Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHLOE
L iam pulls me into the elevator. His hand has been in mine almost all night, and when he suddenly lets go, I feel a surprising pang of disappointment.
I expect other party goers to join us, but the elevator door closes, leaving us alone together. An inexplicable flutter of nerves courses through me.
He faces me, leaning against the gold railing on the back wall of the fancy wood-paneled elevator, softly lit by sconces. He looks effortlessly classy in his suit and tie, and the spicy scent of his cologne draws me closer to him. The faint scar etched on his temple catches my eye again, making me wonder about the past wounds that have led him to keep people at a safe distance.
Yet, the distance between us doesn’t feel particularly safe right now. In this confined space, his proximity stirs an unexpected thrill of anticipation within me.
“We only need to make an appearance,” he murmurs in a low voice. “Then we can leave.”
To our separate residences, I assume. But as I search his warm brown eyes, I find myself wondering if he has something more in mind. My thoughts have been swirling all night, wondering.
His whisper in my ear, telling me I’m beautiful . His fingers laced through mine in the dark theater… Those moments had no audience; they were just between us.
Tonight is all about thrills and fantasy, and perhaps we’re simply playing our roles a little too well. Surely, that’s it.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Liam reaches out to my bare shoulder. “Your strap is about to fall off.” His fingers caress my skin lightly as he pushes my dental-floss thin shoulder strap higher up.
I cannot breathe. He doesn’t break eye contact with me. I stare up at him, only inches away, and the tension is palpable.
I want him to push me up against the wall and kiss me. The thought enters my mind, unbidden and highly inappropriate.
But the elevator dings, snapping me back to reality. I’ve clearly watched too many chick flicks, I rationalize.
Liam steps back and takes my hand again, leading me out of the elevator onto an expansive rooftop terrace. I hear the beat of sexy pop music and the murmur of people mingling.
Beautifully dressed partygoers are milling about and gathered around fire pits on luxurious white lounge seating, bathed in purple accent lighting. The whole scene is sexy as hell.
There’s a large, lighted swimming pool in the middle of the terrace and, as we approach, I see something floating in the water.
We weave around someone obscuring my view and then I see it—a man, floating face down in the middle of the pool. Motionless.
Bright red blood clouds the water all around him.
My heart jumps in shock and I recoil, my hand breaking out of Liam’s grip.
But just as quickly, I realize that it’s fake. The dead guy is just a gimmick. Straight out of a scene in the movie, I remember now. The unsuspecting victim was discarded in the pool after a vampire got him.
I release a breath as Liam chuckles, realizing I was startled. He backtracks to stand next to me, surveying the pool scene.
As I'm trying to steady my racing heart, Liam slips his arm around my waist, causing it to beat even faster at his touch.
“You know.” He leans over to my ear. “That vampire didn’t do a very good job finishing his meal.”
I chuckle, realizing he’s right. “He must have just needed a snack,” I muse.
Liam nods, surveying the leftovers in the pool. Then he feigns a sigh. “Well, I’m thirsty. Let’s get our own drinks.” He motions to the bar.
I smile, enjoying his playfulness.
Liam doesn’t break contact with me for even a minute. He is holding my hand or has his arm wrapped around my waist as he makes the rounds, saying hello to the movie cast and crew and other VIPs at the party. I shake a lot of hands, but I don’t have to say much other than my name. I enjoy watching him schmooze. He is charismatic and it’s easy for him. He’s also efficient, not spending more than a handful of minutes in one spot. I can tell he doesn’t love making small talk and playing the social game, but he’s very good at it.
The fact that he is tall, dark, and handsome doesn’t hurt either. Several women are especially flirty with him. I notice their eyes roaming his lean, muscular frame, though he seems unaffected by it.
I am armor for him now, I think. His shield to make it even more difficult for women to connect with him—and hurt him. Maybe this arrangement will make things worse for his ability to let his guard down and find real love.
I am torn, wondering again if this charade was a bad idea as I recognize the thinly masked jealousy in other women’s eyes as they size me up.
