Liar, Liar (3 page)

“Oh.  I’ll make certain she doesn’t slip through the cracks again.  Sorry, Ms. Banks.”

“It’s fine, I meant to discuss it with you after her first phone call, however, it slipped my mind.”

“I’ll write down her name and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Thanks, Josephine.” 

“Will that be all?”

“Oh, could you hold my calls this afternoon, please.”

“Of course.”  She leaves my office and I resume sifting through social media to try and track down Benny Duncan’s next social engagement.

Yes!
  I just obtained an official invitation to an awards party that Benny Duncan will be attending tomorrow night.  Because I am extremely stealthy in the art of investigation, I also managed to confirm that Mr. Duncan will be attending alone.  Of course, I could have called Regina directly and asked, however, I would prefer to conduct this particular assignment without her knowledge of exactly how it is going to play out.  Just in case she decides to
help out
in any way.

Gathering my handbag, I exit the office and catch a cab to a boutique to secure an outfit suitable for tomorrow night.

Dressed in a gorgeous pair of dove grey tailored slacks and a white silk blouse, the friendly-looking sales assistant greets me with a kind smile.  “Welcome to Eslade, my name’s Shandy.  Can I help you today?” 

“Hi, I’m looking for a gown for a function I have tomorrow night.  Something sexy, not too revealing, but not too covering.  I’d like it to be fitted, maybe with a slit, just to tease the imagination,” I explain.

“I think I’ve just got the thing.  Follow me.”

We walk by racks of beautiful clothing until we reach the back of the store.  Leading me through a pair of sheer white curtains that partition off this area from the store, she stops by a row of stunning gowns.

“Wow, they’re all so beautiful,” I murmur, stroking the emerald green chiffon.

“Okay, what about this one?” She holds up a black dress for me to admire.  The fabric is gorgeous and the dress has beautiful crystal detailing around the bodice. 

“It’s gorgeous.”

“It is.  But, no slit.  What about this one?”  She replaces the black dress and holds up the most exquisite gunmetal grey dress.

“Oh,” I gasp.  “Can I try it on?” I whisper, ogling the sheer perfection cradled in her arms.

“Of course.  Right this way.” 

I step inside the changing room and immediately peel off my white pantsuit, deftly folding my clothing and setting it on the bench. 

As I slip the dress on, the fabric feels incredibly sexy against my skin. When I turn to look at myself in the mirror behind me, I can hardly believe my eyes.

Stunning.

I look beautiful.

The slit reaches just above my knee, high enough to capture the eye, discreet enough to evoke the imagination.  The fabric encases my breasts, but is accented by a plunging, scalloped neckline.  My décolletage is covered in beautiful, see-through fabric that is embroidered with sparkly grey beads.  I turn my back to the mirror and look over my shoulder.  The same sheer, beaded fabric covers my entire back, ending above my butt.  Down my ribcage is more scalloping.  The dress falls to the floor, fitting me perfectly.

Absolutely beautiful.

“How are you going in there?” Shandy asks from the other side of the curtain.  I pull the partition to the side and step out.

“Oh, you look amazing!” she gushes.

I do a twirl for her and once again admire myself in the mirrors lining the wall.

“I love it,” I tell her honestly.

“An up-do will look amazing, showing off that gorgeous beading on the back,” she tells me, lifting my hair onto my head.

I couldn’t agree more.

I purchase the dress and a pair of silver stiletto heels before making my way back to the office. 

***

“Josephine, could you call the Ritz and make a reservation for me for tomorrow night, please?”

“Of course, Ms. Banks.”

“Thank you.”

I enter my office and fire up my computer.  Opening up the file I have created for Benny Duncan, I add some progress notes and then send through an email to Mitchell.

Mitch,

I have acquired tickets to an event Benny is attending alone tomorrow night.  Attached is the progress notes on the case. 

Makenna.

~*~

Thanks for the notes. 

I won’t be in the office tomorrow, so I’ll see you on Monday for a full report.  Good luck, and have a good weekend.

