The Perfect Guy: A Romance Novel Read online

  “Awesome! Then you can sit here and talk with me.” She patted the spot next to her, and I instantly threw myself down against the plushy cushions. “Is your family coming next week?”

  I frowned and gazed at her questioningly. “Why would they come here?”

  Her eyes widened. “Everyone’s families are coming. It’s Christmas next week.”

  I turned my head away from her and thought about it. I knew that the holidays were approaching—the weather outside had been a good indication of that—but it had never been mentioned in my conversations with Dad that he would come here. I had actually completely forgotten about Christmas, but now I felt guilty because I hadn’t bought any gifts for Dad or Becca. Mom could just forget getting one this year.

  “No, I don’t think so. We haven’t talked about it anyway.”

  I refused to look at Jessica again because I knew she would look at me with pity. Yes, I missed Dad and Becca, but the others I could be without. As long as I got to talk to my best friend and Dad on Christmas Day, I would be happy.

  “You can be a part of my family during the dinner, then,” Jessica said, and I really appreciated her kindness.

  “Thank you, Jessica.”

  I think her compassion was what crumbled me, because I started crying and couldn’t stop. Every emotion just crashed in me. My longing for those back home, my anger and attraction for the man that was my “boyfriend,” my hatred for my mom who put me here in the first place, and my appreciation for the friends I’d made at this place. It became too much.

  “Oh, Jenn!” Jessica exclaimed and scooted closer to me so that she could place her arms around me. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” she soothed and stroked my back. It did not feel as if she was the younger one of us in that moment and it felt so good.

  I was starving for this connection since Becca was the only one I’d ever felt comfortable crying in front of, and she always took care of me like Jessica did now.

  I promised myself in that moment that I would not lose contact with Jessica when this whole mess was over with.

  CHAPTER 17

  THE CHRISTMAS PARTY

  I took the last bobby pin from between my teeth and inserted it into my updo and then made a final check in the mirror on the wall.

  I was quite pleased with my look for the night. I was wearing a knee-length, backless, black dress and my hair was up in a French twist—simple and yet elegant with a touch of sexy. Why I'd thrown the sexy in there, I had no idea. Maybe it was to torture James, but I wasn't sure.

  There would be other men there as well—brothers to both volunteers and students, and you would never know if someone certain caught your eye.

  Basically, I wanted to look as good as possible in the eyes of anyone, I guess.

  I took a few deep breaths, hoping that the oxygen would clear my head and miraculously give me super powers that would help me through the night.

  I hadn't uttered a single word to James during the week that had passed since we talked. I still had to pair up with him in classes, but I never talked. I refused to look at him because it didn't matter how cliché it sounded, but looking at that man would crumble me.

  I liked to see myself as a strong person, an individual with her own mind and opinion, but that man did something to me that was impossible to explain. His presence called to me, and the truth that had been given to me about his real nature hurt me more than when Mother had sent me here.

  I had tried to suck my feelings for him back inside after the failure that was our talk so that I could lock them in and hopefully forget about them once this program was over, but the complete mess I'd been for the last seven days had proven to me that it was impossible.

  It wasn't possible for me to forget James.

  After grabbing my see-through shawl, I walked through the empty suite—Leah and Jessica were already downstairs with their families—and was just reaching for the handle when there was a knock on the door.

  I retracted my hand and stared at the door as if it would burst into flames.

  I didn't know who it was, but I had my suspicions.

  When I opened the door, though, I found that they were incorrect. The man outside was not the man I never knew if I wanted to punch or kiss. It was Peter, and when he offered me his arm, I had to accept.

  "How come you're not down there with your family?" I asked him as we walked through the hallway to the stairs.

  "I've already been down there, but I realized that there was someone missing, and I couldn't have you arrive alone, could I?"

  "Why not? And how did you know that I would arrive alone?"

  Peter raised one eyebrow at me. "Your reluctance toward James hasn't exactly been subtle. I saw him come down to the party earlier by himself, and I knew that there's something going on between you two that's larger than a disagreement over an assignment. You have friends behind you all the way, and I wanted to show my support."

  I smiled at my friend. "Thank you, Peter. That explains how you knew I would arrive alone, but not the why I shouldn't. Care to explain that incredibly chauvinistic opinion?"

  Peter laughed at me. "Don't turn this on me. You know very well that I have nothing against a strong woman."

  "True, but I still want to know what you meant."

  Peter sighed. "I've known from the start that James has some unfounded jealousy of my relationship with you, and I don't like the way he's treated you, but I can also tell that he's very possessive of you, so why not torture him a bit by having to see you being escorted by the only man he feels threatened by."

  I liked his plan. There was nothing like a bit of manipulative games that could turn everything to its point. Maybe it would be the push James needed to tell me everything.

  But I was surprised that Peter was the one presenting the plan. It sounded more like something a woman would suggest, possibly even Jessica or Leah.

  I looked at him skeptically. "I like how you're thinking, but doesn't it go against some sort of 'bro code' to do this? Something like 'you shant desire your bro's hoe' or whatever?" I said with a very pore imitation of "gangsta talk."

  "First of all, guys don't talk like that. Second, don't ever call yourself a hoe; it's a huge turn-off, and third, since when are James and I bros?"

  I chuckled at him. "I see your point." We reached the bottom floor and headed toward the auditorium, which was the biggest classroom in the building. All the chairs and tables had been removed, and the small podium on which the teachers usually had their desk on had been turned into a stage for the band.

