1: In Which She's Blindsided

1: In Which She’s Blindsided

*******

Victor was late.

No, scratch that – Victor had merely taken it upon himself to further piss me off and forget our engagement; an engagement I’d forewarned him about exactly a week ago.

Prick, I thought to myself, glancing at my phone for the hundredth time. ‘Prick’ and Victor didn’t go together. Words like ‘gentle’, ‘sweet’, ‘safe’ and ‘average-looking’ were usually associated with him, which was why I’d initially picked him out.

But now this gentle, sweet, safe, average-looking guy had just stood me up at one of the most important functions of my year – my mother’s birthday party.

“Amor?” a voice I knew and hated all too well said from behind me. “Where’s your date what’s-his-name? Vic?”

I spun around to face my older sister. “Traffic.”

Grace pulled a face. “I hate it when that happens.” Her hand travelled to the protruding curve of her belly. “Oof. Your nephew is already a handful.”

I forced a laugh. “Poor you.” Show-off.

Grace gave me a pitying look, the words I’d just said mirrored in her face. “Well, I’ve got to go make sure Mum’s not pouring herself a fourth glass of red. You know how she is.” And she left, head held high; her modest, grey Versace dress swishing at her modest, fat ankles.

I despised the way Grace acted like our mother was a senile halfwit with one foot on the other side. It wasn’t fair to her at all, considering the fact that she could still hold a decent conversation and swoon over George Clooney.

For the billionth time, I tried Victor’s number and for the billionth time, I got voicemail.

“Sonofabitch,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “I’m going to castrate –”

“Amor?”

Oh great, I thought, turning around and ready to lash out at whoever it was who was probably going to ask me why I was dateless at my mother’s fancy birthday dinner.

“You are Amor, right?”

I realised that my mouth had dried up. Clearing my throat, I swallowed. “Yes. And you are...?”

“Your date.”

Without warning, ‘my date’ leaned in, possessively wrapped an arm around my waist, and brought his lips down against mine. The sensation of his warmth against mine instantly warmed me somewhere else; somewhere south – and I pulled away.

“What the hell –” I began.

“The agency sent me. Your loverboy had an accident this morning. Motorbike.” He shrugged. “I’m the replacement.”

“Keep your voice down,” I hissed, grabbing his arm and attempting to tug him out of the crowded entertainment lounge. It was like pulling a boulder. “Could we go somewhere private?”

“Sure. Whatever.” He allowed himself to be dragged behind me.

Mentally cursing to myself, I led him to the study, slamming the door shut behind us.

“Victor doesn’t own a bike,” were the first words out my mouth.

“No, he was hit by a bike. Poor cunt.”

I stiffened at the word. “Who are you again?”

“Ash.”

“Ash,” I repeated monotonously. “The agency sent me a guy called Ash.”

He reached into the pocket of his suit. “Want one? You look like you could use one.” He proceeded to light a cigarette.

“You can’t smoke in here!”

He glanced around the cluttered room. “I don’t see a no-smoking sign. Could it perhaps be written in invisible ink?”

I glared at him, all the while thinking about my best moves out of this situation. Ash or whatever-his-name leaned against one wall, languidly regarding me and puffing on his cigarette. With Victor out of commission for god-knows-how-long, I was stuck in a jam. All my family and friends were under the impression that Vic was my dependable, interesting-looking boyfriend. He was always present at work gatherings, family get-togethers and even funerals.

And now he’d gone and gotten himself hit by a motorcycle.

Why was he walking? With the money I fork out, he should be loaded!

Someone at the agency obviously thought I was desperate enough to accept a guy called Ash. And now that I looked at him, I could see that they really thought I’d be grateful. With midnight-black hair unkempt and on the long side, an errant five-o’clock shadow and were those tattoos creeping up his neck?

“What the hell is that?” I asked, ignoring politeness and pointing an index finger at his neck.

He reached up and stroked his nape. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” I spat, approaching him to get a closer look. I peered up at the inked skin. “A scorpion. A fucking scorpion?” I shook my head at how I was turning into a cursing truck driver.

“I’m a Scorpio. Don’t believe in that shit but I got it done anyway.”

“Were they high?” I said, more to myself. “Why you? No one’s going to believe I’d be dating someone like you!”

He chuckled, his glittering green eyes veiled with menace. “Right backatcha.”

