Sex, Money, and the Price of Truth (The Price Series Book 2)

by PE Kavanagh

  He stopped in the lobby to slip a hundred dollar bill into Edgar’s hand. That guy was a high quality human being - honest, caring, hard-working without being obsessed about money. Aidan needed more people like that in his life.

  He walked out into the sunny day, grateful for the late summer breeze. There were times the stifling heat and humidity of the tropics had felt like a well-deserved punishment. He had run away to paradise, but a little bit of hell had followed alongside. Heading uptown to Central Park with a smile on his face, Aidan was certain of his redemption.

  2

  Kismet

  MY THIGHS AND lungs are on fire. I don’t think I can run any faster. There isn't time to look back and see how close he is. I won’t let myself get caught. Not by him. Not again.

  He was supposed to be gone. I made sure of it, had thought I was safe. How had he found me?

  I push harder, grateful to be going downhill, willing the breath to enter my lungs. The trees fall away and all I can see ahead is a blue that has no substance. In seconds, the road will end in a sheer drop and I’ll run out of earth under my feet. I can’t slow down. He is approaching too fast, his footsteps coming closer, and the heat of his rage presses me forward. I have no choice. I have to jump.

  My foot presses away the last few inches of solid ground and I prepare to fall through open sky, into the promise of freedom from his constant pursuit. Instead, I am engulfed in cold, dark relief as I sink into the frigid depths of the ocean.

  * * *

  Stuck in the layer between consciousness and sleep, Lola struggled to breathe. For the first few seconds after opening her eyes in the dark bedroom, she believed she was still underwater.

  That same dream had thrust her from sleep for the past seven nights. Years after breaking up with her philandering ex-boyfriend, Lola did not expect him to be hijacking her nights. There was no reason for Scott to make an appearance, even if only in her dreams.

  He’d left Manhattan, his friends and family had assured her, taking all his spite and rage to some other city. Lola couldn’t guarantee he was gone and was too afraid to go digging around. She was going to stay as far away as possible, having learned the consequences of messy entanglements and men with dark secrets.

  Tilting her head upward, with the rasp of a constricted throat, she shouted, ”Leave me alone!" The sound echoed off empty bedroom walls. Sleep deprivation had left her exhausted with a growing sense of desperation. It was only three am.

  Lola pushed herself out of the warm bed, trudged to the kitchen, and started up the coffee-maker. Comforted by the familiar bubbling and drip, the soundtrack of her days and nights, she sat down on the couch and replayed the details of the dream, before the details dulled into a haze she could no longer remember.

  Most of her nights had been filled with rich, intense dreamscapes, which she had accepted as an integral part of her unique wiring. Even as a young girl, she received messages from magical creatures and insights from other worlds, during slumber. Often, the guidance was accurate enough to be considered psychic. But she never liked that term. All the women in her family had this extra sense. She didn't consider it mystical. It was just genetic.

  Nothing came forward other than a looming fear of Scott’s return. Perhaps she was having a delayed stress response to the trauma of their breakup. She would not allow herself to believe she was in danger. Even if he had returned to the city, he was harmless.

  She picked up her e-reader and flicked it on. It opened to a new chapter in the suspense novel that had become her middle-of-the-night companion. The first line sent a shiver down her spine, tumbling her back into the nightmare:

  * * *

  “His plan was coming to life. Her destruction was imminent.”

  * * *

  Hours later, before the sun had risen enough to brighten her apartment, Lola pulled herself away from the gruesome ending of the book to get ready for work. The grand life she had built in New York City, running an acclaimed magazine, did not allow for lazy mornings or the pull of distractions. Impressing her family of super-achievers required hard work.

  Lola had always made sure that nothing unseemly or compromising could tarnish the façade of her carefully crafted life. Keeping up appearances had been more difficult since the dreams began, an unnamable anxiety appearing throughout her day. She could neither shake a sense of dread nor decipher her usually sharp intuition. Her life had fallen out of focus. The temporary solution that morning, and many more before it, was two-fold: coffee and work.

  On her short walk to the building that housed the magazine’s offices, Lola looked forward to the first sighting of the familiar wooden sign carved with an exotic script. Kismet Cafe was a quirky place, located in the center of Manhattan, nestled between a shoe repair and a Korean BBQ. The glass entry provided a full view of all the people squeezed into the tiny space.

  It wasn’t a national chain and didn’t have a fancy coffee brand, which appealed to Lola’s sense of the world. They just served good, strong coffee and happened to be between her apartment and her office. Hardly a day had passed in her five years as a New Yorker that she had not stepped into Kismet.

  Kai, one of the two brothers who owned the shop, was a big fan of hers. Yes, she had been a loyal, steady customer, but she imagined that something more personal brought a smile to his face every time she came in. Lola enjoyed the special treatment - free samples, size upgrades, and the ability to walk to the front of the line when she was in a rush. She appreciated that he flirted with her, but never took it any further than the front counter. Their friendship fit perfectly into the image of her orderly life.

