The Agreement (An Indecent Proposal) (3 page)

I was ready to tell her just that when she tossed a piece of
fabric my way and glared in case I started an argument with her.

For once, I clamped my mouth shut and just did as she
expected of me.

Five minutes into our drink at Jude’s favorite bar and
already there was a line of interested guys, all eyeing up her long, toned legs
and devastatingly low cleavage. She had it all: slender, tall body, hair and
skin to die for, and the charm to enchant an entire room with just a modest
smile. But I wasn’t envious, because being a male magnet had a huge downside to
it.

“Did the guy just grope me?” she whispered, pointing at the
grinning man in the adjacent cubicle. He was half sitting, half leaning toward
Jude, his naked arm almost resting on the back of Jude’s chair, his fingers
brushing suggestively over the polished wood. He winked at me, knowing we were
talking about him, and leaned forward, ready to commence whatever he thought
was his game, when I turned my back on him.

“Talk about creepy.” I rolled my eyes and agreed to swap
seats with her even though I knew it wouldn’t stop his ogling, or the next
brainless ape, who thought every attractive woman was an easy catch.

The bar was full, as usual. The chatter of conversations
intermingled with the background music. We were at Jude’s usual table, which
the bartender had cleared the moment she had entered the door.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married,” Jude said. “I feel
like a mother bird whose baby’s leaving the nest, flying into the unknown. I’ll
have to teach you everything I know about the birds and the bees.”

I laughed at the twinkling in her eyes. “There’s not going
to be any of that, because Chase and I aren’t interested in consummating the
marriage.”

Her brows shot up. “So you’ve decided to marry him?”

Dammit! Why did she have this uncanny ability to coax people
into revealing their plans and decisions before they even knew for sure what
those plans and decisions were?

“I don’t know,” I said. “My head tells me that it’s a stupid
idea. It’s all so definite and scary.”

“It probably is…for a commitment phobe, like you.” Her blue
eyes narrowed on me.

“I don’t suffer from commitment phobia.”

“And you want me to believe you?” She regarded me with
raised eyebrows. “There are sexy guys and there are good, nice guys. And then
there’s a mixture of both.”

“Let me guess, Chase belongs to the last category,” I said,
and raised my brows. “Your point being?”

“My point being he’s a rare breed. A catch.” She smiled. “In
all honesty, what keeps you back, Laurie? Life doesn’t have to be as difficult
as you make it out to be. It’s hard, and cutting, full of mistakes and
failures, but once you’ve reached the top, with the sky so low you can almost
touch it, and the whole world at your feet, it’s beautiful and exhilarating.
You’ll see it’s worth the ride.”

“Full of mistakes and failures? Where’s the beauty in that?”
I joked, smirking.

“You know there’s beauty in everything. You’re just not
looking hard enough. So…what do you
really
want?” Jude asked.

I regarded her, surprised by the sudden determined edge in
her voice. “You know what I want.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t know. At some point I
thought it was obvious, but not anymore. You’ve been talking about those letters
for years. Now here’s your chance to go after them, to uncover the truth and
find peace once and for all. It’s most certainly your last chance, Laurie. You
said so yourself. And yet here you are, hesitating, suddenly afraid. All my
effort to help you has been in vain.”

“Nothing’s been in vain. By me getting engaged, Clint got
the point that I’m not after his money. I’m no threat, but I’m also not
afraid,” I whispered.

Or was I?

She leaned over the table and squeezed my hand, her warmth
seeping into my skin. “Then just do it, get what you want, and then move on
with your life. It’s not like you’re pressuring him. He wants to do it. He’s
made his choice. Now you need to make yours. It’s about time you leave the past
behind.”

That was easier said than done when it kept staring in your
face day in, day out. Jude didn’t understand what I had risked to break free
and get away. Getting married to receive my mother’s letters would mean that I
might end up diving back into the past, where danger lurked. Clint was a powerful
man with many connections and dangerous friends. The letters might provide all
the answers I’d sought for years, but they could be answers I might not like.
The truth was I wasn’t sure if I was really ready to know all the secrets that
had plagued my mother. The last months with her—her vacant expression,
the angry outbursts followed by fits of crying—still haunted my dreams. I
dreaded the letters would not help me eradicate the past, but rather strengthen
my fears and suspicions.

“Laurie,” Jude whispered. “Remember you’re not alone. I’ll
always be here to help you, and I’m sure Chase won’t let you down. Sometimes
the hardest lesson to learn is not to fight whatever’s coming your way. Get the
letters and see what happens. For all you know, maybe your mom just wanted to
tell you how much she loved you and she could only do so on paper. You need
them for yourself to find out what she wanted you to know.”

