Chapter Eleven
An endless amount of cheese, wine, cured meat, and flatbread, not to mention the previously ingested burgers and fries, finds us overstuffed lumps on the hotel room bed, watching Scrubs reruns at one in the morning.
We ’ d so far spent most of the night eating and laughing at JD, rather than being engaged in actual conversation. Though I did make him tell me about his meeting. It was a complete success, of course. The client hired him on the spot.
“ I can ’ t eat another bite,” Jeremy groans, rubbing his still-flat stomach.
“ Pussy. Pass me the flatbread.”
He chortles. “ I ’ ve never seen a woman eat so much. You rival me. How do you do it? How do you eat so much and stay so fit?”
“ You think I ’ m fit? ”
“ You know you ’ re fit. ”
“ Sexercise.”
“ Ha ha. ”
“ You should try it sometime. Oh, wait. That ’ s right. You ’ re crazy.”
“ Why? Because I won ’ t have sex?”
“ Yes. It can ’ t be so long since you ’ ve had it that you ’ ve forgotten how good it is.”
“ That ’ s not something you forget, right?”
“ Well, you clearly have. I don ’ t understand why.”
Jeremy shrugs. “ Sex complicates everything.”
“ Nope, not buying it. Sex doesn ’ t have to complicate anything. I want the story.”
“ What story?”
“ Oh, come on, Jer. You wanted to talk, to hang out. So talk.”
I settle back against the propped-up pillows, making myself comfortable, and Jeremy sighs.
“ Okay.” He scrunches up his features, rubbing a hand across his forehead before trailing it down his face. “ So, you know about Marti and her ‘ I ’ m not really a virgin and will sleep with anything that moves ’ story? ”
“ Wait, she wasn ’ t a virgin and had been fucking around?”
“ Yeah.”
“ You didn ’ t get to that part of the story.” I scowl, thinking about how someone could do that to Jeremy. I may have been overly promiscuous in high school and college, but I never cheated on anyone. “ That ’ s rough.”
“ Yeah. My trust in women went out the window after that.” He shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. “ My…mom had cancer at the time. My father worked nonstop to pay for all her medical bills, and my sister and I looked after her. It didn ’ t leave a lot of room for dating, and I didn ’ t really want to let anyone else in. So, after Marti, there wasn ’ t anything…long term.”
Max had explained about his wife, and the ramifications it had on his family, but it still hits just as hard coming from Jeremy. I have no words to offer in comfort. My chest tightens, and instead of rubbing the uncomfortable feeling away, I take Jeremy ’ s hand in mine, squeezing. He squeezes back, but releases my hand shortly after.
“ Wait. Is that what you meant by babysitting? You were looking after your mom?”
“ Yeah. I wasn ’ t going to abandon her to go to some stupid party. Anyway, my sister, she went off the deep end after Mom died, and it wasn ’ t long after that she got pregnant. My father was furious. It went against all of my parents ’ beliefs. He kicked her out of the house.”
“ What? While she was pregnant?” Jeremy gives a sharp nod, his jaw working. “ That…I didn ’ t see that coming.” That doesn ’ t sound like Max at all, and he conveniently left it out at his confessional dinner.
“ He became hard after…” He trails off. “ Anyway, Lydia left. Dropped out in her final year of high school . Not that she ’ d been going to class anyway. She got a crappy job and tried to clean up her life. She stayed with a friend for a while until we found her a place, but once my nephew was born, she couldn ’ t work. I got an extra part-time job to cover the costs. It was hard to schedule them around school hours, but I managed.”
“ That ’ s what happened between you and your father?”
He nods.
“ Okay, I get it. But where does the celibacy come in?”
“ College, more or less. I still worked two jobs supporting my sister, and with the course load, I barely had enough time for sleep, let alone women.”
“ Hold up. You haven ’ t had sex since college?”
“ Something like that. Women become too clingy, and I didn ’ t have time for any more drama in my life.”
