Duping Cupid (A Valentine's Day Short Story) (12 page)

“Hey, boy.” He bent and petted the pup’s head.

Meanwhile,
Vivi grabbed her black beaded clutch and checked the contents. Satisfied, she nodded at Julian. “Let’s do it.”

The phone rang as they headed out the door, and
Julian paused in the hall. “You wanna get that?”

“Nope.”
She smiled. “That’s what voicemail is for.” She twisted the key in the deadbolt, heard the beep, followed by Bass’s voice.

“
Vivi? I know you’re mad and I want to explain. Please. Don’t go anywhere. I’m on my way over.”

Too late, Bass
. Dropping her keys in her clutch, she took Julian’s arm. “All set.”

She’d talk to Bass tomorrow.
Maybe. Tonight might be Friday the thirteenth, but she’d push her luck and roll the dice.

****

This year’s affair was at a restaurant inside Central Park with some of the most romantic views in Manhattan. Since tomorrow was Valentine’s Day, the dining room was decked in red velvet bows, gold Cupids, and lots of sparkle.

After checking their coats,
Julian took her hand and led her into the bar area where a circle of formally-dressed people loitered over drinks. Vivi recognized several former coworkers and wondered how they’d react to seeing her in their midst again. She swallowed her fluttering heart, then forced herself to stand tall.

“Bruno!” one of the
group shouted and stepped aside to make room so the newly arrived couple could stand among them. “What are we drinking tonight?”

Julian
cocked his head at Vivi. “Champagne?”

Not her
favorite, and he knew it. He probably wanted to impress the crowd with his air of sophistication. So, okay. She could play along. Flashing an indulgent smile, she feigned pleasure. “Perfect.”

“
Vivi Maxwell, is that you?” A blond woman in a slinky black tube dress grabbed Vivi’s wrist. “Oh, my God, it
is
you. How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Her mind scrambled for the woman’s identity, but came up blank.

Julian bent toward her ear, a filled champagne flute dangling from his hand. “Viv, you remember Juliet Waldman, don’t you?”

Smooth.

Craning her neck as she took the drink from him, she offered a grateful smile. “Of course I do.”

Juliet was the third wife of senior partner, Benjamin Waldman. Or was she number four?
Who cared? What mattered was the Waldman in Waldman, White and Lewis, LLC had the power to make or break Julian’s career. By extension, Juliet Waldman exerted the same power.

With the glass at her lips, she asked the woman, “How are you, Juliet?”

“I’m wonderful.” She used her wineglass to point at first Vivi, then Julian. “Does this mean that you two are…?”

“No,”
Vivi said, but Julian cut her off by snaking an arm around her waist.

“Nothing official,” he added in a silken salesman tone. “We’re taking it slowly this time.
Right, sweetheart?” To communicate his plea that she go along with him, he tucked her up against his chest, his arm settled below her ribcage.

Under normal circumstances, she’d crush his toes with her spiky heel. But
Julian had paid an exorbitant sum for her appearance here tonight. Short of pole-dancing, she’d play along with whatever game he needed to save face at this event. She beamed, first at Julian, then at Juliet. “Absolutely.”

“I saw your commercials, you know.
Adorable. Totally adorable. That was so clever of you—to come up with such a unique business.”

“If I’d have known she’d turn our breakup into such a success,”
Julian remarked, “I would have dumped her years earlier.”

What? Had she heard him correctly? She glared up at him, and he chuckled.

“Just kidding, sweetheart.”

Juliet’s
eyes narrowed to sly. “That’s not what brought you two back together again, was it? You seeking a date for tonight…?”

Despite his bad behavior, the contract they’d both signed had a confidentiality clause
, which meant even if she wanted to, she couldn’t disclose the truth about her appearance here.

“Not the way you mean,”
she told Juliet with a lighthearted laugh. “You see, I make it my business to learn about pending divorces in the city. When Julian’s…” She paused, as if seeking the right word. “…change of marital status crossed my desk, I called to tell him how sorry I was and offer him my support—my
personal
support not the business’s.”

“
You are one classy lady.” Juliet bounced her wineglass at Julian. “You never should have let her go.”

Julian
took a sip from his own flute before replying, “Agreed. I’m lucky she was still unattached when I divorced Tiffany or she probably wouldn’t have called me.”

Was he implying that she’d purposely tracked him down out of some still-single-at-thirty desperation?

His hand skimmed her bare shoulder, and she stifled a shudder.

“Well, you look fabulous,
Vivi,” Juliet enthused, touching her hand again.

But, apparently
Julian wasn’t finished humiliating her. “Of course she does. She’s dropped a good fifteen pounds. Just another fifteen to go, eh, sweetheart?”

Caught in mid-sip,
Vivi coughed.

“
Take it easy, Vivi. I know the drinks are free tonight, but you don’t have to swig the stuff like we’re about to run out. We have plenty, I promise.”

Raucous laughter erupted from
Julian’s circle of friends, and Vivi’s cheeks burned.

Did he plan to spend the night holding her up for ridicule to make
himself look better? That was a vile plan. And not covered under her contract, either—an oversight she planned to rectify first thing Monday morning. Until then, she’d have to play along. But on her own terms. Since pole dancing was out by her own admission, she’d have to devise a different lesson for him.

“Sorry. I guess I’m not used to domestic swill.” Reaching between two men who watched her
with eyes brimming with humor, she set her champagne glass on the bar. “In fact, I should probably switch to tequila.” She arched a brow at the bartender, a handsome sandy-haired man with moss green eyes and a nametag that pegged him as Raul. “I don’t suppose you have Gran Patrón Platinum back there, do you, Raul?”

The bartender nodded
, a secret smile playing about his lips. “We do, but it’s one hundred dollars per ounce.”

