Seduce (3 page)

My mum left when I’d just hit puberty, and my dad treated me with as much respect as something on the bottom of his shoe. He said it was no wonder I behaved the way I did. Therapy didn’t extend past the ten mandatory sessions and I’d never had any since. Unless you counted Alex’s multiple attempts to ‘shrink’ me. He did that a lot.

“I’m fine. Alex says hi, by the way,” I said. I hadn’t even spoken to my brother, but I couldn’t resist opportunity of making Dad feel uncomfortable—and nothing did that quite like the mention of Alex. He stiffened, my words cutting through him like a knife. He took a deep breath then left without as much as a goodbye.

***

“Hey you.” At least there was someone to meet me at the door when I got home from work.

Kneeling down, I ran my hand over Mr. Jefferies thick black coat as little strands of fur floated through the air, drifting downwards before landing on my pants. This was why I spent so much on dry-cleaning. That and my inability to eat an egg and bacon wrap without soiling myself. He purred anxiously and rubbed himself against my arm, angry at being left alone all day but happy to see me. The complexities of being a house cat.

I scooped him into my arms, tickling his chin as I carried him over to the sofa. His annoyance gave way to his craving for attention as he madly rubbed himself up against me, begging for more pats. He was good; it was like he knew I felt bad leaving him alone all the time, so he played that against me. Flicking on the television, I checked my messages.

Luke had called again to remind me of next week’s dinner. Fuck, he was persistent. The more he went on about this dinner, the more nervous I got. I had a feeling I knew what this was about, and if I was right, this dinner was going to suck big time.

I thought back to my meeting with Dad. What was supposed to have been a lunch meeting had lasted four-and-a-half minutes before he bailed. I should’ve been used to it by now, but no matter how often he disappointed me, it still hurt. Maybe Alex had the right idea: cutting all ties with him and leaving the country. He seemed happy, living it up with his girlfriend in Los Angeles.

Happier than me anyway.

I was big on pretending everything was great, but the truth was, more often than not I hated my life. I drank too much because it dulled the pain I felt when I thought about my parents, and I treated women like shit because it made me feel in control of something. Even my career was not something I had achieved—not according to Dad, anyway. He never let an opportunity slip by to remind me it was because of
him
I had this lustrous lifestyle and amazing job, as if he could take it all away at any moment.

My life was a mess and I saw no way out of the hole I felt trapped in. I kept living my life the only way I knew how. Every day felt like the same never-ending downward spiral. I even resented Alex for leaving me alone to deal with my father—that’s how fucked up this shit was. Why was he able to get out, yet I was stuck here in this soul-destroying life?

Dialing Alex’s number, I waited impatiently as it rang. Finally, he answered.

“Jack. How are you?” he said, sounding pleased to hear from me. I always called in the evenings because it was the only time I could be sure he’d be awake.

“Not bad, how are you?” I asked, pushing the cat out of the way so I could sit back down. No sooner than my ass had touched the leather fabric of the couch he was purring in my lap. I stroked his chin gently.

“Yeah I’m good. Work keeps me busy, but it pays the bills,” he chuckled. “So what’s happening back there? Has my older brother got himself a girl yet?”

“You know me, I’ve got many girls. None of them special though,” I laughed. Alex was obsessed with me finding a woman. Every time we spoke he asked me the same question, even though the answer never changed. Younger than me by two years, you’d be forgiven for thinking he was the older of us. Levelheaded and focused, he’d done whatever he needed to achieve his goals. Sure, I was great at getting what I wanted, but Alex did it with poise and respect. People liked my brother, whereas they were intimidated by me.

It scared me sometimes how alike my father and I were.

“Keep looking, Jack, you’ll meet her. How’s Dad?” His tone changed, the hurt and abandonment he felt over being excluded by our father still so raw, even after three years.

“Pigheaded, rude, and selfish. You know, the same,” I quipped, making him laugh.

“When are you going to get over here and visit me? There’s a whole country of women here you haven’t slept with yet,” he joked.

“I’ll get over there soon,” I promised, ignoring his dig. “I wouldn’t want to deny the women of L.A. the pleasure of my company,” I added, chuckling.

