PLAYED - A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE (64 page)

“Sounds
like they don’t have a clue what they’re doing,” I said, and that much was a
genuine commentary on the matter. I had learned enough from my father, not to
mention Harvard, to know an incompetently-run business when I saw one. Or, in
this case, heard of one. “You were probably lucky to get out.”

Maddy
snorted. “Yeah, in one way, but what about the other? I’m broke, Preston. Or I
will be once I handle my bills and rent this month. My lease isn’t up for
another eight months, and if I break it early, I’ll owe my landlord
thousands.
” She continued to fret until
the waiter came over to take her order. As she struggled with remembering the
name, I interrupted.

“She’ll
have the beef bourguignon with your Chateau Musar 2011 Jeune Rouge. Bring the
bottle.”

Maddy
finally seemed to relax some at the promise of wine. Or at least, she did until
the waiter turned to me and asked, “And for the lady’s date?”

I
laughed. It wasn’t meant to offend Maddy, but I could see her cheeks flush. I
waved my hand. “No, no. We’re not… she’s my sister. Well, she will be, anyway.”

“I
see,” the waiter said. “My apologies. What can I get for you, Mr. Harvey?”

“The
twelve-ounce Wagyu A5 Kobe, served New York strip-style,” I said. It was one of
my favorites. Most people were told to order a day in advance, but I wasn’t
most people. “With the regular sides.”

“Very
good, Mr. Harvey,” he said. It seemed strange that he knew my name but I
couldn’t remember his face, let alone anything else about him. The hostess
probably tipped him off. That’s just good service. The waiter took our menus
and hurried off in the direction of the kitchen while I turned my gaze back on
Madison.

“Where
were we?”

She
blinked. “You were ordering five hundred dollars in beef, and I was telling you
about how broke I am.”

I
winced. “Right. Uh. Go on.”

She
sighed, slumping back in her chair and tucking a strand of her chocolate brown
hair behind her ear. I liked the way her nose twitched when she brushed the
lock away from her face. It made the light dusting of freckles over the bridge
of it dance.

“It
wasn’t just stuff like that, though. There were other things that happened
there. A lot of harassment, sexual and otherwise.” She didn’t look at me when
she said the words, like she was ashamed of something that had been done to her
by people outside of her control. “What kind of place lets their managers call
their administrative assistant a cunt right to her face, just because she
disagrees with him about a decision?”

I
almost choked on my water. I glanced around to see if anyone else had heard my
stepsister utter the dreaded c-word. “Christ. Didn’t you tell HR?”

“Of
course I did,” she answered. “But what do you expect them to do about it? It’s
my word against a supervisor’s, and as I understand it, that supervisor and the
HR director are very good friends.”

“So…
I don’t know, go over her head. Write the CEO, if you have to.”

She
laughed. “Right. The CEO who doesn’t know my name, who makes more money in a
day than I do in a year. He’s going to come fight my battles? I’d ask if you’d
been drinking, but they haven’t even brought the wine yet.”

“There
has to be something,” I insisted. I could feel my blood rushing now, boiling,
burning in my chest. I didn’t get worked up about a lot of things, but for some
reason the idea of someone hurting Maddy had me seeing red. “You don’t deserve
to be treated like that, Madison. Not by anyone. Ever.”

She
looked at me for a long time, silent and wide-eyed. There was something
scrutinizing about her gaze, like she was searching my eyes for some kind of
answer. By the time her lips parted, the waiter had returned and set the bottle
of wine on the table between us.

“Shall
I pour?” he asked me.

I
tore my gaze away from Maddy. “No. I think we’ve got it.”

Although
he let us be, the moment—whatever it was—was now gone. Maddy was now more
interested in the wine than whatever she’d been on the cusp of saying, and I
didn’t know how to ask her what exactly had been on her mind. I didn’t want to
push things with her. After all, this was the first real conversation we’d ever
had, and I worried that prying too hard would be a recipe for disaster.

But
the more I thought about her predicament—her job, her finances, the
cold-hearted bitch her mother was—the more I realized that I did, in fact, have
an answer. It was the answer to the question she hadn’t asked, the question
that maybe she was too proud to. But I had it all the same, and now that I
understood what her silence had meant, I knew what I had to do.

I
was going to change Madison Hearst’s life forever. She just didn’t know it yet.

And
maybe, just maybe, I could kill two birds with one stone.

To
my utter shock, lunch with my
brother-to-be wasn’t the disaster I’d imagined.

Preston
was a spoiled brat. I’d gleaned that much on the first day I’d met him. He’d
rolled up late to a family dinner in a shiny new Tesla with a devil-may-care grin
and lipstick stains on his collar. I immediately knew everything I needed to
know about him from that point on—or so I’d thought.

