Savage: A Bad Boy Fake Fiancé Romance Page 13

  Hashtag OhEmGee or what-the-fuck-ever.

  We reached the front of the store and admired the rings together, my arm looped around Olivia’s waist. She pointed out one of the rings, a sapphire rimmed by diamonds, and I laughed along with whatever she said.

  The pictures were taken. The dummy ring had already been purchased and was in my pocket, but the man behind the counter, complete with a seriously ambitious moustache and a wolfish smile, made the effort of disappearing through a back door to fetch the keys for the ring case, regardless.

  “This is it?” Olivia asked, shifting her heels on the maroon carpet. “All we have to do? I can leave after this?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “I’ll be by later with some of my things.”

  “Right,” she muttered, then she finally met me eye for eye. “I’ve been thinking about that.”

  “Have you?” I smirked.

  “Yes.” She checked over her shoulder to ensure the coast was clear. “You’ll have to sleep in the guestroom. It will be less confusing for Penny.”

  “Bullshit,” I replied, so the toddler wouldn’t hear. “Grow a pair and tell me the real reason.”

  “I was about to,” she snapped. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to sleep together again, Beckett.”

  Was she fucking insane? I’d turned her inside out last night. She’d come so hard she’d actually trembled for five full minutes afterward. “That’s a dumbass idea.”

  “No, it’s not. You might be able to separate the past from the present, but I can’t.” She took a single step closer and lowered her voice even further.

  That space between us might as well have been a chasm.

  “I know how you see me, Beckett. I know I’m nothing but a conquest for you. Someone you think you can claim and throw away like trash,” she said, and inhaled through her mouth—a hiccup almost. “But I won’t be that. You can’t claim me or own me. The more time we spend together, the worse it gets, so yeah, no more sex. That’s officially part of the deal, now. It’s better for me and it’s better for Penny.”

  Of course, the mustachioed mother fucker decided to come back with the keys at this moment.

  “You couldn’t be more wrong, Olivia. You could try, but you wouldn’t be successful.” But that was a lie. Everything she’d said was true.

  I had wanted to conquer her and leave her behind, but the combination of guilt over Michael’s death and my need for Olivia had drawn me closer to her. Closer than I was comfortable with.

  Last night, I’d done what she’d wanted. I’d claimed that pussy good and solid, but after, I’d wanted nothing more than to cuddle her. To take her to my bedroom and lie down with her, wrap her in my arms and breathe in Miss Peach-and-Vanilla.

  “Here we are, sir,” the helper-guy said, and he drew out a row of rings. I made a show of examining them, though my mind wasn’t in the pretense.

  To one side, another assistant, this one young with a smartphone, snapped pictures of me and Olivia together and typed furiously. Kayla had scheduled an article for later, but not a photoshoot, simply because I’d refused.

  I’d doubted O would want Penny’s pictures taken in this context.

  “Perfect,” I said, and pointed to one of the rings. The same gold-sapphire one with diamond clusters. “I’ll take that one.”

  The guy winked. “I’ll package this for you in the back, sir.”

  What he’d do was fetch the dummy I’d selected earlier. It looked nothing like the ring Olivia had pointed out, out of genuine interest.

  We spent the next few minutes in utter silence. I didn’t reach for her. She didn’t smile.

  Thankfully, Kayla’s little buddy had quit taking pictures.

  The only remotely cheerful one in the room was Penny, who babbled to herself and fiddled with a stuffed animal. “Ice cream,” she said. “Can I have ice cream?” Penny sat straight and turned in her stroller. She gave Olivia a pleading expression.

  “Please, darling,” Olivia said.

  “Please, duh-ling,” Penny replied.

  “After this.”

  “After this I’m coming home with my shit,” I said, softly, as if she’d forgotten.

  “Later,” Olivia said.

  “Lighten up, O,” I whispered, and smiled again as the back door opened and Mr. Mustache appeared. “Soon this will all be over. A couple weeks, max.”

  “That’s fine,” she hissed.

