An Improper Ever After

by Nadia Lee

  I stare at her blankly.

  “You’re the prize, as far as Elliot is concerned. That’s why he’s going to hit back.”

  “But he can be hurt,” I whisper. “I met Stanton Underhill.”

  “You did?”

  “On our honeymoon. He and his wife were at the same resort.”

  “What a coincidence,” she murmurs. “What happened?”

  “Nothing really, but he didn’t strike me as the type to sit back and let somebody take a swing at him without retaliating.”

  “He isn’t, but…” Elizabeth turns to face me. “You have to trust Elliot. He knows what he’s doing.”

  “I do. Still…I don’t want him making enemies because of me.”

  “He isn’t. He was never close to Stanton. And from what I understand, Annabelle Underhill has plenty of dirt. She really shouldn’t have threatened you that way.”

  Elizabeth’s words don’t really reassure me. I don’t think Stanton will lose his temper and gun Elliot down or anything. But then, I always thought Mr. Smith was pretty even-tempered, too…

  We leave the bathroom together. I do my best to push aside the apprehension nipping at my mind, but it’s nearly impossible. The conflict brewing between us and the Underhills seems so daunting. Certainly the stakes are high—because despite what Elizabeth believes, Elliot is the real prize.

  Annabelle Underhill is fighting because she wants him. And I’m fighting because I want to keep him.

  Returning to our table fails to improve my mood. Nonny is texting someone, teeth digging into her lower lip. Elliot is frowning at her—probably disapproving of the boy she’s texting—and Traci…

  She’s watching him very intently.

  It’s a good thing that I know her so well. Otherwise I might think she’s interested in Elliot. But there’s no sexual speculation in her brooding gaze. I’ve seen that look before—when we were about to start a hockey match. She would study the players on the other team, assessing their strengths and weaknesses. I suspect she’s heard some less-than-flattering things about Elliot from Dennis and wants to judge for herself. Maybe I should talk to her privately when there’s a chance.

  Elliot turns his head as though he feels her stare, his eyes as sharp as a brand-new razor, and she immediately looks away and reaches for her wine. He then spots me and Elizabeth, and his gaze warms. “The dessert menu came,” he says.

  “Ugh. No thanks,” Elizabeth says. “I’m stuffed.”

  “Same here.” I look at Traci and Nonny. “Unless you guys want some?”

  Say no. The thought pops into my head. It’s an uncharitable wish, but I can’t help myself. For some reason I don’t want Elliot and Traci in the same room anymore.

  “I’m full, too,” Traci says.

  Nonny shakes her head. “I’m good.”

  Elliot takes care of the bill and Traci and I hug goodbye. Traci says, “There’s gonna be a happy hour on Friday after work to welcome you properly to the company.” She shoots a quick glance in Elliot’s direction. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not,” he says with a lazy grin, although everything else about him remains as alert as a predator eyeing prey.

  I cant my head, but Traci merely flashes me a smile that tells me nothing.

  After Nonny slips into her room and Elliot and I are in the privacy of ours, I say, “What was that about?”

  “What?”

  He unbuttons his shirt with deft movements of his fingers. The more inches of his beautifully sculpted torso are bared, the more I find I can’t tear my gaze away from his body. My nipples tighten as though recalling how the hair on his chest feels against them.

  “Belle?” he prompts, pulling off his shirt. A small smirk tells me he knows.

  I shake myself. “You and Traci,” I say, remembering what’s been bugging me. “What happened while Elizabeth and I went to the bathroom?”

  “Nothing.” He tosses the garment into a laundry basket for the housekeeper to do later.

  “You guys didn’t have a ‘nothing happened’ vibe when I came back.”

  He toes off his shoes and yanks his socks off. “She asked me how I knew Gavin, and I told her. That’s it.” He straightens and faces me. “Ask Nonny, if you like.”

