Never Say Never, page 13
“So you’re like a private bank?”
“Something like that,” he says. “Look, all I want is to be able to live a quiet life, settle down, raise a family, and take care of the ones I love. Being an investor is going to allow me the freedom to do all that, to spend time with my wife and kids, to be the best husband and father I can be.”
I stare into his stormy eyes, the streetlamps reflecting against them in the dark. I want to find fault with him, but it’s damn near impossible. Everything about Cory is perfection.
He’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
But a part of me still wants Theo, and I hate myself for it.
“Can I get you some water?” Vic’s assistant sets a pitcher of water and two tumblers in front of me.
“Got anything stronger?” I say. I didn’t sleep at all. All night I tossed and turned, my mind running rampant with all the things I want to say to Mac, all the while a nagging voice on the inside telling me to take the high road.
He’s not worth it.
Say your part and walk away.
My fingers drum against the table as my eyes shift from the clock to the door. He couldn’t meet with me yesterday, but his attorney promised he’d be here at eight o’clock sharp to sign the papers and meet with me.
It’s definitely in Mac’s nature to keep me waiting. Everything has revolved around him since we were a couple of punk ass teenagers.
At precisely eight nineteen, the conference room door flings open and in walks the most pompous asshole I’ve ever known – Cormac Wellesley, Jr.
“Mac,” I spit his name.
“Theo.” His nose is pointed up and his shoulders are relaxed. He may as well be sitting down for a cup of coffee the way he’s acting. I remind myself his arrogance doesn’t allow him to be intimidated by anyone, ever. “Great seeing you. I’d ask what you’re up to these days, but I’m well aware.”
“How’s Amber?” I don’t ask because I care. I ask because I’ve never had the chance to confront him about that situation. It’s been five years, and I want my fucking closure.
He shrugs. His hand adjusts his thick glasses. He never used to wear glasses. Must be his latest thing. The man wore costumes like it was his job, reinventing himself to coincide with whoever he was seeing at the moment. It was an art form of the sociopathic variety. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“You’re not with her anymore?”
“Oh, fuck no, Theo.” He laughs as if I should’ve known. “Amber was…Amber. I just wanted a taste. I’m sorry you had to catch us like that.”
My hand clenches into a fist, sending veins popping up my arm.
“You weren’t supposed to know…” He rolls his eyes, laughing at his indiscretion as if it wasn’t a life-altering blip on other people’s timelines. “I’d been tapping that ass for a solid month.”
My vision is muddled by a dark, blood red.
If we weren’t in a public setting, I’d be in the process of rearranging his smug little face.
“You’re a goddamn piece of shit, Mac. You know that, right?”
“I don’t go by Mac anymore.”
I’m not fucking surprised. He changed his name about five different times when we were younger, even reinventing himself the fall we went off to college together. That’s when he became “Mac” – the womanizing, charismatic ladies’ man that drove girls crazy and scored him more pussy than Hugh Hefner.
I should’ve known then that Mac wasn’t right in the head.
“I don’t know why I’m giving you a single penny. I shouldn’t give you anything. You and I both know you didn’t have anything to do with Performance Vodka.”
His lips flatten and he rakes his fingers across the table until he grabs a silver pen. The stack of paperwork is sitting dead center between us.
“We talked about it,” he says.
“Yeah, when we were drunk. And it wasn’t even your idea. It was mine.”
“It’s funny how two people can remember the same event in such different ways.”
Right. Like the time Mac threw a party at his parents’ house and a bunch of his mother’s jewelry ended up missing. He pinned it on me, as if his whole intention in throwing a party was so he could frame me.
His parents stopped talking to me after they discovered all the jewelry hidden, planted rather, in my basement bedroom. I had to pick up two part-time jobs to pay for my last semester of college after Topper cut me off. It wasn’t until after Amber and Mac fucked that I started piecing everything together.
“Why?” My nostrils flare and I cross my arms across my chest to keep them from flying across the table and grabbing the starched white collar of his button down. “Why would you do all this to me?”
“Because,” he says, his lips pulling into a frown. “You stole from me first.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You stole the life I was supposed to have.”
My nose wrinkles and my chest puffs forward. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“The second you walked into our house, I became invisible.” His face morphs into a sickening scowl, as if he just took a shot of bitters. “You were taller than me, bigger, stronger, better looking. My dad treated you like a blood son, even writing you into his will until you stole from my family.”
