Mistakes are always forgivable, if one has the courage to admit them.
Bruce Lee
JENNIE
It turns out living with Lisa is easier than I previously thought it would be. After we learned that I'm the target, we both agreed that a lockdown is the safest route.
Unfortunately, there have also been whisperings of the vote being moved up, so Lisa had to act. She ended up starting a new line of hotels at Black Enterprises. Because she's the resident expert in real estate law and has the most connections, this is the best move. It's making her invaluable to the company, so they had to push the vote back until the beginning of the next business quarter.
But scouting locations for new hotels also means she has been traveling a lot lately, so she's rarely home. But when she is here, she's easier to be around than I initially expected. We have a nice roommate thing going on here, where we leave each other alone until bedtime comes.
Since I let her sleep on the bed after my nightmare, she hasn't moved back to the floor. And I'm not about to ask her to. After doing it a lot, sleeping with her isn't awkward anymore. I actually like it. I don't dwell on it, but I enjoy her touch at night and even miss it when she's gone.
Sometimes, I'll cook when she's in town, and we'll eat together. But she mostly works when she's in New York, so our contact is at a minimal, typically limited to nights in the bedroom, where she'll cuddle me to stop my fidgeting. At times, I toss and turn just so she'll touch me. I'm playing a dangerous game, but I crave her touch, and with all the time we spend apart, I'll take what I can get.
In fact, I'm starting to wonder how our lack of time spent together is looking to the public and the people we're supposed to be selling this relationship to. We've only been photographed together three times, and we weren't even technically in one of the photographs.
The first time was when we left Carmen's Cantina together. It's the only normal picture of us. We're holding hands, and I'm smiling up at her with a goofy smile on my face. Last week, I caught a glimpse of Lisa's phone and saw it as the wallpaper for the home and lock screen.
She must hate me. I swear. That's the only reason she'd set a picture of me looking like a stupid sap as her background. I have to give her credit, though. She's really selling this whole fiancé thing.
The second time we were photographed together was a totally un-embarrassing picture of me sitting in Lisa's lap after the first shooting. In it, there are ugly tears streaming down my face, and Lisa looks like she's about to commit first, second, third, fourth and fifth degree murder.
Fifth degree murder is when you make eye contact with Lisa while she has an angry glare on her face, and you're stunned to death by her hotness. It's like getting petrified when making eye contact with the Basilisk in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, only Lisa is gorgeous and came from a vagina rather than a chicken egg hatched under a toad. (Yes, we all know what you did, Herpo the Foul.)
The third picture is of Caroline aka Fake Jennie on the ground, a hand over her stomach, while Damien aka Fake Lisa holds her hand while they wait for an ambulance to come. Someone is stepping on Fake Me's hair, and Fake Lisa looks like she's having a blast. It's an odd picture, and I hope no one ever asks us to explain it.
But as far as the media and everyone else is concerned, Caroline/I survived because she/I was wearing a bulletproof vest under my dress—not bulletproof clothes. I still don't know why Lisa is so hush hush about the bulletproof clothes.
The craziest part is that picture has been spread all over social media, and people still think it's us. When I found out that we'd gone viral, I just about had a heart attack, wondering if Steve has seen it. But that old goat would have to learn how to use the internet first, and that'll never happen…
Right?
I'm in the living room with Eduardo, my so called tutor of all things WASP related, when Lisa descends the staircase with a suitcase in one hand and a book in the other. I tilt my head a little to read the title.
Sleeping Beauty in the 21st Century: A Modern Retelling.
I snort, causing her to narrow her eyes at me. I back up slowly when she approaches me. The books I'm balancing on my head wobble dangerously.
Eduardo is teaching me to walk properly in heels, which apparently involves using my cranium as his personal bookshelf. Two of the books are thesauruses, which is ironic, considering the only words Eduardo seems to know these days are "Damn it, Jennie!" and "Straighten your spine!"
"Damn it, Jennie!" Eduardo chastises me. "Straighten your spine!"
See what I mean?
I huff out an irritated breath, my wary eyes still focused on Lisa as she stalks my way with a rare mischievous look on her face. Over the course of our many months living together, I've come to learn that Lisa can be impishly playful when it's just us.
So, I'm justifiably wary when she advances on me, even though I know she won't do anything too ridiculous with Eduardo watching.
"Yeah, Jennie. Straighten your spine," Lisa mocks.
And then the fucker puts her heavy hardcover book on my head and heads toward the door.
I teeter in odd little circles, trying to prevent the books from toppling over. This is my longest record thus far, and Lisa is about to ruin it.
Because I can't help myself, I shout, "Lisa!" I'm satisfied when she pauses at the door, her back still to me. "Are you sure you don't want your book back?" I smirk devilishly. "Don't you want to find out if 21st Century Sleeping Beauty wakes up?"
