Blindsided (28 page)

“Oooooh!” she coos down the phone excitedly. “Do I need to pack condoms?”

“Um, no. Just clothes and stuff, okay? Okay. Thanks. Bye.” I hang up before she can ask me all sorts of other inappropriate questions.

Corey’s still looking at me in shock. “I cannot believe you just did that.”

I shrug. “I need clothes.”

“Fine,” he says after a moment. Then he leans over me, his face close to mine. “But we’re going on another date. In public.”

“‘Where people can see us’ public?”

“‘Where people can see us’ public,” he confirms in a murmur, cupping my cheek. “I fucked you, Leah. And now, you’re really, really mine. So I’m gonna get your clothes. Then, tomorrow night, we’re going for dinner, and every-fucking-one is gonna know it.”

I swallow and fight the shiver that wants to snake down my spine. I know I shouldn’t; I know I should quit now.

But I can’t.

Because a part of me is accepting the fact that I am absolutely becoming his.

“Okay,” I whisper. “One date.”

“For now.” He kisses me softly, his lips searing into me despite the gentleness of the touch. Then he pulls back and grabs a T-shirt. “By the way, how did your job search go earlier?”

Guilt bites at me. Just a little. “Not great.” I shrug. There’s a suspicious spark in his eye that flares to life when I answer. And maybe… “You know, maybe I’ll come back with you.”

“You do that.”

“How am I supposed to fold these?” He holds up a pair of panties.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I usually just throw them into my drawer. As you can see.” I motion to the drawer he’s standing in front of.

“Right.” His eyes flick down to the scrap of material and back to mine. Then he drops it onto the floor.

“Uh, what are you doing?” I look down at my panties crumpled on the rug.

A smirk tugs at his lips. “That’s where they’ll end up anyway. I’m savin’ you the hassle of putting them on.”

“And you say you aren’t a gentleman.” I snort and bend down to pick them up.

Corey steps up behind me and places his hands on my hips, his lips tenderly brushing the base of my neck. “I’m the best kind of gentleman, darlin’. I’m polite in public and filthy in private.”

I wriggle out of his hold. “That must be the famous Jackson charm you’ve been telling me about.”

“Is it working?”

I drop my pants into the bag and glance at him. “Yeah, kinda. That was a good one.”

He grins smugly and leans against the dresser. I fumble for my phone charger on the nightstand then tear my eyes away from Corey to find it. Shit. Where’s the cord?

I look at the plug socket, but it isn’t there either. Crap…

“I gotta go get my phone charger. I’ll be back in a second.”

“You want me to go get it so you can finish here?”

I shake my head quickly. “No. It’s okay.” I dart out of the room before he asks any more questions and pull my keys from my pocket. After locating the key for my design room, I put it in the slot, turn, and yank it out.

I give the door a nudge so it closes behind me and go to my desk. Sure as hell, it’s there, lying across the top of my laptop. Note to self: stop moving the phone charger.

I bend down and pull the plug from the wall, giving it a tug so the cable falls down the back of the desk. One, two…crash. Oops.

“Are you—what’s this?”

I freeze at Corey’s voice. “Nothing.”

“Right. It looks like nothing. Do you always hide under tables when you lie?”

I harshly pull the charger and get up. Pencils are scattered across the floor where I knocked the holder over, and I focus on them instead of Corey.

“Leah.”

“I said nothing!” I snap. I wind the cable around my hand and storm out of the room.

Shit. Shit. I should have locked the door behind me. Fucking shit!

“Why do you have a room for designing clothes? I thought you only majored in it.”

“I did,” I say honestly. “I still do some design now. For fun.” That time, I lied.

“Right…” Corey stops on the other side of the bed. “Now you wanna explain why you have letters and shit in that room from a big designer?”

“For my mom.” I zip my bag to disguise the shake of my hands.

“You’re a fuckin’ terrible liar,” he says quietly. “Tell me the truth, Leah.”

“What if I can’t?” I whisper, lifting my eyes to his. “What if I actually, physically can’t tell you?”

Corey swallows. “I’ve always been honest with you, babe, but it seems like you ain’t givin’ me the same courtesy. If you can’t tell me, then we’re done. I’m an asshole, sure, but I don’t fuck around with lies.”

A sharp breath fills my lungs. This is it—my way out. It’s my escape from his life, from this rouse, from everything he expects of me.

But I don’t want to take it.

The rouse is real.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” I reply, looking away again as apprehension coils in my belly. “I don’t know if I can.”

The floor creaks when he steps back. “I’ll be downstairs. If you ain’t down there in twenty minutes, I’ll know what choice you made.”

