Dare to Lie Read online

  “Not this time, sir.” I half laughed, half groaned. “But wouldn’t I be more valuable in the office, with you, plotting our next move?”

  He stared at me, his blue eyes cold. “No. I want you with her.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said through my clenched teeth. “Anything you need, I’m your man.”

  “Good.” Tate smoothed his tie over his chest. “When you’re done paying your respects to Gus, you can go. The auction starts at six, at the Lower Boston Country Club.”

  I stared at him. “Seriously?”

  “Dead.” He shrugged. “We’re members there. The best way to blend into society is to pretend to be one of them, right? I also have a condo nearby, in the gated complex on the golf course.”

  We all knew about that apartment. Tate said it was a front, that he used it to launder money out of the watchful eye of the feds. All the guys joked it was his bachelor pad, where he took chicks he scored for a night of fun, before ditching them to return to his place in Steel Row. But now, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was more. Maybe his sister also lived in that community, and every time we assumed he was banging some chick in his fancy place, he was, in reality, going to see her. “Wow. I never pegged you as the country club type, sir.”

  “It’s just for Skylar. I never go,” he said, even though I knew for a fact that he played golf there every Saturday at eight A.M.

  “Right.” I grinned. “Of course not.”

  “Like I said. No one knows she exists. I’m telling you because I think I can trust you to keep my secret.” He gave me a hard look, and I knew if I showed the slightest sign of proving him wrong, I’d be done for. No big shocker there. “You’re good at that, aren’t you? At keeping secrets?”

  I forced a laugh. “Uh . . . yeah. I can be, when the situation warrants it.”

  “I figured,” Tate said dryly. “This one does.”

  I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Wear that suit, and be charming. Call yourself Scotty, instead of Scott. It sounds more innocent and college-student-like. Remember: You intern at my company and go to grad school at Boston . . . University,” he said slowly, eyeing my outfit. “No leather coat.”

  “Not Boston College?”

  “No.” He shot me a look out of the corner of his eye. “She goes there, so it will invite too many questions.”

  “Okay.” I lifted a shoulder. “What’s my major?”

  “Marketing.”

  Nodding, I tapped my fingers on my thigh. “Got it, sir.”

  The car stopped at the funeral home, and I reached for the knob. As I grasped it, he grabbed my arm hard, stopping me. “And Donahue?”

  “Yeah?” I asked hesitantly.

  “This goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway, just to be perfectly fucking clear on the matter. Touch Skylar . . .” He dug his fingers into my bicep. “. . . and I’ll cut you into pieces and feed you to my saltwater fish for dinner. Understood?”

  Touch Tate Daniels’s sister?

  I’d sooner eat uncooked liver.

  “Completely.”

  CHAPTER 2

  SKYLAR

  I pushed past the matronly ladies whispering in the corner of the room, gossiping worse than any sorority girl would ever dare, while ignoring my aching feet, thanks to the bright red high heels I never should have worn. I was more of a flats kind of girl, but this was my first big charity event, and I’d wanted to look more mature. I’d wanted to look the part.

  I should have stuck to flats.

  Half the reason I decided to aim for med school was because I could wear scrubs and Crocs all day. The other half was because I wanted to help people. I’d never confess which half I considered more important, but, just a hint, I was tossing these heels the second I got home.

  The men who were being auctioned off were all either getting drunk, or late—like my brother, Tate, who I was going to kill—and the matrons that would be bidding weren’t much better. The dry martinis were flowing, the voices were getting louder, and this whole thing was going to be a gigantic disaster of the worst kind.

  I should have stuck to books and Netflix.

  But even though I was sure this would be an epic fail . . . I had to admit it looked pretty freaking nice for a disaster. I was at the country club my brother and I belonged to, and the whole dining hall had been transformed into a soft oasis of romantic lighting. Black tablecloths covered round tables, with pink cloth centerpieces topped with crystal candleholders and small tea light candles on top. A soft orchestra played in the background and the room was filled to the brim with people.

  Not so bad for my first charity gala.

  All I needed was for my brother to show up.

  Then we could get this show on the road.

  He hated these things, but in my opinion, it was a way of putting a bit of good energy back into the world—something he could use a little help with, if you asked me. I smoothed my short black Chanel dress over my stomach nervously, swallowing hard, and tucked my hair behind my ear. I’d curled it gently with a curling iron, and I’d gone for soft red lipstick to match my shoes. It had been a bold choice, but I was going out of my comfort zone already with the heels, so what the heck.

  Go big or go home, right?

  That’s what I kept telling myself, anyway.

  My phone buzzed and I glanced down. It was a text from my friend Marco. He was supposed to be here tonight, too, but he’d backed out at the last minute. He was a few years younger than me, and only a sophomore, but we’d hit it off immediately upon meeting in a study group when he’d been a freshman. We had a lot in common.

  Sorry again. Got held up in lab.

  Yeah, sure you did.

  A pause, and then:

  Buy you a coffee tomorrow to make up for it?

  Or two. Lots of tests this week.

  Deal.

