Third Degree (The Lust List: Devon Stone #3)

by Mira Bailee

  The all too familiar sound makes me lose my train of thought.

  Rhys looks past me and down the sidewalk. “I think you have company.”

  “How many?”

  Rhys picks up his glass of water and peeks over the rim nonchalantly as he takes a sip. “I see three.”

  I groan. “Sorry. They show up out of nowhere—their cameras nosing around my business. I can’t imagine what it’s like for real celebrities.”

  “I have an idea.” Rhys sets down his water and leans in closer. “You want to give them a show?”

  “Do you not know me at all? Of course, I don’t. I want them to disappear and leave me alone. It’s bad enough they’re going to make up rumors about us now.”

  “That’s my point.”

  I raise an eyebrow. Apparently, I’ve missed something entirely.

  Rhys stands up and offers me his hand. I hesitate, then take it. He yanks me up to my feet and wraps his free arm around my waist.

  “My darling, Olivia.” He projects his voice unnaturally and with a misplaced accent to be sure the paps hear him loud and clear. “Be mine forever.”

  And with that, he bends me back in a dramatic dip and plants a big, sloppy kiss on my cheek near my mouth. From this angle, the cameras would make it look like we’re making out. It’s so ridiculous. He straightens us back up, and I smack him in the chest, laughing hysterically.

  “Oh my god. You just made their day.”

  Rhys sits back down and goes back to eating as if nothing happened. “It’s kind of fun screwing with them. We should hang out more often.”

  I smooth out my clothes and sit. I feel my phone vibrating in my purse and pull it out to see who’s calling. It’s Natalia. I apologize to Rhys as I answer.

  “This is awful, Olivia. We’re having a major catastrophe right now.”

  She sounds like she’s in an empty room, her voice echoing against the walls.

  “Okay. What’s wrong?” And why call me?

  “We’re supposed to film a TV spot tomorrow for YOUTHelp. It’s this mix of real-life stories and sponsorship name-drops to encourage more donations after the gala. Nolan Aries was all set to film it. He’s stuck in New York right now working on film pre-production or something. He was scheduled to fly back tonight, and now he can’t because of some executive meeting, which means I have no one to put in front of the camera, unless you’ll agree to do it. Please, please, please.”

  “You want me to go on TV?” Is she out of her mind? I gulp my water as I try to think up the perfect excuse not to. Rhys overheard me and now his interest is piqued too.

  He mouths the word, “TV?”

  I move the phone away from my mouth to respond to him. “No way in hell.” I return the receiver to my ear and listen as Natalia continues to beg and tell me how easy it’ll be.

  “I’m sorry, Natalia. That’s just not a good idea. Don’t you have another guest of honor who can fill the spot?”

  “Nolan was the best option, period. You’re the second best.”

  Great, second best. I want to laugh, but she’s freaking serious about me going on TV. Um, no thank you.

  Rhys nudges my foot under the table. “Do it. Come on.”

  I shake my head no, and he snatches the phone from my grasp. “Hello, Natalia is it? This is Mr. Everton, Olivia’s personal life advisor. She’d love to do the TV spot … yep … okay, ten o’clock? … Sounds great. She’ll see you then … What’s that? … Mhmm … Yeah, she’s definitely taken care of that … Great … No, thank you.” He hangs up.

  “What did you just do? I can’t go in front of a camera.”

  He hands me back my phone. “Oh please, you just pounced on me and made out with me in front of three cameras.”

  “You’re insane.” I’m having trouble feeling the anxiety with him making me laugh. “If I look like a fool, I’m coming after you.”

  “You’ll be fine. You’re meeting her Friday at Coastal View High School at 10:00 a.m. Don’t be late. Oh, and she asked to confirm you’d talked to Devon and everything was all set for Saturday, which, of course, I told her you’ve got it all taken care of.”

  My jaw hangs open for a moment before I snap my mouth closed. I clench my teeth. Yeah, I’ve totally got that taken care of. Other than seeing Devon, talking to him, and asking him. Dammit, I need to meet with him. I can’t put it off any longer.

  When Rhys and I finally say goodbye, I feel like I’m parting with a treasured piece of my past.