“ Yeah, okay, that I can somewhat understand. Not the no sex. I ’ ll never understand that. But what about now? You don ’ t work twenty-four-seven; there ’ s plenty of time for sexing.”
“ True.”
“ But? ” I hedge.
“ I haven ’ t met the right woman.”
I roll my eyes at that. “ There are plenty of women who all think they ’ re right.” I snicker. “ It ’ s just sex, Jer. We don ’ t need a ring on our finger anymore to put out. Hell, you can go to any bar and there will be some inebriated woman throwing herself at anything with a pulse.”
“ Gee, thanks.”
“ You know what I mean. It ’ s not that hard to get no-strings-attached sex. Women can be just as commitment-phobic as men.”
“ Really? I hadn ’ t noticed.”
“ Ha ha. That ’ s irrelevant to me.”
“ Sure it is.”
“ My choice of field doesn ’ t exactly inspire commitment.”
Jeremy chortles. “ I guess you have a point.”
“ Besides, it ’ s the last thing I need or want. And we ’ re not talking about me.”
“ We should be.”
“ No, no. I want more.”
“ You ’ re at my disposal, remember?”
“ Really? You ’ re playing that card?”
“ You got my story. I want yours,” he says with a casual flair to his tone. But his stance says otherwise, and I watch his whole body move fractionally closer to mine like a magnet, slowly drawing nearer, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“ You want to hear my story? How the girl with big dreams fell so far from grace she decided to sell her soul to the devil?”
“ Yes. I want to hear it all, and don ’ t skip any of the gory details. You fascinate me.”
I scoff at that. “ It ’ s not such a complicated story or that fascinating. It ’ s rather…simple, really.” I pause, and he looks at me, still waiting. I sigh and continue. “ It was a few months after my nineteenth birthday—”
“ You were only nineteen?” he interrupts, his pitch two octaves higher.
“ Do you want to hear the story or not?”
Jeremy mimics zipping his mouth shut and sits back, waving a hand for me to continue.
“ My roommate and best friend, Laura, bought me tickets to my favorite band of all time, back then at least.”
“ What was the band?”
“ Lethal Vein.”
“ I haven ’ t heard of them.”
“ Alternative, though a bit more mainstream now. They were indie-rock gods way back when, but they have a pretty big cult following now. Everyone knows who Marcus Vein is.”
Jeremy just shakes his head, and I laugh.
“ Well, you are barely into women, so I thought you ’ d know one of the most eligible bachelors in Britain.”
“ Is that so? Wait, he ’ s British? ”
“ Mmm hmm. Anyway, it was at one of his concerts.” Jeremy ’ s body tenses, and I fight a smile. “ I sort of fell into the… position. ” Repeatedly.
I spend most of the next half hour telling Jeremy about my Whores R Us outfit and grand plan of bedding the lead singer. The concert and the way Marcus sang to me, that in itself was like sex. How my plans were thwarted, and then I stumbled upon his manager in the alley behind the club. His need for a professional on short notice, and his following proposition. I was too young and possibly a little too awestruck at the possibility of being too offended. Who am I kidding? I was totally dressed like a whore on purpose and was about to meet Marcus Vein. Or so I hoped.
“ Hold up.”
I smile, guessing what ’ s about to come out of his mouth.
“ You ran into the band ’ s less-than-stellar manager—your words—in an alley and trusted he wasn ’ t about to drug you and rape you?”
Bingo. “ Hardly. I had pepper spray and knew self-defense.”
“ Sure, yeah. Because that was going to be enough.”
“ Anyway…” I drag the word out, rolling my eyes. “ He led me back to their dressing room.”
“ So you actually met the singer?” His surprise was evident in his tone.
“ Where did you think I was leading with this?”
“ No idea. ”
I raise an eyebrow.
“ I guess I was thinking—”
“ That he raped me, and I turned to whoring to combat my guilt and fill the void, or because he stole my self-respect?”
Jeremy shakes his head. “ You should have been a drama student.”
