Bittersweet Lies (Bittersweet-Series Book 1) Page 6

  I merely want to get this thing over with quickly. See him, thank him, receive some stupid reply, then leave and finally enjoy the evening.

  Sounds like a great plan, right?

  Reluctantly, I push through the crowd, past the dancing bodies that move rhythmically to the booming beats coming out of the speakers, blocking out everything around them.

  Here the air is stuffy. The smell of sweat, perfume, and alcohol assault me, overpowering my senses and awakens the desire to escape. Before I lose myself and give in to the pull of the music.

  Naked hot skin touches mine, hands that touch me uninhibitedly, tempting me to stay. Bodies pressing close to mine and the unbearable heat that threatens to rob me of my remaining oxygen. And all for one man.

  A sigh of relief slips out of my mouth when I realize I’ve almost reached my goal.

  The VIP lounge, located in a secluded part of the club.

  I can sense his presence even before I discover him, which sounds totally absurd even to me.

  Searching, my gaze travels over many nameless faces until I come across a pair of dark blue eyes staring intensely at me.

  Even though I’m the one who is looking for him, it feels like I played nicely into his hands just like he expected from me.

  Instead of approaching him and finally putting an end to the matter, I stand frozen in place, unable to take my eyes off him for a single second.

  The look in his ice-blue eyes pierces me, sees behind the facade I’m laboriously trying to maintain. His beautiful mouth adopts that irresistible smile, which usually appears when he is satisfied. Almost, as if he knows perfectly well what’s going on in my head.

  With legs slightly spread, arm resting on the back of the expensive black leather couch, top buttons of the black shirt undone, sleeves casually rolled halfway up – he sits there.

  Arrogant.

  Male.

  And incredibly sexy.

  God, I hate myself, my stupid hormones, and him for looking so damn good.

  For a moment, I forget why I’m here and imagine how it would be to hop onto his lap.

  Legs spread far apart, hands wrapped around his neck, while those sinful lips press against my sensitive neck and he mimics the movements of my hips.

  “Who is this person, Blake?” an incredibly annoying voice rips me from my thoughts.

  I frantically suppress the urge to quickly cover my ears and tear my gaze from his attractive face to search for the origin of the shrill sound, which is not particularly difficult.

  Her baby-blue eyes seem to shoot poison darts in my direction and the way her perfectly manicured hand grabs his thigh speaks volumes.

  She’s into him and marking her territory.

  Who does she think she is impressing with that ridiculous behavior?

  With her long black mane clip-on extension, fake eyelashes and fingernails, and silicon breasts that threaten to pop out of her red hooker dress at any moment now, and the perfectly augmented pouty mouth, she looks like a living Barbie doll.

  So this is the type of woman he’s into.

  Interesting. I credited him with more class.

  “Nobody,” he replies bored and I roll my eyes in annoyance.

  Did I expect anything else?

  “Then why is she standing there ogling you?” Barbie asks in that horrible voice of hers, glaring at me hostilely.

  Yeah, why is that?

  I should just turn around, choke out my thanks, which he would not be interested in anyway, and let those two have their fucking alone time.

  So why then does just the thought of leaving him behind with that doll make me want to puke?

  “Why don’t you just ask her yourself?” he addresses Barbie as he sizes me up.

  Great idea. It might be an opportunity for us to engage in great conversation and become best friends.

  What’s this shit?

  He knows I’m here for him, yet he lets this chick do … do what exactly? Outshine me? To show me he has chosen her, not me? That he doesn’t give a shit about my concern?

  “So?” She arches one of her expertly plucked eyebrows expectantly, which is supposed to impress me.

  Does Blake seriously think I have to answer to someone like her?

  “So, what? This is a matter between him and me. I’m not aware that my private life is any of your business.”

  Naturally, my icy voice isn’t lost on him while rebuking her.

  Barbie looks questioning up at him and leans even closer toward him, which make her fake tits press against his upper arm. “Blake?”

  “No worries, babe.”

  Babe? Is he serious?

  “What do you want, Brooke?” he asks and puts a hand on Barbie’s bare thigh, who in turn throws me a triumphant look.

  Bitch!

  “Can I speak briefly to you alone?” I ask, controlling myself while trying to ignore the black toxin.

  “If you have something to say, say it here.”

  “Blake, please,” I say again, suppressing a snort.

  Say, is this for real? Am I actually begging him right now?

  If he doesn’t want to talk to me, he can simply say so rather than ridiculing me in front of his girlfriend.

  “So?” His face is completely expressionless, his gaze dark and intense.

  The same question Barbie tried on me, the only subtle difference, with him I have the stupid need to answer instantly.

  My eyes fixated on his hand, the spot where his thumb gently caresses her skin. I bite my lower lip to keep from growling.

  That he’s touching another woman shouldn’t bother me, but damn, it sure bothers me.

  “I just came to thank you for earlier,” I explain shortly, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

  “For what?” Now Barbie’s curiosity apparently seems to have been aroused.

  You know exactly what I’m talking about! my inner voice screams furiously at him.

  As if he had heard, a knowing smile creeps across his lips at that moment.

