Addicted After All (25 page)

The more stress I have, the more sex I crave. I fuck to “placate” my worries, putting me in a subdued, content state.

I don’t meet Lo’s eyes. I know they’re filled with overbearing concern. I just focus on his abs and outline the small ridges with my fingers.

His hands drop to my hips, holding tight. I ache to be closer, but I settle with splaying my palms on his bare chest. “If anything,” he tells me. “I’m going to be the horny one. And you’ll have to deny me over and
over
for six goddamn weeks.”

I smile weakly. “Payback?”

He nods. “Oh yeah. For every
no
I ever had to tell your pretty little face.” He pinches my cheeks, and I slap his hand away.

“
Your
pretty little face is going to be hearing lots of
no’s
then.”

“I’m counting on it.” He leans in, closing the gap between us. His lips touch mine, kissing me softly and then deeply, pulling me awake. He cups the back of my head as I taste his minty breath.

I only break apart when my phone buzzes on the floorboards. Lo returns to the wall, dipping his roller in paint, while I check my text, plopping back on the ground.

The expresso machine broke. The force is not with us today. Want me to buy a new one or have someone come fix it?
– Maya

I make an executive decision.
Have someone look at it first.
I press send. I’ve found out that one of our morning-shift employees at Superheroes & Scones is a little aloof, like me, so it may just be operator error.

I notice that I’ve missed other texts, some I’ve purposefully kept unopened all week. But I click into them now.

Is there anything I can do to change this?
– Ryke

This fucking sucks.
– Ryke.

I’ve taken the immature silent treatment route this past week, but I haven’t grown the courage to tell him that I’ve been aroused by his presence and that I feel gross by it.

While the same things happened with Connor, it only occurred twice and it stopped there. Every time I see Ryke, I just feel weird.

Lo told his brother to give me some space, so he hasn’t bombarded me in person, like he usually would. He’s just been texting me, being pushy from a distance.
Soon
, I think. I’ll face him. But not this soon.

Lo’s phone chirps like a bird.

“What’s that?” Lo asks, his rolling stopping against the wall. I ditch my phone for his, one with internet and app capabilities.

“Uhh…”
My Twitter notifications on your phone.
“…a bird?” I’m a horrible liar. Well, that’s not true. I did lie to my entire family for three years. I suppose—I am horrible at lying to
Lo
.

“Lil,” he says in warning.

“It’s not Tumblr!” I greedily check out Twitter and realize that someone has finally discovered my official account. Whoa. My third one about Raisy has been retweeted over a thousand times. “Raisy is alive!” I cheer, bouncing up to my feet.

Lo gives me a weird look and then snatches the phone out of my hand.

I don’t care. I’m twirling. I did it. We succeeded! “No more three-way rumors,” I sing-song. “Everyone loves Raisy.”

“I’m deleting your account,” Lo says, his voice hollow.

I stop mid-twirl. I realize that I sang out loud and
actually
spun in a circle. My skin roasts. “What? Lo, it’s working—”

“Did you read the replies?” His cheekbones are sharpening.

“No…I…celebrated too soon?”

He nods tensely and hands me the phone back. “Delete it, Lil.”

I scroll through some of the replies, and my excitement is shot down like a pigeon in the sky. And yes, I deserve to be a pigeon and not a majestic eagle or a sprightly blue jay.

@littlehex99:
@lilycallowayX23 you’re for sure banging Ryke and trying to cover it up. I bet Daisy is still with that model guy, Julian. Isn’t she??

No.

@Sherlock2Baby
:
@lilycallowayX23 I called this from the start!! You LOVE Ryke!!! You can’t fool us, Lily!!

I’m not trying to.

@lotusflowwers
:
@lilycallowayX23 you’re such a fucking slut. I hope you die from banging two guys at once.

I cringe. That’s not nice.

“There has to be some good stuff here,” I tell Lo.

“Lil, please, just delete the account. It’s not worth the stress.”

I don’t want to give up yet. “Let me take a picture of you,” I say. “I’ll tweet it and ignore all the other comments.”

He hesitates for a couple seconds. “Only if you don’t respond to the negative tweets.”

I nod vigorously and my chest expands with more excitement.

