Provocation (Explicitly Yours 3)

“I’m asking if it can even be made right.”

Lola glanced down at her hands, laced in her lap. Her knuckles were white from pressing her palms together. With a deep breath, she relaxed her fingers and looked up at him. Not a single muscle on her face moved until finally, she blinked. “Yes. If you want that.”

“I’m missing something here,” Beau said. “You were irate this morning. You should be broken.”

“Should be?” Lola asked, raising an eyebrow. “If I’m not, does that mean you failed?”

He opened his mouth. Did it? Did Beau have his power back if he hadn’t actually hurt her as much as he’d thought? There was no outcome to this where they both won. “No, I didn’t fail. You’re hurt, angry, confused. You want to know why I did this.”

“Yes, all of that’s true. That doesn’t mean I don’t still l—,” she hesitated but continued to look him in the eye, “care about you.”

Beau was suddenly warm in his suit. It’d been so long since he’d slept, he could almost convince himself he’d misheard what she’d been about to say. He didn’t doubt she loved him still—that didn’t change overnight. But love was anger and hurt and demanding the truth. He didn’t want this person, who was turning a blind eye. He wanted more, because when she loved him—that was power.

“Do you remember Hank Walken?” Beau asked.

Lola’s jaw shifted left then right. “How do you know Hank Walken?”

“He works for me.”

“He’s slime.”

“That’s why I keep him around.” Walken had done things for Beau he couldn’t have done for himself. Reaching for a dream was nice, but those who got there had to grab it by the throat, kill or be killed. Sometimes, it wasn’t pretty, what had to be done. “He’ll do anything for a buck. Like make a fake offer on Hey Joe.”

“It wasn’t fake. He was going to turn it into a rooftop bar. A lounge with—with celebrities, and…” They stared at each other, Beau watching the realization hit. “That was never going to happen?”

“Not on my watch. Hey Joe is a dump. Wasn’t worth my time.” Beau brushed Lola’s hair over her shoulder. “My time, my money—they were better spent on other things.”

“Were they? You’re such a savvy businessman? By my calculation, you lost big time on this deal. If you pit Walken against me and Johnny, then you knew Johnny and I would have to come back to you with a higher counteroffer for the first night. That would put you in a bidding war with yourself.”

Beau nodded. It was, by far, the most careless he’d ever been with his money, and that hadn’t been easy. But it’d almost been unavoidable, the seed of the idea planted early, maybe even on the sidewalk before they’d spoken.

“Walken put pressure on you to make a decision,” Beau said. “Johnny could justify anything because he’d never survive without Hey Joe. I knew that. More importantly, though, you knew it.”

“So instead of five hundred thousand, which was already more than what Hey Joe was worth, you drove the price up to a million.”

“No, actually. My offer was always a million.”

Her nostrils flared, but he could see she still didn’t understand. “It was five hundred. Trust me, a girl doesn’t forget the first time someone assigns her a dollar amount.”

“It was always a million.” Beau sniffed. He’d wanted to protect her in the hotel room that morning with Brigitte’s text, but instead she’d wanted the truth. That’s what he’d give her.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve dealt with many Johnnys in my life, and I knew he’d come back with a counteroffer. If I could get you to consider five hundred, there was no way you’d turn down twice that.”

Lola jutted her chin out, the cogs turning in her mind as she pieced the puzzle together. “You lowballed us. I knew I was being manipulated, but this is something else.”

“It’s basic negotiation,” Beau said. “Getting you into my bed was no different than any other business transaction. It should bring you some comfort to know it wasn’t all personal.”

“Comfort?” Lola snapped, jumping up from her stool. “You can’t treat people that way—commodities to be traded and moved around however suits you.” Her white cheeks were tinted pink, and the spark in her eyes had returned.

It reminded Beau of the first night when they’d argued, moments before he’d turned her around and fucked her against the hotel room window. Beau’s blood also rushed a little quicker. “I treat people how they allow me to treat them,” he said slowly. “You seem to forget I never forced you into a single thing.”

“Exactly. You made me ask for these things, beg for them. Fuck you.” She snatched her purse and turned away. “This isn’t worth it.”

