Mistaken by Fate (5 page)

“Okay.” She didn’t miss a beat. “Tell me about what you’re working on. Last time I was in here, this wasn’t.” She pointed at the bright blue fabric Ridley had been about to cut when she showed up.

By this point, most of the collection was done except for the final series of fittings, but she’d decided to create a few more pieces. There was something missing from the lineup, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. “There’s something off, and I can’t quite figure out what it is.”

“So you’re just going to create until it all falls into place.”

It was easier to talk about her line than about Garrett. Because a part of her
did
want to see him. No, not see.
Obey
. He’d commanded her to be ready for him at six tonight, and every single cell of her body perked up at the thought of doing what he told her to. It was both horrifying and hot, all mixed up together until she didn’t know which way was up.

She wasn’t even sure she
liked
him these days, but when he crooked his finger last night on the phone, she came running—and just flat out came—like a well-trained pet. She’d loved every second of it. Sex—even outstanding sex—wasn’t worth getting this torn-up over, and things with her and Garrett had never been temperate. It was always hot or cold, love or hate, fighting or barely able to keep their hands off each other.

Apparently none of that had changed in eight years.

“The buzz this year says neutrals are making a comeback.” But she’d gone in a different direction. It was risky, especially for her first Fashion Week, but she hadn’t made a name for herself this young without taking a few risks. The palette she’d chosen was all deep jewel tones, mostly blues and greens that made her think of a hot summer day, but also with a few reds and oranges in to keep things from becoming boring.

“Naturally, that means you’re not doing neutrals.” Sara lifted one hanger off the rack and whistled. “Damn. You’ve outdone yourself with this collection.”

“Maybe.” She’d been back and forth on if she’d made the right decision half a dozen times, and she figured she’d question herself half a dozen times more before the show itself. She’d never been one to waffle, but the pressure of knowing that this was her big chance… It was getting to her. Badly. She couldn’t quite banish the fear that she’d gotten her opportunity to make it big and now she was going to choke.

The designs that had come so easily and been
fun
were now like trudging through molasses in the wintertime. Everything was more difficult than it should be, and she hated how she kept second-guessing herself.

Kind of like how she was waffling over what to do about Garrett. The answer was easy—nothing. Yes, Saturday night had been amazing before the blindfold came off, and yes, the phone sex last night had been one of the hottest moments of her life, but ultimately that changed nothing. He didn’t get to roll back into town whenever he pleased and just take over.

No matter what happened or didn’t happen with Will,
that
fact wouldn’t change.

While it would be incredibly satisfying to see the look on his face when she told him to get lost, Ridley was smart enough to know her strengths. Being rational when it came to Garrett wasn’t one of them. She couldn’t run the risk of him overpowering her better judgment like he already had on the phone.

Sometimes discretion was the better part of valor.

It would be better to play least-in-sight tonight and let him figure things out for himself. She’d turn off her phone for good measure to remove any temptation that arose to change her mind.

“Want to go out tonight?”

Sara turned to her, eyebrows raised. “Random change of subject, but sure. How’s
Hell’s Belles sound?”

Like a whole lot of distraction. Ridley smiled. “Perfect.”

Chapter Five

Garrett stood in the corner market and debated the wisdom of showing up with flowers in hand. Ridley wasn’t a flower type of woman—she’d always claimed that buying something that died inside of a week was a horrible romantic gesture. Plus, flowers seemed to indicate he wanted to date her. If he brought a bouquet, it was like declaring to the world that he wanted to start a relationship.

It was entirely possible that he was putting too much thought into this shit.

His life worked. Yeah, it wasn’t exactly the American Dream, but his missions these days were on the side of good. His job required sacrifices and he’d never had a problem with that—at least not enough of a problem that he’d admit it to himself. And he’d never felt half as off-center crawling through the various jungles of the world as he did standing here, trying to figure out if he should buy Ridley fucking flowers.

Cursing, he grabbed a bouquet of pink roses since he seemed to remember that she wore a lot of that color. Not that he spent any amount of time thinking about what that woman wore, but she was a goddamn clothing designer. She wouldn’t wear pink if she didn’t like it, right?

After paying for them, he headed out onto the street and hailed a cab. Ten minutes later, he was in the lobby of Ridley’s building. There he ran into a brick wall. The doorman shook his head again. “I’m sorry, Mr…”

“Reaver.”

“Right. Mr. Reaver. As I said before, Ms. Ethridge is out for the evening.”

“That’s impossible. We had plans.” Unless… She’d ditched him. He should have seen it coming. Both times before, he’d basically ambushed her. It figured that the second she got some distance to think, she’d disappeared. He’d wrung two really delicious orgasms out of the woman and she’d bounced the first chance she got.

He dug his phone out of his pocket and typed a quick text to Sara.
Where is she?
His phone buzzed before he had a chance to drop it back into his pocket.

