Chapter Eight
My head is pounding, and my throat feels like I’ve crossed the Sahara without having even the smallest sip of water for days. Seriously, my mouth is so dry my tongue sticks to the roof. This hangover of all hangovers might just kill me.
“Must you do that?” I hiss, staring pointedly at Sawyer’s fingers as he drums them against the steering wheel.
“Do what?” he asks, amused.
I groan and squint my eyes. “Make that noise.” How much did Gail and I drink last night? I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungover before.
Yesterday is a blur of activities and broken memories. I remember meeting with Remus, what he said about the Senate and marriage. I even remember meeting Gail at O’Jackie’s and seeing Sawyer. But it’s more like I’m watching an old movie where some of the reel has been damaged, not giving me the complete picture.
I need much more sleep than the few hours I got at Sawyer’s place. When I woke up and saw him next to me, I didn’t even question it. The only thing I could think about was that it needed to be me, and that I’d do anything to make myself a better choice. So, yeah, I took his cock in my mouth. God, I wish I could blame the alcohol or an aneurysm. But the shameful truth is that I was just that desperate.
The drive isn’t all that long. Yet it feels like an eternity as I suffer through the sun and sounds of traffic. When we’re finally here, I thank him for the ride and get out of the car. I blink in confusion as Sawyer gets out as well. “What are you doing?” I ask, perplexed.
“Walking you in, of course,” he states. Then he places his hand on the small of my back and walks so close our bodies brush against each other with each step. Warmth spreads where his hand is touching me, causing me to shiver.
I hate how good he looks and smells, like a fucking ad for healthy and clean living. Whereas I feel like death warmed over. It’s not fair, and it’s enough to make me rethink my stance on alcohol consumption.
The apartment I share with Gail is only on the second floor, so instead of using the shady looking and sounding elevator, we take the stairs. I walk up first, with Sawyer closely behind me. He keeps his hand on my back for the first set, but by the time we climb the last few stairs, it’s fallen to my ass.
“This is me,” I say, my back to the door as I fish my keys out of my coat pocket. Sawyer told me I didn’t have my handbag or coat with me when he saw me last night, so we swung by O’Jackie’s before he dropped me off. Apparently, he’s tight with the owner, a grumpy-looking woman who looked like she had a lot to say to me, yet didn’t even say hi. “Thanks for the ride. And umm… for getting me my things.”
When a door opens below us, Sawyer moves closer. He grips my hips and shoves me against the wall. “Thank you for the blowjob,” he whispers against my ear. “I can’t wait to repeat that.”
His nearness overwhelms me, causing my breath to hitch. What can I say? Oh, it’s fine. No worries. Thank you for letting me suck you dry… none of that sounds right. “Don’t mention it.”
His answering smirk is infuriatingly knowing. “I’ll come pick you up after practice. Be ready for me,” he rasps.
“What? Why?”
“Isn’t that what couples do?” he asks, putting some distance between us. “Spend the weekend together.”
“Yeah, but—”
He shakes his head. “No buts, Lucia. You wanted this. Now that you have it, you need to live up to your end of the deal.”
His words penetrate my hazy brain, which is good, because I was on the verge of doing something stupid like turning my head and kissing him. “Fine,” I sniff. “I’ll see you later.” With those words, I turn to unlock the door. “What the hell?” I gasp, shocked at what I see. There’s white spray paint on our door, in the shape of a wolf’s head. The way some of the paint has bled down the wood makes it look ominous.
“Did you do that?” Sawyer asks from behind me. “If you did, I wouldn’t quit your day job just yet.”
“N-no… it wasn’t me,” I say, running my hand over the dried paint. Fucking Remus and his not-so-subtle reminders.
I feel Sawyer’s eyes burn into my back, but I refuse to turn around. I’m too tired, too hungover to deal with him right now. “See you later,” he finally says, and I unlock the door and walk into my apartment, leaving him standing outside as I close the door without inviting him inside.
I lean against the door, not moving until I hear him descend the stairs. And only when he’s gone does it feel like I can breathe freely again. I don’t allow myself time to think about what I did, or how being picked to be Sawyer’s fake girlfriend is only step one. I have too far to go and can’t lose sight of the big picture.
