Chapter 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 facade 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.