Twisted Affair Vol. 1 (7 page)

As I rode the elevator down to the lobby, I realized that I hadn't checked my phone for calls from my sister. I also hadn't checked in last night. I pulled it out of my purse and saw that she'd left a text message. In typical Katka fashion, she'd simply said
I guess you got lucky. Do everything I would do. Love you
.

I smiled and shook my head. My little sister exasperated me at times and angered me at others, but I loved her. She was the only family I had left, but I would have loved her even if that wasn't the case. She was the kind of person who everyone loved. People couldn't help it. She was carefree and fun, charming and sexy. Everything I was not.

She scolded me when I said that, but it was true. I wasn't jealous of her for it though. We had been through so much and I loved that she could still smile and dance.

I climbed into the cab and gave the driver the address. We lived at the edge of Fishtown, in one of the cheaper apartments. We had gotten a good discount on it because the owner of the building came from a family who had emigrated back when our country had been Czechoslovakia. The grandmother had wanted someone to come speak Czech with her. Once a month, either Katka or I visited for tea and spoke to the woman in her native language.

I looked down at the bills in my hand. I wondered how Blayne was faring with his father. At least I was respectable looking and hadn't spoken. I could only imagine what Mr. Westmore's reaction would have been if I had been dressed like the other bartenders I had seen or if he had heard my accent. I was sure he would have assumed I was after a green card as well as money.

I did have my application in, but I refused to do things what Katka called “the easy way.” She had suggested finding someone to marry when we had first come to this country and I had immediately vetoed the idea. She still occasionally brought it up, but I was never sure if she was serious.

My sister was, for all of her flirtations, a hopeless romantic. She believed in the fairy tale happy endings. I was a realist. Blayne was a perfect example. Katka would no doubt believe that fate was bringing us together. I saw things for how they were. He'd been desperate and I had been there.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be engaged to someone like him. To be a part of that world. I knew he was wealthy the moment I had seen his address, but after I'd entered his apartment, I realized that I'd underestimated things. His father's presence this morning, coupled with Blayne's drunken ramblings at the bar last night, told me that he wasn't just rich. He was part of a world I would never be a part of, no matter what happened with my determination to become a fashion designer.

I paid the cabbie and climbed out of the car. I shivered at the brisk February air and hurried to get inside. Katka would probably be at work. She was a waitress at some bar somewhere, or at least I thought that was what she was doing now. Her jobs changed so often I didn't try to keep track anymore. I never needed to go there to talk to her and the money she earned went into the account we shared since her money managing skills were all but nonexistent.

I loved my sister, but I couldn't deny that I enjoyed having quiet moments to myself. Katka was never quiet. She was always talking about something, singing, dancing, doing something. One would think that a person nicknamed after a creature that spent most of its life sleeping would be less restless.

There was only one problem with the silent apartment that greeted me. It left me too much time with my thoughts. Thoughts that were consumed entirely too much by the handsome man with the sandy hair and dark gray eyes. I'd never seen eyes like that before, and certainly never had them look at me the way he had.

When I'd taken him back to his apartment last night, I'd written off his flirting as too much alcohol, but this morning, I saw the way he looked at me. I wasn't foolish enough to think it was anything other than admiration, but to even have someone like him think I was attractive was a heady thing.

Very much against my better judgment, my thoughts kept turning back to the curve of his mouth. The way he'd smiled. The softness of his lips when he'd been sleeping. I'd let myself look at him last night as I'd sat in the chair and waited for him to wake up. I could never do that when he was awake. Risking him believing I was interested in him wasn't an option. Even if he was attracted to me, he would never want anything other than a night of sex.

Not as if I was looking for something romantic or sexual. I didn't have the time to be involved with anyone, even for a night. It had been foolish of me to even spend the few hours I had getting Blayne home and making sure he was safe. Every waking moment I had needed to be spent either making the money required to start my own business or working on designs. No sex was good enough to make up for the time I'd have to make up to stay on track.

I had a plan, a schedule. I was twenty-three now and I fully intended to gain my citizenship and have enough collateral to get a business loan with a good interest rate by the time I was twenty-five. I would start small, selling exclusive pieces that would, by the time I was thirty, garner enough attention that I could secure a larger loan to take my business to the next level.

Perhaps after I had done all that, I would begin to consider marriage. Katka had pointed out that if I wasn't careful, I would be fifty and single with no children or husband to care for me as I passed middle age. I had countered that she had enough sex for the both of us and I wouldn't need children or a husband to care for me. I would have money enough to hire people. And I always had her.

It wasn't that I disliked sex or didn't want it, as Katka had often suggested. I just preferred to take care of sexual tension the same way I did everything else. By myself.

My thoughts took a dangerous edge, teasing me with images of Blayne. I never pictured anyone I knew when I masturbated, but it was tempting to let him star in my future fantasies. To wonder what it would be like to wake up in that apartment after having spent the night. To find his muscular arms wrapped around me, his broad chest bare. I hadn't seen anything inappropriate last night, but my imagination was doing plenty to fill in the blanks. One of the disadvantages to the way my brain worked was that I could look at an outfit on someone and generally have a good idea of what was underneath. With Blayne, my mind's eye could easily create a chiseled body that would challenge even my self-control.

“Do not be foolish,” I muttered to myself as I went into the small kitchen area to find myself something to eat. “Put him from your mind.”

