ARROGANT PLAYBOY (45 page)

I uncross and re-cross my legs
the opposite way, turning back toward the T.V. Some soccer game is playing, and
I pretend it’s the most engrossing thing I’ve ever seen. Anything is better
than having a staring contest with the world’s most arrogant stranger.

“I wasn’t done speaking to
you.” His words slice through the tight space between us. His need to control
and dominate this conversation is insulting.

“Pardon me?”

“I introduced myself, and then
you said nothing and turned away.” He lifts his drink to his full mouth, his
eyes burning into mine as he pulls in a sip. “It’s rude.”

My jaw falls, and I jerk my
attention away. Any quick fantasies I may have had about this man a few minutes
ago have dissipated.

I stare at my drink, squinting
one eye and estimating that there might be a couple more ounces left to finish.
A sigh escapes my lips when I promptly remember I bought the whole bottle. I’m
certainly no champagne connoisseur, but this stuff doesn’t taste cheap.

I’m going to be here a while.

I can’t just skit out the door
dragging my dignity behind me like I did at RJM Corporation.

“My apologies.” I don’t mean
it. I demolish the rest of my drink like I’m an old pro and nod at Matt before
turning to Dane again. I know how to play this game. I know how to tell people
what they want to hear to bandage an awkward situation. It’s practically my way
of life at home, and it works like a charm with my father. “My mind must be
elsewhere today. I didn’t intend to offend you.”

“You didn’t offend me.”

He’s slipping under my skin
with skilled finesse, arrogance and all.

“Good to hear.” I slide my
empty glass toward Matt. I want another even though this one’s already snaking
through me faster than I could’ve anticipated. I’m two seconds away from telling
him to bother someone else if only there were someone else around for him to
bother. “If you don’t mind.”

I force a tight-lipped smile
and nod toward the T.V., trying desperately to ignore the obnoxious amount of
power this stranger wields in his unrelenting stare.

Matt refills my drink, pouring
clear to the top.

Numb warmth invades my cheeks
at the same time.

This must be what a buzz feels
like.

“So what exactly are you
celebrating today?” Dane asks. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen a young woman
drinking champagne at eleven o’clock on a Tuesday.”

“New job.” I refuse to make eye
contact. I’m disengaging and hoping it’s only a matter of time before he takes
the hint.

“Where?”

I swallow hard and clear my
throat lightly.

Of course he would ask that.

“Mutchler Corporation.”

His head tilts and his lips jut
for a second. “Ah. Working for Randy?”

My heart sputters to a stop.

“Right.” I force a coolness in
my tone that implies I wholeheartedly believe my own lies.

“What will you be doing at
RJM?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.” My
brows lift as my eyes dart to him, desperate to gauge whether or not he’s
buying this. “It’s not exactly official yet. Nothing’s been signed. The terms
and titles are private. You know how that goes.”

He can’t argue the details if I
give him none.

His palm rakes across the
underside of his smooth, cleft chin as the corners of his mouth lift enough to
show a hint of dimples. “I know
exactly
how that goes. I know Randy quite well. We run in the same…
circles
.”

My cheeks flood with red, and I
tilt my head down just enough that my hair covers them. Funny how lying could
make me feel so powerful and invincible a second ago, and then this man so
easily flips it all on its side.

“Randy mentioned he was going
to be hiring a…
concierge
.” Dane holds
a wicked flash in his steely gaze. “What’s a girl like you doing taking a job
like
that
?”

“It sounded like an interesting
job.” I sweep my hair from my shoulder and take another slow sip. “I guess I
was the most qualified applicant.”

Vagueness and ambiguity fuels
this conversation though I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this running.

“You don’t want to work for
Randy,” he says, leaning into me. He flashes a white smile, the first one I’ve
seen on him since he walked in here. My attraction to him, as much as I try to
fight it, soars off the charts for a moment. “Trust me.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you should be working
for me.”