And of course, that's when the books have to topple over, finishing my comeback in classic Jennie fashion. I swear I hear her laughing when she exits into the hallway.
And because I'm a doomed sap, the melodious sound soars straight to my heart and sends a secret smile to my face.
An hour before noon, Eduardo heads home, leaving me with a massive headache, neck ache and foot ache. I hate days when I have to balance books on my head with sky high heels on, but even I have to admit that I'm a pro in heels now, able to walk in them better than most runway models.
Eduardo was appalled when we first met a month or so ago, not even hesitating to inform me that most of his five year old clients are more talented in walking and table etiquette than I am. After thrice weekly lessons in rich people expectations, I like to think I'm now his star pupil. He'll never admit it, but I know he likes me… so long as my spine is straight.
Rosé walks in just as I'm about to head upstairs for a much needed, soothing bath. Unfortunately, she hasn't quit. And she still has a nasty habit of walking in here without knocking like she owns the place. I have no idea how Lisa can tolerate it, but other than our conversation a long time ago about how it's not a good idea to fire her yet, I still haven't heard her comment on it.
"Get ready. You'll be leaving with Lisa in an hour for a charity event," she says before heading to the door without a goodbye.
I frown. Lisa left with a suitcase a few hours ago. She's supposed to be on a plane to Dubai. Over the past month, Lisa has traveled to Los Angeles, Hong Kong, London, the Bahamas and, now, Dubai. Well, I guess not, since we're headed to a charity event.
"Wait!" I shout as Rosé's hand connects with the doorknob.
She pauses, but she doesn't turn around, causing me to wonder if she picked that up from Lisa.
I frown at her back. "What's the charity event?"
"A polo match," she says tritely.
Then, she's gone, much to my delight. I still don't like her, mostly because she's always so rude to me. I'd like to say that I usually go the high road around her, but I'm usually rude right back to her. I can't help it.
It's like watching Here Comes Honey Boo Boo. I know it's ridiculous, but I can't help but pay attention when it's on, just like I can't help but give Rosé a taste of her own medicine when she's around. I'm playing with fire with someone who has the ability to light a match on my cushy new life, but I lack the willpower to stop myself.
And this new life of mine definitely is cushy.
I absolutely love it here.
I learned quickly that Lisa has to be very hands on with the real estate division of her company, which is why she's always traveling and meeting with foreign dignitaries and real estate moguls. Her interest in real estate makes sense, since she followed through on her word and magically got me out of my ironclad leasing contract.
I even got a full refund, which miraculously included money back for the month that I actually had lived in Vaserley Hall. I didn't think she could do it, because my housing was paid by my financial aid package and my lease had a nonrefundable clause, but she did the impossible. I have twenty-three thousand dollars in financial aid money sitting pretty in my bank account to attest to that.
That money means I don't have to work at the coffee shop, where Krystal and her friends always hang out, ever again, so I quit permanently. Before the check, I was just on unpaid leave, but now I'm never going back. And I'm one thousand percent okay with that. The life of unemployment means I have a lot more time to enjoy my youth, time even my coursework, which I still do at home, doesn't fill up.
It turns out I don't have to worry about being bored, because Doyeon, Jimin and Eduardo come over all the time. Mino has even become a friend of mine. Now, I have four whole friends! That's more than I've had in a long time.
So, I'm pretty proud of myself.
As I stand in the closet, I consider consulting Jimin for clothing help, but I don't want to bother him on a weekend. If I ask Doyeon, she'll just tell me to wear the tightest, shortest dress I can find.
Doyeon and I still meet up a few times a week, mostly at the penthouse, and whenever she sees me, she'll squeal over my outfit and ask me why I'm not dressing to seduce Lisa. I usually ignore her, because while Lisa is insanely attractive and I often wonder what it would be like to go all the way with her, I don't want to ruin the tentative friendship we have going on—yes, we're actually friends.
I think.
Sort of.
So, maybe that means I have four and a half friends?
I shower, blow dry my hair, and put on makeup, keeping it light. Thanks to Eduardo's lessons, I know that polo is mostly played in an indoor arena during the New York winters, even during the tail end of winter.
So, I pick out a white fitted dress and a fashionable light grey coat to wear over it. I add a pink statement necklace and nude Louboutins to the outfit. Stepping back, I look at my reflection in the mirror. Jimin and Eduardo would be proud.
And then I wait, realizing I still have another fifteen minutes before I have to leave. I pull out the binder with the questionnaires from months ago, anxious about what I might have to know about Lisa for tonight. I have all my flashcards memorized by now, but I'm still nervous.
After all, this will be the first time in a long time that we've gone out together. On top of that, it's the first time we'll be in front of her coworkers after we announced our engagement… which is starting to be less and less believable with each passing day.