  Smiling, I glanced up as I rounded the corner. I turned at the last second because I spotted Mallory, a fellow med student and my co-chair of this event. “Find a manager and ask for more waiters. We’re dying out here, and it would be best to keep the guests distracted with drinks or appetizers. We need to get things moving,” I said.

  Mallory flipped her brown hair over her shoulder, and gave a thumbs-up, grinning. Maybe I should have told Marco she would be here. Then he would have shown up. He had a thing for her. “I’m on it!”

  Shaking my head, I barreled around the corner—and right into someone. The man—I assumed it was a man from his height and the fact he was made of pure muscle—sent me off balance, and I flew back with a soft oof. I braced myself, sure I was going to hit the ground hard, but at the last second, he pulled me into his arms. I ended up securely nestled against a muscular chest, and that was somehow strangely comforting.

  I sucked in a deep breath because even though I hadn’t looked at him yet . . .

  Something about him brought me to life.

  I didn’t know how to explain it, but it was like the second he touched me, he brought out this long-dormant part of myself I hadn’t known was asleep. Slowly, almost hesitantly, I lifted my face to his. “I’m so . . .” I trailed off. The second our gazes met, that feeling—that instinctive reaction to a man I didn’t know—wormed its way further into my body. “. . . sorry.”

  He gazed down at me, stealing my breath. His eyes were a soft moss green, and he had red hair. His jawline was hard, and he had a slight dimple in his cheek, but not an actual dimple—which made no sense, but somehow did. My heart picked up speed, and I gripped his suit jacket, hanging on for dear life, because, God, I had to.

  His lips were parted as he stared down at me in surprise, as if he hadn’t meant to catch me, but now that he had, he wasn’t sure what to do with me.

  He was, hands down, the most handsome man I’d ever met.

  I immediately wanted—no, needed—to
know more about him.

  His gaze dipped down to my mouth then shot back up, and his brow furrowed. His grip at the small of my back shifted, and he bunched my dress in between his fingers. He held me in his arms like we’d been dancing and he was preparing to dip me. I ached for him to pull me more firmly into his arms, which was crazy, because I didn’t even know the guy.

  I’ve always been good at reading people. My older brother, Tate, always teased me that I should join the CIA and be an undercover agent, because within minutes of meeting someone, I generally knew their whole life story, without them saying a word. And this man had lonely, lost soul written all over his face. Like he’d seen too much and was trying to make the world a better place. Like his only desire was to leave a mark on the world, a good one, to make up for all the bad out there. In fact . . .

  He reminded me of myself.

  “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his harsh Southie accent as clear as day.

  Funny, he didn’t look like your typical Southie guy.

  “Y-Yes,” I answered, forcing a smile even though this guy had thrown me more off balance than I’d been in my whole life. “Thank you, Mister . . . ?”

  “Donahue. Scotty Donahue.” He pulled me back to my feet, only letting me go once I was steady. His hands lingered on my waist, as if he didn’t want to stop touching me—or was that my imagination? He shot me a slow, seductive grin that did something to me. “And you are?”

  “Skylar Daniels,” I said quickly. “I’m in charge of this event.”

  Something crossed his expression, and he stepped back, his nostrils flaring. The grin faded immediately, and I saw him retreat, both physically and mentally, the second he heard my name. “You’re Skylar?”

  “Yes . . .” I bit down on my lip, because the way he said those two words, the hardness behind them, made me feel like my identity didn’t come as welcome information. Was he one of those guys, who thought the Danielses were beneath him? “Do I know you?”

  “No,” he said, pressing his lips into a thin line. “But I know your brother, Tate.”

  Oh. Oh. Of course.

  Tate was always waving all these snobby, stuffy, bland Wall Street men in front of me, men who talked about nothing but stocks and money, in the hopes I’d pick one and marry a guy exactly like him. Problem was . . . I didn’t like any of them. I was far too busy studying to waste time on a guy who would, more likely than not, end up being a complete bore, in bed and out of it. Chances were, this man would be exactly like the rest.

  What a disappointment.

  “Whatever he told you about me is a lie,” I said, glancing at him through my lashes, trying to lighten him up a bit. He looked as if he’d swallowed a box of nails. Even with me in heels, he was a good six inches taller than me. “I’m not nearly as much of a spoiled brat as he made me out to be.”

  “Actually, he hasn’t said much about you at all,” he said slowly, glancing down my body before slamming his gaze back into mine. My legs trembled, my pulse raced, and the breath left my chest. I’d been checked out in a lot of ways, by a lot of guys, but none of them had ever made me feel all shaky and uneven inside like he did . . . or as uncertain. “I guess I can see why, now that I’ve met you.”

  My cheeks heated at the—maybe?—compliment. Something told me he could charm any woman he wanted, but with me, it seemed like he was holding himself back. “Are you here to watch him be sold to one of the vultures behind me?”

  “Not exactly.” He tugged at his tie, offering me a sheepish smile, glancing at the women I referred to. “I’m here to be sold off in his place, all in the name of charity.”

  My stomach twisted in knots. He was going to be on that stage . . . looking hot as hell . . . and go on a date with the lucky winner? Something slammed into me, something I didn’t recognize, but the thought of him going out with one of them?

