Chapter 5
five
. . .
BLAKE
“You sure you don’t want to join me over here?” Honor called from where she was lying on the floor.
I worked to keep my eyes trained on my laptop screen and not her ass in the tiny sleep shorts she’d changed into when we got back from dinner. Not only did she have killer legs, she had an ass like a perfect peach that I wanted to sink my teeth into the moment I’d seen it.
But that was never going to happen. This was purely a business arrangement.
I had to keep my hands to myself, and had been trying my best to do it the past couple of days while still selling our fake relationship. Because it was bad enough I’d let my hand brush along her back at dinner the first night. I’d seen the way she’d stiffened at the contact. Sure, we were meant to appear like a legitimate couple, but physical touch is something we should have discussed on the plane, yet we never got around to it.
Not that she had any issues touching me. She’d taken my arm and held onto it as we strolled through the resort on the way to dinner that first night. I’d forgotten what it was like to have a beautiful woman on my arm. I’d had to remind myself that it wasn’t real—that this was a paid employee for all intents and purposes; not my personal plaything.
How easily she got along with my family wasn’t helping the situation. We’d just had another dinner where she joked with Spencer and Hudson, complimented and laughed with Kelly, and charmed my parents and aunt with practiced ease. Then again, this was her profession.
It had been a long time since I’d brought a woman around my family, but no one—not even Reyna—had fit in so seamlessly.
“I’ve got a lot of work to do,” I said, my voice more rigid than I’d intended.
Despite both of us gorging ourselves at dinner earlier, Honor had declared she was still hungry for a midnight snack (at ten pm) when we’d walked through the door, so I’d ordered her a bottle of champagne and half the room service menu, while she raided the mini bar.
She was now sprawled on the floor in front of the TV, the French champagne in an ice bucket beside her, a plate of fries and a half-eaten burger to her left, and an array of candy from the mini bar spread in front of her.
She glanced at me over her shoulder, those bright blue eyes lit by the flash of the TV screen. “Do you ever just shut the computer and have a good time?”
“Having a good time doesn’t make me money.”
She muttered something that sounded a lot like “removing the stick up one’s ass” as she turned back to the TV.
I fought my smile.
She was nothing like I’d imagined when I’d contacted the agency to hire her. I hadn’t expected someone quite as poised, but I also hadn’t anticipated someone quite as mouthy. For someone who was being paid to please me, she didn’t hesitate to give me her opinion.
Yet… I didn’t hate it.
I spent my working life with people kissing my feet in order to get ahead. Having Honor mutter thinly-veiled insults about me under her breath was different. Maybe even a little refreshing.
Or maybe I needed to get my head checked.
Grinding my teeth at the ever-growing list of emails filling my inbox, I downed the last of the whiskey in my glass beside me and shut my laptop, discarding it on the couch beside me.
As much as I needed to work right now, I couldn’t concentrate with the sight of Honor’s ass and long legs distracting me from the other side of the room.
Heading for my bedroom, I ditched my linen shirt and dress pants in favor of a pair of navy sweat shorts and a gray t-shirt. When I strolled back into the living room, Honor glanced my way, her eyes widening ever so slightly before she turned back to the TV.
I stopped in front of the couch, dropping to the floor with my back against it. Honor sat up and thrust the champagne bottle in my direction.
“Drink?” she said with a grin, like she fully expected me to say no.
I wasn’t so strait-laced that I couldn’t drink from the bottle. I took it from her, taking a long sip.
She gave me a nod of appreciation, shuffling closer so her back was against the couch beside me, bringing her tasting platter of candy with her.
“This show will never not be funny,” she said, popping a red vine in her mouth and smiling at the episode on the screen.
“Can’t say I’ve ever watched it.”
She rounded on me, eyes wide. “You’ve never seen this?”
I shook my head, and she frowned, assessing me.
“You know, when we met at the airport, I got the sense that you had no idea how to chill out and have a good time, and now I’m worried that might genuinely be true.”
I offered the champagne to her, but she shook her head, so I returned it to the ice bucket. “I know how to have a good time.”
She leveled me with a look. “Name one thing you do for fun that doesn’t involve work.”
“Running.”
She screwed up her nose. “I only run if I’m being chased.”
I huffed a laugh. “Valid reasoning if you’re not a runner. It’s not for everyone.”
“What else?”
She offered me the bowl of red vines and I took one, taking a bite and chewing as I considered it.
“Drinks with friends.”
“Oooo, he has friends other than his brother and his cousin, who’d have thought?”
I gave her a small smile at the jab. She was cute when she was trying to be funny. Hell, she was cute all the time, but there was no way I could ever tell her that.
