by Lyra Parish
"Your total came to,"—she paused and glanced at the register. It read $87,248.63.
He lifted his eyebrow at her and pulled out a black American Express from his wallet. She looked down at the card, then back at him.
"A no-limit card," she said, smiling.
"That's not all I've got," he said and handed the girl a black business card with red lips on the back.
What the hell? Was he really doing this right now?
She looked down at the card and he continued, "If you're looking for a new job, give me a call."
And that's when my temper raged. He was not doing this with me right there. I walked to him, smiled, and wrapped my arm around his waist, publicly claiming him as mine, but he pushed my hand away. The girl lowered her eyes, placed the clothing in garment bags and handed them to Finnley.
"Here you are, Mr. Felton, and,"—she hesitated—"I may keep your offer in mind." She batted her long eyelashes toward him.
Now don't get me wrong, Finnley Felton was fucking sex on legs. With a single look, he could make any woman drop to her knees and beg to please him regardless of whether he wore a suit and tie or street clothes. Messy hair, long eyelashes, pouty lips, high cheekbones, and a strong jaw combined with smothering confidence were only a few attributes for one of the richest, most-fuckable CEOs under the age of thirty. Finnley was the definition of sex appeal. So, I couldn't help that jealousy flared inside of me. To top the situation off, she was cute. I wondered if another one of his Girls would be the one, the next me, and if I would be pushed aside since I was no longer a virgin.
He handed half of the black garment bags to me and walked furiously toward the exit. After shoving the clothes into the trunk, he slid behind the steering wheel and slammed the door shut. I followed.
"What the fuck was that?"
I looked over at him.
"I'm not sure if you've realize who the fuck I am or what the fuck it is I do for a living, but if you're going to be in my life, you'll need to figure it out quickly."
I wanted to yell at him. Tell him how ridiculous he was being, but I wouldn't. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"You don't want me touching you in public?"
"Glad we're on the same page."
"Wait just one damn second. What am I to you, Finn? What is it you want from me? Because the sooner I figure that out, the sooner I'll be on the same page."
"You're my best kept secret. So let's keep it that way."
Five
His words caught me off guard. Secret? I was nothing more than a fucking secret. Moments like these made me want to slap those beautiful features from his face. Anger boiled inside me, as it flared inside him, and together we were a hurricane of fuming emotions.
If we were to be a couple—wait, were we to be a couple? Or was I just a good fuck that now lived with him? Actually, I didn't know what he even thought or felt for me. I lived in some fucked-up fairy tale and thought everything would be perfect since Prince Charming took my virginity. I was mistaken.
When we arrived back at his house, I stormed inside and snatched the keys to the Honda from the counter.
"Where do you think you're fucking going?"
"Away."
I tried to walk past him, but he grabbed my arm and wouldn't let go. Not wanting to peer into his eyes, but doing it anyway, caused his features to soften.
"You can't go," he said.
"I can do whatever the fuck I want. You don't own me. All of this has been my choice and having that right doesn’t change now. My parents are dead, and I don't need new ones. Agreeing to move in with you was a lapse of fucking judgment, and I've changed my mind. I don’t want to be your secret little fuck. I won't."
He actually laughed, sarcastically, but it was still a laugh.
"Hold on. You've always done exactly as I've asked, so don't get pissy and act like you're running the show, Jennifer. You aren't. You never were. If you're to live with me, there are rules. Just as if you are an Elite. Rules that must be followed. My say is final, always. So let’s start with this one: you don't get to do whatever the fuck you want. I've got a business to run and despite your childish, ridiculous jealousy that decided to rear its ugly little head, I will not have you interrupting me while I'm recruiting. I'm not an idiot. I can see right through you. I know you, Miss Downs."
I opened my mouth to speak, but he interrupted me.
"The Elite is a part of me, and if you want to be the other part, you can't act that way. I will not choose between the two. I'm not keeping you here. I'm not forcing you to stay, but once you walk out that door, don't fucking come back."
