MISTAKEN - The Complete First Season (15 page)

I
had
to come back to San Francisco whether I wanted to or not. The three month lease on the apartment was up in a couple of days. I didn't have very much in there that I cared about, but it had to be cleared out anyway.

San Francisco had not been anything that I had expected. I had only come in the first place because my grandmother was dying. The doctors gave her three months, but she died less than a month after her cancer diagnosis. The woman had raised me from the time I was in preschool, and while I'd never admit it to anyone, her death had taken a heavy toll on me. The only ray of light in my life was Jen, and I had fucked that up beyond repair. Or not. I didn't even know what I was doing when I followed her to Hawaii, and I never expected her to take me back into her life. Not after she found out that her fiance wasn't dead after all. And that didn't even touch the fact that I'd been involved with the whole faked suicide thing. If our roles had been reversed, I wasn't sure I would have been able to forgive me, either.

I dragged myself into the loft apartment. I needed to see Jen again, but I was exhausted and it would just be easier to get my crap packed up and then try to see her in the morning. She wanted me to fight for her; I knew she did. And damn it, I was going to fight.

I had stashed some boxes in the back closet and I walked through the large living room to grab them. I headed to the bedroom and began throwing the few things that I had in the dresser into a box. I saw something between the dresser and wall that had fallen into the space. I picked it up and turned it over. It was the painting the Jen had made the night we first met. It was just a small canvas, not even bigger than my hand. I tapped it against my other hand and smiled. It might have been small and something that no one else would care about, but just thinking about the moment I'd first seen her gave me a warm feeling inside. It was a feeling I'd never had before, and I still wasn't sure what it was.

I finished packing up the few remaining items of mine that were in the bedroom and attached bathroom and set the painting on top. I carried the box out to the dining area and set it on the table. I figured I'd get a drink then go to bed. I'd have to find Jen first thing in the morning. I was sure she would have met with her father that night, and God only knew where he'd send her to get her away from me.

I walked into the kitchen and got a bottle of vodka down from the cupboard. I figured I might as well drink up what I had on hand so I wouldn't have to take it with me when I left in the morning. I poured a shot into a glass and knocked it back. The liquid stung at the back of my throat. I leaned over the cold granite counter that separated the kitchen from the dining room and thought about how much my grandmother would have loved Jen. At least she'd been able to hear her play the piano before she'd died. It had made my grandmother cry.
Damn, she would have fucking adored her.

I poured another shot into the glass and almost spilled the liquid when I heard the doorbell ring.
Who the fuck could that be?

I walked toward the door and that warm feeling came over me, and it wasn't from the vodka. It was Jen; it had to be. Who else would know that I was back in San Francisco?

I grinned and leaned up against the door frame before I opened the door a crack. I figured I might as well tease her a little.

I poked my head out the door and the smile fell from my face. I lifted an eyebrow at the woman that stood there.

"Nice to see you too, Brandon. Are you going to invite me in?" She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot.

My eyes lolled toward the ceiling and I opened the door for her. I walked back into the kitchen. "You want a drink? It's rum with a splash of Coke still, right?" I opened up the refrigerator to see if I even had any soda in there.

"Very funny." She pulled one of the dining room chairs out and sat down. "Nice place."

I shrugged and grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge. I poured half of it into a glass and filled the rest of the glass with the little bit of rum that I had left in the cupboard. I walked to the counter and slid it across to her. There was no way I was going to serve that woman.

She stood up and took the glass and returned to where she had been sitting. "Why don't you have a seat, Brandon? We have some business to discuss."

I gave my head a slight shake. "Sorry, Krystal. I stopped doing business with you a long time ago." I picked up my vodka and raised my glass to her in a mock toast before taking another drink. I swished the fluid around in my mouth before gulping it down. It stung a little less, and I knew it was starting to take effect.

She patted the chair next to her. "Oh, come on. You'll want to hear what I have to offer you."

"I sincerely doubt it, babe." I rested both of my elbows on the counter and watched her. She was an intimidating woman, tall with a broad build. If I hadn't known her all my life, I might have been afraid of her.

