Deception: The Deception Trilogy, Book 1 Page 8

  Lying meant thinking about the things my sister had to do as an escort. I knew sex didn’t make Mel feel vulnerable. She once told me sex made her feel powerful. But the only time it had ever made me feel powerful was with Eric. When I’d tried to sleep with someone new, I’d felt nervous, insecure, and a little sick about it. I’d come to the conclusion that I just wasn’t made for casual sex. I was so my sister’s opposite and yet Griff thought I’d shared my body with strange men for money. Suddenly I no longer felt very hungry.

  “You chose survival over honor.”

  I gave a huff of cynical laughter. “Honor? I’ve only met one honorable person in my life. Believe me he was an anomaly. Honor doesn’t really exist anymore.”

  “Who was he?”

  Thinking of Eric, who I was to him, and who I was now, made me want to burst into tears. He’d be shocked. He would understand why I was doing it—for Mel— but he’d never approve.

  “It’s been a long day.” I pushed back from the table and stood up.

  “I didn’t say you could leave.” He glared up at me. “This is all part of the job, Melanie. Getting to know each other. If you don’t want to talk about something you don’t have to. But you’ll sit your luscious arse back down and finish dinner.”

  My whole body locked with affront at the order. “I’m not hungry,” I bit out.

  “You were hungry five minutes ago. Sit.”

  I did. I also snapped, “You’re an imperious ass.”

  “Yes,” he said taking a bite of steak with a look in his eyes that made me breathless. It was a look that suggested he’d much rather take a bite out of my ‘luscious arse’.

  However, I had to be imagining it.

  Surely.

  “Quite the show of temper,” Griff murmured. “I wouldn’t do it again.”

  “I already told you—”

  “Yes, you’re going to be who you really are with me in private. Fine. Just keep that temper in check. It makes me want to check it for you… and the last thing you and I should do is fuck. I don’t pay for pussy.”

  His words hit me with such a bolt of lust he might as well have slipped his hand between my legs. The crude way he said it, however, also infuriated me.

  There was no stopping the flush of warring desire and anger that warmed my cheeks.

  “Melanie,” Griff murmured.

  I shot him a filthy look, “What?”

  His eyes narrowed in warning, “Watch it.”

  “I’ll have to ask you to do the same thing. I’d prefer you not speak so crudely to me.”

  His lips twitched at my primness. “I’ll speak to you however the fuck I want.”

  “Then I’ll speak to you however the fuck I want.”

  Griff’s hand tightened around his fork and his eyes dipped to my mouth.

  The tension between us was unbearable.

  My chest began to rise and fall in shallow inhales and exhales that drew his gaze from my mouth to there. My nipples tightened and I thanked God he couldn’t see it through my dress. Apparently, the only exception to my no-casual-sex rule was the one man I couldn’t have!

  Footsteps echoed out in the hall and the sudden appearance of Xavier made me melt against my chair in relief.

  Griff gave me one last smoldering look of warning and turned to the butler. “What is it?” he asked impatiently.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Mandeville, but Mr. Svenson has asked to see you regarding an issue with a club member. He says it’s urgent.”

  Griff pushed his chair back and stood up. I tried not to glare at him in resentment as he glowered back at me and knew I failed. Why did he have to bother me so physically?

  “You’ll wait here for me. I’ll try to be quick.”

  “That’s okay. I’m finished.”

  “We still have dessert,” Griff argued.

  “Yes, Miss Jennings, and Chef Depardieu’s white chocolate sphere is not to be missed,” Xavier said.

  “You’ll wait,” Griff reiterated.

  I pinched my lips together but didn’t argue. He was paying me to wait, after all.

  However, twenty minutes later Xavier appeared with the white chocolate sphere and the message that Griff was indefinitely delayed for the evening.

  I didn’t see him again that night and I wasn’t sorry for it.

  My attraction to him and the way he could make me lose my temper was a giant goddamn problem.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It only took a few days to realize that pretending to be a socialite was going to drive me mad with boredom. Real socialites were social. They had friends, acquaintances, charity and community interests—lots of stuff to keep them occupied twenty-four-seven. I was pretending. So I had nothing.

  There was only so much walking and swimming I could do.

  So I took the credit card Griff had given me and I bought a laptop. For years I’d longed to write but I’d never had the time or the real motivation. I’d written things here and there in notebooks but no concept really dug its fingers in and hooked my imagination.

  Well now I had a story.

  The unbelievable story of a twin who took her sister’s place in the most ludicrous business deal ever.

  The words just started flying out of my fingers and into the keys as soon as I cracked that laptop open. As the weeks passed I spent most days in my bedroom writing. When I wasn’t writing I could be found at the spa, usually utilizing the pool, while my nights were a routine of dinners and events with Griff. I’d met a number of women through his business colleagues but had yet to take them up on their offer of coffee and lunch dates. I knew it frustrated Griff but I was still feeling very insecure about the lies we were telling and not quite ready to take on the social scene alone. I needed more time. Griff didn’t push me. If he was any other man I’d say he was afraid to incite my temper and thus his reaction to my temper.