  That Thursday morning, someone she didn’t recognize stood at the front of the line. His hair, from behind, first caught her eye. All the men in this part of the city, at this hour, had banker haircuts - sharp, sleek and overpriced. But his was long, a little shaggy, and the color of the coffee that would soon be in her possession. She imagined threading her fingers through a big handful of the thick waves. The recklessness of that idea was just short of terrifying.

  With ample time to stare uninterrupted, she moved toward the counter as he waited for his coffee. His jeans and t-shirt confirmed the ‘not-a-banker’ status, but the shoes… very expensive. Creating stories about the people around her was one of Lola’s favorite pastimes, and he made for a great character. Without even seeing his face, she could conjure a whole life for this mystery man. He was an artist, perhaps. Visiting from Europe or South America, headlining at The Met Museum, or MOMA or someplace equally fabulous. The view from the back, impressive as it was, would be surpassed by the front view of dark, sultry eyes, a square jaw and slightly off-center smile.

  Lost in her fantasy, she hardly registered when he turned around and smiled as he passed her on his way out. Her body responded with a flutter in the center of her chest while her mind attempted to process what she had seen. He strode out the door before she let herself exhale.

  His face was not at all what she had expected. Complexion like the creamiest latte, pierced by eyes that reminded her of a sunburst. She could not tell whether they were brown, green, grey or gold, just that they looked like magic.

  Such a striking man stood out among the nondescript faces that populated her mornings, but there was something familiar enough about him to make her wonder if he’d been there before. How had a man like that escaped her notice? She nodded to herself. It couldn’t hurt having a super-hot guy in the neighborhood, could it?

  She saw him again, four days later, as she left the cafe and he waited in line. Her gaze lingered shamelessly on his body. Dark jeans and a blue striped dress shirt this time. He was tall, even for her, with the lean, broad build of an athlete. They locked eyes as she passed.

  Two days later, they finally spoke.

  He stopped where she stood in line. She was ready.

  “Hi,” he said as if greeting an old friend.

  “Good morning.” She squeezed her purse to prevent herself from fidge
ting with her hair.

  “I’ve seen you here before.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  “Yup. This is my morning stop. On my way to work.” Lola pointed her thumb out the door, instantly realizing that that signal would be meaningless to him.

  “I just discovered it. Good coffee. Cool vibe.”

  She nodded, compelling herself to control her face and body. This man was disarmingly attractive. And that voice…

  “Hey! How’s my favorite customer?” Kai asked her in his unmistakable accent.

  She tried to hide the fact that he had startled her. “I’m great, Kai. How are you?”

  “Living the life, gorgeous. Living the life. Regular today? The caramel lattes have been selling like crack. Wanna try one?”

  “No thanks. Just the usual.”

  Mystery Man had moved up to the counter with her and continued to speak. “Not a fan of the caramel latte?”

  “Nope. That’s a bit too much going on for me this early. I take it black. No frills, no surprises.”

  His eyes crinkled at the outer edges. “Don’t you like surprises?”

  “Not even a little bit.” Lola cleared her throat in an attempt to dampen the tremor in her voice. Why did she feel so nervous?

  “Really? Not even the good ones, like surprise parties and surprise gifts and surprise proposals?”

  The last one hit a nerve. She straightened the lapel of her jacket. “Absolutely not.”

  “Hmm… I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

  She rifled through her wallet, the overt flirting registering despite her lack of practice.

  His fingertips grazed her arm. “I got this,” he said to Kai, who shared a confused look with Lola. “I’d like to buy your coffee. If that’s okay. I know it might be a surprise.”

  Oh, he thinks he’s funny. “Thanks. That’s very nice of you.”

  “My pleasure. I’ve wanted to do that since the first time I saw you here. But I didn’t want to seem creepy.”

  “And today?” She raised an eyebrow, hoping to look clever and not deranged.

  “I decided it was worth it if I get to talk to you.”

  Deflection came easily, mastered through years of constantly getting picked up by schemers, liars, and cheats. “Well, it’s off to work for me. Thanks again for the coffee.” She left him at the counter, certain he stared as she walked out. A little extra sway in her hips made sure he had something good to look at.

  Lola strode into the coffee shop two days later, prepared. Instead of wearing her hair as usual - up in a messy bun or back in a sleek ponytail - she left it down, to cascade in soft waves to the middle of her back. The summer had added extra golden highlights. It glowed like honey in the sun.

  She had also deployed her two no-fail makeup strategies: a bit of eyeliner to brighten the green of her eyes and a swipe of gloss for a perfect pucker. The heels were a last minute decision. She realized, while slipping them on, that she was going to an awful lot of trouble for a mysterious stranger who could just as soon disappear as he had appeared. Dammit, I'm toast.

  Lola paused in the coffee shop entry and calculated how much to apply her well-tuned bullshit meter and how much to be spontaneous and playful. The right combination would keep things light while ensuring she would not be preyed upon. Or at least that’s what she hoped. She would have to resurrect her studies in the art of cautious flirting.