  I shake my head. “I trust you. It’s just…” Eyes closed, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s probably nothing.” I’m overthinking this. Elliot has no reason to not like Traci anymore. Well, he thought she was a shitty friend back then, but he knows things are different now. If she were still a shitty friend, she wouldn’t have helped me. And Traci…

  She was probably just making conversation, although I worry about her infatuation with Gavin. She’s a smart girl, but she sometimes has a bad habit of mooning over guys who are taken. I don’t think she’d cross the line, but I don’t want her hurt because her coworkers find out or anything like that. She deserves to be happy with her life.

  Elliot wraps his arms around me, pressing his bare chest against mine. “Now that it’s just two of us, we should get to the real celebration.”

  “What are you in the mood for?”

  “Oh, I don’t know…five or six servings of you?” He nuzzles my neck, his breath hot and humid against my skin.

  Heat pools between my legs, and I dig my fingers into his hair. “That sounds like a fabulous idea.”

  As I let him carry me to bed, I can’t help but feel that I’m missing something. But when he bends down and slants his mouth over mine, I can no longer imagine why it should matter.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Annabelle

  I can’t believe it—I’m actually looking forward to going to work! And doubly so because I have fashionable clothes to wear—although I make sure not to put on anything ostentatious—and then when I’m done, I’ll have a hot husband to come home to.

  Life is good.

  The first day is going to be spent mostly on orientation and filling out paperwork. I run into Gavin on my way in, who nods at me with a warm smile and walks into an elevator trailed by an impeccably dressed tall and curvy redhead.

  When I reach my cubicle, I see a huge bouquet of brilliant red roses. The sight of them and the heady scent bring a smile to my lips. I don’t have to read the card to know who they came from.

  Enjoy your first day.

  –E

  I bring the scripted card to my face to hide my widening grin.

  “Who’s that from?” the assistant in the next cubicle, Jean Bennet, asks with a smile.

  “My husband.”

  “Ooh. Lucky you.”

  I flush. And that night I show him how much I appreciate the flowers, which made me the envy of every woman on the floor.

  “I’m going to send you a bouquet every day if this is what I get,” Elliot says when he can breathe again.

  I giggle. “You’re so bad.”

  “I simply want to remind you of your despondent husband, waiting with forlorn yet loyal patience for you to come home…”

  Eliot’s melodramatic delivery—contrasted with the lascivious look on his face—makes me laugh. I kiss him on the mouth. “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘lecherous,’ not ‘despondent.’”

  “I can’t help it that you’re hot…and you make me hot.” He pulls me down for a deeper kiss before seducing me silly, as though he hasn’t just come hard enough to break a window pane.

  The second day, Elliot sends me a bouquet of huge pink orchids. I flush with pleasure, but don’t get much time to admire the stunning blossoms. Jana is waiting for me in her office.

  She’s a fair boss. She doesn’t look at me like I’m anything special and speaks to me in a cool, no-nonsense tone that conveys both confidence and discretion. I love her for it because I need normalcy, and I don’t want my new coworkers to treat me differently just because I have an account with the firm.

  Despite her brisk manners, she’s also patient. She shows me exactly how she wants her filing done and how I should write m
essages on her behalf when required. I learn that it’s a waste of time to include greetings and other niceties in business communication.

  “The main point only. Nobody has time to read ‘how are you’ or ‘hope you’re having a good day.’ That’s what company socials are for.”

  The previous admin has been gone for over a week now, so I spend my day organizing Jana’s schedule and making sure she has coffee—black, no sugar—every two hours on the dot. Apparently a regular dose of caffeine is vital.

  “I heard about the happy hour,” Jana says at a quarter till four on Friday. “You can go now, but I’m afraid I can’t join you. I have a prior engagement. But we’ll do lunch on Monday. Keep the calendar clear.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Just call me Jana,” she says with a slight smile. “I’m not that old.”

  I take my purse and go to a bar two blocks from the office. It’s a swanky place with gleaming wood and lots of expensive-looking liquor displayed on the shelves. The place smells faintly of leather and oak and the remnants of hundreds of opened bottles of wine.

  Traci is already seated at the counter. As usual, she’s in an almost-too-racy-for-the-office outfit. I start to wonder how many V-neck tops and pushup bras she owns.

