I popped one more bite of food into my mouth, put my plates in the sink, even though they were plastic, and ducked behind the privacy curtain to find my own clothes, put them on and dart out the door before he noticed. The alarm did ding annoyingly as I opened the door, and I could feel him looking over at me, so I ran.
It was an idiot move, but I knew I couldn’t get down the elevator without a key so, even though I was exhausted beyond belief, I sprinted down a billion flights of stairs and nearly passed out when I hit the last step. I darted out the door and found myself in a back alley. I didn’t have any time at all, so I sprinted to the next block over and hailed a cab. As soon as I closed the door to the car, all the air left my lungs, and for a moment, I felt relief until a text from Alec came through.
What the hell just happened?
I panicked, so I took a moment to breathe. When I had an ounce of wits about me again, I texted back.
I completely forgot I had a photoshoot today. YIKES. Call you tonight. Thanks for a great time.
My heart was pounding hard when his follow up text came through.
Can you even walk?
Barely, I responded. Hopping in the shower. Talk soon.
I made reservations at Chateau Reve 7:00.
What the hell? No ... no, no, no.
No. No public. Um ... right? How about Chez Blanc, better known as your white ass house. I’ll call you.
All lies. I was just talking fiction.
Fine.
Was all I got back. I wasn’t sure if he was happy or not. A one-word text was hard to judge. I didn’t care, or rather I cared too much, but couldn’t. The cab dropped me off at home, and I walked up to our loft. Luckily, both of my roommates were at work, so I snuggled into my tiny room in the corner of the second story, took off my clothes, and dumped them on the floor, and gratefully tucked myself into my own bed. I switched off my phone and placed it on the nightstand, hoping to sleep the day away.
I was tired, sore, and so very confused about Alec and our night together. Part of me wanted to rush back to him, but a larger part of me wanted to run away forever. I decided I’d set an alarm for six o’clock and figure it out then; it was already almost noon. I set my phone down and reached for the old-school alarm clock I used because I liked to turn off technology and shut out the world.
As soon as it was set, I passed out. I didn’t wake up until there was a knock on my door.
“We ordered Chinese,” Avery said softly while opening the door to my little nook.
“Huh?” I rolled over and barely peeled open my eyes.
“Maddy and I thought you might be hungry. It’s like nine.” She was sweet and quiet. “You must have had some night last night.”
I was sore and ached all over. Shit, then I remembered Alec. He must have been trying to call. Well, I had an excuse, he wrecked me.
“I think I’m too tired to eat.” I closed my eyes again.
“Okay, we got you some hot green beans and kung pao chicken. I’ll just leave it in the fridge, and you can nuke it when you wake up in the middle of the night rarin’ to go.”
I tried to look at her, but everything hurt.
“I love you,” I sang in a sleepy tone.
“You better,” was all she said as she shut the door.
The next time I woke up, it was another knock, but this one was more distant and a lot less sweet.
“Is Kylie here?” I heard faintly in the distance.
“She’s asleep.” Madison was in bulldog mode. “She’ll call you later, Alec.”
Somehow, I knew he would find my address and come over, but I trusted my girls to keep him away. Though I was worried he’d barge in on me, I knew Avery and Madison would call the cops if he set one foot inside our loft.
“I’ve been calling all day. She missed our date. I need to talk to her.” He seemed extremely irritated but still polite.
“Whatever you did to her last night was enough. I’m sure she’ll call you later. Have a good night.” The creaking door was about to close when I heard Alec again.
“I’ll come in and wait for her …” His dominant voice sent chills down my spine.
“No, she’ll call you when she wakes up.” Madison then slammed the door.
My heart fell a little, but it was for the best. Getting involved with Alec was too dangerous. I couldn’t sleep anymore, but I didn’t want to get out of bed. Instead, I fired up my phone to face the horror that must have unfolded over the course of the day.