Her eyebrows lifted. "Babe, huh? No one's called me that in a while." She patted the chair again. "Just come hear what I have to say."

I reached for the bottle of vodka and refilled my cup. It would be better to be plastered if I was going to have to talk to her for any length of time.

I ambled across the kitchen and walked around the counter into the dining room. I sat down in the chair she'd been patting and gave her my most devastating smile. "What do you want, Krystal?"

She tried to mirror my smile. "Not much. This is a really simple one."

I gave her a single nod. "Yeah, I'm sure. They're all simple, aren't they?" I tapped at my chin and pondered a moment. "I already know what you want from me, and you aren't going to get it."

Her smile widened. "Name your price."

I shrugged. "I would, but you haven't told me for sure what you want." It would have been fun playing coy with her if the stakes weren't so high. I sloshed my drink around in my cup then took another gulp. The vodka was going to my head and my vision was beginning to blur.

"You said you already knew. And I'm pretty sure you do." She gave me a phony wink and pulled out a single paper from the brief case that she had carried in with her. "No further contact with Jenna Davis." She pushed the paper toward me.

I picked it up and tried to look at it, forcing my eyes to focus. The amount was blank, but it was a simple contract, just like the contracts we'd used in the past. My head was starting to swim but I took another gulp of my vodka, anyway. She couldn't ask me to sign a legal document if I was drunk. I pushed the paper back at her. "No thanks."

"Oh, Brandon, we both know you aren't a romantic and that girl has been through enough. Name your price." She slid the paper back toward me.

I shrugged. "And I haven't been through enough?" I took another drink from my glass. "And who says I'm not a romantic? Besides, you couldn't afford it, anyway." There was no price. There was nothing that she could give me that would make me give her up.

"Why don't you try me?" She picked up her drink and took a tiny sip.

I threw my head back and laughed. "What if I said I've turned over a new leaf? That you can't buy me anymore?"

She shot me a hostile look. "Well, that would throw your entire business model off kilter, wouldn't it?"

I lifted my shoulders in a matter-of-fact shrug. "I have plenty of business. I'm not in the market for this particular type of deal."

She lifted an eyebrow. "I don't think you understand, Brandon. This isn't about you or what you want. There are bigger players at work here, as usual."

I looked down at the piece of paper she had shoved in front of me and took another swig of my drink. "You know this won't hold up in court, right?"

She snorted. "Yeah, because this is something we'd go to court over. You can either take the
very
generous offer that is being made to you, or you'll have to risk matters being taken care of in other ways."

I gave her the sweetest smile I could muster. "Are you threatening me, Krystal?"

She was the one who gave the matter-of-fact shrug this time. "It isn't up to me to threaten you or not to threaten you. I'm only the messenger."

I downed the rest of my vodka and got up to refill my glass. The alcohol was affecting my thinking. "So what's your final offer?"

Her lips pressed into a smile. "I'll write it in the blank for you."

I drank the rest of the vodka in a single shot and stumbled back to the table. The number was large—much larger than I had anticipated. It was twenty times more than she had paid me to get Daniel to Japan. I frowned down at the paper, unable to believe it was real. "This is a fucking joke."

She turned her head from side to side. "No joke. My client is serious about keeping you away from the girl." She nodded down at the paper again. "You can buy yourself an island and a brothel to put on it with that much money. You'll never have to think about her again."

I picked up the pen she had pushed over to me and I sunk down again into the chair. I looked at the piece of paper then looked up at Krystal. "How long do I have to decide?"

She stood up from the table. "I can give you until morning. Sleep on it and make the right decision." She shook her head at me. "She isn't someone you need to be getting involved with, Brandon."

I made a sound through my nose. Even as drunk as I was at that moment, I knew I'd be involved. There was nothing else I could do.

She tucked her long graying hair behind her ears and picked up her bag. "I'll be by again in the morning. I know you'll make the right decision."

I lifted a shoulder in a half-attempt at a shrug. She turned on her heel and went to the door. She turned back to me. "Don't do anything stupid, Brandon. I might despise you, but I still care about you."

I didn't even look up at her. I waved her away with my hand and she went out the door, giving it a loud slam as she closed it behind her.

