Duncan picked Annie up right on time, his bright smile still blinding. His cologne still made her nose itch, and he was still dressed to attend a board meeting, but his first words to her were: “You look ravishing.”
Her crushed ego gave its first feeble signs of life. “You look pretty handsome, too. For a friend’s night out,” she added.
A pleasant drive later, he led her into a boisterous restaurant. “It’s not an all-night rave, but the food’s supposed to be outstanding.”
The red brick walls reminded her of Wes’s condo, as did the minimalist art, but laughter and noise lifted with the jazz tunes, warming up the space. Tables were spread out, lining the long room. “It’s perfect. And I like the music.” The chefs in the open kitchen moved like a choreographed dance troupe. Bartenders dressed in black popped ice cubes and shook drinks. “Classy but cool. Excellent choice.”
Duncan blushed, the modesty surprising but cute. “Only the best for my no-benefit friend.”
He placed his hand on her lower back as they were led to their table. Not quite a friend move, but the attention was nice.
Once they were settled, Duncan clasped his hands on the table and fiddled with his college ring. “How’s the DJ thing going? Is that Falcon guy teaching you like you hoped?”
She appreciated the personal question, but she appreciated their waitress arriving at the table even more. Duncan ordered a martini. She ordered a negroni, while figuring out how to side-step that landmine. Duncan didn’t know his boss was Falcon. He could never know.
Once the waitress left, Annie forced an honest-ish reply. “I worked with Falcon for a bit, but he’s too busy to keep it up.” Too afraid of her lusty advances. “I’m practicing solo now and might take more lessons from this guy Julio, who’s also pretty killer. Still figuring out my style and how to approach it all.”
“But you love it? The music, the club scene, being onstage—that’s your dream?”
She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be as amazing as Wes, but she wouldn’t let their drama thwart her plans. “I don’t know about dream, but the bug bit me and now I’m hooked. I’ll make it work, one way or another. What about you? Is working for Aldrich Pharma your dream job?”
His gaze cut to his ring. He spun it slowly. “Weston took a chance promoting me when he did. There was another candidate more qualified, but when he called me in to give me the news, he said, ‘You have less experience, but there’s more hunger in your eyes. The job’s yours, as long as you promise not to let me down.’”
“That’s a great vote of confidence, but you didn’t answer my question.”
He sipped his water, placed the glass down, and kept his gaze trained on the table. “It’s an amazing job, rewarding and challenging. Everyone’s on their A-game, especially when the shit hits the fan. There’s a real team feeling there.”
There was tension in his voice, though. Discomfort in his body language. And he was still evading. “I know firsthand how obstinate Wes can be. He must be an impossible boss to please.”
She pictured her head on Wes’s lap, how badly she’d wanted to please him, please herself with a filthy lick of her tongue. She sipped her water and crunched an ice cube.
Duncan straightened and slung an arm over the back of his chair, discomfort gone, expensive grin returned. “I can please anyone, anytime. It’s a skill, and Weston’s a great boss. Demanding, but the good ones always are. They push you to be better.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Disappointment? “So why do you look like he’s about to fire you?”
A waiter brushed close to his chair, and Duncan shifted forward. “Like I told you, I’m worried about him. As many times as I’ve tried to get him to talk, he refuses. He sticks to himself, and I feel responsible in some ways. Like I’m not doing my job well enough. If I knew what was eating at him, I could figure out how to delegate better, ease his burden. You’ve still had no luck getting him to open up?”
Wes had opened up to her plenty, not all truths she’d wanted to learn, but his work admissions in her apartment proved Duncan’s concerns were warranted. Annie still worried after Wes, regardless of their issues. Aside from his stressful work and secret-identity drama, fake dating a woman for a business merger must be exhausting. As nice as it was to feel less jealous of Rosanna, none of it changed Wes’s brutal dismissal of Annie, or that Annie could still help him with his video montage, if she shook off a fraction of his painful rejection.
Maybe that was what she needed to do. Tell him about the video she’d created to help them recover from this downswing. Force them to interact again.
An effort that would entail pretending she wasn’t in love with him.
“He confided in you, didn’t he?” Duncan’s intuitiveness caught her off guard. Her turmoil must be tattooed on her forehead.
“Sort of.”
“About the merger? Is he struggling with anything specific?”
Wooing Rosanna for a deal was pretty specific, as was his double life, but no one could know about those arrangements. Duncan smelled her secrets, though. He was literally on the edge of his seat, wanting to help the man who’d taken a chance on him.
“Honestly, Annie, I know the ins and outs of that merger like the back of my hand. I’ve worked with him on the financing, the fine print. The guy’s drowning at work and his father’s taken notice. The last thing Weston needs is more pressure from Victor. Anything Weston said might help.”