“That would be good. I really miss you, Jack. It would be great to catch up.”

“Yeah, it would be,” I agreed. I wiped my eyes, glad that I was alone. If anyone caught wind of this it would ruin my reputation. Jack Falcon showing emotion was like an honest politician: nobody would ever believe it. “You know what? I’ll do it. Give me a few weeks and I’ll take a week off and come over.”

“Really?” Alex sounded shocked.

“Yes, really. I can take time off, you know.” I said, not admitting that I was surprised myself. In three years I’d never taken time off. My holidays would’ve accumulated to quite a nice little amount by now. I laughed, imagining Dad’s face if I told him I was taking all my leave to go and visit Alex. It would almost be worth doing just to capture that look.

Chapter
Four

The rest of the week flew by uneventfully, and by Thursday I was glad it was almost the weekend. Leaving work close to seven in the evening was early for me. Usually I was at the office until after nine. Hungry, I stopped off at a burger place on the way home. Levine’s Burgers was as balanced and healthy as my diet got.

Sliding into a booth at the back of the restaurant, I picked up a menu. I decided on a works burger and thick cut chips, the first thing I set my eyes on. If you walked into this place without knowing anything about it, there was a good chance you’d walk right out. Its aging interior and daggy atmosphere made it a less-than-appealing place to eat. It wasn’t just convenience that led me here. Believe it or not, Levine’s held a lot of sentimental memories for me.

The first time I’d been there was as a child, way back before Mum left us. Mum had been a farmer’s daughter who had hooked up one night with my father during college and fallen pregnant with me. There was no love in their union at all; it was all about necessity. Dad’s father demanded they marry, so they did. What resulted was a very cold, emotionless relationship that carried over into childhood for my brother.

They were both full of blame and plenty of regret. Mum had to drop out of college and marry a man she didn’t love. Dad’s life didn’t change much. He was never really around, and being married certainly didn’t stop his screwing around. Mum was aware of his unfaithfulness, but she was also terrified of him.

When I was nine and Alex was seven, Mum went out one day to do some shopping and never came back. The note she left us in her room explained she couldn’t handle being our mother or my father’s wife any longer. As a nine-year-old, reading the words
‘I can’t handle being your mother’
was a kick in the guts. How could a child not take that to heart? For years I switched between blaming myself and blaming Dad for her leaving. Now, I just blame her.
She
made the decision to leave
us
. No matter how bad things are for you, how can you justify leaving your children in an environment you can’t handle yourself?

After she left, things with Dad became even more strained. If he was not around much before she left, afterwards we barely saw him at all. At nine, I had more contact with my nanny than my father, yet that didn’t stop the constant yearning I had to please him. Things finally changed in my teens. After years of being ignored, it was like suddenly at the age of sixteen I had become useful to my father. He included me and acknowledged me, though deep down I knew it was only for his benefit. If I wasn’t able to help, then I was no use. If I hadn’t shown any interest in the family business, then like Alex, I would’ve been ignored.

I often thought about Mum, especially when I went to Levine’s. It was the place of the last meal Alex and I had with my mother. Dad, of course, had been too busy working to eat with us.

“You ready to order?”

I glanced up at the uninterested waitress who stood with her pen poised, ready to take note. She looked about fifty, with curly red hair and freckles. I gave her my order and watched her as she walked back behind the counter.

The restaurant was pretty empty for a Thursday night. The young couple that sat two booths over were feeding each other chips in between smiling and giggling at each other. I rolled my eyes at their behavior. I turned and focused on the only other person in the place: a pretty woman who sat alone.

She looked young, probably early twenties, but there was something about her that I couldn’t put my finger on. Her cream-and-white striped dress that matched the other waitress’ outfit was a dead giveaway that she worked there. I hadn’t seen her before—not that I came in very often. She had the kind of face I’d remember, and coming from me that said a lot. Beauty was everywhere, and when you sleep with as many women as I did, it becomes difficult for beauty to stand out. But this woman did just that. She stood out from every other woman I’d been with or wanted to be with.

