Bluff : Book 2 of the Complicated Parts Series

by Ashley Jade

  It’s not so much what she’s saying, it’s what she isn’t saying. The lines she’s making me read between.

  “I don’t even know how to respond to that.” A blast of perseverance hits me and I find my inner strength. “Actually, I do. First—you knew damn well I had feelings for you. I might not be as put together or posh as you are, but I’m the most upfront and straightforward person I know. You let things get as far as they did because you wanted them to. Don’t stand there and act like I was some lovesick puppy following you around and it was one-sided. Put your big girl panties on and own your shit, Jess. Second—if you think you can fire me without starting world war three, you’re higher than you were last night.” I stab my chest with my thumb. “I am a damn good worker. But unlike some people, no matter how bad of a position I might be in, I know I’m worth more than spreading my legs for some geezer with a Rolex. Therefore, I’m not about to bend over and let you give me the shaft.”

  She rears back as if I slapped her. And yeah, maybe the tail end of my statement was a bit harsh, but it’s the truth. Jess is smart and capable. As a woman, I hate that she felt the only way she could save her business was by merging professionally and sexually with a rich guy who owns a porn company.

  But as a person going through my own situation? I know sometimes we do things we don’t want to in order to keep what we perceive as important from slipping away.

  It’s easy to judge others from the outside looking in while we sit perched on our own throne of hypocrisy.

  Glass houses and all that.

  “That was uncalled for, I’m sorry.”

  “No, after last night I deserve it.” She smiles tightly. “As far as your job goes, I talked to Jared and we both agree we don’t want to lose you.” She takes out a sheet of paper and a pen. “After you sign this non-disclosure agreement, we can put this mess behind us.”

  I feel as though I’ve been slapped now. “Did you miss the part where I said I’m not going to bend over?”

  She rubs her forehead. “I know you’re upset but other than apologizing, there isn’t much I can do about your feelings. I also have a business to protect. Last night was a mistake, we’ve already gone over that, but it’s not like me or Jared held you down and fucked you. Technically you gave him a broken nose, but you don’t see him pressing charges.”

  She slams the paper down on the table. “You weren’t in danger, Kit. No one stopped you from leaving. Just like no one forced you to do anything you didn’t want to do last night. Don’t turn this into some hashtag me too movement and insult the women who have been raped.” Her lips pinch. “You want to keep your job? Well, so do we. Neither myself nor Jared deserve the bad press that can result from a misunderstanding. Sign it so we can move on from this and go on with our lives. Don’t make it complicated.”

  I pick up the pen with trembling fingers. I thought what happened was indisputably on the wrong side of the coin, but Jess has a point. I wasn’t raped, and I was angry instead of fearful when I ran out of the room. Other women aren’t so lucky. They don’t get to leave situations like that without someone taking a part of them they’ll never get back.

  When I think about what happened in that context, I can’t help but feel like I’m blowing this whole thing out of proportion.

  And yet, as I press the pen to the paper, I can’t help but feel like I’m signing a deal with the devil.

  I slide the document across the table after I’m finished, debating my next words carefully. It’s an odd time to bring this up considering the circumstances, but then again, she sprung a non-disclosure agreement on me out of nowhere.

  “I know we’re supposed to be in Vegas until Wednesday afternoon, but something’s come up and I need to leave early.” When she makes a face, I add, “It’s family stuff. My nanna’s health is declining, and I need to take care of some things.”

  She visibly relaxes. “Sorry to hear. Tell you what, take the rest of the week off. Use the time to clear your head and handle your personal stuff. This way, when you go to New York, you can bring your A-game.”

  I had forgotten all about going to New York, but maybe not seeing Jess every day will make things easier for me. “Thanks.”

  She goes to reach for my hand, but I pull it back and stand up. “I’ll be there bright and early Monday morning.”

  There’s a million-dollar fine on the non-disclosure agreement if I break my silence.

  But the dull ache sitting smack dab in the middle of my chest as I make my way out of the conference room?

  Turns out it’s about as worthless as she made me feel today.

  Jess’s one-eighty was a hit I never saw coming. Other than last night, there weren’t any warning signs. It was completely unexpected.

  And that right there is the worst part about having your heart broken.

  Reality versus expectation.

  In my mind, I had already jumped ahead to Jess and me dating and getting our happily ever after. I had envisioned long nights spooning, hot sex, deep conversations, and a chubby cat named Whiskers—because Jess seems more like a cat person, and a bulldog named Lola would probably be too slobbery and high-maintenance for her. Therefore, I was willing to compromise.

  Not that it matters now. None of it does.

  She’s not the beautiful, smart, driven woman I thought she was. Her true colors are as shady as her Chanel handbag with bad stitching.

  And to think, for once, I did everything right. Like getting to know her before diving in head first.

  A lot of good it did me, though. Because here I am. Standing in an elevator, holding back tears as I try to figure out yet again why I’m so unlovable.

  Why my heart isn’t good enough.

  Why my mind insists on building these forevers with those who don’t even want a tomorrow with me.

  God, I’m so tired of waiting for Mrs. Right to show up so we can ride off into the sunset together.

