The Complete Arrogant Series (31 page)

Shit
.

My toes pinch as I walk, reminding me that I’m still wearing
the Christian Louboutin heels I’d slipped into per Dane’s request earlier. I
changed into a little black dress by some designer I couldn’t pronounce and
pranced around in these bad boys the rest of the afternoon. Before I left, I
changed back into my old outfit but forgot to switch shoes.

Hopefully, no one at home will notice. I doubt any of them
have ever heard of red-bottomed shoes, and I can always say they’re from
Target. No one will question me because the truth would seem more preposterous
than a lie.

I slip some coins into the phone and dial my dad’s number.

“Mark Miller,” he answers halfway through the first ring.
For someone so anti-cell phones, he’s got that thing glued to his hand most of
the time.

“Dad, it’s me,” I say.

“Bellamy?”

“Yeah, I’m calling you from a pay phone.” I press my
forehead against my balled up fist. “My check engine light came on, so I pulled
over.”

Muffled voices come through the other end like my father has
covered up the phone and is talking to someone else.

“I’m here with Cortland, and he says his uncle has a towing
business. I’ll send Cortland out to pick you up, and someone will come for the
car later tonight.”

A sick twist of relief and dread swirl in my belly.

Also, why are
they together right now
?!

“Great,” I say. “I’m at the Sierra Valley rest stop, about
twenty miles outside of town.”

“He’s leaving now, sweetie. Sit tight.”

DANE

“Right this way, Mr. Townsend. He’s been asking about you.”

I follow a middle-aged nurse in Winnie the Pooh scrubs down
a sterile hallway. At least there are no flickering lights or shit-stained
carpets. We never would’ve put him in a place like that.

“Are you sure?” I ask. “Last time, he didn’t know who I
was.”

Where the fuck is Beck? Beckham should be here. I shouldn’t
be doing this alone.

“He’s had a few lucid moments today,” she says gently. “He’s
on a high dose of morphine right now.”

She raps on the door to a dark room. It feels much later
than six o’clock in here. The drapes are pulled, and the T.V. is on, but
there’s no sound. Guess it doesn’t matter how much you shell out for a nursing
facility, all the money in the world can’t get rid of that sick, depressing
veil that saturates all who dare to enter here.

“Uncle Leo.” I have a seat in the chair next to his
half-elevated bed. His brows twist when he hears my voice, and he turns his
face toward me. It takes all the strength that man has just to open his eyes
halfway.

I place my hand over his, careful to avoid his I.V. lines.

“How are you feeling today?” I ask.

“Dane.” There’s a dry scratch in his voice, and my name
mostly comes out in a puff of air.

Fuck me. This is hard. I’m calling Beckham and chewing his
ass the second I leave here.

And then I realize he said my name. He remembers me. He’s
acknowledging me. It’s the first time in months.

“Yes, Uncle Leo. That’s right. I’m Dane.”

“Where ya been?” He sputters. His eyes are wider this time.
Brighter than ever.
He licks his dry, cracked lips and then
curls them into a mischievous smile. I see a little bit of a younger version of
him inside there.

I know he’s teasing, and I force myself to smile. It’s much
easier to smile right now than to think about the fact that this
seventy-year-old beautiful bastard’s days are numbered.

“Where’s your brother?” His brows straighten.

“He was supposed to fly in this afternoon.” I shrug. “I bet
he’ll be here tomorrow at the latest. He wants to see you.”

“Tell him to give his cock a rest for a change.” Uncle Leo
laughs, which turns into a coughing fit. He knows damn well about Beckham’s
reputation as a ladies’ man, after all he learned from the best. “Man thinks
he’s a Goddamn sheik.”

“Well, he did change his last name to King...”

“Sorry to interrupt,” an orderly in a white outfit comes in
with a paper cup and a glass of water. “It’s time for your meds, Leo.”

It’s crazy to watch a man I once idolized lying feeble and
dying in a small ten by ten room at a hospice center.

Fuck pancreatic cancer.

The doctor called us yesterday, told us Uncle Leo doesn’t
have more than a week left.

