"How long did the relationship last?"
"Three years. You know you only have one question left, right?"
I nodded. "What went wrong with your relationship?"
He looked at me darkly. "And here, I was starting to think I liked you." I could see the muscles in his throat work as he drank some more. "The relationship didn't work because it turned out my girlfriend was a cheater and a liar. She played me. Big time."
"I'm sorry," I said. "What happened?"
Lucas looked at me, his face impassive. "You know you're out of questions."
"I know. You don't have to answer." I took a sip of my drink, dreading my own impending turn on the hot seat.
"I'll answer anyway because you should probably know. She married my father." He laughed and drained his glass.
I just sat there, stunned. Was it possible that I'd finally met someone with a family as messed up as my own?
Chapter Four
Lucas
Well, at least we'd gotten that out of the way.
I poured myself another drink and splashed some more into Blake's glass. "Liquid courage," I said kindly. "Are you scandalized about my father? My ex-girlfriend?"
Her eyes were huge as she nodded.
"Don't be. I should've seen it coming." I sat back down, taking another sip of bourbon and regarding my fake fiancée. Actually, she was my real fiancée—my head started to swim with the logistics of it, so I pushed the thoughts aside. "Okay, enough chatting. It's time for your questions. Are you ready?"
Blake nodded again, but now instead of shocked, she looked nervous.
"Why do you work for Elena?"
"Because waitressing doesn't pay enough. And I'm taking care of my mom—she's sick, and she's on all sorts of medication that we can barely afford. I don't have a degree. I don't have any real skills. All I have is this." She pointed to her face. "And this." She motioned to the rest of her body.
Ah, her mom was sick. It was sad that she'd had to resort to working as an escort, but I understood. "Question number two: do you have a boyfriend?"
She laughed. "No."
"Question number three: have you ever had a boyfriend?"
Blake stopped laughing and took a gulp of her drink. "Yes."
"You're not really into giving way too many details, huh?"
"Does that count as one of your questions?" she asked hopefully.
"Absolutely not. Question number four: tell me more about your boyfriend—the one you don't want to talk about."
She lifted her chin a little, an almost imperceptible sign of defiance. "What makes you think I don't want to talk about him?"
"It's not your turn to ask me things. Just answer the question—honestly. I figure that's the least we can do for each other." I drained my glass again.
"He was my high-school sweetheart. He cheated on me after we were engaged. A month before our wedding." Her cheeks flushed. "With my sister."
Whoa. "Your family sounds almost as messed up as mine."
She smiled at me tightly and finished her drink.