  “You’re early,” I say.

  “You’re right on time. I’m so glad Jana let you go. She has a reputation. Total workaholic.”

  “She is kind of intense. But I like her. Seems very nice.”

  Traci grins. “Only you would say that.” She raises a forefinger to flag one of the bartenders. “What are you in the mood for?”

  I hesitate. She’s expecting me to drink because I never told her about what happened at the party and did my best to pretend everything was fine. I was too ashamed to tell anyone, even Traci. When we were at parties, I’d nurse a Coke or OJ while pretending that it was spiked with rum or vodka, because you couldn’t not drink at those events in Lincoln City and still be considered cool. Now I can’t decide if I should come clean and tell her I never touch alcohol or get a glass of wine and pretend to nurse it until it’s time to go home.

  Before she can catch a bartender’s attention, she drops her hand and digs through her purse. She takes out her phone and scowls at the screen.

  “What is it?”

  “A text from Hilary. Apparently she can’t come because of an unexpected market movement. Something about the Chinese dumping US treasuries or something… Anyway, she told me I don’t need to go back, but to have fun.” Her shoulders slump. “Damn it.”

  “Maybe the others can join us…?”

  She shakes her head. “If Hilary can’t come, it’s because Gavin isn’t leaving. And that means nobody’s leaving now.”

  “Oh. That’s…too bad.”

  “Yeah.” She sighs. “The Chinese just had to pick today!”

  I laugh. “You make it sound like they did it on purpose.”

  “Feels that way.”

  “Listen, why don’t we…”

  I trail off as I look through the window and spot a nondescript gray sedan parked on the other side of the road. A man’s inside, his big hands fooling with a camera with a big lens. An uneasy knot forms in my chest, but I shake myself. Probably somebody famous is around here… There’s no reason for the paparazzi to follow me, since my stripper past isn’t the hottest news item for the bored and nosy anymore.

  “Let’s go to my apartment and have ice cream and cocktails,” Traci says. “I have some good stuff.”

  “Um…” I’m about to say no, but she’s looking at me with a huge grin. Elliot isn’t expecting me until at least eight anyway, so why not spend a little time with Traci before heading home? “Sure. Ice cream sounds great.”

  “Awesome!” She loops her arm around mine. “Let’s get going.”

  * * *

  Annabelle

  Traci’s “apartment” is about half an hour from the office. As I climb out of my Mercedes, I can’t help but gape. “How did you snag this place? The location’s perfect, and just look at that!” I gesture at the soaring, glitzy building.

  “I know, right?” She grins. “I totally lucked out. My roommate is rich, and paying for most of it. She said she wanted somebody to share the space because she hates it when it’s too quiet at home.”

  How awesome. I’m genuinely happy my friend got such a sweet setup.

  The place is fairly new. Two sides of the building gleam, and I realize they are actually floor-to-ceiling windows. The lobby is immaculate marble, chrome and glass with a fully staffed concierge desk. Soothing classical music plays inside a golden elevator.

  Traci’s place is on the top floor. It’s actually a penthouse unit, albeit smaller than the one Elliot and I share. But the open layout makes the place look much bigger and airier than it really is, and there is a fantastic view of downtown L.A. The hardwood floor has been freshly waxed, and a plush rug is custom-cut to lie around a beige sectional couch. The walls are off-white and covered with contemporary paintings.

  Traci gestures at a room at the end of the hall. “That’s my roommate’s, so don’t go in. She’s a little weird about it.”

  “Is she going to be okay with me coming here like this?” My old roommate Caroline hated it when Nonny brought someone over.

  “Don’t worry. She’s out of town this week.”

  I relax and take a seat on the couch, placing my purse on the floor. Traci brings out two miniature cartons of caramel-and-fudge ice cream. “Ta da,” she says. “Anything to drink?”

  “Maybe just iced tea or juice? I need to drive home, and I’m a lightweight.”

  “You can’t be that bad. You went to a party school.”

