Brett tasted like cigarettes and champagne, but I ignored the unpleasant combination and thought about something else. The warm summer breeze, the distant sound of the ocean lapping at the shore, and the fact that Val was behind me. Val was watching me. Watching this.
I turned my face, and Brett’s lips skewed sloppily across my cheek. Years of practice kept me from cringing.
“I’m sorry,” I said, bowing my head. Hair spilled forward, and his hands flew up to push the strands away. They fell through his fingers like blond water, and I knew he loved the sensation. There were three things that made me desirable to Brett Decker: my long hair, my fine-boned face, and how delicate and slight I appeared beneath the safety of loose cloth or layers. Brett liked his boys weak and pretty, the way he imagined most women should be. It made him feel less queer for wanting to nail me. Sometimes, I wished he’d meet Meredith Stone or Stephanie Quinones so they could tear him to pieces for being such a sexist pig. Other times, I wished I could do it myself.
“Why are you leaving already?” he asked. “It’s early.”
“It’s nearly five.” I peered at him through my hair, biting my lip just the way he liked. His eyes dropped to my mouth, and he moved closer. “I’m feeling really unwell. I tried to tell you before . . .”
A glimmer of frustration crossed his face. “You look fine. I’ve been waiting to see you for days.”
“I’m on antibiotics,” I protested. “I only forced myself to come so I could see you, even for a little while. But I’m so tired now.”
“Sleep here,” he said automatically. “That’s what I’d planned.”
My mouth curved up. “You planned to fuck me all night. That’s not really sleeping . . .”
“Sleep after, and I’ll take care of you in the morning.”
“And get you sick?” I shook my head, adopting another sad expression. “I was bedridden for five days, darling. Can you miss that much time at the office?”
His growing frown made it clear contracting a mysterious and invented illness wasn’t something he could fit into his schedule, so he conceded by brutally kissing me again. His fingers dug in too hard, his teeth clashing against mine too violently. It felt more like an assault than a sign of affection. Judging by the heavy and disgusted sigh drifting over from Val’s car, it was obvious he concurred.
Brett ripped away, breathing hard. “Is that your driver?”
I shook my head. “A friend.”
Brett’s attention shifted to Val’s car, and the gears began to churn. Estimating the Blue Book value of a fifteen-year-old dented Camry, likely trying to see Val inside and only catching a glimpse of eyes so green they shone like emeralds. Wondering who he was. Why he’d decided to make his impatience so clear . . .
“I woke him up and begged a ride,” I explained, cocking my head. “My usual driver is also sick, so . . .”
“Ah.”
Brett lost interest and went back to groping me. One hand clamped around my wrist as he guided me down the wide staircase, simultaneously treating me like a toddler while doing his best to exert his dominance. So interesting how many men like Brett I’d met in my life. Very odd how they called me beautiful, perfect, fragile like porcelain, and spent every moment making it clear that they wanted to control me.
He nudged me closer to the car, and I made a soft sound of pleasure at the unwanted help. I let him kiss me again with Val only three feet away. His irritation swarmed audibly like a disturbed beehive, and my stomach knotted. Don’t say anything. Please don’t start anything.
“I’ll call you,” I promised Brett. “We’ll see each other soon.”
“We better. I’m not in the habit of waiting.” Brett gave me a slow once-over. “But you’re worth it.”
“As soon as I’m well, we’ll be together.”
“Promise me, Ashton.”
Reaching behind me, I curled my fingers around the door handle. My escape was so close, but Brett was still watching, waiting, and figuring me out. I prided myself on being a good actor, on giving men what they wanted and whispering sweet lies in their ears, but this one was smart. Smart enough to know why I was spending time with him, but not quite catching on to why I was fleeing before following through on the planned seduction. Like most people who were familiar with my name, he probably expected me to be capable of anything, fucking anyone, and not letting it keep me up at night.
“Next time,” I said, still smiling and looking at him beneath my lashes. “I won’t disappoint you.”
From the car, I heard a muttered, “Jesus Christ,” but Brett was oblivious as he stared me down, likely thinking about all the things he wanted to do with me. He’d told me some of them after our first encounter—a business dinner where my role had been to draw his attention, hold his gaze, and leave him wanting to know more about me. Easiest assignment ever, and it had helped when he’d mentioned his gay nephew who was having trouble adjusting to being out in a wealthy family. I’d instantly become intrigued, earnestly asking for details and showing true concern after learning the kid had run way from home.
