Twisted Proposal (33 page)

“What? Not your cup of tea?” asked the bartender.

“What’s his name?”

“Quentin DeMont. His dad owns this boat.”

“Nice.”

“I guess. What about you and me get a bite to eat after this party?” he asked.

“Give me your number, and I’ll let you know.” He wrote his number on a napkin, and I put it in my purse. The room was hot and stuffy, so I decided to go upstairs for some fresh air. I made eye contact with Quentin briefly. It was only a matter of time before he’d investigate. He seemed bored with his current situation. 

I hoped he didn’t show. I was tired and wanted to go home. I sipped my third drink and stared out into the night sky.
What did it matter if I kept the attention of this guy? I was ultimately Jackson’s, right?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was up here,” a voice said from behind me. Quentin. He hesitated, then turned to go.

“No, you’re the birthday boy. I’ll leave.” As I walked past him, he stopped me.

“You have to be the first girl who hasn’t hit on me tonight. Would you please join me?” He pointed to a couple of lounge chairs. “So, who invited you to the party?” he asked as we sat down.

“Rory. I met him playing volleyball on the beach earlier this week.”

“Nice.” He didn’t care. There was something on his mind, and it wasn’t me.

I scooted closer to him and rested my head on back of the chair and looked up at the stars. “You know my mother used to claim that my future was written in the stars.”

“Hmmm…sounds like a good way to put a kid with a vivid imagination to bed.” He laughed, and I smiled.

We spent the rest of boat ride on the deck talking about the stars and his father’s plans for him once he graduated. This led into a discussion about my plans. It was the first time that someone had asked since I had moved in with Stuart and my step-family. At first, I didn’t know what to say. Then, after he persisted, I told him I wanted to be a doctor. He didn’t laugh like Elizabeth did or make fun of me the way the kids at my old school did. It was sweet, and I liked that.

When his phone rang, I excused myself and walked to the bow where I leaned over the railing.  The water below glowed and sparkled, reflecting the running lights on the boat.

A few minutes later, he joined me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “You know, we can stay here all night if you want to.”

“From the phone call you just had, I would guess you need to be somewhere.”

“True,” he said.

I turned around and kissed him. From the way he returned the kiss, I knew he was mine.

We broke apart when the boat docked. I turned and watched crowd fan out into the darkness on the shore. Everyone had someplace to go.

Quentin touched my shoulder, and I faced him. He shook his head. “I don’t want to leave. This night has been pretty good, well since escaping that party.” He stared at me.

“I do have to admit it was interesting.”

“Would you like to accompany me back to my hotel?” His voice was hesitant, like a young boy asking a girl to the prom.

I didn’t want to, but I knew Jackson was watching somewhere. He always was.

“I promise. No funny business!” He held his hands up, and I almost laughed.

              “Sure, I’ll come over for a bit,” I replied, and he kissed me again before we went downstairs. I didn’t see Jackson anywhere as we exited the boat and climbed into Quentin's waiting limo. Carli had disappeared as well.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Inside the car, Quentin poured me a glass of champagne. Then we made out until the car stopped in front of his place. An elevator swept us up to the penthouse. To my amazement, Jackson and a few other guys were already there. I still didn’t see Carli anywhere, but a few other girls were there, giving me the evil eye as I followed Quentin past them to an adjacent room.

He shut the door and handed me another glass of champagne, this one with a cherry in the bottom of it. “So let’s get down to business, shall we?  Why don’t you begin by telling me who is responsible for you being here? I know Rory and you met on the beach, but out with it.”

Had I missed something? What was going on?

“As in?” I fished for information.

“They all want to be in, but who brought you here?”

I nodded and stood. “Jackson Van Buren.” This whole scene had a bad smell to it, and I was ready to leave.

“Sit. We’re not finished.” He swore under his breath.

I hesitated, then perched on edge of the couch. Leaning forward carefully, I set my drink on the table and watched him. This guy was nuttier than Jackson. He took a seat opposite of me.

“I honestly can’t stand him, but his dad is very persuasive.” He stared at my champagne glass. “So…what are you going to do to persuade me to choose him?” Raising his head, he peered at me with a calculated interest that sent chills down my back.

I laughed, trying to cover my nervousness.
He had to be kidding, right?
"No," I said as I rose from the couch. "Nothing. I'm not going to do a thing." I hurried out of the room, not waiting to hear his answer. I wasn’t going to put up with that shit. I made it to the elevator before Quentin caught up with me.

He grabbed my arm and spun me around as the elevator doors opened behind me. “I will not be laughed at!”

Pretending a bravado I didn't feel, I shook my head. “What? Am I supposed to be impressed?”

