Revenge Games (Revenge Games Duet Book 1)

by Sky Corgan

  I settled for my best pair of black jeans, a gray tank top, and a blue sweater. That was about as business casual as I could piece together. As long as it got me through the restaurant door, that was all that mattered. I pulled my hair up into a high pony tail, dabbed on a bit of concealer to hide my raccoon eyes, and jumped out into the circular opening in the sitting area.

  “Ta-da!” I said, holding my arms out like a spectacle, drawing Dominick's attention away from his ereader. “How do I look?”

  He didn't seem impressed, though he nodded approvingly. “That will do.”

  “Good, because it's all I've got.” I flopped down onto the sofa beside him and cuddled up against his side.

  Now that the sex was over, he didn't seem the least bit interested in me. We simply sat there in silence, waiting for time to pass until we went downstairs to the limo.

  “Do you have any pointers for me?” I asked him when we were in the elevator.

  “What do you mean?”

  “About how to act around these people. I assume they're important.”

  “They are important, but you have nothing to worry about. As I said before, this isn't a business meeting. It's entirely casual, so just try to be yourself and have fun.”

  “That's easy for you to say. I'm not used to meeting people like this.”

  “People like what?” He smirked.

  “Important people. Famous people.”

  “I doubt you'll even recognize who he is.”

  “Still, he is famous, right? A famous director.”

  “I'm famous too, but you act casual around me.”

  “You're different though. You're Dom. I grew up with you.”

  “The point, Kimlet, is that all famous people are just normal people. You don't need to kiss his ass because he's famous.”

  “But you do, because he's making your book into a movie, right?”

  “Not really. There is no financial arrangement between us. He just wanted my creative input on the direction of the movie. Technically, he doesn't have to take my advice at all. It's simply a courtesy.”

  “Oh.” I was a bit confused. “So, was this meeting even necessary then?”

  “If I care any about how my book will be translated, then yes, it is a necessity, on my part.”

  “I'll never understand this stuff.” I frowned.

  “It's a good thing you don't have to then.” He mussed up my hair as we stepped out of the elevator, and I growled, thinking of how hard it had been to smooth out the top of my hair when I pulled it into a pony tail. It was probably all frizzy now, thanks to his carelessness. Oh well, it was too late to worry about it.

  We drove a few blocks down the street and stopped in front of a building called Musso & Frank's Grill. When I saw it from the outside, I relaxed. It didn't look stuffy at all, with an old Hollywood style sign that made it seem more like a tourist attraction than a high end restaurant. Maybe I wasn't overdressed after all. As we entered the building, however, it was all business suits and dresses. I scowled at my jeans, though no one else seemed to pay much notice to how I was dressed.

  The place was small and packed. There were booths to the left filled with dining customers and a bar to the right with not a stool unoccupied. Everyone else was crammed together at the front of the establishment, which I could only assume was the waiting area, though there were no chairs to sit in.

  A man waved Dominick over, and I stayed on his heels as we joined up with our party. The man looked unfamiliar to me, and while I couldn't hear his last name, I did get that his first name was Nick. His wife was considerably younger, with long dark hair and a gorgeous complexion. Just being in their presence made me feel somehow inferior.

  I stayed close to Dominick like a shadow, avoiding conversation. Nick and his wife weren't paying much attention to me anyway. Dominick seemed to be talking enough for the both of us, but I could tell that he felt every bit as awkward as I did.

  After about twenty minutes of standing around, we were finally led to our table, which was square in the middle of the room. The waiter rushed to pull out Nick's wife's chair. Whether he had planned to pull mine out or not, I didn't wait to find out. Once we were away from the entrance, the volume dulled to a more manageable level. I still couldn't hear everything they were saying, but I caught more of the conversation than I had before.

  “Is this your wife?” Nick asked Dominick. His lips curled into a charming smile under his salt and pepper mustache. The hair on his head was completely white, and I could only guess that he was in his early sixties.

  I blushed at the question, waiting for Dominick's response.

  He glanced at me before telling them that I was a family friend. That hurt. After all the fucking we had done, shouldn't I have at least earned the title of girlfriend? It made me question what our relationship actually was, and for the rest of the evening, I found myself sulking and stewing over it.

  Nick's wife, who I learned was named Heather, tried to engage me in conversation. I was polite, but I could tell just by looking at her that we had nothing in common. For the most part, I sat in silence, picking at my food and wishing I was somewhere else.

  Sometime during the middle of dinner, Dominick placed his hand on my thigh. I knew the gesture was supposed to be comforting, but I was mad at him, and the last thing I wanted was for him to touch me. Nonchalantly, I pushed his hand away, shifting my weight at the same time so it wouldn't be noticeable. If he was offended, I couldn't tell. He simply continued talking and smiling as if nothing had happened at all.

  I was never happier than when the meal was over, and we were walking outside to the limo. Nick asked if we'd like to come back to his house for cocktails, and I was relieved when Dominick politely declined, telling him that we had an early flight the next morning.

  We waved our goodbyes, and I watched Dominick smile fakely at the couple before we headed into the limo. He played the part of the professional very well. They probably couldn't tell that half of his sentiments were forced.