She waved off the ridiculous price. A
full bottle of the stuff could be had from the liquor store down the block for about three hundred bucks total, but the more this place charged, the better her revenge. “That’s okay. I’m only doing a shot or two. Besides…” She jerked her head at Julian. “…he’s paying. Right, honey?”

He shifted on his feet, releasing her from his tight embrace.
“Of course.”

Slapping a hand on the bar, she said, “Give me a shot,”
then turned to the dozen or so people clustered around them. “Anyone else?”
Several men looked at each other, and finally, the one who’d originally waved them over, Stewart Campbell, picked up on the opportunity to screw Julian and stepped up to the bar. “Why not?”

“I’m in,” another man said
with a grin.

“Sure. Let’s do it,” said a third.

The bartender wound up setting ten shot glasses on the bar and pouring a thousand dollars’ worth of golden tequila.

Once Raul placed the bottle back on its shelf,
Vivi scooped up her shot and hoisted it in the air. “Ready, boys? Thanks, Julian!”

The men all grabbed their shots and echoed her toast.

“One, two, three.” After counting off, she tossed back the smooth buttery drink, swallowed, and smacked her lips at the aftertaste of citrus. “Aah.” She slammed the glass on the bar and ordered, “Hit me again, Raul. Anyone else?” She scanned the crowd, but they all stepped away, heads bowed.

“No, thanks,” Stewart muttered. “One was good.”

“One is good,” she replied, “but two are a necessity tonight.”

“
Vivi,” Julian murmured with an underlying hint of warning. “That’s enough.”

“One more.”
She nodded at Raul. While he poured her another, she leaned across the bar. “You know, you’re an exceptionally good-looking man.” Opening her clutch, she pulled out a business card. “Call me on Monday. I might have a side job for you.”

He took her card and read it, suspicion turning to surprise. “You’re Cupid?”

“Yup. But it’s my night off.” She pointed to her refilled shot glass. “Thanks, Raul.” Then, lowering her voice, she added, “And keep that bottle handy.”

“You got it.”

Sh
e downed the second tequila with more ease than the first.

“Oh, look,
Vivi,” Julian announced a little too loudly. “There’s someone over there you have to meet.”

Taking her hand, he pulled her away from the bar crowd, but not before she called to Raul, “Don’t take away my glass yet.
Just in case.”

Dozens of eyes followed their stroll across the carpeted floor, and
Vivi bet not one spectator bought Julian’s excuse, especially since he finally stopped in the farthest corner of the restaurant, miles away from another person.

“
Vivi,” Julian whispered with ferocity. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Just having a little fun,”
she replied and nodded toward the bar where Raul waited, watching her. “You want a shot?”

“No, and I’d prefer you don’t have any more, either.”

“Then, may I suggest you stop the backhanded compliments and the nasty commentary? Because I’m putting you on notice. Raul’s now got my back. Every time you say something even slightly derogatory, I’m doing another hundred dollar shot.”

He frowned, his anger charging the air between them.
“I should have hired that Nancy girl you tried to foist on me.”

“I should have turned you down altogether,” she retorted. “So we both miscalculated. Now we can either call off this farce
, and I’ll grab a cab home, or we can try to get through tonight with humor and civility. You’re the client. The choice is yours.”

His gaze dropped to the floor and he sighed. “Let’s do this.”

A flurry of activity and loud voices near the entrance drew her attention, and she peered around Julian to see several tuxedoed men struggling to hold back a less well-dressed party crasher.

“
Vivi!”

Her jaw dropped when she saw him pushing past
the guests and restaurant staff trying to block his path. She gasped and sputtered, “Bass?”

“What’s he doing here?”
Julian asked.

After bypassing his last human obstacle, Bass strode
toward her. Although his breathing was labored as if he’d run twenty city blocks, he spoke loud enough for the wait staff to hear him in the kitchens. “Vivi, I need to talk to you. Now.”

“What’s he doing here?”
Julian repeated.

“I don’t know,
Julian,” she replied. “Why don’t you give me a minute to find out, okay?” She turned to Bass. “Okay. So talk. What’s up? And start with how you knew I was here.”

“Sarah told me where to find you.”

Sarah. She was sooooo fired.

Around them, all other conversations had stopped. The entire population of the room stared, waiting to hear the
reasons for this man’s sudden appearance in their midst.

“Umm…” Bass leaned closer and spoke through unmoving lips. “Can we go somewhere more private?”

Julian yanked her into his arms with so much force, Vivi squeaked. “She’s here with me. Get your own date. Where’s
A-va
?” He sing-songed the name like a kindergartner.

Bass ignored him. “Ava knows. I spoke to her earlier.
Vivi. Give me five minutes. Please.”

She shook her head. Whatever he had to
say, now wasn’t the time. “Go home, Bass. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Taking Julian’s arm, she whispered to him, “I’m sorry about this. Come on. Let’s go find our table for dinner.” She led him toward the draped banquet where embossed white place cards indicated each guest’s seat.

“I’m staying here until you talk to me,” Bass called after her.

“Go home, Bass,” she repeated over her shoulder.

Chapter 10

Dinner was a dull affair, made worse because
Vivi couldn’t shake thoughts of Bass from her mind. What possessed him to come here? Did it have to do with that email he’d sent her yesterday? Dammit, she should’ve opened it when she had the chance. What if it was crucial? Like, what if he was dying?

Cripes,
Vivi, talk about jumping to conclusions
. That email could just as easily be a love letter to Ava sent to her accidentally, and now Bass showed up here to explain why he’d referred to her as a rhinoceros. Not that he had to. Kate had already called her a steamroller. A rhino was the same—with a sharper nose.