Victor S. Aldrich was a walking gavel, judge and jury over his perceived domain.
After Leo’s death, when her first foster parents had gotten pregnant and told her they’d decided to quit fostering, she’d stayed at Weston’s mansion for the night, stressed and sleepless over her future. She’d told Wes it was cool. She’d be fine wherever she was. Deep down, she’d been a roiling mess. Clementine had been at that foster home. The pigtailed, freckled foster girl that had been so quiet and scared. She’d only just started to smile, and she’d asked Annie if they could stay together always. Annie had stupidly said yes.
Unable to sleep, Annie had tiptoed down to the kitchen in Wes’s mansion and walked by the study or library or whatever it was those extra rooms were called, where she’d heard angry voices. Wes and his dad.
“Why can’t she live here? God knows we have the room and money.”
“Her mother died with a needle in her arm. Her father’s some miscreant who disappeared. Her brother got shot in a seedy club. You’ve clearly lost your mind, son.”
“You’re worried what people will think?”
“What people think defines who you are. Have I taught you nothing?”
“Think of it as charity work. The country club crowd loves a hero.”
An angry grunt. “I can’t keep you from visiting her, but you shouldn’t have brought her here tonight, and you will never bring her here again. She’s not welcome in this house.”
Annie had been disgusted with Victor that night, but she’d also been angry with Wes. Living on the streets had taught her to rely on herself, not others. Wes taking over, trying to make decisions for her, had made her feel weak. Incapable of taking care of herself. His father’s disdain had rubbed salt on that wounded pride.
She’d snuck out of the mansion afterward, returned to the foster home she’d soon lose, where she’d helplessly watched Clementine sob quietly into her pillow. Wes never mentioned the conversation with his father or asked why she’d left. Annie’s anger had dissipated over time. She became thankful for that encounter. A reminder that if she was going to make it, she had to rely on herself. She also eventually saw Wes’s kindness for what it had been: concern for her.
Wes had returned to college and became a more permanent fixture in her life: more overbearing, more watchful, more involved. To this day, she was politely reserved with his father. She wasn’t sure how Wes coped with that man’s disapproving wrath.
Duncan waited on her now, patient but not quite, tapping his thumb on the table. She wanted to tell him about Rosanna and Falcon. She was concerned about Wes, just like Wes had always been concerned about her, but they weren’t her secrets to share.
“Speak of the devil,” Duncan said in a tone she couldn’t decipher. His attention was locked on the entrance.
When Annie realized who he was staring at, her stomach bottomed out. Wes swept into the room with Rosanna on his arm, and everyone in the restaurant seemed to hold a collective breath. The socialite was even more exquisite in person. Her bronze skin looked airbrushed, her thick, shiny hair fresh from a shampoo commercial. Wes whispered in her ear as they neared. Rosanna whispered back. Wes laughed heartily.
Annie tried to shrink in her seat.
Duncan stood and blocked the couple’s path. “So you do actually get fresh air. I thought you’d built an underground tunnel between work and home.”
Annie focused on her plate. She adjusted the spaghetti straps of her white lace dress. It was floor length, sewn with layers of intricate lace, the V dipping down her cleavage nearly transparent. The cut hadn’t allowed for a bra. She’d felt sexy and feminine when she’d put it on. Going out with Duncan may have been platonic, but dressing nice had been part of the appeal of their night out. A chance to feel pretty. With Wes here, she felt like she was playing dress-up. A lonely woman on a “friend” date, who couldn’t forget about the man she truly wanted.
“Hello, Anthea.” There was a bite to Wes’s formality, challenge in his clipped tone.
Disapproval that she was out with Duncan?
Wes wouldn’t know there was nothing romantic about their night, and she was glad for it. The guy had some nerve, judging her when he’d discarded her advances with the care of a back-alley surgeon. She had half a mind to cause a scene, upend their table and tell the world Weston Aldrich was emotionally challenged and couldn’t date a real woman, but theatrics would involve talking to him. She didn’t want to look up and see him this close with Rosanna.
Except…screw that.
She wasn’t about to spend her life creeping around on the subway to avoid a confrontation with them. He wasn’t interested in Annie. He’d made himself abundantly clear. She was allowed to dine here with Duncan or any other man.
She ticked up her chin, forced a placid expression. “Weston, pleasure as always. This must be your girlfriend. You two make quite the dashing couple.”
Wes flinched. Rosanna beamed. Annie brushed her long hair over her shoulders, putting her braless dress on display, and smiled at Duncan. “Sit so we can chat more. Let the two lovebirds be.” To Rosanna she said, “It was lovely to finally meet you.”