“You and I both know I didn’t steal your mother’s jewelry.”
He lifts his hands in the air as if he’s not going to say another word on that matter.
“Theo.” He says my name as if he’s choking on dog shit. “You had everything I ever wanted, and my father loved you best. Shit, even my mother. And my sister. You stole my life. All I did was take it back.”
“Goddamn piece of work is what you are.” A smile slowly forms across my lips as I realize he’s inadvertently confessing. “Before I sign this, I want to hear you tell me you’re a fucking con man.”
“What? No,” he scoffs.
“Do you want your twelve mil?” Our eyes meet and fall to the white stack of papers between us. “All that’s standing in the way of you and this fat stack of cash are a few little words, Mac. Say it. Say you’re a con man.”
“I’m not saying that.”
I drag the papers across the table and lift them up, threatening to rip them. I’ll do it with my fucking teeth if it comes to that.
Mac rolls his eyes. He’s such a fucking tool, but I know he’s greedy, and he wants this money.
Correction: he needs this money.
The Wellesleys are officially penniless thanks to Topper’s greed and mishandlings.
“Fine.” Mac clears his throat and wrinkles his nose. “I’m a con man.”
He’s saying it to mock my request, but still. He said it.
He laughs, as if he’s just made a joke, though to anyone with half a foot in reality, he comes off as a psychopath. A crazy sparkle in his eye, the one I used to find charismatic and engaging, is now terrifying. He needs help.
“All right. Think I got all I need.” I pull the contract toward me and rip it in two.
Mac’s face falls, turning a sheet of pale white. “What did you just do?”
I pull out my phone and show him I’ve been recording the entire conversation. Vic doesn’t know, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
“You can’t do that!” Mac rakes his hand through his hair and rips his glasses off, popping up from his chair and coming at me. “That’s illegal! That’s fucking illegal. Theo, you manipulative piece of shit.”
“No, that would be you.”
“You can’t record me. That won’t hold up in a court of law.”
“What you’re doing to me, Mac, is extortion. I’m willing to take a slap on the wrist for illegally recording our conversation if it means you won’t see a single penny of this twelve million.”
“I’ll take you to fucking court,” Mac spits.
“Please do.” He has no way to pay for a good attorney, and no one’s going to want to take his case. Defending extortion cases isn’t exactly a walk in the park, even for the best attorneys.
“I’ll let you walk out of here quietly, and I won’t share this recording with anyone if you promise to leave me the fuck alone,” I seethe. “Stay out of my life. Stay away from me. Crawl back to your fucking cave and don’t ever let me see your face again.”
I’ve never seen Mac so upset before. He’s a professional at putting on a good face, keeping his cards close, and never letting anyone see him as anything other than perfection.
I would almost pay money to see him in this state.
Good thing I don’t have to.
“Get the fuck out of here, Mac.”
I think I’ve gotten in the last word, and I’m shamelessly smug about it until he turns to me in the doorway and opens his thin lips to take one last dig.
“That’s fine, Theo. Take your fucking bullshit millions and live your perfect little bullshit life,” he says. “But the girl is mine.”
“The girl?”
“Skylar. She’s mine. Not yours. There’s no way in hell she’ll pick you over me.”
I’m typing up a listing blurb when my desk phone rings. “Skylar Presley, how may I help you?”
“Skylar.” It’s Theo, and he breathes my name like it’s a sigh of relief. “You answered.”
“Yeah, I’m working…it’s nine o’clock on a weekday. Won’t find me anywhere else,” I chuckle. “What’s up?”
“I have to see you. Now.”
I shake my head as my lips curl at the corners. He’s doing it again. “You know I can’t. I’m working. I can’t keep sneaking away during the day every time you want me to.”
“It’s urgent.”
I glance at my computer clock. “I have a client coming in in a half hour to nail down some listings. Everything okay?”
“No,” he breathes.
“God, Theo, you’re scaring the shit out of me.”
“What are you doing for lunch? Can I steal you away for an hour then?”
He’s trying hard, and I kind of like it. “I’m meeting someone for lunch today.”
“Him?”
“Him?” I play coy. I hate talking about Cory with Theo. I’m not dating Theo, and I’m not exclusive with Cory, but I find it to be in poor taste.
“What’s his name, Skylar?”
“Why?”
“Is it Cormac Wellesley?”
I bite my tongue. How does he know? “You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend, and I don’t like it.”
