Текст книги "Lies Unspoken "

Автор книги: Lisa DeJong

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“HOW DID YOU GET SO LUCKY?” Reece asks as she polishes off the last of her second Cosmo. We decided to grab an early dinner and drinks before the movie, and the one and only topic of conversation has been my upcoming trip with Pierce. I miss being the one with the boring life.

“I wouldn’t call it luck. I’m scared out of my freaking mind. This isn’t a small project . . . I haven’t even had a small project yet. On top of that, I have to spend two days alone with Pierce.”

Reece rolls her eyes. “Have to? Really, Lila? The man is a god.”

“He’s just intense. And after what happened last night—”

“Wait,” Reece says, holding her hand up. “What happened last night?”

Shit. I didn’t necessarily want to bring this up. “He came by the apartment, and we had dinner.”

“No way!” Reece exclaims, eyes widening.

“He confuses me . . . I mean, the way he makes me feel confuses me,” I admit.

I think back to the night of the benefit, and the time I’ve spent with him in the office. He’s not a bad guy. In fact, if I let myself, I could fall for him.

“What are you going to do in New York?” Dana asks, interrupting Reece’s interrogation.

I shrug, not quite sure myself. “We’re meeting with a potential client. A hotel project I think.”

Dana lifts a brow. “And the meeting is going to take two days?”

“Okay, Reece One and Reece Two. I’m going to New York for two days with Pierce Stanley for business. There’s nothing romantic about it.”

“New York is romantic,” Reece says dreamily. “Have you ever been?”

I shake my head. “No, but even if it were Paris, nothing would happen.” If I don’t watch it, I’m going to be the only one who needs convincing.

“You’re a tough cookie,” Reece says, shaking her head. “No wonder you have man problems.”

“You seem to enjoy my man problems,” I chide. She opens her mouth, but when I narrow my eyes on her, she closes it.

“She doesn’t need Pierce anyway. She has Blake,” Dana pipes in.

I groan, burying my face in my hands. My life is such a crazy ride; I can’t keep up with it, let alone keep my friends up to date. “That’s over.”

Dana looks at me with question in her eyes. “What? How can it be over? I thought you guys were just fucking.” Leave it to her to magnify the crudeness.

“It wasn’t working out. Besides, the second he got angry with me he took it as a hall pass to go screw someone else he met in a bar. I’m not going to play those games with a guy who refuses to commit. There are other guys I can get benefits from without the drama.”

“Oh my,” Dana says, shaking her head.

“What?”

“I warned you, and you did it anyway . . . you fell for him.”

I open my mouth to correct her, but I can’t. She’s right . . . the only reason Blake being with another woman bothers me is because in my mind, he’s mine. Or he was mine.

“Can someone explain to me what Blake has that Pierce doesn’t?” Reece asks. “I don’t see it.”

That one I have to think about. Blake has this whole other side that surfaces every now and then—one I can’t seem to let go of. He’s the definition of a damaged man, and I think a part of me wanted to fix him . . . to find the man he is underneath.

“Pierce is successful, and when we’re together, I know exactly what I’m getting. I guess I liked the mystery with Blake. Every time we were together was different. New. Exciting. It just didn’t end the way I envisioned it.”

Reece sits with her head resting in her hand, staring at me dreamily. “You make fucking sound so romantic.”

Dana looks at her like she’s someone she doesn’t even know. “You just said fucking. We just might turn you into a bad girl yet. And you,” she says, turning her attention back to me, “the reason your benefits-only relationship didn’t work was because you wanted more than benefits.”

I roll my eyes, but deep down inside, I know she’s right. I wasn’t made for that type of arrangement and failed miserably. “Is it time to go to the movie yet?”

“Who needs a movie when we have you?” Reece asks.

“I do. You two can’t talk there.”

With only ten minutes before Pierce arrives, I push down on the lid of my small suitcase in order to zip it shut. It’s one night, but without knowing everything he has planned, I over-packed a bit—three pairs of shoes, two changes of business attire, and a dress just in case we have dinner somewhere nice.

I roll it to the door and put on my shoes and coat. I opted for a sleek black pantsuit with a low-cut white blouse underneath. Not too sexy, but risqué enough to show I have some edge and taste. I pair it with a low black strappy heel, hoping my feet won’t fall off by the end of the day.

In the rush of everything, I almost don’t hear my phone ringing from inside my purse.

“Hello,” I answer without checking to see who it is first.

“It’s so good to hear your voice.” Mom. I smile to myself, imaging her sitting at the table on the other end, sipping from her large black coffee mug.

