When Lola was fourteen , she’d stolen makeup from a nearby drugstore. Some crimes were small. Some were big. Some were never found out—like the makeup—and then, were they really crimes at all? Lola paced in front of the window, pausing every few minutes to see the sun a little lower. She didn’t even need what she’d taken. For years, she’d walked an extra four blocks to a different drugstore.
Lola stopped her march to watch the building across the street eat the last sliver of sun. Almost right away, a black limo appeared through the complex gate.
By the way her palms sweat and her heart pounded like they had fifteen years ago, Lola knew instinctively—she shouldn’t get in that limo. There was more at stake than Johnny realized. Maybe enough to change them permanently. What kind of crime was it to do it anyway? If nobody knew but her, did it matter?
Beau had sent over a large box earlier that day with a red bow around it. The gift was lavish—a gold, beaded dress that crisscrossed in the back and had one slit all the way to her upper right thigh. Johnny had played it off—Beau had to pay for Lola’s attention, and Johnny got that for free. But Lola had ignored him, running her fingers over the intricate beadwork. She didn’t need to be pampered or spoiled, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t nice once in a while.
Lola had waited to change until Johnny’d left for work. She’d done her makeup, attempting to recreate her look from her first evening with Beau so he’d look at her again the way he had in the reflection of the salon’s mirror. This time, though, she left her hair down.
Lola opened the door before Warner had a chance to knock. “Good evening, Miss Winters. Mr. Olivier is ready for you.”
She locked the apartment behind her. “How long have you worked for Beau?” she asked as they curved around the pool and crossed the courtyard.
Warner kept his eyes forward. “Almost ten years.”
“You must’ve been young when you started.”
“Only a few years older than Mr. Olivier.”
“Have you always wanted to—drive? Do you do other things?”
“I also drive Miss Leroux.”
“Who?”
He leaned forward and opened the limo door. Beau had a pile of papers on his lap and a phone to his ear. He nodded at her and covered the mouthpiece. “Wait there a moment.” He returned to his conversation as Lola stood on the sidewalk. Warner had disappeared.
Beau hung up without even a goodbye. He made a note on the paperwork in his lap, then tossed it on the car floor. He smiled up at her—like he was a king who’d just returned from a long day ruling his kingdom and had found her waiting for him. He got out of the car.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He stood up to his full height and looked down on her. He lifted her chin with his knuckle, and just that one point of contact covered her in goose bumps. She’d selected her highest heels for the evening, but her head still tilted back for Beau.
“Thank you for dressing the part tonight,” he said. “Though you were stunning in old jeans, something this beautiful finally does you justice.”
He was sincere. The compliments he paid her never seemed to serve as a means to get something, even a reaction. It made her uncharacteristically weak in the knees.
“Any credit goes to the dress,” she said. “Thank you for sending it.”
Neither of them looked away. There were memories in the way they took from each other’s eyes. For Lola, it was the way she fit into his arms as they fell asleep. It was the way he fucked her like he owned her.
“Let’s go inside.”
She took an automatic step back, blinking everything between them away. “Inside?” she asked, touching her chin where he’d just touched her. “What?”
“I’d like to see your place.”
“No.”
“No?” His tone was reminder enough that no matter what moments they’d had, he was in charge.
She panicked and blurted the first thing that came to her. “We can’t. Johnny’s home.”
“I don’t believe you. Last time he watched from the window.”
She hadn’t known that. She glanced over her shoulder. “Well, okay, you’re right—he’s…he’s at work, but—”
“He didn’t stay to see you off?” Beau asked, tilting his head.
“We decided it was better this way. The whole emotional goodbye thing was hard last time.”
“So then it shouldn’t be a problem. If you don’t want him to know, don’t tell him.” He took a step, but she moved into his path.
“Why?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I want a glimpse into your life. It will help complete the picture in my head.”
Her apartment was the last piece of her and Johnny Beau hadn’t infiltrated. It was Johnny’s kingdom, but she worried Beau would make it his the moment he walked in. “I’m not comfortable with that.”
