2. Piper
2
PIPER
D arcy tipped my face up. “Stop moving, or I’m going to get shadow all over your cheeks.”
I froze and swallowed the rest of my rant—for now. My roommate, bestie, and side hustle partner Darcy had been letting me go on and on about the parking garage fiasco with the devil named Mr. Forde while she did my make-up, but she wasn’t willing to let me sabotage her artistry. I was okay at make-up, but Darcy was a hobby make-up freak with a great eye. I needed her help for the night, seeing as I was slipping out of my usual jeans and into a cocktail dress.
She stepped back and lifted her glasses to squint at me. “I like it. Tell me what you think.”
“You mean I can finally look in the mirror now?” I joked.
“I’ll allow it. But just for a minute; you still need your fake lashes.”
I swiveled to check out her handiwork and gasped. “ Damn , you’re good!”
“Please,” she scoffed. “I had a perfect canvas.”
“No, I’m serious, maybe you missed your calling?” I leaned in closer to look at the cat-eye liner.
Darcy paused with the tube of lash glue in her hand. “Are you saying you don’t want me involved with Strapped?”
I laughed at her and poked her side. Just the mention of the start-up we were trying to build together made me smile. It was going to be amazing, once we finally got the funding in place. “Please. The only way there’s a future with Strapped is if you’re right there with me. I mean, you think I can handle accounting?” The concept—that was all me. And I could handle the creative side. But balancing the books? God, no. I was more than happy to leave that to people who actually knew what they were doing.
She waved the glue-prepped lashes through the air. “Ugh, you think I like it? Just because I’m currently an office manager doesn’t mean I enjoy all that stuff. Director of marketing? Now we’re talking. Accounting is the first thing I’m handing off if we get funding.”
“ When we get funding. Mercedes is going to love us, just you wait.”
Mercedes Horan was the perfect angel investor to bring our idea to life. Darcy was the one who’d pointed out that we were an all-woman business, and Mercedes loved women-centric businesses. She had the cash, we had the dream, and now all we needed was a way to meet and pitch her.
“I swear to you, the pedicure idea will work,” Darcy said as she pressed the lashes to my lid. “I know for a fact that Mercedes is a regular at Pedi-Pearls.”
I wanted to laugh at her, but I needed to keep still. “I’m sorry, but I’m not cornering the woman at the salon when she’s getting her claws done.”
“That’s a mistake, but what do I know?” Darcy stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Perfect! Now go put your dress on, and I’ll do your lipstick.”
I leaned closer to examine my face. “Wow, you did it again. Spiffed me right up.”
“You’re welcome. Now go get changed, Cinderella.”
I slipped on the black one-shoulder dress and strappy stilettoes, swiveling to check the front and back views in the mirror. I spent my life in comfortable clothing so I could always get the shot, but every now and then it was nice to feel like a girl again.
Who was I kidding? In this dress and make-up, I wasn’t just a girl, I was a certified vamp. But just for the night.
“Ta-da,” I walked into Darcy’s room and did a spin.
“Dayum, I think you’ve reached supermodel status. Who are we impressing tonight?”
I sighed. “The usual suspects. It’s Paul’s engagement party, so it’s family and friends from both sides.”
“Prentiss?”
I rolled my eyes at the mention of my mom’s husband. I refused to call him my stepfather because he didn’t deserve any sort of paternal recognition. How Paul had turned out as such a nice guy with a father like that was a mystery for the ages.
“Of course, the father of the groom will be in attendance. Can’t wait for him to corner me to brag about how he beat the golf pro the last time they played together.”
When my mom and Prentiss first got together back when I was in high school, I thought maybe we could all be a family. Paul, to give him credit, tried—but he was older than me and was already off in college, so our chances to get to know each other had been few and far between. As for his father…I’d hoped we’d be able to build a connection through golf. He loved the game, and I’d been playing since I was five, so I assumed we’d bond on the course. What actually happened was him trying to mansplain every hole and then winding up mad as hell when I’d crush his score. My impeccable game was just one of the many things the man came to hate about me.
“Ignore him. Try to find a cute guy to flirt with and enjoy the night. Just make sure he’s nothing like Matthew.”
I shuddered at the mention of my ex. “No thank you. I’m not in a flirting frame of mind.”
She crossed her arms and frowned at me. “Okay, then sit in a corner and be miserable.”
I grabbed my purse. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll try to be home soon, so save me a spot on the couch.”
“I’m telling you, you’re wasting a fabulous look,” she scolded me. “Take advantage of your hotness for a change.”
I held up my foot. “Do you see these shoes, woman? The only thing I’m taking advantage of is a chair .”
“Kick them off and dance! Live a little.”
I waved off her ridiculous suggestion and headed out the door to what was bound to be a long and annoying night.