“That’s it? Running and drinking? That’s all you’ve got?”
“I mean… there’s one other thing, but I’m a gentleman.”
A broad smile spread across her face. “Oh, really? Please put your gentlemanly tendencies aside and enlighten me.”
I propped my elbows on my bent knees. “Sex, obviously.”
“Obviously,” she said with a note of sarcasm. She shifted positions, her arm inadvertently brushing mine.
Her body was warm and soft, and I didn’t hate the contact one bit.
“I’m surprised you leave the office long enough to have sex. I’m curious… how exactly you woo these women into your bed? Do you tell them about your titanium Amex, fifty-fourth floor penthouse, and body-shredding trouser snake?”
I arched a brow at her. I’d taken the conversation to questionable ground bringing up sex, but she sure was running with it.
I shrugged. “I’m tall and have money. It doesn’t take much more than that.”
Her expression turned scandalized. “That’s a harsh assessment of women. Tall, I’ll give you, but not every woman is out for a man with money.”
“Really? Money doesn’t interest you?”
“I’m not saying I want to date a deadbeat who’s married to his mother’s couch instead of holding down a job, but he doesn’t need to be loaded either. If he’s well-off, it’s a bonus but it can’t be the only thing he’s bringing to the table.”
She was nothing like I expected. Her choice of occupation brought her dangerously close to sugar baby territory, depending on the age of the guys she chose to work with. Yet I believed her that she didn’t chase men with money.
“So, what does your dream guy need to have then?”
I was asking purely for conversational purposes. Not for any personal interest.
Her smile broadened, and she turned fully to face me. “Oh, I have a whole list.”
“Of course you do.”
She swiped the champagne from the bucket, taking a sip and then handing it to me. I took a swig, trying not to think about my lips touching the same place hers had just been.
Get your shit, together.
“He needs to have a job, we’re too old now for anyone to be living off their parents. He needs to be good to his mom and any waitstaff we encounter. He has to have a kind heart, and not have any crazy exes hanging around, I can’t do other- woman drama.” She pauses to give me a pointed look that was clearly a nod to Reyna. “He also really needs to like pop music and brunch. I could never date a guy who had a problem with brunch.”
I took another sip of champagne. “Brunch is my favorite meal of the day.”
Not a lie. It had become the truth the second she’d said it.
She smiled back at me and my chest tightened at the sight.
Fuck, I was in a world of trouble.
She toyed with the hem of her shorts. “Can I ask you something?”
No good ever came from a conversation that started like that. But this moment we were in was… nice . I didn't want to ruin it by shutting her down.
“I guess so.”
She huffed a laugh at my less than enthusiastic response. “What drew you to someone like Reyna? I maybe get it on a surface level, but relationships are so much deeper than the surface. Especially ones that lead to engagements.”
She studied me, waiting for a response. I shifted against the couch, not sure how to answer her.
“Reyna was unlike any of the other women I knew. She can be charming when she wants to be;, fun too. In the beginning of our relationship, she felt like a really good fit. She was beautiful. Driven. Independent and happy to live that way. Which suited me, given my focus was building my company. Don’t get me wrong, there were definitely moments where she gave me a hard time for being married to my job.” I paused, taking another swig of champagne. “But overall, she seemed content to live life alongside me, having the freedom to be part of my life but still have her own.”
Honor nodded, her eyes locked on me like she was studying my words. Turning them over in her mind and trying to work out how all the pieces fit together.
“In hindsight, a lot of the things that drew me to her were red flags for why I couldn't trust her. I question so much of what was between us now.”
Honor reached out, her hand closing over mine and giving it a squeeze. The urge to pull away reared inside me, to shake off the pity touch, but I pushed it aside.
After Reyna’s betrayal, I’d shut down to avoid feeling anything, and somewhere along the line I’d become almost like a robot, convincing myself I was immune to feelings.
But Honor wasn't patronizing me at this moment, so I couldn’t let my old ways override me. Instead, I held still and accepted the touch.
“No one would blame you for questioning her after what she did.”
I nodded ruefully. “Now I look back at that independence and see it as a clear sign she wasn't invested in the relationship. She’s driven, but not always with pure intentions. She’s still beautiful, but she wields it like a weapon when it suits her. And she’s definitely charming. She just wanted to use it to charm the wrong brother.”
Honor tipped her head at me, eyes filled with sadness. I handed her the bottle and she took a sip, swallowing, and passing the bottle back.
“She’s a damn fool for letting you go. And she’s an asshole for the way she betrayed you.”
I let out a rueful laugh, taking another sip.
“I’ll drink to that.”