  “I’ll see you soon, right?” I say.

  “Saturday. We’ll be there. It’ll be great.”

  He gives me a long hug, and I see my temporary driver pull up. I turn to leave, but Rhys stops me.

  “Hey, Hollywood.” He stares for a moment as if he’s trying to form the words before he can say them. “I miss him too.”

  I hurry to the limo before I can start crying.

  The problem with taking a complex, secret route to Devon’s condo one time is now I don’t know where he actually lives. I want to get it over with, but the best I can do is send him a text message and wait for him to tell me where and when we can talk. I have to swallow my pride as I type each word, but the gala is for a good cause. We can both act like mature adults for one evening. It doesn’t mean I’ve completely forgiven him, and it doesn’t mean we’re back together for good. It’s one night, two people, some Hollywood glamour, and loved ones being honored. He’ll understand the boundaries, I’m sure.

  I have the limo driver drop me back off at the apartment, and I practically fall through the front door, the garment bags and linen box from Caly’s studio throwing me off balance.

  “Whoa there.” Maddie jumps up from the couch to help me. “What is all this?” She takes everything from my arms, and then almost drops everything anyway. “And look at you. You look amazing.”

  She dumps it all onto a couch, and I drop down next to the pile. “I’ve had…a day.”

  “I can see that.” She runs her fingers over one of my curls. “This is photo shoot quality.”

  I laugh and push her hand away. “It’s no big deal. My hair had to be done for Saturday. And I went to a dress fitting. Calypso Day is making me a gown as we speak.”

  “Calypso? Seriously? She’s like the predicted up-and-comer right now.”

  “She implied that.” I point at the stack of things next to me. “She sent me home stuff from her new line asking me to wear it.”

  Maddie looks at me wide eyed. “All those times I’ve let you borrow my clothes, you’re aware I will be hijacking these from you, right?”

  “You’re more than welcome to, you know that.”

  “I do. Now are you ready for the unveiling?” she sings.

  “Be my guest.” I’m exhausted. My heavy eyes want nothing more than a nap, but Maddie’s squeals of approval awaken my curiosity.

  She’s pulled the lid from the round box and is holding up a pair of fingerless gloves embellished with tiny beads.

  “These are amazing.”

  She sets them aside and pulls out delicate headbands in earth tone colors, colorful scarves meant for fashion not function, and a sexy, studded belt.

  “You’ve hit the jackpot, woman.” She turns to the bags next. Unzipping the first, we find that it doesn’t hold one, but several blouses and chic tops. Caly has no idea the favor she’s done for me. How could I pay her back? A thank you note clearly does not suffice.

  My phone alerts me to an incoming message.

  Mark’s out front. See you soon.

  Devon sent his driver to get me? A simple time and place would’ve been more than enough. And the blunt message. What am I supposed to make of that?

  “I have to go meet Devon. Tell him about the gala and all.”

  She opens another bag and looks through it. “Before you go, change into this.”

  Maddie pulls out a sleeveless dress with a short, asymmetrical skirt. It’s intricate white lace, layered over a skin tone silk. Casual yet undeniably sex
y. Devon will love it, but it could only sabotage the message I’m trying to relay. Oh, what the hell? It’s really cute.

  I change into it and leave, meeting Mark in the parking lot.

  “Nice to see you again,” he calls to me in the backseat.

  “You too. Thank you for chauffeuring me around…again.”

  About twenty minutes later, Mark pulls up in front of Beauchamp Towers, an insanely ritzy hotel. I am so underdressed. Why would Devon pick this place?

  “He’ll meet you in the bar,” Mark tells me.

  “Thanks.” A valet attendant opens the door for me, and I step out, trying to gather some confidence.

  I walk into a large, marble foyer and marvel at the luxury. Straight ahead, double doors stand open as several employees haul wooden chairs inside. Next to the door a sign reads YOUTHelp Foundation and my heart skips a beat. This is where the gala will be? How beautiful. To the right, another door leads into the hotel lounge. I’m guessing this is the bar where I’ll meet Devon. As I get closer, I spot him through the windows. He sits in a tall stool across from a bartender—both men laughing. A shock sweeps through me at the sight of him smiling, looking so at-ease and happy in a t-shirt and jeans. His dark hair is perfectly disheveled, and he’s clean-shaven—did he do that for me? A pint of beer sits before him, and he glances down at his watch. His gaze goes from the time to the door. He’s waiting for me.