I skim through the binder, everything looking familiar until I encounter a bump in one of the binder's pockets. I didn't notice it before, but now, there are lines indented into the binder material from being stretched by the folded piece of paper for a long duration of time.
I take it out and read through it. It's an activity worksheet for getting fake couples used to intimacy in public. My best guess is Rosé folded the paper up and hid it here before she gave us the binders. She clearly doesn't want us touching, let alone kissing like this activity suggests.
I'm still staring at the paper when Lisa comes in.
"What's that?" she asks.
I study her. She's already dressed for the match in fitted white dress pants, a white dress shirt and a tailored, navy blue sports blazer. There's a white pocket square sticking out of the coat pocket. The casual polo outfit is at odds with the tenseness of her face.
I put the paper down on the bed and cautiously approach her. "What's wrong?"
She hesitates, as if debating whether or not she wants to tell me, before she says, "I'm pissed."
I can't help but smile. "I can see that. What are you pissed off about?"
"I was on the jet headed to Dubai when I got a call from Rosé, informing me that Black Enterprises bought a tent at the charity match today."
"Okay…" I say, not seeing what is wrong with that.
Charity's a good thing, right?
Lisa's company is pretty well-known for donating to a lot of causes. Before I met her, I thought it was just PR to distract from her reputation as a mobster, but now I know that she does it because of the way she was raised. She told me one night that Vincent's generosity helped her escape a grim life, and she hopes she can do the same for someone else. I have never been more attracted to her than I was that night.
"I had to reroute the flight, wasting my time, the pilot's time, the flight crew's time and a lot of fuel. We had to drop the fuel into the ocean." At my sharp look, she says, "It's standard operating procedure. The fuel evaporates before it hits the ocean. No sea life is harmed in the process, Steve-O. Don't go climbing any cranes now."
I roll my eyes at her reference to Steve-O's SeaWorld protest. "So you're this mad about wasting time and fuel?"
I know her well enough to know there's more to it. It takes a lot for her to show her anger.
She exhales. "No, I'm mad because I depend on my staff, on Rosé, to keep an eye on things that I don't have the time to do myself. That includes knowing well in advance when Jiyong goes behind my back, buys a tent at a charity event, and invites everyone on the board except me."
Oh.
She's mad that Jiyong might have gotten an opportunity to further his anti-Lisa agenda, and Rosé almost missed it. But that doesn't seem like it's all of it either. She already expects Jiyong to do something like this…
But Rosé?
She wouldn't hire her if she isn't good at her job. Her slip up must have taken her by surprise. It's no wonder she was so angry earlier when she informed me about the event.
I study her, looking for a reaction. "That's not all, is it?"
She looks startled by my keen observation.
I blaze forward, "You're not mad about Jiyong. You're mad about Rosé. You're mad that she let you down, but you're also mad that you have to depend on someone else."
Her face hardens.
Bingo.
I hit the jackpot… and won her ire.
But I don't want her mad at me.
As much as it pains me to admit, Lisa actually turned out to be a decent person, maybe even a good person. Definitely a better person than I am. And I maybe sorta don't hate her guts and like her more than I should… as a friend, of course.
I don't want Lisa to be unhappy, let alone mad at me.
So, I step closer to her and soften my voice, "450 people."
She gives me a confused look. "450 people?"
"That's how many people it takes to maintain the White House." I push her gently until she's sitting down on the bed.
We're eye level now, and she lets me step between her legs. This is the closest I've been to her in a while. At least with the lights on.
I take a moment to relish in the proximity before I continue, "It takes 450 people to run one household. You're only one person. As much as it sucks, you can't expect yourself to know everything that goes on in a company that does business in over seventy countries. Let yourself depend on others, even when someone disappoints you." I pause for a second, scrunch my nose, and add, "Except Rosé. You can fire her. You're right. She sucks."
That's my honest opinion.
My heart fills up when she throws her head back and laughs.
She startles me when her hands go to the back of my bare thighs, lifting the hem of my dress a little with the tips of her long fingers. "I never said she sucks." She chuckles again. "There's no love lost between the two of you, is there?"
I shake my head. I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from petulantly saying, "She started it!" It's true, but it's also something expected of a five year old child not a twenty year old woman.
Her eyes turn serious again. "Thank you."
The way she thanks me is so honest, so gentle and so genuine. I forget myself for a moment, leaning into her a little further. I want to kiss her, to feel her thanks whispered against my lips. But she backs away and eyes the paper I left on the bed.
"What's that?" she asks, nodding towards it.