  “Here you are, sir, ma’am.” The clerk handed me a velvet box, and I grinned, accepted it, ran my thumb over the top.

  “Easy as that. Thank you.”

  “Best of luck to the both of you,” he said and bowed his head.

  “We don’t need it,” Olivia replied and pushed the stroller toward the exit.

  I walked after her and took her by the elbow, stopping her in her tracks. “I don’t know if I fucked you so hard last night that a screw came lose, but you need to cool it with these mood swings. This has to be believable to work.” I kept my voice low. I wasn’t that much of an asshole that I’d swear in front of Penny.

  “I know that.”

  “Then act like it.” I sniffed. “We need to discuss the proposal.”

  “No need. Give me the ring and I’ll put it on, now. We can make up some story about how you asked me with a million white doves or whatever is supposed to be romantic.” She laid out her palm.

  This didn’t feel right. None of it felt right.

  It wasn’t the ring—I was allergic to the prospect of marriage as it was. It was her anger. Her resistance.

  For once, I didn’t want to fuck it out of her. I wanted to draw her close and understand why she felt this way.

  Except she didn’t want that. She didn’t want the emotional side. Had we miraculously switched roles overnight?

  I removed the ring from its box and plopped it into her palm. She closed her hand around it.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Put it on.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes,” I snapped. “Now. Right this second.

  She ground her teeth but did it anyway. “There. Happy?” She flashed the fake diamond at me. “We’re engaged. Yay me! Yay you! Wonderful. I can’t wait for the honeymoon.”

  “Can it,” I growled. “I don’t know who pissed in your oatmeal, but I’m not taking it, Olivia.”

  “You don’t have to,” she said. “Listen, don’t bother coming to my place tonight with your stuff. I won’t be there.”

  I gave a sardonic smile. “Where will you be, then?”

  “None of your darn business.” And with that, she marched for the door, positively steaming.

  I’d never chased a woman in my life. I wasn’t about to start now.

  Chapter 20

  Olivia

  I stormed down the sidewalk, past a slew of folks on their way to the office or the playground or school. Moms and tots, businessmen and women, people of all shapes and sizes, talking languages from every corner of the globe.

  Cars hooted and cabs sailed by in the street. Advertisements flashed on the buildings. Tourists stalled and took pictures. A typical Times Square moment captured, canned, and taken back home.

  All of it kept Penny totally occupied—sights and sounds—but it rolled right off of me.

  I couldn’t focus on anything except my internal landscape.

  Maybe if I pushed him away hard enough, this would work. I’d get out of this fake engagement with my sanity and heart intact.

  Last night, after he’d filled me again and lifted me from the desk, tucked me against his chest and treated me to the scent of his cologne, amber and forever, I’d come to the stark realization that I was a total idiot.

  Conquest Olivia. That was my name.

  I was next in line, right after my best friend Bebe, and I’d slept with him knowing that, because he was just so damn irresistible. So opposite to me, so broken that I dreamed of fixing him.

  Even a fucked clock told the right time twice a day. Lame ol
d saying.

  I headed toward West 59th Street and the Plaza, shaking my head. I forced myself to focus.

  Ice cream. The park. Penny had loved the park. We would go there for a while, and then I’d go home, and if Beckett did show up, I’d lock the door and switch off the lights and hide like a coward.

  Because hiding meant preserving myself.

  No matter how much you want to, you can’t make a man love you. My mom’s words.

  Followed by my dad’s: If he really loves you, sweetheart, he’ll go to the end of the world for you. He’ll do whatever it takes to show you that he cares.

  No twist of my imagination could turn this fake fiancé stunt with Beckett into him “caring.” This was a purely selfish act.

  About twenty minutes later—thanks tourists—we passed the Plaza and made it to the little ice cream shop I’d found on Yelp ages ago.

  Grom made the best gelato under the damn sun. I ordered a choc for me, a vanilla for Penny, and I handed it to her, and we set off again, across the busy street and straight into the park.

