What About Us Read online

  My heart is happy, and I put aside my troubles and focus on the list she left. I don’t know where to start, but it’s not rocket science. I’ll tackle the items one by one.

  By seven in the evening, I’m exhausted, but I’m dressed and ready for the event. But Alex isn’t home yet, and I wonder if he decided to go solo. He may have thought I quit. He hasn’t called once.

  As I walk down the stairs, I spot Alex fussing with his cuff links in the living room. Startled, I drop the bag that I was planning to return to my car, and he turns to me. His hands still and he gives me a once-over, from the tip of my toes up to the top of my head. He then turns his attention back to his cuff. “Are you ready?”

  “I didn’t know you were home. I thought perhaps you’d gone without me—maybe you thought I didn’t come back to work.”

  “I saw you come in this morning through the cameras. You were showering when I came in.”

  He’s still not looking at me. “I didn’t know if I’d have time to go shower at my place and then come back here. I hope it’s okay that I got ready here.”

  “You don’t have a place.”

  Jesus, the air is so thick with all our unresolved problems, but at least he hasn’t fired me.

  “There’s always the Holiday Inn,” I quip with a fake smile, which he doesn’t even see.

  He finishes with his cuffs, then gestures to my bag. “Leave that aside. You can get it later. Let’s go.”

  So, I’m getting asshole Alex tonight. Why I thought that perhaps we’d reached some sort of temporary truce is beyond me. With all the hurtful things flung around yesterday, it’s obvious we have issues with each other, but I thought we could at least be civil. He didn’t fire me and I didn’t quit. That had to mean something. Or so I thought. Obviously, it meant nothing to him. Alex is a changed man, one who will never be happy, especially around me. I mean, Jesus Christ, even sex didn’t make him happy.

  Alex

  All night and day, I try to forget how Helen felt when I fucked her. I hate even calling it a fuck—even if that is exactly what it was. But, damn, she felt so perfect around my cock. Tight and warm—made just for me. And knowing that I was her first kiss, I have a mountain of regrets. The topmost being that I didn’t do something twelve years ago to ensure I would be her last kiss. The thought of other men touching her makes me want to punch the wall, repeatedly.

  I’m pacing around the room when I look up. My tongue is stuck to the back of my throat and I can’t speak or think; Helen is standing a foot away from me looking breathtaking. I miss the small hole in my cuff a dozen times trying to ignore the wispy lavender material of her skirt and the fitted bodice that molds softly to her small waist and breasts. Instead of saying what I’m actually thinking—which is all the ways I want to rip off the dress and take her against the wall, floor, and bed—I walk past her and open the front door of the house in an effort to get away from her.

  What happened yesterday can’t happen again. We’re not good for each other, and I hate that I hurt her as much as she says I did. Now that I’ve had time to think about what she told me yesterday, I can’t help but believe her. And that has me completely fucked up in the head. My father’s dead and it’s her father’s fault. Even if she’s not in any way responsible, I can’t just stop disliking her from one moment to the next. And the fact that she doesn’t think her father did anything wrong adds a whole other layer to my already befuddled head.

  She walks through the door that I’m holding open for her and I can’t help but glance at the scoop neck ending right above her breasts, showing just a hint of what I ache to touch again. I wish I’d gotten a chance to see her naked. If I was only going to have the chance to have sex with Helen once in my life, I stupidly squandered it by fucking her quickly and savagely against the wall. I should’ve stripped her of every inch of clothing she had. I should’ve taken my time worshiping her body, first with my hands, then with my mouth. It’s what I wanted to do twelve years ago when I stole that kiss from her.

  Twelve years ago, she was everything I needed and didn’t even know I wanted, and I had wanted so much more. But she was young and innocent, so I stopped myself. But yesterday, I took it all.

  And then I fucked it all up.

  She slides into the limo first and I follow. The way she handles herself screams money and propriety. Someone who knows how to taunt a man but still does it in a respectable way.