However, another part of me is enjoying myself, especially when Liam wraps his arm around my waist. It isn’t the worst job, pretending to be the girlfriend of a handsome celebrity.
I’m on my third drink when Liam leads me away from a cackling group of actresses who barely acknowledged my existence. They only had eyes for Liam.
“I think I’ve paid my social dues tonight. Wanna get out of here?” His dark eyes search mine, and his tone carries a hint of suggestiveness that excites me—or at least, I think it might. He may have G-rated plans for us after the party, but maybe not. There’s no way I can think logically about boundaries between us right now. Especially not three drinks in, feeling all warm and happy.
I hesitate. I should have been mentally preparing for this moment instead of gawking at how sexy and sophisticated he is all night. I decide to stall.
“Mind if I go check out the view first?” I nod toward the glass railing. We made several laps around the pool to socialize but we haven’t ventured close to the rooftop edge yet.
“Let’s do it.” He smiles, inviting himself along.
I’m glad he does.
My hand still in his, he leads me away from the poolside crowd towards the edge of the terrace. There are scattered couches for lounging and tall decorative plants around the perimeter of the space, also accented dramatically with purple lights.
But this part of the rooftop feels deserted, with only a few other couples taking in the view. He gently pulls me a healthy distance away from them, out of their earshot. As we arrive at the glass railing, and he drops my hand. I’ve been attached to him all night and I’m surprised to suddenly feel naked without the warmth of his hand.
I pull my mind away from the thought of his touch and survey the million tiny, twinkling lights of the city. The ocean is to one side, where it looks like the whole world drops off into pitch black.
I feel a soft, cool wind blowing in from the water. I grasp my forearms as they break out with goosebumps.
“Take my jacket.” Liam quickly peels off his suit coat.
I smile, amused. “More points for chivalry.” He can certainly lay on the charm when he wants to. Is this all for show? I desperately wish I could read his mind right now.
I accept his offer and he drapes his coat over my shoulders. I feel instantly warmer, and I enjoy the smell of his whiskey-scented cologne on his jacket.
“I want you to be comfortable,” he says softly, leaning one hand on the railing and positioning himself to face me, as if he were more interested in watching me than the night sky.
I chuckle, turning toward him and narrowing my eyes. “I don’t think you do.”
He tilts his head, intrigued. “How so?”
“I think you like to make me sweat.” Immediately, I regret the suggestive choice of words, but he gets my meaning.
He laughs, confirming my suspicions. Then he bites the side of his bottom lip as he looks at me, mulling over my words. I can practically see the thoughts racing behind his eyes, but I can’t decipher them. Those damn butterflies in my gut are churning.
When he speaks, his voice is low and challenging. “I think you’re tired of being comfortable, Chloe."
His gaze is intense, hinting at something deeper. As if he’s suggesting that I want him to make my heart race like this.
My breath catches. The tension between us is charged, and I can’t stand it any longer.
I look away, back out at the view, and release the breath I’ve bottled up. “So…” I try to change the subject. “The movie was good,” I say flatly, mindlessly. I know that he knows I’m just talking to talk at this point.
“Yeah, I think I have bruises on my arm from how much it moved you.” He chuckles.
I laugh, too, my nervous energy dissipating as I remember how I clung to his bicep—purely because it was there, of course—during most of the movie, trying to avoid watching the bloodbath on the screen.
“So, why the distaste for horror movies?” he asks curiously. “Your job is to fight people’s real-life monsters, right?”
“I’m not a shrink, but it can get dark with clients.” I shrug. “I’ve heard some really messed up things. It’s hard for me to tolerate seeing more suffering when I’m off the clock, and horror movies are all pain and suffering.”
I search his eyes, wondering if he understands.
He looks at me earnestly. “You know you’re a superhero, Chloe.”
I let out a soft laugh. I wasn’t expecting that at all.
“I’m serious. For what you do for people like my mom. It’s amazing.” The way he’s looking at me, I can see that he is serious.