  I plonked down on a bench just outside the Heckscher Playground and lifted Penny up next to me. She grinned at the little kids with their parents, clapped her hands at the sight of the slides, the sand, the trees, and all the joy around her.

  Ice cream was her first priority though.

  “Do you like it?” I asked her.

  “Love ice cream. Oh, is so yummy,” she said and grinned at me, her mouth coated in white.

  “Here, honey.” I whipped a napkin out of the bag attached to the back of her stroller and dabbed her face. “You missed a spot.”

  “Thank you, Libya!”

  I laughed at her, and we ate on. After, we played for a little while, but the rush was way too much for me, and it was past time I got her home for a nap. So, we set off again, this time to hail a cab.

  We entered a quieter part of the park, and I lost myself in thought again.

  Beckett.

  Ugh, I needed to talk to someone about this. To anyone.

  I’d even talk to Bebe if I had to. I’d already decided it wasn’t her fault she’d fallen into his trap. In fact, if anyone would get how I felt, it was probably her.

  I peeked at Penny through the plastic flap on the top of her stroller and grinned. Three minutes of walking and she was already fast asleep. She’d managed to spill ice cream on her shirt, too, but that’d have to wait until we got home.

  I brought out my cell, spotted the missed calls from Beckett, and ignored them.

  I had to be as savage as he was if I wanted to get through this. And over him.

  Two minutes later, I had Bebe on the phone.

  “There you are,” she purred. “I was worried.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought you were upset because of what I told you the other night. Listen, hon, I was drunk. I’m so sorry I just laid it all on you like that. It was totally wrong of me to do that.” Bebe was genuine. The girl who’d taken me under her wing in college shone right through.

  I heaved a sigh. “It’s all good. I understand. I would’ve been freaked if I were you. I—I know what Beckett is like. He kind of draws you in.”

  “You can say that again,” Bebe huffed, and that jealous monster raged in my torso.

  I squished it into nothingness, focusing instead on the moment. On Penny asleep, the passing trees, and the canopy shading the pathway. The wheels of her stroller crunching on the walkway.

  “So, if you’re not angry, why did you call?” Bebe asked. “Not that I’m not happy to hear from you. I mean, it feels like forever since we, like, went out and did something together, you know?”

  “Things have been busy.” Understatement of the century. “And complicated.”

  “Complicated how?” Bebe asked.

  I checked on Penny again, hesitated, bit my lip. Behind me, something crunched on the path, and I turned and squinted down the walkway. Nothing. Ugh, I was obviously paranoid.

  “Is it Beckett?”

  That was all she needed to ask.

  It poured from me. Almost all of it. None of the juicy details, but yeah, the fact that we’d had sex and that I’d had feelings for him for years, and everything that’d happened with my aunt and uncle and Penny.

  It was cathartic.

  Total word vomit. It came out hot and high-pitched, and I spoke for ten minutes flat. And by the time I was finished, I was caught between relief at having gotten it off my chest and regret. What would Bebe think of me?

  “Oh my god, girl,” she said. “I am so, so sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For sleeping with him. I had no idea he was so into you or you into him.”

  “That’s the point, Beebs,” I said, “he doesn’t love me. I’m just another name on his list, and now that he’s ticked me off, he’s going to leave me.” Just like he had years ago.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Oh, but I do. Beckett’s got something missing. Like a sensitivity chip or romance gene. He’s not capable of acting out of compassion. He’s all about him. That’s the lesson he’s taught me over and over again, and in the past, I was too dumb to see it, but now? I don’t know, maybe sleeping with him opened my eyes about how dangerous he is.”

  “Dangerous how? He wouldn’t hurt you, surely.”

  “Not physically. Never that. No, but he’d have no qualms walking out without any given notice. And I can’t afford that now that I’m looking after Penny.” I bit my bottom lip.

  “Well, ain’t that a barrel of fish on a summer’s day.”

  “Huh?”

