Destined To Fall (Reluctant lovers #1)

Chapter Ten

It ’ s six in the morning, and I ’ m well and truly up and going before my alarm has even buzzed, which is unheard of for me. My fingers jitter, and my feet tap incessantly as I ride the elevator down, forcing me to jog in place and flick my hands to dispel the pent-up tension burning in me. It ’ s been a hell of a week, one I wish I could forget, not least my impromptu dinner with Max and the way it ’ s plagued me ever since. I wasn ’ t equipped for the onslaught of information he so kindly bestowed on me, or the feels that would follow. I also wasn ’ t prepared to miss talking to Jeremy so much.

I need to run, for the wind to beat against my skin and hopefully clear my head. The elevator pings open, and I ’ m out in a flash, putting my earbuds in before stepping into the last of the cool July air. I raise my face sky-high, closing my eyes and taking in a deep breath, letting it fuel my limbs. I take one more lungful before beginning the brisk jog to Columbus Park.

I just want to forget.

A smile spreads across my face as I approach the archway. The sun flaming across the glistening waterfront , covers the buildings in a bright glow and illuminates the stone steps. It ’ s one of my favorite places in Boston, but the moment I descend the steps and clear the arch, my sanctuary is tainted.

Jeremy.

My heart stills, then catapults against my ribs over and over again. I watch, shocked into atrophy as Jeremy lifts his head and looks straight at me, like he ’ s been waiting for me. The leg he was stretching is all but forgotten, his eyes a blaze of emotion. Anger, elation, relief, disappointment, desire—all there, fighting for supremacy.

What the hell is he doing here? Making my life miserable, so it would seem, because if the last week has taught me anything, it ’ s that nothing is coincidental, and this is no happenstance. I don ’ t stop to ask. Instead, I pull my gaze from his and run in the opposite direction from where he ’ s standing.

Fuck warming up . Instead of clearing my head, I ’ m literally running from my problems. I pick up my pace, the sound of my footfalls replacing the racing of my heart in my ears, but it ’ s not long before I hear a second set right behind me. Goddamn it .

As Jeremy comes up beside me, I make a show of adjusting my ear buds and turn up the volume, hoping the message comes across loud and clear.

Leave. Me. Alone.

It doesn ’ t. He ’ s still easily keeping pace with me, his muscular legs covering more distance than mine, and his chest rises and falls evenly. I ’ m about to break a sweat, and Jeremy looks like he ’ s out for a friendly stroll. He raises an eyebrow when he catches me looking sideways at him, my limbs losing some of their momentum in the process. I snap my attention completely forward, refusing to acknowledge how tight his gray T-shirt is and how it showcases all the hard lines of his body, or how low his black sweats hang on his hips. Or the fact that my racing heart has little to do with the speed at which I ’ m running, and everything to do with the fine specimen beside me.

I pick up my feet, increasing my speed until I ’ m running full throttle, huffing and puffing hard. For forty-odd minutes I run flat out, with Jeremy still right beside me, a silent, burning presence I can ’ t shake. Neither one of us gives an inch or breathes a word. He doesn ’ t try to stop me or seem to want to chat. It confuses me. Why is he here, then? I chance a quick sideways glance at Jeremy, getting immense satisfaction when I finally see perspiration dot his brow. He ’ s working up a sweat, and it ’ s hot as hell.

I hit my limit. My legs feel like they ’ re going to conk out at any minute, and I ’ ve had enough of this silent dance we seem to be conducting. Not one to quit first, I run harder, pushing beyond that last reserve in a vain attempt to lose Jeremy. I know I ’ m going to regret the pain later and curse my stubborn ass. But he speeds up beside me, seemingly without effort, infuriating me more.

“ Goddamn it,” I puff. “ I can ’ t do this anymore,” I huff out, stumbling to a stop and crouching forward to rest my hands on my knees. I gasp for breath, raggedly drawing in every greedy mouthful I can before I have the strength to look up and face Jeremy, my legs a wobbly, jelly mess. It ’ s all I can do to keep from collapsing on the footpath. When I do finally look up, he ’ s gone; not even a dust cloud in his wake. I frown, unsure if it ’ s relief or disappointment I ’ m feeling.