  Yeah, it sat about as badly in my stomach as expired sushi.

  “Oh.”

  “He sends his regrets,” he added, seeming to think my short reply was due to my brother’s absence. While I was upset Tate had blown me off and sent someone else in his place, that wasn’t what had me all worked up. It was him. Scotty Donahue. “I’ll do my best to fill his shoes, being tonight’s man-candy.”

  “I’m sure,” I said, smiling tightly, because Scotty more than fit the part. That was the problem. “How do you know him?”

  “I’m an intern at his office.” He rocked back on his heels and shot me a sexy grin while looking at me like I was the only woman on the Earth. God, did he even know how hot he was when he looked at a girl like that? Who was I kidding? Of course he knew. “But he asked me to take his place, and to let you know that he was sorry for missing tonight. To ease the sting of his absence, I’m here to offer any services you might need.”

  Any services. I couldn’t tell if he was flirting with me or not, which was weird. It was almost as if he wanted to, but was holding back, and as a result, he was sending mixed signals I couldn’t decipher. And, God help me, I could think of a few services I wouldn’t mind him giving me. “Well, thank you for coming. I appreciate it.”

  “Of course.” He bowed slightly, keeping his gaze locked with mine. “Anything to help a beautiful woman in distress.”

  A nervous laugh escaped me, and I pressed a hand to my stomach. He followed the motion, his brow furrowing. “Are you actually flirting with me?”

  He cocked a brow at my question, looking way too handsome for his own good. “And if I am?”

  “Then it’s fine. It’s just . . . Tate’s always throwing all these fancy suit guys at me,” I said, waving a hand toward his suit, which made him frown. “Guys like you. He’s always trying to get me to date one of you, so I can never tell if—”

  He held a hand up, the charming smile slipping away like it never existed in the first place. “I’m here because my boss asked me to come.” He pointed at the older women in the corner, his south Boston accent thickening with each angry word. “And to raise some money for whatever charity you’ve got going here. That’s it. No matter what he’s done in the past, I’m not some boy toy sent to you for your pleasure. I don’t play that way.”

  My cheeks got even hotter, embarrassment scorching through my blood. “I didn’t mean to insinuate—”

  “Ah, but you kind of did, sugar.”

  Anger warred with embarrassment, and I stiffened. Where did he get off lecturing me like I was some errant child and he was my father? Screw him. He’d been flirting with me, so if I’d gotten the wrong message, then it was as much his fault as it was mine. “Sugar? Did you seriously just call me sugar?”

  “Yeah. Sugar.” He looked me up and down, his nostrils flaring slightly. “The way I see it, something as sweet as you has gotta be made of pure sugar. But there’s only one way to find out for sure.” He stared at my lips, his meaning all too clear. “Too bad I’ve got no intentions of doing so.”

  Sucking in a deep breath, I stared at him.

  He stared right back.

  There was no way Tate sent this man to me hoping I’d hook up with him. He was too real. Too raw. Too cocky. Too . . . dangerous. Yes, that’s what was humming under the surface of this animalistic attraction I felt for him. Danger.

  And while that should scare me away, it did the opposite.

  It made me want to know even more.

  I saw through his transparent asshole act, right down to his core. He was more than he put out there, no matter how many times he called me sugar. My sixth sense had kicked in, and I saw him for what he was. And I was never wrong. I got the feeling that he’d hidden behind a lie for so long, he’d lost track of himself, and that he was trying to fix that, one small step at a time. What had he done that was so wrong, it haunted his eyes like a lost memory? I was dying to know. “You’re staring,” he pointed out.

  “So are you,” I replied quickly.
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  “Only ’cause I don’t like to lose.” He smirked. “And we’re clearly having some sort of competition.”

  He thought he could scare me off with a staring contest?

  Please.

  I had an older brother. I knew how to handle men like Scotty Donahue.

  “Good to know,” I said softly, forcing a smile. “I don’t like to lose either.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mallory flagging me down.

  Apparently, so did he.

  “Unfortunately, it looks like duty calls,” he said, his tone flat, that indifferent asshole act slipping into place like a well-worn mask. “Run along, sugar. It was nice meeting you.”

  Digging my nails into my palms, I continued the battle we were waging, knowing if I backed down I would lose more than a staring contest. I cocked a brow at him, mimicking his own stance. “I’ll run along when I’m good and ready, thank you very much. The bachelors are supposed to line up at the bar.”

  A soft laugh escaped him before he cut it off with a shake of his head and broke eye contact. Looked like I’d won. Satisfaction hit me, and it was exhilarating. “Maybe you take after your brother after all.”

  “You have no idea.” I gave him what I hoped was a smirk matching his, because no matter how much he tried to act like he was an asshole, it wouldn’t work. His act only made me want to learn what he hid behind that cocky smirk, and I knew the perfect way to do so. “It was nice meeting you, Scotty. We’ll be talking again, real soon, I’m sure.”

  With that, I flounced off, my heart racing, and my blood pumping, and every single nerve within me focused on him. The man I shouldn’t want . . .