  This is not a woman who belongs in a strip club or who should be living in a motel. Even without the jewels I’m accustomed to seeing on women, even with her dress, which I know is not from the store I asked Monique to send her to, she’s still classy. Even with all the money lacking, Helen’s still class and wealth through and through. And she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. So much so, I feel lost.

  I feel like my father did when he didn’t have his numbers around.

  Lost and unable to focus.

  My heart beats faster and I feel a sense of dread.

  “Jeez, you could’ve at least complimented the way I look. Arrangement or not,” she mutters, buckling herself in.

  Fuck. I should’ve said out loud everything I was thinking. I should’ve…

  Not one used to talking about my feelings, I exhale loudly and look out the window.

  Helen

  I never needed anyone’s approval to feel good about myself. Not even when I was homeless. But right now, I can feel the heat rising up my neck to my cheeks. This man was used to a certain kind of woman. I look down at my dress and run my hand down the chiffon on my lap and fumble with the zipper of my cheap secondhand purse.

  Why does this man make me feel so insecure? Somehow he brings back all the painful memories from my past with just the way he watches me quietly and judgmentally.

  “So, what are we?” My voice comes out in a weird croak. I clear my throat and try again. His head slowly turns my way, almost distractedly, but because I’ve known him my entire life, I observe that tick in his jaw and the tightening around his lips, and I know he’s wondering what the hell I’m talking about. “If people ask, what do we say? What am I to you?” I explain further. Alex isn’t a talker. Never has been. And that just makes me talk more. “The hired help? A recent hookup? The ex-stripper you saved?” I snort out, nervously, and that tightening around his lips intensifies. He finally looks at me and studies me quietly. It’s so intense I have to look away.

  “An old friend.”

  I nod slowly and through the lump in my throat, say, “An old friend. Got it.”

  The car stops, and the driver climbs out and opens the door for us. Alex steps out first, then reaches for my hand, and I carefully slide out of the car, his big, warm palm swallowing mine. I need to adjust my dress, but for some odd reason he’s holding me tight, as if he doesn’t want to let go. I don’t want to let go either.

  Damn it. Why can’t I hate him? I should hate him.

  But he hurt me and I’m not letting myself fall into that trap again. I pull my hand away, gathering my wits, and straighten my gown. He juts out his elbow and I slide my hand through the crook of his arm, and together we make our way inside the gala.

  It’s been over a decade, but a girl never forgets how to gala.

  And one thing years at boarding school and etiquette school taught me is how to gala.

  We walk through the entrance of the grand ballroom at the Biltmore and immediately memories of another life flood in.

  Smile.

  Posture.

  Head up.

  Make eye contact.

  Speak when spoken to.

  A server walks by with a tray, and Alex takes two champagne flutes and hands me one. “There’s a silent auction, speech, dinner, and then we leave. Any questions?”

  No dancing? No mingling? Geez—everythin
g with him is truly so methodical.

  I can’t help but tip my hand across my forehead. “Yes, sir.” His eyes narrow at me and I add, “Loosen up. I got this.”

  We walk to the silent auction area, stopping every so often so Alex can greet people, even if this looks like the last place he wants to be. Cordially but completely lacking in interest or patience, he introduces me to everyone. “Helen Blackwood.” Or “An old friend, Helen Blackwood.”

  I’m standing next to Alex, smiling politely and making small talk, when I notice two of the women I met earlier, daughters of some big-to-do investors, looking at me and whispering. Normally, I don’t care and I can just brush things like this off. But I’m feeling out of sorts in this arena—an arena that used to feel like home to me. The glitz and glamour, hypocrisy and pomp, these are all things from what feels like a completely different life. I wonder…was that me? Did I giggle and gossip in corners with my girlfriends, like these two women? And if so, I wonder whose feelings I hurt in the process. Damn, this is the first time I realized that not only do I not belong in this social circle, I don’t think I even like this social circle.

