A Jade's Trick (Lilly Black's Jaded Series Book 1) (5 page)

As we leave the restaurant with the illusion that the pressure is off, I ask Cain why he was at Prometheus the night he drove Drunk Girl home, and he tells me that his company, CTB Inc. has been engaged to help Steph establish a chain of nightclubs, though it's more of a favor as acquisitioning night clubs is not what his company generally does.  Still, it explains why Cain was with Dave and, more importantly, why he was with an asshole like Steph, but before he explains what his company generally does, we come to the car.

"This is your car?" I ask, looking him up and down in his expensive suit with a raised eyebrow as he opens the door of an older model Toyota parked at the back of the lot.

"Do you like it?" he asks.

"It's fine.  It just isn't what I expected of you."

"Well, since I have agreed to be your friend and am no longer
overtly
trying to seduce you, I may as well be honest.  I borrowed it from my administrative assistant."

"And how was this car supposed to seduce me?" I ask as he gets in and starts the engine.

"It's just a prop.  After the way you reacted to the limousine, I..."

"So it was yours?"

"What's important is what it makes you think of me.  I didn't want to offend you with the car I drive," he says as he pulls onto the road heading toward the 805.

"I'm not so easily offended," I say lightheartedly, thinking he's just joking.

"Actually, you are," he says.  "You're an elitist, Evan, and you don't even know it." 

"Says the rich playboy who thinks his money can buy him anything he wants, including me,"  I snap, glaring at him.  How dare Cain, of all people, call me an elitist!

"And
that
is the reason I borrowed the car. I realized you'd respond better to a man who seemed like he would have to spend his rent money to buy dinner at Maison Latour than a man who actually has the means," he says as he hits the gas hard, and the car speeds up on the 805 South entrance ramp.

"That's a very unfair assumption, Cain," I say.

"An elitist
and
a hypocrite.  Lovely."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I demand, and abruptly, he jerks the car to the side to the road and throws it in park.

"You wouldn't give me a chance because you think, based on your tax bracket, I assume you are an easy conquest."  I think he's just as pissed as I am now, but he doesn't come off as hostile.  He's powerful...dominant...sexy as hell. "You have been making assumptions about me since the night we met.  You assume that because I have money, I have no conscience, that I would use any means necessary to get you into my bed, and that getting you into my bed is my only conceivable goal. 
That
is an unfair assumption, Evan.  In fact, it's downright insulting."  My breath catches as he locks me in an intense stare.  It's my move, and though I still believe my assumption, I am well aware that it is completely unfounded.  As much as it pains me to admit it, especially to him, I am in the wrong here.

"You're right," I concede.  "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Evan," Cain says, his expression softening as he pulls the car back onto the road.  "I like you in spite of yourself."  As he makes me laugh just after teetering on the edge of a potentially nasty argument, I realize that I really enjoy his company.  He's not just beautiful.  He's intelligent and clever, and he makes me feel interesting and desirable.

If only I had met him on a different time line
, I think as he drives me home.

"Stay put," Cain says when he stops the car in front of the little house I rent with Nicole.  "Friend or otherwise, you're still a lady."  I watch him in the headlights walking around the car to open my door.  He takes my hand and helps me out, and for an intense second we stand face to face, so close that I can smell mint on his breath.  I know he wants to kiss me, but instead he turns the grip he has on my right hand into a handshake, that smug look on his face as he does.

"Do you have a security system?" he asks.

"No," I say, and he scowls in disapproval.

"When you get inside, I want you to blink the porch light twice so I know everything's okay."

"Okay," I agree, thinking it's silly but flattered by his concern.

"Good night, Ice Queen," Cain says, leaning against the car with a stunning smile that I like so much better than his trademark smirk.

"'Night, Playboy, and thanks for dinner.  I enjoyed it," I say, and then I walk away without looking back.  I unlock the door, blink the porch light twice, and I hear a quick, soft honk of the Toyota's horn as Cain drives away.

Damn!
  I know what I said I wanted, but...
damn!
 

As expected, Nicole is already in bed.  I crack her bedroom door and pop my head in to let her know that although I should be pissed at her, I'm not. That's all it takes, and she's up with her bedside lamp on in the blink of an eye.

"So?  When are you going out again?" 

"I had fun, but we decided to just be friends." 

"Boo!"

"Sorry to disappoint you."

"What's the problem, Evan?  The guy's perfect."

"You know very well what the problem is.  I have to be realistic, Nic."

"I don't want you to be realistic.  If I can't have his brother, you have to do this for me.  It's all I've got."

"Drama queen," I say, with a roll of my eyes.

"Seriously, Ev."

"So the older brother impressed you?"

