A Tempting Arrangement (Twisted Vows Book 1)

6. Misty

I loosely curlmy chin-length hair, giving it some texture, then twist it back and away from my face. The rope braid result looks way more complicated than it is to do it.

I’ve dressed in a high-waisted, deep emerald skirt that hits mid-calf with a two-foot slit up the side and paired it with a pink, yellow, and green striped sweater.

Clothes have become my creative outlet, a way to let my true self shine through while being a silent protest of my past.

I’d been raised in a well-off family, but we never fit in with the rich Canadian community, no matter how desperately my parents tried. They’d enrolled me into Baskerville Hall when I was three years old, always reminding me of the status they expected me to reach. My wardrobe had been a sea of muted pastels that looked lifeless with their lack of personality. My parents dressed me up to fit in with the people they desperately wanted to be.

Until…after the “incident,” as my parents like to call it. When I woke up in the hospital with stitches along my back and a soreness between my legs, I’d expected my parents to be angry, furious.

Instead, they cautioned me to be quiet. That it would only come back on me. That he was from a good family and I’d been dating him for several weeks. It didn’t take long for their words to turn accusatory, wanting to know what I had done to bring it on and letting me know they would never be on my side. They made me promise to not tell anyone. That this was the type of secret that would ruin me and not him if it came out. Finally, they told me if I loved them, I wouldn’t ruin this for them.

From the moment my parents said that, I knew I would escape them and everything they represented.

And I did. I filled my life with color. Even went a little overboard with my obsession with college hockey. I allowed myself to do whatever I wanted. Whatever made me feel happy. But I never forgot the lesson I’d learned that day. Even the closest people to you can turn their backs if the situation inconveniences them.

So I let my light shine through, presenting the world with my perfectly happy demeanor, and pushed that darkness deep inside. I locked the helpless rage into a box and tucked it into the corner of my mind, never to think of again.

Then last night, I stood in a room full of pastel dresses, of carefully constructed faces, and that box shook in my soul, reminding me that I do not belong.

I slip on my favorite patent leather Doc Martens that always manage to make me feel stronger. Like I can stomp out any of my problems and lock the door behind me.

The app says my Uber is waiting, but when I exit my building, it’s Nicholas standing there with a wide, welcoming smile as he opens the back door of a black sedan for me.

Alarm bells ring in my head as I take in the strange sight. “What are you doing here?”

He shifts on his feet and loosens his perfectly tied tie. “Mr. Everette has requested that I remain your driver for the foreseeable future.”

“What?” The word snaps out, and my mouth opens in shock. I stare at Nicholas for several seconds, but when he doesn’t correct himself, I pull up the Uber app again.

“Not happening,”I say without looking up. “You can tell your boss thank you, but I’m not interested.”

“Understandable, Miss Hart. It would be a great favor to me if you let me drive you until you can speak of this with Mr. Everette himself.”

He looks so agitated that all the air pushes from my lungs. I’m not angry with him.

“Just this once.”

The corner of his lip lifts, and he bows his head slightly. “Of course, miss.”

We’re quiet on the ride. The tension of the situation makes it hard for me to put on my usual happy persona. When we arrive, I make sure I thank him genuinely and apologize for any inconvenience.

“No inconvenience at all. It’s an honor to drive someone so important to Mr. Everette.”

He makes absolutely no sense. I’m a lowly PR rep, and I might be good at my job, but this entire situation has me trying to sort out any rational reason, and I come up empty.

I’ll give it an hour to get myself under control before calling Damon. His name conjures up images of him standing in front of me, his breath filling my lungs with each inhale. I shake my head. Better make it a few hours.

Thank God he’s almost never here, so at least I don’t have to worry about running into him.

I go to my cubicle first, dropping off my things and checking my emails before heading down two floors to the fitness center. Since the building houses an NHL team, it’s stocked with the finest equipment. There’s a lap pool, a weight room, and even a running track that circles the entire floor.

Directly in the center of the space is the juice bar that enticed me down here.

“Hey, Mike. The usual, please.”

The attendant waves in acknowledgment. “One orangesicle smoothie coming up.”

It’s the least healthy item on the menu, but hey…I’m not the one trying to be on the top of my game, and a little sugar rush never hurt anyone.

“Misty,” Lucas says and rubs a cloth over his face as he approaches. He rests it around his neck, the white fabric bright against his deep brown skin. “How’s it going? You took off pretty fast after the fire alarm. Piper wanted you to come over for drinks.”

I take a long sip from my smoothie. What am I supposed to say? That the owner of his team turned me on in the alleyway and I’d been desperate to escape from that point on? I’m not ready to face that, let alone speak it aloud, so I go with, “Headache. I texted the group chat whenI got home.”

“I know, I got it.” He searches my features like he’s not sure if he should believe me or not. “So long as you’re all good?”

“Yup, yes…perfectly good,” I stammer, and his brows pull together. Desperate to change the subject, I bring up the one thing I know will work. “I’ve been working on the fundraiser with Mia. We’re going to do an auction. I know how well that worked out for you and Piper.”

Lucas huffs a laugh through his nose and grabs one of the bottles of water from the small fridge under the counter, full of grab-and-go snacks for the guys.“This is going to cost me thousands.”

I shrug. “Probably, but it’s for a good cause. You should bid on Alex. River will lose it. You can see how high you can make him bid.”

“You’re evil, you know that?”

“I prefer clever.”

“That too.”

“Hey, what are you two laughing about?” I startle when Carter, one of the second-line D-men, comes up from behind me.

“Just that Misty’s an evil genius and I’m glad she’s on our side,” Lucas replies, then takes a long drink from his water.

Carter smirks, showing off his dimples. I’m sure that smile worked for him in the past. “Is that true?” He brushes a strand of hair behind my shoulders. “I don’t think that’s right. No one as bright as you could have a dark side.”

I stiffen. This guy’s nice and all, but we’re definitely not close enough for him to touch me. That being said, neither are Damon and I, and I let him get way closer than this. The thought of Damon just makes it all the more apparent that I’m not into Carter. It’s too bad. I could definitely use a release.

Hoping he doesn’t notice, I shift, putting a little more distance between us.

“You should have more faith in my mastermind abilities. Do you really think you’d know if I don’t want you to?” I punctuate my words with a wink.

Lucas laughs. “I told you, man. Keep an eye on this one.”

Carter’s gaze meets mine. “I plan on it. Want to grab lunch sometime?”

It would be so much simpler if I was attracted to him. But nope, not even a heart flutter at his obvious flirting. “I…I don’t?—”

Angry, clear gray eyes meet mine from across the floor, and my chest constricts like I’ve just been caught doing something wrong. By the way Damon’s glaring at me, it looks like he thinks so too.

I place my hands on my hips and glare right back at him.

He lifts one brow in challenge. This man is absolutely infuriating. There’s something about Damon that has me losing my grip on my carefully constructed cheerful facade, and I find myself wanting to push him.

“Sure, give me your phone.” Carter hands it to me, and I punch my number in, ignoring the way the back of my neck is being branded by Damon’s piercing gaze.

I don’t look back. Instead, I smile up at Carter. Evil indeed.