I’d thought our conversation had been purposeful, so I’d given him my number in the hopes we could continue it later, and maybe I could help in ways other than letting him get in my pants. His messages had focused on his concern for a while before they’d turned into pleas to see me again, earnest messages about his loneliness, and then more explicit messages about what he could do to me in the bedroom. Cock shots had uploaded pretty soon after.
The whole thing still gave me the creeps because I couldn’t decide if he’d used his nephew as a lure, or whether his lust and his concern weren’t mutually exclusive. I hoped they weren’t. Or that the kid wasn’t just a story he’d made up.
Brett relinquished his hold on me, and by the time I’d slid into the passenger’s seat of Val’s car, weariness had settled in my bones. The locks clicked loud enough to startle me in the silence because there was no music playing, which was uncharacteristic. Val always had the station set on one that played nineties hip-hop and R&B. I stole a glance at him while buckling my seat belt, and grimaced. Even with his face cast in shadows, those green eyes were flashing judgment as he gripped the steering wheel.
“You’re so fucking fake.”
“I know.”
Scoffing, Val looked away. He took off fast enough to burn rubber, steering back toward the gate and leaving Brett’s colossal mansion in our dust. It felt freeing, except for the way I could still taste him and feel the imprint of his hands on my skin.
“Do you have any gum?”
“Trying to get the scumbag out of your mouth?”
“He’s not a scumbag,” I said. “Well, I don’t think so. Not entirely.”
“Uh-huh.” Val felt around in the center console, found a pack of gum, and tossed it at me. “He’s a scumbag, and he’s old as hell. AARP style.”
I popped the tablet of gum into my mouth and snorted a laugh. “You’re so dramatic.”
“Yeah, right, I’m the dramatic one.” Val slumped back in the driver’s seat, driving one-handed, his other hand slack on the center console. Oh so tempting . . . “Was there a reason for him to drag you around like a ragdoll?”
“Older guys usually treat me like a fragile young thing they have to lead around.”
Val didn’t need to speak for me to pick up on the overprotective streak that had led to him installing Find My iPhone on my phone several years ago. Not that I’d protested. Things were better now, but there had been a time when I’d been in constant need of finding. A time when I’d been reckless with myself and others because no one had seemed to give a damn about anything I did. My brothers were the ones who brought value to the family. I’d been the embarrassment. So I’d done whatever, whenever, and then vanished until someone found me. Usually Valdrin.
I gave up on resistance and grabbed his hand, bringing it to my lips. I kissed each swollen and busted knuckle and watched him the entire time. Waiting for a twinge of something, discomfort or irritation, but he just shook his head. I didn’t know what was more disappointing—that the sparks I sometimes felt between us were likely nonexistent or that he seemed to think I was this affectionate with everybody.
“I thought you were over this, Ashton.”
“Over what?” I asked between kisses. “Partying? Drinking? Begging you to rescue me?”
He pulled his hand away. “Over letting old pervy men use you.”
“He’s not even old. He’s maybe forty-five.”
“Right.” Val’s eyes flicked over to me, scanning up and down, before returning to the road. “Do you want me to go through the list of older rich motherfuckers you let defile you in the past ten years?”
“It has not been ten years,” I protested. “I would have been fourteen. I didn’t start sleeping with older guys until I was sixteen.”
“Whatever, Ashton. Every old bastard on the board of Townsend Telecom has had a piece of you, and I thought you were over playing these stupid games.” Val glared straight ahead, his shoulders hunching as the car sped along toward the Long Island Expressway. There were no other cars on the road, and his features were only illuminated by random street lights that lit on his stubbled jaw, the slope of his nose, and his short dark hair. Although it was longer since I’d last seen him. “When are you going to find something else to do with yourself besides keeping a tally of how many straight billionaires you can seduce?”
My back straightened, and I ripped my starved gaze away from his face. The relief I felt in his presence crumbled until I was wrapping my arms around myself and turning slightly away to lean against the door. There was nothing but darkness outside, so I rolled down the window and rested my head against the open frame. The wind tore at my hair, whipping blond strands out into the night. I pretended the strength of the wind could blow away the remnants of Brett’s touch and jumped when a strong hand slid up to brace against the column of my neck.
I knew Val was trying to guide me away from the window so he could close it and keep talking to me, but I didn’t move. Having his fingers on me was much nicer than hearing his angry words. He must have understood that, because his attempts to pull me in devolved into him massaging the side and back of my neck until I was a puddle of contentment. Luckily, the rush of the wind and purr of the engine hid my sighs of pleasure.
