Chapter 7

seven

Cash

By the time I jump down from the stage to collect my fake girlfriend, she’s wasted. Her and Candace are giggling about fuck knows what when I move in close, dropping my mouth next to her ear and biting back a grin when she shivers.

I murmur, “You’re drunk.”

Her hand comes up to cover her mouth and her eyes get saucer wide. She thinks she’s whispering, but she’s not. Everyone hears her gasp. “Oh no! I am, aren’t I?”

Cute.“Yeah, Kitten, you are.”

She glances down at the glasses on the table, blinking fast. “I don’t know how that happened. I only had—”

Her slur is cut off as she begins to count the cups.

Candace hoots a laugh. “Like your girl, Cash.”

“Seems she likes you, too.”

Candace twists her lips to the side, sassing, “She’s not the usual.”

Wrenlee forgets her count and her eyes drift up, full lips pouting. “There’s a usual?”

Kane chuckles deep and low, amused. “Yeah, babe. There’s a usual and you ain’t it.”

She wiggles on her seat, straightening her spine and looking adorable. This girl is sweet. The real kind of sweet that knocks a man off center. Her full lips part and she asks Kane with a frown, “What’s the usual?”

Kane leans in like he’s gonna let her have it, but with one glance in my direction, he shakes his head. Tav takes the moment to clap me on the back. “See things took a serious turn after last night.”

“Been serious for a while,” I lie, and Wrenlee blinks big eyes up at me. She’s so tiny, even sitting on the tall bar-height chair, her legs swinging, her head doesn’t hover above my shoulders.

“A while?” Ian lifts his chin, appraising us in confusion. “What’s a while?”

“What happened last night?” Kane grins.

Candace cocks her head to the side, the more perceptive one of the bunch. I wonder what Wrenlee told her. “What’s serious?”

“Serious enough I moved Wrenlee in with me this morning.” I evade all other questions with the answer.

Wrenlee lets out a tiny hiccup before she covers her giggle with her hands, cheeks turning a shade of pink I imagine she’d turn if we were alone, and I convinced her to let me taste her.

Don’t go there, man. She’s drawn lines.

But lines are made for crossing.

No.

I give my head another hard shake as I force my gaze to cut from her.

Tav slams a big hand on the table. “You what-now?”

Wrenlee says innocently, “I’m living with Cash now. We’re—”

She’s wasted and doesn’t seem to make a habit of this, so I drop my arm around her shoulders and interrupt, “Speaking of home, I’m gonna get her there.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Kane shakes his head, his Russian accent more obvious than usual, hands lifted high. “How’d this happen? How’d you move some chick in with you when we didn’t even know you were seeing her? We didn’t know you were seeing anybody.”

“Because I didn’t tell anyone.”

Kane looks suspicious. Ian looks hurt. And Tav, well, Tav looks curiously between me and Wrenlee. Candace looks like she thinks this is going to be a damn good time.

“Dude,” Ian breathes, and Candace lets out a small chuff of laughter.

I narrow my eyes on her, wondering again what Wrenlee confessed to her before I look back to my wasted fake girlfriend.

“Talk soon, guys. Right now, Wrenlee’s my focus.” I tip my chin at the group. “You got my shit for me?”

Ian nods. Kane grumbles, “Sure.”

“Later.”

Then, without another word, I scoop Wrenlee from the chair and head for the back doors of Club Violet.

“I’m so tired,” Wrenlee tells me as we ride the elevator to my floor. She’s leaning against the far wall, her head rolling back against the hard surface. “I didn’t sleep at all last night, worrying how I was going to do it after Addy cut my shifts.”

I don’t tell her she’d had no reason to worry. I’d already told her I’d see to taking care of her financially if she became my fake girlfriend. The girl is imbibed, big time. If I had to take a guess; I’d guess she doesn’t drink. At all.

Because from what I know of her so far, she’s quiet and careful with what she shares about herself. Tonight, that’s not the case. Tonight, she’s an open book with big, bold font.

I’m taking this chance to lean back and read.

“I’ve slept on an air mattress with a pin hole in it I can’t find. I wake around two or three every morning on the floor. It’s been that way since I moved here and I never bothered to complain, because why complain when I couldn’t fix it?” She laughs dryly. “I could hardly afford to eat twice a day, never mind buying a real mattress. But I snuggled up on the bed in your spare room today and—Cash—” The sound of my name on her lips like that pulls a physical response from every inch of me. I don’t like it, and yet I do.

She speaks again, “I almost didn’t come to the club. I know you asked me to, and I wanted to do what you asked, but parting from that bed was so hard. I’m going to sleep like the dead tonight, even though I’m afraid to sleep in your place.”

My interest is piqued. “Why are you afraid?”

The doors roll open and she blinks at them as though just realizing where she is. She doesn’t answer and I follow her into the hall, guiding her to my door and pushing the key inside. She follows me, already working on pulling off her boots. She stumbles, and I catch her with my hands on her hips. I can’t lie and say this position with her in front of me, bent over like this, my hands on her hips and her full round ass on perfect display in her tight jeans—that I’m not thinking of what her ass might look like out of her jeans. I feel the vision of that in my dick.

She shimmies out of my hold, bracing against the wall as she kicks off her boots. Her cheeks are flushed. “Sorry.”

I don’t give her a reply, but she doesn’t seem to care as she stumbles into my condo. Standing in the living room, she does a slow spin. “I can’t believe you live in a place like this. It’s so pretty.”

With the exposed brick wall, the knotted wood floor and the high ceilings, I wouldn’t say it’s pretty. Of all the places I’d looked at, this is the only one I felt at home in. The only place with personality. With soul. I’m not the kind of guy who likes sleek, empty spaces. Black and white high-gloss voids aren’t my thing.

