by KB Winters
I logged into the computer, slid to the floor, and used the coffee table as my desk. Within minutes, I had plugged into Cooper’s cell phone and used his GPS to find his exact location. There was a blue dot on the move, so I waited and watched as it crossed the map, finally coming to a stop. I zoomed in, pulled up the address, and went to search. Seconds later, an image popped up showing a gigantic house up in the hills. I copied the address and went on a new search. It took some digging, but eventually I confirmed who the house belonged to:
Angela McKinnon
The name sounded vaguely familiar but I couldn’t figure out why. So, I searched the name and gasped when her picture came up. Angela McKinnon was a regular actress on one of the shows I used to watch. I scanned through her work history and there were a few other movies listed that I had seen that had her in them.
“What the fuck is he doing at her house?” I wondered out loud, getting up of the floor and going to the kitchen. I poured a glass of iced tea and started pacing the familiar route around my dining room table, my anger and frustration growing with each step.
“The obvious conclusion is that he either has dated or is dating her, and so tonight he was going to go out with me, probably sleep with me, but then ditched my ass when a better more suitable offer came along. Ugh!” I knew I looked like a crazy person, pacing and talking to myself, but Sam wouldn’t judge me, and for whatever reason, it was the only thing that I could do to think. “Okay, okay, let’s dial it back a notch. Maybe they are just friends? Hmmm…but then why would he cancel on me—ho he knows is a sure thing—to see a friend. Maybe she had an emergency? No, that doesn’t make sense.”
I paced and paced, wracking my brain for a plausible explanation that didn’t involve Cooper sleeping with this woman, but none of my ideas panned out and I was only getting angrier. He was fucking her…And me. Gross.
Eventually, I decided that the only thing to do to make myself feel better would be to go over there and check it out for myself.
The ride took about half an hour, but it felt good. The seat was still all torn up, but I had patched it up with some duct tape, which made it more or less rideable. I tried to ignore it as I rode through the city, my mind only focused on getting to Cooper and catching him in his lie. When I got to the house listed on the address, I parked across the street and dismounted from my bike. I kept my helmet on but flipped up the visor to get a better view, and sure enough, Cooper’s car was sitting in her driveway. I fought the urge to go and disconnect his spark plugs and leave him stranded like he had been the first day I met him. But I quickly dismissed the idea, not wanting to give him more of a reason to stay all night with his bougie-mama play toy.
I waited around outside for awhile, not really sure what I was waiting for, but I kept my eyes trained on the house, looking for any sign of movement. The longer I stood there, the more I felt uncomfortable, but I couldn’t figure out what to do next. I didn’t want to knock on the door, but I also didn’t want to stand here all night, waiting for him to leave.
My indecisiveness was driving me insane. There had been no movements, as far as I could tell, and standing in the street stewing over what was most likely happening inside the house was making things worse. I climbed back on my bike and rode back home. As soon as I stepped inside, I checked the little blue GPS dot and sighed. It was still at the house.
“Maybe he left his phone there,” I tried to rationalize to myself.
“Oh, Allie…get real,” I quickly scolded myself.
I sat on the couch and shut the laptop lid. Sitting around compulsively checking it wouldn’t do me any good. I did my best to distract myself for the rest of the day, but couldn’t fully resist the urge to periodically check Cooper’s status. Late that night, as I was falling asleep on the couch, I checked one last time and felt a final twist of despair to see the signal was still there.
Chapter Twelve
I woke up to the muffled chirping of my phone. I dug it out of the couch cushions and saw at least half a dozen text messages that all came in at one time. I stared at the screen, trying to process everything, my eyes squinting against the brightness. All of the messages were from Cooper.
“I’m taking you out to dinner tonight.”
“Dress nice…like you did for the Plush party.”
“I want you to make me hard, just seeing you.”
“Seven o’clock.”
“Don’t make me wait.”
“What the—? Ugh!” I threw the phone back onto the couch and shut my eyes. My body was rebelling, coming alive just reading his words, imagining him whispering into my ear, telling me what to do. But my heart was screaming “No!”
I forced myself to play the scenario all the way through. Would we have mind-blowing sex? Probably. Would he drive me to the absolute brink and satisfy me like never before. Yes. But then what? He’d find some lame-ass excuse to leave me alone, again, and make me feel like some disposable whore.
I refused to let myself get sucked back into his game.
I snatched the phone back up again and furiously typed at the screen.
“I am NOT going to dinner with you. I just want my money from the club the other night.”
I hit send.
My phone chirped again, not two seconds later.
“You’re going to dinner. Seven o’clock.”
“Cooper — I don’t want to have anything to do with you. All you do is mess with my heart and make me feel like an idiot.”
I backspaced the message…it was a little too raw.
“No — not going. Please send me the cash. I need it to fix my bike.”
He didn’t answer.
I waited another ten minutes, no answer.
I rolled over on the couch and screamed into a pillow, releasing all the pent-up rage that had been building inside of me from the moment I met Cooper Brighton.