“I’m not your boyfriend, and I’m not pretending to be,” he growls. “Answer me. The guy you’ve been seeing, is it Cormac Wellesley?”
“Why, you know him?”
Theo breathes into the phone. “Fuck.”
“He goes by Cory, but yes, that’s the man I’ve been talking to.”
“He’s the most evil human being on the face of this planet, Skylar. I will not allow you to see him.”
“Allow?” I scoff. “What are you, my dad?”
Theo’s acting like a crazy person, and I’m two seconds from hanging up on him.
“Cory’s one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met,” I defend him. It’s the truth. “He’s been nothing but a gentleman since our first date. He hasn’t even kissed me yet, not that I’d let him, but still. He’s good to me, Theo. And let me remind you that you and I are not together.”
“He’s a fucking con man, Skylar.” His words land with a sick thud in my chest. I’ve been conned before, duped into believing I’d scored real life Prince Charmings when in fact they were nothing but wart-covered toads in disguise. “I’ll spend my last dying breath convincing you to stay away from him if that’s what it takes.”
“I don’t even recognize you right now.”
“Cory – Cormac, whatever he goes by, it’s all an act, Skylar. Listen to me.”
“Skylar, your clients are here.” My assistant stands in my doorway.
“I have to let you go, Theo. I’m sorry. We’ll talk more later.”
“Don’t meet him for lunch.”
I hang up and head out to the lobby to greet my next clients, a retired couple looking to sell their Brooklyn brownstone and move to the country, but my mind is weighed down by Theo’s words.
***
“Hey beautiful.” I meet Cory outside a nearby pub for lunch, ignoring the strange sensation swirling around the pit of me. I’m not ignoring Theo’s warning, but I need to see for myself.
“Hi,” I say to Cory, leaning in for a hug. He is all fabric softener and plaid shirts and peppery cologne, and his smile is hypnotic in the usual way. I don’t want to believe he’s capable of being anything other than the person he claims to be. “Everything go okay this morning?”
The space below his cheekbone hollows for a second, and he nods. “Mm-hm.”
My heart palpates hard in my chest, and I rack my brain in an attempt to find any kind of slip up, any kind of hint Cory isn’t who I think he is. I come up empty handed, but I refuse to let it go. Theo’s words are echoing loud enough in my mind that I can’t hear my own thoughts.
“Say, I’m not that hungry.” I lower my voice to a whisper and trail a finger along my collarbone and then between my breasts. “My apartment’s up the street…want to go?”
I wink as my mouth lifts in one corner.
The corner of his mouth rises as he slides his hand into mine and guides me in the direction of my place. And then his hand squeezes mine as if he owns me. He looks back, and the exotic gray gaze that had once made me feel safe now scares me. He’s not the Cory that’s been whispering sweet promises, sending me flowers, bringing me dinner.
We round the corner to my building, my heart pounding. My eyes well up at the fact that he’s taken the bait. I wanted to be wrong about him.
Cory pulls me into the foyer of my building, his hands hooking my hips as he presses me against the wall by the mailboxes. His mouth takes mine without so much as asking, and I know he’d take the rest of me right then and there if I wasn’t about to stop him.
“Cory,” I say, twisting my mouth away from his. There’s nothing sweet about the way his hands grip the flesh around my waist, and there’s nothing endearing in the way his hungry stare refuses to let me go. “What-”
“You wanted this,” he growls. “God, Skylar, you’ve been such a tease since the day I met you. Loosen up. You invited me here, remember?”
I slink out of his grip and step aside. “Who are you, Cory?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re not who you say you are.” I could still taste him on my tongue, and it makes my stomach churn. “Everything about you has been an act.”
He tilts his head once, pressing his mouth into a straight line, and his eyes seem to be agreeing with me.
“Why?” My question comes in the form of a bark. I want to slap his fake expression clean off his perfectly average face.
“There are certain things you wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
Cory says nothing.
“Did you ever like me, Cory? Or was it all an act?” I inch backward from him, my back still pressed against the wall. I know the answer, but I want to hear him confess. “Why?”
“Because Theo Van Cleef doesn’t deserve you.”
“And you do?”
“Probably not.”
At least he’s being honest.
“Then why do you care?” I’m trying to understand, but I may as well be studying stereo instructions written in Korean. “And how do you know Theo?!”
“I told you, you wouldn’t understand.”