When Val finally retracted his hand, I followed. Shifting over the center console to lean my head against his neck and press into his side, forcing him to drape his arm around my shoulders. Déjà vu hit me suddenly, and I saw us together in this very same car on the weekend of my eighteenth birthday. Summertime in the Hamptons, and an unchaperoned party so lavish that it’d been overwhelming. I’d gotten drunk fast, and Val had been there because I’d begged him, hiding in the pool house with an Xbox, until I’d crawled into his lap crying about having no friends but him. He’d driven me away from my own party and we’d sped down this same highway with me sniffling into his shirt. And then he’d taken me home, fallen asleep tangled up with me, and I’d woken up so turned on I’d nearly lost my mind.
God, I’d been pathetic for the majority of my life. So desperate for him to see me as something besides a whiny rich kid he had to take care of, and always failing. I had been a whiny rich kid. Now, I was a messy one. Not exactly boyfriend material, which had been my secret desire since we’d been ten.
My eyes closed as the memories washed over me, and I pressed a light kiss against his shoulder. He didn’t react, so I trailed feathery brushes of my lips all over him—a line up the junction of his neck and shoulder, to his jaw—as he guided the car along the highway. His shoulders didn’t tense until my lips brushed the corner of his mouth, which is when I realized he’d been fighting tonight.
“Your lip is busted,” I said in his ear. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Did you win?” I asked, not keeping the disapproval from my own tone. “If you’re going to hurt my favorite person’s face, you better be winning.”
I felt more than saw his smile. “Yeah, I won.”
I traced his puffy lower lip with my thumb and found where it was split. “Does it hurt?”
“Nah.”
“Liar.”
He smiled again, bigger this time, and turned his face just enough for me to kiss the part of his lip that was split. When he didn’t shove me away like he always did, I flicked my tongue against it.
Two things happened at once—Val’s lips parted and a horn blared loud enough to startle me into releasing an alarmed cry. I scooted back into my seat as Val twisted the wheel to swerve into the other lane and around a car with broken taillights. I leaned out the window and flipped him off.
“Fix your fucking lights, dickhead!”
I ducked back inside and rolled up the window as Val’s laughter filled the car.
“You’re ridiculous,” he said, shoulders shaking. “Slurring drunkenly about someone else’s bad driving.”
“That’s really dangerous,” I said indignantly. “And I’m not even that drunk.”
He was still laughing, but he grabbed my shoulder and hauled me close to him again. I’d honestly expected him to yell at me for distracting him while driving, but instead he pressed a brief kiss to my forehead and kept his arm around me.
“Never change.”
“I won’t.”
He squeezed my shoulder. “I like it when you’re my Ashton and not that other guy.”
I closed my eyes again. “I know.”
I woke up to find Val parking in front of my building and talking to the doorman.
“—take him upstairs but don’t want to get towed if I park here.”
“No worries, Mr. Leka. Kevin can move your car to the garage, if that’s okay with you?”
“It’s been okay all the other times,” Val said with a laugh. “And stop calling me Mr. Leka.”
Blinking awake, I ran a hand through my windblown hair and didn’t bother to look at myself in the mirror. Realizing what a mess I looked like wouldn’t do anything besides send me scurrying into the building before Val could see me. And I wanted him to walk me upstairs. Doing my best to moisten my lips and rub sleep from my eyes, I glanced at him now that we were beneath the street lights of Manhattan. He was way more worse for wear than I’d thought, and there was a massive bruise on his jaw.
“Holy shit!”
He rolled his eyes. “Let’s go.”
Protests filled my mouth, but I hung on to them until we were alone. I waved at Rick, the doorman, and fumbled in my pockets for a random wad of cash. It was probably a ridiculous amount, but he didn’t have time to refuse it because I was hurrying to catch up with Val’s long-legged strides. Now that I’d slept, I felt soberer, but my head was swimming from the combination of alcohol and a broken REM sleep. I vaguely remembered dreaming only moments ago of Val’s body beneath mine, which was distracting with him walking ahead of me. His body was incredible, and I couldn’t stop staring at his ass. He’d turned into a gym rat when we were teens, and since then I’d been entranced by how delicious and round his butt was.
“When are you going to quit fighting?” I asked.
“Never.”
Val jammed his thumb against the Up button on the elevator, and the doors whooshed open. We slid inside, and I wilted against the wall, frowning at him.
“You don’t even like it that much! The money can’t be that good.”
“I haven’t made a dime yet, Ashton. It won’t happen unless I go pro, which is the point of me working this hard for so long.”
