8
STELLA
“DATE YOU?”
Date him?!
Had Theo lost his fucking mind?
I looked him over. He was dressed better than the first time we’d met: light khaki pants; a white linen shirt that I could tell was expensive from the weight of the fabric; a navy blue dinner jacket that matched his boat shoes.
His hair was combed back and styled in a way that would have made me want to run my fingers through it if he were anyone else. Unbidden, that ridiculously catchy song from a few summers ago popped into my head: “Trust fund. Six five. Blue eyes.”
Theo looked like he belonged in this fancy restaurant, like he was used to nice things. Like our parents went to the same country club. It made me wonder who the hell he really was. Definitely a madman, but you wouldn’t know it from the way he studied me from across the table, those stupid, pretty eyes steady and calm.
He tipped his head in the barest of nods. “Date me.”
I just stared at him, because what the fuck? There was no way he was serious. Date the man, no, the criminal who’d done nothing but piss me off since his first email hit my inbox. The criminal who’d come into my shop to taunt me after he’d cost my brother his entire inheritance. The criminal I now owed three million dollars to. The criminal I’d—nope. Not going there.
Not thinking about the way I’d dry-humped him while his tongue did delicious, lascivious things in my mouth. This was bad enough as it was without adding humiliation to the mix.
“Why?” I blurted, so confused that for a second, I forgot to be scared.
Theo shrugged. “Because I need new clients. Specifically, wealthy ones, and a great way to get them is to rub elbows with people from your
socioeconomic class.”
Judging by his tone, there was an insult buried there, and I didn’t like it.
“My socioeconomic class is the one of barely-above-water small business owners.”
He shook his head, a subtle smile playing about his lips. “The one you were born into, Stella.”
I shivered, hating the sound of my name on his lips. “The only people I see from that class are my parents, and there’s no way I’m introducing you to them.”
Despite his lingering grin, something malicious sparked in his eyes. “I’m not good enough to meet Mommy and Daddy?”
“No, you fucking asshole.”
I could tell the second the words were out of my mouth that it had been the wrong thing to say. Theo’s smile disappeared, replaced by something cold and malevolent. Something that finally made me realize the gravity of my situation. Until now, I’d been thinking of him as an obnoxious gym bro, because that’s how he’d presented himself. But this new darkness made me realize he’d acted that way on purpose, to lull me into complacency so I wouldn’t see the dagger hidden behind his back.
What had Blake said to me the other night? That Mr. Strickland always collected his debts. That he’d go to any extremes to do so. That he was ruthless. Morally bankrupt. Soulless.
Instead of insulting him, I should be ingratiating myself to him, getting on his good side so he wouldn’t feel the need to further prove what a bastard he really was. Apologizing for my last comment would be a good start, but no matter how hard I tried to force the words, they wouldn’t come.
My stubbornness had reared its ugly head, going to war with my logic, and we were stuck in suspended silence.
“Unfortunately,” he said, “you’re not in a position to tell me ‘no.’ So, yes, you will introduce me to your parents and all their fancy friends. We’ll go to their parties together, their charity fundraisers. And while we’re there, I’ll discreetly gather new clients.”
Why? I wanted to demand. Why my brother, why me, why my parents and their “fancy friends”? This all felt like some sort of setup, like Theo had laid a trap for me that I’d blundered straight into. If it were one, I’d be an idiot to let on that I was suspicious of a greater scheme. Plus, it was
doubtful he’d answer my questions anyway, so I kept them to myself, fighting a mix of rage and fear, feeling like a caged rat with nowhere to go.
Because he was right. I couldn’t say no to him. Not without discovering the depths of his ruthlessness. And I wasn’t willing to risk my brother’s future just to slake my curiosity.
“How will dating you clear my debt?” I asked, glad my voice sounded steadier than I felt.
“By making me more money,” he said. “Your peers have deep pockets and generational ennui. My illegal games are just the thing to bring a little excitement back into their monotonous lives. Their debts will clear yours.”
“And I’m free once they spend three million dollars?”
He nodded, a small smile playing about his lips that I didn’t trust for a second. Why was this motherfucker always grinning?
“How long do you think that will that take?” I asked, nightmares of being forced to pretend I actually liked this man for months on end running through my mind.
“That depends on what kind of players you recruit.”
“Me?” I said, incredulous. “I’m supposed to do the recruiting, too? You just said that you’d be the one collecting clients.”
“Yes. But I don’t know these people. I’ll need you to point out who the best candidates are. Who might be more accepting of a little illicit fun without leaking my secrets.”
I rested my elbows on the table and rubbed my temples. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me. I haven’t been around any of these people in years, and I hate most of them.”
