RICHARD (A BAD BOY ROMANCE) (60 page)

Chapter 11

I couldn’t believe how much of a
prick he was.

It was one thing to be a smarmy
asshole, but to suggest that I would simply sit by, content to be his
mistress,
of all things! Even the
thought of it had my blood boiling in my veins. I wanted to say that I hated
him, wanted to curse his name with every breath I took as I burnt any picture I
could find after I’d crossed out his face.

“How dare he?” I said to my mirror
as I readied myself for the day ahead. I was so angry—so enraged that I could
hardly think of anything else besides the way I wished I could make him pay for
treating me like I could be relegated to the position of his “mistress” for the
convenience of his need for some title.

But the more I wanted to hate him,
the more I so wanted to feel his touch once again. And I was more than a little
conflicted on the matter of how to handle my stepbrother, especially where our
business arrangement was concerned.

I had half a mind to call the whole
thing off, leaving him to find a wife by his own means and leave his bad habit
of playing my heart like a harpsichord far away from me and the life I’d built
for myself. How could he be so unconcerned with how all of this affected me? I
wasn’t the natural born daughter of a lord, I had been born common and fought
my way to the place that I was at. Just one scandal was all it would take to
bring my entire life crumbling to its knees.

After I was dressed I made my way
down to the car waiting for me just outside, trying to keep my expression
neutral as I took my seat and closed the door behind me.

“Good morning, Miss,” Franklin said,
smiling at me from the rear view mirror. “I trust you slept well?”

“Well enough, I suppose,” I sighed,
rubbing the bridge of my nose. I was not by any means a morning person, and
after the utter foolishness involving Tristan, I was not feeling up to dealing
with any of my clients today.

“Something troubling you?” Franklin
asked, his brow creasing with concern as he pulled into the flow of traffic.

“Romantic entanglements,” I said,
trying to keep things as vague as I could for his own benefit and mine.
Franklin didn’t need to be privy to my sordid dealings, much less these flights
of quasi-incestuous desire I had been prone to since Tristan spirited himself
back into my life.

“Something I know you’re more than
accomplished at handling, Miss Gwendolyn,” he said.

“It’s much different when you’re
dealing with your own problems,” I said, leaning back in the chair.

“I imagine that you’re right, of
course,” Franklin conceded dutifully.

I could usually be very open with
Franklin, but the idea of involving him even the slightest bit in this
scandalous behavior—even as a confidante—was not something I was willing to do.

I wasn’t at all surprised when I
felt my phone vibrating in my pocket, though when I looked to check the number
I was shocked to find that it was Tristan and not Tina who was calling me.

“Hello?” I said as I put the phone
to my ear.

“Gwen,” Tristan said, almost
sounding relieved to hear my voice. The thought made my heart flutter like a
bird. “I need to apologize for this morning.”

“As well you should,” I said,
scowling. “I’ve half a mind to hang up right now and let you choke on your damn
apology.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, heaving a
sigh. “I was a complete ass and I didn’t mean to upset you. I let my mouth get
ahead of my brain and ended up chewing on my foot.”

“That’s an interesting way of saying
you’re a complete twit,” I muttered, sighing as I relaxed against the back seat
of my car. I glanced over toward the divider between Franklin and I, careful
not to let too much on as to who I might have been talking to. As though he’d
read my thoughts, I watched the privacy shield slide up between us, blocking
him from view behind its reflective surface. “Is that all?”

“Of course not,” he said
defensively. “I don’t want you to be upset with me over something as stupid as
a bad joke.”

“You know that that wasn’t a joke to
me, Tristan,” I said. “I’d told you those things in all confidence and for you
to just say something like that? Can you even imagine how that made me feel?”

“You’re right,” he said. “I brought
up the past when I know how much that part of your life hurts you. I was an
insensitive prick, and you deserved better from me.”

“You’re damn right I do,” I said, an
angry brand of confidence rising up inside of me. “I deserve
much
better treatment than that.
Especially from you, Tristan Wolfe.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, each
time sounding better than the last. “I’ll say it as many times as it takes for
you to forgive me. Right now that’s all I want.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Despite
my better
judgement
I could only hope that by trying
to get back into my good graces he had meant what he said about his title and
inheritance not mattering, and that he wanted to be with me. More thoughts of
the night before danced through my head as I leaned my head farther back
against the headrest.

“And what if I don’t forgive you,
what then?” I asked, my tone leaning toward almost being flirtatious. I wanted
to see how he’d react to the thought of being teased and made to work for my
forgiveness.”

“I’ll do anything you ask,” he said
determinedly, “we can’t be at odds when we both have a lot of work ahead of
us.”

I didn’t understand. What kind of work
could he be talking
about.
Surely, making our
relationship work—especially if it was going to be a secret—would take a great
deal of effort, but I got the feeling that he was distinctly referring to
something else entirely.

“Sorry, I don’t think I understand
what you mean,” I said, my voice faltering just slightly. Hadn’t we already
passed through the hardest part? If the two of us were going to have a go of
it
I didn’t see what “work” there he had in mind. The way
he’d said it made me nervous, a sense of dread building in my gut.

