Читать книгу Sex, Lies and Designer Shoes - Kimberly Meter Van - Страница 13

5

STOP WITH THE DEBATES, he chastised himself. It was unhealthy and unprofessional—but he couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut. She brought out the worst in him. Maybe he ought to call Kane and have him take over. But even as the sensible thought flitted across his mind, he couldn’t actually commit. He didn’t want anyone else handling this case.

Maybe because giving up would feel like a failure, or maybe it was because of something else, but he just wasn’t ready to let go. And the fact that CoCo was calling him on his bullshit was something that he hadn’t expected. Yeah, she was smart. She’d seen right through the fact that he was deliberately baiting her. Sure, the place was safe—he wouldn’t lie about that—but there were other places he could’ve picked that were just as safe but not as squalid.

The thing about the bed, though, that’d come as a shock. In the past when he’d used this place, there’d been two full beds. But it’d been a while since he’d come around and the management must’ve decided to spruce things up. He could try to switch rooms but he couldn’t give up the strategic position, and he wasn’t about to take chances with CoCo’s life even if she did irritate the shit out of him.

He made quick work of finding a burger joint, ordering enough food to last them for the night, and then returned to the hotel. This time, he told himself, he wasn’t going to let her get under his skin. He was a professional and he was going to start acting like one. With a quick look around to make sure that nobody was watching him, he let himself into the room.

Time to start fresh. “Look, since we have to work together for the next couple of days, how about we call a truce? I won’t needle you and you won’t needle me and we’ll get along just fine.” He handed her a bag of burger and fries.

She accepted the food offering with a small nod. “I guess that’ll be okay. But this place sucks. Surely we can go somewhere else, somewhere less third-world country.”

“Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Right now we need to hole up and make sure that the place is secure.”

She made an exasperated sound, wanting to slap him silly right in that too-hot-for-his-own-good face. “Enough with the dire warnings of imminent death. What an enormous wet blanket you are. Do you realize how many times somebody has threatened my dad’s life? People are crazy. But nothing has ever happened to him and we’re going to be fine.”

“Have you read any of the threats that have come his way?” he asked.

She shook her head. “My dad doesn’t let me see those things but I know he’s been threatened before. The thing is, when you have a lot of money, you have a lot of enemies. And it’s not because you did anything specific, it’s just because some people with less hate those who have more.”

“Sometimes,” he agreed. “But sometimes they also have a reason. Do you think there’s any reason why your dad might be targeted?”

“No. This is the work of someone who’s just crazy. I’m sure of it.”

But Rian wasn’t so sure. Enzo had to believe this was a credible threat to bring in the big hitters. “I can tell you that the FBI doesn’t get involved unless it’s a real threat. I think your dad is right in keeping you out of harm’s way. You are an easy target. If whoever is threatening him got a hold of you, all the power would be in their hands.”

Obviously she hadn’t thought of it that way. “But I don’t understand who would hate him so much that they would do this. I don’t understand it at all. My dad makes shoes, for crying out loud. It’s not like he’s trading in state secrets.”

“How do you know? A shoe business would make a great front.”

She hit him with a dark look.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not calling your dad anything. I’m just playing devil’s advocate.”

“Well, stop. My dad is an honorable man.”

“I apologize. I’m not trying to say anything bad against your dad. I’m just trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle.”

“It’s not your job to figure out anything. Your job is to keep me safe.”

She had a point, but did she have to be so bitchy about it? “Yeah, I hear you. Loud and clear.” It was his fault for thinking he and CoCo could engage in a civil conversation. He gestured to her cheeseburger. “Eat your burger. I’m not heading back out just because you let your food go cold.”

They ate in silence—which surprised him because he didn’t think that CoCo had the ability to remain quiet. Either way it was a welcome respite.

* * *

SHE HADN’T MEANT to be rude but his comment about her father rubbed her the wrong way. Maybe because she’d worried herself that her father had done something to bring this trouble on their heads. She didn’t know his business practices but she assumed he was an honorable man because she hated to think of him any other way. The fact that Rian had thrown the question on the table had only served to bring up her own misgivings.