12 text messages and 41 missed calls. Alec
I hope you are able to get some rest - Alec
I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re driving me nuts. Call me.
Chez Blanc is ready. Where are you?
Are you okay?
I’m getting worried.
I hope you’re either still at your shoot or asleep.
I called your modeling agency; you didn’t have a photoshoot today.
We need to talk
Kylie Morgan Konslavsky, I have your address
I’m coming over
I’m at your door
Your roommate just kicked me out, so I’m leaving. Call me if you’re interested in more of what we shared last night. I know I said I only want one night, but I haven’t had enough of you.
Text me anytime tonight. If I don’t hear from you ... I won’t be texting again.
It took every ounce of my willpower not to call him. I read and reread his texts over and over again. I wanted to just call back and tell him he’d wrung me out, but I was ready for more of his crazy intensity. Already after one night, I was hooked. I decided the best plan of action would be to just not respond and let it all drift away. Sad and disappointed with life, I crawled into the shower on the second floor and tried to revive myself. It was ten, and I could hear the TV downstairs; the girls were binge-watching The Office.
All I wanted to do was join them, scarf my Chinese food, and forget Alec Blair. I crawled into the shower, and the hot water felt good on my tired ravaged body. I stayed there until the water went cold. Of course, our ancient upstairs shower was nothing like the bathroom at Alec’s place, but I didn’t care. I was so happy to be in my own space, safe from the chaotic feelings Alec created in me. As I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and put on cozy clothes, I saw it. Next to my toothbrush holder and a full glass of water was a birth control pill. I remembered it was Valentine’s Day. I was going to take myself out that day. I had a casting call and a meeting with my manager, and I had to pretend I was going to the party—somewhere in all of that running around I had forgotten to take my pill, which made the third time that week.
I was an idiot. The clinic for the morning after pill was twelve blocks away and was closed. I could have found an emergency place, but the truth was, down deep inside I didn’t believe in it. If I’d fucked up, I’d deal with it. I had money. I would worry about it later. I had only two goals. Eat, and avoid Alec at all costs. As hard as it was going to be, I planned to never see the man ever again. If I was pregnant, I’d have the baby. For me, there was no other choice.
Chapter 12
Alec
Goddamn it. It took everything in my will not to text or call her again. I went over the scenario in my head repeatedly. I took the call from my office, and I was looking at the spreadsheet they sent me, then I heard the door click. I thought for a minute it was the bathroom door, but when I got off the call, Kylie had vanished. I ran out looking for her, panicked. I texted and got no response, and for a minute it seemed as if she’d completely disappeared.
I then spiraled into an obsession, trying to find her, which led me to her door and her pesky roommates who wouldn’t allow me in, which wasn’t surprising. It was so frustrating. It was nearly eleven o’clock at night, and I still hadn’t heard from her. Of course, I knew she was alive, but all I could gather was that I scared the shit out of her. Frightening a woman into not coming back into my life would have worked for me with most other people, but not Kyli
e. There was more to explore there …
I did get one text from her the following morning, and I almost smashed my phone into the wall.
Thank you for the memories, Alec. I’ll never look at ice cream the same way again ... or turkey for that matter. Enjoy your life, find something you love. - Kylie
Fuck her, fuck her … fuck her. Damn, I wanted to fuck her! I paced back and forth in my penthouse thinking of ways to turn it all around, but there wasn’t really anything that didn’t look too desperate. Instead, I figured, she was Kylie Morgan, I could find her. She and I ran in the same circles. I found my inner peace knowing that Kylie and I would be crossing paths again, and the next time I got her in my penthouse, I wasn’t going to let her leave.
For the rest of the week, not much new came out about Kylie. She’d been seen with Dean again ... blah blah blah. She had an editorial in vogue that fueled a few of my fantasies. This time she was wearing couture clothing by Yuan Shiliang, an avant-guard Chinese designer and again, her fucking tits were out for the world to see.