Nodding slowly, I buried my gaze in my cocktail glass,
watching the bubbles slowly dissolving.

Refusing to marry Chase would be stupid. All my hopes, my
dreams, my wish to be free of guilt, would dissolve into thin air, just like
the bubbles in my glass.

She was right, as usual. Chase had offered his help, and he
was making it so easy for me. I had already told Clint about our engagement.
The first few steps were done, and Clint was now spying on us to find out if we
were determined to carry out the wedding part. I took a deep breath and let it
out slowly. If we didn’t consummate the marriage, it could be annulled in less
than twenty-four hours after I got my hands on the letters. Chase would be free
and so would I—the only reminder of our time together a piece of paper
that stated our marriage was void.

Why was I still hesitating, then?

Because you don’t want
to take advantage.

I sucked in my breath and held it for a moment. Sure, I
didn’t want to use him for my benefit, but there was something else. The
realization hit me so hard, I forgot to breathe.

Ever since the day we spent at the cottage, I could feel
something fluttering inside me. It wasn’t love. It was something
else—something I couldn’t explain.

It was deep and dark, like a current.

I wanted him.

To be mine.

I wanted him to like me the way I liked him.

Not just sexually, but on a personal level.

I swallowed the lump down my throat as I realized that the
more I resisted Chase, the more I ended up liking him. And not in a way I could
easily deal with.

My heart lurched in my chest at the thought of him.

I liked him too much—so much that I was way past
friendship territory. The idea of him becoming my husband was a dangerous path
to my heart, particularly because he could never be.

Already I was having trouble keeping my emotions in check
around him, and we had barely met. What would it be like being near him all the
time while having to deal with my naughty thoughts on a daily basis? To resist
his flirtations, his random touches, which didn’t seem to be so random after
all.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, and grabbed my handbag,
heading for the restroom—away from Jude’s probing glances, relentless
questions, and anything else that might just send my thoughts circling back to
him.

Running away, as
usual.

Inclining my head, I stared at my reflection in the mirror,
not quite liking what I saw. My skin had a hue of pale gray to it, the bags
under my eyes too pronounced in the harsh neon light. Thank God for foundation
and bronzing powder, because I looked like shit and felt even worse. Maybe I’d
be able to hide the way I looked, but how could I possibly make a secret out of
the fact that, on a mental level, I knew I was biting off more than I could
chew? Chase was a sexual guy, no doubt about that. If the way he so easily had
swayed my mind and tempted me to sleep with him was any indication of our
future interchange, I was doomed from the start to give in to his wants.

Judging from his confidence, he was used to getting what he
wanted, and he had admitted that he wanted me. There was no doubt that he’d try
to get me into his bed again. Only, now I wasn’t stupid enough to believe I
could resist him, nor was I stupid enough to believe that my heart wouldn’t get
involved along the way.

But Jude was right: I needed the letters to finally find
closure.

So many years had passed; so many phases of depression had
made me beg for such an opportunity as this. But falling in love with Chase
wasn’t an option. I knew that if he pushed hard enough, I’d be all sugar and
butter again. And then, in the heat of the moment, I’d open my heart, my soul,
my body for him, and he’d crush it along the way. I couldn’t afford that. I
couldn’t let our relationship progress.

I stopped in my thoughts and my breath hitched in my throat.

What relationship?

We had none, at least not in the traditional sense, I
reminded myself. The few dates and a bit of flirting meant nothing.

Nothing at all.

“I’ll just have to keep my legs crossed and closed. How hard
can it be?” I muttered. I had only practiced abstinence for the last twenty-two
years, never trusting a guy enough to get physically and emotionally involved.

“Depends on who he is.”

I turned and shot the woman behind me a shy smile, realizing
I must have spoken out loud and she must have heard it.

She was dressed in a blue dress that built a strong contrast
to her red hair pinned high over her head and the thick layer of pink lipstick.
Her whole attitude screamed confidence and something else I couldn’t quite
pinpoint. “There’s good sex and there’s bad sex,” she continued as she
inspected herself in the mirror, smacking her lips in the process. “If he looks
clean, listens to you, and takes good care of you, he might be well worth it.”

As she peered at me from under long, fake lashes, I realized
what she was oozing.

Life experience
.

“Probably,” I whispered. With a last glance at her, I headed
out into a narrow hall, eager to return to Jude and finally get back home.