I spend the long and painful walk home lost in my head. The appetite that usually accompanies my Sunday ritual is decidedly absent. I can ’ t bring myself to contemplate food right now, with every muscle in my body burning in protest and this heavy, uncomfortable sensation in the pit of my stomach.

I startle awake to the buzzing of my cell, groaning as I raise my head from its smooshed position against the sofa. I slide my phone out of the armband in time to swipe answer, cringing as Laura screeches down the line.

“ Hey, hooker. ”

“ Laura, what ’ s up? ”

“ You okay? You sound a little off.”

“ No, I ’ m fine. ”

“ Were you asleep?”

“ No…” I pull the phone away to see I passed out for over two hours. Oops . “ What did you call for?”

“ Are you sick?”

“ God. No, I ’ m fine. ”

“ Okay, okay. I rang because you haven ’ t been checking your answering machine. Is it full?”

I look at the blinking lights and see she ’ s right. “ Why? That ’ s your job.” I make a mental note to delete them as soon as I get off the couch.

“ Not this week, it isn ’ t. Anyway, as your awesome personal assistant, website designer extraordinaire, sexy bitch, best—”

“ Get to the point, Law.”

“ Gee, Vee, I think those G-bangers you sport are getting a little tight. You got a new client request.”

“ I did? When?”

“ Yesterday, but officially this morning .”

“ Explain.”

“ Well, it ’ s been a while since we ’ ve had a new client request that hasn ’ t been word of mouth, and I couldn ’ t find the updated forms—they must be on my other computer—so I sent the old one we made, and he filled it out almost instantly.”

“ What old form? You ’ re losing your touch,” I tease. It ’ s been forever since I ’ ve even looked at the website or found a new client through it. It must be a good six months, or longer.

“ Yeah, I know,” she grumbles. “ It ’ s wordier than the new one we updated, but he passed with flying colors—even had medical records on hand. One hundred percent clean and fit as a fiddle.”

“ That ’ s…odd.”

“ I know, right? Normally we have to wait for the clean bill of health before we can proceed.”

“ You ’ ve already booked me in, haven ’ t you?”

“ Yup. I thought you could do with some more fresh blood . Mix it up a little.”

“ Who is he?”

“ He goes by the name Jay, and he ’ s a mortgage broker, single. I forget his age, though. Twenty-something, younger than you ’ ve had in a while. I think you ’ ll like this one.”

“ Interesting. When?”

“ Tonight.”

“ Tonight?”

“ He checks out, and you ’ re free. No time like the present.”

I groan. “ Text me the details. I ’ m going back to sleep.”

Laura ’ s chuckling is the last sound I hear before hanging up and staggering to my feet. What was I saying just the other day about answering to no one and controlling my own life?

I detour through the kitchen to grab a bottle of H 2 0, the blinking light on my landline making me pause. I can ’ t bring myself to listen to them, knowing whom the majority came from. If it was important, they would have contacted Laura. I sigh and hit delete on the machine before making my way to bed. New client means A-game, which means I need sleep. Here ’ s hoping my body magically fixes itself while I snooze, and maybe my head, too. It definitely needs a new distraction.

I knock on the hotel room door as I have done numerous times before. Even still, I always get that nervous, not-quite-uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. New clients are always… new . The unknown never ceases to make my heart race just that little bit more.

I hold my breath as the door slowly opens, my mind and body racing at the possibility of what ’ s on the other side, but I was not expecting this.

All the breath escapes me as I come face to face with Jeremy. My eyes widen and my mouth falls open. I tighten my coat around me to hide my already hidden self.

“ Vivienne. ” His voice purrs with a deep, warm rumble that has every one of my nerve endings standing at attention.

“ Jer…” His name gets stuck on the way out. Crap . I try to subtly clear my throat. “ What are you doing here?”

My mind ’ s whirling a mile a minute. Am I at the wrong room? No. I don ’ t think this is the wrong room at all. My eyes narrow as realization dawns on me. “ What am I doing here?”

The corner of his sinful mouth twitches with just a hint of amusement. “ Business?” Smart. Friggin ’ . Ass.

“ When?”