I wasn't sure what choice I would make in the morning once I was sober. I only knew one thing for sure—there wasn't enough money on earth that could make me forget her.

I
rose
from my seat on the floor, more out of surprise than anything, still choking on the unfinished bite of food in my mouth. I tasted the bitter bile rising from my stomach. If my father had his way, the man in the doorway would be my husband. What the hell had my life come to? It wasn't just two men in my life any more. Now it was three? I shook my head in denial. This couldn't be happening to me, not again.

The younger man walked into the dining area where my father and I had been seated on the floor in the traditional Japanese style. He was followed on his heels by an older man that I recognized as his father, the retired Senator Howard.

The younger man walked toward me with his hand extended. "You must be Jenna." A smug grin flashed across his face.

I forced a sour smile to my lips and gave him a curt nod in response. "You must be William." I extended my hand to shake his.

He closed his clammy hand in a brief clasp around mine. I gave it a fleeting squeeze and forced myself not to shudder as I met his gaze. There was something off about him, but I couldn't put my finger on it. His eyes glittered green, but there was something dark in them, too. I pulled my hand away and forced another smile to my lips. I motioned for him to sit down on the cushion next to mine.

My father had walked to the back of the room to speak with the other man. I was looking at him when he met my gaze, praying he would say something—anything, to get me out of this. "Jenna, we have some business to discuss.” He motioned to the other man. “We'll let you two have some privacy, get to know each other a little better." He beamed down at me with a look that only a father could have for his daughter.

"Great." I felt like I was going to vomit and I wanted nothing more than to run out of there screaming my head off. Running for the hills seemed like a great plan, a much better plan than an arranged marriage. Again. Instead, I sank down into the cushion on the floor.

"So you're the infamous Jenna Davis." His voice was flat with no inflection whatsoever. He took the seat next to mine and scooted the cushion toward me.

I noticed his build as he narrowed the distance between us. His chest had a broadness that was unnatural, as though he spent way too much time lifting weights. Something about him made me squeamish—he had a serious ick factor going on. "Infamous? Have I done something to make me infamous?"

He ran a hand through his sandy hair and chuckled. "Maybe infamous wasn't the right word."

I gave him another curt nod then turned away, shaking my head in disgust. The waiter came in and asked if he could bring anything to drink. "I'll have a sake. The sweet kind, not the dry kind."

The waiter nodded and turned to my companion. "And for you sir?"

"Scotch on rocks." The waiter left our dining area and William turned to me. "How can you drink that sweet stuff? It's like drinking syrup." He gave a fake shudder, mocking me.

I tilted my head to the side and forced myself to be polite. "I like what I like." I gave him a thin-lipped smile and motioned to the food that was left on the table. "Help yourself to some dinner."

He lifted an eyebrow. "No thanks; I already ate. And I don't like Japanese food." He surveyed the room. "I hate sitting on the floor, too. That's the worst part about these restaurants." I saw a small sneer come to his face, as though he knew he was better than this place.

The waiter returned with our drinks and left without another word to us. William pulled off his suit jacket and laid it across the cushion on his other side. I could see his muscles bulging under his white dress shirt.

I directed my gaze to my drink and took a sip of the sweet liquid. It might have tasted like syrup, but I knew it would help me relax. "So, William…"

"Call me Will. I hate William. What about you? Can I call you Jen? Jenny?" He lifted an eyebrow in my direction.

The urge to roll my eyes or say any number of impolite things nagged at me. I gritted my teeth to keep them at bay. "Jenna is fine." There was no way I was going to let him call me Jen. I thought I'd probably never let anyone call me that again.

He lifted a shoulder with a dismissive shrug and took a swig of his drink. "So,
Jenna
." He hit the 'Jenna' way too hard. "Our mothers are thinking an August wedding. That gonna work for you?"

I choked on my sake mid-sip. I set the glass down and coughed. I turned to look at him. "Was that a proposal?"

"It wasn't anything. It was just a question."