“ I may have taken a few classes.” I admit.
“ No, that ’ s not quite what I was expecting. Maybe that you hooked up with one of the lesser-known members of the band. Or from the warm-up one. Go on.”
“ I don ’ t think Marcus was fooled, but it was clear I intrigued him.”
“ Vivienne, is it?”
A shiver runs up my spine, and I forget my own name. Marcus can call me whatever he wants as long as he says it like that. He somehow makes a simple word or name feel like silk sliding over your skin — soft, delicate, delectable.
“ Marcus. Or would you prefer Mr. Vein?” A coy, playful smile twists my lips, and inside I ’ m reeling. Where the fuck did that come from? His lips twitch with the hint of a smile, one side curling up a little more than the other. I can almost hear the words in his head as the hunger in his eyes glows while he continues to appraise me. You ’ ll do nicely.
He still doesn ’ t respond but drags his eyes from mine—how I managed to hold his gaze without visibly trembling or crumbling under the intensity, I don ’ t think I ’ ll ever know—and at a deliberate, snail ’ s pace, trails them along my body, not missing a millimeter of me. I know this because my skin feels scorched where he ’ s been.
I focus on keeping my breaths even, willing my heart not to visibly pound against my chest as he reaches my Manolos. The corner of his mouth twitches again, and the heat rises from my chest up my neck to pool in my cheeks.
“ And? ” Jeremy pulls me from the memory.
“ He took me back to his hotel room…”
The silence between us grows, the tension magnifying as we walk into the lobby and pass the concierge desk without a second glance from Marcus. My pulse burns through my body like lightning. Every few steps , Marcus tightens his fingers around mine, electrifying my nerve endings with the brush of his thumb.
Drunken bodies crash into Marcus in his haste to get us inside the elevator as they stumble out. The moment we enter, he releases my hand and presses the button for the top floor, then jabs hard on the close door button. Two hands appear between the metal doors, jamming them open before they can close, but whatever expression is on Marcus ’ s face brings the intruder up short. He stops instantly, and I look at the back of Marcus ’ s head to see the slight movement from side to side. The doors close again in the face of the man frozen in place, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape.
My thin veil of control over my body vanishes with the ding of the door closing. My heart loses all semblance of normality as Marcus turns around, his eyes blazing at me. Even from my peripheral vision, my chest visibly rises and falls unnaturally fast, and I miss the slight jerk of the elevator indicating our ascent has begun. Marcus has me up against the mirrored wall in a heartbeat. Before I can even blink, his lips crush against mine. I gasp, allowing him the access he so desperately seeks. He doesn ’ t miss a beat, his hands burying in my hair as he plunges his tongue into my mouth with all the passion I ’ d seen him wield a guitar with. My arms wrap around his neck tightly, lifting myself flush against him. My body responds to the onslaught before my brain can compute.
Marcus—fucking—Vein is kissing me with all the force of a freight train.
“ And we had lots and lots of sex. The end.” It just so happened to be the best sex of my young life. Un-fucking-believable. We still keep in contact, but I don ’ t tell Jeremy that tidbit.
Jeremy clears his throat. “ Right.”
I give him a wolfish grin.
“ Wait, how…what does that have to do with you now?”
“ His manager tried to pass me off as an escort. Marcus knew better, but I still woke to an obscene amount of money and a note on the dresser.” I smile, remembering the note. “ It sort of sealed my fate.”
“ I ’ m not following.”
“ I have expensive tastes—always have—but I cut myself off from my parents and their endless supply of money. We didn ’ t agree on my life choices.” I chuckle at the irony. “ Even before I began this life.”
“ Do they know about this one?”
“ God, no. I stopped talking to them when I left for college and didn ’ t pick the right major.”
“ You haven ’ t talked to either one of your parents in over ten years?”
I frown. Has it really been that long? “ Yeah, I guess. So there you have it. The opportunity presented itself, and I took it.”
“ And ran with it.”
