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

by PE Kavanagh

  “I guess you could call it that. No showering either.” Lola took a big sniff to check.

  “I was wondering about the fabulous aroma…”

  “Always the funny guy.”

  “I wish.” Aidan cleared his throat. “So you’re headed home?”

  “Yup. And you?”

  “I’ll go help Tommy pack up.”

  “Okay. Have a good afternoon, Aidan.”

  “You too, Lola. Great to see you.”

  * * *

  Her intention was to catch a taxi uptown, but she ended up walking, her mind busy replaying the day. Things with Aidan had taken a strange turn. Something about his demeanor didn’t feel right, but she couldn’t point to anything specific. He was gracious, attentive, charming enough. Yet his agitation gave her cause for worry. It made her question her ability to judge the situation clearly.

  By the time Lola arrived at her building, tired and chilled, nothing had been resolved. In any case, she had tons of work to do and an unpleasant call to make to her sister. Claire was exceptionally skilled at making everything all about herself, which might have been the perfect remedy for Lola’s worrying.

  Before she went to bed that night, her phone buzzed with a text from him.

  * * *

  AIDAN: I really enjoyed seeing you today. Sorry it was awkward. Hope you got lots of work done. Please wear your hair like that on Thursday.

  LOLA: Smart ass.

  AIDAN: You misunderstand. I really liked it.

  LOLA: I think I’ll be showering.

  AIDAN: Fair enough.

  LOLA: Good night, Aidan.

  AIDAN: Good night, Lola.

  * * *

  She hoped this Aidan - smart, funny, charming - would be the one to make an appearance in her dreams. Without any murderous companions.

  5

  Dream and Dinner

  LOLA’S MIND WAS racing when her phone buzzed at just past midnight on Wednesday night. An intense few days at work and the continued disturbance of her sleep had kept her off kilter. She had fallen into bed, exhausted and fighting rising concern that she hadn’t heard from Aidan since his text after the uncomfortable day at the market. Maybe it was over before it even began. This idea did not offer any relief. The sound of a text coming in startled her out of the dark projection.

  AIDAN: You made it! At least I hope you did. Can’t wait to see you. In less than 19 hours. Not that I'm counting.

  All her denial dissolved with a flash of desire and a flood of yearning. The tension from the week dropped away as she admitted how much she wanted to see him, to be with him. This man aroused her in a way she hadn’t felt in much too long. A deep exhale softened the contracted muscles around her jaw and dropped her heavy eyelids. It had barely gone dark when the dream closed in around her.

  * * *

  My back presses into the frame of a tall, narrow chair in the center of an otherwise empty room. The high gloss of my boots blends into the floor the color of sea glass.

  I've been sitting perfectly still for minutes, in a small slip of black leather that could have been called a skirt but barely covers the tops of my thighs, and a corset that piles my breasts at the top of my chest. Breathing is difficult, moving impossible. He watches me from just outside my view, the heat from his body crashing against me in waves. I slowly separate my legs to reveal a small patch of dark hair and the sheen of my desire.

  My hand slides into the shadowed space between my legs and moves in rhythm with his breath. His panting deepens into groans. I open my mouth and the building heat escapes on my breath. My body shudders as the cry of my release fills the room.

  I extend my arm in front of me, fingers glistening with my own pleasure. He understands this is the sign that he is allowed to enter the room, which he does silently, falling on his knees in front of me.

  He opens his mouth and begins to suck my fingers, one by one. The warmth of his mouth, the texture of his tongue, the slight pull of pressure magnifies my need for him to touch me. To taste me. I look down at his naked body and his fierce erection tells me everything I want to know.

  "Your turn.” I pull my pointer finger from his mouth and push my knees further apart.

  He tries to reach his arms forward to touch me, but is unable. His eyes widen and his nostrils flare with panic. He struggles, finally realizing that his hands are bound behind him. He opens his mouth again, this time to scream.

  The moon lit Lola’s room enough for her to see. As his scream echoed in her memory, she had the distinct feeling this man was going to undo her.

  Lola had asked Maddie to stop by after work on Thursday to help her get ready for her date. She was tired and wracked with uncertainty about everything having to do with Aidan, and was starting to doubt her decision-making ability. Maddie always gave it to her straight.

  Her outfit was the least of the questions, but the easiest to focus on. They considered and discarded many items until settling on dark grey leggings, chunky heel booties and an ocean blue blouse. It was sexy and casual with sufficient attention drawn to her best assets.

  “You look totally fuckable, Lo.”

  “Thanks. I think.” Lola looked at herself in the mirror and scrunched her nose. “I’m not sure that’s what I’m after.”

  Maddie rolled her eyes. “Make up your mind, babe. Nobody likes a tease.”

  Lola whipped around with a glare. “I’m not a tease! What’s wrong with taking it slow?”

  “Not a thing. Especially for you.”

  Lola shook her head at her smirking friend. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Come on, babe. You know you get a little wiggy when you step out past your comfort zone.”

  Lola hated that this was true. “I just can’t handle any more psycho boyfriends.”

  “Fully agreed.”