Half an hour into the cocktail and hors d’oeuvres part of the engagement dinner, I was ready to duck into the ladies’ room and carve out a tunnel, Shawkshank Redemption -style, just to get out of here. It wasn’t that I didn’t like parties. Despite my bitching to Darcy, I did know how to have fun. But I was already stressed from the car debacle, and my mood wasn’t helped by the way Prentiss had started bragging at me the moment I’d arrived. My mom could barely get a word in edgewise. For my part, I didn’t bother trying. Prentiss never had any interest in what I had to say, anyway.
I excused myself to grab yet another drink and froze when I saw who was leaning against the bar like he owned it. An actual VIP who was a legend in his own mind and didn’t let anyone forget it.
What the hell was sportscar guy doing at my stepbrother’s engagement party? And why did he have to look so damn good? A perfectly fitted black suit, black shirt unbuttoned at the neck. I swear he had an aura that filled a room. The guys he was talking to were equally attractive, but the bosshole with the red car had something extra. A magnetism, if you were into the tall, dark, and jackass vibe.
At first, I was shocked to see him again. Then pissed off. Then, as I realized the opportunity I had at hand, I was elated. I’d already downed a glass and a half of champagne, which was enough liquid courage to stomp over to him and give him a piece of my mind.
I chalked up the twist in my stomach to nerves and nothing more. I would never, ever admit to being attracted to someone so awful.
“Excuse me,” I said, stepping in front of the handsome blond guy who’d been talking to Satan.
The group of men gathered with him turned to look at me, and he froze when he recognized me. I felt a surge of triumph.
“Yeah, it’s me, the victim of your shitty driving skills,” I glared at him.
Someone blew an “uh oh” whistle, and the three other men excused themselves when they saw my angry expression and clenched fists. But rather than looking appropriately rattled, or maybe even apologetic, Satan just arched an eyebrow and looked down his nose at me like I was a pesky server trying to steal his plate away. I’d hoped to catch him off guard, but his steely demeanor suggested that nothing threw this man off his game.
Well, that was about to change. He’d never met a woman like me.
“Well look at you, Piper,” he said. “You clean up well.”
“Save it,” I said, my frown deepening at him using my name like we were old friends. “Listen, I appreciate the oh-so-generous offer to fix the car you dented, but I refuse to admit I was in the wrong.”
“And why not?” he asked in a silky voice. “It’s not for insurance, since we’re handling it privately. I just want you to admit you made a mistake.”
“But I didn’t!” I sputtered, my hands flailing. “So why would I say anything like that?”
He leaned closer to me and gave me a wicked smile. “For me .”
Why did that grin do something to me? I hated him and his entitled attitude, but my body didn’t get the message. The way he was watching me made me feel downright fluttery, like I was a girl with a crush.
But no, I was a girl in a crash . A crash that absolutely wasn’t my fault.
I was about to go nuclear about his ego when a familiar voice rang out from behind me.
“Hey! I see two of my favorite people have finally met.”
My stepbrother leaned in to give me a kiss on the cheek, then slapped Satan on the back. Paul looked like a spiffed-up version of his usual self, his curly hair gelled into submission and in a sleek navy suit instead of his usual hoodie and jeans.
“Have you done introductions yet? Vincent Forde, Piper Doyle. Piper, Vincent,” he said, gesturing between us.
I frowned at him, then at the man I could now call out by name. His security goon kept calling him Mr. Forde, and yeah, I’d seen his name at the top of the building.
“But how do you know…” I pointed at Vincent.
“We were roommates at Cornell. He’s one of Dee’s Lost Boys.” He shook his head and smiled. “Seriously, I can’t believe it’s taken this long for my sis to meet the legendary Vincent Forde.”
I swallowed hard, and Vincent went a shade paler as I could tell he was thinking the same thing I was. It was Paul’s night, so we had to play nice. At least while there were witnesses.
“ Babe ,” Paul’s pretty but clearly stressed-out fiancée Chloe appeared beside him. She gave us a quick hello, then refocused on Paul. “We’re having a crisis! They forgot the shrimp appetizers, and you need to come yell at someone.”
He grimaced at us. “Duty calls. I’ll catch you guys in a bit!”
Vincent and I stared at each other in silence, probably trying to determine who was going to draw first blood.
“You were such a—” I began.
“Listen, about what happened—” Vincent said at the same moment. “You go.”
I took a step closer to him. “I was going to say you were incredibly rude this morning. Blame aside, it was an accident, and now that I’ve had a chance to check out the damage, a minor one.”
“Says the woman who drives a fifteen-year-old car,” he sniffed. “The damage to mine was considerable .”
“Well, that’s what you get for driving a delicate little egomaniac car that probably costs more than I’ll make in my lifetime.”