Beau made a point of turning and squinting at the sky behind him. It was still light out, but the sun was gone. He looked back at Lola. “Should we review the terms of our agreement?”
Sweat coated her upper lip. She licked it away. “No. That won’t be necessary.”
He inclined forward as if to kiss her and stopped. He’d taken his time the first night to make sure she was comfortable, but they were past that now. Did he need an invitation? She resisted the urge to lick her lips a second time.
He turned away to take something from the car and close the door. “Go ahead, ma chatte. Lead the way.”
She went back the way she’d just come, Beau close behind her. Despite her wariness of his request, her body thrummed being with him again. She jiggled the key a few times until the lock gave and cleared her throat. “It’s stubborn.”
Beau walked into the apartment with one hand in his pocket. Under his arm was a medium-sized package wrapped in brown craft paper. Another present? It was uncomfortable, him spending money on her when he’d paid so much for one evening. He’d already given her the dress, and whatever plans they had tonight that warranted such a gown wouldn’t come cheap.
He glanced up at the ceiling, then at a pillow on the couch. Johnny’d slept there the night before since he’d been unusually restless and hadn’t wanted to keep Lola awake. Beau wandered across the room and looked down the hallway toward their bedroom.
“I wasn’t expecting company,” Lola said, picking up Johnny’s dishes from the coffee table. She carried them to the sink.
Beau found her in the kitchen. “I like seeing people in their natural states. Don’t clean on my account.” He walked to the fridge and pulled a photo from under a magnet. “Camping?”
“In Yosemite.”
He studied Johnny and Lola’s smiling faces. “You have freckles.”
“They’re more noticeable when I get sun.”
“You look young,” he said. “And happy.”
“We were.”
He looked up at her with one eyebrow arched.
“Young, I mean,” she said. “We were young. We’re still happy.”
His thumb pressed into the corner, sending a wrinkle through the center. He dumped the package heavily on the kitchen counter. “That’s the first half of the money. I brought it in cash this time to avoid unwanted attention.”
“Oh.” She stared at the parcel, feeling foolish. It’d been presumptuous to assume it was a gift. “Maybe I should put it in a closet or something.”
“That would be wise.”
Before she could move, he dropped the photo on top of the money and walked over to her. She held up her hands to stop him, but he took her face and kissed her, backing her against the counter.
She shoved him off. “Stop,” she said, panting. “This is his home.”
He looked into her eyes. “That’s the last time tonight I’ll allow you to push me away. I’ve been as patient as I can.” He was also breathing hard. “Since we said goodbye, you’re all I’ve thought of.”
“You wanted to see my place, fine. As long as we’re here, though, I’m off limits. Completely. I don’t give a damn about our agreement.”
He continued to stare at her. She braced herself, knowing how touchy he could be when it came to Johnny. Instead, he took a step back. “Then we’d better go. I’m having a hard time getting ahold of myself.”
They made their way outside, and she locked up. Had he said he’d been thinking of her since they’d said goodbye?
On the way to the car, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m glad you called. What we discussed on the phone—it still stands, doesn’t it?”
“I haven’t been with Johnny.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised.”
He was baiting her, but she didn’t even want to know what he’d meant by that. She looked at the ground. Did Beau think Johnny would be repulsed by her? Or that Lola was the one who didn’t want it? She took the bait. “Why aren’t you surprised?”
“I challenge any man to be okay with knowing the woman he loves was just with someone else. Not just the act of it, but the intimacy. The closeness. The touching, whispering.” He glanced over at her, narrowing his eyes a fraction. “I’m not okay with it. Far from it.”
His voice was almost accusatory, as if he were in Johnny’s shoes. “Are you talking about him or yourself? Does it bother you, Johnny and me?”
He returned his eyes forward as they approached the car, and it was a moment before he answered. He leaned over to open the door for her. “Yes.”
She didn’t move. “But I’m not the woman you love.”
He remained passive except that the angles of his jaw sharpened. “Just imagine if you were.”
