Going Deep (Imperfect Love Book 2) Read online

The elevator door opens on my floor. “I have that endorsement party for Bugatti tomorrow night, so I won’t see you until Friday. Text me when and where to meet you guys and I’ll be there.”

  Nick nods. “Thanks, man, and congrats on your deal.”

  I thank him then step off the elevator, the door closing behind me.

  * * *

  “Tabitha, you look beautiful.” I step out of the limousine and give my date a kiss on her cheek. She’s dressed in a black floor-length gown, and her blond locks are up in a bun of some sort. Amber came through, as always.

  “Thank you, Mr. Blake,” she gushes as I help her inside before walking around to the other side so she doesn’t have to slide over in her dress.

  “Please, call me Killian. Tonight we’re going to a party to announce and sign my endorsement deal with Bugatti. They’re planning to run the ads during the playoffs and Super Bowl. There’ll be some pretty big investors there.”

  “Understood,” she says with a smile. We make small talk on the way to the Four Seasons where the party is being held. Tabitha is polite and professional, and I can already tell tonight will be a good night.

  Once we arrive, we’re escorted back. I’m met with several people who introduce themselves, including the head of the design team who is in charge of making the special edition.

  “This beautiful car will only be available to fifteen people,” Travis boasts, clearly proud of what his team has created.

  “I’m just honored I’ll be one of those fifteen people.” I shake his hand.

  “That’s so exciting,” Tabitha whispers enthusiastically.

  I begin to tell her it’s a dream come true when I spot someone I know out of the corner of my eye and wonder why in the world she’s here at my party. “Excuse me for a second. I see someone I know.”

  I make my way over to the bar where she’s sitting on a cushioned stool. When I get close enough, I notice she’s sipping on what looks like some type of scotch. Of course she is. While most women would choose a fruity drink of some sort, Giselle chooses the hard stuff. Her brown hair is pin straight down her back, and her blood-red dress fits every curve of her damn body perfectly. When I approach the bar, the bartender asks what I would like.

  “Jameson whiskey sour, please.” I lean one elbow against the bar top and face her. “What are you doing here?”

  She takes a slow sip of her drink before she gives me any of her attention. “I’m assuming the same thing you’re doing here. Celebrating the endorsement deal for a…” Her voice trails off as she realizes just who the endorsement deal is for. “You?” She shoots me a side-eye, her nose scrunching up as she takes another sip of her drink.

  “Yes, me, and I’m almost positive an interior design intern isn’t needed for any part of this deal, so I’ll ask again, what are you doing here? Did you crash the party in an attempt to find some rich guy to latch onto?”

  She cackles, throwing her head back like what I just said was the funniest thing she’s ever heard. Then, she stands, and because I’m standing directly next to her barstool, the front of her body rubs up against mine, and her perky tits, which are overflowing out of the top of her dress, press against my chest. I force myself to keep my eyes on hers.

  She leans into me and whispers, “I’m here with the man you made the deal with, silly. The man, who in about sixty minutes will be nestled between my thighs, fucking me senseless. And if I wanted him to, would give me ten of these stupid ugly cars.” Giselle smirks snidely as she edges out from between the stool and me, remembering to take her drink with her.

  “There you are, lovely.” Roman Ette, the man responsible for this deal taking place, comes over and rests his hand on Giselle’s back, giving her a chaste kiss to her cheek. “I should’ve known you ran off to the bar.” He smiles at her, and Giselle giggles. What the fuck! She actually giggles. Who the hell is this woman, and if she’s dating him, why is she crying broke?

  “You know me too well, Roman. I was actually on my way back to find you. I was only gone but a minute.” She giggles some more. “Were you missing me already?”

  “Always.” He shoots her a wink then turns his attention back to me. “Mr. Blake, I heard the guest of honor arrived.” He extends his hand and I shake it. “Are you excited to see your special edition?”

  “I am, sir. This is truly a dream come true.” I spot Tabitha making her way over, but for some reason, everything I found to be beautiful about her suddenly seems so plain. I refuse to acknowledge my thoughts have anything to do with the woman still standing in front of me, currently eye-fucking a man more than twice her age.