“Probably?” he smirked.
I gritted my teeth at him. “You are…”
“Correct?”
“Insufferable!” I hissed.
He fixed his gaze on me, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “Are you forgetting I’m paying for your repairs?”
“As you should; it was all your fault,” I huffed.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
I snorted at him. “You call that an apology?”
“I never said I was apologizing,” he shrugged and looked around the room, like he was bored with me and above it all…right up until he spotted something that made him flinch. “Oh fuck .”
I glanced over my shoulder to where he was looking and saw none other than supermodel Maya Russo swanning through the restaurant just outside the private dining room Paul had reserved for the event.
“Clearly, you’ve got your sights set on your latest conquest. I’ll leave you to it,” I fumed and started to back away.
“No, thank you. I’ve had my fill of that one.”
I frowned so hard I thought my face would break.
Vincent finally refocused on me. “She’s my ex, and if she sees me here, she’s going to glom on and not let go.”
“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem.” Now was my turn to smirk. I turned to walk away, but the sharp click of his shoes followed, like he wasn’t ready to let me escape just yet.
“Piper,” he said. “Just listen—if she spots me, pretend you’re my date. Consider it a favor.”
I sputtered out a laugh. Was this guy out of his freaking mind? There was no way I was getting sucked into his mess. “Please! Like I owe you any favors. Maybe I’ll run over to Maya and point you out. Give her a little nudge in your direction.”
Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned to find the ultimate floppy-haired, striped tie former frat boy grinning at me.
“Well hey there, Piper! I’m a friend of your daddy’s and he told me you’re quite the little lady golfer! I’m Beck Huntsman, by the way.”
He shoved his hand at me, and I gave it a quick shake while trying to hold back my gagging. Meanwhile, I could feel Vincent watching from behind me.
“Prentiss is married to my mother, he’s not my father,” I corrected.
“Right, right. Anyway, I’m a single digit handicap myself, but I won’t brag and tell you what it is,” Beck guffawed.
If I didn’t hate him the moment he opened his mouth, I did now.
“I’m an eight,” I said quickly, hoping that would be enough to shut him up. My handicap never wavered despite the fact I rarely played these days.
“You look more like a ten to me—that’s quite a dress.” He laughed at his own joke as his eyes raced down my body. “Anyway, I’m sitting with Prent and your mom during dinner, and I’ve got a seat saved just for you. I think we have a lot in common. Maybe we can schedule eighteen holes, and I can give you some of my favorite pointers?”
Huh—what about no?
Being trapped with Prentiss and this douche for the rest of the evening sounded like a double nightmare—and this after Paul had promised me I’d be seated nowhere near Prentiss. But I could see Prentiss watching us from off to the side. If I told this guy what I really thought of him, I’d be stuck getting lectured about it every time Prentiss saw me for at least the next few months. I was fumbling for the nicest, most unobjectionable way to say “Go to hell” when I felt a warm hand grasp my bare shoulder.
“Hi Brock, I’m Vincent Forde,” he said as he leaned over me to offer his hand. “I’m afraid Piper’s already got a seat at the table, right next to me. Isn’t that so… sweetheart ?”
I looked up at Vincent, half thankful he’d swooped in and half grumpy about what he was forcing me into. A meal with the most entitled, annoying, pompous man I’d ever met? Maybe sitting with Prentiss wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“Yup,” I said through gritted teeth, trying to force myself to smile. “That’s a fact.”
“My name is Beck ,” the guy corrected. “And sorry, man—I didn’t realize she was yours.”
My smile became that much more forced as I gagged internally at the guy talking about me like I was property.
Vincent ran his fingertips down the bare skin of my arm, and my breath hitched at the intimacy of it. He smiled at me, his blue eyes locked on mine, and I felt like I couldn’t inhale. “I wouldn’t say she’s mine . I think this beautiful creature just allows me into her orbit now and then.”
Hold on. Beautiful? He thought I was beautiful?
The corner of Vincent’s mouth kicked up as he studied my face, like he was taking a temperature read of what he’d just suggested. He finally looked back at Beck and laughed, which knocked me out of the momentary spell he’d cast over me.
“You have a great night, Brock…I mean, Beck!” Vincent said in a cheerful voice.
The golf prodigy slumped away, leaving me to face Vincent alone.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I insisted.
“You’re welcome.” He winked at me.
“I could’ve handled him!”
“And now you don’t have to,” he bowed. “Like I said, you’re welcome.”
I sputtered a string of incoherent sounds at him.
A waiter with a handheld gong signaled that everyone needed to find their seats for dinner.
“Showtime, sweetheart,” Vincent leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Let’s make this look good, for old Beckie-boy.”
He took my hand, and to my shock, it actually felt… nice .