I want him to see me schmooze and small talk all night with friends and coworkers and not be able to keep his eyes off me.

  And there are those old friends, anticipation and excitement, buzzing in my belly.

  I nod to Tiffany in the mirror. Dare accepted. She smiles back soft and sweet, as if she knows this is different too. Like maybe that’s why she dared me to do it.

  “Okay, now let’s find me a dress for the dinner. One that will make Daddy’s tongue loll out but won’t get me fired for looking like a stripper.”

  I growl and smack her ass, the pop loud in the empty fitting room. “For the millionth time, you are not fucking my dad, girl. But yeah, let’s find you a dress too.”

  Chapter 14

  Colton

  Last night was godawful. Alone and hard, I considered that Elle wouldn’t actually know if I took matters into my own hands. But I would know, and that would kill the fun of the game. So I refrained, no matter how hard it was . . . and I do mean my cock.

  Which is sore and already half-hard at the thought of seeing its tempting torturer upstairs at the office.

  I bolt for the elevator but remember to throw a chin lift to Miss Young. Her raised brow is sharp, as if she’s seeing into my soul and finding me lacking. I wonder if she truly is the devil that Elle touts her to be. I’m not saying I believe that, exactly, but I wouldn’t say I disbelieve it, either.

  The doors are just about to close when a hand shoots through, and they open once again to reveal Daniel Stryker, of all people. Coincidence or planned ambush?

  I don’t believe in coincidences that are this well-timed and fortuitous. He’s up to something, and only the next moments will tell what move he’s making now. I provoked him by hiring Elle, so it’s only polite manners to allow him the next play. And it will tell me where he’s at mentally, professionally, and personally.

  He steps inside, followed closely by his two hulking shadows who take up positions behind us. The space suddenly feels inordinately smaller. It’s not just the actual square footage we each take up but the fury radiating in waves off all four of us that fills the box.

  “Elle’s working for you.” Clipped and cold, he doesn’t ask but states the fact. He doesn’t even deign to look me in the eye, instead looking at my reflection in the polished wall of the lift.

  “Yes. I felt her talents would be better used here.” All business, I remind myself.

  A lesser man, one who was truly only using Elle to prod her father, would throw more barbed weapons. Perhaps about how his daughter’s pussy clamped on my tongue as she came crying out my name.

  I am not a lesser man, or at least I’m not now that I’ve had a taste not just of her pussy but of her mind and chaotically good spirit. And what Elle and I do privately is not for public consumption, least of all by her father. It’s ours, mine a
nd Elle’s alone.

  “I see. I felt the same way,” Daniel says, our eyes locked hard in a battle of wills in the reflection. “She never accepted my offer, though.”

  I turn to Daniel, giving him the full heat of my stare and the hard words he needs to hear. “She is an amazing woman.” A flinch of a tell ticks in his jaw. A small victory, but a considerable one, nevertheless. “I can respect that she wants to be known for her own work and mind, free of any familial benefits or charity. She’s not the innocent you believe her to be.”

  A pair of growls erupts from Billy and Ricky, and I risk a side-eye glance their way. But as I suspected, they’re leashed, which makes them not the threat. They act on Daniel’s behalf so it’s his reaction that matters.

  I explain myself as if I had only one meaning, not the double-entendre they heard, though I’m choosing my words carefully and purposefully. “She knew straight away that my requesting her reassignment to my office was a power play against you. She’s smart, even strategic, when given the chance to be.” The accusation is obvious and sharp.

  “I am using her against you, quite well, I might add.” My lips purse, but I’m unsuccessful at holding back the cocky smirk. “But I dare say, she’s using me too. To prove herself . . . to the company, to herself, and I’m sure even to you. She’s not just her daddy’s little girl any longer.”

  I do let every salacious thought into my tone for my last zing, knowing that Daniel’s fear is that I’ll corrupt his little girl. I won’t divulge that perhaps she’s the one perverting me, turning me from a cold, clinical corpse of a man to something warmer, and dare I say, more fun?

  My words make Daniel turn to face me fully. And I see the truth of who he is, not the driven, ambitious, office-perching executive, but rather the protective papa bear who will devour anything and anyone who threatens its young.

  It’s my last thought before he moves, quicker than I would’ve expected a man two decades older than me to be. He fists my lapels in his hands, pulling me nose to nose with him.