I wait for the orderly to leave before scooting closer. I’ll
be here all damn night. I’m not leaving for anyone or anything. The light in
his eyes is flickering, and I’d give anything to hear one of his stories one
last time before he goes.

“Hey, Daney-boy, can you hit that button for me.” His grip
loosens from a button connected to his morphine drip. “Give me some of the good
stuff, will ya?”

I press the button for him, knowing it’s only a matter of
time before he forgets who I am again.

BELLAMY

I count thirty-five black cars passing until one slows down
and veers off the exit ramp toward the rest stop.

There he is, my knight in shining armor riding up on his big
black steed.

Actually, it’s more like a miniature pony, since it’s an
economy car. He just thinks it’s fancy since it has remote start and a sunroof.

But I digress.

I peel myself up off the park bench at the last possible
moment and angle my hand over my eyes, squinting into the passenger seat of his
car to see who my father sent to tag along with him for supervisory reasons.

Oh shoot.

He’s alone.

There’s no
way
my
father would’ve sent him alone. Does he know what happens when you ride in cars
with boys? Does he know what happens when you put your twenty-two-year-old
daughter alone with a crazy Cortland McGregor?

He hops out and rushes up to me, slipping his arms around me
like we didn’t just see each other last night. He grabs the flesh of my
backside, roughing me up and pulling me into him as he tries to kiss me. I
twist my head, letting him have my cheek.

“What the hell? What’s your problem? Got your panties all
twisted just because your car broke down?” Cortland leans in for another kiss.

Hope he likes the way Dane’s cock tastes.

I let him kiss me this time because I’m afraid of what he’ll
do if I don’t.

It’s funny how Dane can tie me up, rough me up, and have his
way with me, and it doesn’t scare me a bit. But the way Cortland touches me,
like he’s
entitled
to touch me,
terrifies me through and through.

I wonder what Dane would do if I texted him right now?

“You smell different,” Cortland says.

That would be
the new perfume I got from my soon-to-be lover...

Five fragrances for all kinds of different occasions, though
he did say he enjoyed what I already wear.

“There are a lot of women in the office,” I say. “Lots of
smells. They all mix. You’re probably smelling that.”

“No, it’s like cologne or something?” He wrinkles his nose
and then checks his watch. “Why are you late today?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t you get off at five? You didn’t call your dad until
around six, so you were, like, going to be a half-hour late coming home.”

“Are you serious right now, Cortland?”

“Oh, come on. I’m asking for safety reasons.”

Safety reasons my ass.

“I like to know where you are, you know, in case something
happens.” He places his hand on my back and walks me to the passenger door of
his car like he’s suddenly some noble gentleman. “I worry about you, Bellamy.
That’s all.”

More like you
worry about losing control over me.

I wait for him to climb in and start his car up before
asking my burning question. “How did you convince my father to let you come by
yourself?”

Cortland lifts an eyebrow. “He trusts me.”

“All of a sudden he trusts you to be alone with me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He shifts into reverse and backs out. “Told
you your father would love me.”

I fasten my seatbelt and lean against the cool glass to my
right. If I could get any further away from him, I would. I’d sooner ride on
top of the hood of the car than spend the next several miles sitting next to
this asshole.

His hand flies over, landing on my knee before creeping
under my skirt and trailing up my inner thigh. My knees instinctively smash
together in defense, but he pulls my leg toward him.

“Don’t fight it. Don’t act like you’re all prude now. I know
better,” he says, his fingers tracing the outside of my panties. “Damn, you’re
wet. I knew it!”

My heart pounds harder and stronger in my chest. I’m
convinced he’s two seconds from accusing me of being with another man.

It’s all going to end. It’ll all be for nothing.

“I still have it, Bellamy,” he boasts. “I can still get you
wetter than sin. I knew you missed me.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. Not only is he an asshole,
but
he’s also impossibly dense. Although I suppose, once
again, this would be a situation where the truth would be stranger than
fiction. No one I know would believe me if I told them I’m two days in on my
new job, and I spent the morning trying on lingerie and exchanging oral sex
with my incredibly handsome, amazingly well-endowed, curiously powerful, and
obnoxiously arrogant boss.