Talking about boxing with Val was never easy, because I was the only one who knew he wasn’t really into it. He did it because he had natural talent, and since he was a child, he’d seen it as an eventual way out of the financial crunch he’d been born into and never been able to escape. Just thinking about it caused my chest to constrict. “But when will that even happen? You’ve been fighting for years . . .”
“If I qualify for the Olympics, I have a good shot.” Val’s shoulders tensed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. The position made his biceps bulge and his T-shirt draw tighter to his chest. “But that’s all a dream right now. Qualifying is complicated. I’d have to win here and then internationally, which means beating everyone in my weight class. The point is, if I was doing it for money right now, I wouldn’t be driving a cab and taking jobs off my building’s super.”
The elevator stopped on the ninth floor, and we stepped out. He strode ahead of me, body still taught with tension now that the conversation was focused on him. It was a sign for me to stop asking questions, and to stop myself from saying out loud what was already going through my mind, but I couldn’t.
“Why do you put yourself through this? The two jobs and all your training . . .” We paused at my door, him facing away and me staring at the back of his neck. “I know we never talk about it, but why won’t you consider that job offer from my father? It’s been floating in the air for the past year, and you just pretend it doesn’t exist.”
Val tensed. “We’re not talking about that. I’m serious, Ashton.”
I bit my tongue as he used his own key to unlock my door.
“Okay, I’ve escorted you home safely. Now I’m leaving.”
I shoved him inside the apartment and kicked the door shut with the bottom of my boot. “Not allowed, sir.”
When Val finally faced me, I was relieved to see there were no storm clouds shadowing his brow. Just unease that had never been there before. “Is that so?”
“That’s definitely so. It’s five thirty in the morning, you look just terrible, and you’re probably going to fall asleep if you keep driving.” I put my hands on my hips and widened my eyes. “Stay here with me and I’ll tend to your wounds.”
He looked between me, the door, and then outside at a sky that was already showing subtle traces of daylight. It was clear he wanted to leave, but a yawn nearly cracked his jaw. Eyes watering, he asked grouchily, “Are you going to quit talking about my money situation?”
“For now.”
He rocked back on his heels, a muscle in his cheek ticking. I hated how reluctant he was to spend time with me, but internally cheered as he nodded in agreement.
“Fine. I don’t have to be up tomorrow morning, anyway.”
Val let me pull him across the hardwood floors of the living room and into my bedroom. There were clothes all over, and I’d left a lamp on and music playing. He didn’t argue when I shoved him down onto my messy bed. There were a million pillows and a mismatched sheet set, but everything was soft and smelled good. I was convinced it was the only reason he ever spent the night. Or at least, why he had before his mother passed away. After that, and the night we’d spent together, he’d kept careful distance from me. No more sleepovers. And he only came around if I seemed exceptionally pathetic. Like tonight.
With him compliant and stretched out, I went to find a first aid kit and shed my own clothes along the way. The sweaty dress that had absorbed a dozen spilled drinks, and the boots that stomped noisily around my quiet apartment. I located the tiny red-and-white box Val had forced me to buy when I’d first stocked the apartment, and brought it to the bedroom. His eyes were halfway closed.
“You really don’t have to do that,” he said. “I already cleaned up.”
“Yeah, but you’re bleeding again.” I straddled his legs and pointed to the various nicks on his face and torso. He tensed, putting his hands on my knees as if to shove me away, but didn’t. If me sitting on him in my underwear made him uncomfortable, he didn’t say it. He also didn’t move his hands. “How does that even happen?”
“Fuck if I know, Ash. I didn’t notice a lot of the damage until now.” A shadow crossed Val’s face, and he closed his eyes fully. “I guess I thought I’d evaded more than I actually did.”
“Hmph.” I swabbed, dabbed ointment, and applied tiny butterfly Band-Aids as Val idly stroked my knee. “So, why don’t you take a job at Townsend Telecom?”
“Ashton, can you stop?”
“It’s a good question. It’s not like he’s offering you a handout. It’s a job.”
“He’s never even said what kind of job. It’s just this vague position with a six-figure salary that would make me beholden to him for-fucking-ever. And as far as I’m concerned? It’s as good as a handout.”
“Val, that’s ridiculous. You have connections. Use them. Who cares what the position is for? He’ll probably create a position for you, and it sounds a hell of a lot better than you breaking your neck trying to live in this city while paying Hana’s tuition at Fordham. It’s outrageous.”