“Well, too bad my superpowers don’t work on you.”
He studies me for a long moment. “I think they do.”
Air locks in my throat.
What the hell does he mean by that?
Once more, I’m caught in his gravitational pull. I can’t look away. His gaze is mesmerizing, drawing me in. There is something more here; there must be. The way he’s looking at me—this can’t all be fantasy, can it?
I finally tear myself away from his captivating eyes. I need to breathe. I need a moment to catch my breath, to clear my head. Why does he have this effect on me?
“Actually,” I say, turning back to face him, “I think I’m a deterrent to other women for you.”
He looks puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that our arrangement might hinder your chances of finding real love. Some women are clearly interested, but you’re unavailable now.” He knows I’m referring to the flirtatious women during his social rounds.
He smiles confidently. “I disagree. Don’t women want what they can’t have?” He gives me a knowing smirk, teasing me.
He’s got me there. He’s not wrong. There’s a reckless, pleasure-hungry part of me that wants him, but I can’t have him—not in any real way. I’m in the same boat as all those other women.
Liam’s smile widens, as if he can read my mind. “I think our public displays of affection make me more desirable,” he reasons.
“How so?” I play dumb.
He looks at me with a dark, intent gaze, nodding toward the poolside, where a few women are casting envious glances our way. “They all want to be you.”
My stomach flips. He’s impossibly sexy.
“How do you feel about a little more PDA?” he asks, his eyes smoldering with intent.
I swallow hard. “Like what?”
He grins, leaning forward until we’re cheek to cheek. His whisper tickles my ear, sending a thrill down my spine. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
He pulls back to gauge my reaction. I don’t know what he plans, but I’m caught up in his spell. I don’t want the fantasy to end. My heart hammers in my chest and he’s right—I don’t want to feel comfortable. He makes me feel tingly and alive, and I want more.
I nod, breathless.
Liam leans forward again and I feel his breath on my neck. Suddenly, he kisses the sensitive skin there and I feel a wave of heat, melting me. His arms wrap around me, and his kisses continue. I shiver with pleasure, grasping onto the fabric of his shirt as I feel weak.
His kisses up my neck are slow and wet now, and it’s driving me wild. I want to moan but I hold myself back.
Suddenly, a man’s voice intrudes into our two-person world.
“Okay, get a room, guys,” Bill, Liam’s producer friend, is in front of us and Liam breaks away from me. “I hate to interrupt but we have a deal to discuss.”
“Your timing is awful, Bill,” Liam says, his voice flat and clearly annoyed at the interruption. My stomach flutters, signaling its delight that Liam was enjoying our PDA just as much as I was.
“It’ll just take a minute. People are waiting,” Bill nods to the other side of the terrace.
Liam looks at me as if asking permission.
“Go.” I smile. “I’d like to freshen up anyway,” I reassure him.
A fleeting, curious expression crosses Liam's face before it quickly fades. I suspect that my reasons for wanting to freshen up might have piqued his interest, perhaps leaving him to wonder if he'd affected me that much.
I won’t volunteer that information but—damn. He had an effect.
“I’ll find you in a few minutes then.” Liam tries to straighten his jacket over my shoulders, which is askew after our sexy encounter.
“Here.” I pull the jacket off and hand it back to him. “I’m warm now.” I realize the subtext as it comes out of my mouth, but it’s not untrue. He did warm me up.
A corner of his mouth quirks up. “Good, I’m glad I could help.”
I clutch the edge of the sink. I’m glad I’m the only woman in the glitzy, expansive powder room that’s bigger than my office.
I frown at my reflection in the mirror. What are you doing?
The entire situation with Liam has gone off the rails. I’ve lost control and he knows it. He’s reveling in it.
Part of me is too, which scares me.
I’m fake dating an emotionally unavailable man and I’m crushing on him. There’s no doubt about that now. Not to mention, all my training on professional boundaries has gone out the window. Liam is still my client, in a way, and my feelings are far from professional.