Only, as I scanned the crowded bar, she was nowhere to be
seen. My glance swept over the busy tables and clientele, but Jude wasn’t among
them. She must have met someone. There was only one person who’d know. With a
sigh, I strolled to the bar and motioned the bartender to get his attention.

“G’day, Laurie.” He smiled, revealing his perfect white
teeth. “What can I do for you?”

“James.” I shot the familiar face a bright grin. James was a
good friend—a sexy, tanned Australian, who Jude would have dated, were it
not for him playing for the other team.

Not that she hadn’t tried anyway.

“Have you seen Jude?”

His eyes brushed over the room and the tiniest hint of a
frown appeared on his otherwise smooth forehead. “I saw her a few minutes ago
heading outside, probably for a smoke.”

“Thanks.” I was about to turn and go looking for her, when
James called after me.

“Hey, Laurie. How’s your job search coming along?”

“Still nothing. They don’t want to hire graduates unless
they work for free.” I smirked. “So I might as well do a few unpaid
internships. If only I’d get one without having to move, because in NYC they’re
basically all snapped up for the next five years.”

He nodded, his eyes lit up with sympathy. “Well, if you need
a job, feel free to ask us. We have an open position coming up. It’s yours if
you want it.”

I looked at him, smiling. “Thanks. I appreciate the offer,
but—” I hesitated. Could I really afford to decline?

For months I had spent hours and days looking for a job
related to my degree—without any success. If I didn’t find anything soon,
I’d end up in serious financial trouble, and I couldn’t afford falling into an
even deeper financial hole, seeing that I had already maxed out all my credit
cards. “Maybe. I will give it some thought and I’ll get back to you, okay?”

“Sure.” He returned my smile and winked. “See you around.”

“Yeah.” I headed back for the hall, which was now crowded
with people making out. At the end of the narrow space was a backdoor that led
into an alley, which I knew Jude usually used for smoking a cigarette whenever
she went out. I opened it and walked outside. The door closed behind me as I
scanned the dark space.

There was no sight of her. Sighing, I breathed in the cool
night air, which wasn’t too bad by L.A. standards, and gripped the doorknob,
ready to head back into the bar, then pushed.

I frowned when the door didn’t open.

Shoot.

I had locked myself out.

I stared at the door, willing somebody to open it. Blaring
music echoed from inside so loud, I doubted anyone would hear my pounding. Even
though I knew my attempts would remain futile, I tried one last time and then
gave up in favor of a different approach. To re-enter the bar, I figured I had
no other choice but to walk around the block. It would take me five—ten
minutes, tops. It wasn’t a big deal at all, except…

Alleys of east Downtown Los Angeles scared the shit out of
me, especially now that I was on my own and surrounded by darkness. Garbage
littered the sidewalk, large bins blocked the view, and the lack of street
lamps made it a place of anyone’s nightmares. I didn’t mind the smell or the
rats scurrying around, or the few syringes and condoms lying around. Never mind
some of the burned-out buildings or the scary sub-art culture with graffiti
adorning the walls that screamed ‘stay the fuck away,’ but the fact that those
dark alleyways were a sign of rebellion on their own—a place neither
courageous people, which I wasn’t part of, nor the police would venture into at
night, unless they had no choice.

East Downtown L.A. was a city of chaos, where shady deals
were made, and people were killed or fought for their life—where
everything dark poured out of the beauty of L.A. and was swept into a place
that screamed danger and poverty. Some said it was a gateway to hell—out
of the view of the rich and famous, stacked away from the tourists. A place
where superficial beauty surrounded a perilous sliver.

Ever since moving to L.A., I had known to stay away from
those uncharted back lots of downtown at night. Generally safe at day, L.A. was
different in the darkness, especially the Seventh to Ninth Street, when the
poor homeless and the addicts started crowding in some places, while others,
being territories belonging to the gangs that ruled them, became deserted.

My eyes scanned the long, narrow alley stretching to both
sides of the backdoor. A stray breeze blew my hair into the face. I was
brushing it away when thudding footsteps echoed from my left. My head snapped
toward the noise, my eyes wide, my heart racing in my ears.

A naked bulb over the door cast an ominous light, its weak
rays barely reaching the large bins on my left side, filled to the brim with
garbage.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and pressed my hand
against my pounding heart as the steps inched closer. The figure of a guy
entered my line of vision. Even in the darkness I could make out the dull eyes,
hollowed cheeks, and clothes that had seen better days. He looked like a drug
addict in dire need of the next quick fix. Or maybe he was already high out of
his mind, seeing that he barely acknowledged me as he passed me, each step slow
and steady, and then he was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief and hurried in
the direction he had come from.

