Throb by Vi Keeland
“Maybe. But I’d be able to wrap my arm around your waist and pull you close to me when I’m near you and see you sharing that smile with another man. I wouldn’t have to walk away like you didn’t belong to me.”
“I’m sorry.” And we’re back to where we started. I have no idea how to make him feel better. “I really only think of him as a friend.”
“That’s not how he thinks of you.”
How do I argue with what I suspect to be the truth? “I’m sorry.” I’m starting to sound like a broken record.
“I can’t wait until this is over.”
“Soon.”
“There’ll be no mistaking who you belong to when this charade is over,” he says with an edge to his voice that wakens my libido.
“I look forward to it,” I say while sporting the first smile I’ve felt since this afternoon.
“Stay with me tomorrow night. I’ll be at a work event until late. But I want you in my bed when I get home.”
“Okay. But Miles added another event shoot to the schedule and we’re going to some awards ceremony tomorrow night. So I might be late.”
“What awards ceremony?”
“The Film Critics Awards Banquet.”
“Great. More watching Dickhead paw you and not being able to do anything about it.”
“You promised not to watch the dailies anymore.”
“I won’t have to watch the dailies. Miles’s table is next to mine.”
Miles catches my eyes as they linger on the empty seat at the next table for what must be the tenth time in the last hour. He forces a smile and I watch his eyes dart to the table I’m fixated on and back to me. No doubt he thinks I’m star struck looking at Tatiana Laroix or Benjamin Parker. I’m pretty sure the whole place is staring at one of the two of them.
There’s no denying that Tatiana Laroix is a beautiful woman. But tonight she’s beyond stunning—men and women both can’t stop staring. Her hair is done in that Roaring Twenties-era finger wave that is feminine and dramatic, yet somehow still appears slightly understated. The exact opposite of her dress. The daring cleavage-baring nude gown is cut to her navel, leaving the men in the room fixated on the effectiveness of double-sided tape. Knowing the empty seat is where Cooper will eventually sit, I find myself jealous even though he hasn’t stepped foot in the room yet.
Benjamin Parker costarred along side Tatiana in Perfect Sense, the upcoming film produced by Montgomery Productions. He’s young, handsome and has a penchant for jogging all over LA shirtless. The media eats up his every step. I’ve stolen glances at the interaction between the two, secretly wishing I’d find sexual tension. But all I’ve caught is Tatiana scanning the door and watching her watch.
I don’t need to turn around to know the moment Cooper walks into the room. I’d like to say it’s because I feel it in my heart, in my bones, a whisper touch alerting my skin to his arrival. But that’s not why at all. It’s the way Tatiana changes—her face lights up, eyes sparkle with devilish lust and the thrust of her already obvious overflowing breasts strain forward to show off even more. He’s not even near her yet and I’m spoon-fed a taste of the medicine Cooper was forced to swallow yesterday. Tonight is going to suck.
Cooper makes his rounds at the table, eventually coming to the only empty seat, next to Tatiana, just as the lights begin to flash, signaling the show is about to start. He never looks my way.
Twenty minutes later the cast from the show is ushered backstage to prepare for announcing the category we’re assigned. After seeing the size of the room and all of the famous faces, my nerves kick in on high. I’m grateful they picked Jessica and Flynn for the scripted banter and all I need to do is stand there and not pass out. Although right now I’m feeling even that may be a challenge.
“You okay?” Flynn sees my face and his turns concerned.
“I’m a little nervous. Can you tell?”
“Not really.” He grins, letting me know he’s lying.
I take a deep breath. “How do you do this all the time? Get up in front of a crowd and sing?”
He shrugs. “You get used to it.”
“Were you nervous when you first started?”
“Yep.” He smiles like he’s thinking back to a fond memory.
“What did you do to calm yourself?”
“Got shitfaced.”
“How’d that go?”
“I fell off the stage and had to get seven stitches in my head.”
“Think I’ll try some deep cleansing breaths instead.” I smile. “I just hope I don’t trip.”
The host announces our names over the loudspeaker, and a frantic woman with not one, but two headsets on barks orders into a walkie-talkie and shouts stage directions at us, and then we’re on. In the moment, I’m thankful that Flynn grabs my hand and walks me on stage, because my legs are wobbly with fear.
Jessica and Flynn ham it up for the cameras and, luckily, our five minutes of fame is over in less than three.
“You did great.”
“I stood there.”
“You didn’t fall.”
“Because you held my hand.”
“You’re cute when you’re nervous.” Flynn kisses my nose and flashes his dimples. Twenty minutes later we’re escorted back to our seats during an intermission.
People are up and mingling, Cooper is talking to the director right behind my seat.
“Hey,” Flynn says with a friendly smile and extends his hand toward Cooper. “Flynn Beckham. We met at the …”
“I remember.” Cooper dismisses him and turns to me.
“Kate.” He nods and tosses back the contents of his short glass in one large gulp.
“Cooper.” I follow his lead, mimicking his distant greeting.
Tatiana slinks up beside Cooper and hooks her arms through his. “Hey, lovebirds. How’s the show going?”