Kill those suckers with kindness.
Duncan obliged. Weston’s jaw looked tight enough to chip a tooth. The jerk could afford dental care, so he could gnash those ivories all he wanted.
Wes took a step away, cheek still bunching from his gnashing teeth, but Rosanna held her ground. “Anthea? I don’t think Wes has mentioned you.”
Of course he hadn’t. She was nothing but charity work to him. It shouldn’t still sting, but it did.
He cut a caustic look at Annie’s lacy dress, like the day he’d driven her to work and had judged her outfit. “She’s Annie,” he said, curt. “Anthea is her full name.”
Rosanna’s stunning dark eyes widened. “Oh, wow. The Annie. I take that back. Weston’s told me a lot about you.”
Hopefully he’d left out the part where she’d offered her body and soul to the man. “Don’t believe everything he says. If he said he sleeps with a nightlight on because he’s worried about stubbing a toe, total fib. He still has boogie-man nightmares.”
Rosanna laughed and nudged Wes’s arm. “I like her.”
“You two have a good night.” Wes nodded sharply and dragged his date off, not before Rosanna cast another long look at Annie.
Duncan resumed his seat, and Annie tried to will her haywire pulse into submission. Their drinks arrived. They talked. They ordered food. All normal behavior, but Weston’s appearance had dashed her hopes of forgetting him with a fun night out. Careless with her feelings, or not, she was still hopelessly in love with him. She cut and ate her rack of lamb, each piece of chewed meat barely making it down her throat. When she felt too overheated and frustrated to continue making small talk with Duncan, she excused herself to the bathroom, where her cell phone promptly buzzed with a text.
Wes: Are you out with him to get back at me?
He was a real piece of work, assuming her choices revolved around him. But she was out with Duncan to distract herself from thinking about Wes. Pesky details.
Annie: What I do is none of your business.
Wes: Everything you do is my business.
Whoa there, cowboy. Man was getting too big for his designer britches.
Annie: You had your chance at everything and you walked away. You may be fake-dating, but I’m not. I like Duncan and he likes me.
The lie was petty. She should regret it, but she didn’t. Dots bounced as he replied. They appeared and disappeared. Annoyed, she sat on the lounge chair in the bathroom’s alcove and stared at those dots like she was about to be told winning lottery numbers. She should shut her phone down, swipe on some lipstick, and get back to Duncan. Resuscitate their fun banter. Quit letting Wes pull her emotional strings.
Then Wes’s reply came.
Wes: I lied at your apartment. You’re all I think about. Get rid of Duncan as early as possible. I’m coming over to your place tonight.
A toilet flushed. A faucet ran. She clutched her phone so tightly it pinched her skin as she read the message again, the words slowly sinking in.
He lied. He couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Did he actually want to be with her?
A woman walked in and smiled at Annie. Annie’s answering grin probably looked clownish, exaggerated and shocked. Weston wants to be with me. He might be reacting to Duncan, assuming his controlling persona, feeling possessive. But, no. That didn’t jive with all his signals and signs the past months. That kiss. His body’s reaction. That dream. And Rosanna had said he’d spoken about her…
Wes wanted Annie as much as she wanted him.
She stood and pressed her hand to the wall, tried to clear the giddy fuzz from her head.
A woman applying lipstick at the mirror frowned. “You all right?”
Annie touched her breastbone, felt the proclamation of her pounding heart. “I think I’m perfect.”
She’d have to end her night with Duncan early. Assuming he’d been honest about their friend status, he wouldn’t be offended, and she wouldn’t have to explain why. She wouldn’t do it right away, though. Not before Weston Aldrich experienced a fraction of the hurt and dejection he’d caused her the past week. If he understood that pain, he might think twice before four-wheeling over her heart again. She wouldn’t be able to hold out for long. That much was obvious. Even for a few hours, it was her turn to be in charge.
“If you keep ignoring me and staring at Annie, people will think our fake relationship is on the rocks. And quit looking at your phone.”
“That’s rich coming from you, considering our first date.”
Rosanna nudged Weston’s foot under the table. “I didn’t like you then.”
“I didn’t like you much, either.” He was equally as frustrated with her tonight. This texting disaster was all Rosanna’s fault. He watched Annie as she tilted her head and sipped her wine, her neck elongating, all that soft hair falling behind her shoulders. He swallowed a groan.
“You told me to be honest with her,” he said, terse. “I was honest. Why hasn’t she replied to my text?”
“Give me your phone.”