“How do you know him?” My voice is so shrill I hardly recognize it. I’ve been a pawn in his sick, twisted game this entire time. And here I thought I’d be safer with Cory.
My fingers ball into a fist, my nails digging into the flesh of my palm. It takes all the strength I have not to inflict some sort of physical pain. I pull in a deep breath and force myself to take the high road. “You’re a fraud, Cory. And you’re pathetic.”
“Where you going?” Cory calls after me as I spin on my heel and get the hell out of the foyer. I can’t get out of there fast enough.
I don’t answer him. He doesn’t deserve to know. He doesn’t deserve another ounce of my time.
I have to find Theo.
“Where have you been?” Skylar is leaning against my hotel door, her arms crossed beneath her chest.
“How long have you been here?”
“About an hour. Your phone was off.”
“I took a walk.”
“All day?”
“Yes.” I swipe my keycard and follow her inside.
“You were right,” she says, and in that moment I hate him for manipulating her. He transformed himself, the way he always does, into the guy he knew she wanted him to be. Skylar falls into an armchair and drapes her long hair over the side, her gaze falling toward the carpet. “I walked all over the city all afternoon, but I kept coming back here. Hoping I’d run into you. I wanted to say you were right.”
“I only wanted to protect you from him,” I say. I unbuckle my belt and slide it off, tossing it aside. “From that monster.”
My jacket falls down my shoulders and I hang it on an empty dry cleaning hanger in the wardrobe. I’m still trying to figure out how Mac knew about Skylar and me. It wasn’t a coincidence. It never is with him.
“I have to tell you something,” she says with a swallow. Her eyes widen and lift until they meet mine. She sits up and clears her throat. “But first, I want to know you’re real.”
“Skylar, of course I’m real.”
“No,” she says. “I want to know that underneath your expensive jeans and A-list haircuts, you’re just a regular person. Like me.”
“You’re anything but regular, Skylar, and I mean that in the best way.”
She rises from the armchair and glides across the room to where I’m perched on the bed, dipping down next to me. “Tell me your secrets, and I’ll tell you mine.”
“I don’t have secrets.” Her stare crushes me, and I feel the need to produce something if only for her sake. “There are things I don’t talk about much, but they’re not secrets.”
“Something like that,” he says. “Look, all I want is to be able to live a quiet life, settle down, raise a family, and take care of the ones I love. Being an investor is going to allow me the freedom to do all that, to spend time with my wife and kids, to be the best husband and father I can be.”
I stare into his stormy eyes, the streetlamps reflecting against them in the dark. I want to find fault with him, but it’s damn near impossible. Everything about Cory is perfection.
He’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
But a part of me still wants Theo, and I hate myself for it.
“Can I get you some water?” Vic’s assistant sets a pitcher of water and two tumblers in front of me.
“Got anything stronger?” I say. I didn’t sleep at all. All night I tossed and turned, my mind running rampant with all the things I want to say to Mac, all the while a nagging voice on the inside telling me to take the high road.
He’s not worth it.
Say your part and walk away.
My fingers drum against the table as my eyes shift from the clock to the door. He couldn’t meet with me yesterday, but his attorney promised he’d be here at eight o’clock sharp to sign the papers and meet with me.
It’s definitely in Mac’s nature to keep me waiting. Everything has revolved around him since we were a couple of punk ass teenagers.
At precisely eight nineteen, the conference room door flings open and in walks the most pompous asshole I’ve ever known – Cormac Wellesley, Jr.
“Mac,” I spit his name.
“Theo.” His nose is pointed up and his shoulders are relaxed. He may as well be sitting down for a cup of coffee the way he’s acting. I remind myself his arrogance doesn’t allow him to be intimidated by anyone, ever. “Great seeing you. I’d ask what you’re up to these days, but I’m well aware.”
“How’s Amber?” I don’t ask because I care. I ask because I’ve never had the chance to confront him about that situation. It’s been five years, and I want my fucking closure.
He shrugs. His hand adjusts his thick glasses. He never used to wear glasses. Must be his latest thing. The man wore costumes like it was his job, reinventing himself to coincide with whoever he was seeing at the moment. It was an art form of the sociopathic variety. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“You’re not with her anymore?”
“Oh, fuck no, Theo.” He laughs as if I should’ve known. “Amber was…Amber. I just wanted a taste. I’m sorry you had to catch us like that.”
My hand clenches into a fist, sending veins popping up my arm.