She points to the stairs on the far side of the living room. “Is your bedroom up there?”

“No. That’s next door to yours.” My words bring the red back to her cheeks. What are you thinking, Kitten?

“What’s up there?”

I give her a look. She shifts under my scrutiny. “I’ll show you; you think you can manage the stairs.”

She lifts her chin in cute indignance. “Why couldn’t I manage the stairs?”

I almost laugh, but don’t. Instead, I swing my hand in the direction of the stairs. “After you.”

With a cautious glance over a shoulder at me, she moves that way. The girl slips on the first damn step, catching herself with the railing. She mumbles crossly, “That one came out of nowhere.”

“Just appeared,” I reply dryly.

She lets out a tiny squeak when three steps later, she does the same thing. I don’t even think about it as I scoop her into my arms bridal style, taking the remaining stairs fast and without complication. Her breath catches in her chest and her arms move fast to loop around my neck as she breathes my name in a way I really like, and really shouldn’t.

I don’t set her down like I should when we get to the top. I just let her take it in.

The space over the living area downstairs is high, the ceiling open. The second floor of my penthouse condo has a wide, open gym to the far right, and closer to the glass wall and double patio doors that lead to the patio is a bar and lounge area. Outside the patio door is a large rooftop lounge area, pool, and hot tub. A table sits under a gazebo next to a built-in bar and barbeque area.

When I saw this condo, I’d liked the brick wall and the warm wood tones. But I’d fallen for this outdoor space.

Her body goes slack in my arms a moment before she starts to wiggle herself free. “Cash.” She breathes my name again. “This is—this is crazy.” Her hand darts in the direction of the doors. “You have a pool. A hot tub. You have—” Her head swings back to me and she squints. “Who are you?”

Originally from L.A. Only son of two famous movie producers and the grandson of the owner of Jagger Productions who married the heiress to Aroura Diamonds. Saying my family has money is like saying snow is white. It’s just fact. Plain and simple.

I don’t give her any of that. Just say simply, “I’m Cash Jagger.”

She blinks wide eyes at me before she turns back to the patio, muttering, “Your band must be doing really good. That, or you’re in debt big time.”

It’s charming how she doesn’t know about me. How she doesn’t know about my family. Most chicks I fuck around with are turned on by the tortured musician, but they want to be taken care of by the guy with the family worth billions.

Who I am is no secret. Most of the women in my company know. The fact she doesn’t speaks volumes.

I wonder how long it’ll take her to figure it all out. Wonder how long I have with this Wrenlee before she changes.

She takes a step toward the doors, then stops to glance shyly at me. “Can I?”

“This is your home now, too. Do what you like.”

Her face flames and she dips it before she turns and moves slowly to the doors. I watch her, hands shoved in my pockets. I think my little game of show and stun has sobered her just a bit, because she doesn’t fumble with the lock or stumble as she strolls in awe around the patio. Moving forward, I flip the switch that lets the patio glow with little iridescent bulbs that hang over the space, giving it that magical quality girls get giddy for.

Wrenlee isn’t unlike the rest as she tips her head back to gaze at the lights, mystified. Where she differs is in what happens next. Most girls get seductive now. They want to fuck on the patio below the lights, they want the chance to sink their claws deep, let their poison run loose. I always take the offer, then I toss them out on their asses, the lustre of what they could have been lost.

I hate being wanted for the shit I possess. I despise being desired for the money in my bank account, the name I carry. But the thing I won’t admit to anyone, hardly even admitting to myself, is that it fucking hurts when the woman I want isn’t interested in knowing me, because all she wants, all she cares about, is what I can give her.

I learned a long time ago not to expect real from women. Real isn’t something a man like me finds. Real isn’t—well, fuck, it’s not real.

“Can I sleep out here?”

Is she trying to seduce me, now? Breaking her no-sex rule so fast?

I want to test her. “You want to sleep out here?”

She nods excitedly. She looks younger than usual with that flash of hope in her bright eyes. “Yes. Oh my God, yes!” When she tips her head to angle her face to the sky, a dreamy expression masking her face as she looks up at the dark sky, I don’t think she’s trying to seduce me. Doesn’t mean she’s not doing a fantastic job of it, nonetheless.

“It’s early October,” I tell her. “It’s cold.”

“I can bring blankets out.” She points to the lounge chairs. “And you have those. And the hammock. And it’s—” She twirls under the twinkle of strung lights, head tipped back—a soft smile touching full lips. “Cash, this is a dream.”

Fuck, I love it when she says my name.

I feel myself softening for her. I don’t like it. “I don’t know.”

She looks crushed, then asks softly, “Please? I mean, I’m not asking you to freeze with me.” She laughs, sounding a little embarrassed. “You can sleep inside. I don’t mind being out here alone.”

Not without me, baby.“Thought you were excited to sleep in a real bed?”

She gives the chairs a longing look. “There are moments in life that you just don’t pass up. Opportunities to experience wonder and magic. Dad always says daily life is dull. The days begin to blur the older we get and before we know it, years have passed. He says it’s important that we keep our eyes open for magic, that we soak it in and store it away deep inside.”

Her green eyes land on me, slamming into my chest like a physical blow.

She continues, “I might be here with you now, in this crazy, once-in-a-lifetime place, but that’s just it. It’s once-in-a-lifetime. Tomorrow, you could decide you don’t want to do this—don’t want me here—and I’ll have lost the opportunity to know this magic. So, yes, I want to sleep out here tonight. In the cold, tucked under a warm blanket. I want to experience this magic so that I can store it away.” She laughs softly, breathily. If someone bottled magic, it would be her—this girl. “I have a feeling there will be a few different mattresses in my life. I doubt I’ll ever experience another rooftop wonderland.”

“Stay here.” The words come out rough. Guttural. Raw.

Exactly how she made me feel.