  I take another flute of champagne and down it, when I feel Alex’s arm around my waist. Alex is so warm and consuming, standing next to me, holding me like I’m with him. Not pretending to be with him, but “with him” with him. I glance up at him, the bubbles from the champagne making me a little tipsy. He looks at me and shakes his head. “Don’t get sloppy,” he whispers in my ear, nodding to the empty glass in my hand.

  He wasn’t holding me.

  He was conspicuously reprimanding me.

  Angrily, I discard my glass on a nearby tray. I’m here to work. Suck it up and be the doting date. When you get home, or to the limo at least, you can bitch at him all you want. I spend the next hour smiling and chitchatting while planning all the ways I’m going to strangle Alex with his own tie.

  “I’m going to go to the restroom—I’ll be right back,” I tell him as we’re taking our seats for dinner.

  I make my way to the ladies’ room, strolling in behind some matronly looking women. “…And that color? Lavender? Baby blue? I guess Alex likes slumming it.” I stop in my tracks and glance around, immediately spotting the two women who were watching me earlier apply their lipstick as they talk openly about me. It’s a long bathroom and there are a lot of women walking in and out, so they don’t notice when I sneak into a stall and continue to listen to them. I should walk away. Nothing good ever comes out of eavesdropping, but I can’t help it.

  “Remember when I went on that date with him?” They laugh. “The guy has money but zero personality. He must be into some weird kink or something. I mean, he didn’t even react when I tried to seduce him.”

  “Maybe she’s an escort? I wouldn’t be surprised given that cheap dress—did you see the hem? If I pull one thread it’ll unravel,” the other woman laughs. “But no there’s no way Alexander Archer would hire such a cheap hooker.”

  “And those lips, gah! She looks like a blowfish.” They giggle to themselves as one of the women makes guppy noises into the air. Instantly, my hand goes to my mouth. Maybe I shouldn’t have worn lipstick. My lips have always been full and I’ve always thought they were my best feature. Now, I’m regretting the dark shade of pink I used on them.

  “I bet that’s exactly why she’s with him. She probably knows how to suck him off. What else would it be?”

  “Well, it’s definitely not her boobs.” They laugh again. “What is she? A ten-year-old boy?”

  I refuse to cry, but I’ve had enough. I step out of the bathroom and walk right up to the mirrors beside them. They look over at me and gasp when they realize I heard what they said. I arch a brow as I take out my lipstick to reapply it. I can’t do anything about my lips, so may as well flaunt them.

  These two catty bitches are not worth my anger and definitely and absolutely not my tears. I pop my lips loudly as I blot and stare at them right in the face. “Yep, my blowjobs are magnificent,” I lie. “Better go run along to your dates before I blow them too.”

  They have the decency to look embarrassed as they quickly shuffle out of the bathroom.

  I close my eyes and exhale. Even if I feigned being unaffected by their vile words, I’ve never felt lower in my life. Not even when I was homeless.

  With my head held high, I walk out of the restroom and to the table. When Alex sees me, he stands and pulls out my chair. “Everything okay?” he asks.

  “Peachy.”

  Alex

  What the hell could’ve happened in ten minutes? She’s not the same woman who went into the restroom. She’s not chatting or laughing or generally being Helen. She’s sitting with her hands on her lap and a fake smile plastered on her face. The servers come by with our meals and I watch her as she just shuffles the food around the plate, barely eating a thing.

  “Is there something wrong with your meal?” I ask.

  Again, that emotionless smile. “No. It’s good.”

  “Then why aren’t you eating any of it?”

  She looks down at her plate as if just realizing she didn’t eat. “Oh, uh…not very hungry.”

  I eye her curiously but decide whatever it is, it’s not my business. Except that it is my business. Literally. She’s my employee, and she’s embarrassing me with her lack of conversation. That is, after all, why I needed her here in the first place.