  A large group hovered near the cashier, waiting for their drinks and obscuring her view. She only noticed him after she reached the counter. His deep smile startled her, as if he had been watching for a long time. She tried to play it off, fiddling with her phone, pretending to read something.

  Get yourself together, Lola. She looked up at him, perched on a stool, and greeted him with a small nod.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.

  “That’s okay.” Busted.

  “How are you this morning?”

  “Fine, thanks. It’s Friday, so… you know…” What the hell was she trying to say? She busied herself by staring behind the counter, feigning impatience while waiting for her coffee.

  “Any big plans for the weekend?”

  “I’m supposed to go hiking with some friends. But the weather is looking iffy. And I'm not intrepid enough to go in pouring rain.”

  “How about an indoor activity instead?”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  He laughed. “Sorry, that sounded bad. What I meant was, would you have dinner with me? Maybe tomorrow night?”

  Holy mother of God. The flirting she could justify. Guys like that needed to have their egos stroked constantly. But an actual date? With her? He was the kind of man you fantasized about but did not engage. Certainly didn’t date. Trouble in fine packaging.

  “Um… okay. Sure.” Why have I lost my entire vocabulary?

  He smiled from his mouth to his forehead. “Great. Really… great.”

  “Yes… well I’ll see you then.” An overwhelming urge to get out of the coffee shop, away from him, propelled her toward the front door.

  “Wait!" He reached for her arm. "Can I have your number? Or would you like to take mine? So we can be in touch?”

  Of course, genius. “Yes,” she blushed, “forgot about that part. Do you want me to put it in your phone?”

  “Yes, please.” He stood up to reach into his pocket and retrieved his phone. Even in her heels, she still had to look up to be face-to-face. Her mouth watered.

  “My name is Lola, by the way. I put Lola Kismet in your contacts, so you have context.”

  He laughed, hard. “Lola, I don’t need context to remember you. Trust me.”

  The back of her neck, just below her hairline, grew warm. “Oh, okay then. Talk to you soon.”

  “Very soon.”

  Lola wondered if she would ever hear from him. She didn’t even know his name. Excitement twisted into absurdity.

  She walked the two blocks to her office, oblivious to her surroundings, but keenly aware of her body vibrating. Was she really going to go through with this? She did not date strangers. Actually, she didn’t date anyone. Not since the string of laughable encounters following the catastrophic breakup. Even as a smart, attractive woman in a bustling city, she hadn’t been able to get the right attention from the right guys.

  Besides, she knew it would end badly. That man was too smooth, too hot, too everything. And yet, saying no to him had not even occurred to her. Maybe she’d been hypnotized by those eyes.

  Her phone buzzed as she entered the revolving doors of her office building. The clients must be waiting for me. I shouldn’t have taken so long getting coffee. And flirting. And giving my number to some random, excessively good-looking and charming stranger.

  She decided to take the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator and was immediately reminded of her poor choice of footwear. Climbing stairs in stilettos – utter folly.

  “Good morning, Ms. Jennings!” Kim, the receptionist, greeted her with a broad, toothy smile. “Wow, you look gorgeous today! I love it when you wear your hair down.”

  All that effort she put in that morning had worked; he had asked her out. But was that what she really wanted? “Thanks, Kim. That’s sweet of you to say. Is my 9am here already?”

  “Not yet. Do you want me to come get you when they arrive?”

  Lola exhaled, relieved. “Oh. Yes, please. Thanks.”

  The phone in her office began ringing before she arrived at her desk. With less than one week before printing, the magazine was frenetic with activity. The writers, designers, and advertising staff all needed approvals before having their work compiled into the final publication. As Managing Editor, it all had to pass her desk before going out into the world. She loved her job and hated it at the same time.

  By late morning, after meetings with two sets of clients, Lola remembered that her cellphone had buzzed hours earlier. The first was a voicemail from her sister, which she chose not to listen to. There was enou
gh drama in her week without being pulled under by her sister’s constant crises. The second was a text message. Although she didn’t recognize the number, she had no doubt to whom it belonged.

  2125550624: Hi, my name is Aidan. Forgot to mention it. You’ve got me tongue-tied. Can’t wait for tomorrow.

  LOLA: Hi Aidan. Hope you’re having a good morning. Thx for checking in.

  His answer appeared seconds after she pressed send.

  2125550624: My morning is GREAT btw ;)

  This guy was already too much. He continued.

  2125550624: Pick you up at 7? Text me your address and I’ll bring the carriage around.

  No way, buddy. No home addresses on the first date. It’s not fear. Just privacy.

  * * *

  LOLA: How about we meet at the restaurant? 7 sounds fine.

  2125550624: Bordering into creepy again? Let me figure out where to go. Any food/cuisine requests?

  LOLA: Asian is my fave. Anything farm-to-table too. Thx for asking.

  2125550624: My pleasure.

  A knock on the glass door of her office jolted Lola out of the sexy scene playing out in her head. She must have been staring at her phone for minutes. A crowd of people had gathered just outside, in need of her attention. The fantasy - his body, her body, a breathy whisper in her ear - would have to wait.

  3

  Wine and Dine