“First off, I don’t care,” he said with such obvious disdain that I felt like an idiot for thinking that could change his mind. “Secondly, not liking them should make your job easier.”
I lifted my head to meet his gaze. The candle flickered between us, light dancing across his features, sweeping along his jawline and cheekbones, softening his skin and lending it a golden hue that gave his face a dreamy, surreal quality. My fingers itched for a sketch pad, and it made me hate him even more. His beauty was a trap. A lie. Nothing but a paper-thin façade hiding the monster beneath.
My eyes rose back to his, and I found him watching me, waiting, like he had all the time in the world for me to come to terms with my situation.
It could be worse, I told myself.
God, it could have been so much worse. He could have forced me to sell the tattoo parlor, take out astronomical loans I could never hope to repay, threaten to go after my parents or ruin my brother’s life. Compared to all that, pretending to date him should seem like a cakewalk. But I didn’t know if I could stomach it, if I could believably pretend to enjoy Theo’s company when all I’d be thinking about was how many other people were trapped beneath his thumb, how many more souls I’d be forced to deliver to his doorstep.
Unbidden, an image of Blake popped into my mind. Of him sitting in my tattoo parlor the other night, head in his hands, terrified that he’d ruined his life.
I took a deep breath. For him, I could do this. I’d already destroyed my life once, so what did it matter if I did it again? I knew that I was strong enough to endure this, believed that I could find a way to climb out of this hole and eventually return to a somewhat normal existence, because I’d done it before under much worse conditions.
Blake might not be fully innocent of any blame for this situation, but to me, the only thing he was guilty of was having the world’s worst luck. The one time he (understandably) got blackout drunk and acted out of character, he had the misfortune of blundering straight into someone more than ready to take advantage of him. It didn’t seem fair, but then life wasn’t known for its fairness.
I was now in a position to keep Blake from facing the same devastation I had, to keep my family from enduring another scandal, and after everything I’d put them all through, it felt like the least I could do.
Blake was going to be furious when he found out I’d traded places with him. And probably try to do something stupid like switch back. But that was a problem for future Stella. Current Stella already had enough on her plate.
I met Theo’s unforgiving gaze. The gym bro was long gone, and in his place sat someone far more formidable, far more dangerous.
Oh, fuck. This was happening.
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry, and nodded. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
His lips curled into an antagonistic grin. “I knew you were smarter than you looked.”
I fought to keep from scowling at him. “Don’t you think this is going to be bad enough without you insulting me every few seconds?”
“But insulting you is so much fun.”
I was about to clap back when the waiter reappeared with Theo’s entrée.
He wisely kept his focus on Theo, asking if he wanted any fresh asiago grated over the dish. Theo acquiesced.
“And can you bring us a spare plate?” Theo asked. “This looks so good, my girlfriend might decide she’d like to try some.”
The waiter hesitated. Glanced my way. I kept my gaze fixed on Theo.
His girlfriend? I was already supposed to play my part?
“Sure, honey,” I said, my voice dripping poison.
The waiter scampered away.
Theo chuckled. “Feral little thing, aren’t you?”
I didn’t respond. Didn’t trust myself to not bite him if I opened my mouth. He’d returned to being smarmy, but I wasn’t about to be lulled back into complacency. I’d glimpsed something far more treacherous lurking beneath the surface: the real Theo.
He lifted his silverware, his fork in his right hand as he speared a piece
of chicken.
“Not like that,” I blurted.
He paused to glance up at me.
“If you want to step into my parents’ world, you’ll need to act the part.” I gestured at him. “This old-money aesthetic is a good start, but there are little things that will give you away, hint that you’re not one of them.
They’ll never accept anyone they suspect is a fraud.”
“Elaborate,” he said.
I dragged the bread plate closer and picked up my own utensils, fork in my left hand, knife in my right. “Like this,” I said, demonstrating the European way of holding your silverware. I cut through a piece of bread, positioning my fork just so as I lifted it toward my lips. Instead of popping
it in my mouth, I set it back down.
“You should eat that,” Theo said.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You look like you should be,” he muttered, switching his fork to his left hand and cutting into his chicken.
I blinked, simmering in silent outrage. I’d heard snide remarks like that my whole life. Eat a burger, was a frequent comment on my Instagram posts. I’d stopped trying to explain myself to people. It wasn’t any of their business why I was underweight, why trying to put on pounds was nearly impossible, how any weight I was able to gain never stuck because my kind of chronic illness wasn’t visible to the naked eye.
God, I wished I were hungry, but all I felt was nauseated because my stomach was currently an acid-filled nightmare. This spike of stress had triggered my gastritis, and for the past few days, I’d been doing everything in my power to avoid a full-blown flare-up.