“Sorry I haven’t called in a few days. Things got a little hectic at my new job.” I don’t add anything about my personal life because that’s the last thing I want her to know about. She’d probably try to convince me to come home to a ‘nice country boy’ as she calls them. I tried her idea of nice, and it didn’t work out so well for me.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, I’m actually leaving any minute to go to New York for a few meetings with the CEO.” Saying it out loud gives me heart palpitations. This trip isn’t just another meeting . . . it’s a potential multi-million dollar business deal.

She laughs. “You don’t sound all that excited. Haven’t you always wanted to go to New York City?”

“Yes, but on vacation. Not my first ever business meeting.”

“You’ll do fine. Besides, they wouldn’t have invited you if they didn’t think you could do it.”

“How are things back home?” I desperately need to think about something besides two days in New York with Pierce.

“Just trying to get ready for Christmas. Have you decided if you’re coming home yet?” Worry drips from her voice.

“I’m not sure. It depends on work and stuff, but I should know by the end of the week.”

“Well, I hope you do, but I’ll understand if you can’t.”

“I’m really going to try.” I glance up at the clock, feeling the nervousness that faded while talking to Mom creep back up. “I need to get going. My ride will be here any minute, but I promise to give you a call sometime this weekend.”

“Remember to have fun, and Lila, I know you can do this. You’re a smart girl, and you deserve everything that comes your way.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

By the time I throw my phone back in my bag, the weight on my shoulders isn’t quite as heavy. In a way, Mom is right . . . if Pierce didn’t think I could handle this, why would he risk losing such a big business deal. I honestly don’t think he’d put everything he’s worked hard for in jeopardy.

The doorbell rings, and my heart rate picks up again. Using the glass in the microwave, I straighten my hair then head to the door, opening it to Pierce, who stands suited in his signature gray. No matter how many times I see him like this, I stare longer than I should.

“Ready?” he asks, breaking my visual spell.

“I think so.”

“Here,” he says, stepping around me. “Let me take your bags.”

“You don’t have to do that, but thank you.”

He appears to be in a hurry, which is understandable since we have to make it through Chicago rush hour traffic in order to get to the airport. He strides a few feet in front of me, trailing my suitcase behind him.

“I need to lock the door,” I announce, pulling the key from my purse. Blake hasn’t been home since he left Monday night. My guess is he holes himself away in his studio, painting until he has no choice but to crash. Even after everything that’s happened between us, I still worry about him no matter how much I try to convince myself I shouldn’t.

When I finally turn back around, Pierce is waiting for me, eyeing me cautiously. “Are you okay?”

I wonder if my expression changes when Blake runs through my mind. “Yeah, it’s just early.”

“If you hurry, we have time to grab coffee.”

“Ah, how did you know I was an addict?”

He tilts his head, grinning. “I saw the k-cup collection in your apartment the other night. I assumed you were the addicted party.”

“Let’s get out of here then. You’d hate to see me if that addiction doesn’t get fed.”

“Good idea,” he says, starting down the hall again. As we make our way down the stairs, I wish for the hundredth time this building had an elevator. He’s carrying the suitcase, but I have the stupid heels.

The same black Escalade from the other night waits out front. The driver greets me. “Good morning, Ms. Fields.”

I smile in response. “Good morning.”

“I’ll take that from you.” He points to my briefcase. I hand it to him, grateful to have my shoulder back.

I step into the SUV, relishing in the warmth it offers. Pierce follows, taking the seat next to me. As the car starts down my street, he holds a venti Starbucks cup out to me. “Here.”

“I thought—”

He interrupts, “You shouldn’t underestimate me.”

“Do I need to tell you that I’m not very talkative until I’ve finished my coffee, or do you know that too?” I ask, feeling bold.

One side of his mouth turns up. “I would have figured it out in a minute or two, but thanks for the warning.”

“No problem.”

For the rest of the ride to the airport, I sip on my soy latte. How he knew how I liked my coffee is a mystery to me, but I’m not going to question it. It’s relaxing not to have to take the train, being crowded in with a bunch of people I don’t know. However, that same uncomfortable feeling will creep right back up when the wheels touch down in New York. People I don’t know. Meetings I’ll squirm through because I have no idea what’s going on.

We pull up in front of a building I don’t recognize. There’s only a few people standing on the sidewalk, and O’Hare is usually bustling with people.

“Where are we?”

“We’re taking the company jet.”

Confusion only leads to questions. “If you have a jet, why were you riding coach from Omaha to Chicago?”

He smiles. “My plane was being serviced. Besides, it all worked out, didn’t it?”

