Page 22 of Making It While Faking It
Night fell, and we still couldn’t find anything that could help us stop Treasure from paying her family back and nullifying the contract. At least as of now, Treasure is the only person who can blow up our deal. She’ll have to be managed. And as far as looking like we’re in love, she and I will have to put on the show of shows, at least in public. Nero suggested we get help and gave me the name of a top relationship expert who works with entertainment agents and publicists. She helps Hollywood couples put together for the sake of publicity stunts to appear as if they’re in love in real life.
I jump when I hear an eruption of voices that sound like women laughing. I stand still and incline an ear in their direction. In my vanity dining room, I hear a high-pitched rumble of chattering and chuckling. No one’s supposed to be sitting in that area.
What the hell—is she having a party?
I smell food. Barbara must have made dinner already, but dinner was supposed to be served at seven. It’s now—I check the time on my Swiss watch—almost eleven. Dinner should be over, the kitchen clean, and my…
One of the women is singing.What the hell.Treasure is having a party.
I take off my suit jacket and hang it on the coat-tree evenly positioned between the two chrome-plated elevator doors. Then I see the women’s shoes. There are five pairs, all but one are high heels. The sandals with the silver studs—I bet those are hers. They look like something she’d wear, edgy and unserious.
Where’s Caroline, anyway?
The singing ends with a dramatic note and is followed by clapping. Annoyance makes me hurry up and take off my shoes. Somebody’s high heels are in my spot. That puts a sour taste in my mouth too.
I head toward the noise they’re keeping up. But I stop in my tracks when I’m halfway down the corridor and tip my head back to look up. The beams emanating from the chrome pendant lights are too bright.Did she mess with those lights too?Is this what I have to look forward to? I clap twice, pause, then clap again. The lighting dims, just the way I like it.
After I take a few more steps, one of the women’s voices comes in clearly when she says, “But Cherry Attwell, she’s not a girl’s girl, even though she plays one on TV.”
“Although she may have just done you a favor,” another woman says. “Simon Linney, Achilles Lord? Umm… I’m sorry, but excellent snag, Treasure.”
My arm flies up to rub my chest but stops halfway as the conversation continues.
“Yeah, he’s hot as hell but very strange.” That’s a third voice.
“I heard he may not be into women.”
“That’s just a rumor, right, Caroline?”That’s Treasure.
My hand completes the journey to rub my tight chest.Caroline? She’s with them?
Caroline doesn’t say anything, but why would Treasure confirm my sexuality with her? Have they discussed my sexuality in the past? My eyebrows raise and stay high. For a moment, my anger subsides, and I want to hear more.
“Shanique, thank you for freestyling my own personal breakup song. I’ll take it to the grave with me. You still got it, gorgeous. And to the rest of you, chill out already. I haven’t seen him in over a month.”
I wait to hear a reply to the last part of what Treasure has said, but it’s deathly silent, and the quietness feels like the wrong brand of silence. And then someone says, “You haven’t seen yourfiancéin over a month?” She put emphasis on the word “fiancé.”
This time, the awkward silence belongs to Treasure, which is my cue to bring an end to their conversation.
Hairs stand up on the back of my neck as I stride into their gathering. I stop when, like a gust of wind, all eyes land on me. There are six women at my table. The count includes Treasure and Caroline, who quickly stands as if she’s been caught doing something wrong. Of course, Caroline could never do anything wrong in my eyes. She practically raised me.
“Achilles,” Caroline says as her gaze dart around my face. “Your coat.”
I raise a hand to settle her nerves. “It’s no problem. I hung it up.”
I take a sweeping glance at all the amused expressions that are locked on me. They’ve made themselves comfortable at my Anthony Lithgow custom-made table and Bulan Minx leatherback chairs. Where’s the bowl of solid silver fruit that has been mindfully placed in the middle of the table beneath a pendant light that has layers of rose petals made of silver? Every day, the table has sat perfectly clean and undisturbed, with the fruit glowing pristinely, until now.
“Look who’s late for dinner,” one of the ladies, who’s made herself overly comfortable in my chair, says. There are four unfamiliar faces watching me, each wearing a gratified grin. All of a sudden, I’m hot under the collar and undo another button of my shirt. That doesn’t quell the heat or make me look away from the guarded and very sexy, and piercing eyes that belong to Treasure Grove.
“Caroline, please, sit back down and take a load off,” she says, not taking her eyes off me. “If there’s anything Mr. Lord needs, then I’ll be happy to fetch it for him.”
My eyes narrow some more. She’s beautiful tonight, although a little dark under the eyes. Has she been sleeping? I bet she doesn’t take care of herself very well. I wonder if she’s well, but I’m also bothered by the hostile way she said “fetch it.” I find her tone unnerving but a bit of a turn-on too. Nobody talks to me that way, nobody. And for a fragment of a second, I visualize her bent over the edge of my custom-made table, my hands squeezing her hips as I get an eyeful of her flawless ass while slamming my cock inside of her, then I’d back out of her, bit by bit, feeling every sensation of the ride, before slamming inside her again, hard and punishing.
Shit.
“That’s a good idea, Treasure. Fetch whatever he wants. Like, fetch it,” says one of her friends. I force my eyes off the woman I really want to fuck right now to glare at the woman with the long blond braids. She’s brazenly flirting with her eyes in a way that’s too excessive to take seriously.
The other ladies, blowing out their cheeks, restrain giggles. This is odd. It’s all too damn odd.