  When he sees me, he freezes in place. Hell, all of time freezes with it. His eyes lock on mine, and the lust behind his gaze sends a chill down my spine. The intensity of it hypnotizes me, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. There’s too much distance between us.

  I grab the door handle and open it. Let’s do this.

  I walk in, and Devon stands up. He takes his beer and approaches me.

  “Hi,” I say. “Thank you for—”

  “Shh.” He holds a finger up to tell me to wait a moment. His eyes take me in, scanning me from head to toe. He walks in a circle around me, evaluating me. My cheeks warm, and I hope no one in here is watching this awkward display. Devon completes his rotation and stands close to me. “You look incredible.”

  I giggle and look down. “Thanks. I had to meet up with people to get ready for the gala. They did all this.” I emphasize the “this” with a long hand motion from my hair to my hips, which gets Devon to check me out again.

  His interest in me is a relief. He wants me. What will he do to get me?

  Devon’s hand swipes a strand of my curled hair behind my ear. “Why don’t you find us a seat, and I’ll get you a drink?”

  I head to a quiet corner and sit down. Devon follows a couple minutes later, setting down a bright pink drink in front of me. Instead of taking the other bench across the booth, he sits close to me on the one side. I’m reminded of our first meetings and the way the touch of our hips made me giddy like a schoolgirl. Even now, the few layers of fabric separating us, I have to resist the urge to scoot closer.

  I need to get right to the point and not let these feelings linger too long. “I need you to be my boyfriend.”

  A wide grin spreads across Devon’s face. I could’ve worded that better. My entire intention was to avoid sending the wrong mess—

  His mouth crushes into mine, his tongue plunging in and dancing with my own. I’m overtaken by his taste. His smell. His hand finds my face, and I nuzzle against it. The other combs through my hair and grips my neck from behind.

  When he pulls away, I gasp to catch my breath. “No. I’m sorry. Let me try again.” This time, I explain the gala and how I’m a guest of honor—we’re guests of honor, since it was made clear we needed to be a package deal.

  “So you need me to act like your date?” Devon asks, sounding slightly disappointed, slightly amused.

  “I need you to be my date. Things aren’t over between us. At least, I hope they aren’t. We can still be a couple, but…well, you know. We have some work to do.”

  “Then why not take your gay buddy?”

  “My what?” Oh yeah, Rhys. The tabloids. The fake kiss. The paparazzi work fast. “Wait. How do you know he’s gay?”

  “Please, after all the times I’ve kissed you. That angle would probably land my lips right…” Instead of saying it, or pointing or something, he leans over and kisses that same spot to the side of my mouth. His kiss is much more genuine than Rhys’s theatrics, and goose bumps rise along my skin. “Plus, you were laughing. If a random guy really kissed you, you’d probably beat the crap out of him.”

  “I’m glad you saw through it.” Imagine how he would’ve reacted if he’d believed it was real. “But again, how’d you know he’s gay?”

  “Because if a straight guy had an opportunity to kiss you, he’d do it right.”

  My cheeks warm and I shift my gaze to the cherry floating in my cocktail. “So…will you go with me to the gala?”

  “On one condition.”

  I raise an eyebrow. There’s always something in it for Devon. What does he want this time? His sly grin tells me it won’t just be agreeing to a dance.

  “We have a penthouse in this hotel. It’s pretty great.”

  Mhmm. I’m sure it is.

  “After the gala. I want you to go with me up there.”

  See? Always making trouble.

  He continues, “Just you…” He covers my hand with his own and traces a line on my skin from my middle knuckle to my wrist. I clench my fist to contain a shiver. “And me…The night of the gala. I want us to—”

  “Okay, stop. Come on. You know where we left things. It’s not really appropriate to—”

  “To talk? Damn, Olivia. That’s all I was going to say. I want us to talk.” He drinks from his beer. “You have such a dirty mind,” he tells me, his eyes narrowed to imply he knows exactly how that all came across, and it’s how he meant it.