Mitch.

“Ms. Banks, I’ve booked your room at the Ritz.  Thankfully they had a cancellation and could fit you in.  I’ve sent you through an email with all the details,” Josephine informs me.

“Thank you.”

I pull up her email and double check the details, before calling and booking a hair and makeup artist.  After that is confirmed, I jump on the website of the event and familiarize myself with the details.

The John Dunston Awards night is primarily a fundraising event that also acknowledges and showcases the success of its members.  The awards part of the evening celebrates and recognizes business excellence throughout the industry.  During the night, there are auctions that take place to raise money for various local charities.  I click on the link and a list of nominees appears on my screen.  I quickly scan through and notice Benny is nominated for the night’s most prestigious award – The John Dunston Award for Overall Business Excellence and Innovation.

Impressive.

***

Knock, knock.

“Yes?” I call, lifting my eyes from my computer screen to my office door.

“Sorry to interrupt, Ms. Banks, but I have a client here who is desperate for a consultation,” Josephine informs me. 

I glance down at my watch and notice it is twenty minutes until quitting time.  Still, if a potential client made their way down to the office in the hopes of seeing me, I feel bad turning them away.

“Show them to the conference room.  I’ll be there shortly.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I gather my notebook, a pen, and tuck my phone into my jacket pocket, before making my way down to the conference room at the end of the hall.  The layout is basic and consists of a large table in the center of the room, surrounded by chairs.  Since the room is at the end of the building, three of the four walls are windows that look out over the city.  Mitchell and I decorated with indoor plants and one large piece of artwork that hangs on the wall backing up to Mitchell’s office.

Upon entering, I notice a woman sitting in one of the chairs, looking nervous.  Her black hair is down, framing her face, and she is wearing a plain lilac blouse. Her hands are clasped together on the table in front of her, and her eyes are trained on them.

“Good afternoon.  I’m Makenna Banks,” I say, introducing myself as I walk toward her.  I extend my hand over the table and she shakes it limply.

I take a seat and arrange my notepad and pen in front of me.

“Makenna,” she sighs with a smile.

Weird.

“My name is Beatrice Snow, and I’m in desperate need of your help,” she tells me.

“Okay, Miss Snow, what can I do for you?”

“Call me Beatrice, please,” she says with a smile.  Wow, she’s friendly.  For a woman that appeared extremely nervous five minutes ago, she sure is relaxed now.

“Beatrice.”  I smile.  “What can I do for you?” I repeat.

“I’ve got a problem, and I need professional help with it.  I’ve been trying to gain the attention of a particular person, but I feel like they keep brushing me off,” she tells me.  “I want you to investigate them and tell me if they’re being honest with me.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Beatrice, but you’re asking me to stalk someone for you?”

“Essentially, yes.  But, it’s not like I want to hurt them.  I just want to date them,” she explains.

“That isn’t the kind of service we offer here,” I say gently.  “If the person you’re trying to get to know isn’t reciprocating your advances, then chances are, they are brushing you off.”

“I’m not exactly sure they are brushing me off. That’s what I need you for,” she says tightly.

“Perhaps a better way to approach this would be to just ask them directly,” I suggest.

“Fine,” she grits out.  “Makenna, are you brushing me off?” she asks.

Does she want to role-play?  Is she practicing on me before the real thing?

Rather than reply, I just stare at her, mouth slightly agape, unsure of what exactly is going on.

“Makenna?” she presses when I don’t reply.

“Uh….”

“Are you brushing me off?” she repeats, a little more forcefully.

“I’m sorry, Beatrice, I’m a little confused.”

“Oh, cut the act.  My name isn’t Beatrice, it’s Juliette, and I think you know that.  We have a connection, Makenna.  I know you feel it. Don’t deny it.”

Holy fuck.

“Juliette Maas?” I gasp.

“I knew you’d remember me!”  She reaches across the table to grip my hand, but I quickly pull mine out from under hers.