Finally exhausted, I heaved myself up off the couch and went to make myself a cup of coffee. I did my best to pretend everything was fine. Everything was normal. But panic was starting to seep in. I knew Cooper well enough to know that he’d show up at my door, promptly at seven o’clock and that he was more than capable of dragging me out, kicking and screaming if needed.
If I was going to be forced to go out to dinner with him, then the only thing I could do to get a sliver of revenge would be to look as hot as fucking possible, and then not let him have me, no matter how hard he begged. He had to learn that there were some things he couldn’t have, no matter how much money or charm he had.
I finished making my coffee and went back to the couch to drink my first cup. My laptop was still open from the night before, and I noticed the little blue dot on the screen. I was still tapped into Cooper’s phone. Currently, he was back at Brighton Enterprises. I vaguely wondered what his bitchy receptionist had told him about me—if she had mentioned me at all.
Sam came and jumped into my lap as I was about to click out of the tracking software.
I stroked his head with my free hand as I sipped on my mug of steaming hot coffee. If my rent was paid for a year, the amount of money I needed each month just to survive was reduced greatly. I wondered if my old boss at the coffee shop would have a part time spot available. I hadn’t left on bad terms and I knew how to make great coffee. Between that and the tip money, it might be enough to scrape by, and a whole lot better than shaking my bare ass to a roomful of classless horny men.
“We’re going to be okay, Sam. I’ll go back to the cafe and get some hours, get Cherry Bomb fixed, and we’ll be fine.”
Sam didn’t care much, but sometimes it helped to talk to him and sort things out. He snuggled into my lap and I felt more relaxed than I had in days, knowing there was a light at the end of the tunnel I had been hurtling through.
“I did it, Sam! I start next week!” I announced as soon as I stepped back into the apartment later that afternoon. He came scampering at the sound of his name, probably thinking he was about to get fed a treat. I squatted do
wn next to him and scratched his ears.
I had gone down to the cafe I used to work at—before meeting Bryce, before the Spotlight disaster, before Cooper—and the owner had given me my old job. It was only twenty-two hours a week, but it would be enough, for now.
I glanced up at the clock in the kitchen and knew it was time to get dressed. It would feel even better to tell Cooper off, in person, dressed to kill, and tell him I got a new job—without his help—and that he could leave me alone. For good.
My mind made up, I went to my room and started to scour my closet for something to wear. Something…fuckable. Figuring out what to wear to go on a date with a billionaire is probably not a problem a lot of people have to deal with, but regardless, it was turning into a real problem as I thrashed around in my closet, rejecting everything I pulled out, and tossing it onto the bed. I only stopped my rampage long enough to rescue Sam, who had gotten lost under the mountain of clothes that was rapidly piling up, and started yowling for help in his escape. I pulled him out and carried him around the room with me. My hair was up in hot rollers to help transform my natural wave into something a little fancier for the occasion.
Staring at the pile of clothes, I was starting to have flashbacks to getting ready for the Plush launch party a few weeks back. I had been faced with the same dilemma but luckily, Hannah had been able to help me out. I had texted her, but still hadn’t heard back. I figured she was with Jett. The two of them had seemed to really hit it off and I hadn’t heard much from her since they met. I briefly considered wearing the dress I had worn to the launch party, but decided against it since Cooper had already seen it and I didn’t want him to think I only owned one formal dress.
Although, it was kind of true. I had two other cocktail dresses but they were from when I had been bartending at the strip club. They were really, really short and would not be appropriate for a nice restaurant. So, as much as Cooper would appreciate my slinky dresses, I didn’t think looking like a hooker was the best plan.
I decided I was too close to the situation and left the room to go do my make-up. I had one cat eye perfected when the idea hit me. I dug through the pile and found my skintight red dress. I wiggled into it and laughed at my reflection in the mirror when I turned around to see that it was so short, my ass was two centimeters away from being on display. I couldn’t remember the last time I had actually worn this dress out in public, but I cringed knowing that at one point in time, it had been worn outside of my house. I went back through the pile and found my black skirt and pulled it on. It was several inches longer than the hem of the red dress and even though it was layered, it looked almost like it could be one whole dress.
“Huzzah!” I shouted, taking a final twirl in the mirror. My sleeve of tattoos was showing, but I planned to wear a shrug and even if I took it off, I knew Cooper didn’t mind. He flashed through my mind and I felt myself starting to get aroused at the memory of the last time he had taken off my jacket and ran his fingers over my inked-up skin.
“Easy girl, you have to get through dinner first without having to change your panties,” I reminded myself, going back to the bathroom to finish my make-up. I smiled to myself in the mirror, thinking of the undergarments I had carefully chosen to wear. That had been the easy part—a sheer, lacy bra with matching panties and garter belt, since I remembered that had driven Cooper absolutely crazy. I shivered at the memory of watching his head between my legs, still in black thigh high stockings, spread for him as I balanced on the edge of his desk, rocking back and forth with each lick of pleasure.
Fuck…at this rate, I was going to have to change panties before even leaving the house!