I thought about how sweet and soft her nipples were, and that gorgeous little mole on her left breast. I savored the memory of how they hardened at the slightest touch. Her breasts were pert but so tiny as was the rest of her body. Almost too tiny; when I got her back, I’d make it my mission to get her to eat. Surely a model could have a little more meat on their bones. The good thing was Kylie didn’t seem hung up about food, just didn’t, at least in our circumstances, have the opportunity to eat much of it.
Weeks passed. My need for her became a ravenous ache. I wouldn’t stoop to desperation, but I did make a point of showing up in her life, which seemed to be taking a turn. It had been almost two months since I’d slept with Kylie, and she’d changed. The Kylie I’d met in the bar was always in the media for attending parties and drinking Starbucks with random guys looking fucked over and sex ravaged. There were countless pictures of her in exotic locals wearing nearly nothing with a cocktail in hand. Though there were enough of those pictures to fill volumes, none of them were the Kylie whose nose crinkled and breathing escalated when she aroused or giggled. She didn’t really even drink, at least hadn’t the night we were together.
Her pictures now had her wearing more clothes. Gone were the glorious little titties she so loved to show the world. She had also started a nonprofit for foster teens. My cold heart opened a crack when I read that. More of the photos were of her with her girlfriends and charity events supporting her nonprofit. By the time I saw her at the premiere of Cold Hard Truth, the newest big studio action-thriller where she had a cameo role as a secret agent, she had been photographed more times in classy business suits than out of them.
Our meeting was too brief. She was being photographed going inside the theater, and I happened to pass her as I walked in.
“I didn’t know you could act.”
She heard my voice and turned to face me.
Initially, she freaked out but recovered quickly as she smiled.
“Good evening, Alec. We’ll see if I can act.” She laughed, though I could tell she was very uncomfortable or sad, I wasn’t sure.
“Well, I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen you fake it.” She looked panicked for a moment but again laughed it off.
“Enjoy the movie, Alec.” She was all business as cameras started flashing again.
I went into the theater, but she didn’t ... she disappeared again.
I continued to follow her in the media and whenever I could in public. In the seven weeks after our night together, her persona had shifted so much, there was very little of the old Kylie left, but what the internet memorialized. She was working her androgynous look and presented an image of masculinity, power, and an exotic sensuality with her make-up. She had cut her hair short and at first, it pissed me off that she hadn’t consulted me about it, but who was I to her? One night ... that’s all.
My interest in her had become an obsession. If she was trying to hook me by becoming someone I could marry rather than just fuck, she was doing exceedingly well. The five hundred dollar a seat charity dinner for a foster youth non-profit organization she was attending as a guest speaker was a nominal price for the opportunity to see her again.
I sat with my office mates as I bought a table. The investment bankers and their assistants didn’t seem thrilled to be there, but the food was incredible, and they all warmed up as Killah took the stage and brought the house down. I scanned the room for Kylie. Not one single person in the ballroom even remotely had her level of beauty. I thought perhaps she’d canceled, and my heart shattered. But just as Killah had finished his rousing performance, I saw her. She walked onto the stage wearing a gorgeous emerald green evening gown. Finally, something that wasn’t a designer men’s suit and chunky shoes.
The neckline dipped to her navel and my cock stirred thinking of how easy it would be to slip the thin swath of cloth away from her breasts and enjoy the feast my starving mouth craved. More, she looked confident and beautiful. Heat flashed through me when Killah hugged her with sincerity and her smile ... God. She was transforming before our eyes, from a playgirl partier to an elegant woman.
“Ladies and gentlemen give it for my girl, Kylie Morgan!” Raucous cheers exploded around the room. “She’s here tonight to support foster youth. Morning House is a place where teens can go if they’re homeless or in trouble. And we appreciate Kylie coming to speak to you all and support a charity I actually benefited from back in the day. My girl here was sometimes my partner in crime.” He laughed as he brought her into his embrace and I could have killed him. “She has just started her own nonprofit for teens that hooks them up with lifelong mentors and dream makers. The Every Dream Foundation gives foster and at-risk youth an opportunity to seize their future and heal from their pasts. Every Dream Foundation will be partnering with Morning House to offer a well-rounded support network to our most vulnerable citizens. So, without further ado, I present to you a woman with one of the best hearts in the world.”