“It’s reality,” Val snapped. “Real people have to work for what they want. I know that’s not your life, but it’s ours.” I flinched, but he kept going. “I didn’t want Townsend money and neither did she.”
“I know you didn’t want it, but you grew up with us! No one argued when my father pitched the idea before he and my mother moved away. Everyone knows you’re practically part of the family. Even Dylan,” I said, trying not to cringe at my oldest brother’s name. After my earlier conversation with him, the one that had led to me going to the party in the Hamptons, the thought of him put me on edge. “So why shouldn’t you get the same perks as they di—”
“Ashton, I know you like to block it out of your mind every time I say it, but I hate your father. I still hate him now that he and your mom are living the good life in the Caribbean somewhere. If I took his magical job, I’d donate every dime of my salary to charity.”
I wanted to be shocked and angry, but I wasn’t. Just disappointed that he got nothing out of having been forced to be around my fucked-up family for most of his life, and that he still had to struggle because he hated the Townsend name so much that he wouldn’t allow himself to benefit from having been attached to us. Which was probably why he never accepted my birthday or Christmas presents.
This time when I bit my lip, it wasn’t for dramatic effect. It was to keep it from trembling.
Val’s eyes softened. “It has nothing to do with you, Ashton. You’re part of the reason why I despise him so much. The way he treated you.”
“I deserved it. I’m an embarrassment.”
He smacked my thigh hard. “Don’t start.”
“I can say what I want.”
“You’re right. You can. But it’s bullshit. Your father treated you like a brainless bimbo, or he ignored you while fawning over Dylan and Mackenzie. And that’s only half of the reason I can’t stand him.” Val pushed himself up on his forearms. “Him not bothering to show up to my mother’s funeral, after she spent twenty years taking care of his family, was the final straw. Or did you forget?”
“I didn’t forget.”
How could I? Val’s mother had also been more of a maternal figure to me than my own, who’d also considered me an embarrassment. It’d only been a year, and my chest still constricted at the memory of her kind face and warm eyes. Her death had crippled me, and I’d only pulled it together enough to try to comfort Val.
Although my way of comforting him on the night of her funeral had led to us not speaking for months. A shiver tore through me, and I backed away until my ass was on the bed instead of his thighs. “I get it, Val. You don’t have to explain.”
“Are you sure you get it? Because you have weird ideas about how family works. Like, for example, thinking either of your siblings seriously considered the nanny’s son to be part of their own.”
I looked down, hair curtaining my face. “I did.”
“I know.” Val grabbed my chin and tilted my face up. “That’s why I’m still here even though you drive me insane.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me. I’m just—” His fingers tightened as his brows knitted together. “I just wish I understood why you let people treat you like shit all the time. Why you pretend to be someone you’re not.”
“How do you know it’s make-believe? Maybe I like it.” I twisted away from him, and stared down at the piles of clothes strewn across the room. Most of it was black. “Maybe I like being held down and fucked by someone who doesn’t give a shit about me. Maybe I don’t care about being passed around when they’re done. Maybe I still think it’s all in good fun.”
“Yeah, and maybe you’re full of it,” Val said shortly. “I could tell you wanted to throw up every time that creep put his hands on you. Just because other people believe your Paris Hilton act doesn’t mean I ever will. I know every inch of you, Ashton. And I know you couldn’t wait to get in the car with me and drive away.”
“Paris Hilton was okay until she revealed her political views,” I muttered. “Next time compare me to Kim K.”
“Be serious, Ashton.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, digging my fingers into my skin.
“Why are you doing this to yourself?” When I didn’t answer, he scooted closer and slid his hand up to cradle the back of my head. I kept staring down at my clothes. “Help me understand. Please?”
“Why is it so important?”
“Because I hate being angry at you. And you letting people mistreat you drives me fucking nuts.”
“Is that why you’re still avoiding me? Because I keep thinking we’re over all that and then you go back to dodging my calls. I never know where we stand anymore.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the bleakness in my tone, or the defeated way I sagged in his grip, but after another of those long hesitations, Val pulled me to his chest and encircled me in his muscular arms. Nothing like the way Brett touched me. Or anyone else for that matter.
“I’m just . . . trying to figure some things out,” he said. “Tell me what’s going on with that joker at the Lego mansion.”
“Just leave it alone, Val.”
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll find out.”
Sighing, I pressed my face against his chest and let him guide me down to the bed. There was no point arguing with Val once he set his mind to something. Better to just enjoy feeling warm and protected by the circle of his arms, and go to sleep.
Maybe he’d forget this conversation in the morning.