My stomach burned, but I’d already taken my emergency meds, and now there was nothing left for me to do but take small sips of water to dilute the acid until I could get out of here and, hopefully, find some way to calm down.
Not that I was going to tell Theo any of this; I wasn’t about to hand him more ammunition to use against me.
“I ate before I came,” I told him, pushing away the plate of bread.
“Sure,” he said, sounding like he didn’t believe me.
The word felt like a slap to the face. Him constantly taunting me was bad enough. I had no idea how I was going to pretend to be his girlfriend if I had to endure this level of casual cruelty on top of it.
“What else?” Theo said.
“What else, what?” I asked.
“What else do I need to know to blend in?”
“Lose the jacket. It’s trying too hard.”
He shoved another forkful of food into his mouth before shrugging out of the garment. I could immediately tell it was the right move. His linen shirt was nice, the heavier drape of it highlighting his muscles without making him look too big. If he could just keep his fucking mouth shut, he might fit in perfectly. There was something about his features that lent him a kind of aristocratic beauty. The lush shape of his mouth. His aquiline nose. Paired with his blond hair, he’d look right at home on horseback in the English countryside.
“I can’t believe I’m taking fashion advice from Bondage Barbie,” he muttered, setting the jacket aside.
“Just because I favor black clothing doesn’t mean I don’t understand fashion. You want to ignore me and risk immediately getting spotted as an
interloper, go right ahead, farm boy.”
His eyes narrowed. “Farm boy?”
“Oh, please,” I said. “You think I can’t hear traces of your Yooper accent when you say certain things? Especially when you’re being a prick. It brings out your lingering rhoticity in any word ending with an r.”
“Rhoticity,” he repeated. “Sounds like one of your fancy prep school words.”
“It is.” No sense in denying it. I’d had a superior education. At least, when I’d actually gone to school. “It means your ‘r’ sounds are pronounced.
Like car,” I said, putting extra emphasis on the end of the word.
“Noted. Anything else you want to point out?”
“Not especially, no.” From his sharp tone, it was clear I’d pushed my luck by being so blunt.
Theo released a prolonged sigh and schooled his features. “No, really.
Continue. I need to know everything I can.”
I eyed him, feeling like this might be another trap. The restaurant had dimmed the overhead lights even further, and between the deeper shadows and warm candlelight, he looked like something out of a Renaissance painting. My focus dropped to his lips. I hated that I knew how they felt against mine. Hated that my mind kept circling back to our kiss. Not because I wanted to do it again. Fuck, no. It was because I was furious with myself for letting it happen.
He licked his lips, and I glanced up to find him staring at me, the smug, heated look on his face telling me he knew exactly where my thoughts had gone.
“Don’t ever bring up money,” I said to break the tension. “And never ask anyone what they do for work. Most of my parents’ friends and the people who float through their circle still view ‘work’ as what the peasants do for them while they sit fat and happy in their castles.”
He sent me one last lingering look before shifting his attention back to his food. “Keep going.”
I spent the next hour telling him everything I knew about the unwritten rules of the world I’d grown up in, wondering if I was making a huge
mistake, praying the information wouldn’t somehow lead to the damnation of more innocent people.
Theo absorbed it all like a sponge, and from the way his eyes sharpened, watching me with intent, I had no doubt he’d filed away every single word I’d said. Which only drove home how fucked I really was. Because my hatred didn’t blind me to the fact that Theo was intelligent, determined, and a fast learner. Hell, he was already handling his silverware like he’d eaten this way for years, and his voice had lost all hints of a country accent, morphing into something smoother and deeper. It left me even more convinced that he had ulterior motives. That I was about to lead a wolf into a pasture full of … well, not sheep, but maybe slower, dumber wolves.
“We need to start small,” he said at the end of my crash-course finishing school. “A family dinner or a more intimate gathering, where I can meet your parents without too many eyes on us. That way, we’re already familiar with each other going into larger parties, and it will make our relationship seem more legit to everyone else if they already know me.”
I opened my mouth to tell him no, because the thought of bringing him straight into my parents’ small inner circle felt like too much, too soon, not to mention that it would be a monumental betrayal of their trust. But one sharp look from Theo had me choking back the word, remembering his earlier declaration that I was in no position to deny him. Maybe I could play into whatever sliver of empathy he might have instead.
“I’m scared to do that,” I admitted. “I don’t know you, and so far, all you’ve done is antagonize, threaten, and blackmail me. What assurance do I have that you won’t do something to hurt my family?”
“None.”
I waited for more, but he just sat there, watching me. Okay then, empathy was not in the room with us. No need to panic. No need to freak out over the fact that I now owed this soulless motherfucker three million dollars and was completely at his mercy—of which, he obviously had none.
