ARROGANT PLAYBOY (53 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.”