He turned the elevator off. Before he say another word, I kissed him. It was like setting a match. He pressed me flat against the wall, kissing me so hard my lips felt bruised. The call buttons for the elevator ground into my back.

Breathing hard, he released me and backed away. “You’re crazy.”

“Am I?” I shrugged and stepped into the elevator. I wanted out of there, away from this twisted scene, but Quentin was too quick. He shoved past me and punched a button on the wall. As the doors closed, I slid over to the far corner. We stopped on the floor below, and the doors glided open, revealing Jackson leaning against the wall. He had a smirk on his face.

Quentin waved his arm at Jackson, motioning for him to enter the elevator. “Please join us, Van Buren. I do believe we have business to discuss.”

Jackson eased in and stood next to me, holding my hand possessively. Quentin operated the elevator. No one spoke until we were all sitting again in Quentin's formal living room. Quentin strode to a portable bar and began to make each of us a stiff drink.

“What will it take?” Quentin asked after he handed our drinks to us. He leaned back against the couch, eyeing Jackson. I took a sip of my drink and swallowed, welcoming the burn in my throat.
What were they talking about?

“She’s not an option,” Jackson said.

“Then, why are we here?”

Jackson nodded and peered at me. He drained his glass. “Can you guarantee me a spot?”

“It’s possible.”

“Possible is not good enough. I want in, and I want your word.”

Quentin looked at me and then back to him. “Fine, but I keep her until Saturday.”

"You mean Carli, right?" I said, my voice rising. "You want to keep Carli here, Quentin?"

The two of them ignored me. “No way,” Jackson said. He gripped my hand. "She's mine."

Quentin didn't blink. “I’ll make the call now and even give you my pin.”

Jackson seemed to think this over. He nodded slightly, then released my hand. I tried to grab it back, but he swatted me away.

Quentin made a call. “Van Buren’s in. Move him to slot number one.” Then he took off his pin and placed it on Jackson’s collar. “I’ll leave you two to discuss how this is going to work out.” He left us alone.

Jackson didn’t say anything. Refusing to look at me, he rose to leave.

“Where do you think you’re going?”  I said, not believing what was happening.  I wasn’t some prostitute.

“Home. And you, my dear, are going to do what you do best.” He walked toward the elevator.

I rushed after him. “I don’t think so. You’re not leaving me here after you …you just. God, you disgust me.”

Jackson glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “Addison, why don’t you enjoy the experience? I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I wanted to throw my glass at him, but I had left it on the table.

“It means that, if you do this for me, I do something for you in the future. This is nothing more than a business arrangement.”

I stepped away from the elevator doors and watched as they closed.
What now? Should I go through it?
But if I did this for him, then maybe I could get something I wanted. Maybe I could get Jackson to release me from the engagement. I returned to the table and chugged my drink before I began the walk of shame.

The television was blaring when I knocked on Quentin's bedroom.  He lowered the sound and called for me to come in. I was surprised to see him wearing a white tee shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants. Not quite what I had pictured.

“I’m sorry he put you through that.” He patted the bed. “Sit. I don’t want to have sex with you. I just wanted to see what he valued the most. And it’s obviously you.”

I wasn't so sure about that because Jackson was perfectly willing to trade me off for a membership in Quentin's stupid fraternity. But there was no way I was going to let this loser make me feel bad. I was in charge now. I walked over to him. “Shut up," I said as I squeezed between his legs, "and help me take my dress off.”

At first, he was confused. Then I kissed him like I meant it, and he understood. There wasn’t much talking about anything else. Afterward, we shared a cigarette. It cut the nausea that racked my stomach.

Quentin took a drag on cigarette and passed it back to me. “So how much is he paying you?”

“Who?”

“Jackson.”

“Ouch.” After stubbing the cigarette out in an empty glass on the bedside table, I sat up. “I’m not on his payroll. Hell, if I were, maybe that would make things easier.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Nothing,” I said as I left for the restroom. After I had cleaned up, I fell into the bed and dropped off to sleep. When I woke in the morning, I was alone.

There was a note on Quentin’s pillow instructing me to order whatever I wanted for breakfast. He requested I join him for lunch.

For a while, I roamed the apartment, checking out the food in the kitchen (healthy and vegan), his closet (all designer goods), and his impressive library (stocked with intriguing bound books I planned to look at later). Then I returned to his workout room where I jogged on the treadmill for ten miles. It cleared my head. Afterward, I took a luxurious hot shower, turning the final setting to steam, which relaxed my muscles. The bathroom door opened while I was drying off. Jackson stood there with a strange look on his face. He didn’t say a word. He stepped into the room, grabbed the base of my neck, and kissed me hard.

“You’re mine,” he said.  He still had his fingers laced around my throat. He could strangle me if he wanted.

I remained perfectly still. “I know,” I replied. “Did you get what you wanted?”