As I walk into my room, I find a note on the bed.
Hi Luce,
I’m so sorry to do this. But I can’t… it’s all too fucking much, you know? I need a few days to clear my head. So I’m going to my brother’s. Please don’t try to contact me.
Love you, girl.
Gail 3
Tears gather in my eyes as I read the note over and over, not letting the small piece of paper go until it’s practically soaked from my tears. Gail. I should have gone home with her last night. I should have made sure she was okay with everything I told her.
Sighing, I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. I can’t lose my best friend, but I also can’t risk losing my freedom. Right now, it feels like I’ll push one away by pursuing the other, and I don’t like that gnawing feeling in my gut.
After a quick shower, I get dressed in a pair of jeans and a white cashmere sweater. I throw my hair up in a messy bun and pull on a pair of ugly-as-sin but oh-so-comfortable socks I got from Gail for Christmas. Then I pull out my phone and look at it. Well, there’s no time like the present.
Despite Gail asking me not to contact her, I call her. The first three times it rings out, but on attempt four and five I’m sent straight to voicemail.
“Damn it, Gail,” I growl at her voicemail. “You knew I’d try to contact you. I have to know you’re okay, and… and that you forgive me. So I don’t know, send me a smoke signal or something to let me know you’re okay. Please?”
Hanging up, I write the same in a text and send it to her. It immediately shows as read, but no answer or typing dots ever appear. I guess that’s fair. Her reading it shows me she’s okay, right?
Shaking my head, I tell myself to get over it. I need to move on with my plan. If I don’t, I can kiss my freedom goodbye, and then it really won’t matter if Gail’s upset now. If I’m forced back to Rome, I have to make my parting gift a hate-filled one. As in, I’ll have to make sure she hates me. I can’t risk her getting the attention of my Mafia family because she’s trying to find me. That would open her up to being used as a pawn, which I’ll never allow to happen.
A knock sounds on the door, interrupting my mental pity party. When I open it, I recognize one of Remus’ guards. He bows slightly. “Remus asked me to bring you this,” he says, thrusting a black folder toward me.
“What is it?” I ask, taking it from his hand.
“I wouldn’t know,” he says dismissively. “I was ordered to deliver it to you, not to read it. Have a good day.”
“Wait,” I call after him. “Tell Remus he owes me a new door.”
The guard looks from me to the door and back again. “Why?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious. “Our Don isn’t in the habit of destroying property.”
“Whatever, I’ll tell him myself.”
I’m tempted to flip him the bird as he walks down the stairs with his back to me, but I refrain and walk back inside the apartment. As soon as the door is closed and locked, I open the folder.
“Huh?” I murmur, looking down at the marriage license for Lucia Carter and Sawyer Perry.
I’m stunned speechless, barely able to form a thought. Logically, I know this means my cousin is keeping a close eye on me and what’s going on. But I can’t let myself dwell on that. This is… a gift. It’s his way of helping me indirectly, which I’m grateful for. I remove the paper from the folder and neatly fold it before stuffing it into my purse. Okay, so maybe painting my door was a ploy to make it look like he isn’t helping me? I guess that’s possible.
Hunger gnaws at my stomach, a reminder that I can’t even remember the last time I ate. Was it with Remus yesterday? If so, food is long overdue. With a sigh, I head to the kitchen to scavenge for something edible.
As I rummage through the cabinets, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Glancing at the screen, I see Jo’s name flashing. Even though it’s Saturday, it’s not exactly abnormal for her to contact me if there’s anything she needs to update me on.
“Hey, Jo,” I answer, curiosity mingling with the tiredness in my voice.
“Lucia, where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday.” Jo’s tone is sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. “Have you received my emails?”
I furrow my brows, confusion swirling in my mind. “I had the day off yesterday. But hang on, let me check.” Putting her on speaker, I check my inbox on both my private and work emails, but there’s nothing from her. “There are no new emails from you, Jo. Is everything okay?”
There’s a moment of silence on the other end before Jo speaks again, her voice tinged with frustration. “We need to talk. Can you come to the arena and meet me at Tom’s office? It’s urgent.”