I brush his comment aside, feeling a lump form in my throat as I remember the hundreds of stories I’ve read over the years about small plane crashes. “Are those jets safe?”

“I’ve had this plane for six years, and between me and the rest of the Stanley execs, it flies two to three times a week. Never had a problem.”

I nod, but that doesn’t mean I’m okay with it. I’m not. If I’d known, I would have taken an anxiety pill or two before leaving the house this morning. Now, I’m screwed.

“We’re clear for take-off in about twenty minutes. They’ll just need to see your ID.”

My head spins so fast that the next few minutes are a total blur. I hand the lady inside my driver’s license and use the restroom . . . twice. I don’t really recall getting on the plane or buckling my seatbelt.

“Do you need anything before we take off?” the female flight attendant asks.

When I don’t answer, Pierce does it for me. “Bring her a water. I’ll take a coffee, black.”

She smiles warmly. “My pleasure.”

I can’t tell you what happened the rest of the flight . . . it’s all a blur.

MY LEGS SHAKE AS I TAKE the final step off the plane. Never in my life have I been this happy to walk on solid ground. I’ve taken it for granted.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Pierce asks, coming up behind me.

“We survived.”

“That we did, and, lucky for you, we get to take a car to our first appointment.” He surprises me, placing his hand on the small of my back to guide me to a waiting car. I should be used to it by now, but it still sends a little tingle down my spine. Even more so after dinner the other night.

“What’s on the agenda?” I ask as soon as we’re inside the waiting town car.

He displays a wide grin. “Not a fan of surprises?”

“Not usually.”

He runs his finger across his chin. “We’re going straight from here to meet with Wade. More than likely, we’ll grab lunch with him and tour the site. If we make it through all of that, I have a dinner reservation at New York’s most exclusive steakhouse. Thought if we were in the city, we might as well experience it.” He rattles it off without blinking an eye. Just listening to it makes me want to fall back onto my pillow.

“Does this schedule ever wear you out?”

He stretches his legs out, his tall frame taking up half the backseat. Everything about him commands my attention. His suit. The strong jaw framing his handsome face. “I don’t have anything else to do with my time, although I’m hoping that changes soon.”

The way he’s looking at me—eyes glossed over, touching his lower lip—defines the meaning of his words. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. His words from the other night ring through my head. It’s one of those moments where I’m not sure what to say, so instead, I stare out my window. The movement probably says more than I ever could. After all, the possibilities play in my head too. I just won’t admit it.

I relax back into the seat watching New York City fly by my window. I’ve always wanted to come here, but I envisioned seeing the Statue of Liberty and walking through museum after museum until I couldn’t stand to be on my feet any longer. I’d also get one of those frozen hot chocolates from Serendipity; I’ve always wondered if they are as good as they look.

“What’s going through that head of yours?” Pierce asks, breaking through my big city dreams.

“Frozen hot chocolate,” I answer.

He doesn’t say anything until I glance over at him. “Have you ever had one?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“We might have to change that.”

We spend the next several hours in meetings, going over budgets and design concepts with Wade Adams. After ten minutes, I knew I wasn’t going to be a fan of his. He’s on some sort of power trip over Pierce, displaying a constant stream of arrogance and defiance. There’s obvious history between them, and I’m starting to wonder why we’re even here.

“If I have to spend ten more minutes with that asshole, I’m going to punch him,” Pierce remarks as we climb into the waiting car. We just finished our tour of the site, but made plans with Wade to meet one more time before we leave tomorrow. It’s safe to say neither of us is looking forward to it.

“Do you need me to hold you back?”

He laughs, eyes wandering my small frame. “Good luck with that.”

“There are ways to distract you.” The glimmer in his eyes tells me that it wasn’t the best choice of words. “What’s the plan now?” I ask, hoping to lead his mind on a detour.

“We have a couple hours before our dinner reservation. I thought we’d check into the hotel, and then you can take a nap or attempt to make yourself even more beautiful than you already are. It’s up to you.”

He’s smooth . . . really smooth.

He’s sexy and intense, yet harmless. He hints, but he doesn’t push. He’s not the type to take what I haven’t offered.

“Where are we staying?” I ask.

“Four Seasons.”

He doesn’t spare an expense. I’ve only ever heard about it but never stayed anywhere like it. Not even close.

The car pulls in front of the sleek and elegant high-rise hotel. “This is amazing,” I say, all but pressing my forehead to the window.

