Chapter Four
The inclination to leave with him ate at her like a virus infecting her body. She had been with older men before—not quite as old as him, usually college guys—so it wasn’t just the taboo factor that infatuated her.
It was something about him.
She didn’t know his name, where he was from, what he did. She didn’t know anything. Just that he was married. Separated. She gathered he was wealthy by the fact that he was at this club, wearing an expensive suit, and drinking top-shelf scotch. All these things mattered in her world even if her dad had chosen to ignore them by marrying beneath him.
But what intrigued her the most was precisely that she didn’t know if she could trust him. Yet, without that knowledge, maybe because of the danger and mystery, she still wanted to leave with him.
She was sure it was more than just the fact that she wanted to fuck him. It was something in his eyes that said he understood her. It was something in his smile that said he identified with what she was going through. It was something in his confidence that said he recognized the act she was putting on. It was something about the desire in that kiss that said he would worship her.
Fuck caution.
“Let’s go,” she said finally.
He smiled smugly as if he always knew things would end this way. Perhaps he had. She hadn’t exactly made it difficult for him. She could have, but she was sure he still would have fought for her.
“I’ll close out my tab,” he told her.
He took her hand and guided her back to the bar.
While he had his back to her, she fished her phone out of her clutch and pulled up Gates’s number. She hit Call and waited. He answered at the last second in a drowsy haze. She hadn’t even considered that she was three hours behind him. The time difference always fucked with his sleep schedule.
“Babe,” he murmured in greeting.
“It’s over, Gates.”
“Hmm?” He yawned on the other line. “Tonight?”
“No. Forever.”
“What’s going on?” He seemed to be growing more alert.
“I’m breaking it off.”
“You with someone else?”
He didn’t even sound hurt, just curious. She had suspected as much, but it irritated her more than she had thought.
“Yeah.”
“All right. I’ll see you when I get back to L.A.”
“No,” she said, frustrated. “This is really over.”
He chuckled softly into the phone. “Bri, you want other dick. That’s fine.”
“Why is that fine?”
Gates always brought out the more human side of her that she usually hid behind her hard exterior.
“Because I’m on the other side of the country and not able to give you what you need. When I come back, we’ll figure it out.”
She shook her head. Why did he have to take this so calmly?
Fucking asshole.
“We’re not going to figure it out. I don’t think I should have to dumb it down for you to understand what I’m telling you. I said, it’s over. I mean, it’s over. Good night, Gates.”
She hung up the phone before he could say another word. Well, that had been an interesting conversation. Of all the things she had expected from Gates, she hadn’t wagered for disbelief. She was Bryna Turner. She could get any guy she wanted. How could he not believe that she would find someone else? Was he that conceited?
By the time he realized that she was serious, she would be long gone.
“Ready to go?” the man asked, coming up behind her.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He didn’t ask about her conversation, and she was glad. She didn’t want to tell him about it.
“Lead the way,” she told him.
Grabbing her hand, he walked her through the crowded bar and out onto the street. He passed his ticket to the valet. A few minutes later, a shiny Jaguar convertible pulled up in front of Allure.
She raised her eyebrows in appreciation. Her father collected cars, so she had been taught to drive a stick as soon as her feet could reach the pedals. She wouldn’t mind taking this beauty out for a joyride. Her eyes traveled back to the man who was climbing into the driver’s side. Maybe a joyride of a different nature.
“Nice ride,” she said. “XKR-S, next year’s model. This thing goes zero to sixty in about four seconds and has a top speed of, what? One eighty? Two hundred?”
“One eighty-six.” He looked over at her, impressed. “You know cars?”
“I know a thing or two,” she said, running her hand down the side of the car. She sank into the passenger seat and glanced over at him in wonder. “So, what do you do?”
He winced slightly and gave her an apologetic look.
Oh.
So, it was like that? She wasn’t supposed to know any personal details about him?
That was fine.
Whatever.
“Never mind,” she muttered. She wasn’t that kind of girl. Fuck!
“Sorry. The last woman who asked me that was a gold digger.”
He did look like he was sorry. But he had just compared her to a fucking gold digger.
“And do you think I’m a gold digger just because I asked you about your job?”
He shrugged. “You can never be too careful.”
She glared at him. If she was going to share information about herself, then she could dress him down with how ludicrous it was to call her a gold digger. Her father was a multimillion-dollar director, her mother was an actress, and even her grandmother had been a successful actress. She would never need to stoop to such degrading extremes for money. She lived in Bel Air and went to school in Beverly Hills.
Enough said.
“I’m not a fucking gold digger. I just like your car.”
“Okay.”
“And anyway you wouldn’t be driving it if you didn’t want people to admire it.”
He shrugged. “Fair enough.”
The drive to his place didn’t take as long as she had anticipated. With him driving a car like this, she had expected him to be in a gated community in the Hills. She knew the area they were in though. It was full of wealthy apartments and condominiums for people who worked in the city and didn’t want to deal with traffic. Her father preferred to stay at a suite at the Beverly Wilshire, or the like, when he had business in the city, but he had colleagues who would get similar apartments.
They took the elevator to the top floor and walked into a large suite apartment. It was immaculately decorated but didn’t have a scrap of personal touch to it. No pictures of the wife he was separated from. Nothing to suggest he was anything but an affluent businessman.
“Drink?” he offered.
“How about a name?”
He sent her a curious look and then walked toward a bar on the other side of the room. He poured two glasses of scotch from a crystal decanter and brought one over to her. She weighed it in her hands and nearly smiled in delight at the quality.
“Have you ever done this before?”
She stared straight ahead. “Done what?”
He came up behind her and spoke softly into her ear, “Been with a stranger.”
She shivered. “Yes.”
It was kind of the truth. She had fooled around with guys she had met only a handful of times at parties, but she had never allowed them to go further than that.
“I like the mystery of not knowing.” He trailed his hand down her arm.
She had to do everything not to shiver all over again. “So…you do this often?” She didn’t keep the bite out of her voice. He laughed melodically behind her and nipped at her neck. “Is this why you’re separated?”
He sighed. “No. That’s…complicated.” He clearly didn’t want to talk about it. “But to answer your first question, I don’t do this often. And I’ve certainly never met anyone as beautiful as you.”
“Flattery doesn’t work,” she said.
“Oh?” His hand trailed down the gold zipper of her form-fitting dress. He stopped right before it reached her ass and then splayed his hand out across her lower back. “It’s hardly flattery when it’s the truth.”
“A name.”
“Any name?”
She turned around to face him and stared up into his intense dark eyes. What secrets was he hiding? Could it possibly be as many as she was keeping?
She felt it in the pit of her stomach that somehow he felt as empty as she did. She walked through life, surrounded by a sea of blindingly happy people. Life had been laid out before them, and they didn’t have a care in the world.
But when she looked up at him, the emptiness that had consumed her after her parents’ divorce, maybe even before that, seemed to find a twin.
“Just a name. It can’t be that hard.” She breathed out slowly in anticipation. “I’m Bri.”
With the nickname, she could at least keep him from figuring out that she was Bryna Turner. There weren’t many Brynas in Hollywood, even fewer pronounced Brihn-uh. She wasn’t ready for him to know that name, not when it could lead him back to the fact that she was in high school.
He mulled over the name for a second before sticking his hand out and responding, “Jude.”