My mind races with possibilities. What could be so urgent that Jo needs me? “Sure, I can be there,” I agree, trying to keep the worry out of my voice.
As I end the call, I can’t shake the feeling of unease that settles in the pit of my stomach. What could this meeting be about? Since Tom’s already picked me, it’s not like I did anything wrong by spending the night at Sawyer’s.
I look down at myself and decide to quickly swap my jeans for a pair of black pants. After changing, I grab my coat and bag and head out the door.
The arena is quiet as I make my way to Tom’s office, my footsteps echoing in the empty corridors. When I enter, I find Jo and Tom waiting for me—she’s scowling, and he’s smiling. Jesus, what the hell is this about?
“Lucia, thank you for coming,” Tom says, gesturing for me to take a seat.
I nod, my head throbbing from the remnants of last night’s indulgence. “Of course. What’s going on?”
Tom exchanges a glance with Jo before speaking. “I wanted to talk to you yesterday, but since you had the day off I was going to wait until Monday. But then pictures started circling of you and Sawyer. You were seen together late last night and this morning.”
When I look at Jo, she shakes her head subtly. I have no idea if that means I’ve messed up, or that she doesn’t know where Tom’s going either.
“Okay,” I say slowly, like I’m tasting the word. “Umm, Sawyer told me that you had picked me, and—”
“Ah!” Tom exclaims, slapping his hands together. “So he finally embraced it and decided to step up. I’m happy to hear that, Lucia.”
That’s not exactly what I meant to say, but now that I see Tom’s reaction, I’m glad I let him interrupt me. This looks better with him thinking Sawyer’s the one who took charge and started the charade. Hell, it’s a much better spin than me sucking him off as my—how did he put it?—audition. Dick.
“We asked you to come in here so we can go over the contractual side of the arrangement,” Jo says, eyeing the mountain of papers in front of her. I gulp, not too proud to admit it’s intimidating. “Obviously, there’s going to be an NDA, and—”
Tom interrupts her with a wave of his hand. “And we’ll suspend your regular duties as well as give you a raise. Your sole focus for the remainder of the season will be to improve Sawyer’s image as his girlfriend. Anything else will be assigned to someone else.”
“Right,” I mumble. I should have expected that. “Okay, where do I sign?” I force a smile.
Jo pushes the first mountain of papers toward me, and I lean forward in the chair so I can read it through. It all looks very standard. I’m not allowed to mention or discuss the agreement with anyone. I half expect it to be the rules of Fight Club, but this contract is sadly not that simple.
“Wait,” I say. “It says here that Mickey and Soren are aware of the situation.”
Tom nods. “Yes. Sawyer made an excellent case that you might need the credibility of others pretending they already knew.”
I debate telling him that Gail knows, but then I decide against it. There’s no point. I bite down on my bottom lip and continue reading. So far there’s nothing alarming there. I’m allowed a clothing budget to buy clothes for events I’m required to attend as Sawyer’s girlfriend. Including, but not limited to; sponsor events, interviews, charity events, etc.
Picking up the pen Tom discreetly nudged in my direction, I sign my name with a flourish.
As I continue reading, I come across the addendum regarding the length of this. “There’s an issue,” I say, pointing at the end date, which is two days after the season ends.
“Oh?” Jo asks, looking at where I’m pointing. “We can’t make it the exact end date of the season, Lucia. That would look odd.”
I nod. “Sawyer is aware of that. He suggested thirteen months.”
“Sawyer did?” Tom asks. His eyebrows sit high on his forehead, making his surprised expression almost comical.
“Yes. He told me all about it last night.” The lie falls easily from my lips. “He worried that even a little after the season ending would look off. He also said that such a short commitment might make the investors think he can’t commit longer. So he suggested thirteen months.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Tom says, running his hand through his hair. “It seems he’s really all in. Of course. I’m happy to take his suggestion if you are.”
“I am,” I confirm.
“And you’re sure this was Sawyer’s idea?” Jo asks suspiciously.