“ Yup. I told you it wasn ’ t complicated.”
“ That easy, huh?”
“ No, not easy. Not even close. The pros outweighed the cons, but I did the hard yards, and now I ’ m reaping the rewards. I ’ m my own boss, my own man.” Most of the time.
“ Ever thought of doing anything else?”
“ I didn ’ t have a plan before.”
“ Nothing you wanted to do?”
“ Not really.”
“ Then why were you studying business?”
“ Mostly because it pissed off my parents, but I guess it interested me. I ’ ve always been good at getting what I want—reading people and knowing what makes them tick. It can be a lucrative way to make lots of money. Plus, men in suits. What ’ s not to love?”
Jeremy chuckles. “ So marketing was a logical choice.”
“ Pretty much. It was interesting enough to hold my attention.”
“ For a few years.”
“ Who ’ s to say if I would have been able to stick it out much longer anyway? Day-to-day was a struggle. I didn ’ t know what I was doing with my life—didn ’ t know what I wanted. Only that being dirt-poor sucked.”
Jeremy snorts, and I sigh, slouching down the bed, weary of all this talk. The past is exhausting.
“ I had everything given to me from infancy. I never had to work for anything. My parents bought my love from a young age—lot of good it did them. Friends were aplenty, all fake as a PETA clothing convention. So were the men.”
“ Fake or plentiful?”
“ Both.”
“ So why did you give it all up, as you say, when you had everything at your fingertips?”
“ But not on my terms. None of it was real. None of it meant anything.”
“ You wanted meaning?”
“ Ha ha. I just wanted real, you know?”
He nods.
“ And I didn ’ t want to be a monkey in a suit or a lab coat.” Jeremy raises his eyebrows in response, his eyes wide. I laugh. “ Shocking, huh? I was actually good at school with little effort. I had the proper motivation.” The look of confusion on Jeremy ’ s face has me going on. “ My father began bribing me at the age of five when he realized I was clever. I once got an A+ on a midterm. I received a Mercedes the next day. But once I realized the grand plan, the bigger picture—”
“ Which was?”
“ My dad wanted me to have some prestigious job, something high-profile, seeing as I was their only child, and he didn ’ t get the son he ’ d so desperately wanted. My mother, on the other hand, wanted me to marry wealthy. Sending me to an Ivy League school was the only thing they could agree on, so they applied behind my back. I got accepted to Yale, though I am sure it wasn ’ t solely on my 4.0 GPA.”
“ You could have done anything.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. He doesn ’ t get it. “ No, I couldn ’ t. My father refused to pay for anything that wouldn ’ t end in a doctorate, or the like. The trust fund wasn ’ t going to kick in until I was twenty-one, not that I wanted to use it. My only choice was to fly solo.”
“ So you flew the nest.”
“ I flew the nest. Not without a lot of rough landings, but I ’ m soaring now.”
He chuckles and shakes his head.
“ Be thankful I didn ’ t follow through with my marketing degree. You ’ d be out of a job,” I tease, ribbing him with my elbow.
“ I guess I can take comfort in the fact you aren ’ t after my job. Silver lining,” he mutters, staring past the television, seeming lost in thought.
“ Yeah, yeah.” I snuggle farther into the pillows and turn up the volume on the TV. “ No more about me, please. I haven ’ t talked this much about myself in…I never talk about myself.” Jeremy opens his mouth to speak, but I pull on his arm, bringing him down to my comfy level. “ Shh, this is my favorite episode. I love Brendan Fraser.”
“ This one? But—”
“ I know, I know.”
“ Are you…a crier?”
“ Pfft. No. ”
But not even twenty minutes into the episode sees Jeremy handing me a Kleenex to silence my sniffles. He bumps shoulders with me, and the familiar electrical current that usually follows Jeremy ’ s proximity runs the length of my body, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“ She does have a heart after all,” he whispers playfully in my ear.
“ So it would seem.”
And it ’ s beating a little too fast for comfort.