He holds the paint roller, and instead of giving me a signature bitter half-smile, Lo produces a heartfelt, really attractive smile with dimples attached. I have to cross my ankles to keep from throbbing so much down below. I snap a quick pic and then upload it without a caption.

Words can be twisted worse than pictures. Though the photoshopped pictures of me on the yacht between two hot dogs was pretty bad.

Lo returns to painting, and I sit back down with his phone, logging into
Celebrity Crush
, just a quick perusal of all the headlines.

Ryke Meadows’ Epic Fight in Mexico Caught on Tape!

The videos went viral. Lo says that whenever Ryke goes out now, people jeer at him—thinking he’s easily provoked. Everyone wants to see a Fight Part Two. For him to feed their entertainment.

“Is Ryke okay?” I ask Lo. I know how overwhelming the paparazzi and general public can be. But if anyone can take it, it’s definitely Ryke Meadows.

Lo briefly glances at me. “Why don’t you ask him?” His tone is only a little edged.

Worry infiltrates my defenses. “I’m not attracted to your—”

“I know you aren’t, Lil. You don’t have to keep reminding me.”

It’s not porn. It’s okay.
That’s what I need to tell myself.

I check another headline.
Ryke Defends Lily Calloway’s Honor at Her Little Sister’s Birthday.

I hate that one. Because it’s all the truth. But it seems so wrong on the outside.

VIDEO: Loren Hale & Connor Cobalt Kiss in Mexico!

I perk up. Should I? My finger hovers over the link to the article.

“Lily,” Lo warns.

“Lo,” I say back.

“You have that look.”

I blink. “The unsatisfied look?”

“No, the one that says you’re about to do something bad.”

I shake my head. “Nope. No. Not going to…” I lick my dry lips. But it’s
so
tempting. I haven’t even read fan’s comments about the kiss because I’ve been avoiding the video clips for so long. Lo suddenly steals my phone…or rather
his
phone.

“How’d you get over here so fast?” I ask. My mouth falls and my eyes widen. “Your superpower kicked in.”

His forehead wrinkles as he stares at the phone screen in concentration. And then his eyes flit to mine. “When you imagine me kissing Connor, how long is it?” he asks.

“Thirty seconds,” I say, feeling my cheeks heat, which shows my lie too easily. “Okay, it’s actually more like a minute…and there may be some tongue involved.”

Lo groans. “Lil.”

“I have an overactive imagination. It’s not my fault. It’s my dirty brain’s fault.”

He sighs, presses his phone’s screen and then turns it to me. Oh my God. He hit
play
. I am watching the video. I am watching him…

I squint. “This is blurry.”

“We were in a dark nightclub. They’re all blurry.”

It’s not exactly brief, but it’s not epically long either. Connor and Lo’s lips lock, and then I have to squint to make out the rest. I can barely even see their faces. But I do spot a pair of hands—on Lo’s neck. Connor obviously guided him so it was more than just kissing a wall, but it’s too quick to really obsess over. And it’s all grainy.

My shoulders drop. But it’s okay, I think. Maybe it’s even better than okay.

“Did I destroy your fantasy?”

I nod. “It’s ruined.”

“Good,” he says, squatting down in front of me. My nerves light up just staring into those entrancing amber eyes. “How’s this reality?”

I smile wide. “Much, much better,” I realize.

{ 23 }

LILY CALLOWAY

“Hale Co. is a multi-billion dollar empire,” Daniel Perth repeats for the second time as we ride the glass elevator to the seventy-fifth floor. “If you think you’re being brought in here for shits and giggles, think again.”

He sounds so much like Lo’s dad that I honestly wonder if Jonathan Hale hires people with his personality or if his employees just pick up the lingo after a while. When Daisy and I arrived in the lobby five minutes ago, Daniel introduced himself as one of the fourteen board members. He’s in his late-thirties; has a prominent nose, fluffy brown hair and a very expensive suit. And he is not about the bullshit.

He’s told us that three times already.

“You’re both about to meet the rest of the board. Handshakes and lunch. Easy.”

Tomorrow they’re meeting with Ryke and Lo. They wanted to split us up in pairs so they’d have a better indication of how we would act on our own. So far, so good.