“ When what?” The amusement still colors his tone, but there ’ s something else I can ’ t make out. I refuse to play into his dumb act, and his lip twitches again. “ When did I find out? How ’ bout you step inside, and we can…talk.”

Son of a bitch.

Jeremy steps aside, opening the door wider, and I brush past him, making sure my hip grazes the front of his jeans, taking great satisfaction at his sharp intake of breath as I enter the room.

“ Drink? ” he asks, closing the door behind me but making no move to follow me in further.

“ Yes. ” I run my fingers along the edge of the bed, my thoughts a chaotic mess. “ Make it a double.”

It ’ s a nice room, consisting mostly of the white king-size bed. It has a subtle masculine feel to it. There ’ s a dark wooden headboard, matching desk, bedside tables, and television cabinet, with gray walls, carpet, linen accents, and a silver armchair in the far corner opposite the en suite door. The room ’ s a decent size, yet it feels small with only the two of us in it. The two of us and a big-ass bed.

I turn in time to catch Jeremy ’ s lip curve, fighting a grin as he moves to the minibar to fix us both a drink.

“ Why am I here, Jeremy? And how am I here? Or should I call you Jay now?” J for Jeremy? That was a clever touch.

“ I couldn ’ t risk you not turning up.” He shrugs, unapologetic.

I raise a brow in response, and he sighs, handing me my drink. “ Sit, and we can talk.”

“ Thank you, but I ’ ll stand.”

“ Suit yourself.”

He sits on the edge of the bed, his attention focused on the drink in his hand. After a few moments he takes a sip, returning his gaze to me. “ I confronted my father after you walked out on me.”

“ I heard.”

Jeremy ’ s forehead furrows, and his eyes narrow. “ Yes, well, he refused to say a word. Not one single word.” Not surprising . “ I waited till he left for a meeting and riffled through his office.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“ I found your card in his wallet.”

I still and say nothing. Jeremy doesn ’ t continue. Instead, he looks at me expectantly, but I have nothing to add.

“ You seemed to be avoiding me, or unavailable for social calls, so I thought I ’ d arrange a business one, seeing as it seems to be the only way to get your attention.”

“ What was this morning, and how did you know where to find me?”

“ You mentioned how you run every Sunday morning.” He shrugs. “ It was an educated guess. I didn ’ t know you ’ d be there, but I hoped I ’ d bump into you somewhere along the way. Not really sure why. I guess I was deciding whether to go through with tonight or not.”

“ To go through with tonight?” I shake my head, unwilling to make sense of what he ’ s saying. “ How long have you known, what I am, what I do?”

“ From almost the beginning, I think I had suspicions. Little things you ’ d say or do. You weren ’ t exactly subtle.” His mouth curls up at the ends, but seeming to think better of it, he tones down his grin.

From the beginning? I turn away, hiding my face as I work through what he ’ s telling me, and down my drink. I know I was never subtle. It ’ s not in my nature. I ’ d hoped at one point he ’ d put it together and disappear, but he didn ’ t. When did that change, and I became the one being played?

“ So, it ’ s all been an act? Everything was a lie? You just wanted a free ride? Something to tell the boys at the bar?”

“ No,” he says quietly.

I put down my empty glass and stand straighter. After all, I am on the clock. Slowly, I undo the belt around my waist, letting the ties fall to the side. Jeremy ’ s eyes go wide, and his mouth opens and closes before he can look me in the eye. I can ’ t make out the thoughts playing on his face. Is it disappointment? Resignation? Hurt? Some mix of all three? The blaze of desire is definitely among them.

“ Vivienne. What …what are you doing?”

“ My job.” The words have never tasted so vile in all the years I ’ ve done this.

“ Stop.” It lacks the demand he clearly intends. My coat slowly falls to the floor at my feet, revealing the violet and black corset, panties, and bra set with thigh-high lace-top nylons attached to a garter belt. I went all out. “ Vivienne. ”

“This is what you wanted, right? What you paid for. Me at your disposal, at your every whim.”

“ You ’ re right. I do want you at my disposal.”

I nod, unable to speak, and begin undoing the ribbon on my corset.

“ To talk to.”

“ Sure. With my hands or my tongue?”