“I… I’m sorry, Juliette, but I have to be completely honest here,” I start.  My mind is spinning and I scramble to find a way to let her down gently.  “I’m not interested in you.  I don’t know you, for starters.  I’m also not interested in women. Period.”

“How would you know if you’ve never tried?” she cajoles. 

“Well, uh, I just know.”

“Just give it a try.  One date.  One time.  I
need
to taste your sweet body.”  She eyes my breasts like a hungry vulture.

Oh, my god.

“How do you even know who I am?” I blurt.

She sighs and stares over my shoulder dreamily.  “The first time I saw you was when Mitchell investigated a case for a company I worked for.  You came with him one day and I noticed you right away through the boardroom windows as you met with my boss.  I knew from that moment, I had to have you.  I’ve been keeping my eye on you ever since.”

She’s crazy.

“I’m really sorry, Juliette, but I’m not interested.  I’m going to have to ask you to leave, and not to return,” I say firmly.

“This isn’t the end, Makenna.  I’ll fight for us.  I’ll fight for you.”

I stand and walk to the door.  Holding it open, I eye her seriously.  “You need to leave.  Immediately.”

As she comes by me, she reaches a hand out to trail it across my collarbone.  I take a large step back, but manage to still grip the door.  With a wink and a smile, she disappears down the hall.  I close the door and let out a relieved breath, and then I head out to find Josephine to make sure that woman never sets foot in this office again.

Some people are seriously deranged.

***

With nothing better to do, and with my membership already paid in full, I decide to go to the gym and take advantage of their aquatics center. 

I pull on my deep purple racerback swimsuit and dive into the cool water.  I am most definitely not the best swimmer on earth, but I can manage something a little better than a dog paddle.  I complete a warm-up lap and then do a few lengths of the pool on my back and my side, using muscles I didn’t know I had. 

Leaning up against the side of the pool, I kick my legs beneath the water’s surface and people watch.  A couple frolicking has a smile playing on my lips, but as he leans in and kisses her passionately, a pang of unexpected jealousy swims through my veins.  I tramp it down and shift my eyes to the woman trying desperately to gain the attention of one of the male swimmers as he steps up onto the blocks.  His body is long and lithe, and he is wearing a pair of those tight Lycra shorts only professional swimmers can get a way with.  His abs are ripped and he is quite cute, though he looks a few years younger than me.  Probably around twenty, if I had to guess.  One of the girls giggles abruptly and adjusts her bikini top.  He doesn’t take his eyes off the water, though, so she pouts and turns back to her friends and whispers something to them.

The swimmer dives into the water and surfaces before beginning the freestyle stroke.  As he nears the group of girls, bikini-girl jumps into the water right in front of him, causing him to come to an abrupt stop.  I grin at her shamelessness and climb out of the water, shaking my head.  I wrap my towel around me and make my way into the women’s locker rooms.

Only, I accidentally end up in the men’s locker rooms instead…

Wake up.

Eat.

Work.

Go to the gym.

Go home.

Fall asleep.

Repeat.

That is my life, has been my life for the past ten years, and will continue to be life for as long as I live in the hell I’m currently in.

Stepping out of the stall, I turn and grab a towel from the shelf about my head.  The door opens and I turn to glance absently at the person entering.

She gasps and my eyes widen.  Her eyes dart down to my cock and for a brief moment I debate about whether to cover up or not.

Lazily, I swing the towel across my lower body and wait for her eyes to find mine.  Slowly, her gaze travels up over my stomach and chest until those deep blue eyes meet mine. 

She looks familiar, though I can’t place where I’ve seen her.  Even covered in a white gym-issued towel, I can see her body is smokin’.  Her blonde hair is wet and twisted up on her head, and those pouty lips are made for teasing.

“This is the men’s change room,” I tell her with a smirk.

“I, uh, I…”  With one last glance down my body, she turns and rushes out of the room.

After toweling off, I slide back into my black slacks and my white button down shirt, before tossing my gym bag over my shoulder and heading out.