There was a knock at the door and Grace’s high-pitched voice came in. “Amor? I know you’re in here. Someone saw you,” she called, no doubt wondering if she should add ‘with a man’. “We’re about to cut the cake.”

“Great. My sister.” I shook my head, so close to hyperventilating. Ash seemed to sense this.

“Look, I’m good at what I do, okay? By the time the night is over, everyone will think you’ve fallen in love with someone else,” he said calmly, loosing his tie. “And call me Ashton.”

“Okay,” I squeaked.

“Now come here.”

I reluctantly obeyed him. “What are you –”

“Giving your sister a show,” Ashton interjected, unbuttoning the first two buttons of my blouse. “I take my job very seriously.” His fingertips lightly brushed the skin of my collarbone.

Despite myself, I felt a blush creep up my neck. “It’s not necessary.”

“It is to me.”

Unlocking the door, he pulled it open. I braced myself for Grace’s critical eyes. She didn’t disappoint.

“I thought Vic was in here.” She threw Ashton a disapproving look.

“Didn’t I tell you? Vic and I...we’re over,” I told her, relishing in her shocked face. Grace didn’t believe in splitting up; she and Milton had been together since the day he’d loaned her his special fountain pen for their finals in elementary school.

“Ashton West.” Ashton stuck a hand out to clasp my sister’s. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Um...right. I...I’ll just... Is that a scorpion?” Grace’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“Correct. You have very good vision,” Ashton replied. He turned to me. “Babe, your buttons are undone.”

My hand flew to my chest. “Right. Thanks. Shall we...? Grace, the cake?”

She shook her head, as if trying to shake away the image of my peeking lace bra. “Of course.” She bounded away.

I shot Ashton a glare. “Way to go. Babe? No one will believe this.”

“I’m great at long-term. In fact, I’m the best,” he said simply, his arm slinking around my waist. “You just need to chill and remember the story of how we fell in love.”

“Oh, this’ll be good. Do tell me how we fell in love.”

His hand ran down my hipbone. “I’m your new lawyer. It was love at first consultation.”

I snorted. “You? A lawyer?”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, Amor. I really was a lawyer.”

“And what? You decided male prostitution paid better?”

His brow furrowed and he released me. “I’m insulted.”

“I have no doubt that, despite the agency’s strict no-sex policy, you take a little extra for cunnilingus.”

He stared at me. “People still use that word?” he laughed. “It’s oral, woman. Oral.”

“Shut it, OK? I’m hyperventilating here,” I muttered. “I date men with class and you...you have no class.”

“According to your file, you don’t date at all. And jeez, Victor? I think you’re the only female out there who could possibly think of Victor in a romantic way,” he sneered.

“Victor’s stable. He’s normal. But you wouldn’t know any of that because you’re...this.” I waved a hand at him. “Besides, I wasn’t romantically involved with him. It was strictly business.”

“Right. Look, I’m starving, so shall we?” He held out an arm.

I grudgingly took it. “Just keep your mouth shut. Speak when spoken to and even then, keep your answers simple.”

“Sure, Mom.”

“I’m serious. This is my life,” I hissed, smiling at a passing couple I knew vaguely. Friends of Grace and her pouf husband.

“And this is my job.”

“Oh, and absolutely no talk about our imaginary sex life, okay?”

“Whatever.”

***

“She’s always made those mewing sounds,” my mother giggled, wiping tears from her eyes. “Even as a kid. I thought they were ’cos of nightmares, now I guess they were just sexy dreams.”

Ashton laughed, taking another swig of Red Bull. “Well, now she mews when she climaxes,” he said conspiratorially, just as my mother banged a fist on the table in yet another fit of laughter.

I was past shooting Ashton death-glares; past even trying to pry him out of the dining room. I was simply glad that my mother was the only one within earshot of his crassness. Most of the guests were entranced by the show Grace was putting on in one corner. She claimed her unborn child kicked her stomach every time someone used a bad word.

“Amor, you’ve gone and bagged yourself an Adonis,” Mum grinned, patting Ashton’s arm. “At least he’s in the land of the living, unlike that corpse-looking Vincent.”

“Victor,” I said through clenched teeth.

“That’s what I said.”

“Why thank you, Mrs. Page,” Ashton said brightly. “You’re quite the Venus, if you must know.”

Oh God, he’s flirting with her.