  “I want to make sure I know who he is before we hop into the sack. Even though…”

  “I know. He’s crazy hot. I’m not sure I’d have any willpower around that guy.”

  “Exactly! Hence my dilemma.”

  “Better you than me.” Maddie stood up to fluff Lola’s hair. “I can’t believe you’re taking dating advice from a woman who’s been with the same guy her entire life. Especially with the fertility drugs making me crazy.”

  Lola turned to hug her friend. “I think you’re doing great. And you always have the best advice.”

  “Shows how much you know.” Maddie squeezed harder. “Love you, Lo.”

  “Love you, Mads.”

  “Don’t forget to take video this time. I don’t want to miss a second of the action. Or of his apartment. Or of his body.”

  The women fell onto the bed, laughing loudly.

  * * *

  As Lola walked the six blocks to his place, just past her office, she slowed her breathing to quell her nerves. Other than her family and Trevor, no man had cooked for her in ages. She wanted to see his environment, know him through the objects he surrounded himself with. Going to a guy’s place this soon had its risks, but intrigue outweighed worry. This man was too many layers of mystery and she wanted answers.

  Besides, she wasn’t getting any danger vibe from him. Secrets, definitely. But nothing threatening. Which was something she was always looking for. Since Scott.

  When she turned the last corner, the nondescript buildings made her question whether she had gotten the address wrong. She had expected a glamorous high-rise, not a converted factory.

  Lola stepped inside the lobby and it all made sense. It was more like a jewelry box, decorated in plush colors and modern furnishings, than an industrial building. She gave her name to the doorman, who smiled as he led her to the elevator. When he stepped in, she tensed up until she saw him pull out a special key and turn a lock above the button to Aidan’s floor. He exited with a smile.

  The elevator doors opened directly into a small foyer, facing a curved wall made of irregular glass chunks, with a steady stream of water flowing over it. She walked around to on
e side, into the cavernous apartment. A loft, as she had imagined, but immaculately beautiful, reminding her of a museum or art gallery. Enormous paintings hung from the ceiling, while unusual, modern sculptures caught her eye throughout the space.

  Aidan appeared from around a corner wearing loose faded jeans, a white t-shirt and an apron. He looked like an ad for Viagra. Or condoms. Too perfect.

  “Look at you,” he said as he walked the few steps toward her.

  “Look at you," she replied. "Downright domestic, I see.”

  “Oh, you have no idea. But you will soon. Anyway, hi.” He wiped his hands on his apron, then gave her a brief hug. “Come in.”

  “I was really surprised by your building. But it’s a total decoy. It’s like a museum in here.” Her gaze caught an enormous Buddha head perched on a concrete cylinder.

  “Thanks. It’s a little odd, I know. But it suits me.”

  Who wouldn’t it suit?

  “Can I take your coat? Then we can do the grand tour.”

  “Sounds great." Something smelled delicious. "How’s it going in the kitchen?”

  “Well, the delivery guy should be here any minute, so we’ll be fine.”

  Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”

  “No, not seriously. I cooked. Didn’t burn anything. But it’s simple, so if you lower your expectations, you’ll be thrilled.”

  “I can do that.” She shimmied the rest of the way out of her jacket.

  He draped it across a cream-colored chaise, which reminded Lola of the chic furniture store that had just begun advertising in the magazine.

  “Shall we?” He bent his arm for her to clasp, and she did.

  As they walked past the kitchen, he picked up a martini glass. “Here’s a little something for the tour.”

  “Yumm…”

  “This is the kitchen, as you can see.”

  “Nice. Lots of space.”

  “I hate cooking in cramped spaces. Makes the food taste bad.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Didn’t you know that?” He winked.

  “Hmmmm…”

  “This,” with a sweep of his arm, “is nearly everything else - living room, dining room, Zen room, et cetera.”

  The back wall of the apartment consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows, covered by hundreds of strings of tiny beads suspended from above. A tree was growing on the far right side, next to something that looked like an altar. She could see the influences he had brought back with him from Asia. Maybe from elsewhere around the world as well. Lola made a point to close her mouth to keep from gasping at everything she saw.

  Lola loved it all: the spaciousness, the soft tones, the unique touches. Sure, it must have cost a fortune, but what most impressed her was the elegance and understatement, portraying the owner as someone who enjoyed beautiful things, but didn’t need everyone to know that they were expensive. The color palette - shades of cream and slate, with occasional splashes of sapphire blue - exuded masculinity, just like the man standing next to her.

  Lola looked down in response to the urges tickling her skin. Even the floor was a statement in geometric patterns of stone tiles, gold-colored wood, and polished concrete. Her stepfather and stepbrother, who were both design geniuses, would tell her to keep this guy. They might want to make him a part of the family, a thought that caused her to nearly drop her martini glass. She took a sip instead.

  Aidan continued. “Around that corner are the two bedrooms.” Nearly everything was visible through glass and sheer curtains. The enormous wall of books caught her eye. “There are bathrooms in each one, and also one over here,” he pointed to her left. “Use any bathroom you like.”

  Lola was relieved that the stand-alone bathroom was behind an opaque wall. Clearly privacy was not one of his priorities. “Your place really matches you. It’s like I am getting to know you by being here.”