  “Well, now you can say you've met a movie star,” Dominick said with a sigh.

  “I can?” I settled into the seat across from him.

  “Yes. Heather has been in quite a few movies.”

  “Oh. I thought she was a model.”

  “She is rather beautiful, isn't she?”

  That comment only made me seethe more. He was really striking out.

  I gave Dominick the cold shoulder for the rest of the night, and he didn't even seem to notice. As I watched him read on the serpentine sofa, part of me wanted to rip his ereader out of his hands, throw it across the room, and engage him in a conversation about what our relationship was. The rational part of me though decided to take a shower and go to bed. Sleeping was easier said than done after my mid-morning nap, so I ended up just laying there until Dominick joined me.

  I closed my eyes and listened to him undress, my body coming to life from the sound of rustling clothing. It pissed me off that I wanted him. We'd already had sex that day, and I still wanted him, despite my discontent. When he slid into bed and wrapped his arms around me, I tensed. I wanted him, but I didn't want him to touch me. It didn't make sense at all. Sometimes I hated the way my brain and body worked against each other.

  Apparently, he wasn't tired either, because gentle hugging soon turned into him pressing against me. I could feel his firm erection jabbing into my backside, followed by the soft touch of his lips on my shoulder. My clit throbbed in approval, but my heart was slamming on the breaks.

  “I'm tired,” I lied, just wanting to be left alone.

  “You had all day to sleep,” he said, his mouth moving up to kiss and suck on my earlobe.

  “I didn't sleep all day.” I turned my head, pulling away from him.

  Dominick sat up, looking over at me. “Are you alright?”

  “I'm fine. Why?”

  “You've been acting weird since dinner.”

  “I'm just tired.”

  “Too tire
d for sex?” He poked at my back.

  “You're insatiable.”

  “I thought you liked that about me.”

  “Not when I'm tired,” I groaned, burying my head in my pillow.

  “You're no fun.”

  “Then leave me at home next time.”

  “Hey.” He grabbed my shoulder, pulling me around to face him. “What's wrong? Talk to me.”

  Damn. Why did he know me so well? It was obvious I was in a pissy mood. There was no hiding it. This didn't feel like the right time to discuss our relationship though. If we argued, there was really nowhere for me to escape, and I'd feel bad if Dominick ended up sleeping on the serpentine sofa again, like I had ruined his business trip.

  “You think Heather is pretty,” I said with a pout, trading in the real issue for something that was more easily settled.

  “Of course I think she's pretty,” he replied, which only made me feel worse. Maybe this wasn't a better conversation to have after all. “Are you jealous?”

  “You want her.”

  “I want a lot of women I won't ever have, just as I'm sure you like a lot of men that you won't ever have. It's natural to be attracted to beautiful things.”

  “What if she wanted you back?”

  “She's married. I wouldn't go there.”

  “It's funny how you don't factor me into the equation at all. And you wonder why you're not getting laid tonight.” I grabbed his pillow and threw it at him, overwhelmed by anger and jealousy and a dozen other raw negative emotions I couldn't place. “Go sleep on the couch.”

  He furrowed his brow at me and reached out a hand to rub my back, which I quickly slapped away. My harsh actions made him recoil, and he took hold of his pillow before standing up and turning to me.

  “If you have issues with me finding other women attractive, then I suppose it's good we sleep in separate rooms at home. My sofa isn't particularly comfortable,” he sighed. “You have a lot to learn about men and relationships, Kimlet.”

  “Go away,” I grumbled into my pillow and then listened to his footsteps retreating out of the room.

  Then I cried. Cried and cried and cried as quietly as possible into the pillow. I had done exactly what I told myself I wouldn't do. Even worse, I had turned a wonderful vacation into a nightmare. No. Not me. He had done it with his thoughtless comments. Of course, I didn't want him looking at other women. That was only natural. Or, if he was going to do it, I didn't want him to admit it to me. But, I supposed it didn't matter anyway since I was just a family friend. Sure, we fucked, but there was no title to our relationship. How could he make me feel so low? In the matter of one afternoon, I had been reduced from lover to booty call, and apparently he was still on the lookout for something better.

  Chapter 8

  The plane ride home was tense, from my perspective at least. Dominick acted like nothing had happened between us. He was good at that. It was one thing about him that I absolutely hated. If I didn't know him better, I'd think he didn't care about my feelings at all.

  When we got home, we went our separate ways. He holed himself up in his office to write, and I got on my computer to Skype with my friends about how the vacation had gone. Victor was incredibly sympathetic—too sympathetic—flirtingly sympathetic, and I found myself fantasizing about what it would be like to date someone my own age, or at least someone not as rude and careless as Dominick. I had promised myself I would help him learn to love again, but he made it difficult when he said and did things like this.

  When he sent me the latest chunk of manuscript to proofread and comment on, I was torn between whether or not to read it or put it off for another day that I didn't feel so emotionally battered. Absentmindedly, I scrolled through the few pages he had written. There was no mention of another woman. He had omitted my embarrassing elevator scene, but the window sex scene was still there. All of his emotions were love and desire. As he had told me though, the things he wrote were fantasy, and I was beginning to wonder if his feelings were a fantasy as well. So much of what he wrote had never happened. He manipulated the thoughts and feeling of others, bending them to his liking to fit the plot of his stories. He omitted the fights and the misery. It was fiction.