“ Vivienne, I ’ m not having sex with you.”

“ Why? Because I ’ m a whore?” That smarts more than it should.

“ No. ” He shakes his head to emphasize his point. “ I ’ m not having sex with you because…I ’ m…I ’ m…”

“ You ’ re what? Too good for me?”

“ Celibate. ”

“ Wait, what?”

“ I ’ m celibate. ”

I stare at him , open-mouthed while the words seep in. He once said he didn ’ t do casual sex, but no sex? “ No fucking way. You ’ re pulling my leg.”

He shakes his head.

“ But look at you.”

He grins. “ And? ”

“ You ’ re young, fit, and…” tempting .

He raises an eyebrow.

“ Are you deformed?”

“ No,” he snorts.

“ Have a disease? Can ’ t get it up? Are you secretly a Ken doll? Something must be wrong with you.”

He laughs out loud, the sound deep and hearty. “ No, no, and no.”

“ I don ’ t believe you. Let me see for myself.” I make a move toward him, fighting a grin of my own, and he shakes his head furiously. “ I ’ ll be gentle…”

“ Now why don ’ t I believe you?” He chuckles again, but his eyes widen, and his whole body goes rigid.

“ Spoilsport.” I raise my hands in surrender, crossing them over my chest, and smile. It dies along with my jovial mood, and I sigh, resigned. “ So talk.”

“ You ’ re an escort?”

I nod.

“ For sex? ”

“ Not strictly speaking.”

“ What does that mean?”

“ Not always. My full services are expensive. Sometimes I ’ m just a pretty accessory.”

He frowns. “ And my father, what about him?”

I stop breathing. “ What about him?”

“ He ’ s a client?” He pauses, watching me intently, but I refuse to give anything away. “ For sex or…business?”

I say nothing.

“ Which one is it, Viv?” There ’ s a desperation to his tone.

“ Sex is my business. It ’ s all business.”

“ Damn it.” He bounds off the bed, his agitation radiating out of him as he paces.

“ What do you want from me? You went to all this trouble to talk about your father? Really?”

“ I need to know what ’ s going on between you two.”

“ Why? You won ’ t sleep with me, so what difference does it make? Why do you even care who or what he ’ s doing? In your own words, you and your father have next to no relationship. Why do both of you insist on knowing every freaking detail about each other but refuse to talk?”

“ He asked you about us?”

“ There isn ’ t an us .” His eyes narrow at that. “ But yes, and like with you, I refused to tell him anything. Not that there was anything to tell,” I mutter. “ I can ’ t give you the answers you want. I can ’ t give you anything. Why am I even here?”

“ You ’ ve given me a glimpse of what ’ s underneath.”

“ Fancy underwear? I can take it all off and give you more than a glimpse.”

“ No! God, Vivienne. Why does everything have to be about sex? I ’ m talking about the real you.”

I laugh, but it sounds stilted. “ What you see is what you get.” Gesturing to my elaborate ensemble. “ I ’ m not a complicated being, Jer. I ’ m not a puzzle you need to solve. There ’ s nothing to me.”

“ I ’ ve seen differently.”

I roll my eyes. “ So I have a penchant for art. I have expensive tastes and like pretty things. It ’ s a lifestyle choice. I chose this. Simple.”

“ That simple?”

“ Yeah, I ’ m that simple.”

Silence.

With no response from Jeremy, seemingly ending the current conversation, I ’ m at a loss as to the etiquette here and what to do. I simply stare at him. And wait. My heart beats hard against my chest, making it painfully obvious as each second ticks by. Jeremy is stoic. The only evidence he ’ s not in some catatonic form of shock are his eyes and the swirl of emotion in them.

“ Okay.” Jeremy finally breaks the heavy silence with one meaningless word.

“ Okay? That ’ s all I get?”

“ Okay, I agree.”

“ To what? My career choice? Like you ’ d have a say otherwise.”

“ No, I wouldn ’ t try to make you stop. I mean , I ’ ll take you at face value.”

“ Face value? What does that even mean?”

“ I ’ ll take you as you are.”

Oh. “ I ’ d rather you just take me, and then I can be on my merry way.”