Again, the cheering boomed around me as my heart clenched.
Kylie was so loved and adored. She stepped up to the mic with grace and beauty. Her voice at first was small, and she was the timid Kylie that made me crazy, though as she spoke my sparky girl emerged.
“Thank you all for being here tonight and supporting Morning House. As Killah mentioned, we were partners in crime, and I remember our antics; I’m sure Mrs. Harmon does too.” There was a giggle from the back of the room. “I recall being called into her office on more than one occasion and you know ... she didn’t scold or punish me, but she said, ‘You can do better.’” For a second Kylie choked up. “You can do better. I never really thought of it. I was a foster youth like Killah, only we called him Kevin back then. We didn’t want to do better back then. I don’t think when a person watches family after family passes you by because they want someone younger, someone with less baggage, that you would ever want to be better ... for what? Something inside of you wants to do bad, to make all the pain and suffering feel justified. Who hurts a little kid? Who throws them away? We hate to think of it, but it happens every day. There are a hundred reasons why you don’t want to adopt a skinny girl with ‘issues’, but what happens to her? Kevin and I, we were lucky we had Mrs. Harmon to encourage us ... and be the family he and I never ended up getting. Morning House and the Every Dream Foundation gives kids whose only crime is being born to families that can’t care for them a chance to do better and have a community family. They can see their lives and futures as brighter ... and not only better but brilliant.”
The room erupted in cheers as people stood.
Kylie was crying now. I wanted to rush the stage and scoop her into my arms. I had no idea. Nothing was ever published about her past. She mentioned it briefly to me, but ... what she must have endured. All of my co-workers were impressed by Kylie, and no one knew I’d had a night with her.
“I love Kylie Morgan,” Ashley my marketing manager’s assistant gushed.
I turned to her and asked, “Why?” probably freaking her out because I didn’t mingle with my people much.
In fact, my being at the table with them was making everyone tense. I was always too busy to spend a lot of time with my staff. I never invited them to charity events, and the only time they ever really saw me was at our annual Christmas party, which I would attend for an hour and disappear. Otherwise, I had an office on the sixteenth floor and the rest were on fifteen. I had a personal assistant, Troy. He was a decent guy, hardworking, with a family. We were cordial, efficient, surface level. I had no friends in the office.
My best friend, Christian, was a painter and weird artist, but we’d been friends since childhood. He was my nanny’s son; we were literally raised as brothers. He was so successful, generous, and kind ... everything I wasn’t. He would have been Kylie’s perfect partner, but he wasn’t ever going to be, because I made sure he knew she was going to be mine.
“That is so not like you,” he mused when I saw him for drinks the other night.
“I know. What’s happening to me?” I laughed.
“Yeah, usually you’re such an absolute shit to women.” He wasn’t wrong, but it hurt to hear it.
“Well, apparently I was a shit to her ... she never texted me again after her ‘Find something to love,’ comment.” It fucking killed me to tell him that.
“She must’ve sensed you. If she really isn’t what she presents herself to be, then my guess is she’s exactly the opposite. You probably scared the shit out of her, but I’m also pretty sure she liked it. That’s why she’s running. She’s afraid you’ll hurt her.” He drank his beer and cupped a handful of peanuts and tossed them at his mouth.
“The worst part is I would annihilate her, but I still want her … damn it.”
“You better move on. She’s going to be way complicated.” He swallowed his peanuts down with more beer.
“Exactly your type,” I grumbled.
“Pretty much.” His smile widened.
FAKE: An Enemies to Lovers Standalone Romance Page 8