  I’m momentarily distracted when the daughters of one of the biggest investors in one of my companies approach our table. What are their names again? Oh right, Susan and…Silvana? Susan taps Helen’s shoulder, who turns around, surprised.

  “I…we…we’re really sorry about…about, well, you know. Anyway, we feel awful about it.”

  Helen nods and turns back to her plate. The girls look at each other, taken aback by her lack of response or acceptance of their apology. With mouths open in shock, they walk away.

  I look at Helen incredulously. “That was rather rude of you.” I look around to see if anyone was paying attention to us.

  She drops her fork on her plate and it clanks loudly. “Rude of me?” she seethes, but I can see her eyes are glassy.

  Oh shit…is she crying?

  My heart skips a beat. I don’t know what I’ll do if she cries. But Helen knows better than to make a scene at an important event like this, so she squares her shoulders. “What exactly did I do that was rude, Alexander?”

  “You could’ve accepted their apology.”

  “That was an apology?” She rolls her eyes.

  “Yes, it was. What could they have possibly done?”

  She turns those big, wide eyes at me. Cold. Smoldering with anger or hurt, or both. “They called me a cheap whore.”

  Now it’s my turn to drop the fork. I was not expecting that. “What?”

  “You heard me. Aside from making fun of my cheap clothes, they called me a whore and said that you probably only wanted me for my blowjobs. You know, big lips, and all.”

  “Helen…” I whisper, not knowing what exactly to say, but she just continues, her cold, lifeless eyes jabbing me with the hurt she’s trying to keep bottled up inside. “But I suppose that’s not too far from the truth these days. You did buy me, after all.”

  I’m speechless. Completely speechless. I’m also fuming. Who the hell do those little brats think they are? I abruptly push my chair back and stand. “It’s time to go.” I don’t want her to have to endure one more second of this place, these people.

  She reaches for a bread roll from the center of the table. I notice the other guests sitting around us watching. She smiles, that fake fucking smile. “Is that a question or a statement?”

  I bend down and whisper, “A demand. Let’s go.”

  She drops the roll and stands. “Your wish is my command…
Boss.”

  I can’t deal with this woman. I swear to God, she makes me crazy. Absolutely fucking insane. I don’t know whether to strangle her or kiss her. Pleasantly, she says her goodbyes to everyone and walks out with her arm around the crook of my elbow as if everything is just perfect, when I know for a fact she’s hurt or pissed—or both.

  I fucked up. Big time. Again.

  I’ve treated her much the same as Susan and Silvana did. I may not have come right out and said those hurtful things directly to her, but I haven’t not said them, either.

  When we get back to the limo she sits as far away from me as she possibly can, and it pisses me off. But I get it. I’ve hurt her. It may have been through those two bitches, but it reflects on me. Suddenly the anger I’ve been holding on to for so long seems insignificant compared to the pain Helen’s feeling. “They hurt you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  I run my hand through my hair. Damn it. She’s so proud. She’ll never admit it. “I know their words cut you deep.”

  “Stop,” she says, but I hear her voice break.

  “Baby…” It just leaves my mouth. It’s a whisper, but it’s loud enough that her head jerks around to look at me, her eyes wide as saucers. I don’t know where that endearment came from, but it’s so natural flowing from my lips. I swallow and then take a deep breath. “They hurt you.”

  She turns her head back to the window without another word.

  “First thing Monday I’m buying Jared’s shares of my company,” I announce.

  “What? Who?”

  “Jared. Susan and Silvana’s father. They won’t be able to afford one more designer handbag.”

  She looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “What?” I ask, exasperated.

  She shakes her head in disgust. “Money doesn’t fix everything, Alex.” Her voice breaks.

  “Yes, it does.”

  “No, Alex. It doesn’t. You think by hurting their bank accounts you’ll make things right with me?” Her head shakes side to side, again. “Don’t you see? By doing that, you’re just as bad as they are.”