Of course, it wasn’t his idea, but there’s no way I’ll tell them that. If I’m somehow going to make a marriage out of this, it’s important I make Sawyer seem like he’s on board, so taking the next step won’t seem so… random. “Absolutely.”
She narrows her eyes on me, showing me she doesn’t believe me for a second. Well, too fucking bad. It’s not her I need to fool. And considering the way she treated me when we had the meeting with the GM only days ago, I’m not too happy with her right now.
“Alright. The guys are almost done, so I’ll text Sawyer and have him come to my office. Then the two of you can discuss how best to run this show.” Tom picks his phone up from the table and taps away on it. “Done.”
“Okay,” I say, unsure of what else there is to say.
“I guess I’ll leave you to it,” Jo says. Walking over to the door, she pauses after opening it. “Come see me on Monday, Lucia. I have a few things regarding your accounts I need clarified before I can hand them over to someone else.”
Tom Redding: Come to my office ASAP!
I sigh and grab my leather jacket, shrugging it on. “The big chief wants to see me, so I’ll see you two later.”
“Sure thing,” Soren says. “Keep us updated on what’s going on.”
Mickey slaps me on the back. “What Soren said.”
Even though it’s the weekend, there are people buzzing around everywhere. I have no clue what half of them do, actually; I think it’s only the cleaners I’ve spoken to before. But I still smile and wave when I make eye contact with some of them on my way to Tom’s office.
“Come in,” Tom calls when I knock on his door.
Stepping inside, I stiffen when I immediately spot Lucia sitting on the leather couch, looking too comfortable for my liking. She’s gathered her red hair in a braid that falls across one shoulder, and she’s dressed in a pair of black pants and a white sweater that hugs her curves perfectly. I narrow my eyes, but instead of having the good sense to look away, she lifts her chin. Her eyes sparkle with the same determination I saw last night, and it’s all it takes for my dick to twitch.
“Good. Good. We’re all here,” Tom says, steepling his fingers together.
“What’s this?” I ask, tipping my head in Lucia’s direction, refusing to acknowledge her with words.
Tom sighs. “I take it you haven’t checked social media today,” he huffs.
I shake my head. “No.” This isn’t new since they all know I barely ever go on there.
“Well, imagine my surprise when Jo called me this morning, disturbing my family breakfast, with news about the two of you making your relationship official last night.”
“We… what?”
He waves me off. “She told me that there was a video that’s gone viral where you dismissed another woman and declared Lucia yours.”
Fuck. My. Life.
“So I called Lucia and asked her to come in so we can discuss how to move forward, since you’re both ready to play your roles now instead of waiting until Monday.”
I glare daggers at Lucia, who just smirks at me. With the self-satisfied look on her face, it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s the one who leaked the video. But she wasn’t recording, was she? Not that it matters. Her job is literally to spin straws into gold, so I’m not putting anything past her.
“That’s not exactly what happened—”
Lucia interrupts me. “Don’t be so humble, Sawyer.” I… fucking what? “I told Tom how you were so eager to repair the damage that you didn’t see a need to wait.”
Tom’s eyes dart between us. “She did,” he confirms. “And I have to admit, it was a pleasant surprise to know you’re ready to be a team player. I was especially pleased to hear you want to extend the relationship instead of ending it promptly after the season ends.”
“Glad it makes you happy,” I grumble, folding my arms across my chest.
“I’m sorry I was the one to tell him,” Lucia says, smiling too widely for my liking. “But I had to tell him about your idea and initiative when he wanted me to sign the contract.”
Tom nods. “And on that note, I have an amended version of yours, Sawyer. If you go ahead and sign it now, we’re good to go.”
“Right.” What the fuck is Lucia’s game? The words she’s saying sound good, but the wry twist of her lips makes it clear she’s working on her own agenda. I’m not going to let her make a fucking fool out of me. If she wants to make me look good in front of the GM, I’ll let her. But I’m still going to find out what the hell she’s getting out of this. “I’ll sign them now.”
The GM hands me some papers, and I don’t even bother reading before scribbling out my signature on the amended passages that are already highlighted.
“You know,” Tom says, gaining my attention. “With this recent development, there’s no reason Lucia shouldn’t join you for your interview on Thursday.”