  He wants me to say it out loud?

  Fine, so be it.

  “For taking care of the chaos in the hallway and saving me from unpleasant questions,” I reply in a firm voice, eyeing him challengingly.

  “Blake, is this true? You helped this … this person?”

  “This person has a name, Barbie,” I growl now anyway.

  “What?” she snorts outraged.

  “You heard me.”

  Will the remainder of the conversation progress in this manner?

  He asks me something and I answer while Barbie constantly interferes?

  He’s enjoying this, I know it. The way his girlfriend gets on my nerves with her stupid questions, while he sits on the luxurious sofa like some goddamn prince, watching unimpressed.

  He wants to see my reaction. See if I make a mistake and drop the facade. It’s part of his game.

  He’s trying to fool me. He deliberately wants to keep me at bay using hurtful words, but I won’t make it easy and give him the satisfaction. Sooner or later, he has to talk to me and until such time, I’ll play his game.

  I’m aware the stakes are high and that my plan is more than risky. I can only hope that when all is said and done, I don’t end up the loser.

  “I think it’s time for you to leave,” he says. His voice sounds so low and rough it creates an involuntary run of goose bumps across my back.

  I swallow.

  Did he really just tell Barbie to take a hike? To talk to me?

  Perhaps I misjudged him after all.

  “You’ve heard him,” I address her, unable to suppress the satisfaction resonating in my voice.

  Let’s be honest, I really didn’t care. Let her know her place.

  “Go find a guy who’s into low class.”

  Barbie’s already big eyes grow even larger as soon as I make my announcement and she looks at me dumbfounded.

  A quick glance to the left lets me know what’s going on. The telltale twitch o
f the corners of his mouth says it all.

  Our performance amuses him.

  For a tiny moment, I even regret my words until I recall how incredibly rude she behaved toward me.

  Usually, I’m not rattled so quickly. My mother tested my steadfastness daily so that at one point her nasty remarks no longer affected me.

  With Blake, however, my oh-so-carefully constructed facade seems to crumble for good.

  He gets under my skin, makes me feel vulnerable and weak.

  These constant ups and downs and associated emotional chaos are completely new experiences for me.

  “It wasn’t meant for her, but you,” he replies soberly, his ice-blue eyes focused on me.” Firm and relentless.

  His face is completely expressionless, distant and cool, while my heart seems to stand still for endless seconds.

  Just one sentence coming out of his sinful mouth is sufficient enough to rob my lungs of all oxygen, leaving me staggering and stunned.

  He wants to draw me out my reserve, but I won’t do him that favor.

  No.

  I won’t make a scene, even if everything inside of me yearns to give him a resounding slap in the face so he knows where to stick his fucking arrogance.

  Ignoring Barbie’s malicious grin, I square my shoulders and withstand his look.

  “Were you the one who helped me or not?” I ask through clenched teeth while trying to keep the furious rage seething inside me in check.

  He does not reply, merely his features seem to soften for a moment, granting me a glimpse behind the tough facade.

  I nod and close my eyes for a few seconds before I whisper a quiet thanks and, without giving those two another look, I turn on my heels.

  “And? How did the conversation with my brother go?” Liam asks as I sit back down next to him.

  “Wow,” I reply shaking my head and let out an annoyed sigh. “Am I really that transparent?”

  “Well, the restrooms are located in the opposite direction,” he replies grinning, to which I silently praise myself for my well-thought-out plan.

  “Besides, you left your handbag and I don’t know a single woman who takes a step without her holiest item.” His grin widens with the last part.

  “Whether you believe it or not, I’m actually one of those rare specimens who can go to the restroom without her purse.”

  “Are you sure you’re a woman?” he inquires with a wink of an eye.

  “I would like to convince you of it, but then we might get kicked out of this joint sooner than we like.”

  “Now it’s getting interesting.” His look grows a shade darker.

  “Baby, we live in one of the biggest states, you can find a club on almost every street corner. To hell with the consequences, I’ll take the show.”

  “Maybe some other time,” I reply evasively, sipping my cocktail.

  That he accepted my proposal – obviously, completely thoughtless and meant as a joke! – gladly, I should have known.

  “You’re backing out?” He sounds somewhat disappointed.

  “I’m sure Missy will be only too happy to take my place and give you your show,” I say derisively, biting the inside of my cheek to refrain from making any further nasty comments.

  “Misty,” he corrects me.

  “What?”

  “Her name is Misty,” he repeats slowly, looking at me intensely.

  Why the hell are his lips pulled again into that smug grin that I find so damn appealing?

  “Whatever,” I reply bored, making a dismissive hand gesture.

  As far as I’m concerned, the red-haired beast’s name is still Missy, which Liam does not need to know.

  “Hey,” he says gently, putting his index finger firmly under my chin, and raises my head.

  “The only show I want to see is yours.” The gaze of his amber-colored eyes, which remind me of liquid gold, touches something deep inside of me, which I cannot put into words.

  “Okay,” I mumble, giving him a candid smile.

  “You really have changed.”

  “Oh yeah? I have?” he asks and raises his eyebrows.