I lean away, a laugh bubbling
in my balled stomach. “You don’t mince words, do you?”

“I’m a man who knows what he
wants and isn’t afraid to go after it.”

“Are you proposing that I work
for you instead?”

“I’m demanding that you not
work for Randy.” His gaze floods my veins with warmth and overruns my thought
process for a moment. “You’re all wrong for him. Believe me when I tell you
that.”

“Are you offering me a job?”

I came to the city for a job.
I’m determined to leave with one.

At
any cost.

“It depends,” he says. “Can you
offer me the same services, terms, and agreements you were going to offer Randy
as his concierge?”

“Of course.” I fight the rush
of crimson that tries to consume my entire body, never knowing it was possible
to blush from head to toe. My gut tells me I’ve no idea what I’m agreeing to,
but I have no other choice. Flipping burgers back home and babysitting for
local neighborhood families isn’t going to fill my bank account with the kind
of money I need to secure my future and ensure I don’t end up married off to
Cortland or any other polygamous asshole.

I need a
real
job, and this man is offering me one.

“When can you start?”

“Just like that, you’re hiring
me?” I try to hide the excitement in my tone, but my words are rushed, and my
lips are twisted into a smile. “You don’t want to interview me first? Check my
references?”

“I don’t need to check your
references. The fact that Randy Mutchler wanted you tells me all I need to
know.” He leans back, cocking his elbow against the bar. Our bodies are
perfectly aligned though I’m not sure about our intentions. “He’s a very
particular man. I’m sure he’s run you through a battery of tests.”

Now would be a great time to
tell him I’m a dirty, rotten liar.

“Can I think about it?” If I
jump all over this chance, the way I want to, he’ll call my bluff, and this’ll
all be over.

“What’s there to think about?”
His dark brow rises while the other one slants.

“Salary. Benefits.”

Dane smirks. “Randy’s a cheap
bastard. I can assure you anything he’s offered you will be paltry compared to
my compensation package.”

My heart races and then pounds
hard until I hear it whooshing in my ears.

“How much was he offering you?”
His brows meet.

“Fifteen,” I say, meaning
fifteen dollars per hour.

“I’ll give you twenty.” He
doesn’t hesitate. “Twenty grand per month to start. It’s not negotiable.”

My entire being tenses as I try
to play it cool. I’m screaming on the inside, jumping, flipping, and
cartwheeling from here to the Catalina Islands.

“Twenty is fine.”

“You’ll start Monday.” There’s
finality in his voice as if he’s signaling that this discussion is over, and
it’s over because he says it is. His grey-blue eyes flicker and settle before
he rises from his bar stool.

“And what is it I’ll be doing
for you exactly?”

“Everything you were going to
be doing for Randy.” He reaches into his left breast pocket and pulls out his
card, our fingers grazing as we exchange the thick cardstock embossed with his
company’s logo. His other hand works his wallet from his suit jacket. He turns
for a moment to pull out a crisp, one-hundred dollar bill and presses it into
the bar top. “Your champagne is on me. I’ll see you next week.”

BELLAMY

“I got the job.” I drop my bag
on the kitchen island where two of my three mothers are chopping fruit for what
looks like a bowl of ambrosia. My current state of excitement completely
overrides the fact that I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into. “Just like
I said I would.”

Summer, my father’s second
wife, glances up at me before shooting a look at my mother, Jane. She says
nothing but her look says it all. They disapprove of me wanting to work outside
the house. The only reason my father agreed was because I suggested I could
work for a few months to save up money for my future wedding, which he believes
will be happening soon now that I’m courting Cortland. Ultimately, my mothers’
ideas of a woman’s role involve birthing babies and cleaning house while
remaining faithful and loyal to their dominant husbands.

“That’s great, sweetie.” My
mom’s voice is as fake as the red lipstick she wore at dinner when Cortland
visited last week.

“You’re really happy for me,
Mom?”