???

He hated it when Sara tried to play dumb. Even if she wasn’t with Ridley right this second, she knew damn well where the woman was. His sister traded in information, and beyond that, she was the one Ridley would call if she needed something.

You know damn well who I’m talking about.

Another text back.

I do?

He couldn’t shake the belief his sister was laughing at him. Probably because she was.

Sara, if you don’t tell me where Ridley is right this goddamn second, I’m going to inform Rodger where the fuck you really were last year when you said you were volunteering at that kids’ camp. Where. Is. She?

U R seriously uptight. U might want 2 work on that.

Another text.

Hell’s Belles. Google it.

He did. Apparently it was a new hot spot not too far from here, and he seemed to remember Will bidding on the contract when he was in town last year for the weekend. Garrett dropped the flowers into the trash as he headed back onto the street. Ridley wanted to play games? So be it. He was about to change the rules.

Hell’s Belles was indistinguishable from the other bars around it, aside from the bright pink neon sign out front, but once he walked through the front door it was like stepping into another world. The bar wasn’t large, but there was a stage curving around the perimeter that held three women. Burlesque.

He sure as fuck couldn’t fault his sister and Ridley their taste, even if their reasoning for being here was to avoid him. That gave him pause. He stopped by the bar and scanned the Monday-evening crowd while he considered. Maybe he’d read the signs wrong and Ridley truly didn’t want to see him again. He frowned. That didn’t ring true, though. She wasn’t exactly a wilting flower. If she wanted him to get lost, she’d have no problem telling him off. Which meant she still wasn’t sure what she wanted.

He could sympathize. Every ounce of common sense he had said to high-tail it out of town and never look back. Wasn’t that the reason he’d left in the first place? It was more than needing to escape—he’d wanted to give Ridley a chance to actually experience life. She couldn’t do that tied down to him any more than he could do his job while in a serious relationship with her. Or that was what he’d told himself when he enlisted and left.

Even knowing that, he was having a hell of a time convincing himself to turn around and walk away. The thought of her with another man had bugged him before, but now that it was tipping over the edge from theory to reality, it was threatening to drive him out of his goddamn mind. He couldn’t seem to make himself leave her alone.

It was child’s play to pick Ridley and his sister out of the evening crowd where they were sitting in a corner booth. Even as he watched, a group of men approached, laughing and egging each other on. Was that the kind of shit-bag Ridley wanted?

What was he saying? Of course it wasn’t. She wanted
Will
. Thinking about it only inflamed the anger that had been riding him since he realized she’d ditched their date. This was what she’d chosen instead.

Instead of him.

Rationally, he knew he didn’t have a right to be pissed, but rational and how he’d always felt about Ridley weren’t even on the same continent. Garrett moved through the crowd, people instinctively moving out of his way so that his stride didn’t so much as hitch. The idiot playboy wannabes took one look at him and scattered like bowling pins.

And then there was only Ridley.

She blinked those big brown eyes at him, like he’d disappear if she gave him enough opportunity.
Good luck with that, baby
. “Garrett?”

“You were supposed to meet me at six.” He made a show of looking at his watch. “We need to talk.”

“I think that’s my cue to go.” Sara already was shrugging into her coat. She slid out of the bench seat.

“
Go?
”

“I think I left my stove on. It would be a tragedy if I burned the place to the ground.”

Ridley glared. “Get back here right now, Sara. Don’t think for a second I don’t know how
this
happened.” She waved a hand in Garrett’s direction.

“I’m sorry. He’s playing dirty.” Sara snatched her purse off the table. “I promise to make it up to you—later. Like tomorrow. Or next week.”

“Make it up to me right now by sitting your ass back down!”

“You two need to talk, or yell, or fuck. Whatever option you go with, get it out of your system so the rest of us can get some peace and quiet.” And then his sister was gone, slapping Garrett on the back as she passed before disappearing into the crowd. Though part of him wanted to make sure she got into a cab safely, Sara had gotten the same basic training from Rodger that he and Will did. Before starting his own business fixing problems for people and spinning scandals—a business Sara was poised to take over when he finally decided to retire—Rodger had spent twenty years as a Ranger. As a result, his sister was more than capable of taking care of herself—she’d been doing it for years.

“We need to talk.”

“Yeah you said that already.” She was already searching for an exit, though.

He pointed at her. “Do. Not. Move.”

She shook her head. “I—”

“You misunderstand. I gave you a command.” He turned on his heel and flagged down the bartender. “Whiskey on the rocks, and a vodka and Seven.”

He came back to find Ridley half out of the booth. “Baby, you’re testing my patience.”

“
I’m
testing your patience. You’re the one who keeps showing up uninvited.”

He slid into the seat, forcing her to move back or end up pressed again him. “I was invited.”

“By invited, you mean you muscled our location out of your sister.”