He shoved it at her, agitated. Annie hadn’t glanced at him once since returning from the bathroom. She’d looked at Duncan plenty, though. She’d leaned forward on her elbows, giving him a nice view of that slinky dress, her breasts practically visible through the elaborate lace, while he was stuck here, hands tied, on an infuriating fake date.
He shouldn’t have told Annie how he felt. He shouldn’t have confided the depths of those feelings to Rosanna, either. She’d been relentless since they’d sat down, all up in his face about Annie. She’s beautiful. Like really beautiful. She definitely likes you. She was jealous of me. You need to ask her out.
A more detailed confession later about the scrapbooking disaster and his wretchedness this week, Rosanna had been coaching him, infecting his mind, making him think he could be with Annie and not fuck everything up. Fear of loving and losing had done a number on him, and if the gradual caving of his chest the past week had taught him anything, it was that he already loved Annie. As a friend. A confidant. An integral person in his life. Missing her had flattened him. Seeing her with Duncan had sucked the air from his lungs.
If she and Weston added lovers to their relationship, losing her would be the dirt on his stone-cold grave. And he couldn’t do any of it without telling her the truth about Leo.
Rosanna read the message and made a face. “I said be honest about your feelings. Not boss her around.”
“I wasn’t bossy.”
Rosanna cleared her throat and deepened her voice. “Get rid of Duncan as early as possible. I’m coming over to your place tonight. You may as well have added woman at the end of that, all caveman style.”
“That was direct, which is the same as being honest. Now she’s ignoring me.”
“Are you this dense in your business dealings?”
Weston felt a growl rumble in his gut. He glanced at Annie again. She was smiling and laughing with Duncan, happy with a careless player, probably to piss him off.
“You encouraged this,” he said, the muscles in his neck straining. “So you need to help me fix it.”
Rosanna passed him back the phone and patted his hand. “It’s simple. You hurt her and didn’t apologize.”
“I told her I lied.”
“Does that sound like a groveling apology to you?”
He reread his message, his heart sinking with each word. “Shit.”
“However you feel now, she’s been feeling ten times worse the past week. Not only do you owe her a heartfelt apology, but you owe her some control. That’s what she’s reclaiming right now.”
Wes took a swallow of his wine, had to force it past the regret lodged in his throat. He’d hurt Annie. Badly. He’d hurt himself in the process, but he’d understood the why of it. He’d had the comfort of her truth with him, the feelings she’d admitted. He’d known he could fix things if he’d wanted to. All she’d had was his rejection and silence. “What if you’re wrong and I only hurt her more?”
“Again, are you this dense in your business meetings? If you are, I should counsel my father to kibosh this merger.”
“Dating a woman isn’t a business meeting.” Rosanna raised a dark eyebrow and gestured between them. Point taken. “You know what I mean.”
“I do, but if you backed down from every ‘what-if’ in business, you’d be peddling knock-off purses on the street corner. You’re a risk taker, Weston. That’s why Aldrich Pharma is the behemoth it is. That’s why my father wants to be under your umbrella. Annie isn’t a merger in those terms, but she’s a risk. If your desire for the end result outweighs your fear of failure, it’s a risk worth taking. So that’s your question: how badly do you want her?”
He’d missed Annie hovering at his back in his studio this week, making up ridiculous stories about Felix. He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing the shocked devastation on her face when he’d left her apartment. He couldn’t blink without reliving their kiss. He wanted her badly, regardless of the risk. And Leo had asked him to protect Annie, make sure she was happy. Maybe being with her was the answer to everything. Together, she’d always be safe. He’d be the best version of himself.
If she could forgive him for her brother’s death.
He sure as shit wanted to be the one sitting across from her now, making her laugh, holding her hand, whispering how gorgeous she looked in that dress.
He ran his thumb over his phone’s screen, thought of the best way to grovel. He settled on following Rosanna’s advice again.
Weston: I’m sorry. I won’t come over. It’s up to you how this moves forward. I’ll be up at home if you want to stop by later.
He hit Send and watched Annie. She glanced at her purse but continued talking to Duncan. She kept looking at her purse intermittently, never reaching inside. Sweat gathered at the back of Weston’s shirt, and he felt like punching something. Himself, mainly. When she finally pulled out her phone and read his message, the smallest smile lifted her lips.
His forehead nearly hit the table in relief.
“I told you I give the best advice,” Rosanna said.
He massaged his chest and faced her, still surprised by their growing friendship. “For a woman who hates relationships, your female intel isn’t half bad.”
“For a stuck-up suit, you’re a real softy.”
He wasn’t sure about that. He wasn’t sure he was ready to open himself up to Annie, but he knew he’d pull an all-nighter on his couch, watching his front door for a sign that the most important person in his life was willing to trust him again.