  Tabitha stops at my side and I make introductions. “Tabitha, this is Roman Ette.”

  “Nice to meet you, sir.” She smiles politely.

  “And this is his date.” I make it a point not to mention Giselle’s name, refusing to give her any importance, just to piss her off.

  So, I’m shocked when Tabitha says, “Nice to meet you, Giselle.” My eyes dart over to Tabitha first, who doesn’t seem to notice her slip-up—maybe she knows her?—but then my gaze goes to Giselle. Her glacier-blue eyes which normally appear cold, go wide with what looks like worry, and I know right away something is up.

  “Do you two know each other?” I ask.

  “We do.” Giselle quickly speaks first. “We went to school together.”

  “Oh, really? Where did you go to school, Tabitha?” Her eyes are now as wide as Giselle’s.

  “We went to NYU—” Giselle begins to say, but I cut her off.

  “I asked Tabitha.”

  “We went to NYU,” Tabitha says.

  “Really?” Roman says, joining the conversation. “I thought you went to school in Paris?” His question is aimed at Giselle.

  “I did. NYU Paris,” she says, her perfect smile never faltering. But as I rake my eyes down her body, I notice she’s wringing her hands together—something I’d seen her do a few months back when she was worried about her mom. It’s her telltale sign she’s nervous. Why would Giselle be nervous? Unless she has something to hide…

  “Yes, NYU Paris,” Tabitha agrees, but unlike Giselle, she isn’t as good at faking it. Her voice wavering with each word she speaks.

  Roman smiles, none the wiser, but something feels off. My gaze meets Giselle’s, and for the first time since I ran into her, she isn’t glaring at me. Instead, it’s almost as if she’s pleading with me to drop it. Her eyes are no longer icy—they’re vulnerable, exposed. I’ve seen this look from her before. I remember it well because it’s not often Giselle allows herself to appear weak.

  My thoughts go back several months to the night we spent in the Hamptons with our friends. We had been partying at AM Southampton until Olivia got too drunk and Nick felt it was time to head home.

  As we were all climbing the stairs, Olivia, in all her drunken glory, decided to assign each woman to a princess. Celeste was labeled Belle, and Giselle was Rapunzel, but that wasn’t the part that got my attention. What did was what Olivia said afterward:

  “And one day you’re going to meet a prince you will trust with all of your secrets, and he’s going to save you just like Flynn Ryder saved Rapunzel.”

  Giselle’s eyes went wide, much like they are now, as she silently pleaded with her best friend to shut up. But her eyes weren’t angry…they were scared. She’s always been a damn contradiction: strong, yet she relies on her best friend to support her. Hard working, yet she dates rich men who want nothing more than a trophy wife on their arm. Maybe I was focusing on the wrong part of what Olivia said. On the part about her needing to be saved, when what I should’ve been paying attention to was the part about her having secrets. Is it possible there’s more to Giselle than what meets the eye?

  The rest of the night goes smoothly, and I force myself to push any more thoughts of Giselle out of my head. It doesn’t matter what she’s hiding. None of it is my business. Giselle isn’t my business. And the last thing I need in my life is a lying, sneaking, se
cret-keeping woman. I’ve dealt with those type of women more times than I can count, and I’ve learned my lesson the hard way. I’ll be damned if I put my hand on the hot stove after getting burnt.

  Once the night comes to an end, Tabitha and I say our goodbyes. When we’re a few minutes away from her apartment, I can’t help myself. I told myself I didn’t care what Giselle is hiding, but I can’t get her off my mind.

  “What did you major in at NYU?” I ask. Tabitha flinches.

  “I…um…I didn’t make it that far.” She shrugs. “I dropped out.” Her eyes dart everywhere in the limo but at me.

  I open my mouth to ask her another question when she squeaks out, “Oh, we’re here.” She scoops up her clutch then quickly swings the door open. “I hope you had a good night.” She smiles awkwardly then slides out, shutting the door behind her and scurrying up the sidewalk like her ass is on fire.

  Oh yeah, something is definitely up.