"He did," Nicole said, a downtrodden look upon her face.  "But the whole thing was just a scheme to hook you up with Cain.  I knew Caleb was married all along."

"Yeah, Cain told me about his brother's wife.  I'm sorry," I say as I sit on the bed beside her.  It sucks that when she finally meets the guy who measures up to her fantasies, he's married.

"Have you seen her?" she asks, and I nod no.  "Look her up on the internet.  Arianna Ballantyne.  She's really pretty."

"She may be, but according to Cain, she's a harpy," I say, and we both laugh.

"It doesn't matter.  Married is married.  He's off limits," she says with a sigh.

"There is a younger brother, you know," I say.  "He's about our age."

"I'll take living vicariously through you, thanks,"  Nicole says.  I should have known better.  She likes her men older...Caleb Ballantyne older.

"Well, you're going to have to enjoy living vicariously as Cain's friend because that's all we're going to be."

"Psh!" she mutters in disgust.

"Goodnight, Nicole," I say, turning off the lamp as I leave.

"Evan," she calls out as I am just about to close her bedroom door.  "I knew you'd be pissed about me setting you up, but I want you to know why I did it.  When he came to me to plan it, the look in his eyes when he talked about you...it was intense, and then when he said that he would do anything to hold you...you wouldn't believe how hot it was."

"To
hold
me?" I question, certain that Cain did not mean whatever Nicole thinks he meant by the word.  It just sounds off, reminding me of what he said about breaking me.  "That man has something fucked up on his mind."

"Shut up!  It was romantic." 

"'Night, Nicole," I say sternly, closing her door.

In my room, I lay on the bed staring at the dark ceiling, trying to process the evening's events.  Cain seems sincere but too good to be true, and with trust not being in my nature, I cannot let go of the thought that I am just something to be conquered...or held
and broken, which I find as unbearable as the prospect of letting him get away without at least giving him a shot.

And why not?
  If he fails, I won't care if he moves on, but as I contemplate it, I know deep down the concern that he will fail isn't the problem.  It's the fear that he'll succeed.  If he does, I'll fall in love with him, and then when I ultimately lose him to his next conquest, I'll be back to square one, knowing undeniably what I am missing. 
That
would be unbearable.

August 26

Nicole's gone when I wake up late Monday morning to find an enormous bouquet of pink roses sitting on the small, cafe-style table in our eat-in kitchen.  They're gorgeous, but he got it wrong.  Roses are not my favorite flowers, and pink?  Seriously?

You don't know everything about me, now do you, Playboy?
I think to myself as I reach for the card.  As expected, the roses are from Cain.  Funny thing is, they're not for me.

Nicole,

Thanks for your help.  I couldn't have done it without you, apparently.

Cain

Though part of me was pissed that he wasn't respecting the boundaries of our "friendship", another part of me was still smiling ear to ear with her heart all aflutter, but now?  Now all of me is disappointed, so consumed by it that I jump when the doorbell rings.

It's a delivery man with more flowers. I answer it, expecting that Cain has sent another bouquet to Nicole to say: 
See, Evan?  See what you're missing?
  I do see, and despite that I am not a hearts and flowers kind of girl, I want the over-the-top display to be mine.

"Miss Lucien?" the delivery guy asks, and when I nod, he hands me a heavy vase of calla lilies.  These are my favorite flowers, and there must be at least five dozen elegant, white blooms with only occasional sprigs of waxy, twisted greenery.  I read the card.

Evan,

I look
f
orward to a long and close fr
i
endship with
you
. I be
l
ieve these lilies
are
your fa
v
orit
e
.  I'm sure they will become a favorite of
mine
.

Cain

The wording seems stiff, like there's something off about it that I can't quite put my finger on.  I read it again and realize that three words are typed in a different font than the rest.

You are mine,
they say.

And you
are
relentless
,
Cain Ballantyne
, I think, beaming as I move the bouquet carefully to the nightstand by my bed.  Lying down beside them, I text him a quick
thank you for the flowers.

Glad you liked them.  Do you have plans this evening?
 

The lilies were lovely
,
but I thought we agreed just to be friends,
I text back
.

Friends don't make plans together? 

I have to work tonight,
I send.

I could stop in for a drink.

It's a public place.

You're cruel,
he says.

I'm sorry.  I don't know why I said that.

I didn't say I didn't like it.  I'll see you around seven.

Don't be late,
I text without even thinking.

Yes, Ma'am. 
His response makes me laugh because I can hear the sarcasm in his words just as clearly as if he had spoken them.  I decide to let it be the last word for now, but I'm suddenly notably impatient for seven o'clock to roll around.

What am I doing?