Was that it? After one of the most sexually charged days of my life, would this be how it would end? I stood there and contemplated my next move. Evening was upon us and finding an apartment before dark would be impossible. I would rent a hotel room and search tomorrow. But did I really want to leave? Did I want to walk away from everything that Finnley and I had shared… whatever it was?
"I occasionally hand-pick my Girls. If I see something in a person that others would enjoy, I will slip her a business card. Yes, I'm aware that women want to fuck me, and that I can act a certain way and make them do whatever I please. But I didn't want to fuck her, regardless of what you think."
He opened the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of water, and walked to the living room. I stood there, silently, trying to decide whether to stay or leave. While contemplating what the fuck I was doing, I smoothed the sweater dress on my legs. There was only one answer, and we both knew what it was.
"I won't be moving in, Mr. Felton. I'm sorry," I said, and closed my fist around the keys then softly closed the door leading to the garage. My heart raced, and I didn't know if I would really be able to walk away from him, but somehow I did. As I sat in the Honda, I thought about going back to him, but instead I reversed out of the garage and drove myself to the Bellagio.
Funny wasn’t it? That I ended up at that hotel after all of it. Life had really gone full circle.
The same woman that checked me in a few months ago happily handed me a key to a room. I robotically wheeled the suitcase to the elevator. My mind spun, and I didn't know when it would stop. I tried to think back and replay exactly what had happened and where our day made a wrong turn. Did I overreact a little? Maybe.
Finn didn't call. He didn't stop me. Although I wanted him to stand up and demand that I not leave, I knew he wouldn't.
It would be easy to do whatever Finn said. I could pretend to be his housewife, sleep in his bed every night, and allow him to take care of me, but pretending in private and pretending in public were two different things. Since my parents' death, I vowed to live like tomorrow would never come, and I didn't want to waste my days faking my feelings. I didn't want to act like we weren't together. It seemed there were lots of things I didn’t want.
Leaving was my decision, one that I made on my own.
Hopefully Finnley finally understood that he was no longer the boss of me, because Jennifer Downs did whatever the hell she wanted, even if it was just to prove a fucking point.
Yesterday seemed like a crazy dream, and I halfway expected to wake up at the house with the Girls, back in my bed, which I had become so accustomed to falling asleep in. A part of me wanted to warp back to a time when relationship complications didn't exist, where the hardest part of the day consisted of picking which shoes to wear, or Elite training.
After I dressed in a plain shirt, blue jeans, and flats, I grabbed my phone and searched online for apartments. I would need to find a place before the end of the day, but every picture I looked at was unimpressive. I wouldn't settle. The next place I moved to would need to be nearly perfect and close to downtown. If I were to stay in Vegas, it would have to be worth my while.
The money from selling my parents’ house stayed untouched in my bank account. Money wasn't an issue and leaving wasn't an option. A part of the city reeled me in, hook, line and sinker style, and I planned to stay.
When I opened the door to leave, I saw the back of someone I didn't expect to see. He turned around, and his crystal blue eyes stared into mine. My breath caught, and I couldn't speak.
"Hi," Luke said.
"Hi."
We stood staring at one another.
"How did you know I was here?"
"Hmm. You left Texas and came straight to the Bellagio. You left The Elite, so this seemed like the only logical place you'd be. I called the hotel, and they gave me your room number. You aren't very hard to track down."
I smiled because he was right, and he returned the gesture.
"Do you want to grab a coffee? I'd like to talk."
Awkwardness lingered.
It was now or never, I supposed, so I agreed to have coffee. Coffee was innocent. I couldn't refuse him while he stood with that sweet smile on his face. It killed me. Somehow, I knew this would happen, that I would become another one of Luketon's terrible statistics, another mark on his wall of women that broke his heart.
"Yeah. Sure. I'd like that."