I grimaced as I bent to retrieve a bottle of juice from the refrigerator. My muscles were more sore than I'd realized. The chair had been comfortable as pricey chairs went, but still not the best place to sleep. I needed to take a hot shower to work out the kinks and then get some real sleep. I had a late shift again tonight and I didn't want to be tired. Mixing drinks that way wasn't a good idea. I knew there were plenty of people who did it, but I wasn't a natural bartender. I had to concentrate to make sure I got everything right. One little mistake could cost me a tip and a single tip could mean the difference of weeks or more in starting my business.

No, no matter how appealing it was to indulge in a fantasy of rich and handsome Blayne whisking me away into a world where money was never an issue and everyone could work on their dream, it was only a fantasy. And it was pointless to waste time on something that would never happen. I needed to stay focused on reality, keep my eye on the prize. And that prize certainly didn't include a man, even one like Blayne.

Chapter 9

Blayne

I had to fight the urge to clamp my hand over my mouth in an attempt to take back the stupid thing I'd just said. I couldn't let my dad know that I'd just blurted out a fucking huge lie. I risked a look at Livie, hoping she'd understand and not say anything. Her eyes were wide and she looked startled, but not angry, so that was good. I really needed her out of here if I was going to keep up the charade. My father knew me and he'd never believe me if I wasn't all over Livie just to prove my point. Somehow, I doubted that would get the same non-angry response.

When she managed to excuse herself without blowing my cover, I breathed a silent and short-lived sigh of relief. I didn't know her well enough to say that I actually liked her, but she'd done a nice thing by bringing me home and an even nicer one by not calling out my lie. I didn't want her in the middle of the shit storm I knew was coming.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dad's voice rose as soon as the door shut. “You don't know that woman. What'd you do? Go find the cheapest whore you could and pay her to marry you?”

I tried not to think about the offer I vaguely remembered making to Livie the night before. “She's not a prostitute.” My hands curled into fists. He had no right to talk about her that way. She'd never done anything to him and it wasn't like she'd been half-naked when he'd come in. Hell, her clothes were more conservative than some of the ones I'd seen the trophy wives of his friends wearing.

“Drop the act, young man.”

Somehow, even though I was twenty-nine, my father could always make me feel like a child.

“Your behavior at dinner was reprehensible. Unforgivable.” His eyes were flashing. “I should cut you off right this instant.”

I scowled. “You told me that if I agreed to follow your rules, you wouldn't do that.”

“Exactly. After you agreed to marry Rebecca, you humiliated her and both families, got drunk and are now making up this completely ludicrous story about being engaged to a woman you clearly don't know.”

“I never agreed to marry Rebecca,” I said. “I agreed to get a job, to stop getting plastered and doing stupid things. Am I in jail this morning? Did I do something dumb last night?” I really hoped I hadn't or this was going to get so much worse.

“Don't use that tone with me.” He pointed his finger at me. “You knew exactly what you were agreeing to.”

“She didn't want to marry me, Dad,” I said. “Rebecca Stirling was being used like a fucking chess piece.”

“Watch your mouth,” he warned.

“I meant what I said at dinner.” That part of the night I remembered quite clearly. “It's bad enough that you're forcing me into this. I'm not marrying someone who's forced into it too. That's basically prostitution.”

“You're on very thin ice here, Blayne.” His mouth twisted into a smug smile. “But you've also just shot yourself in the foot.”

I frowned. What did he mean? I hadn't said anything new.

“When I first mentioned marriage to you, you said there was no way you could find someone to marry you that quickly. Then you refuse the engagement to Rebecca, citing all of those nice, noble reasons. Not once, either time, did you mention this fiancée of yours.”

Shit. He was right. My brain scrambled for a lie that he'd believe. Or at least one that would sound plausible enough he couldn't completely discount it. “Because I knew you wouldn't approve.” Yeah, that was going to make it all better. “Livie's from the Czech Republic and I knew you'd think exactly what you thought. That she's in it for the money.”

“No, I think it's the green card too.”

I kept going, pulling bits and pieces together to create something of a story. “She's a businesswoman, Dad. A legitimate businesswoman. I met her a while ago.” I had to make this realistic but not hurt Livie's reputation. The chances of this getting back to her were slim, but she didn't deserve to be subject to malicious gossip. “We had drinks and I tried to get her in bed. She turned me down flat.” That much was moderately true at least.

“And you proposed?” He raised an eyebrow, the expression on his face clearly saying he wasn't believing a word of this.

“I kept seeing her in different places and we'd always have a good time drinking and talking, but it wasn't a relationship. She was okay with keeping it casual because I never wanted anything serious, but you're forcing my hand on that one. Last night, after I left, I saw her again. I figured if I had to get married, it might as well be to someone I knew I could get along with. When I told her what you were doing, she accepted.”

Dad laughed and shook his head. “You actually expect me to believe that?” He gestured toward the door. “How much money have you spent on her? Did she ask for a big ring? A car?”

“She didn't ask for anything.” I hated that my father could think like that about someone like Livie, but the only way I could get out of it was to tell him what really happened. I was in too deep. I couldn't do that. Dad would think I was a bigger failure than he already did and I'd be out on the street, with nothing to my name. “And she's a good girl. Not from some rich or important family, but she's not the kind of person who'll shame your precious name.” I gave him a bitter smile. “I do enough of that on my own.”

He didn't contradict me.

“She has a legitimate business, dresses well and is kind and polite.” All true. “You didn't say I had to marry some up-tight snob.”

He looked at me hard and I knew he was trying to get me to crack. I'd been on the receiving end of that stare more than once. I kept looking back, my face blank. The only times he'd ever caught me in a lie were the occasions I'd done something dumb enough to leave evidence. He'd never been able to coerce me into confession and I wasn't about to let him start now.

“I may not have been specific enough regarding what constituted appropriate,” he said finally.