“You weren’t supposed to know…” He rolls his eyes, laughing at his indiscretion as if it wasn’t a life-altering blip on other people’s timelines. “I’d been tapping that ass for a solid month.”
My vision is muddled by a dark, blood red.
If we weren’t in a public setting, I’d be in the process of rearranging his smug little face.
“You’re a goddamn piece of shit, Mac. You know that, right?”
“I don’t go by Mac anymore.”
I’m not fucking surprised. He changed his name about five different times when we were younger, even reinventing himself the fall we went off to college together. That’s when he became “Mac” – the womanizing, charismatic ladies’ man that drove girls crazy and scored him more pussy than Hugh Hefner.
I should’ve known then that Mac wasn’t right in the head.
“I don’t know why I’m giving you a single penny. I shouldn’t give you anything. You and I both know you didn’t have anything to do with Performance Vodka.”
His lips flatten and he rakes his fingers across the table until he grabs a silver pen. The stack of paperwork is sitting dead center between us.
“We talked about it,” he says.
“Yeah, when we were drunk. And it wasn’t even your idea. It was mine.”
“It’s funny how two people can remember the same event in such different ways.”
Right. Like the time Mac threw a party at his parents’ house and a bunch of his mother’s jewelry ended up missing. He pinned it on me, as if his whole intention in throwing a party was so he could frame me.
His parents stopped talking to me after they discovered all the jewelry hidden, planted rather, in my basement bedroom. I had to pick up two part-time jobs to pay for my last semester of college after Topper cut me off. It wasn’t until after Amber and Mac fucked that I started piecing everything together.
“Why?” My nostrils flare and I cross my arms across my chest to keep them from flying across the table and grabbing the starched white collar of his button down. “Why would you do all this to me?”
“Because,” he says, his lips pulling into a frown. “You stole from me first.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You stole the life I was supposed to have.”
My nose wrinkles and my chest puffs forward. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“The second you walked into our house, I became invisible.” His face morphs into a sickening scowl, as if he just took a shot of bitters. “You were taller than me, bigger, stronger, better looking. My dad treated you like a blood son, even writing you into his will until you stole from my family.”
“You and I both know I didn’t steal your mother’s jewelry.”
He lifts his hands in the air as if he’s not going to say another word on that matter.
“Theo.” He says my name as if he’s choking on dog shit. “You had everything I ever wanted, and my father loved you best. Shit, even my mother. And my sister. You stole my life. All I did was take it back.”
“Goddamn piece of work is what you are.” A smile slowly forms across my lips as I realize he’s inadvertently confessing. “Before I sign this, I want to hear you tell me you’re a fucking con man.”
“What? No,” he scoffs.
“Do you want your twelve mil?” Our eyes meet and fall to the white stack of papers between us. “All that’s standing in the way of you and this fat stack of cash are a few little words, Mac. Say it. Say you’re a con man.”
“I’m not saying that.”
I drag the papers across the table and lift them up, threatening to rip them. I’ll do it with my fucking teeth if it comes to that.
Mac rolls his eyes. He’s such a fucking tool, but I know he’s greedy, and he wants this money.
Correction: he needs this money.
The Wellesleys are officially penniless thanks to Topper’s greed and mishandlings.
“Fine.” Mac clears his throat and wrinkles his nose. “I’m a con man.”
He’s saying it to mock my request, but still. He said it.
He laughs, as if he’s just made a joke, though to anyone with half a foot in reality, he comes off as a psychopath. A crazy sparkle in his eye, the one I used to find charismatic and engaging, is now terrifying. He needs help.
“All right. Think I got all I need.” I pull the contract toward me and rip it in two.
Mac’s face falls, turning a sheet of pale white. “What did you just do?”
I pull out my phone and show him I’ve been recording the entire conversation. Vic doesn’t know, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
“You can’t do that!” Mac rakes his hand through his hair and rips his glasses off, popping up from his chair and coming at me. “That’s illegal! That’s fucking illegal. Theo, you manipulative piece of shit.”
“No, that would be you.”
“You can’t record me. That won’t hold up in a court of law.”
“What you’re doing to me, Mac, is extortion. I’m willing to take a slap on the wrist for illegally recording our conversation if it means you won’t see a single penny of this twelve million.”
“I’ll take you to fucking court,” Mac spits.