  I cringe. “I got a big, fat F in Party 101.”

  “Very funny. I can’t imagine you getting an F in anything. You were one of the smartest kids in high school.” Still, she hands me a glass of sweetened iced tea and pours herself some white wine. She plops down on the sectional and kicks off her shoes.

  I take a few sips of the tea, which is a little too sweet. The ice cream is extra rich, and it’s difficult for me to eat much of it. Traci, on the other hand, doesn’t seem bothered. She digs into hers with gusto.

  We chat. She tells me all about her plans, places she wants to go and things she wants to do. “I’m not going to be an assistant forever, you know.”

  “You won’t. You’re too smart to not be in charge one day.”

  “Exactly. And if that doesn’t work, I can always get myself a sugar daddy.”

  My jaw drops. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Why do you think I work at OWM? It’s got tons of guys who are making amazing money. And a lot of them aren’t that old.”

  “But…” I blink as my mind struggles to reconcile what she just told me and what I know about her crush on Gavin, who happens to be very happily married. “Uh… Any special candidate?”

  “Nah. Just enjoying myself for now, but I’ll have to decide on someone pretty soon. No rich man wants an old wife.” She laughs and drains her glass. “You’re lucky you managed to snag a guy like Elliot. Hey, does he have any bachelor brothers?”

  “Yes.” His oldest half-brother and twin are single, unless I’m misremembering.

  My head is starting to feel a bit fuzzy. Maybe I’m more tired than I thought from working…although my tasks were easier than what I used to do as a server and a cleaning lady.

  “You should introduce me, then. We can double-date.” She giggles, then pours another glass of wine.

  I take a few more sips of tea to wash away the sticky richness from the ice cream cloying in my mouth. Multiple throbbing knots start to form behind my eyes.

  Traci peers at me. “Are you okay?”

  “Just a little headache,” I say. “Nothing serious.”

  “You want to lie down?”

  Traci’s voice is soothing. It sounds like a great idea. “Sure.” I bring my feet up and lie on my side. The pain seems to lessen. “Ahhhh.”

&nbs
p; “You have to take care of yourself, Annabelle. Jana hates it when people miss work.”

  I give her a wan smile. “Okay, Mommy.”

  “You want me to text Elliot? Let him know you might not be able to come home? It’s cool if you want to crash here tonight.”

  Hmm. That does sound pretty smart. Traci’s roommate isn’t home anyway. And driving when I feel this awful is probably a bad idea. “Okay.”

  “Let me text him, then.” She reaches into my purse and gets my phone out. “What’s your passcode?”

  I tell her.

  “Your birthday? Good god. You can do better than that.” She enters the numbers and quickly types something. My phone buzzes about ten seconds later, but she puts it back in my purse. “How did you and Elliot meet?”

  My head is swimming, and I don’t know why Traci is asking me. I could’ve sworn I told her. Or did I…?

  All I know is I can’t tell her everything. I trust her and she’s my good friend, but it isn’t just about me. “Uh. Work.” There. That’s close enough.

  “I didn’t know you worked for Elliot.”

  “No. Something else.”

  “Why is he having Gavin look into Dennis again?”

  “What?” My brain feels like somebody’s dunked it into a vat of syrup.

  “If they look too closely, they’re going to find out about your past too.”

  “They already know.” I push my thumbs against the ends of my eyebrows. “Dennis lied…”

  Traci gasps. “About what?”

  I close my eyes. I don’t want to talk. I want to… I just want to rest for a while.

  “What did Dennis lie about, Annabelle?”

  “Something. Complicated.”

  “Annabelle? Are you all right?” Traci’s cool hand rests on my forehead. “Can you open your eyes and talk to me?”

  “Mmmm…” I mutter something, although I have no idea what I’m saying. Traci’s frantic calling of my name is the last thing I hear before everything turns black.

  * * *

  Elliot

  Not feeling too good. I’m spending the night at Traci’s.

  I stare at the text. I already replied, I’ll pick you up. Send me the address, but my wife hasn’t answered.