I coughed again and reached for my water glass. I took a sip and set the glass back down. I tried to calm myself; I wanted to reach over and strangle the guy, but I was pretty sure that his neck was too thick to succumb to a strangling. I forced a sweet smile to my face, the same demure smile my mother had taught me years ago. "I haven't really had time to think about it, Will. I was just told about the current plan five minutes ago."

He knocked back the rest of his drink in a gulp and banged the cup on the table. He mocked me with his own phony, sweet smile. "Well, sweetheart, it isn't like I had a choice in it either." He stood up and walked to the door of the dining room and motioned the waiter back over. He returned to the cushion next to mine and dropped back to the floor. "This sitting on the floor thing is bullshit. I'm going to have the waiter bring chairs in when he gets here with my drink."

I raised an eyebrow to myself and took a large sip from my drink. I willed the alcohol to kick in before I killed the man or said anything I knew I'd regret. I decided to just stay silent rather than risk it.

The waiter returned with another drink for Will. There was a brief exchange about bringing in chairs, which the waiter did a moment later. I let him take his chair and I stayed on the floor, sipping my drink and playing with my food.

We sat like that for several minutes with Will in a chair against the wall and me sitting on the floor at the table. He was the one that broke the silence. "Christ, just get up and sit in the chair like a fucking human being."

I swiveled my body to meet his gaze, my mouth twisting in frustration. His look was a mixture of anger and disgust. It reminded me a lot of my mother, and I was damned sure I wouldn't be able to put up with that for the rest of my life. I stood up and smoothed my dress down and walked over the chair next to his. I sat down with as much grace as I was able to and crossed my legs at the ankle, bending my legs back. I tried to be as ladylike as possible. I forced that demure smile to my lips again.

"That's better." He rolled his eyes. "Christ, I don't need you acting like a bitch. It's not like any of this was my idea."

My eyebrows lifted in surprise. "I'm being a bitch?"

He snorted. "Yeah, that's what I'd call it." He stood and grabbed his drink from the table before returning to his seat. "Look, none of this was my idea. I'm not any happier about it than you are."

I gave a slow nod and pursed my lips, giving careful consideration to his words. All I could think was that if he thought I was being a bitch now, we were going to have a lot of problems if he ever saw me at my finest.

He tapped his fingers against his glass. "So, August, after the straw poll. That's what our mothers want." He gave me a look that told me he wondered if I was too stupid to understand.

"Oh." I had nothing else to offer without sounding bitchy. Or looking too dumb.

"Why does your father care so much about that idiotic straw poll, anyway? It isn't like it means anything."

I pulled my shoulders up into the tiniest, least bitchy shrug I could. "I have no idea. I just learned about his plans tonight."

He took a swig from his glass. "It's a stupid plan, putting that much weight on a straw poll that doesn't mean anything."

I gave a minuscule nod. "I haven't discussed strategy with him, so I couldn't tell you."

He rolled his eyes and his upper lip curled into a sneer. "Christ's sake, you're mouthy too, aren't you?" He shook his head and drank the rest of his drink in a large swig. He narrowed his eyes and gave me a frank look. "I don't put up with mouthiness or bitchiness. Are we clear?"

"About what?" A wave of nausea came over me. It sounded an awful lot like he was threatening me.

"That I don't put up with mouthy bitches. Something about that you don't understand? You need me to explain it to you?"

My eyes widened and I tilted my head toward him. "Well,
Will
, I don't put up with douche bag…" My response was interrupted by the entry of our fathers into our dining area.

My father beamed at me again. "I'm glad to see you two are getting to know each other." He clasped his hands in front of him and waved them together like he had just won a prize. "This is going to be fantastic." His eyes darted between the two of us.

I stood up from my chair, a bit disappointed that I didn't get to finish my diatribe before my dad walked in. God knew I was going to finish it sooner or later; there was no way in hell I'd put up with him talking to me like that. I forced a smile to my face for my father's sake. "I'm getting pretty tired, dad. I'd like to go home now."

My father nodded at me and smiled, a slight look of concern coming to his face. "Of course. You two will have plenty of time together over the next few months."

I looked down at my new fiance and gave him a sneer of my own that I turned into a disgusted smile. "I can't wait."