“How did you get into this line of work?” she asked, needing something to keep her from obsessing about things she couldn’t control. The close quarters were bad enough but being locked in a room with Rian was doing confusing things to her insides. “I mean, it doesn’t seem like something you just fall into on a whim.”

“Oh, is this story hour? Now are we gonna share about each other’s lives and sing ‘Kumbaya’?”

She drew back with a bristle. “Look, I’m just trying to make the time pass. If you want to be a jerk about it, fine. We can stare at the walls and watch the cockroaches to pass the time.”

That seemed to knock some sense into him as he had the decency to look regretful. “Sorry, I’m not used to you being friendly. I didn’t recognize it as a genuine attempt at small talk.”

“See? That’s what I’m talking about. I try to be nice and then you go and say something mean and then it starts all over again. Can’t we get along for ten minutes?”

“Yeah, sure. Sorry. Let me switch gears for a minute.” He wiped his mouth and acted as if he was indeed switching a gear in his head. “All right, what do you want to know? How did I get into this business? My brother, Kane, and I started it up when we realized there were plenty of people out there who would pay through the nose for a little protection. We figured we had the skills—former military, special skills training—and we decided to make it work for us. It was either that or spend the rest of our lives in therapy for PTSD issues. This seemed like the better option.”

“You’ve been in open combat?” she asked, surprised and a little impressed. “Do you have any scars?”

“Mental or physical?”

She shrugged. “Either.”

“Both. But like I said, therapy just didn’t seem like it was gonna work out. I like to shoot things. And in our line of work we get the opportunity to do that. And get paid well for it, so it’s a win-win.”

“So, you and your brother do this together? Is your brother like you?”

“No.” He paused to grin. “He’s not as nice.”

At that she laughed. “Wow. Thanksgiving dinner around your table must be pretty fun.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not big on the holiday scene. Neither of us make a big deal out of that stuff because we never really had it growing up.” A moment passed between them before he pulled himself out of his own thoughts to switch his attention back to her. “What do you do for fun when you’re not out there playing into the stereotype?”

“And what stereotype would that be?” she asked drily. “And here I thought we were off to a good start. You just don’t know how to be nice, do you?”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. I can’t seem to watch my mouth around you. Tell me what you do for fun.”

“I do whatever I want to do.” Damn it, now she was the one being defensive. But what could she say? She did love her life. Might as well own it. “I shop. I party.” That’s what he expected her to say, anyway. As if he would believe her if she told him that she actually wanted to design shoes like her father. Besides, that was private. She wasn’t going to share that with Rian and run the risk of being mocked. “This was a stupid idea, to chitchat. We obviously have nothing in common.”

“Don’t get your panties twisted. We just seem to set each other off for some reason. I’m interested in knowing more about you—the real you. I’m listening if you want to try again.”

She eyed him with suspicion. “Seriously? You’re not just saying that?”

“I don’t say a thing I don’t mean. Go ahead, tell me something interesting about yourself.”

CoCo took a moment to think, then said, “Well, I speak fluent Italian, decent French and a tiny bit of Russian.”

His brows rose. “That is impressive. Benefit of being shuttled between parents who live on opposite continents?”

“Mostly. But European school systems are different than here in the States. It’s just natural for most kids to speak more than one language. I don’t want to sound superior anything but the European school system is much more rigorous.”

“Makes sense. Although if I was required to learn more than one language I probably would’ve failed high school. English was hard enough.” He chuckled. “But that’s actually kind of cool that you’re fluent in so many other languages.”

She smiled. “It comes in handy when ordering in fancy restaurants. I’m usually the only one who knows what I’m actually ordering.”

He laughed. “Are you the designated orderer when you go to restaurants with your friends?”

She nodded. “Yes. But I don’t mind. I like being helpful when I can.”

That must’ve amazed him. “Tell me something else about yourself that would surprise me.”

“Why?” Were they actually having a decent conversation? She wasn’t sure if this was good or bad. Keeping a professional distance might help with the annoying flits of excitement tickling her stomach each time she caught him smiling. He had nice, kissable lips when he wasn’t being a colossal toad. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like that we’re not trying to kill each other right now but I’m not quite sure why you’re suddenly being so nice.”