I straighten up as another woman walks into the bathroom. I quickly busy myself by tucking a flyaway hair back into my updo.
The woman disappears into a connecting room with toilet stalls, well, rooms, really.
I look back at my reflection and steel myself, rationalizing that we haven’t blatantly crossed any lines. Our behavior has been completely explainable within the context of our agreement. I didn’t even consider PDA terms when I agreed to this, but it makes sense. I just need to keep my own feelings in check.
This isn’t real , I remind myself.
I stand at the scene of the neck kisses, enjoying the night city view and remembering the feeling of Liam’s lips against my skin.
They are just memories. Just thoughts , I tell myself. They are not hurting anything. I just need to stop myself from doing anything that isn’t part of our public relationship deal.
Liam is still immersed in conversation with Bill and a few other men on the far side of the rooftop terrace.
The temperature is dropping and I’m getting cold again. I rub my arms.
“Beautiful view, huh?”
I whip around at the gravelly voice and see a tall, beefy man with wavy blond hair approaching, holding two drinks.
“Yes, it is…”
“I’m Liam’s friend, Patrick.” He gives me a bright, white grin. “For you,” he says, handing me a glass of white wine. I don’t need another, but I take it to be polite.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Chloe.” I extend my hand.
“I know. You’ve caused quite a stir tonight.”
A stir? I suppose our PDA was noticed by more than a few women, or else their gossip is spreading like wildfire.
Patrick takes my hand, but instead of shaking it as I expect, he surprises me by bringing it to his lips and kissing it.
I inwardly grimace. Outwardly, I laugh nervously and reclaim my hand quickly.
“So, how do you know Liam?” I ask, skeptical that Patrick could be a true friend of his.
“We’ve worked on a couple projects together.” He smiles. “How long have you and Liam been dating?” Patrick takes a step closer to me, and I take a step back. I realize then that I am trapped, the glass railing and a large potted plant creating a corner with Patrick now blocking any easy way out.
“Um, not that long. We met online,” I explain stiffly, remembering our newly crafted backstory.
“I’m having a party next weekend at my Bel-Air property. I’d love for you to come, and Liam if he is available.” He rests his arm on the glass railing, his hand nearly touching my arm. I am hyperaware that he is too close.
But I don’t want to offend Liam’s friend or business partner, or whatever he is.
“Sure, I’ll talk to Liam about it. I’ll go find him,” I suggest and try to move past Patrick, but he doesn’t budge and blocks my way.
“You know, it can be hard to date someone successful,” Patrick shares. “I’ve lost women because I didn’t have my priorities straight. Liam’s never going to change, Chloe. You deserve someone who can focus on you, not leave you alone at a party.”
My stomach crawls. He doesn’t even know me. I swallow hard, wanting to tell him off but also not wanting to offend Patrick and somehow embarrass Liam.
“Patrick, what the fuck,” Liam says, walking up to us and patting Patrick on the back, a little too hard. His tone sounds half-joking, but I can hear his tension through gritted teeth.
On the other hand, I feel instant relief at Liam’s reappearance.
Patrick steps back, surprised by Liam’s sudden return. “Just keeping Chloe company.”
Liam takes my hand and pulls me towards him, away from Patrick.
“Doesn’t look like that’s all,” Liam challenges Patrick, though he keeps the semblance of a smile on his face. “You’re pulling this shit here?” He keeps his voice low and nods to the crowd, where quite a few partygoers are looking our way.
“We were just having a nice time getting to know each other, Liam.” Patrick smiles back, clearly pushing Liam’s buttons. I bristle at Patrick’s description of our encounter and open my mouth to protest but Liam speaks first.
“You don’t want to pick a fight with me, Patrick,” Liam says with a calm smile that contradicts his stern words. “Flirt with someone else’s girlfriend.” His smile becomes less forced and more pitying.
Damn .
“Enjoy the party,” Liam calls over his shoulder as we walk away, his hand in mine again. He leans over to my ear and reminds me to “smile” as we weave through the crowd toward the exit.