“Please do.” He has no way to pay for a good attorney, and no one’s going to want to take his case. Defending extortion cases isn’t exactly a walk in the park, even for the best attorneys.
“I’ll let you walk out of here quietly, and I won’t share this recording with anyone if you promise to leave me the fuck alone,” I seethe. “Stay out of my life. Stay away from me. Crawl back to your fucking cave and don’t ever let me see your face again.”
I’ve never seen Mac so upset before. He’s a professional at putting on a good face, keeping his cards close, and never letting anyone see him as anything other than perfection.
I would almost pay money to see him in this state.
Good thing I don’t have to.
“Get the fuck out of here, Mac.”
I think I’ve gotten in the last word, and I’m shamelessly smug about it until he turns to me in the doorway and opens his thin lips to take one last dig.
“That’s fine, Theo. Take your fucking bullshit millions and live your perfect little bullshit life,” he says. “But the girl is mine.”
“The girl?”
“Skylar. She’s mine. Not yours. There’s no way in hell she’ll pick you over me.”
I’m typing up a listing blurb when my desk phone rings. “Skylar Presley, how may I help you?”
“Skylar.” It’s Theo, and he breathes my name like it’s a sigh of relief. “You answered.”
“Yeah, I’m working…it’s nine o’clock on a weekday. Won’t find me anywhere else,” I chuckle. “What’s up?”
“I have to see you. Now.”
I shake my head as my lips curl at the corners. He’s doing it again. “You know I can’t. I’m working. I can’t keep sneaking away during the day every time you want me to.”
“It’s urgent.”
I glance at my computer clock. “I have a client coming in in a half hour to nail down some listings. Everything okay?”
“No,” he breathes.
“God, Theo, you’re scaring the shit out of me.”
“What are you doing for lunch? Can I steal you away for an hour then?”
He’s trying hard, and I kind of like it. “I’m meeting someone for lunch today.”
“Him?”
“Him?” I play coy. I hate talking about Cory with Theo. I’m not dating Theo, and I’m not exclusive with Cory, but I find it to be in poor taste.
“What’s his name, Skylar?”
“Why?”
“Is it Cormac Wellesley?”
I bite my tongue. How does he know? “You’re acting like a jealous boyfriend, and I don’t like it.”
“I’m not your boyfriend, and I’m not pretending to be,” he growls. “Answer me. The guy you’ve been seeing, is it Cormac Wellesley?”
“Why, you know him?”
Theo breathes into the phone. “Fuck.”
“He goes by Cory, but yes, that’s the man I’ve been talking to.”
“He’s the most evil human being on the face of this planet, Skylar. I will not allow you to see him.”
“Allow?” I scoff. “What are you, my dad?”
Theo’s acting like a crazy person, and I’m two seconds from hanging up on him.
“Cory’s one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met,” I defend him. It’s the truth. “He’s been nothing but a gentleman since our first date. He hasn’t even kissed me yet, not that I’d let him, but still. He’s good to me, Theo. And let me remind you that you and I are not together.”
“He’s a fucking con man, Skylar.” His words land with a sick thud in my chest. I’ve been conned before, duped into believing I’d scored real life Prince Charmings when in fact they were nothing but wart-covered toads in disguise. “I’ll spend my last dying breath convincing you to stay away from him if that’s what it takes.”
“I don’t even recognize you right now.”
“Cory – Cormac, whatever he goes by, it’s all an act, Skylar. Listen to me.”
“Skylar, your clients are here.” My assistant stands in my doorway.
“I have to let you go, Theo. I’m sorry. We’ll talk more later.”
“Don’t meet him for lunch.”
I hang up and head out to the lobby to greet my next clients, a retired couple looking to sell their Brooklyn brownstone and move to the country, but my mind is weighed down by Theo’s words.
***
“Hey beautiful.” I meet Cory outside a nearby pub for lunch, ignoring the strange sensation swirling around the pit of me. I’m not ignoring Theo’s warning, but I need to see for myself.
“Hi,” I say to Cory, leaning in for a hug. He is all fabric softener and plaid shirts and peppery cologne, and his smile is hypnotic in the usual way. I don’t want to believe he’s capable of being anything other than the person he claims to be. “Everything go okay this morning?”
The space below his cheekbone hollows for a second, and he nods. “Mm-hm.”
My heart palpates hard in my chest, and I rack my brain in an attempt to find any kind of slip up, any kind of hint Cory isn’t who I think he is. I come up empty handed, but I refuse to let it go. Theo’s words are echoing loud enough in my mind that I can’t hear my own thoughts.