  It was glaringly obvious to anyone who spent any time in Griff’s company that he liked control and I think he was itching to master me. Unfortunately for him, my quiet reserve masked a steely stubbornness.

  No man was, or would ever be, my master. I believed the only way for two people to truly exist in harmony together was in equality. Eric and I had been equals.

  Three weeks flew by and in that time, although Griff and I had grown somewhat comfortable with each other, we still didn’t really know one another very well. There was also the problem of the increasing sexual tension between us.

  At first I’d assumed it was all coming from me—that for the first time in my life I was sexually attracted to a man I wasn’t even sure I liked. But after that night at the dinner table, I realized that Griff was attracted to me, too, and equally unhappy about it.

  I stared blankly at my computer screen as I remembered the previous night at dinner. We decided to dine at home since Griff was especially busy with work and we had an event the following evening. As always the food was delicious but Griff had been even more monosyllabic than usual.

  “You’re quiet,” I said.

  “Oh. Am I usually a raring conversationalist?”

  I rolled my eyes at his sarcasm. “You’re quieter than normal.”

  Griff ran a hand through his hair and slumped back in the dining chair. “Long bloody day.”

  “You work all the time. You need to find time to relax.”

  He shot me a quelling look. “Unfortunately, my method of relaxation is unavailable to me at present.”

  Confused, I tilted my head. “Oh?”

  “You know for an apparently world-weary escort you are decidedly clueless.” He sighed at my continued confusion. “I fuck to relax, Melanie. I fuck. And I can’t fuck anyone in case someone finds out we’re not really a couple and blows this whole arrangement.”

  The reminder that I, too, was sexually frustrated—something I’d been able to deal with before meeting him—infuriated me. “I told you not to speak to me like that.”

  His eyes flared with anger. “Are you kidding?
You fuck for a living.”

  “I’m not an escort here. I’m your soon-to-be fiancé. You should probably treat me as such and not speak to me like that.” My fingers were curled so tight around my cutlery it was a wonder it didn’t bend.

  Griff leaned toward me. “If you were my fiancé you’d be treated to my dirty fucking mouth every hour so I’m sorry if you thought playing my girlfriend meant getting to pretend you’re actually a lady.”

  Hurt suffused me and when someone hurt me I turned it to fury. “Just say it,” I hissed. “You’ve been desperate to say it since the moment we met.”

  Suddenly he looked exhausted. “Say what?”

  “The word ‘whore’. What you really wanted to say was ‘I’m sorry you thought playing my girlfriend meant getting to pretend you’re actually a lady instead of a whore’.”

  He narrowed his eyes on me. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You think you’re so above it but it bothers you.”

  His tan face flushed with anger. “I have no problem with anyone doing whatever it takes to survive. I’ve told you that. But I am not a man who has ever paid to fuck and I never will be.”

  “Then why do you insist on trying to remind me of what I am when we’re supposed to be fooling everyone into believing I am a lady.” The hurt leaked out of my voice before I could stop it, and I clamped my mouth shut and stiffened in my chair.

  Too late, I knew Griffin had caught it. He sighed heavily and pushed his plate away as he leaned back in his seat. His dark eyes glittered in the lowlight as he stared at me. “I shouldn’t have said that. Especially when it’s not true. A lady isn’t to the manor born, Melanie. A lady is a lady because of the way she treats people. You are a lady. Every inch of one. My staff, especially Xavier, are all bloody enamored with you.” He sounded exasperated by the notion. “You treat everyone as your equal and it does not go unappreciated by the people around you.”

  I squirmed, uncomfortable with the idea of being liked by these people when they had no idea I was lying to them. “They think I’m from money so they think there’s something special in me treating them like equals. I’m just like them. Why would I treat them any differently?”

  “A while ago one of my club members got steaming drunk and aggressive. We’d find out later that he’d just lost a fortune in an investment. While I was trying to restrain him, he broke my nose.”

  I waited patiently for him to continue, wondering what the story had to do with anything.

  “I went to the hospital and they reset it. There was a very beautiful nurse there and a flirtation with her turned into a six-week affair. She sneakily started installing herself into the penthouse and I was too busy to notice, but I did start to sense Xavier’s increasing aggravation. It turned out she was wandering around the club like she owned the place, treating my staff like menial servants. Treating them like shit. She grew up with nothing, worked hard to make a career in nursing, and she was ambitious. She thought I was her chance to have money, real money. And as soon as she thought it was within her grasp she treated my staff like garbage, like they were beneath her. Suffice it to say she was shown the door pretty fast after that.

  “It doesn’t matter if you’re born with a silver spoon in your mouth, we’re all born the same. Yes, when you employ someone it’s prudent to maintain a certain distance, because when the exchange of money is involved things can get complicated if you cross that line. I’m their boss,” he gestured toward the door, “However, that doesn’t make me any better or worse than them. That’s not for my judgment.”

  It was the most he’d ever said at dinner together.

  And I liked every bit of it.

  It also made me realize that perhaps the caustic remarks he made toward me were to deliberately keep distance between us because he was paying me like he would any other employee.

  In that moment I felt I understood him a little better.