  Once I’m back home, I shower and change into some lounge pants. I try to get Giselle off my mind, but it’s not happening. I lay in bed and turn on the television, willing myself to drop whatever I’m thinking. But the more I try not to think about her, the more I do. A memory surfaces from our night in the Hamptons—after Celeste, Nick, and Olivia disappeared into their rooms, and I thought Giselle had done the same thing.

  “Hey! Do you mind?” Giselle snaps at me.

  “Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was in the bathroom.” I should’ve knocked, but when I grabbed the knob and it opened, I assumed it was empty. Now that I know it is indeed occupied, I should close the door, but instead my eyes are frozen on Giselle’s sexy body. She’s wearing a powder blue lace bra that matches her eyes. Her nipples are hard and pebbling through the thin material. My eyes drag down her body, over her toned stomach, and land on her tiny matching lace panties. Without thinking, I lick my lips as I imagine what her cunt would taste like. It’s been a long time since I—

  “See something you like?” She smirks and takes a step forward. “Too bad I don’t fuck athletes.” Her hand lands on my chest. She pats it condescendingly, effectively snapping me out of my trance as she saunters past me, out of the bathroom, and leaves me standing there with a raging hard-on.

  I think what confuses me the most about Giselle is while everyone is privy to that version of her, the beautiful woman who hides behind her ice-queen persona, I’ve seen another side of her. A side I’m not even sure Olivia has ever seen.

  The next morning, Giselle gets a phone call from her sister that her dad left her mom. She has no way of getting there, so I offer to take her. After a completely silent two-hour drive to Rye, we pull up to her house. Giselle quickly unbuckles her seatbelt, throws open the car door, and runs up the short sidewalk to her parents’ house. It reminds me a lot of the home I grew up in before I could afford to buy my parents a nicer place. A single story home on zero lot land with paint probably twenty years old peeling off the walls. There’s a beat-up looking Ford Focus in the driveway that must be at least thirty years old. I step out of my vehicle and my eyes land on some teenagers who are currently standing on the street engaging in what looks to be a drug deal. One of them gives me a curt nod, and I hit the alarm on my car, knowing damn well it won’t really do any good in a neighborhood like this.

  I walk into the house to find Giselle and her sister talking. Their words come to a halt when her sister sees me. “Who’s this?” she asks, and Giselle introduces us. “This is Killian, a friend of Nick and Olivia’s. He brought me here.”

  “Thank you.” She wraps her arms around Giselle in a hug. “I’m so sorry. She won’t come out, and I have to get back to school. I didn’t know—”

  Giselle pulls back. “It’s okay,” she says, cutting her off. “Go, and don’t worry about a thing. Just focus on your classes. I will make sure mom is okay. I promise.” She gives her sister another hug, then pushes her out the door. Once it’s closed, her back hits the wood and she lets out a deep sigh. Her eyes close, and for just a small moment, she appears softer. She doesn’t look anything like the closed-off ice-cold woman I’ve come to know the last couple months. That is until she opens her eyes back up and speaks.

  “You can wait outside. I don’t need you here.” Her blue eyes are once again hard, and she glares at me like I’m the enemy. Without waiting for me to speak, she blows past me down the hall. I’m about to go back outside when I notice she’s trying to pry the door open with a screwdriver.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like?” she snaps. “I’m having a fucking tea party? I’m trying to open the door! My mom locked herself in there.”

  I walk down the hall and take the screwdriver out of her hand. “That’s not going to work.”

  “Well, I need to get in there. Can you break it down, please?”

  “You sure?” I ask. “The doorjamb will probably splinter.”

  “Yes. My mom…she could be…” She doesn’t finish her sentence with words, but instead with her terrified eyes. I tell her to stand back, then I kick the door, and just as I predicted, it opens but the frame splinters, and pieces of wood fall to the ground.

  “Thank you.” She rushes into the room while I stay in the doorway. Her mom is on her bed, sobbing, and Giselle climbs on to the bed and pulls her head into her lap.

  “He’s gone,” her mom cries. “He left me.”

  “It’s okay, Mom,” Giselle says in the same melodic tone parents use when trying to soothe their upset babies.