I nervously wipe my sweaty palms on my khaki pants, my baby bump visible underneath my silk top. Daisy towers beside me in high-waisted navy shorts and a white blouse, sans bra. She had her yellow cast cut off in March, so her wrist is decorated in gold bangles.

She’s all stylish, like she’s ready to walk the runway, and I feel matronly and ready to sink on a couch and take a luxurious nap. But I’m here on a mission: ensure Loren and Ryke are
not
chosen as the new CEO. They’ve both spent years dodging this life, and there’s no reason they have to fall back into it now.

I can tell Daisy is going to be tough competition, but I have to do better than her too. She just turned nineteen, and she’s already worked most of her life. The corporate world is not calling her. Nope. I won’t let it. Big sister priorities intact, I am ready to impress.

Although…I have never impressed anyone. My M.O. is to stand by the wall and blend into the paint.

This’ll be a challenge.

Daniel fixes his tie. “We have the final say-so in which one of you becomes the CEO, and we’re not going to pass the title over lightly. Whoever we choose will be the face of the company.” His eyes fall to me. “And it’s going to take a
lot
of convincing if you want to be that person.”

A sex addict as the face of a baby company.

I can see why this may be a little problematic, but I have to put my best foot forward.

“She’s going to do great,” Daisy says with a bright smile. She slings her arm around my shoulders.

Daniel’s eyes finally migrate to her, and they intensify in a different way. My sisterly guards rise about a hundred feet.
No. No. No.

“You’re charming,” he says like he’s filing the note in the “positives” category. Jonathan said the men thought as much about Daisy.

The ends of her blonde hair are dyed a muted orange, like the sunset, and she styled her locks so they cover the scar on her cheek. “You’re upfront,” she tells him.

“Honey,” he says, “all fourteen of us aren’t going to beat around any bush. Jonathan likes it that way.” His gaze descends down her long, long legs. “If you were ten years older, you’d be perfect.”

“Story of my life,” Daisy mutters under her breath.

I wish I was taller. Even though I stand between them, they can easily have a conversation over my head. She’s wearing high heels. He’s past six-feet. And I’m only five-five and a little bit extra. Ryke would
not
appreciate Daniel’s lingering gaze, and now my friend instincts take over.

I cough into my hand, disrupting his staring.

“Yes?” he asks me.

“I’d like it if you stopped ogling my sister.”

“She and
you
better get used to it,” Daniel says. “You’re both going to be ‘ogled’ from here on out.” He even uses air quotes, and his eyes drift to my belly. “And don’t be surprised if some of the women fawn over you. You’re not only our target audience, but you’re carrying Jonathan’s grandson. They’re all excited.”

I flinch in shock that these women would be
excited
to meet me. “That’s a strong adjective,” I say softly.

“It’s a correct one,” he tells me. “Most everyone loves Jonathan, and if we could repair his image, we all would. But it’s too late for that.”

The elevator suddenly pings. We’re here. The seventy-fifth floor.

When the doors slide open, we see four women, the rest men, holding champagne flutes, servers wandering around. They all turn and stare right at us. Their expressions are severe, no-nonsense, poised and confident. They size us up immediately.

Daniel watches our stunned reactions and says, “Welcome to Hale Co.”

* * *

Lunch begins, and I almost instantaneously lose my sister in this meet-and-greet. The high tables are lined with small sandwiches and tapas. I pinch the stem of a wine glass, filled with chilled water, and linger by a table in the corner, away from the limelight.

It’s safe here. I chew slowly, using food as an excuse not to talk too much. I just nod a lot. All four women have flocked me, and they ask me about baby things, which Hale Co. product I like the best. Easy stuff, but I suspect they’re mentally jotting notes about my “personable” skills.

“I like the rocking chairs,” I say between bites of cucumber sandwich. The women stare at me like a mouse has spoken. I take a large gulp of water. I secretly want to raise my hand and say,
introvert in the building!
But that’s not going to help me.

They want someone like Daisy.

The men seriously love her. She already learned the art of schmoozing from her modeling career. Seven middle-aged men surround my little sister across the spacious conference room, floor-length windows overlooking Philadelphia.