Jeremy rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “ But, seeing as you are on the clock...” He gives me an impish grin, and I raise an eyebrow. “ Ha. Nothing like that.”

“ You just suck the fun out of life, don ’ t you?”

He smiles, ignoring me, and walks over to one side of the bed, rummaging through a duffel bag.

“ What are you—”

“ Ah! Here.” He throws something gray and bulky at me. “ Put that on.”

I pull it away to see it ’ s a BU sweatshirt.

“ And sit.” He flops on the bed, then shuffles up to lean against the headboard and pats the space beside him.

I narrow my eyes at him.

“ I said I wanted to talk. So let ’ s hang out.”

“ Hang out?”

“ I just want to be with you—spend some time with you.”

“ I don ’ t understand you.”

“ I don ’ t need to have sex to have a connection with someone.”

“ I don ’ t have sex to connect with someone.”

“ I guess we agree on that,” he says with a wry smile.

“ Maybe, but it ’ s beside the point. I ’ m not staying.”

“ Why not?”

“ Because this is ridiculous.”

“ What is?”

“ This.” I wave my hand around the room, indicating the whole damn scenario.

“ What? We can ’ t be friends? Hang out, albeit in a hotel room?”

“ No, we can ’ t be friends and hang out.” That ’ s crazy. He ’ s crazy.

“ Do you find me that irresistible?”

I laugh, the challenge in his eyes plain. “ Coming from the one who ’ s trying to cover me up, that ’ s rich.”

“ I know my limits.” He grins. “ Do you?”

I scoff. “ I have no limits.”

“ So, it ’ s settled. We hang out. I ’ ll order in, we can binge watch crap cable—”

“ Jeremy.”

“ Vivienne. ”

“ You realize you are paying for my time, right?”

His grin falters as my words hit their unintended target. “ I do. I read the fine print. No refunds. Did you draft the paperwork?”

“ You read it? All of it?” He nods, and I crinkle my nose. “ Laura sent you the long-winded version. Sorry. But no, the legal mumbo-jumbo was Laura.”

“ Laura? ”

“ My assistant, slash pimp, slash best friend, slash pain in my ass.” Her words from earlier come back to haunt me. I think you ’ ll like this one. Ha ha. Does she suspect something?

He chuckles at that. “ The one from BU?”

“ Yeah, pre-law. Now she busts other people ’ s balls, not just my own.” Not that she has to work. I pay her well enough to work for me, but she likes the cut-throatiness of lawyering.

“ You paid for this degree. I might as well use it. Besides, being your bitch doesn ’ t take up enough time nowadays. What would I do all day if I didn ’ t work? Twiddle my thumbs? Exercise? Ha, please. No thank you.”

Jeremy pats the space beside him again, his smile returning and his eyes still challenging.

I sigh, too curious for my own good, and his daring gaze too infuriating to ignore. “ You got shorts or something to go with this, or is my ass on show okay?”

I bite my lip to stifle my laugh as Jeremy ’ s gaze drops to my shoes and slowly traverses the length of my legs, lingering at relevant points before reaching my face once more. He ’ s undeniably attracted to me, that much is crystal clear, but he refuses to act on it. And he thinks I ’ m a puzzle.

He riffles through his bag again, pulls out a pair of navy running shorts, and throws them to me with a grin. I make a show of shimmying into them, unable to help myself, and I slip the sweatshirt on, undoing my corset underneath. I lob it at Jeremy ’ s head, and he chuckles, catching it effortlessly.

“ How do women wear these?” He frowns, taking in all the bone work.

I shrug. “ With ease. It ’ s become a second skin. Besides, I ’ m not normally in it for lengthy periods of time or lounging about on beds.” I chuckle at the slight pink tinge of his cheeks. “ Friends, seriously?”

“ Friends.” He nods, seemingly more to himself than to me. “ It ’ s not like we can be anything else,” he says under his breath.

I chortle. “ What else were we going to be?”

“ Will you sit down already? I ’ m starving, and we ’ re missing the beginning of The Walking Dead .”

I crawl on the bed and flop beside him, still laughing. “ Whatever. But I ’ m taking control of the remote.”

“ I ’ m going to regret this, aren ’ t I? ”

“ Oh, most definitely.”