  Maybe it’s time I let go of the idea of finding her and focus on making my own dreams come true. I don’t need a soulmate in order to have a career, travel the world, rescue Lola the bulldog, or accomplish my goals.

  I’ve been on my own since I was eight years old. What am I so afraid of?

  I step off the elevator and take a deep breath. I won’t break, and I won’t shatter. I’m stronger now.

  Fuck finding Mrs. Right. Fuck love. Fuck anything that doesn’t make me happy. I’m going to reclaim my life. Emerge from this gloomy cocoon a butterfly.

  After I drag Preston Holden to the nearest chapel.

  My nanna will be infuriated no doubt, but I refuse to let her throw some elaborate wedding and stick me in a fluffy cupcake dress all so she can gawk and have the last laugh.

  The crotchety old bat is already getting what she wants by me marrying a guy. She doesn’t get to control how I go about it too.

  I breeze past Juan after I swipe my key and he stands up. “What happened?”

  I pause on my way to the bathroom. “I’m a goddamn butterfly.”

  He opens and closes his mouth before he speaks. “Is that why Jess wanted to talk to you?”

  I look down at the tiles before I spit out my lie. “No, she wanted to make sure I was still on board to go to New York next week.”

  The pressure in my chest tightens and I swallow the sob threatening to break free.

  I’m a butterfly with broken wings.

  Chapter 4

  “Just lay low and I’ll call you tomorrow morning.”

  Max shakes his head when I hang up the phone. “I checked with everyone I know. Nothing’s happening tonight. It’s sort of strange how dry it is.”

  Not the update I was hoping for. Just my luck. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think the universe was against me.”

  He pops open the tab of his beer. “You and me both. You might be the bullseye, but my nuts are on Campanelli’s dartboard now too. How the hell are you going to come up with a million by tomorrow? Last week you could barely pay yo
ur room and board, and that’s with the discount I give you.”

  I scrub a hand down my face. “I don’t know, but I’ll figure something out.” I always do.

  He searches his pockets for his cigarettes. “You can call that rich brother of yours. The tattooed hottie with the weird hair sounds like she’s close with him.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Maybe if you fuck her again, she’ll put in a good word for you and he’ll cut you a check.”

  “I didn’t—” I pause, bumming a cigarette from his pack before I hand it to him. “I can’t. Her plane left an hour ago and I didn’t ask for her number.”

  It’s easier to let him think Kit’s nothing more than another lay at this point. He’ll have fewer questions about her, and I won’t have to think about her. Things are more manageable for me that way.

  Just like it’s easier to let him think my older brother’s a jerkoff who won’t give me a cent of our father’s money because I like to gamble.

  Technically, it’s not too far off from the truth. When I went to say goodbye to Asher after the funeral, he tried to approach me with his own version of a good boy reward system.

  Just like I knew he would.

  Needless to say, I declined and got out of there as fast as I could. I already survived one Spencer Holden. No way in hell was I going to stick around to watch my brother transform into the next one.

  I take a sip of my warm beer to wash the animosity down.

  “He has to have an agent or something you can get in touch with,” Max continues. “A Facebook page, some bullshit like that.”

  My already short fuse grows shorter. “Contacting my brother isn’t an option.” I take a long drag off my cigarette. “Besides, he won’t do it.”

  That’s a lie. My brother would do it in an instant. But I haven’t reached the end of my rope…yet. And even if I did, I’d prefer to let Campanelli hang me.

  “You won’t know unless—”

  I slam my fist on the table. “Would you shut the fuck up about my brother? I’m trying to think.”

  He raises his hands. “And I’m trying to help. I don’t know if you noticed, but Campanelli isn’t playing with a full deck. He hasn’t been for a while. It’s why Matteo runs most of his shit, otherwise, he’d be out of business because everyone who ever pissed him off would be dead.”

  His hand grips the back of his neck. “I know how he operates, man. And Campanelli will get his money one way or another. It’s not a matter of if, it’s only a matter of how bloody the trail he leaves behind will be. And if you think he’ll listen to your sob story or spare anyone you love, think again. It doesn’t matter to him, it’s game over for everyone. The man is three fries short of a happy meal.”

  A wave of panic washes over me. I can’t let that happen. I won’t.

  Max—like anyone feeling apprehensive about being unjustly executed, has managed to poke at my weak spot. Fortunately for him, it works because I rise from my chair. “I’ll be back later.”

  He gives me a puzzled look. “Where are you going?”

  “Casino.”

  That only confuses him more. “You ain’t got a pot to piss in, guy. This isn’t the time to be gambling away your last fifty bucks.”

  I run a hand through my hair and grab my wallet. “I’m not.”

  “Then what—” Whatever he was going to say falls by the wayside as he puts two and two together. “Bad idea. You can’t afford to sit in a jail cell tonight.”

  “I know what I’m doing. I was barely even arrested last time.”

  “Barely even arrested,” he repeats to himself. “Her husband was a goddamn DA.”

  I smirk. “Yeah, but it’s not like she pressed charges.”