I know she’s not, but I want to
hear her lie one more time if only to prove that everybody does it.

“Of course.”

She’s definitely a liar. Not
unlike myself today. That and she doesn’t want to say something that could
warrant a private talk from my father after dinner about morals and sinning. It
turns into a whole church sermon by the time he’s done.

Those are annoying.

His talks require taking a seat
in his den and listening to him lecture while appearing agreeable and
remorseful for having thoughts that didn’t jive with the way he ran his family.

Kath, his third wife, had it
the worst. She wasn’t raised with the confines of AUB teachings. Polygamy was
new to her. This religion was new to her. She learned after the first year to
stop questioning so much and to just submit.

“Where are you working again?”
Summer asks as if I haven’t already told them a million times.

“Some corporation in Salt Lake
City. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it.” My mind goes to the script on the
business card. “Townsend Energy Holdings. They’re a renewable energy
organization.”

Sadly, that’s the only thing I
know. I’d Google him if I could.

But I can’t. My father has a
Christian internet filter installed on my laptop. I can only access religious
and educational websites.

“Oh, so like solar energy? Wind
energy?” Summer dumps a handful of chopped pineapple into a bowl of
marshmallows.

“Exactly.” I nod, wearing the
confident expression I summoned from the depths of my liar-liar-pants-on-fire
soul.

“Don’t get too attached to this
job,” Mom says through half-pursed lips. Her nose scrunches as she shoots me a
look. “You know it’s only temporary. Once you marry Cortland, he may not want
you working outside the home.”

These fools really believe I’m
going to marry Cortland.

“Yes, I know. I’m just saving
money for my future. For
our
future.”
I lean my elbows against the counter. “If it’s God’s will that I marry
Cortland, we’ll have a beautiful wedding and a nice war chest to start our life
with. And this gives me something to channel my energy into for the time being.
I hate to be one of those girls who obsess over their future husband, you know?
Like Holly Dwyers from church. Remember her? And that man ended up deciding not
to marry her in the end. That girl needed a hobby outside of courting.”

“Cortland came into your life
at just the right time. I’ve been saying for months now that it’s time for you
to meet someone, Bellamy,” Summer says. Her eyes light up and mist at the same
time. “No one deserves to be lonely.”

News flash, I’m not lonely.
Finding a man is the least of my concerns.

“I can’t wait for you to have
babies.” Summer grins ear to ear like my future is playing before her eyes on
some imaginary movie screen. “You’re so good with the kids. You’re going to be
a great mother. I just know it.”

“I’m just glad she’ll be a
first wife,” my mother interjects, her eyes on me. “Firstborns are stubborn and
headstrong. Bellamy would never do well as number two or three or, God-forbid,
four. Can you imagine Bellamy being that far down the chain of command?”

“Is that how you think of us,
Jane?” Summer leans against the counter, her smile fading. “As numbers? Less
superior than yourself?”

They bicker like sisters
sometimes, though I suppose that’s basically what they are: sisters with a
spiritual bond who share a husband.

Totally normal.

Everybody does it.

Psh.

“You know that’s not what I
meant. I was simply stating an observation about my daughter,” my mother fires
back.

“
Our
daughter,” Summer reminds her.

I slip out unnoticed and trek
up to my room to slip out of my pencil skirt and button down. My hand traces
the lines of the calendar hanging above my desk. I lift a few pages until I get
to August.

Four more months.

I did the math in the car on
the way home.

All I need is four more months,
and then I should be able to afford a place for my eighteen-year-old sister,
Waverly, and myself to stay while we figure things out, because I’m taking her
with me. If my father is itching to marry me off, she’s going to be next. She’s
about to graduate from high school. I can’t leave her behind. And someday we’ll
come back for the others.

Four more months until my life
is my own.

I’ll be able to give my body
and soul and heart and mind to a man of my choosing when I choose to do it.

I’ll belong to no one.

I’ll submit to no one.

Submission has never been in my
DNA.