What exactly it was about her that drew my attention, I wasn’t quite sure. Her long dark hair hung down her back, layers flying everywhere. Every now and then she had to tuck the escaping strands back behind her ear, only to have them tumble right back out again. Her porcelain skin, so soft and creamy, looked even whiter against her dark red lips—lips that parted into a smile every few seconds as she read something on her phone. She looked up suddenly, my eyes darting away as she caught me staring.

Something inside me squirmed. Was that embarrassment I felt? Since when did a woman make me feel anything besides the need for a good fuck? I busied myself with my own phone, her gaze still burning into me, while my emotions tangled inside me like a confused mess.

“Enjoy.”

I jumped as the waitress dumped my meal in front of me with as much grace as a clown on acid, sending my fork flying across the cracked tiled floor. As I bent down to retrieve it, I inadvertently caught the gaze of my mystery girl who had looked up to see what all the commotion was. She smiled, her deep green eyes darting back down to her phone before I could respond with my own gesture.

The burger was good, albeit a little greasy. The cold, stale chips I didn’t touch. Downing the last of my water, I stood up, leaving a twenty pound note on the table. I passed the now empty table where my mystery girl had been sitting, her floral and musky perfume floating past my senses. I hadn’t noticed her leave, and the disappointment I felt surprised me.

Outside, I rifled through my pockets for my keys and approached my car. My mind was still on her. I kept seeing those stunning lips curve upwards into a smile. I should have approached her while I had the chance, not that I had any idea what I would’ve said. My usual lines wouldn’t have worked on her, nor would I have wanted to use them. This girl felt different. She hadn’t reacted to my attention at all, which unnerved me a little bit.

“Shit.” The faint feminine curse came from around the corner. Edging my way around, I saw her. She was kicking the tire of a car, presumably hers. Even from my distance away, I could see it was flat. My heart raced as I watched, the glow from the streetlamp next to the car radiating off her.

“Are you all right?” I asked, walking slowly toward her. She jumped, shocked by my presence, her face guarded. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as my blood pulsated through my veins. I breathed out, not sure if it was the cool breeze or my close proximity to this beauty that was the cause of my symptoms.

“Flat tire,” she explained, gesturing toward the wheel. “And flat phone.” She held up her cell as if it were evidence. She leaned against the bonnet of the car, her legs crossed and her jacked wrapped tightly around her body. Even through the layers of clothes her body looked amazing, her bare legs seemingly going on forever.

“Can I give you a lift somewhere?” I asked, cocking my head. She hesitated, as if she were weighing up her options. “I promise I’m not a serial killer,” I added, chuckling. Fuck, I could feel my dick hardening at her nervousness.

“Would you tell me if you were?” she asked skeptically, biting her lip.

“Pardon?” I asked, swallowing a laugh.

“You know,” she pressed, “a serial killer. I mean, you wouldn’t be a very good one if you went around telling your victims you were a killer, but still…” Her voice trailed off.

“Honey, do I look like I would hurt a fly?” I asked, shrugging as if the idea were ridiculous. She eyed me skeptically, which made me laugh nervously. It was like she saw right through the fifteen years’ worth of barriers I’d built up around myself to the real me. The one I never showed anyone.

“I don’t know.” She looked down at my pocket where my hand was shoved. “Can I borrow your phone?” she asked. Wordlessly, I handed it to her, my eyebrows raised as my fingers brushed over hers. The feel of her skin against mine hit me like a lightning bolt and all I wanted to do was pull her into my arms and kiss those sexy lips. 

She dialed and held the phone to her ear.

“Hi, my car has a flat, can you pick me up?” she spoke quietly, her body turned away from me slightly. “An hour?” she glanced back at me, sighing. “No, it’s okay. I might have a lift.” She hung up the phone and handed it back to me.

“So, you’re accepting my ride?” I grinned, sliding my phone back into my pocket. She nodded.

“Only if you’re sure it’s okay, and you promise not to murder me. I’m not far away, just off North.” Her hair blew erratically in the wind as she tried to tame it by twisting it around in a knot.