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350 pages, ebook
First published January 28, 2021
the ‘Waif Girl’ is a barrel of contradictions: normal but extraordinary, socially awkward but the centre of attention, drab but hot, sexless but sexy, virginal but seductive.
”Promise me you’ll never be with another fucked-up man like me. You are too good for this, Claire.” His warm palm pressed against my chest, right above my heart. “You have to be a lot pickier with who you allow to be close to you.”
❝my point is you’re incapable of closing your heart, even when you want to. you aren’t made that way. you, baby girl, were built to fall. it’s just who you are.❞
❝stay with me, claire,❞ he crooned. ❝your lips are like honey, your smile is my air.❞ my eyelids fluttered, and a corset tightened around my chest. ❝i'd stay, you know. if you asked me tomorrow, i'd stay.❞
I realized my husband was cheating on me while I unpacked his small suitcase from his latest trip to Chicago.
I didn’t have a job or any skills to land on. All I had was a useless college degree and a sister who would take me in without hesitation.
“This can’t happen again.” She hopped around, slipping on her heels.
“Come on, Iz. We don’t need to play that game. It’s no fun.”
Isabela Ruiz, my former wife and now the ruler of my kingdom, marched to the side of the bed, standing over me. She’d gone from the afterglow to sleek and pissed off in the span of five minutes.
“Then what’s the problem? Fucking is the one thing we always got right.”
“So, go. We don’t need to have some big breakup scene. We already did that when you walked out on me.”
We’d met eight years ago. I’d been in need of new PR, and Isabela’s company had come highly recommended. A year later, we were married. Four years after that, we were divorced and demolished. Even after everything we’d been through, the way we hurt each other, we’d stayed friends.
“You slept with the last woman I sent on tour with you. I can’t have that, Dom. That is unacceptable. I do not need a lawsuit on top of everything else.”
All I’d wanted out of this day was a really good fuck, some music, a nice meal, and a blunt to round it all off.
She rolled her eyes. “Old is right. At forty-two, you’d think you’d learn some self-control.”
We weren’t ever getting back together. There was no question about that for either of us. But she’d been a steady source of distraction for so long, my gut protested giving that up.
Isabela Ruiz, the owner of the firm, stood at the head of the long conference table in the center, sliding her fingers over her iPad.
“I need your word you won’t sleep with him. Dominic is my ex-husband, so I know him better than most. He’s very charming and could convince a nun to drop their habit if he tried. I don’t think he’d try with you, but I can’t make that promise.”
“Are you sure she isn’t there? She’s young, sort of round, and very plain. She might be blending in with the furniture, so double-check.” Isabela chuckled at her own description
I turned back to my phone without a response. “She’s here, Iz, and you were pretty unkind in your description.”
“Claire, I’m so sorry. You’re lovely, and I’m happy you made it,” Isabella soothed. Claire cleared her throat before she spoke. “My Uber was in an accident a mile away, so I walked, which is why I was running late. I’ll be careful when I sit on the furniture, possibly even wear a sign around my neck so no one accidentally sits on me.”
“I don’t need to know her personal details, just that she’ll be able to do her job.”
Fortunately, I survived, only to have my self-esteem pummeled by Isabela Ruiz, my mentor.
“I take it he isn’t thrilled I’m here.” Her smile slid into a smirk. “The only thing Dominic is pleased with is himself, and even that’s iffy half the time. I take it you read up on him?”
If they knew the last time I’d taken a chance on a man ended with me in the hospital with a concussion, maybe they wouldn’t be so worried.
Marta grinned back at our boss. “Groupies have written books about the kind of debauchery you’ve partaken in. You have ticked every box on the list the bouncers keep at the gates of hell. It’s impossible to corrupt the corrupted.”
While I hadn’t expected to become pals with Dominic Cantrell, his callous dismissal of me had stung.
This is by far the nicest house I’ve ever been in. A girl could get used to this.” “Well, don’t.”
I held back the growl in my chest. “You sound like a cunt when you talk about her like that, Isabela. It’s also pretty un-fucking professional. You’d think you would have learned a lesson from the last time you insulted her looks.”
“Hey.” She nudged my knee. “You’re being quiet and not eating. Did I overstep here?” “Yes.”
“You did. I probably misled you last night—and that’s on me. I’m not really interested in you outside of the work you do for me.”
On her way out, Ariana stopped by Dominic, raised on her toes to whisper to him, and unmistakably slipped a piece of paper in his tight pocket. She gave him a lingering look before leaving with a swing of her curvy hips. Dominic licked his lips as he watched her go, driving an unwarranted spike of jealousy straight through my chest.
“Four weeks is all I have in me. I like you, Claire. I want to be around you and inside you, but I’m not going to be in a relationship with you. Not beyond this tour. I don’t think you want that either.” “I don’t. You’re right.”
Dominic and Isabela still hook up?” Marta winced. “Yeah. I don’t know when the last time was, but she’s always slithering around.
I’d known Isabela and Dominic had been married several years ago, but I had no idea they were still something to each other.
“Being hurt by the man who’s supposed to love you doesn’t mean you’re not a strong woman. It means the man is weak.”
“I want you to know you’re nothing special,” Isabela said without venom. In fact, her tone was soft, almost comforting. “That restaurant Dominic took you to? He took me there before we slept together the first time. It’s where he takes women he has to work a little bit harder to get. Of course, I didn’t know that at the time.
“She didn’t lie. I have taken more than one woman there.”
One day, some woman’s going to crack you open and get to see that side of you all the time.” I huffed a humorless laugh against her soft stomach. “It hasn’t happened yet. I’m not that guy.”
“You’re right. Dominic is extremely private, but this gala will be teeming with press, and I want you to attend. It’s black tie, so you’ll need a gown, but I’m assuming you can sort yourself out. Although, it’s probably not as easy for you—
I shoved at his chest, but there was no heat to it. “Isabela called. She pretended she didn’t know it was only six here.” He laughed. “She can be a real cunt when she wants to be.”
His nostrils flared. “Did I tell you where I am going that night?” He gave nothing away in his flat, detached tone. I couldn’t tell if he was angry, worried, or something else. “No, you didn’t.” “Then she told you something I did not give her permission to reveal.”
And for Dylan. Tonight wasn’t about me. It was about raising money so other kids wouldn’t suffer like Dylan had.
My beer was ready first, so while we waited for Claire’s cocktail, I surveyed the room. I recognized many of these people from attending this gala the past several years, but none whose name I remembered. None except her. Chelsea Watson.
Otherwise, I would have to watch Dominic in an intimate huddle with a willowy blonde goddess. Seeing them embrace, the way he’d cupped the back of her head and held her against his chest, had been enough.
Not until her. Even from across the room, their expressions of shared pain and love were so clear, I could have been standing in front of them.
I imagined this was why Isabela had insisted I come tonight. Despite my denial, she probably guessed something was going on between Dominic and me and this had been her way of once again hammering home I was nothing special.
I felt betrayed, but I didn’t even know if I had been. Dominic and I weren’t together. We weren’t a couple. We had sex and spent time with each other. We had an expiration date—and it was fast approaching.
“Chelsea is Dylan’s mother.” I hadn’t told anyone this story, about my past, my kid, any of it, since I met Marta.
“I don’t think I’m needed here anymore. Isabela will take care of you.” I’d said the last part with more venom than necessary, but as hurt as I was, I was also pissed. Dominic Cantrell was a coward, and I was getting really tired of cowardly men.