  “I hope so.” He beamed.

  “When do I get to find out what’s for dinner?”

  “Do you want to guess?”

  “Sure, I can do that.”

  He took both their glasses and put them down on the dining table. “Okay, close your eyes.” He moved behind her, placed his hands on her hips and began walking her slowly in the direction she assumed was the kitchen.

  “Eyes still closed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Promise?”

  “No promises.”

  “I keep forgetting. What do you smell?”

  “Hmmm…” She took a few long breaths as his hands fell from her hips. “Something rich and creamy. But not butter, or cream, I think. Something pungent, tangy.” Then a sharp breath. “I know exactly what it is!”

  “Okay, are you ready to submit your final answer?”

  She opened her eyes to see him in front of her. “Yes, I am. It’s curry. Thai curry.”

  “Very good. For the bonus points – what kind of Thai curry?”

  “My guess is… green curry, Bob!”

  “We have a winner!!" They both jumped up and down with their arms in the air.

  “Oh, my gosh, this is so exciting! What did I win???”

  He stopped jumping. “Well, that’s quite a question, ma’am.” She guessed what he must have been thinking and liked it.

  “Your prize includes an all expense paid trip to… the dining room! There you will enjoy a fabulously exotic culinary excursion to Thailand, in three whole courses, complete with libations. And utensils!”

  She laughed at the joke. And also to hide the disappointment that her prize was not something more… intimate.

  “But first…”

  Tell me more.

  “Because of the high stakes, there is a required verification process. So we make sure the right person gets the prize. To avoid fraud and all that.”

  “Seriously?” She cocked her head. “Shall I get my driver’s license?”

  He scoffed. “We would never use anything as easily falsified as a driver’s license. We use only the highest level of ID matching. It’s space age, really.”

  “Okay, do you need a drop of blood?”

  “Getting closer.”

  “You must be kidding.”

  He stopped speaking and flashed her a self-satisfied grin.

  “Well, what is it? My prize awaits!”

  “You must kiss the chef.”

  She shook her head. How obvious, and how foolish of her not to have realized where he was going. “How does that prove my identity?”

  “Sorry, ma’am, that complex mathematical algorithm is highly classified.”

  “Fine.” She had a plan.

  She stepped toward him, a breath away, and put her hands on his shoulders. He looked surprised she was playing along. She slowly moved in, but quickly shifted to his left cheek to plant a soft kiss.

  Lola moved back to face him, with her own smug grin for having cheated the system. He wasn’t smiling. He was staring at her mouth. Then his arm wrapped around her low back and he pressed her into him, a position that had become familiar to her.

  She brought her mouth to his and lingered at the surface of his lips, without moving, frozen, millimeters from a kiss. It was odd that he was not coming in toward her, even while his arm grew tighter around her body.

  She pressed in and he advanced. She moved her hands to cup his face. He was like a stallion just sprung from the pen, with an urgency she didn’t expect. He moved hungrily and deliberately at the same time.

  His mouth was sweet. Maybe the coconut, maybe the martini? She did not want to stop kissing this man. Reluctantly, she unhooked from him. So much for the coy kiss on the cheek.

  “Did I pass?”

  He blinked several times, with a look that read perplexed. “Yes.” He bobbed his head in slow motion. “The system short-circuited briefly but we’re back on line now. You get to claim your prize.” He backed away from her and stood in front of the large pot on the stove, as if he had forgotten what to do next.

  Lola couldn’t understand why
he was behaving so oddly, as if he’d never been kissed before. It was not what she was expecting.

  “Can I help? I can bring things in…”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Aidan? Can I help you bring the food to the table?”

  He jumped a little bit, and then smiled.

  Where had he been?

  “Yeah, that would be great. I'm, ummm, going to change. My shirt’s got food all over it. I’ll only be a minute. Be right back.”

  She stood, stunned. There was something strange about this man. But none of her intuition was revealing what it was.

  He returned to the kitchen quickly, so she was still in front of the stove, not having moved anything.

  He had changed into a heathered grey shirt and his jeans were different. Darker, less worn. Still breathtakingly sexy.

  “I’m back! Are you hungry? You must be hungry. I’ve made you work for your dinner.” He was talking fast.

  “It’s okay. I love winning.”

  He reached across her to pull the pot holders off the hook on the side of the cabinet and picked up the large red pot. His biceps flexed as his arms hoisted the heavy pot. He was right. She was hungry.

  She grabbed the bowl of rice from the counter and met him at the table. Instead of sitting across from each other he had placed the settings side by side along one edge of the rectangular table. It was a surprisingly small table, dwarfed in the large space. It was the table of someone who didn’t entertain large groups, or often.

  They both sat down, neither moving toward the food. He had gone quiet, in the same way as at the farmer’s market. What was going on?

  She raised her glass. “To the chef!” He touched the rim of his glass to hers and then put it down. He was definitely distracted by something. “Hey! It’s bad luck not to drink after a toast.”

  He looked down, scrunching his face. “Sorry,” he said picking up the glass again.

  “Is everything alright?” She really didn’t want to ask. Or to know.