Cortland merges into traffic, and I reach for my purse on
the floorboard, pretending to fish around. I grab my phone and type off a quick
text to Dane.

I’M WET FOR
YOU RIGHT NOW.

I combat the grin that wants to claim my lips. He’s going to
love that text. What man wouldn’t? He should know that even when I’m not with
him, he still has the power to liquefy my desire.

I keep my purse in my lap, hoping that if it vibrates I’ll
feel it.

“If we had a few minutes to spare, I’d pull over and hop in the
back with you,” Cortland says. “Old times’ sake.”

“It’ll be much more special if we just hold off on
everything until our wedding night.” Yeah, our wedding that is
never
going to happen. Not while I have
any ounce of fight left in me.

“I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

“I don’t know that you have a choice.” I almost add that
he’ll have to take that up with my father, but I don’t want to give him any
ideas.

My phone doesn’t vibrate at all over the next twenty miles.
I thought for sure he would love hearing that. After all, he said his goal is
to keep me thinking about him sexually
all
the time, even when he’s not around.

Cortland pulls into my driveway, and I hate not seeing my
car parked out front. I’m trapped now more than ever. And how the hell am I
going to get to work in the morning?

“I need a phone, Dad,” I say as I climb out of the car. Dad
is pulling dead flowers from the landscaping out front with
Summer
.
They’re both glazed in a thin coating of dirt and sweat.
 
“I barely had enough money for a
payphone, and what if I wouldn’t have been close to a rest stop? Someone
could’ve pulled over and kidnapped me.”

Dramatic always works well with him.

“Either I need a cell phone or a reliable car,” I add. The
either/or thing always worked on my younger brothers and sisters, so I may as
well try it with him. You don’t ask yes or no questions, you give two options,
and then they end up picking one.

Dad drags his forearm across his brow, pursing his lips
together. “Yeah, okay. You can have a phone. But just while you’re commuting to
the city.”

Was it really
just that easy?

“Uncle James is going to tow the Chrysler to your uncle’s
shop,” Cortland says.

“How am I going to get to work tomorrow?” Burning panic
rises in my throat, but I force it out of my voice. They can’t know how
important it is that I never miss a single day of work. “Can I borrow Kath’s
car?”

“No, no,”
Summer
says. “Kath’s
doing school drop offs all week, and I’m going to be restocking shelves at the
pharmacy.”

“What about Mom’s car?” I ask.

Summer scoffs. We both know what that means. Mom doesn’t let
anyone drive her car at all, no matter what. And not even Dad argues with her.
It’s the only brand new car she’s ever had in her forty-odd years, and the only
car Dad’s ever let her hand select. She loves that thing more than she loves
us.

“I can take you,” Cortland offers.

I look to my dad, hoping against hope he says no. Then
again, why would he if he allowed Cortland to come pick me up tonight?

“How will I get home? See, this is why I need to drive
myself.”

“Bellamy, calm down,” Summer chuckles, walking up to me and
hooking her dirt-stained hand on my shoulder. Does she not know I have to wear
this to work? “We’ll get this figured out. I know it’s your first week, but
geez Louise.
Woosah
.”

I hate when she says that, then again, most of her
expressions grate on my nerves.

“Cortland can take you until your car gets fixed,” Dad says,
wiping his hands on a rag sticking out of his jeans pocket. His watchful stare
darts between our faces as if he’s trying to instill a silent warning. “I’ll
send Waverly or one of your mothers to pick you up.”

Great. I’m sure Dane finds nothing sexier than a
twenty-two-year-old in high heels and on all fours all day long getting picked
up by her kid sister.

“I better head out,” Cortland says. “Told my dad I’d grab
some things from the store on the way home. I’ll see you in the morning,
Bellamy. What time do you need picked up?”

My jaw unclenches just enough for me to tell him seven. “And
please
don’t be late.”