Wrapping my arms tightly around me, I quickened my steps. I
had almost reached the end of the alley when steps echoed behind me. With a
quick glance over my shoulder, I kept walking, but my breath caught in my
throat. Someone reached me in a few strides—a different guy, and yet he
seemed familiar. My mind raked through the last hour’s faces but didn’t come
close to finding an answer.

“Hey,” a voice shouted close to my ear.

Shit. Shit.

My breath came fast as my steps hastened in the hope I could
get out of there as fast as possible.

The possibility of screaming for help entered my mind, but I
quickly discarded of it. Even if someone heard me, I knew no one would come to my
aid.

“Hey, you,” the guy yelled again. “I’m talking to you.”

His hurried steps told me his pace had picked up, the
knowledge making me panic so much that I started to run.

But it was too late.

He grabbed my shoulder and twirled me around.

“Hey, you.” He cocked his head, and I recognized a guy I had
seen eyeing up Jude earlier. “Where’s your friend?”

By friend he was talking about Jude.

“She went home,” I whispered in the hope he’d leave us both
alone.

“So it’s just you?”

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at him. Why the
fuck had I just given him that answer? The streets were abandoned. We were
alone and I had just told him that.

“Actually, she’s waiting for me.” I pointed to the left.
“Along with our friends,” I added. “They’re all here. Sorry, I gotta go so we
can make it to the next party. It’s quite a drive from here.”

I shrugged my right shoulder, hoping he would let go of me,
while my heart lurched in my chest like crazy.

Instead of letting go, his grip tightened. “Not honest, are
you?” His voice carried the telltale slur of a drunk, his tone accusatory. The
real danger was never the east Downtown alleyways themselves, I realized. It
was being paid attention by the wrong guys—the ones psycho enough not to
understand that their attention was unwanted.

“How about we spent a little time together?” As if to make
his point unmistakable, his hand began to rub my shoulder a little harder than
necessary.

My pulse raced so hard it was almost impossible to formulate
one clear thought.

“We could meet up tomorrow,” I heard myself saying—the
one thing I hoped would help me get rid of him. “I’ll give you my number and we
can arrange something.” I squeezed a hint of cheeriness into my voice to mask
the underlying fear that threatened to seep out of me.

“All right.” The guy looked at me suspiciously, then
retrieved a piece of napkin with a pen out of his pocket. “What’s your number?”

I gave him the wrong number, of course, silently praying
that the tremor in my voice wouldn’t give me away. As I was about to turn away
from him, his grip on me tightened while his other hand fished his phone out of
his pocket. Paralyzed, I watched him dial the number I had given him. Someone
replied almost instantly.

Someone who clearly wasn’t me.

“Thought so,” the guy mumbled, his smile smug.

Slowly, he pushed his phone back into his pocket, his eyes
boring into me with a hint of danger. “Trying to wriggle out of this, bitch?”

My voice failing me, I swallowed hard and shook my head.

“Think you can play me?” His voice carried a hurricane of
anger. “Let me make one thing clear, bitch. Nobody messes with me. And
especially not bitches like you.”

I shrank back. “No, I must have gotten it wrong. Let me try
again and I’ll—”

My voice broke as I considered my next move.

The moment he’d pull out the paper, I’d try to run, if only
he’d let go of me.

“Doesn’t matter now. What’s the purpose when you’re already
here?” he cut in before I could continue. “You’re my bitch and I won’t let you
go until you give me what you promised.”

“What? I didn’t promise anything.”

“You seduced me.” His lips curved into a knowing smile.
“Sluts like you always like to be fucked. I know the kind of girl you are,
Laurie.”

His words made me flinch. “How do you know my name?” I
asked, shocked, my legs trembling and my breath coming shallow as a shudder ran
down my spine.

“Let’s say I eavesdropped on you and your friend.” He smiled
again, shaking his head in disapproval. “Marrying a guy just to get some
letters. I bet you’re a gold digger, out for his money.”

I stared at him. Of course he must have picked that up from
our conversation and created his own story in his twisted mind.

“That’s right. My fiancé is rich. In fact, one of the
richest men around here,” I heard myself saying, hoping that this would infuse
some fear into him. “And if you don’t let me go now, you’ll be sorry.”

He let out a loud laugh. “So, where is he?” He turned his
head left and right in mock curiosity. “Probably in his castle, asleep, while
his whore fucks the next guy.” He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. As
he leaned forward, his breath coming hard, it took every ounce of me not to
faint from the pain searing my scalp.

“Don’t worry, Laurie. I won’t spill your secrets. I won’t
tell anyone of your little affairs.” His hand slid down my front and reached my
skirt, lifting it up roughly.