Flynn casually wraps his arm around my waist and smiles. “Can’t tell you any secrets.” He looks at me, then back to Tatiana and winks. “But it’s going great.”
If eyes could shoot daggers, poor Flynn would look like Swiss cheese. Cooper’s piercing glare complements the angry flex in jaw.
“I need another drink, Cooper,” Tatiana whines with a faux pout.
“Maybe you should slow down,” he responds without looking at her.
“Another drink might lower my inhibitions,” she says in a voice aimed at being seductive. To my ears it’s like nails scraping on a blackboard.
“You should take it easy,” he warns.
“But I thought you liked it hard.”
“Excuse me, Flynn. I need to use the ladies’ room.” I storm off without looking at Cooper or waiting for a response.
“Not so fast,” Cooper warns in a low raspy voice as he grabs my elbow, steering me in the opposite direction of the bathroom.
“Don’t, Cooper,” I shoot back. But I should know better than to bother to protest. He’s not a man easily deterred.
“Leave.” He approaches a uniformed young man standing at the coat closet. The man’s brows knit, but he quickly catches on when Cooper reaches into his pocket, pulls out a wad of cash, and stuffs half of it into the man’s hand. “Fifteen minutes. I don’t care if the place is on fire. The door doesn’t open.”
The man nods.
Cooper locks the door behind us.
“This isn’t a good idea, Cooper.” I finally look up and take the whole man in. Tension radiates off of him.
“There’s nobody but you, Kate.” He takes a step closer. His eyes watch me, study me, pin me in place. “Whatever happened with her was in the past. Everything is in my past now. Can you say the same?”
“I’m sorry.” My words trail off. “It’s just hard … watching her try to seduce you.”
“How do you think I feel? He held your hand on stage. I couldn’t even watch. It fucking kills me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We can end this right now. My offer is still good. In fact, nothing would ma
“I can’t, Cooper. I just can’t. I wish it was that easy.”
“You make it harder than it needs to be.”
“I need to take care of my own family. It’s a lot of money and it’s my responsibility.”
“I don’t care about the money. I need to take care of you.”
My eyes close. It would be so much easier to give in. Not worry about the house, Kyle’s therapy, leading Flynn on. “I’m sorry.” I hold back the tears, but my voice cracks.
Cooper’s hands reach up and cup my face, his thumb runs along my bottom lip. “I want to be the one holding your hand in public. I want to be the one to wrap my arm around your waist when another man comes near.” His lips brush against mine.
“We shouldn’t …” I weakly attempt to protest. Undone by the possessive rawness of his strained words, I stop trying to push him away and join him, chasing something we both need in the moment more than the air that we breathe.
“You feeling better?” Flynn asks when I return to my seat. “You got some color in your cheeks back.”
“Ummm … yes. Thank you.” I’m grateful it’s dark because my color has just deepened to a lovely shame of crimson.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Cooper return to his seat. I had to make him promise to wait five minutes before coming back, I wouldn’t have put it past him to follow right behind me, zipper intentionally open. As if she’s a magnet and he’s metal, Tatiana leans toward him the moment he sits.
I force my eyes away from his table and let them drift over the crowd. When they fall upon the man sitting directly across from me, I’m startled at what I find. Miles is seething, nostrils flaring, his unblinking eyes fixed on me in an angry stare.
chapter thirty-three
Cooper
Daylight has barely dawned as I make my way to the office. Leaving Kate lying in my bed, her hair splayed across a pillow and naked body beneath the sheets, was virtually impossible to do. But I’m meeting with my lawyers at seven to go over the terms of the union negotiation before I sit at the table and shake hands on the final deal.
My face is speckled with day-old stubble I had every intention of shaving until I walked into the bedroom and caught a glimpse of her bare ass peeking out. The decision to use the little time I had for other things was an easy one, especially when she mentioned she liked my five o’clock shadow right before I sunk into her.
I find myself thinking about what it would be like to wake up to her beside me everyday. To fall asleep to the sound of her light breaths and vision of her sweet mouth twitching up at the sides as she escapes into dreamland. The realization hits me when I least expect it: I’m in love with Kate Monroe.
The office is empty this early in the morning. I grab coffee, dig out my notes, and start to head to the conference room. Miles’s appearance in my doorway surprises me. “I don’t have time. I have a meeting with my attorneys in five minutes.”
“Make time,” he says with an angry bite.
“Not now, Miles,” I warn.
He ignores me and sits on the couch.
I blow out a frustrated breath, prepared to leave him in my office. Whatever he wants can wait. “What do you need?”
“I need you to keep away from Kate,” he says with an icy tone and a glare to match.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me right.”
I stare at him. There’s an eerie flatness to his voice, cold and loathsome. I freeze.
A slow smile spreads across his face. “I finally have your attention.”
“What game are we playing, Miles?”
He taps his fingers on a jewel case and then looks up to me. “You can have any woman in the world you want. Women fucking throw themselves at you.”
I stay quiet. He needs to show his hand before one of us raises the stakes.
“I let you have your fun. Fucking strolling though Barbados without a care in the world. Without a concern for me. But last night …” His fists ball at his sides. “Fucking that whore in a coat closet.”