I slid the hotel key into my back pocket and followed him down the stairs. As many nights as I had stayed at the Bellagio, I'd never used them. I was only on the fourth floor, so it was no big deal. I needed to calm the fuck down, but I couldn't. A wave of guilt swept over me.
Once outside, the cool breeze hit my face and body. I shivered and crossed my arms. Luke took off his jacket and placed it over my shoulders with a smile. Always a gentleman. His warmth still filled the sleeves, and his smell covered my body. God his smell... like fresh Irish Spring. I actually missed it.
A quaint little café on the corner acted as a refuge from the crisp air. The big windows had a countdown to Christmas with fake snow sprayed across the panes. The little bell rang when Luke opened the door. The smell of roasted coffee beans immediately filled my nose. A grinding espresso machine added to the quiet chatter and ambient music in the room. Strangers sipped from tall white cups, and Christmas decorations lined the counters and shelves against the walls. Seriously, we had over a month left, but then again, some places started counting down the days before Halloween.
God, I loved a nice coffee on a winter day. Triple Mocha Latte in a "for here" mug with whip, hells yes. Without thinking, I opened my phone and read the last few text messages Luke sent while he ordered his drink. I couldn't seem to forgive myself for what I'd done to him. Knowing that all women treated him badly, and everyone he had ever been in love with left him, made me feel horrible. I didn't want to become another reason why he didn't trust women.
Our coffees slid across the bar, and the barista yelled our order: light mocha with skim milk and a black coffee. I never understood black coffee. How could someone drink it with no cream or sugar, with nothing fun or delicious? I hoped after I told him about Finnley and me, he wouldn't act like his coffee: bitter.
The cream made a heart in the mug as it melted together with the warm liquid. Once we sat down by the windows close to the door and watched the people walking on the streets, I twirled my little straws to pass the time. He finally broke the silence.
"So how have you been? Haven't talked in a few days."
"Good. Great, actually. You know, I was fired."
"Well maybe you can strive to become an accountant like you wanted."
I swallowed, and my nerves overtook me. I couldn't tell him, not with him staring and smiling. The more I looked at him, the more I saw Finnley in his features. They were both beautiful and brilliant, with a similar face shape and full lips. Where Finn's eyes were green, Luke's were blue. Their hair, though different colors, had the same texture, but Finn's was shaggy, while Luke's wasn't. Their accents, sense of fashion, and even laughs resembled one another. How dense was I to not recognize they were related, considering the amount of time I spent with both of them?
"Jennifer."
I moved my eyes from the passing people on the streets to Luke.
"I know about you and Felton."
My heart dropped, and I thought I might be sick. I couldn't do this, not right now, not in public. The one thing I hated most was being blindsided, being put on the spot, and right then, at that moment, I wanted to do nothing more than run away. But it wouldn't have solved anything. I knew that.
"You know what, exactly?"
The truth that Jesse thought she knew was a lie, and I had to know that Luke's truth was different from hers, even if it would hurt hearing it from him.
"I know that you had sex with him. I know that you were let go, and about the lie Finn told to keep you out of the limelight. I know that you know he is my brother, and I regret not being the one to tell you. I wanted to, but I never found the right moment. Basically, I know it all, and I'm sorry."
Here he was, sitting in front of me after I'd crushed him, apologizing to me. I closed my eyes and then sucked in a deep breath.
"Don't apologize to me, Luke. If anything, I should be dropping to my knees and begging for your forgiveness. I'm so sorry, you have no reason to apologize to me."
"I'm not upset with you. But I want you to tell me yourself that you don't have feelings for me. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me because I don't believe Finnley, unless it was all a lie."
"Luke."
He leaned over the table and whispered, "Tell me. I want to hear you say it."
"I can't tell you that. I care about you, a lot. I want you to be happy... But I know I can't fully give myself to you the way you want me to."
"Do you love him?"
This would be the second time that I was asked this question. If love didn't matter that much, then why did the two of them insist on asking me about it.