Pierce slides across the seat until his body touches mine. I glance over, noticing him look out the window right along with me. “Wait until you see the inside.” He whispers the words so close to my ear, I feel his warm breath against my skin.

“What are we waiting for then?”

The driver shifts the car into park and comes around to open my door. “Go on inside, miss, and I’ll send your luggage in with the bellman,” he says as I step up onto the curb.

“Thank you.” I smile at him, watching Pierce slip money into his hand.

The revolving door opens to something just as magnificent—a multi-story entry, columns, and patterned limestone floors. Even if I’d had twenty years of design training at the best schools, I couldn’t have come up with this.

“What do you think?” Pierce asks.

“I don’t think I ever want to go back to Chicago.” It’s the truth.

“We could arrange that too.”

I tug my lower lip between my teeth. “Let’s revisit that at the end of the night.”

I’m joking, but I’m not. Chicago is nice, but New York City is magical. The culture. Everything.

While Pierce checks us in, I stay back, looking at more of the décor and people. New York is so diverse. In this lobby alone, I hear several languages, see different types of people. I could spend hours, listening and observing.

“Ready?” I jump, holding my chest as I glance over my shoulder at Pierce.

“You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” He smiles, swiping his thumb across my cheek. “We’re on the thirty-fourth floor.”

A million thoughts flash through my mind. He wouldn’t have booked us for the same room, would he? My gut reaction is to offer to get my own, but there’s no way in hell I can afford this place.

“Do you need help up with your bags, sir?” a bellman asks.

Pierce glances at the two small suitcases being swallowed by the oversized cart. “I think I can handle it, but thank you.” He hands the guy some cash and picks up our bags like they weigh nothing. “After you,” he says, nodding toward the elevator.

I walk on shaky knees, my mind still taken with possibilities and how I’m going to react to each one. When the door opens, I step inside, with Pierce following me close behind. To my dismay, the elevator closes with only the two of us within its four walls.

“Did someone steal your voice?” he asks.

“Are we both on the thirty-fourth floor?” I blurt, looking up just long enough to see his bewildered expression. I’ll stick to memorizing every inch of the limestone floors.

“Of course” he answers, matter of fact.

Shit. For the rest of the ride up, I fidget with the strap on my purse. I hate being pushed into uncomfortable situations.

I concentrate on the climbing floor number lit above the door. The elevator moves faster than normal—too fast—then it jerks, coming to a stop with a bright thirty-four blinking up high.

“Are you going to get out?” I’m standing like a roadblock in the center of the elevator, caging Pierce and our bags in the corner.

One foot in front of the other, Lila.

“It’s room 3410,” he announces from behind me.

I look up to make sure I’m going in the right direction then get lost in my own inner madness again. It’s a crazy place where I seem to spend a lot of my time lately.

3406

Shit.

3408

Double shit.

“Here we are,” he says. I stand like a woman of stone as he sets the luggage down and grabs a key card from his pocket. The door opens to a light, airy room, accented by oversized windows and beige and white fabrics. It has a spacious living area on one side and a king bed on the other. My panic hits a high . . . there’s only one bed.

“Will this room do?” Pierce asks, opening the curtain a little wider.

I swallow. I’m not good at this—the games and the lies. Crossing my arms over my chest, I carry my heavy feet to stand in front of the window that looks over the hustle and bustle of the city. “No,” I finally answer, my voice just above a whisper.

I sense his presence behind me. His warmth. His strong masculine scent. And when I’m about to turn and face him, his fingers curve around my upper arms then slowly slide down. “Are you cold?”

I shake my head, but his hands stay on me, continuing to cover the chill that doesn’t exist.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to order you a bottle of red wine?”

Tempting, but I shake my head again. Being alone with a guy like Pierce with alcohol flowing through my veins would have consequences—especially with one bed. “I think I’m just tired.”

He squeezes my arms one last time then releases me. “I’ll leave you alone to get some rest. Meet me at the hotel steakhouse at eight. Reservation is under my name.”

I spin around, confused. “Umm . . . where are you going?”

He looks at me with narrowed eyes. “To my room.”

“To your room?”

“Yes, to my room. I’m in 3411.”

“So you’re not sleeping here?”

He grins wide, showing his perfect white teeth. “Not unless you want me to.”

“I think I’ll be okay.”

He shrugs.

My eyes fixate on him as he makes his way across the room, picking up his suitcase along the way. “Oh, before I forget, do you have something to wear tonight? It’s black tie.”

“I got it covered.”

Before exiting the room, he winks. “I’m sure you do.”

As soon as the door clicks, I fall back onto the pillowtop bed, every muscle in my body relaxing.