“Say, I’m not that hungry.” I lower my voice to a whisper and trail a finger along my collarbone and then between my breasts. “My apartment’s up the street…want to go?”
I wink as my mouth lifts in one corner.
The corner of his mouth rises as he slides his hand into mine and guides me in the direction of my place. And then his hand squeezes mine as if he owns me. He looks back, and the exotic gray gaze that had once made me feel safe now scares me. He’s not the Cory that’s been whispering sweet promises, sending me flowers, bringing me dinner.
We round the corner to my building, my heart pounding. My eyes well up at the fact that he’s taken the bait. I wanted to be wrong about him.
Cory pulls me into the foyer of my building, his hands hooking my hips as he presses me against the wall by the mailboxes. His mouth takes mine without so much as asking, and I know he’d take the rest of me right then and there if I wasn’t about to stop him.
“Cory,” I say, twisting my mouth away from his. There’s nothing sweet about the way his hands grip the flesh around my waist, and there’s nothing endearing in the way his hungry stare refuses to let me go. “What-”
“You wanted this,” he growls. “God, Skylar, you’ve been such a tease since the day I met you. Loosen up. You invited me here, remember?”
I slink out of his grip and step aside. “Who are you, Cory?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re not who you say you are.” I could still taste him on my tongue, and it makes my stomach churn. “Everything about you has been an act.”
He tilts his head once, pressing his mouth into a straight line, and his eyes seem to be agreeing with me.
“Why?” My question comes in the form of a bark. I want to slap his fake expression clean off his perfectly average face.
“There are certain things you wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
Cory says nothing.
“Did you ever like me, Cory? Or was it all an act?” I inch backward from him, my back still pressed against the wall. I know the answer, but I want to hear him confess. “Why?”
“Because Theo Van Cleef doesn’t deserve you.”
“And you do?”
“Probably not.”
At least he’s being honest.
“Then why do you care?” I’m trying to understand, but I may as well be studying stereo instructions written in Korean. “And how do you know Theo?!”
“I told you, you wouldn’t understand.”
“How do you know him?” My voice is so shrill I hardly recognize it. I’ve been a pawn in his sick, twisted game this entire time. And here I thought I’d be safer with Cory.
My fingers ball into a fist, my nails digging into the flesh of my palm. It takes all the strength I have not to inflict some sort of physical pain. I pull in a deep breath and force myself to take the high road. “You’re a fraud, Cory. And you’re pathetic.”
“Where you going?” Cory calls after me as I spin on my heel and get the hell out of the foyer. I can’t get out of there fast enough.
I don’t answer him. He doesn’t deserve to know. He doesn’t deserve another ounce of my time.
I have to find Theo.
“Where have you been?” Skylar is leaning against my hotel door, her arms crossed beneath her chest.
“How long have you been here?”
“About an hour. Your phone was off.”
“I took a walk.”
“All day?”
“Yes.” I swipe my keycard and follow her inside.
“You were right,” she says, and in that moment I hate him for manipulating her. He transformed himself, the way he always does, into the guy he knew she wanted him to be. Skylar falls into an armchair and drapes her long hair over the side, her gaze falling toward the carpet. “I walked all over the city all afternoon, but I kept coming back here. Hoping I’d run into you. I wanted to say you were right.”
“I only wanted to protect you from him,” I say. I unbuckle my belt and slide it off, tossing it aside. “From that monster.”
My jacket falls down my shoulders and I hang it on an empty dry cleaning hanger in the wardrobe. I’m still trying to figure out how Mac knew about Skylar and me. It wasn’t a coincidence. It never is with him.
“I have to tell you something,” she says with a swallow. Her eyes widen and lift until they meet mine. She sits up and clears her throat. “But first, I want to know you’re real.”
“Skylar, of course I’m real.”
“No,” she says. “I want to know that underneath your expensive jeans and A-list haircuts, you’re just a regular person. Like me.”
“You’re anything but regular, Skylar, and I mean that in the best way.”
She rises from the armchair and glides across the room to where I’m perched on the bed, dipping down next to me. “Tell me your secrets, and I’ll tell you mine.”
“I don’t have secrets.” Her stare crushes me, and I feel the need to produce something if only for her sake. “There are things I don’t talk about much, but they’re not secrets.”