  “Yeah. I have no idea what happened in the last three years, but I hardly recognize you,” I answer honestly and carefully pull out of his grip.

  When he touches me like that, it’s hard for me to focus and keep a level head. Unfortunately, this seems to be the norm with him.

  He reaches for his drink, raises the glass, and takes a big gulp. All the while never taking his eyes off me.

  “How exactly have I changed?” he wants to know and looks curiously at me.

  “I always thought of you as being cute and innocent. A shy guy who wants nothing to do with girls, who’d rather spend his spare time reading books or fiddling with technical stuff. Basically, the complete opposite of the man before me now.”

  “So what, you no longer find me cute?” he inquires, leaning back in his seat.

  “That’s not what I meant,” I defend myself and mimic him by also taking a big sip of my cocktail.

  I feel the alcohol coursing through my veins, numbing my senses, making me feel more relaxed. For someone who has only consumed a few alcoholic drinks in her life, it is probably a normal reaction.

  “How did you mean it then?” That hint of a smile on his lips and that provocative gaze he stares at me with urges me to answer.

  The confidence oozing from his every pore – all of it mixes into a dangerous cocktail.

  “You are intelligent, confident, and know what you want. I don’t have to tell you the effect you have on the female gender, do I?

  What I’m actually trying to say is that nothing resembles the shy, innocent boy from the past.

  To be honest, your sovereign way can even be intimidating at times, besides flustering me continuously.

  On the other hand, there are frequent times where you can be really sweet, even coax a smile out of me. So, you sure can be nice, providing it’s in your interest.”

  It seems the alcohol did not only loosen me up, but my tongue as well. Right now, I don’t yet know what to make it of it, but I’m sure I’ll find out.

  Honesty never hurt anybody, even though for years my mother made me believe differently.

  “Speechless?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything and continues to stare at me.

  “You’re still as cute as you were back then, you know that?” His face is serious as he leans forward and wraps my hand in his. Like earlier when he put Missy in her place.

  “I’m merely being honest,” I say softly, looking at his fingers, which touch me as if it was natural.

  A deep male laugh bursts out of his throat before he answers me.

  “So, you’re saying I’m irresistible to the female sex? Does that include you?”

  “It might,” I answer cryptically, clamping the pink straw between my lips for another sip. The cocktail tastes surprisingly fruity-sweet and not – as expected – too much of vodka.

  His gaze darkens as he focuses on the sucking movements of my lips.

  “I could tickle the truth out of you …” he threatens.

  I can see mischief flashing in his eyes and gasp indignantly.

  “You wouldn’t dare!” My eyes narrow slightly as I try to gauge if he is serious.

  He couldn’t remember how ticklish I am, could he?

  His fingers disengage from the back of my hand and inch by inch crawl up my forearm.

  All the while his fingertips caress my now standing on end hair, which only intensifies my goose bumps.

  “You really want to find out?” he whispers and pauses.

  “I don’t think that’s wise,” I whisper and as I am about to take a sip from my drink to help calm me, I realize my glass is already empty. “Oh.”

  “How about you tell me about your conversation with my brother and I’ll order you another yucky-sweet cocktail?”

  “I cannot help that you lack taste, Mr. White,” I say sugary sweet, depriving him of my arm.


  “I could convince you otherwise …” he says enigmatically, “… but then we’ll probably get kicked out of this club,” he finishes the sentence with an unmistakable look.

  “Who knows? Maybe I’ll take you up on it some other time.”

  “Yes, maybe,” he mumbles.

  “So? What did Blake do now?”

  Blake.

  When I hear that name, I simply would like to sigh continuously and roll my eyes. This is becoming a bad habit.

  “Well, I don’t know where to start.”

  “Best at the beginning,” he suggests, smiling encouragingly at me.

  “I merely wanted to thank him and instead of accepting it like any normal adult human being, he gets all condescending. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he allows some Barbie-bimbo to humiliate me and shows how little he cares about me.”

  “Thank him?” he asks puzzled. “For what?”

  “My clothes in the hallway,” I start hesitantly, “…it wasn’t me but him who cleared them away.

  As I was on my way to the bathroom, I accidentally ran into him. As a result, my stuff ended up scattered all over the floor.”

  It’s funny, but it feels good to talk to him about the matter. Those who lie will face unpleasant questions sooner or later. And since this way seems the easiest to me – especially when dealing with my mother – I choose it.

  “Why didn’t you just clean up the mess?” he inquires.

  And there it is. Exactly what I meant.

  “We had a little difference of opinion,” I reluctantly admit and grind my teeth.

  “It got a little out of control and as soon as he turned into an ass, I simply wanted to get away. I completely forgot about my things.”

  “Yeah, unfortunately that sounds like him,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

  “I don’t know what happened, but ever since you guys stopped seeing each other, he turned into a cold-hearted asshole who regards women as entertainment.”

  “So, you also don’t know what’s gotten into him?” I ask, feeling my hope that he can provide me with sought after answers, gradually disappearing.

  “I’m sorry to have to disappoint you, but you have to figure out the reason yourself.” He throws me an apologetic look.