Impetuously, I grab him by his shirt with two hands. “Don’t fucking call her that.”
“You’re ruining my show!” he growls in my face.
“It’s a stupid fucking show. She’s playing along for the camera. It’s not ruining anything.”
“You’re a selfish asshole. Dad’s not here anymore. Yet you still need to prove you’re better than me every day … purposely sabotaging my show just to prove something to a dead man.”
“You’re delusional. I’m not sabotaging anything.”
“Ratings are flat. People are tired of watching America’s Sweetheart refute Flynn’s advances. They want to see the action, need to believe she sucks his dick behind closed doors.”
“Shut your fucking mouth,” I spit, tightening my grip. My veins pulse with seething rage.
“Break it off.”
“Screw you.”
“My show is going to get ratings, one way or the other. We can do it the easy way or the hard way. You decide.” Miles breaks free from my grip and heads toward the door. He stops and tosses an envelope and DVD on the couch. “I don’t suspect the video of you two fucking outside of the guest house will sway you. You’re so goddamn full of yourself, you’d probably secretly like seeing your big dick flashed on every news network.” He pauses. “I knew something was going on when Damian told me you came to him for an investigation on Kate. Did you really think he wouldn’t play us against each other for a bigger payout?”
He takes a few steps and grips the doorway, turning back to drive his final stake into my heart. “I have my life invested in this show. Now you will too,” he seethes. “She lied on her character affidavit to get her brother into that clinical trial he’s in. One anonymously sent document and he’ll be out. And I’m sure the medical licensing board will frown on giving sworn testimony to fraudulently obtain medicine. Maybe they’ll let her practice physical therapy in Mexico someday.” He pauses. “You have until we leave tomorrow to decide how it plays out.” Miles walks out without looking back.
My phone buzzes on my desk again. Everything okay? It’s the third text she’s sent today that I haven’t responded to. I fail at my attempt to sidestep the mess of papers strewn all over the floor as I stagger to the bottle for yet another refill. My unsteady hand spills the amber liquid on the table, the floor … everywhere but in my glass. Frustrated, I knock over all the glasses with one angry sweep of my arm. The sound of glass breaking sends Helen running in.
She looks around at the mess I’ve spent all day making, but says nothing.
“Go home, Helen,” I mumble, slurring my words.
“I … I don’t want to leave you like this.”
“Go home!” I yell angrily and she jumps.
“Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to call Miles?”
Maniacal laughter emerges from my chest. With all the crystal tumblers broken, I grab an unopened bottle and stumble back to my desk. “My little brother has done quite enough for the day. Go home, Helen,” I say, the sadness in my angry voice poking through.
She nods and disappears.
I squint to clear my vision through my drunken haze. I wish I had some glimmer of hope that the documents were fake, but Miles’s face was all the verification I needed. I reread the Emergency Room report for the hundredth time.
Diagnosis—Alcohol-induced poisoning. Positive for marijuana consumption.
And then …
Patient brought in by—Sister, Kate Monroe.
Neither one of them could have known what the ramifications for taking a typical teenage partying junket a little too far would mean. Two weeks after that trip to the Emergency Room, Kyle was paralyzed in an accident Kate feels responsible for, even though it wasn’t her fault. Both Kate and Kyle signed character affidavits to get Kyle into the clinical trial that gave them the first glimpse of hope either of them have had sinc
To your knowledge, has the applicant participated in the illegal use of drugs? No.
To your knowledge, has the applicant ever abused alcohol? No.
I probably would have done the same thing—even for my brother. Nineteen years old and unable to move from the neck down. Life can be cruel sometimes. But Kate chose to put her brother first … putting herself at risk by lying for him. She’d give anything to make her brother well enough to walk again. Even her own happiness.
Unwittingly, she’s about to sacrifice that too. I take another swig from the bottle. And so am I. There’s no escaping what I need to do.
There’s a knock at the door as I step from the shower. The two voices exchange words, but I can’t make them out. Probably best. If I hear pain in her voice, I’m not sure I could go through with it. The door clanks shut and the apartment goes quiet again. I throw on sweats and a t-shirt and grab two Tylenol from the bathroom medicine cabinet. My head has the early throb of a soon to be awful hangover, only I haven’t even slept yet.
“You had a visitor,” Tatiana says, a question in her voice.
“Who was it?” As if I didn’t know.
“The girl from the reality show. Kate.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing, really. She just sort of stared at me and then asked if you were home. I said you were in the shower. Then she asked what I was doing here.” She walks to me and places her palms flat on my chest. “Nosey little thing, isn’t she?”
“What did you tell her?”
“I said I was just about to strip and join you, then I asked her what she wanted.” She tilts her head. “Such a prude. She took off after that.” Her hands lift to my neck and she clasps them behind it. Pouting, she whines, “You got done too fast. I didn’t get a chance to suds you up.”
I pry her fingers from around my neck. “Go home, Tatiana. I’m not in the mood.”
Her eyes widen with shock at being turned down. I’d venture to guess it doesn’t happen often—if ever.