Beau refrained from grabbing her arm like he wanted. They weren’t finished until he said they were, and he wasn’t ready to walk away yet. Especially after a comment he didn’t understand. “What isn’t worth it?”

Lola turned back and came right up under his chin. “After the first night, Johnny and I thought we had the bar, but we were in over our heads. What about that?”

“You agreed to buy something you couldn’t afford. At the end of the day, that’s why you took the second offer.”

“But you knew all along that would happen. You made it so I’d have no choice but to accept your second offer.” She smirked. “It’s a shame you weren’t confident enough in your abilities alone.”

“Oh, I was,” Beau said. “Nobody comes as hard as you did and doesn’t crawl back for seconds. Or thirds…”

Lola raised her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist before she could. “You’re heartless,” she spat, breathing hard. Her hair fell over one eye as she struggled to get her arm back. “There’s nothing there, where your heart should be—just a big, fat dollar sign.”

He loved the way she tried to take him on, every time she did it. Too much. He was getting hard, and he had a weakness for her—the combination of the two was like poison to his control. “Keep pushing my buttons. See what it gets you.”

“I couldn’t be any worse off than I am right now.” She jerked her entire body, and he released her so she stumbled backward.

“No?” he asked. “Let’s go, then. What you need is a good, hard spanking for your behavior tonight and an even better orgasm to ease the sting.”

She gaped, her mouth opening wider, presumably to tell him off, but nothing came. She snapped her jaw shut. “That’s all it ever was to you.”

He couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a question.

The lines around her eyes faded as she unwrinkled her nose. Her tone evened out. “Sex. Revenge. Fuck me, because I fucked you first.”

He’d seen this look on her face before—losing her struggle to submit. It’d been the first time he’d brought her to his hotel and made her crawl to him. Lola had become so much more than a conquest that night—she’d fulfilled Beau’s need for the impossible challenge he’d been looking for ever since he’d sold his first company. Beau was just as turned on now as he had been then.

“I have one last question,” Lola said. “After that, if you want me to leave, I will.”

Beau raised his eyebrows. If he wanted her to leave? She’d been in the middle of storming off, but she hadn’t yet. And the longer she stayed, the less he wanted her to leave. More and more, he needed to take her upstairs and have the night they were never supposed to have.

“Was any of it real?” she asked.

Beau stared at her, almost angered by the question. He had told her repeatedly that it was real, both while it was happening and after the fact. How many times could he say it? Despite manipulating her, he’d never once lied to get her there. Lying would’ve been cheating to win, and Beau never cheated. He played ugly, but he played fair.

“Everything was real, every detail I shared with you. I never lied about my past or my family. Not about my feelings. If you hadn’t read that text this morning, you would’ve gone home, broken up

with Johnny, and I would’ve been here waiting for you when you got back.” Beau was breathing hard, but the admission came easily. His time with Lola had been so limited, he’d had to learn how to open up fast. Without that, he never would’ve had a shot at getting her to love him. Now, his honesty felt natural.

She searched his eyes. “The stars?” she asked quietly. “Why did you drive me up Mulholland Drive? Where did that fit into your plan?”

Beau’s shoulders tensed. As they’d climbed the Santa Monica Mountains in his convertible, he’d glanced over at Lola. Her head had been tilted back to see the stars better, her hands cupped over her hair, loose strands flying around her face. She’d looked back at him right before he’d returned his eyes to the road.

Having her look at him that way—it’d been part of the plan. But the way it’d made him feel hadn’t. Could he have possibly stopped that feeling, though? Earlier that night, he’d been inside her where nobody else had been. Her body had melted like butter underneath him, the last of her walls coming down. She’d trusted him, and she was his. He’d known it then. They’d always had an expiration date, but sudden and deep panic had hit him in the chest. He couldn’t discard her, and he couldn’t keep her.

“Mulholland was a moment of weakness on my part,” Beau said carefully. “I thought it would make you happy.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Was it planned?” Her eyes dropped to his chest, and she closed them. “And the gas station?”

“What do you mean, the gas station?”

Lola was quiet as the question hung between them. Her insinuation became clear, and Beau would’ve laughed at the absurdity of it if it didn’t feel like such a punch in the gut. “You’re asking if I planned that?”

She opened her eyes. “You could’ve.”