  He gestures toward me with the beer in his hand before he takes a swig. “And that right there is half your problem, man. You’re too cocky. Just like the rest of them pretty boys in the world, you think good looks and a big dick makes you invincible, but it really makes you stupid. Take my word for it, man. I’ve seen this scenario play out before with bad results. Your charms won’t save you from Campanelli, and neither will a night in the slammer, because he’ll be waiting when you get out. Or worse, someone will be waiting when you go in. Don’t do anything stupid, Preston.”

  Chapter 5

  “I thought you were gone?” Max questions as I make my way to the front desk.

  “I did leave, but I came back.” I straighten my spine, ignoring the way his eyes drop to my boobs. “And I’d really appreciate it if you could give me Preston’s room number.”

  Between my anger over Preston throwing me out, my shoe situation, and not remembering the journey to his humble abode in the first place, I forgot to look at it before I left.

  In my defense, I didn’t think I needed to, considering I had no intention of returning.

  He leans back in his seat. “He said your plane left this afternoon.”

  Now I’m the one who’s confused. Why would Preston tell him that? He doesn’t even know how long I’m here for.

  I wave a hand because none of that matters. Due to Juan filling me in on what happened between him and Ronald while I was getting ready, I lost track of time.

  “Can you just give me his room number please?”

  He eyes me skeptically as he plucks a toothpick from its holder. “Can’t. None of the rooms have numbers.”

  Disregarding the fact that that is a terrible system, I press on. “I’m cool with a map.”

  He kicks his feet up on the desk. “Don’t have one.”

  I smile tightly. “Perhaps a compass?”

  He works the toothpick between his teeth. “We’re all out.”

  My frustration comes to a peak and I slam the desk with my palm. “Good grief, dude, draw me a freaking picture then. I need to see him.”

  His face scrunches. “Why?”

  I raise my chin. “It’s personal.”

  “Personal?”

  Evidently, that’s the wrong answer for Preston’s gatekeeper, so I try again. “We’re friends.”

  “You two didn’t seem very friendly earlier.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but we did spend the night together.”

  “That was last night.” He chews his toothpick with more vigor. “He doesn’t like visitors. Especially the female kind who come by unannounced.” He winks. “He’s not into clingers. But they don’t bother me none.”

  “I am not clingy,” I shout and his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

  “If you say so.”

  Trying my hardest not to let my irritation get the best of me, I place my forearms on the desk. “Okay, here’s the deal. You’re either going to tell me where his room is…or I’m going to take one of those toothpicks and shove it in your eyeball.”

  He seems unfazed. “No, you won’t.”

  He’s right, anything involving eyeballs makes me squeamish. “Level with me here, Max. What will it take for you to let me through the pearly gates so I can talk to Preston?”

  He thinks about this for a moment. “You can show me your tits.”

  “Hard pass.” I yank on his shirt. “And the longer you prolong this song and dance, the quicker that Matteo guy will kill you. Now do us both a favor and stop acting like the messiah of douchebags so I can save my goddamn husband.”

  His mouth drops open and he stares at me like I’ve sprouted another head. “Preston’s not here. I had no idea you—”

  “Where is he?”

  He looks uneasy. “I don’t think you—”

  My grip tightens. “Do you want Matteo to kill you?”

  “He went to a casino downtown, you just missed him. But I really don’t think—”

  I don’t hear the rest of his statement because I jet out the door.

  Two cab rides and thirty-five minutes later…I spot him across the room in a swanky casino.

  And my stomach drops to the floor.

  Preston’s not gambling like I thought he would be.

  Instead, I w
atch as he leans in close to the attractive woman he’s sitting next to at the bar. Judging by the way his hand is slowly moving up her thigh and she’s giggling like a school girl, despite being a good twenty or so years older than I am…things are hot and heavy between them.

  My heart jumps to my throat because Preston dating someone undoubtedly sends my plan straight to hell in a handbasket.

  There’s a peculiar twinge in my chest when he whispers something in her ear and she tosses her head back and giggles again, soaking up every drop of his attention like a sponge.

  Like he’s the only one in the room.

  The one responsible for her racing heart, sweaty palms, and muddling thoughts.

  The tiny hairs on my body stand on end as I continue observing them, seeing him the way she does.

  The woman angles her body closer, completely hypnotized by his smoldering gaze, chiseled cheekbones, structured jawline, and those straight white teeth.

  And I get it. I might not be attracted to him, but there’s no denying his appearance is…aesthetically pleasing to the eye. Beautiful even, if his features weren’t so jagged.

  Heat invades my cheeks as I resume my examination of him through her lens. Great looks are one thing…but there’s a certain quality radiating from Preston right now. Something that isn’t so obnoxious. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

  And that’s when I realize. It’s his confidence. His swagger.

  There’s a magnetism about him that’s borderline seductive. Like a serpent carefully weaving a spell.

  The ground trembles beneath my feet and an inexplicable weight compresses against my ribcage. Even though it’s completely irrational, I feel like I’ve been betrayed somehow.

  Frustration claws its way up my throat because I don’t understand these disturbing feelings or what they mean. All I know is that it makes me hate him for being the cause of them.