He waggled his ring finger in front of my face, showing me a gold band that sported the fraternity emblem, then kissed me again, this time more gently.

When he finally left, I burst into tears. I hated this. There had to be something wrong with me.
Was I glutton for punishment--or worse? A nympho?

I dried my tears on a towel and got dressed in the outfit that had been left for me on the bed. Then I retreated to Quentin's library. Reading had always been an escape, and it would be now. I examined the shelves. So many great books to choose from. It was hard to decide. I picked up a copy of
Leaves of Grass
.

“You are the only girl I know who’d rather read Whitman than watch television,” Quentin said as he strode into the room. He was smiling.

“I’m not most girls.” I put the book down.

“I bought you something while I was out.”

“You didn’t have to.” He dropped a package on my lap. Gingerly, I opened the velvet box. Inside was a gold necklace with a diamond and sapphire pendant. At least, I thought the jewels were real. I was afraid to touch. I closed the box and handed it back to him.

“You don’t like it?”

“No, it’s not that,” I said as I stood. I had to get this over with before it went too far. “We had a good night last night, but that’s all it was.”

“If you were my girlfriend, I swear I would do everything in my power to make you happy. I would --”

I put my finger over his lips. “There’s nothing you can do. I’m not choosing you,” I said and then left.

*  *  *

Carli was eating pizza on the bed and watching television when I walked into the hotel room. “Hey,” I said. Ignoring me, she took another bite. I turned the television off and snatched the pizza out of her hand. “Come on. We’re going out.”

“No, I don’t want to. I’m worthless.” She made a pouty face and pulled away from me. This chick didn’t get it. She had no idea how lucky she was. I coaxed her into the bathroom where I made her get dressed. Then we went to the nearest mall.

We shopped for three hours before she finally started talking. She didn’t mention Jackson at all.

That night, we went to a dance club where Carli was back to her flirty fun self. Perhaps the worst was over. Then we returned to our hotel.

Jackson was waiting for us in the lobby. Carli disappeared upstairs.

I walked over to him, smiling as though nothing had happened the night before.

“I need you to do something for me,” he said.

“Haven’t I done enough?” 

“I am officially in the frat, but can you spend another day with Quentin? If you do, he promised I’d be his right-hand man.”

This scene was so demented. “No. I’m done. Have Carli do it.” The elevator doors whooshed open, and I rushed in but not fast enough to keep him out.

He hit the stop button. “You’re doing it. He’ll be here tomorrow at 8:00 a.m., so be ready.” He put on his shades and exited the elevator.

Carli was already asleep when I walked in. I changed and slid into bed. I didn’t want to be in the middle of Jackson and Quentin and wished I’d never even decided to come here. 

The next day, Quentin wanted to show me everything he could offer me that Jackson couldn’t, except I didn’t really care about any of it. He realized the truth later that night when we were lying in bed.

“What does Jackson have on you?” he asked as he stroked my arm. I wished I could fall for him, but it would be disastrous. I had too much invested in school and my future.

“Nothing.” I kissed him to stop the questions. He handed me another gift bag. Inside was a first class plane ticket to New York City. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. My flight leaves in the morning. I hope you’re on it.” He kissed me one more time before he left.

I sat in the bed alone for a long time, staring at that ticket. This could be my exit plan. I could finally escape Jackson, Stuart, and all of their wild schemes. New York City. Not my first cup of tea, but it would do. And I would be safe.

I said nothing to Carli because I wasn't sure I could trust her. To keep her occupied, I indulged her with a trip to the spa, courtesy of Stuart. Then I called Jackson to let him know I was back. Everyone was happy as clams as I settled into bed that night. Smiling, I prayed everything would work out.

My phone vibrated at 6:00 a.m., and I dressed quickly in the bathroom so I wouldn't wake Carli. Then I took a cab to the airport and checked in to the flight to New York.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jackson asked from behind me. I was staring at the overhead monitor, trying to figure out which gate my flight departed from.

“Nowhere,” I said, hurrying toward the line for security. If I could get through there, Jackson couldn't follow me without a ticket. .

But Jackson was undeterred. He rushed after me, yelling, “You can’t actually believe I’m going to let you go with him. He’s twice your age.”

Furious, I whipped around to face him. “And?” Jackson wasn’t going to tell me what I could and couldn’t do anymore. Not when I had a way out.

He gripped my elbow and dragged me toward him. “You’re not going.”

“Let me go, or I’ll scream.”

“Do that and I'll break your arm. That will be the least of your worries.”

The look in his eyes terrified me. I knew he wouldn't hesitate to kill me if he thought he could get away with it. “You can’t keep doing this. You don’t own me." But my voice was feeble, and I didn't resist when he continued pulling me toward the exit.