There's no point in lying. If we're going to have our first real public appearance together, not including the school event, I need to be prepared for the inevitability of a kiss on the lips. From what I remember, it's something that'll dazzle me, no matter how often she does it. I have to be ready for it to happen, so I don't make a fool of us both and do something like orgasm in public from a kiss.
I reach over and hand the paper to her. Giving her a pointed look that I hope portrays my suspicions about Rosé, I say, "I found it folded up and hidden in our questionnaire binders." I deadpan, "I wonder how that happened…"
She takes the activity sheet from me. "Hmm…" she says, ignoring my last comment as she reads it. "I think we should do it before we leave."
I nod. I expected as much. We'll probably have to kiss at least once at the match, and if we have our second kiss in public, my reaction will definitely give this charade away.
I take the paper from her and read aloud, "Step one. Hold hands until the both of you are comfortable enough to move on."
Lisa sends me a mischievous grin as she grabs my hand and yanks me into a hug, which is step two.
"Step three," she reads before tearing up the paper and leaning forward to kiss me.
Her lips are light against mine, a teasing touch that drives me crazy. It feels unreal, almost virginal, to be kissed again after so long, especially by her. A part of me considers that I'm imagining the whole thing.
But then she presses another closed mouthed kiss onto my lips, harder this time, and I open my mouth in response. She groans into it, causing my cheeks to flush, and slides her tongue into my mouth, brushing it against mine. I grab two fistfuls of her shirt, pushing myself closer to her until there is no more space between us.
With both of her hands, she grips my ass, triggering a moan that escapes my mouth and hurdles into her. When she scoots further back on the bed, I follow her, placing both legs on either side of her thighs until I'm straddling her. One of her hands tugs my hair as she deepens the kiss. I respond enthusiastically, grinding my lower half against her stiff erection and savoring the taste of her tongue against mine.
I distantly hear footsteps approaching, but I don't care. It's not until someone clears their throat that I stop. I don't have to look to know it's Rosé. That woman has a cock blocking radar.
I groan softly and hide my face in Lisa's chest. I feel her chest vibrate against me as she gives me a light chuckle. Both of her hands are still on my ass, and my entire body is still pressed against her, making it difficult to concentrate.
"You'll have to leave now if you want to make it before the match starts," Rosé says, her voice tight and full of thinly veiled disapproval.
"Thanks, Rosé. That'll be all." Lisa pauses, and I hear the sound of her heels retreating. "And Rosé? Knock next time, please."
"Of course, Ms. Manoban." She doesn't sound sincere.
The door slams shut, louder than necessary. My face is still buried in Lisa's chest when she tips my chin back to examine me. There's laughter in her eyes.
"I think we aced this assignment."
I roll my eyes at her words and push off of her. When I spare a glance at the mirror, I see how disheveled I look. I try to fix myself up, but it's a hopeless cause. So much for making Eduardo and Jimin proud.
I'm finger combing my hair when Lisa grabs my hands and says, "Stop." Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, while her free hand trails down the side of my body, ending at my waist. "You look beautiful."
Given the way she's looking at me, I believe her. This isn't the first time since dancing with her that I've had to remind myself that we aren't actually together. This time, I'm reminding myself that the kiss was just an exercise.
It isn't real.
It isn't real.
It isn't real.
I repeat this mantra until the frenzied storm inside me finally settles.
Lisa keeps holding my hand, even though we're alone. Hand in hand, we descend the stairwell and enter the elevator. She presses "G" for garage. I learned a while ago that all the cars in Lisa's private garage are hers and her staff's. The rest of the building's tenants have to use the main garage and the elevators in the lobby, which I still have yet to step foot in.
I slide into one of the town cars with Lisa entering behind me. Mino takes the passenger seat next to the driver, one of the guards from Lisa's personal detail. I've seen him around a lot. I think his name is maybe Dominic, but I wouldn't know. I haven't been introduced to him, and other than Mino, the guards don't talk often. I haven't even talked to my night guard yet.
"How was your quantum mechanics test?"
I'm staggered by her knowledge of it. I didn't tell her I had one. My eyes narrow in suspicion. "I think I aced it."
She takes in my look and grins. "I may be getting updates on you."
My eyes shoot to Mino, the accusation obvious. Mino has been around for all of my proctored tests.
Mino shrugs. "She's the one paying the bills."
I groan at his lack of loyalty—or abundance of loyalty, if you look at it from Lisa's perspective. "What is he telling you?
Lisa laughs. "Nothing bad. I promise." A crooked grin graces her lips, which are still red from our kisses. "Though you should probably start studying for quantum mechanics. You take a long time finishing those tests."
"An A is an A—no matter how long it takes." I take an emergency Starburst out of my clutch and throw it at Mino's head. When it smacks him in the ear, I mutter, "Serves you right, traitor."
But I'm smiling, because Lisa cares enough to check on my schoolwork.