To my dismay, my sixty-five-year-old mother tittered like a pig-tailed schoolgirl. “Be still, my heart.”

“Ashton honey, could we talk in private?” I said, clearing my throat and sending the sweetest look I could possibly direct at his arrogant face.

“Ooh, private.” Mum.

“Sure, my luscious bundle of sexiness.” Ashton.

“Follow me.” It took all my strength not to slap him then and there.

Once we’d waded through the swarm of scavengers and headed into the study, I was beyond my boiling point.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, asshole?” I snapped, balling my hands into fists. I rarely resorted to violence but this man...this man had pushed buttons I didn’t know existed until tonight.

Before the cutting of the cake, he’d taken the liberty of squeezing my ass when I’d stood up to help Grace. Wolf-whistles had erupted. Once we had our slices, he thought it would be ‘a potent display of affection’ if he smeared icing across my lips and licked it up. Cue more wolf-whistles. Ashton had gone from grabbing ass to sucking my neck to declaring his love for me during dinner and finally, to explaining in great detail the noises I made when I came. There were questions about Victor’s sudden disappearance, of course. Victor had been in my life for over a year now and everyone had been hinting at marriage – which certainly wasn’t about to happen – so it was obviously a shock for them to see me parading a completely new man.

Slowly, my whole dignified persona was crumbling before my very eyes and in front of close family and friends, no less. I was becoming nothing more than a slut who jumped from man to man and didn’t give a damn what other people thought.

And I was positively explosive.

“I’m doing my job,” Ashton replied, reaching into his pockets again. I slapped his hand away.

“You’re not smoking again.”

“Says who? You?”

“Says the woman who’s paying you,” I said in a low voice, scowling at him.

He cocked his head, seeming to consider this, then shrugged. “You’ll pay me whether you like it or not, but I’m smoking.” His sentence was punctuated by him digging into his pockets.

“I can’t believe they sent me a smoker. I specifically –”

“I’m on the road to Quitter-ville.” The cigarette was in the corner of his mouth as he set it alight. “It’s naturally a long road.”

I sank to the ground, my back against one wall. “I can’t win,” I said to myself. “I have a great job, I’m a respected member of society, I go to church sometimes...but they sent me Ashton West. Why did they send me a menace? Why? Did I do something wrong? Did I?”

“Honestly, you’re too fucking uptight.” Ashton was staring down at me, a smile tugging at his lips. “Come on. Get up.”

“I think I’ll wallow.”

He sighed. “About the sex thing – you know, what I was telling your mother – I’m sorry. That was immature of me,” he said quietly. “I’m just beginning to get a kick out of making you mad. It’s too easy, though.”

“Just go. Please. Just go.”

He reluctantly squatted to my level. “You ever ask yourself why you don’t date?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

He gently flicked my chin. “One of the best love gurus in the city and you can’t get a date Saturday night. There’s a huge problem here.”

“Get out of my face,” I muttered, not even bothering to swat him away.

“You know, I was thinking to myself...Amor Page? Dr. Amor Page, relationship guru, hires guys to date her? The Amor Page?” He shook his head as if he’d just seen a car accident. “What is this world coming to?”

“Ashton, I’m warning you,” I advised through clenched teeth.

He got to his feet, pacing the room. “And then, once I met you, everything fell into place. You’re a cold, emotionless bitch who, ironically, has no capacity for building relationships.”

I jumped up, hand on my hip. “What did you just say?”

He took a deep drag on the cigarette. “I believe this is where I ask if I stuttered?”

“Why don’t you go to hell and fuck yourself?” I exploded. But that wasn’t enough. “And after that, stroke your dick with a cactus. And then suck a porcupine. And when you’re done, jerk off a snake. And then kill yourself.” I was out of breath when I was done with my childish outburst but when Ashton’s face lit up like Christmas, that was the final straw. “It’s over,” I snapped.

“What’s over? Your little speech?”

“This relationship.”

“But we never had a relationship,” he replied with a grin, stubbing the butt in the palm of his hand. He winced. “I love that pain.”

“You’re sick.”

“That’s a strong possibility. I have been feeling slightly feverish with all this scorching hatred you’re sending my way.” A smile spread across his face. “You need to chill out, Amor. Isn’t that what you preach on the radio?”

“See yourself out,” I mumbled, waving a flippant hand.

“Sure thing. Babe.”

The ‘babe’ was definitely just to infuriate me. And it did.