The
man sitting in front of me in the restaurant was a completely different guy. He
was genuinely concerned about me, my job, and my future. He made me laugh and
didn’t make me feel ashamed for crying. I was starting to think maybe I hadn’t
given him a fair chance. Sure, he’d always be the rich kid and I’d always be
the poor one, but there was no reason we couldn’t be civil.

By
the time we left the restaurant, I was feeling better. I still didn’t have a
game plan, but at least it felt like someone was on my side in spirit. That
meant a lot, not feeling alone.

“Do
you have a car?” he asked me.

Slowly,
I shook my head. The daylight was a little disorienting after spending over an
hour in the dimly-lit café. “No. I take the bus wherever I need to go.”

Preston
wrinkled his nose at me. “Seriously? What about when you need groceries?”

I
shrugged. “Not all of us can afford eighty-five thousand dollar cars, Preston.”
And then, in an effort to be less defensive, I added: “It’s only me, so I try
to only get a little at a time. Lightweight stuff. Then I carry it back on the
bus with me. It’s better if you use those reusable bags. They don’t break like
the plastic ones do.”

He
stared at me like I was from some other world. Maybe to him, I was. All he’d
ever known were luxury vehicles, grand manses and summer homes, penthouse
suites and personal chefs. He’d never wanted for anything a day in his life,
and I sincerely doubted that Preston Harvey ever took the bus—even to school.

But
he didn’t say anything. He kept his face a slate as he offered, “Well, you
can’t walk home in those.” He nodded to my shoes. “I’ll drive you.”

I
raised my brows. “Really? You want to spend more time with your stepsister?”

He
smiled and shrugged, his buff shoulders rippling underneath his button-down. He
had the blazer draped over his arm, and I didn’t blame him. It was warm out.

“You’re
not all that bad,” he informed me. When I pursed my lips, he chuckled again.
“Hopefully you can say the same for me.”

“Maybe,”
I relented. “I’ll say this for you: you’re definitely not who I’d expected
you’d be.”

Now
it was Preston’s turn to arch an eyebrow. “And who were you expecting?”

“The
guy who showed up late to dinner,” I said. “The one who looked like he’d just
rolled out of bed with a woman. You know. A playboy. An elitist fuck.”

Preston
grinned from ear to ear, one of those shit-eating grins that would have looked
infuriating on anyone else. And it
did
look infuriating on him, too. Just not in the way I had anticipated. Beneath my
annoyance was amusement, though I was loath to let it show. There was something
about him, something I couldn’t quite place, but the more I was in his company,
the less irritating he seemed.

I
studied his face for a moment. The sun made his short, tawny hair glitter like
gold, and his impossibly blue eyes sparkled like the clearest diamonds I’d ever
seen. No, that wasn’t right. They were more like the bottom of a glacier: a
deep, frigid hue locked away beneath a layer of ice that somehow seemed to be
melting the more I stared at him.

I
turned away, my heart beating in my ears and my cheeks heating up. Preston was
very handsome. Maybe if we’d met under different circumstances… Maybe if our
lives weren’t quite so different…

“All
right,” I said, trying to clear the awkward silence between us. “I’ll go with
you. I’m really not all that far from here, so you shouldn’t waste too much time.”

Preston
shot me a look meant to remind me that time wasn’t something he particularly
worried about. Then he ushered me down the sidewalk to his car, that beautiful
Tesla I’d seen parked in the driveway of his father’s estate the first day I’d
met him.

I
supposed billionaires and their sons could do as they pleased, but I had to
admit that I’d expected Preston to have some sort of driver. Then again, from
his suit, it looked like he might have just come from a business meeting. I
thought about asking him what it was about, but I didn’t know a thing about his
father’s company and in all likelihood, knowing the details would only bore me.

I
slid into the seat next to him, letting the cream-colored leather cradle my
body. It was supple and buttery, smooth and warm, just the right temperature
from having sat out in the sun half the afternoon. I had to admit that I loved
the car’s design. The angles and planes were just so masculine, so clean, and
the digital dashboard display was just plain nifty.

I
watched him plug in my address to the built-in GPS system between the air
vents. When he pulled out of the spot he’d parallel parked it, it was like we’d
hardly moved until he pressed the accelerator and forced me hard into the back
of my seat. The display of manly car-grunt complete, we settled into the little
trip.

“I
have to admit, this is a really nice ride,” I told him, admiring the contrast
between the beige bottom half of the dashboard and the charcoal-colored top.
“Smooth, too. Feels like we’re floating.”

“And
it’s eco-friendly,” Preston said, putting on a pair of sunglasses as he merged
into heavier traffic. “That’s sort of a pet interest of mine. My father owns
enough factories to personally be responsible for the depletion of the ozone
layer, but just because he doesn’t see how harmful it is doesn’t mean I don’t.
One day, when he’s gone, I’ll change things.”