  “I’m the dirty one. Yes, I can agree to talking. I think it’ll be good timing. Plus, we’ll both be all dressed up. What better for a serious talk than to have two people who look great?” His subtle jokes are way better, but I still laugh at my own.

  “You always look great. Dress or,” he runs his fingers under the fabric of my straps, my shoulder tingling from his touch. He lifts the strap away from my skin just enough to make it feel naked, “no dress.”

  The last time I stepped foot in a high school was my final day of senior year. When I walked out of that hallway, I left it all behind. The school. The people. The entire town. You could say I was running away. But I couldn’t breathe there. I couldn’t face the same small town people day-after-day, so when I got my chance, I fled. Even my parents grew distant as I moved away to start my own life. Weekly phone calls turned into holiday calls. Then the holiday conversations gave way to yearly birthday calls. Now, a rare email was all that kept us in touch, filled with synthetic niceties and exaggerated happiness. According to those messages, the entire Margot family was doing fantastic. New jobs, advanced opportunities, great relationships, and the charade went on and on.

  So you could say walking into Coastal View High School on a busy Friday morning to shoot a television spot for YOUTHelp was a little more than surreal. They’d opted to film in the middle of a school day and had releases signed for all the students. Unlike filing with an artificial background or empty school, Natalia explained how this would be more personal, more realistic.

  I convinced Maddie to come with me for moral support. Well, we all know Maddie. She didn’t take much convincing at all.

  “I have to be filmed for a TV thing, can you co—”

  “Oh, I’m there! Think I can get in the shot?”

  She and I walking into the main hall, it’s just like traveling back in time. The clusters of students. The incoherent medley of a hundred conversations going on at once. The lockers and backpacks and binders. For a second, I forget how old I am and feel the slight panic of not knowing where my next class is.

  We step into the office to sign in as visitors and find Natalia waiting for us.
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  “My girl!” She rushes to my side and embraces me in a hug. “You look gorgeous.”

  She doesn’t acknowledge Maddie at all, which is weird. Then again, I didn’t ask permission for Maddie to come. And Natalia’s job is to focus on me.

  “If you’re ready, you can follow me to the gym.”

  Natalia leads us to the other end of the long hallway. A few eyes turn toward us, but for the most part, we’re not attracting any attention. We aren’t recognizable, and I’m almost tempted to use it as an argument to not go through with this entire thing. Natalia, notice how no one knows me. You don’t want me to be the spokesperson for this public service announcement.

  But I follow quietly as though she’s an administrator leading me to detention.

  We get to the gym doors, when I hear my name called out behind me. There goes my point about no one knowing me. Maddie and Natalia continue inside as I turn around…and it’s like the sea of bodies have parted to make way for a person who definitely is recognizable.

  Devon’s walking toward me. Dressed in an untucked gray button down and dark jeans, every eye is on him. He plasters on his red carpet smile as he accepts hugs from squealing teenage girls and nods toward those too shy to approach him. It’s like a bizarre movie moment when the dreamy guy finally admits his feelings for the nerdy girl in front of the whole school. If that makes me the nerdy girl, I accept the title with honor.

  Once he’s close enough, I ask, “What are you doing here?”

  He shakes someone’s hand and continues toward me, placing a hand on each of my shoulders. “If I know anything about you, you’re freaking out right now. So I came to—”

  “Take my place? Oh please do!”

  He laughs. “No way. You’re going to do this. I know you can.”

  “Fine. But if I know anything about you, it’s that you hate all this attention.” I nod toward all the students behind him, still staring our way.

  “You know me very well. But it’s a small price to pay to make sure you don’t run away from this.”

  “Oh thanks.”

  He kisses the top of my head and ushers me into the gym. Inside, lights are set up at different angles, illuminating a tall stool sitting under a fat microphone. Two cameras are set up, pointed at the stool, and another is on wheels off to the side, focused on nothing specific. I turn to take in the chaos of the setup crew and spot Maddie heading my way. I look around for Natalia—knowing I should formerly introduce her to Devon—but she’s nowhere to be found.