I was still resolved to keeping Cooper to a look, don’t touch, policy, but looking sexy as hell was going to make it even more fun for me as I got to watch him lose his mind when I turn him down.
I took a deep breath and resumed my make-up application, mentally zapping at the new thoughts of Cooper that tried to take over my mind.
My make-up was done, my hair was released from the hot rollers and fell in soft waves around my shoulders, and I was killing it in my new dress creation. I turned and admired myself in the mirror. My Spanx were doing their job, and then some, to keep everything high and tight. My waist was cinched in and accentuated my hourglass figure. The sky-high stiletto heels made my legs look longer and leaner. I couldn’t help but laugh, imagining the look on Cooper’s face when he saw me come down the stairs.
I wanted him to suffer.
“To blue balls,” I toasted myself, hoisting up my pre-date glass of wine to my reflection.
I barely had time to take a sip off the top when the doorbell rang.
“It’s showtime!”
Chapter Thirteen
“Hello, Cooper,” I said, my voice low as I open the door.
His eyes raked down my body and I could see that he was stunned—and horny—just looking at me.
“Is this…what were your words…nice, enough?” I asked him.
“You look beyond gorgeous,” he replied. His eyes were dark and I found myself being pulled into them, momentarily hypnotized by the desire and lust hidden there.
I sternly reminded myself of my plan and snapped out of my fantasies.
“Shall we go?” he asked. He offered me his arm, like a true gentleman, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind. He had to know how pissed I was at him, how much I did not want to be here. This “date” was more like a hostage situation. He wouldn’t let me say no.
I placed my hand on his arm and let him lead me down the stairs. I was actually a little grateful, since the steps were steep and my heels were so pencil thin. It took all my mental energy to keep from pitching forward and falling on my ass.
He led me around the corner of my building and I saw a sleek, black limo parked along the curb. I had been expecting his car—he didn’t seem the type to be chauffeured around town. He had always been the one driving anytime I’d been with him.
“I have a little surprise for you,” he growled into my ear.
My eyes darted to his and noted the sparkling gleam in them. He was up to something and I was fairly certain I was going to like it.
That was the problem.
His driver had come around at the sight of us and he rushed forward to open the door. Cooper held my hand as I lowered into the car, careful to keep my skirt down and avoid showing too much. Once I was inside, he released me and climbed in after me. The driver shut the door and it was dead silent for a moment. I could have sworn I heard my own heart beating frantically inside my chest. The nearness of Cooper was overwhelming—his eyes on me, his hand on my skin, and his intoxicating smell surrounding me.
I scooted along the bench seat, slowly trying to inch away to the other side of the car without him noticing. He placed a hand on my bare thigh and stopped my progress.
“Where are you going, Allison?” he purred.
His hand on my leg was sending my senses into overdrive and clouding my mind.
“No—” I stopped, sucking in a sharp breath as his hand slid higher, nearly to the hem of my skirt. “Nowhere.” I answered.
“Good.” His hand left me just long enough to reach down and produce an opened bottle of champagne. He poured a generous amount into a delicate-looking flute and handed it to me. I gingerly accepted it, his fingers brushing across mine in the exchange. He poured himself an identical amount.
“To tonight,” he said, lifting his glass up.
“I’m not sure it will be a toast-worthy night,” I added. I clinked my glass against his and was about to drink, but he stopped me, his fingers enclosing my wrist.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his face shifted and a flicker of anger shot through his dark eyes.
I rolled my eyes, preparing myself for his theatrics. “I know what you think is going to happen tonight. It’s not. I just thought you should know.”
I pulled my wrist away from his grasp and took a sip of the zingy bubbles
that had accumulated in the top of my glass. To further add to his frustration, I licked my lips slowly.
His eyes were trained on me, not missing a fraction of a second.
“Allison, why must you make things so difficult?”
I laughed. “I make things difficult? You cannot be serious.”
His eyes told me that he was.
“Cooper, all you do is use me. Over and over. And yes, I know, none of it was forced upon me. I was a willing participant. But it stops now. I’m tired of feeling like yesterday’s trash every time we do this!”
“This?” He cocked an eyebrow at me, as if he didn’t understand my insinuation.
“Yes, this. Hook up, fuck, whatever you want to call it. It’s demeaning and I’m done with it. I don’t care how good-looking you are or how much money you have, it’s not worth it.”
I finished my tirade and sucked back the glass of champagne, taking it down like a shot. I desperately needed the alcohol to hit my system so my insides would stop freaking, the fuck, out.
Cooper stared at me, his face unchanging. A shiver of fear went slinking down my spine.
“Is that all you think this is? Hooking up? Fucking?” he finally asked.
Something about the tone of his voice suddenly had me spinning, questioning myself.
“Yes?” I said—my voice unsteady as I reconsidered my argument.
“It isn’t. Not for me.”
Fuck.
Me.
My heart raced even faster as the sudden rush of alcohol hit my system and made my mind fuzzy. I looked at my glass, momentarily wondering if I had been drugged, but then realized I hadn’t eaten anything all day and the pre-date glass of wine coupled with the champagne was wrecking me.