I
blinked, impressed. “You’re going to save the planet?
 
Duly noted. Any other hobbies I should
know about?”

Preston
smiled. “Well, I like sailing. I like the vastness of the ocean, how you can
just ride out into the center of it and there’s no one for miles around. It’s
kind of like meditating, only I don’t have to clear my mind—the sea does it for
me.” Though I couldn’t see his eyes, I thought Preston looked a little wistful.
“I haven’t been out there in a while, though. Not since our parents got
engaged.”

“What
does that have to do with anything?” I asked him.

He
sighed, turning down one of the side streets the GPS had ordered him onto.
“Ever since my father decided to remarry, he’s been gung-ho about inducting me
into the family business—more so than usual. My best guess is that he’s
considering an early retirement, but that he wants to keep the money flowing in
without having to worry about what a board of directors might do with it in his
absence. That falls on my shoulders. Hell, the honeymoon they’re planning means
he’ll be gone over a month, and I guess that’s when he intends to hand over all
of the control and responsibilities to me.”

“Jeez,”
I muttered, looking out the window at the city passing us by. “What the hell
are they going to do for over a month, anyway?” I winced once I heard the words
come out of my mouth. “Ugh, no. Don’t tell me. I
really
don’t want to know.”

Preston
laughed. I was beginning to like the sound of it. “Neither do I. So let’s talk
about something else…” He eyed me over his shades at an intersection. “Since
we’re on the subject of love lives, how’s yours?”

I
rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help but smile as well. “Nonexistent. You don’t
have to worry about me flying off for over a month any time soon.”

“Not
even a boyfriend?”

“No.
Not for a while.”

“Girlfriend?”

I
looked back over at him and sighed, shaking my head. “What about you?”

He
hesitated long enough for me to get the idea that if there was someone, it
wasn’t an official someone—or at least, nobody that he wanted to admit to. I
briefly wondered if Preston was the sort of man who used his wealth to rent out
escorts, but then I considered how attractive he was. With those muscles and
that face, there was no way he had any trouble picking up women for free, or as
“free” as a billionaire could get away with, I supposed.

“Not
really,” he settled on at last. “No one I would bring home, anyway. There’s
this girl, but…” He trailed off as he moved through the light. “We’re not in
love, or anything. She doesn’t respect my boundaries. I called it off a few
weeks ago, but she still got her claws in me. I have a feeling it’s going to
get messy.”

I
was surprised he was being so honest with me. Surprised, and impressed. Preston
was inspiring a lot of that in me lately. Maybe I’d finally found a family
member who gave a shit about someone other than themselves.

“If
you’re not happy, it’s better to cut things off now. Cold turkey,” I assured
him, dispensing my first piece of possibly-unsolicited sisterly advice. “The
longer you drag things out, the worse it will be in the end. If she’s as bad at
reading your intentions as you say, then giving her any hope might seem like
some kind of promise. And next thing you know, you’re screwed.”

Preston
nodded slowly. I could tell by the way the muscle twitched in his jaw that he
was mulling over everything I’d just said. “You know, I was thinking the exact
same thing. Still, it’s hard to let someone down like that, especially when you
think they might go off the deep end the moment you do.”

“It’s
better either way,” I said. “Trust me. I’ve lived through it. I know.”

It
was true. My last relationship had ended badly. We’d been together two years,
and they were the most hellish of my life. Sometimes I couldn’t figure out
which was more abusive: Tyler—my ex—or my job.

Former job,
I reminded
myself as my apartment building came into view. The trip hadn’t lasted very
long. It really put into perspective what a roundabout way the bus took.
All this family bonding has been great and
everything, but don’t forget: you’re still screwed.

As
soon as Preston put the Tesla into park, I could feel a panic attack swelling
in my chest. I sat still for a moment, trying not to think about how bad things
were, how this might be the last month I’d spend living in my upstairs
apartment. I felt sick to my stomach suddenly, like I was going to throw up,
but then Preston put his hand over mine and I gasped out loud.

“Are
you okay?” he asked me.

I
turned. His face was so close to mine that I could smell his cologne. There was
something luxurious and silken about it, maybe Givenchy or Clive Christian. The
latter wouldn’t surprise me. It was the most expensive cologne in the world,
but someone like Preston Harvey could certainly afford it.

Right
now, I wasn’t thinking about his money. I was thinking about the flash of his
eyes, the sharp cut of his jaw, the soft strength of his hand holding mine. On
some strange instinct, I lifted my thumb out from beneath his palm and caressed
the backs of his fingers, brushing the pad down from his knuckles to the tips
of his nails.

He
didn’t move his hand away, nor did he tear his eyes from mine. There was
comfort in his embrace, but the longer our hands remained entwined, the more I
felt that solace shift to something more.