“We still need to find me a wife,
don’t we?” he asked, and all at once I could feel myself falling to pieces. How
could he still be intent on finding a wife? If he didn’t care about the title,
then what was the point of going through with this stupid plan of his? “I
mean,
you were completely right this morning—everything you
said was absolutely true. I’m have no follow-through or commitment. I’ve been
just terrible, but I’m determined to change that. I don’t want to be the one who
ruins everything for the people around me.”

I swallowed hard, a lump forming in
my throat as I began to understand what he was saying. He was going to try to
forget everything we’d done and just move on, as though somehow that would just
make it all better. He expected to throw the way he felt for me out and leave
me standing there, still pining for him. I wanted to scream. I wanted to
crumple in on myself and just cry until I had nothing else left.

“We need to be adults about this…”
he continued on, taking my silence as a cue to carry on. “I was being childish
by putting you into this situation, and I’m sorry. I should never have toyed
with your emotions the way that I did. We need to do the responsible thing and
go on with this as planned. It’s the only way that both of us will get what we
want out of this little arrangement of ours
. ”

“I… yes, of course you’re right,” I
stammered, doing what I could to regain my composure. Out of the corner of my
eye, I caught sight of myself in the reflective surface of the privacy screen,
my mascara already beginning to run as the first hot streams of my tears made
their way down my cheeks. “Carry on, and all that, I supposed.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

I had sometimes wondered what the
sound of my heart breaking would be like, and it turned out to sound a lot like
my stifled sobbing.

Chapter 12

I invited Gwendolyn out for a quiet
dinner the next day in the hopes of discussing a few more potential candidates.
I made sure to find a place that the two of us would have at least some privacy
while we made plans to get me tied off to a somewhat respectable woman that
would have me for so long as it took to tie the knot between us.

I arrived a few minutes before Gwen
did, more than enough time to order a bottle of wine for the two of us to
share. I’d gotten a good enough look at her kitchen to know the kind of wine
she liked and ordered the perfect bottle to suit her tastes. I knew that trying
to woo my sister was pointless at this point, that bridge had been properly
burned the moment she ejected me from her bed, but despite all that I wanted to
impress her, to surprise her with how much I cared for her.

When Gwen arrived she was wearing a
gorgeous black dress that fit her body like a glove. Her hair was done up
beautifully, pulled back into a tight bun and held in place by a pair of ornate
pins. Around her neck glimmered a gorgeous choker I’d recognized from when we
were younger.

The longer I watched her the more I found
myself unable to stop staring as she sat down. She was utterly stunning, and
the way she moved was like out of a dream. Our eyes met as she took her seat
and I watched her cheeks fill with color, her eyes turning from mine in
embarrassment. I could tell that she was trying to do her best to hide the way
she felt, though doing a better job of it than I had been. I wasn’t sure what
it was, but the moment she walked into a room, I found myself utterly
captivated.

“What do you keep staring at?” she
asked, frowning as she laid a folder down next to her plate—what I could only
assume were the packets of information on my next perspective match. I was both
curious at what she’d brought me and at the same time upset that she was being
so damn helpful about going through with all of this.

“Nothing. You just look very nice,”
I said, trying not to make an awkward situation any worse. I had to remind
myself that I had made the decision to be an adult and go through with this
scheme of mine, even though I’d like to feel myself buried in Gwen in the next
five minutes, I knew that if I ever wanted to inherit my father’s title than I
would have to keep my hands to myself where my stepsister was concerned from
now on. If anyone had found out about what the two of us had done already there
would be hell to pay.

“Thank you,” she said, though the
tone to her voice was colder than I remembered. Was she upset with me? “Are you
ready to get down to business?”

“What? No wine first?” I asked,
beginning to pour myself a glass from the rather expensive bottle I had
ordered. “I asked for one of your favorites.”

“How in the world would you know
that?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

“It’s the one that’s littered around
your kitchen,
Gwennie
,” I said, chuckling as I took a
long drink. “I’m not a mind reader.”

“None for me,” she said, her eyes
narrowed as she pulled out the pictures of a graceful looking young woman.
Aside from a few minor details I could have mistaken the woman for Gwen if I
didn’t know any better. “This is Denise
Halbrook
.
She’s the daughter of a Member of Parliament and part of the aristocracy. I
think that she might just be the perfect match.”

“Pretty enough,” I said, almost
upset that Gwen was so focused on doing her job and eager to marry me off. The
more I listened to her talk about this woman the more I wanted Gwen instead. I
knew I shouldn’t—that I couldn’t—but watching her from across the table was
almost its own brand of torture. “You really think that she’s right for me?”

“From the information that I have
and what you want to achieve? Yes, absolutely,” Gwen said, laying out a few
papers across the table as the waiter stood by waiting to take our order.
“She’s got all the clout that you’d need to pacify your father’s inspection.
She’s got it all—education, social standing, she even does charity work and
keeps a rather low media profile. I have to say I’m impressed.”