  And he thought I was a lady. If he could get over himself, start being a little warmer toward me, we might actually become friends of a sort.

  Before I could say anything, Griff pushed his chair back from the table. “I have work to get back to. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Okay, I thought, staring at the laptop screen, maybe I didn’t not like him. His defenses made him prickly —sometimes even insulting—but I was starting to see beyond them.

  On top of my confused feelings towards a man I shouldn’t have any feelings toward I was still worried about my sister. Octavius told me she pleaded guilty at her arraignment because her attorney advised her to in order to get less prison time. I’d been told, as predicted, she got eighteen months in a women’s penitentiary in upstate New York. I wanted to visit my sister. Last time she was in prison I visited every week to make sure she was alive and doing okay. After a phone call with Octavius, however, I’d been told that it wasn’t possible just yet. He said Griff would have too many questions about why I needed to travel to upstate New York.

  And he was right. I had a suspicion Xavier gave Griff an account of my daily comings and goings. So a visit would have to wait. At least Mel called me every week. She sounded different. Tense. She was usually always so blasé about everything but then again she hadn’t gotten her twin sister involved in any of her crazy shit before. She didn’t say it but I think she was worried about me too.

  I was a little worried about me.

  A knock sounded at the door, and I glanced at the clock. Griff and I had been invited to the Wellington’s party. Amanda Wellington was a huge real estate mogul in New England and she and her husband, Donald (an international lawyer), hosted a party every year at their large home in Weston to celebrate the beginning of the summer season. Donald Wellington was from old blood—The Wellingtons came over on the Mayflower—and was a highly-esteemed member of Boston society. He and his wife were also club members.

  I’d been ready for over an hour and getting kind of hungry waiting on Xavier arriving to tell me it was time to go.

  My bedroom door suddenly opened and I immediately tensed. Xavier and Wells always waited for me to give permission to enter.

  Pete Svenson stepped into my room wearing a tux. He shut the bedroom door behind him.

  I shut my laptop and stood up, feeling my pulse start to race. For some reason Pete unsettled me so I attempted to avoid him as much as possible. It was the way he looked at me. There was a gleam of resentment in his eyes but I couldn’t work out why that would be.

  His gaze moved around my bedroom, stopping briefly on my bed, before coming to me. He dragged his eyes down my body and back up again.

  “Well don’t you look beautiful.”

  “What are you doing here?” I hoped I sounded casual. The last thing I wanted was for him to realize he bothered me.

  “Griff’s business meeting is running over.”

  “Why couldn’t Xavier tell me that?”

  “Because Griff called me. I’m going to escort you to the party. Griff will meet us there.”

  The thought of going anywhere with Pete discomfited me. I knew from watching his interaction with the club members that he was well liked at The Patrician. He was actually charming and debonair in a way Griff was too brooding to ever be. Griff respected him and relied on him. But that dark look I’d see whenever he turned toward me… there was something off about him I couldn’t quite put my finger on and wondered how no one else could see it.

  “Griff wants you to escort me?”

  “Call him if you like.”

  I shook my head. “It’s fine. Let me just grab my clutch.”

  Pete didn’t touch me at all as we strode to the elevator and got in. Although he stood close by my side he didn’t place his hand on my lower back to guide me out onto the foyer. Noise from the Hazard room above filtered down toward us but I’d gotten so used to the sounds of the club it barely registered. Xavier appeared, as always like magic, and opened the door for us.

  “Miss Jennings, you look wonderful,” he said with genuine
effusiveness that made me blush.

  “Thank you, Xavier.”

  “I’ll be back as soon as Mr. Mandeville makes his appearance at the Wellingtons. You’ll call me if there are any issues,” Pete said.

  “Of course, Mr. Svenson.”

  A town car waited out on the street for us. I said goodnight to the security guys, Eddie and Jones, and let Pete take my elbow as I traversed the front steps in my four inch Marchesa sandals. They were leather and suede with beautiful floral laser cut-out detail. I’d styled them with the most expensive item in my closet: a Marchesa black pencil dress. It had a classic boat neck, short cap sleeves, and the hem came to just above my knees. It had a shimmering, delicately beaded front panel that accentuated its form-fitting silhouette. Sheer panels at the neck and shoulders showed just a hint of skin.

  The dress was the classiest thing I’d ever put on my body. Not a materialistic person, I hadn’t grown attached to any of the designer clothes in my closet but I had to admit that I loved that dress. That night I’d pinned my hair up instead of leaving it down. Well, I’d gone to a stylist Anna had recommended and she had pinned my hair up. She had pin-tucked my curls into an elegant up-do, leaving a sexy short layer to sweep across my forehead and curl around my chin.

  I felt the prettiest I’d ever felt and had little butterflies of anticipation wondering if Griff would think I looked pretty too. Yes, I knew I shouldn’t have those thoughts, but I couldn’t quite stifle them.

  The driver held the door open for us and I smiled and thanked him before sliding inside.

  To my dismay Pete left no space between us when he got in.

  I deliberately moved, pressing myself right up against the door and felt him looking at me. Thankfully, he seemed to get the message and stayed where he was.