  Wanting to give them their space, I back out of the doorway and walk back down the hall to wait in the living room. I haven’t even sat down on the sofa when I hear screaming and shouting coming from the bedroom.

  “It’s all your fault! I hate you!” The voice isn’t Giselle’s, so it must be her mother. I start to walk back toward the bedroom.

  “Mom, please calm down.”

  I stop in my tracks, unsure of what I should do. Then I hear something crash, and then Giselle says, “Mom, stop, that hurts.”

  My feet move of their own accord into the bedroom, where I see Giselle’s mother dragging Giselle by her hair to the center of the room.

  “Mom, you’re hurting me!” she yells, but her mom doesn’t stop.

  “Everyone left me! You, your sister, now your father!” When her mom turns her back toward me, pulling Giselle into a standing position, I come up behind her and cage her arms in my own. I’m not sure if I’m doing the right thing, but I can’t just stand here and watch her hurt her daughter. Giselle’s mom appears to be shocked at first, her head tilting back to look at me, but then she starts to fight back. For a tiny little thing, she sure is strong. She thrashes about and tries to kick me in the groin, all while screaming for me to let her go. Giselle runs out of the room, and a few seconds later, returns. She stabs her mom with a needle to her neck, and a few minutes later, her mom’s body feels like dead weight in my arms.

  “You, umm…you didn’t kill her, did you?” I ask nervously.

  “No, it’s a sedative. We try not to use it unless it’s necessary. I knew there was no way I would be able to get her to swallow her pills. Thank you for holding her down. Usually her nurse is here, but she has the weekends off when my dad is home. You can lay her down.”

  Carefully, I lift her and set her on the bed. She’s definitely out.

  Giselle walks over to the dresser and opens the drawer. “Damn it!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My dad really did leave. All of his clothes are gone.” She slides open the closet door and there’s a huge empty spot.

  “What’s wrong with your mom?” I ask.

  “She suffers from depression, and we can’t seem to find meds that work.” She pulls out her phone and dials someone. “Donna, it’s Giselle. Listen, my dad left. All of his stuff is gone. Until I can figure everything out, can you stay with her?” She goes quiet, listening to the person on the other end. Then she says, “Yes, of course you will be paid accord
ingly.” She listens some more and then says, “Okay, thank you,” before ending the call.

  “If you’re afraid of your mom being alone, we could bring her with us,” I offer.

  “She hates to leave her house, and since I live with Olivia, that’s not an option. I’m not about to bring my shit to her doorstep. I’ll figure it out. I’m sorry you had to see that.” She smiles softly, but it’s a sad smile, and my heart hurts for her. But then her eyes meet mine, and it’s as if she’s just remembered she isn’t supposed to be nice to me.

  “You can wait outside in the car. Once Donna gets here, we can go,” she says, clearly dismissing me, and I can already see her mask rising back over her face.

  The ride home was once again silent. When we arrived at her place, she quickly thanked me and got out, and since then she’s never once mentioned her mom again. I have no idea what happened—if her dad returned, or even how her mom is doing. I haven’t asked, and she hasn’t spoken of it. I shouldn’t even care. It’s not my business. She’s not my business. So then why are you thinking about her?

  Three

  Giselle

  I’m sitting at the table in my favorite Japanese restaurant with Celeste, Killian, Nick, and Olivia. Adrianna didn’t make it down because she had an important cram session she needed to attend for an upcoming test, and I insisted she stay there to prepare. Nick and Killian are discussing their win against Jacksonville and what they need to do to beat Pittsburgh. Olivia is showing Celeste pictures of Reed since she’s been out of the country the last few months. She launched her new clothing line worldwide last year, and she’s been traveling all over to promote it.

  We’re all here to celebrate my twenty-sixth birthday, and the only thing I want to do is go home and get some sleep. I’m beyond exhausted from all the hours I’ve worked this week. But because I know tonight means a lot to Olivia, and I’ve been pushing her away recently, I keep a smile on my face as I listen to everyone around me converse.

  “You ended up staying longer than planned. Did you meet anyone special while you were away?” Olivia asks Celeste, waggling her eyebrows playfully.