  “I mean the fact that you’re going to be living with the guy for however long to keep Penny. It’s so not like you,” Bebe said.

  Shame replaced frustration. “I know. It’s wrong. It’s not like me. I’m not a liar, but for all anyone else might know, it could be true. It could happen that we were engaged and broke up. It’s not exactly morally up there as the best thing to do in the world, but the damage is already done.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning everyone in his circles and everyone in Manhattan who’s anyone knows about Penny and I. People are paying attention. They’re going to treat us differently because of him. So even if we came out and said, nope, we’re not together, it wouldn’t make a difference. The splash has been made. That was his argument anyway.”

  “True,” Bebe said and sighed. “I guess I just think that—”

  Footsteps shuffled on the path behind me, and I looked back again. There was a man just a couple paces behind me, evidently involved in whatever was on his cellphone screen, but he glanced up just as I turned back.

  Our eyes met.

  My heart did a weird little fear flip. Why? I had no idea. It was a gut reaction.

  “Sorry, what did you say?” I blinked and focused on the conversation again but quickened my pace a bit.

  The guy, in a gray hoodie and a pair of sweats and sneakers, was probably a jogger, but this was still New York City. I’d learned to be aware of my surroundings. At night, which, sure, wasn’t now, pickpocketing was a thing in Central Park.

  “I said that regardless of the ethical aspect, it’s probably going to be pretty difficult living with a guy you’ve got feelings for and not doing anything with him. Can’t you put it out there that you’re not going to—?”

  I glanced back again, and this time, my heart leaped right into my throat.

  Hoodie guy had kept pace with me. The same exact speed, and he’d put his phone away, too. His gaze was fixed on me, and it was a dark gaze. There was intent there, and it wasn’t paranoia. It was obvious.

  I sucked in breaths. The world muffled. I faced forward and raced on, my gaze on Penny, now.

  “Olivia?” Bebe’s voice came through and snapped me back from the edge of panic.

  “I have to go. I’ll call you later.” I hung up and shoved the phone into the bag attached to the back of Penny’s stroller. I broke into a jog, shifting m
y hands on the bar and avoiding bumps as best I could.

  I didn’t look back, just ran as fast as I could with a stroller. My lungs and legs burned, and I kept my focus glued on Penny through the little plastic viewfinder. She was fast asleep.

  Five minutes of jogging, panicky, and I was in the open, in front of people at the fountain. I slowed to a halt, flushed and totally out of breath and turned on the spot, searching the crowd.

  No gray hoodie. No man following us.

  I exhaled and bit back tears. That wasn’t paranoid, was it? That’d been real. He’d kept pace with us. He’d stared at me.

  But why?

  Ugh, I didn’t want to think about it. I circled the stroller and checked on Penny up close. Her little eyelids fluttered, and she looked up at me for a second. I held my breath. Waited for the scream.

  It didn’t come.

  Penny smiled at me. “Love you, Libya.” And then she dropped off again.

  At least one thing was right in the world. Now, all I had to do was get home and make the decision. Call off the charade and risk my life with Penny, or suck it up, lie, and deal with living with a man who had the power to rip my heart out and show it to me, bloodied and still beating.

  Why couldn’t life be simple?

  Chapter 21

  Beckett

  Music thundered through the space around me, the steady thump of base thrumming up my spine and half-deafening me. Strobe lights flickered, slashing through the darkness, each moment captured as if it were a photo negative of the evening.

  A woman dropped her drink. Flash. Men rubbed up against a big-titted blonde. Flash. Two chicks making out, standing in the middle of the floor, totally lost in each other. Flash. A guy with his hand to his mouth, stumbling around the floor.

  I leaned back on the sofa in the VIP area and cupped my phone between my palms, instead of the drink my “buddy” Eric had purchased at the bar.

  “Drinks on me!” he’d yelled and the rest of the entourage had whooped their pleasure. I’d remained silent. The whiskey here was shit. The atmosphere was shit. The fact that I couldn’t go to Olivia’s apartment was shit.