"I don't think I know what love is, Luke. I like Finnley, yet sometimes I dislike him. I can't tell you if it's love. I don't know."
"Do you love me?"
Hurt spread across his face. I heard the angst in his tone and watched his muscles tense. The emptiness in his voice made me cringe. Luketon Brand was Finnley Felton's brother. How could he ever forgive me after I looked him in the eyes and told him I wanted him, and then went to his brother? My feelings were a writhing jumbled mess of knots and tangles, and I couldn't work them out. Not right now, not with Luke in front of me.
"Luke."
"It was all a lie, wasn't it? All of it. Every moment we spent together was nothing more than a game. Pretend. I really thought we had more than that, Jennifer, regardless of The Elite."
"I never faked anything with you."
I couldn't stand to see him hurt this way and to know that I caused it. We sat in silence, and I removed his jacket from my shoulders. The burning in my chest traveled up my body, and I almost gave in to the sadness as I squeezed my eyes shut. Not even the most perfect cup of coffee could make me happy. Nothing could make me happy, and I knew it wouldn't hurt this way if I didn't care or if I didn't have some sort of feelings for him.
"I thought we had something. I felt something when I was with you. I thought you might be the one for me, and I was falling in love. You had the key. You threw it away."
I sat there, unable to say a word. My heart hurt. His heart hurt. It was inevitable that someone would feel like shit in the end, and it should have been me. And only me. Every action had a consequence, and as much as I wished I could take some of it back, I couldn't. I caused this pain. I deserved to feel like a piece of shit. His words caused my world to spin and crash down, as I remembered the tattoo, Paris, and how Finnley had replaced all of those memories with himself.
"I'm sorry. What can I say?"
"There's nothing you can say."
Luke snatched the jacket from the back of my chair and jerked the door open. The bell slammed against the top of the door and everyone turned and looked. I didn't stop to apologize, but instead went after him.
"Luke. Please."
He kept walking as I stood on the street hollering his name. People stared at me as tears welled in my eyes. I'd hoped that out of the two brothers I had made the right ch
oice. But as I stood there, I realized that I hadn’t, and now I had neither one. Life was never easy, and everything seemed even more complicated now. Finally, I understood the complexity of the situation at hand. I had created a mess.
I opened my phone and focused on the last text message from Luke in my inbox.
Paris in two weeks.
Damn it. I needed to get ahold of myself and stop dwelling on the what-ifs and what could be's. Those would drive me insane if I let them. As I stared at the screen, I texted him:
I cared about you and still do. Everything I ever said to you was the truth. I'm sorry.
I didn't expect to receive a message back, and didn't get one. The walk back to the hotel seemed to last for centuries, as I replayed every word Luke said. Once I felt like the biggest ass in the entire world, I crawled into bed and pulled the blanket to my chin. The way Luke treated me was justified by my actions, and I deserved to be without either one of them. The feeling of being completely and utterly alone stalked me in the shadows and followed me around. Lady Luck hated me right now. She had the right, too, because even I hated me.
Six
Instead of sulking all day, I made an appointment with the best damn real estate agent in Vegas. Feeling sorry for myself would get me nowhere fast and that wasn't me. I had to pick up and move on, and try to keep myself busy before the guilt consumed me.
The man that showed me around various townhomes had a knack for fashion, with his perfectly wrapped scarf, leather shoes, and Versace man bag.
After the third walk through of a place that I was not feeling, Mr. Metro made a few phone calls, and we were on our way to view another. I was being that customer, the one that agents hated, the one that would never be happy.
Only a mile from downtown sat a cute townhome with a shady brick sidewalk that led to a red door. When he opened it, I gasped. Tall ceilings, wooden floors, and fashionable colors flowed together nicely on the walls: light blues and greens, and even beiges.
"Each one of these townhomes has its own interior brick courtyard with copper gutters. Perfect for those small dinner parties or just sitting outside to read a book. Although the exterior is connected, each has its own set of stairs as well, and privacy measures in the back."