“Wait a damn second,” I growl. “That interview is about the team and not my personal life.”
Tom’s eyebrows shoot up on his forehead. “Your personal life is causing an issue for the team. You made the two bleed together, Sawyer. This could help smooth the waters.”
I resist the urge to shout at Lucia, who’s clearly orchestrated this. Maybe I shouldn’t let it bother me, but I’m practically vibrating with anger, and the smug look in her eyes isn’t helping. “Anything else?” I grind out.
“That’s all,” Tom confirms. “So I’ll see the both of you then. Make sure you spend some time together between then and now.”
Lucia stands, and my eyes are drawn to her thighs as she smoothes the fabric there. “Of course,” she sing-songs. “Sawyer already told me we’re going for dinner tonight. We’ll make sure to be seen.”
“Oh, one more thing,” Tom adds. “I don’t have to tell you how important it is that you look like a couple. So that means you have to get your stories straight for the interview.”
“Absolutely,” Lucia replies. “Jo has already emailed me a list of things we need to work on before the interview.” She points at her phone where I assume the email is open.
Tom gives us a sharp nod. “See that you follow her recommendations. You don’t have to know everything about each other, but you need the damn basics, or this will unravel before it can begin.”
“Like what?” I ask, needing to know what he expects from me.
“When did you start dating? How did you manage to sneak around? And why did you keep it a secret? Where was your first date? Things like that. The devil is in the details,” Tom replies.
A groan slips free and I quickly try to cover it up as a cough, but I’m not sure I completely succeed. “Right,” I agree. “So we’re done now?”
“We are—”
Lucia interrupts Tom. “If I may make a suggestion…” When Tom nods, she continues. “The original idea was to spin the story to make it seem like our relationship was kept a secret because of our jobs. So what better way to show the world we have your blessing than posting a selfie?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I grumble.
“Why not?” Lucia volleys, her tone taking on a sharp edge, making it clear she isn’t happy with my interference. Well, too fucking bad for her.
I summon a smirk despite knowing I don’t have a good reason for saying no. “Because that shit would look stupid on my socials. If anything—”
“Sawyer,” Tom grumbles.
I ignore him and carry on. “It should be on the Sabertooths’ socials and not mine.”
“You have a point,” Tom says, thoughtfully scratching his chin. “Yeah, I like the idea of that. Okay, let’s do it and then Lucia can send the picture for Jo to handle.”
I wonder if Tom notices that Lucia straightens her spine and closes her eyes like she needs to collect herself. But when she says, “Sounds good,” there’s no trace of annoyance in her tone. She’s good, I’ll give her that. Unfortunately for her, I’m better, and I’m already noticing some of her tells.
We move to the Sabertooths banner in Tom’s office and stand in front of it, Lucia between me and Tom. Then we take the picture, one where we’re all smiling, and my arm is around Lucia’s middle while she’s leaning against me. In other words, it’s as fake as our relationship.
While Lucia sends the picture to Jo, Tom pulls me to the side. “I know this isn’t ideal for you, and I want you to know I’m sorry it’s come to this, Sawyer.” His tone rings with sincerity, as does the solemn look on his face. “But I was glad when Lucia told me that you’re the one who pushed her to embrace it straight away. It tells me you’re taking your career and place here seriously.”
I should accept the fact Lucia did me a solid by painting a different picture than what really happened last night. I’m not going to. I can’t when I know she has ulterior motives that mean I have to watch her carefully. But I still know I should.
“Why did you pick her?” I ask Tom, needing to know if she was being honest about not putting her name on the list.
“She didn’t want it,” he answers. “If I’m being honest, she’s impressed me for a long time, and the meeting was no different. But when she didn’t use the opportunity to suggest herself, I knew she’d be the right person.”
I can’t decide if I’m surprised or not that Lucia was telling the truth. Either way, I don’t feel bad for questioning her. She’s too… perfect. And I don’t mean her spankable ass, plump lips, or tits that just beg to be fucked… right, thoughts about her body aside, she’s still too damn perfect. In my experience, the cleaner your image, the more you’re hiding.
So the question is, what’s Lucia Carter hiding?