I mulled the thought over as I gave
the young man our order and sent him on his way, glancing down at the pictures
that were strewn across the table. Sure, she was pretty, in that old money
fashion, but there was something about her that didn’t seem totally on the
nose. Something in her eye felt so familiar, but I couldn’t’ quite put a name
to it.

“She sounds like a bit of a bore,” I
sighed, running my fingers through my hair in frustration. I wanted someone
with a little bit of excitement, someone that I could possibly use to take my
mind off of the woman I
couldn’t
have. Some aristocratic daughter of a nobleman would never be able to keep my
attention long enough to stop me from finding someone more interesting to play
with—or, even more disastrous, wandering back into Gwendolyn’s bed.

“Bore or not, you’re going to start
running out of options sooner or later, Tristan,” she said. “There are only so
many failed dates you can have while you’re dating within your station. The
upper class are a small group, and when you botch a few dates within that
circle people tend to take notice. You already have a reputation as it is that
we have to break through. Be lucky anyone is interested in you after those
escapades when you were younger.”

“Youthful indiscretions,” I said,
waving the thought away as though it were nothing.

“Yes, I remember how little those
things actually meant to you,” she shot at me quickly, her eyes narrowed in a
blood-chilling glare. Admittedly, I deserved that. My younger self had been
what I affectionately called a royal pick, and it was only fair that the person
I’d hurt the most back in those days take her revenge. “While most of the rest
of the world likes for certain things to hold a special meaning.”

It was at that moment that I caught
the flash of a camera in the corner of my eye and a crowd of dirty looking men
peeking in through the restaurant window, a mix of cameras and cellphones all
fighting for a better angle to snap a picture at the two of us.

“Damn,” I whispered, pushing my
chair back as I made ready to get out of there as quickly as possible. “Get up,
we’re leaving.”

“What is it?’ she asked, turning to
follow my gaze. She wasn’t used to the media following her around, so I knew it
would be up to me to make sure she didn’t get cornered.

“Buzzards,” I said with no shortage
of venom in my voice. I took her hand and lead her farther out of sight from
the large front windows of the restaurant, slowly making our way to the
kitchens. “Let’s go out the back, I’ve already covered the check.”

With a well-placed twenty-pound
note, Gwen and I were smuggled out through the kitchen and out the back of the
restaurant. I quickly phoned for a cab to get us both the hell out of there.
Gwen’s driver Franklin wouldn’t be expecting us for another hour at most and we
needed a quick escape. In a pinch the cab would do, if the paparazzi didn’t
find us back here first.

“The cab should be here any moment,”
I said the two of us huddled close in the alley behind the restaurant. I could
feel her body so warm next to mine, looking down into her face and into those
sparkling eyes. Even in the dimming light of a back ally, Gwendolyn shone like
a star in the heavens, one that I coveted more than anything else in the entire
world. She was a star that I wanted to hide from the world so that only I would
be able to see her shine.

“Seems like no matter who I’m with,
my dinner plans never seem to work out,” I chuckled, raising an eyebrow at her.

I managed to draw a smile from her
as she shook her head, leaning herself back against the red brick of the
restaurant’s exterior. I couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful she was.

I wasn’t sure how it happened, but
before I knew it I was pressed against her body, pushing her back against the
wall of the restaurant as I tilted her head up to receive a slow, passionate
kiss. For a moment I felt her body relax underneath my touch, that soft gasp
escaping her lips before I felt her push me away.

“What are you doing?” she hissed,
her eyes wide with shock. Despite her protest I could see the reddening in her
cheeks, the rising and falling of her soft breasts inside of her blouse. I knew
she’d wanted more, if only I could make her understand how much I needed her,
despite what I’d said. I couldn’t stop myself.

“I need you, Gwen,” I said, sounding
as though the breath had been stolen from my lungs. My stepsister stared at me
as she shook her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“No, Tristan,” she hissed, looking
over her shoulder for any camera men who had found their way to our hiding
spot. “We can’t do this anymore! This is no time to play out your childhood fantasy.
You hired me to find you a wife, and that’s what we agreed to. That means
you’re a client and I
cannot
be
caught sleeping with a client. Let alone my own
stepbrother
!”

The cab pulled up into the alleyway,
just enough to keep his back end from staying out in the street. Smoke billowed
from the exhaust pipe, giving the alley a more polluted atmosphere. Gwen held
up her hands in defeat as she took a step away from me until she reached the
cab door and opened it.

“There’s no room in this cab for you,
Tristan,” she said. “You’ll have to call another.”

“Gwen, wait!” I called, but she just
shook her head.

“I can’t keep doing this with you,
Tristan,” she said. “I just can’t do it.”

I watched her step into the cab, her
gaze cast off into the street as the taxi pulled out into the back street, then
sped off into the night. I stood there in that ally trying to process
everything that had happened. It felt like no matter what, my life would always
lead me back to Gwendolyn. It wasn’t like me to believe in the vague idea of
the supernatural, I would have sworn that the two of us were fated to be
together—whether we liked it or not… if only I could make
her
understand.