Absolutely no need to start spiraling and— Theo sighed, clocking my mounting anxiety. “Why would I harm them?
There’s no benefit to me.”
I gaped at him. “Is that supposed to be reassuring?”
He lifted his glass and drained the last of his wine. “Take it however you like. But I’ll have to meet them eventually, and if this plan is going to work,
it makes the most sense to do it my way.”
I hated that he was right. That it was smart to do it his way. Part of me wanted to argue, if only to buy myself time to find an alternative, but it was pointless.
“Fine,” I said. “But you should know that you can only push me so far.
My family isn’t without defenses. If it ever feels like a massive scandal is preferable to this arrangement, I’ll tell my parents everything, consequences be damned.”
His teeth flashed in the candlelight. “Is that a threat?”
I shook my head. “Just a statement of fact.”
“And you don’t think I have ways of retaliating?” he drawled, draping his arm over the back of the booth again. He both sounded and looked relaxed, but I could tell I was pushing him farther than I probably should.
Too bad. It had to be done. He needed to understand that I wasn’t some helpless little plaything.
“I’m sure you’re more than capable of retaliating,” I said. “But if you want to do it ‘your way,’ we need ground rules.”
“Fine. Rule number one: no fucking.”
Heat swept over my cheeks, my earlier promise to keep my anger in check completely forgotten. The nerve of this man. I opened my mouth to tell him the only person he’d be fucking was himself, but he held up a hand to forestall me.
“Don’t,” he said. “I can’t stand to hear a woman beg, and you should know that no matter how hard you do, I won’t change my mind. We need to keep some professional boundaries between us.”
I choked on my tongue. I was going to murder him.
“Number two,” he said. “You have to be nice to me in front of other people.”
“And how do you expect me to do that when every word out of your mouth is a provocation?”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way.” His gaze bored into mine. “Especially given the alternative.”
My flush deepened. Great, so we were already back to threats.
“No telling people who I really am,” he said. “No warning people away from me. And don’t even hint that I might be anything other than your adoring boyfriend.”
“Adoring,” I bit out.
He nodded as he looked me over, his expression shifting into something raw, possessive, like he already knew every curve and valley hidden beneath my dress and couldn’t wait to get me out of it. Leaning forward, he lifted a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers trailing over my jaw, pausing to angle my chin up so he could stare deeply into my eyes.
Someone nearby let out a dreamy little sigh, clearly watching this display.
Theo dropped his voice into something sinful. “Unlike you, I have no doubt that I can play my part.”
I jerked out of his grip, hating the way my nipples had pebbled and heat had pooled in my core, my body falling for his lies even as my mind
rebelled.
“Anything else?” I asked.
He rattled off several more rules, all of them placing restrictions on my behavior. Finally, he relented. “I think that’s it for now. We can figure the rest out as we go.”
“Wonderful. Can’t wait.” My tone was laced with sarcasm.
“After the first party, we’ll attend a slightly larger one,” Theo said. “Your choice. And that’s where you’ll start pointing people out.”
My eyebrows crept upward. “You trust me to pick?”
“I trust you to remember it’s in your best interest to choose wisely.” This time, his smile was more a baring of teeth. “You have far more at stake than I do. If you really think threatening to go to your parents is enough to keep me from doing my worst, it only shows that you’re just as naïve and sheltered as your brother.” His voice dropped into a bass growl. “You don’t want to get on my bad side, Stella. You don’t want to make me hurt you.”
He opened his wallet, tossed three hundred-dollar bills on the table, and left. I stared after him, struck silent by his last, deeply fucked-up declaration. His face had been void of all emotion, like the choice of getting hurt or not was entirely up to me, and it didn’t matter to him one way or another.
With shaking hands, I pulled my phone from my purse and hit stop on my voice recording app. Thank god I at least had this if I did end up going to the police. I watched it save to my files, and then got up and left the restaurant, popping in an earbud as I waited for my Uber to arrive, because
there was no way in hell I was walking all the way back to the subway in these heels.
The recording sounded fine at first (I’d hit start right before walking into the restaurant), but only a few seconds in, something went wrong. Weird, distorted noises started playing, and then soon, all I heard was a continuous low, vibrating tone that shook my eardrum. I pulled the earbud out, wondering if that was the problem, but when I played the recording over my phone’s speaker (much to the annoyance of people passing on the sidewalk) the same thing happened.
Panicking, I skipped forward in the file, but the entire thing seemed corrupted.
No. No. I had been relying on having this evidence to prove that I was being blackmailed. Without it, I had nothing but my word, which didn’t mean shit in this city.
I turned to stare back at the restaurant. Had Theo … done something to
cause this?
Unease crept up my spine.
Who the hell was he?
And what the fuck had I gotten myself into?