Shit.

This wasn’t happening.

Why had I listened to Jude and changed into a dress of her
choice? Underneath it, I wore only a pair of skimpy panties, and those barely
covered my private parts.

My fingers clutched around his hand before he could move it
between my legs.

“Let me go,” I whispered, angry with myself for getting into
this kind of situation. My angry command was only rewarded with him laughing.
He was obviously enjoying the situation as it was, which just confirmed my
earlier suspicion that the guy was a psycho. And judging by his roaming hands,
probably someone who was capable of doing more than just harassing a young
woman in an empty alley.

“Get your dirty hands off me,” I hissed.

“Or what, huh?” His smile turned into a grimace as his
fingers tangled in my hair, pulling harder, until the pain in my scalp turned
into a nasty burn.

My hands fumbled in my bag for the Mace I always carried
around.

“You’ll give me what you’re good at, bitch.”

My fingers finally wrapped around the tiny bottle. My heart
pounding hard in my chest, I pulled it out, ready to use it, but he slammed it
out of my hand. The bottle landed on the hard concrete floor somewhere to my
left, obscured by the darkness. But the sudden noise was enough to distract
him. For a moment he let go of me, and I used the opportunity to turn around
and head for the main road. I was almost out of the alley when strong arms
gripped me, dragging me behind the large bin. I screamed as loudly as I could,
but the sound came out all muffled and choked by his hands pressing against my
mouth.

“Fucking bitch.” With a hard thrust, he flung me onto the
hard ground.

I caught my fall but scraped my knee in the process, the
pang of pain knocking the breath out of my lungs. Turning around, I stared at
him, fear washing over me in thick waves as he leaned over me and opened his
belt. “For that you’ll pay.”

“Please, no,” I whispered, my voice choked with fear. I
tried to scramble to my feet but he positioned his boot in the middle of my
chest, pinning me to the spot.

“You stay here, bitch.” He used his belt to tie me up, a
demonic expression on his face.

He was turned on, I realized. By my fear, by the thought of
hurting me, the thought of being in control. As he kneeled down, between my
legs, I started to kick and fight, and my voice finally found its way out of my
throat.

His grip on my thighs was rough; the hands holding me down
unyielding. His breath smelled of cigarettes and vodka, but that wasn’t the worst.
I could sense his intentions and my impending doom.

No one would hear my screams.

And even if they did, people were too scared in those dark
alleys. No one would put their life at risk to help a stranger. With rising
horror, I watched him unzip his pants. But he never got round to fulfilling his
plans.

Two hands settled on his shoulders, yanking him away from
me.

My rescuer’s face was bathed in the darkness cast by his
hoodie as he grabbed my attacker by his collar and kicked him so hard in the
gut, I almost felt the impact. As my attacker lurched forward to fight back,
the guy slammed his fist into his side. My attacker collapsed instantly to the
ground, gasping for air, and then he stumbled to his feet, shaking badly.

“Shit.” He groaned, the choked sound louder than his voice.
“Shit.”

I stared at the hooded guy dressed in a casual sweater,
afraid to whisper my thanks; not quite daring to hope the worst was over. One
of them could still pull a gun and the situation would escalate.

Hooded guy stepped toward me, his hand extending. I eyed his
outstretched fingers warily, unsure whether to let him help me up, because I
couldn’t see his face.

Couldn’t trust him.

“You okay?” His voice was deep and dark, carrying not even
the slightest hint of fear.

His voice seemed familiar.

My heart began to beat frantically in my chest the way it
always did when he so much as said my name.

“Chase?” I asked incredulously. My pulse raced so hard it
almost drowned out my voice in my ears.

Of all the people in L.A., it couldn’t possibly be him.

My rescuer pulled back the hood, exposing the gray-blue eyes
that seemed to see right through me whenever he looked at me.

Oh my God.

It was really him.

“Why are you—”
Here
,
I wanted to ask, relief streaming through me.

“Get up, Laurie. We don’t have time. We need to get away
before he gets help,” he whispered, his gaze scanning our surroundings. Not out
of fear, I was sure of that.

Help?
I wanted to
ask. The guy had attacked
me,
not the
other way around.

But instead, I let Chase lift me up to my feet and half tug,
half carry me out of the alley, and back to the main street, toward a midsized
sedan I had never seen before.

It wasn’t the same car he usually drove to pick me up.

“Is this yours?” I asked.

“Get in.” Ignoring my question, Chase opened the door and
motioned me impatiently to jump into the passenger seat.