Outside it’s dark and the night air is thick with humidity. 

“Where to, sir?” my driver asks me as I close the door on the car.

“Home.”

One word.  One thousand thoughts of fucking dread.

To most, their home is their safe place.  To me, it’s my hell.  I’m married to a woman I despise because I can’t be bothered to fight against the wishes of others.  Don’t get me wrong, I resisted in the beginning, then the consequences of denying my parents and Regina’s parents of their wishes, became a cross I wasn’t prepared to bear. 

“Thank you.  Have a good night,” I say to my driver as I exit the vehicle.

Walking inside, I dump my gym bag in the laundry room and make my way to the kitchen.  As usual, the maid has left my dinner in the oven.  I pull out the plate and eat the chicken calzone while standing at the bench.  No need to sit down at the ridiculously oversized dining table Regina picked out.   Rinsing my plate, I pull a beer from the fridge and make my way to my office.

I have a lot of staff working under me, so there is no need for me to put in the hours I do.  Except if I don’t, it means I have to spend more time with my wife.  That shit isn’t happening, so I work long hours almost everyday.   

My company, Duncan Realtors, is the number one real estate agency in the state.  For many years we hovered around the number four spot because we specialized purely in commercial real estate.  When I inherited the company from my father, I decided to broaden our horizons.  With a team of dedicated and highly experienced agents handpicked by me, we burst onto the scene with an explosion, and steadily climbed the ranks until we landed the coveted number one spot.  The fact that we have held steady in that position for the past eight months only proves how good we are at what we do.

Truth be told, the driving force behind my desire to excel the company came from the hope that maybe my parents would lay off me a little.  If they could see how dedicated I was, maybe they would get off my back.  Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

As if they know I’m thinking about them, my cell rings and I pull it from my pocket to see my mother’s name lighting up the screen. 

Fuck.

“Hello,” I say tiredly.

“Benjamin, I’m glad you finally answered,” my mother snaps, disdain pouring from her lips.

“I’ve been busy, mother.”

“Yes, well, your father and I have been talking, and we’ve decided you and Regina should get busy on another project.  We want grandchildren.  We’re not getting any younger, you know.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” I mutter.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Look, mother, whether Regina and I decide to have children is our decision, and our decision alone.”

“Clearly you can’t make such important decisions on your own.  You should thank your father and me for stepping in when we did and encouraging you to marry Regina.”

Encouraging?
  They cut off my fucking income and refused to reinstate it until we were married.  All because I delayed wedding someone I never loved, who I didn’t want to marry in the first place.

“You didn’t fucking encourage me, mother,” I spit, and she gasps, no doubt at my use of ‘filthy language’.  “You forced my hand and gave me no other option.  You froze my accounts and refused me any money until the day we married.”

My blood begins to boil and I wipe the sweat off my brow with the back of my hand. 

“Benjamin, you’re overreacting,” she sighs.

“I don’t think so,
Mother.
  I’m a thirty-three-year-old man who is running a highly successful business.  A business that has grown exponentially since I took over.  I don’t need your input on
anything
happening in my life.”

She huffs.  “You’ve always been an ungrateful brat.”

“Stay the fuck out of my life, or you won’t be pleased with the consequences,” I growl.  I end the call before she can reply and then throw my phone across my desk.

“Damn it!” I shout, tearing my fingers through my hair.  She makes me so fucking mad, and if I could find a way out of this mess, I would throw divorce papers at Regina and the middle finger at my parents in an instant.

If only it were that simple.

***

“Good luck tonight, Benny.   Are you going to kiss me goodbye?” Regina asks as she sidles up to me.  Her bags are packed and the driver is waiting out front.

“Have a good trip, Regina,” I mutter in lieu of giving her what she wants.

“Fine.”  She throws her handbag over her shoulder and walks out of the kitchen toward the front door. 

She has no reason to be pissed, or to expect any more than what she gets from me.  She pushed for this marriage just as hard as my parents did.  Just as hard as her parents did.  She wanted it, and she knew I didn’t.  In the end she knew the only reason I met her at the end of the altar was because I didn’t have another choice.

