Beautiful Stranger (Beautiful Bastard 2)

He opened his mouth to say something, but then my phone rang, vibrating where I’d put it on the table. And as both Max and I looked down at it, I knew we saw the name at exactly the same time.

ANDY CELL.

Twelve

I put Sara in a cab and watched as the taillights disappeared into the darkness.

Fuck.

She’d ignored the call at dinner, glancing at the screen before silencing it to vibrate against the table, but not before I saw who it was, and definitely not before I saw her try to hide her reaction.

ANDY CELL.

I’d never seen anyone shut down like that before; it was like someone flipped a switch and the light slowly drained from her face. She’d begun picking at her food and stopped talking, withdrawing into herself and answering in single-word sentences for the remainder of the meal. I’d tried to lighten the mood, told a few jokes and flirted with her shamelessly, but . . . nothing. After about ten minutes she’d put us both out of our misery, feigning a headache and insisting that she take a cab home. Alone.

Fuck.

I continued to stare off into the empty street as my car pulled up to the curb, idling quietly behind me. I waved off my driver, opening the door myself and climbing inside.

“Where to, Mr. Stella?”

“Let’s head home, Scott,” I said, slumping back into the seat. We pulled away and I watched the city rush by in a blur, my mood darkening with each block we passed.

Things had been going so well. She’d finally started to open up, to let me into that vault of a mind of hers. I was still reeling from her admission that her parents owned one of the largest luxury department store chains in the country, and then “Andy cell.” Fucking Andy cell.

Anger flared in my chest and for a brief moment I wondered how often they spoke. Six years was a long time and meant they had a history that would be hard to simply brush under the rug; I don’t know why I’d assumed he was completely out of her life. It made sense that she didn’t want to be in another relationship, but her forced distance always felt so much larger than that.

Maybe he wanted her back.

I frowned as I let that thought roll around in my head, hating the way it felt.

Of course he wanted her back; how could he not? For the hundredth time I found myself wondering what exactly happened between them and why she was so against telling me.

We drove through midtown and were almost to my building when my mobile vibrated in my pocket.

Home safe. Thanks for dinner. xx

Well, this night certainly went tits up.

I reread her text and considered calling, knowing it’d be a lost cause. She was so f**king stubborn. I typed out at least ten different replies, deleting each one before sending.

The problem was that I wanted to talk about this and she didn’t. The problem was also that I’d somehow misplaced my balls and my spine.

“You mind driving around a bit, Scott?” I asked, and he shook his head, turning north past the park. I flipped through my contacts and pressed Will’s name. It rang twice before he answered.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“You got a few?” I asked, looking out over the passing streets.

“Sure, give me a second.” There was some shuffling and the sound of a door closing before he was back. “Everything okay?”

I leaned my head back against the seat, not sure where to start. I just knew I had to unload some confusion with someone, and, unfortunately for him right now, that someone in my life was Will. “I have no idea.”

“Well, that was cryptic. I didn’t have an email telling me something is on fire, so I’m assuming this isn’t about work.”

“I wish.”

“Okay . . . Hey, didn’t you say something about having plans tonight?”

“That’s sort of why I’m calling, actually.” I scrubbed a hand along my jaw. “Jesus. I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I said. “I think I just need someone to . . . to listen. Like, if I say it out loud it’ll make more sense.”

“Well, this should be good,” he said, chuckling into the phone. “Let me get comfortable.”

“You know the woman I’ve been seeing.”

“Fucking. The woman you’ve been f**king.”

I closed my eyes. “Will.”

“Yes, Max. Your amazing shag. The secret sex-only situation with the woman who does not want to be photographed and which will most definitely not go down in flames.”

I sighed. “So, about that,” I mumbled. “I mean . . . this is just between us, yeah?”

“Of course,” he said, sounding a bit offended. “I may be an ass**le but I’m a trustworthy ass**le. And shouldn’t you be over here so we can, like, I don’t know, do each other’s nails while we talk about our feelings?”

“It’s Sara Dillon.”

Silence. Well, that shut him up.

“Will?”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” I said, rubbing my temples.

“Sara Dillon. Sara Dillon of Ryan Media Group.”

“The very one. It started before I even knew she worked with Ben.”

“Wow. I mean, she’s gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, but, she seems really . . . reserved? Who would’ve thought she had it in her. Nice.”

And because it felt so good to just say it, I barreled on. “It started out as just a hookup. I could tell she was using me to play around, explore things.”

“Things?”

I scratched my jaw and winced as I admitted, “She likes to have sex in public.”

“Uh?” he said, laughing. “That doesn’t sound like the Sara Dillon I’ve met.”

“And she lets me take pictures of her.”

“Wait—what?”

“Photographs, sometimes more. Of us.”

“Of you . . .”

“Fucking.”

The silence stretched for a few moments and I swear I could hear his rapid-fire blinking. He cleared his throat. “Okay, the sex in public is pretty awesome, but every guy I know has taken pictures while he’s f**king a girl.”

“What’s your point, tosser?”

“That you’re behind the trend, dick.”

“Will, I’m being f**king serious here.”

“Okay. So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is tonight was the first night I managed to get her to go to a restaurant. I find out her parents own f**king Dillons, Will. The department store? These are things I didn’t even know before yesterday.”