He sighed, stretching out his legs as he confessed, “Look, I was a jerk when we first met. There’s something about you that gets under my skin. I grew up really poor. I’m talking the kind of poverty that no one likes to think about. It makes it hard to see all these people who have so much act so crappy to their fellow human beings. I’ve always believed that if you have extra you should give a little extra. But that doesn’t seem to be the prevailing attitude around here. Los Angeles is a whole other world and not a very generous one from what I can see.”

“I try to donate when I can. I mean, I don’t do it as much as I should but I have a few charities that I like to donate to.”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about. You’re an heiress and you never have to worry about where your next meal is coming from, but when I was growing up I went days without food. My old man was a bastard drunk, and a mean one at that. If it weren’t for my older brother—well, let’s just say I probably wouldn’t be here today. Being hungry is something kids should never have to experience. There are basic rights a human being should have and food is one of them.”

CoCo didn’t know how to respond. She’d never gone a day in her life knowing the pangs of hunger. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that. You’re right, every kid deserves food. But that’s really no reason to take it out on me just because I didn’t experience the same kind of childhood. I don’t mean to ruin this nice moment we’re having but you came at me with an attitude from the moment we met. And it wasn’t really fair. You didn’t know me from anyone and you judged me.”

“True,” he admitted. “However, I hate to say this but I wasn’t too far off the mark. I might’ve come off a little brusque but you were worse. What’s that say about you?”

“It says that I don’t like strangers crashing my party,” she answered coolly. “If I was nice to every single person who just randomly walked up to me, who knows who I’d be inviting into my life? I might not know what it’s like to live in extreme poverty but you don’t know what it’s like to live with extreme wealth. People can’t be trusted most times. Your inner circle becomes smaller and smaller and it’s out of necessity, not because you don’t like people. You never know who wants to rip you off.”

He was openly confused. “If that was the case, why did you have a house filled with people that you didn’t even know? You can’t tell me that all those people who came to your party are your personal friends. I guarantee half of those people were only there because they wanted to say they’d attended a CoCo Abelli party. I hate to break it to you, princess, but you have a reputation and it isn’t a pretty one.”

She blinked. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Why do you think the paparazzi follow you? It’s because you’re always getting yourself into trouble. Getting drunk, wardrobe malfunctions, partying too hard...it paints a picture.”

“It’s not my fault that photographers follow me around,” she said bitterly, embarrassed. “What if someone with a camera was always in your face every time that you went out? You can’t tell me that you haven’t made mistakes, maybe drank a little too much or whatever with friends. I make a mistake and it ends up all over the tabloids. That’s not my fault.”

“I’m sorry I don’t buy the ‘poor me’ routine. You put yourself in these positions and they capitalize on them. You say I don’t know what it’s like to have extreme wealth, you’re right. I don’t. But I know for certain I wouldn’t be out getting drunk and giving the paparazzi so much to work with.”

“You don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “There’s an expectation and understanding that if you run in certain circles you’re going to have to host certain parties.”

“Screw those circles. Doesn’t sound like the kind of circle I’d want to be in.”

“It’s easy for you to judge because you don’t live my life.”

“Absolutely. It’s also easy for me to see that what you’re doing isn’t healthy. You’re too close to the situation, you can’t see that you’re screwing up your life.”

She didn’t have to listen to this. Or did she? Where was she supposed to go? She was stuck in a tiny room. “Okay, story hour is over. Somehow we can’t even have a basic conversation without insulting one another. How about we just spend the next couple of days refraining from saying a single word to one another. Sound like a plan?”

“I have one final thing to say about this, because it seems like no one else in your life has the balls to tell you what you don’t want to hear. Anyone who would encourage you to get shit-faced drunk or high on pills doesn’t care about you—you’re simply the entertainment for the night. So you have money... No one says you have to act like an asshole. You could be giving. You could be generous. You could make lives better for other people. But instead you spend your time thinking only of yourself and how everything in the world affects you. I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but the world is bigger than the circle you’re occupying.”