As the front door closes, my cell rings. 

“Morning, Estelle,” I say, greeting my assistant. 

“Good morning, Mr. Duncan.  I’ve emailed you your itinerary for tonight’s function, but I just wanted to remind you that the tailor will be visiting your house at nine a.m. to do any final adjustments to your suit.  Also, the car will be arriving to pick you up at four p.m.”

“Thank you,” I murmur. 

“Have you managed to compile a thank you speech in the
highly likely
event that you win the award tonight?”

“No.  Perhaps I’ll think about that today.” 
Not likely. 

“I knew you’d say that, so I took the liberty of putting together a little something.  It’s attached to the email with your itinerary.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Estelle.”

“I know, it’s why you pay me the big bucks, sir,” she quips.

“Have a good day.”

I end the call and make my way to the shower before the tailor is set to arrive in an under an hour.

By mid-afternoon, I am dressed and ready for the car to arrive.  I printed off the speech Estelle emailed through, had a quick read of it and made some adjustments.  I screw my cufflinks into place and give my shoes a quick polish.  A few minutes later, my phone buzzes with a text indicating the car has arrived, so I gather my things and walk out, locking the door behind me.

The John Dunston Awards night is held each year in the ballroom at the convention center.  Receiving a nomination is a highly prestigious honor in itself, and an accolade we have been granted in previous years.  However, we are yet to win an award.

I smile at familiar faces and make small talk with the likeminded people surrounding me.

“Congratulations on reaching the number one position,” Barry Weld, CEO of Sports Medicine Distribution says, shaking my hand firmly.

“Thanks, Barry.  Congratulations to you also.  I saw SMD had been nominated for an award tonight.”

He nods.  “Yes.  There’s a lot of stiff competition, though.”

“That there is.”

Our conversation is interrupted as a busty blond walks up beside us. “Gentlemen,” she purrs.

“Veronica,” Barry states.  “You’re looking gorgeous, as always, tonight.”

“Thank you, Barry,” she coos.  “And who is your friend?”

“This is Benny Duncan, from Duncan Realtors.  Benny, meet Veronica Hale.  Veronica is my associate’s assistant.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say, holding my hand out.  She takes it, shaking it limply, before turning her attention back to Barry.  She fawns over him, which he clearly revels in, so I excuse myself and take my seat before the auctions start.

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have a fantastic array of items for you to spend big on.  As always, monies raised from tonight’s auction will be donated back into our local charities, which work tirelessly in our community.  First up, we have a four-night stay at The Hamptons’ newest exclusive resort.  What an item, ladies and gentlemen!”

The bidding continues with items I am not interested in, until the final auction item is presented and I realize I haven’t bid on a single thing.  I need to do my part for the community, so without listening to what I am bidding on, I win the item for seven thousand dollars.

At least I’ve done my part.  I’ll find out what I bought at the end of the night.

As the evening turns to the awards ceremony, I sip my whiskey and wait for the presentation that matters to me most.  I am seated at a circular table with a bunch of people I have no interest in making small talk with, so I spend the time making a deal with myself.

Our family business has been nominated for an award at this particular event for the past fifteen years, yet we have never walked away with the prize.  Tonight is the first time we have been nominated for this particular award, and if I win, I’ll take it as sign that I will divorce Regina.  No more giving a shit about pleasing anyone, no more going along with my parents’ superficial social stature standards they care about.  No more giving a fuck about anyone but myself.

If my parents want to cut me off and kick me out of the business I have taken to a place that exceeded their vision and potential, then so be it.  I’ll move on, build another life myself, where I’m not constantly under someone’s thumb. 

This isn’t the life I envisioned for myself, and this definitely isn’t the man I know I am.

I buried my true self deep within my gut when I was pressured into a marriage I didn’t want a part of.  But now, that man is clawing to be let free.

And I’m determined to let him out.