“Tomato-tomahto.” The waiter brought over their drinks and left with a smile. “She was being helpful since our date seemed to have slipped your mind.”

“It didn’t slip my mind. I never agreed to it in the first place. That was just you, trying to steamroll me yet again.” She sipped her drink. “And I haven’t drank vodka and Seven for years now, so stop trying to impress me.”

She was so damn irritable, but he knew her well enough to know that she fought the hardest when she was inches away from giving in. Garrett leaned closer. “I don’t have to impress you. I’m going to be inside you before the night’s out.”

Her jaw dropped. “You can’t—you’re insufferable! You can’t just roll in here and expect for me to fall all over myself to spread my legs for you.”

“I don’t. Fighting for something makes you appreciate it all the more.” He sat back as the music volume kicked up a notch and watched the closest woman weave a giant feathered fan around her half-naked body. “I didn’t know this place was even open yet.”

“Why would you? You don’t come back to the city often enough to keep up with the changes.” She looked like she was debating crawling over him to get free, but finally sat back with a huff. “And it just reopened this month.”

He let her stew as the show went on, sipping his drink and enjoying the atmosphere of the place. New York was full of hidden gems, and this was without a doubt one of the more charming ones. He nodded at the performer. “Have you ever considered it?”

Ridley choked. “No. I don’t dance.”

“Baby, I was talking about designing the clothes.”

She shot him a look. “No, you weren’t.”

No, he wasn’t. But now he found himself curious about this designing business she’d created. She’d always had a flare for fashion—or at least that’s what his sister said. “How did you make the jump from ripping up old clothes to Fashion Week?”

“Why are we even trying to have a conversation?” She made a show of looking at her phone. “Aren’t you due to bolt out of here in thirty seconds?”

That stung more than it probably should, because he
had
bolted in the past. He had his reasons, but that didn’t make it any less of a dick move. “Tell me, Ridley.”

She sipped her drink. “My parents got me a sewing machine for my seventeenth birthday and set me up in one of those fabric-store classes. From there, I kind of taught myself. I busted my ass to get into Parsons, and then scored an internship with Miranda Lang the summer of my last year there. From there, the next step was designing my own clothes instead of helping work on someone else’s.”

Eight years in a few simple sentences. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks.” She shifted, looking at the dancer in black, but her mind was obviously a thousand miles away.

“Ridley.” He brushed her hair back. “About the other night—”

She jerked back. “How many times do I have to say it? I was there for Will. I don’t want you. I might have a long time ago, but that died when you fucked that girl you knew I hated and left.”

He refused to flinch. “You care an awful lot about something that you claim is ancient history.”

“Stop trying to trap me into saying I still have feelings for you. I don’t.”

“I don’t agree.”

“Disagree all you want, I—”

He kissed her to keep her from saying something that neither of them could take back, though that motivation died at the feeling of her lips giving way beneath his. Everything around them faded until the club might as well have been empty. Garrett kept it at just a kiss. It was dark enough back here that he could probably slip a hand up her skirt or pull her onto his lap without anyone seeing anything, but that wasn’t the goal. He didn’t want their first time to be in a dark booth in a burlesque club, so he drew back. “Come home with me.”

Ridley started to lean into him, but then her entire body went rigid. “No.”

“Baby, you can say no all you want, but I’m not the one who’s got wandering hands here.”

She looked down, only now seeming to register that her hands were on his chest. She cursed and practically flung herself off him. “I mean it, Garrett. Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any part of it.”

“Baby—”

She looked him square in the eye and said the one word that he couldn’t ignore. “Frankenstein.”

Fuck
. He took a deep breath and scrubbed his hand over his face. “Okay. Hands off for the rest of the night.” It seemed he was destined to be in a constant state of blue-balls, but he couldn’t hate the fact she’d finally pushed back. She might see it as a victory—and maybe she was right—but she’d called a stop using a term set out when they scened last. She was treating him like her Dom, whether she meant to or not.

That
was a win as far as he was concerned, because it meant things weren’t over between them.

…

Ridley finished her drink in a large swallow that almost made her choke. She couldn’t believe she’d just put a stop to everything—or that he’d respected the using of her safe word. No, that wasn’t it exactly. She’d known that if she needed an exit during the kinky stuff that he would have responded instantly. Garrett might be a lot of things, but he wasn’t the type of man to force an unwilling woman.

But they weren’t getting hot and heavy right now, and she wasn’t in danger of anything but losing control.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye. Despite the truly impressive show going on, he was staring at
her
. Needing a distraction, she typed out a quick text to Sara.

I’m going to kick your ass

The reply was almost instantaneous.

Get him out of UR system!

As if it was that easy. Get him out of her system and move on with her life. She glanced up as the waiter swung back around, another vodka and Seven on his tray. “I’m not staying.”