I close my eyes as he backs out of the room. My door slams, and I drop onto my bed. Crap. Why can’t he just accept that I can’t tell him right now? Why can’t he accept that I have to have a secret? That something has to remain shrouded in mystery?

I run my fingers through my hair. Of course he was going to find out. It was inevitable. The moment I followed him upstairs earlier and we had sex, I knew he’d find out.

I knew then that I was done. That this seven-days thing is bullshit.

And now the one thing I can’t tell him could ruin everything before it has even started.

Would it hurt to tell him?

The whisper is there, growing steadily louder, in the back of my mind. Would it? I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe he wouldn’t say a word. Maybe he would spill the beans to every media outlet in the country.

Maybe you can fall for someone before you trust them.

Maybe falling should be enough.

But it isn’t. This is my dream, my life, my career. If I tell him, it’ll discount everything I’ve worked toward and the last few years of lying to my best friends about half of my life.

If I don’t tell him, he’ll leave.

Our relationship has been built on lies. Lies to each other, lies to ourselves, but this may be the biggest one of all.

The biggest lie is that I wish he’d leave with the same breath that I wish he’d stay.

L
ooking for a job my fucking ass. Designing for fun my motherfucking ass.

This chick works as a designer and for one of the biggest fucking fashion houses. I know because it’s my mom’s favorite. Because she previews QD’s collection before the shows. I know because she’s raving about the fall collection for whatever fucking season it is.

And for some reason, Leah can’t talk about it.

I should be glad for the chance to leave. I should want her to stay up there and not explain herself to me, but fuck, I want her to. I need her to. I want her to bring her hot little ass down here and tell me every fucking thing she’s been hiding.

“Corey? Are you okay, honey?”

I look up at the sound of Grace’s voice. “Yep,” I reply tightly.

“Oh, dear. Let’s make you a cup of tea,” Ada rambles, sweeping past her niece and into the kitchen.

“I’m good, Ada. Really. Thanks.”

“It’s good for the soul, you know,” she insists, reaching for a mug in a high cupboard. “Grace…”

Grace laughs and gets the mug for her. “There.” Then she turns back to me. “Where’s Leah?”

“Upstairs.”

“Have you two had a fight?”

I glance at my watch. “I’ll let you know in five minutes.”

“No,” Leah says softly, appearing in the kitchen doorway.

“I’m confused,” Grace sighs, leaning against the island.

“You and me both,” I mutter, causing her to raise an eyebrow.

Leah walks across the kitchen and sits on the stool next to me.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Ada asks, putting tea in front of me. “Oooh, a baby! How lovely.”

“No!” Leah shouts. “Jesus. If I am, it happened very fucking quick,” she adds under her breath.

My lips twitch. Fuck—no. Don’t talk about sex. If I start thinking about her nails in my back and her pussy hugging my cock, then my threat to leave will be a waste of breath.

“Well, what happened?” Grace asks, her own lips curving.

Leah glances at me, her big, blue eyes hesitant. “I’m staying with Corey for a couple of nights, and I grabbed my phone charger from my design room. He followed me in…” Her voice trails off and she swallows. “And he saw everything.”

“Ah.” Grace grabs a stool opposite us.

“Ah, fuck,” Ada adds, sitting, too.

Stop ahhing. Stop ah-fucking. Just tell me.

“He saw the letters and stuff from Quinn that I have pinned to my board, and, somehow, it appears this big football-playing goof knows who Quinn is.” Leah looks at Grace. “And now, I’m trying to figure out if I can be honest. Any ideas, Mom?”

“You made your choices for your own reasons. You have to here, too.”

“Can someone just explain somethin’ to me?” I ask, looking at them all. “‘Cause all y’all seem to know what the fuck is going on and I don’t have a clue.”

“I have a job,” Leah responds, turning her face toward mine. “I have since I was seventeen. When I was sixteen, I started sending designs to various designers in the hope that they’d let me intern during the summer. Quinn did more than that—he gave me a chance. I worked for QD while I worked toward my bachelor’s degree. Then, a year ago, he asked me to design a whole collection and get a name for it.”

“He gave you your own line?”

Leah nods slowly. “I did it. I’m pretty sure my fingers were bleeding for, like, a month after, but I did, and in ten days, it’ll debut in New York.”

I stare at her, amazed. What the fucking hell? “And this is a secret…why?”

“Because no one knows,” she whispers. “You’re the first person outside of my family and Quinn to know what I do.”

“We’ll leave you to it,” Grace says softly, and she and Ada get up.