I perk up the corners of my lips mechanically as we stride past the fake dead body in the pool, but my mind is racing. Liam’s return couldn’t have come at a better time. Patrick is clearly no friend of his.
In the elevator, the doors close and we are once again alone. A part of me half expects—wishes for—a kiss that will relieve all the tension from the night.
Instead, Liam drops my hand and runs his hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.
He’s frustrated . I’m surprised because he had seemed so calm when we left Patrick.
He scrubs his face and looks at me, vexed. “Why would you talk to him like that?”
“What?” I am genuinely confused. The question is not what I’d expected.
“You were isolated with him, laughing and smiling…” Liam shakes his head, clearly pained. “What the hell, Chloe? I’m not paying you to embarrass me,” he spits out.
“Are you kidding? I was actually trying not to embarrass you—” I start to explain.
“Well, you did,” he snaps. “To them, my girlfriend is off flirting with another man.” He shakes his head again, as if disbelieving that this is happening to him.
“I wasn’t flirting?—”
“That’s what it looked like,” he cuts me off, eyeing me coldly.
“Well, earlier tonight, it looked like we were crazy about each other, but that’s not true either, is it?” I spit back at him. I am fuming mad now. He’s not interested in my side of the story. He didn’t even think to ask.
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. I storm out ahead of him.
“Chloe—” I hear him call out for me.
I’m aware that someone could be observing us now in the hotel lobby and I could be making a scene, which could be yet another thing that makes him look bad and embarrasses him.
But I don’t give a fuck right now.
“I’m off the clock, Liam. I’m going home,” I call over my shoulder and pick up my pace, my heels echoing off the marble floors.
I push through the lobby doors, into the cool night. I make a sharp left, walking up the sidewalk as I pull up the Uber app on my phone and hail a ride.
“Chloe, stop,” Liam calls from behind me and I ignore him.
The ocean is only a block away and the air smells like salt. I hurry across the street to the palm tree-lined sidewalk by a green park that butts up against the sandy beach. The area is deserted, with no other pedestrians and surprisingly few cars passing on the street.
I can hear the waves crashing out in the darkness beyond as Liam catches up to me.
“Chloe, can you stop?” He gently touches my arm and I whip around.
“What?” I shake my head. What more could he possibly want to say to me? I’m an embarrassment to him.
“I thought—” Liam frowns. “I thought you were flirting.” His tone holds a hint of regret, but his words are far from an apology.
“I’m not your ex-girlfriend,” I seethe, and I see him stiffen. “I’m not going to mess around, or fake mess around, behind your back.”
“Can you stop psychoanalyzing me for even a minute?” Liam says, exasperated.
My phone dings, signaling me that my Uber is arriving.
“I’ll try to do a better acting job tomorrow,” I say coldly, brushing past him toward the car pulling up to the curb.
He stares at me, speechless, as I get in and shut the door.
As the Uber pulls away, I lean back against the seat, my anger dissipating to reveal the hurt underneath. A tightness forms in my chest, and I feel like crying.
Liam doesn’t even know what really happened with Patrick. Instead, he immediately assumed the worst of me. I grit my teeth at the thought. How could he when all I’ve wanted to do is help him?
Then I remember the existence of my primitive, pleasure-seeking brain. Is helping him really all I’ve wanted to do to him?
I almost laugh at the obvious answer. No, I’ve wanted to rip his clothes off. I’ve had my own “stuff” driving my interactions with him.
He has his own “stuff” too—his fears about unfaithfulness and betrayal that he projected onto me.
It’s just one more reason why things need to stay professional, I realize.
My phone lights up in my lap and I glance down at a text message from Liam.
I’m sorry, Chloe. I’ll do better tomorrow
I soften, a warmth spreading over me.
Maybe he is trying. But it doesn’t change anything. As I stare out the window at the blur of city lights going by, I vow to focus on the job and get into character tomorrow.
After all, we have a big scene coming up.