  I closed my laptop and laid down in bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if I had gotten it all wrong. Perhaps what I had been reading wasn't his real thoughts and feelings. Maybe it was all just a story I had fallen into, wanting to make myself a part of it, wanting to believe that the things written within were true. What if he didn't really love me?

  My tear ducts felt dry from all the crying I had done the previous night, but I still managed to squeeze out a tear or two, though there was no uncontrollable sobbing to go with it, which I was thankful for. Negativity stabbed at my brain, filling it with miserable what-ifs. What if I was fooling myself? What if I had made our relationship out to be something that it wasn't? What if I really was just a cheap substitute for my sister? It would make sense that he wouldn't introduce me as his girlfriend if that were the case.

  The night prayed upon my emotions, draining me of energy and feeling until there was nothing left. I lay there in the darkness, wishing I was home, wishing I hadn't moved to Arizona, wishing Dominick was in some other state, and that I had never replaced my sweet memories of him with hard cold reality. Who was I kidding? He was out of my league. I was young and inexperienced and nowhere near as attractive as my sister or Heather or half the other women in the world he had a shot with. I was just easy access to sex.

  Sleep did little to lighten my mood. I stayed in my room, only emerging to cook breakfast and leave for school. Dominick and I had been through this routine before. Soon, he would realize something was wrong and approach me to talk about it. Either that, or he'd be fine with me avoiding him. I scowled at the thought.

  “You didn't report back about my story last night,” he said to me on the way to school.

  “It was fine. It's always fine,” I grumbled.

  Dominick looked at me with only the slightest hint of concern. Or was it offense? “If you don't want to read it anymore, you don't have to.”

  “It's fine. I don't mind reading it.”

  “Alright. Just let me know. You were the one who wanted to read it. I don't want you to feel obligated to continue.”

  I didn't respond but simply sat there with my hands crossed over my chest, looking forward to getting out of the car and away from him.

  School was boring as usual. At lunch, Carmen asked me a bunch of questions about my vacation, making it the topic of discussion for the hour. Victor seemed less interested, as he usually did when Dominick's name entered the conversation. While he didn't oppose of my relationship with Dominick, he didn't seem to support it either. I could only assume that was because he liked me. He had never come out and said it, but he had hinted at it enough.

  After lunch, when Victor and I were walking to class together, he pulled me aside to talk. Just the feel of his hand wrapping around my arm made me blush. That brief contact was all it took to set my mind alight with impure thoughts.

  “Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the fair with me this weekend? Just as friends, you know,” he said.

  “That would be fun,” I replied.

  “I figured I'd give you more notice this time.”

  “That's probably a good idea.”

  “Alright. Well, I'll talk to you later.” He waved at me before hurrying on to his class.

  Now it was just a question of how to approach Dominick on the subject. The last time Victor and I had tried to go out together, it was a disaster. A last minute text was no good. This was better handled face to face.

  After school, I stepped inside the Maserati, feeling the tension between Dominick and I as soon as my ass hit the seat. Of course, I was probably the only one who was feeling it. Dominick acted the same as always.

  “I'm going out on Friday,” I told him matter-of-factually as we pulled out of the parking lot.

  “W
ith who?”

  “With Carmen,” I lied, curious if it would make a difference.

  “Make sure to be home by ten.”

  And that was the end of it. We drove home, I cooked dinner and then retreated to my room, avoiding him. Life went on in the same twisted way it had the first time I got mad and decided I wanted to move out.

  The days rolled on to Friday, and I couldn't wait for my date with Victor. Well, he hadn't called it a date, but I still considered it to be one. If not for Dominick, it would have been a date, and Dominick seemed to be fading out of the picture with every passing day.

  Whatever was going on between us, it was far from a relationship. There was no communication. Not the kind needed to hold a successful relationship together. He never apologized for the things he said or did, and he didn't come after me when I was in a bad mood. That's how a real relationship would have worked. If he truly loved me, he would have been going above and beyond to make everything right again. Instead, he ignored our problems like they didn't exist. Besides, I was just a family friend to him, which meant that I was free to date other people. On the painful flip side, so was he, but he never left the condo to make me worry about it. In the time that I had been staying with him, I had learned that he was very dedicated to work, and there were few people in his life besides me. Only his editor and publicist, neither of which I had ever met.

  Victor and I hooked up in the hallway after class. Inside, I was jumping up and down with excitement. If he was feeling anything like I was, he hid it well. He kind of reminded me of Dominick in how he carried himself, just a more relaxed version. His posture and articulation were near perfect, and he dressed preppy and expensively, but he was less stiff and had a much friendlier disposition.

  “Dominick's not the only one who has a nice car,” he said, clicking the automatic door locks on a black BMW M6.

  “Wow, that is a nice car,” I replied, trying to look more shocked than I actually felt.

  “Almost up there with the Maserati, but not quite.” Victor opened the passenger door for me, and I smirked, thinking about how much of a gentleman he was being.