  James must have felt my presence in some way; I didn't understand how, but he turned his head in our direction as soon as we entered. When he saw me on Peter's arm, that darkness he'd shown me took residence in his eyes. They darted between us as if he tried to comprehend what he was seeing, and then he raised a hand to stop whatever Professor Martin was telling him and began his stride toward us.

  Peter saw it, too, and tried to save me by introducing me to his family, but James wasn't going to let that deter him.

  "Jennifer, could I talk to you for a minute?" He had dropped the pretense of calling me Jenn now. Apparently, he felt more comfortable with calling me Jennifer, and since I hated that name, I allowed him to use it because it made it easier for me to hate him. Still, the name sounded really good coming from him.

  Peter interjected. "I'm sorry, James, but Jenn and I were having a conversation with my parents."

  James looked at Peter for a second and then turned to Mr. and Mrs. Matthews. Had I not known that it was all a mask now, I would have fallen for his tricks myself. He was so skilled, and it frightened me to know that I was dealing with a master.

  His smile was so genuine and apologetic. "My apologies, but would it be all right with you if I borrowed Jennifer for a moment."

  Mrs. Matthews waved with her hand, noticeably dazed by James's manners. "Don't apologize. I believe we'll survive in our son's company."

  James gave them a g
rateful nod and clasped my hand in his and dragged me to a corner of the classroom. I assumed he wanted to stay in the room to lessen suspicion of what was going on between us.

  "What the hell do you think you're doing, Jennifer?" he asked through clenched teeth, the mask completely falling away as he glared at me.

  I raised my chin defiantly. "What do you mean?"

  "Why did you come here with Peter?"

  Instead of answering, I asked my own question. I knew that the more I defied him, the angrier he would become, and the chance of him revealing something to me would probably be greater then. "Why do you care?"

  I saw his jaw tense even further, and he looked up at the ceiling as if the mere sight of me made it hard for him to control his anger. He inhaled deeply and then looked back at me. "Just answer the question."

  I stared him down for a few seconds, but I knew he wouldn't let me go until he got his answer. "Peter's my friend, and he offered to escort me from my room."

  "And?" he pressed, which caused me to roll my eyes at him.

  "And that's it."

  "Are you his date?"

  I chuckled. "It wasn't a planned arrangement between us if that's what you want to know."

  When I glanced over James's shoulder, I saw that Peter was looking at us. Our eyes locked, but it gained James's attention, and he glared at Peter over his shoulder. Peter didn't flinch away as he usually did, though. Instead, he challenged James with a look of his own. I believe he felt braver now than before because he knew that James wasn't on my good list at the moment, so I wouldn't defend him in a possible confrontation.

  "I don't trust him," James said while he still glared at Peter.

  "I don't trust you," I retorted, and James's head snapped back toward me.

  "Good. You shouldn't, but…" The smile that I absolutely hated on him because it contorted his features into an ugly mask of evil appeared, and I wanted to slap him. "The next time I see what's mine with another man, I won't be so polite."

  My lower muscles clenched pleasurably at the sound of his possessiveness, but my mind was on fire with rage.

  "Excuse me? Yours?" I blanched. "What makes you believe you have any right whatsoever to claim me as yours? I don't even like you."

  He smiled even wider. "Don't lie to me, Jennifer. And for the duration of this program, you are mine to claim. In fact, I could start ravishing you right here against the wall in this very room, and not a single staff member would do anything to stop me, except for maybe asking me to take you to my room instead. You are mine for the next seven months, and if I have to do something drastic like I just suggested for the men in this room to understand that they have to stay away from you, I will do it without hesitating."

  I crossed my arms over my chest and narrowed my eyes at him, but it only caused him to laugh and plant a kiss on my cheek, which I childishly rubbed away with my fingers while mumbling "Possessive jerk" underneath my breath.

  "You wanted to see the real me, Jennifer. Here I am in all my glory. You better get used to it." He backed away from me and disappeared amongst all the students, volunteers, and their relatives. I stood firm in my spot and tried to sort out my thoughts.

  I was probably making my situation worse, especially since what I really should have done was turn around and get out of that place, leave it and James behind, forget and move on, but maybe I was a sucker for pain on a platter because I couldn't leave.

  I felt drawn to James on a level that was sick and twisted. I liked the feeling of him acting like a jerk because he wanted me, and not because that was how it was supposed to be.

  He was an idiot of huge proportions, but his stupidity was reduced by his obvious attraction for me, and I just reveled in the feeling of being wanted for once.

  When I looked around the room and met Peter's questioning gaze, I shook my head at him and went toward the table were they kept the drinks. I needed something, preferably strong, to drink, but I knew of my intolerance for hard alcohol, so I settled with a beer instead.

  It was during the after dinner mingling that it all went from bad to worse. The dinner had been very pleasant, and I spent it with Jessica's family as she'd promised, and it didn't take many minutes in Mrs. Stanley's company for me to understand from whom Jessica got her personality. They were so alike that Mrs. Stanley could have been Jessica in twenty-five years.

  I was enjoying another glass of beer and having a conversation with Jessica's older sister, Theresa, and her husband, Mark, when I felt a very smooth hand go down my arm.

  I shuddered when I realized I recognized that hand, and my suspicions were confirmed when his cologne, a scent I hadn't smelt in months, registered in my nose. I wanted to gag, and I wanted to elbow the asshole in his stomach, but I controlled myself. I would not cause a scene with these people.

  I felt his breath close to my ear and then his sleek voice.

  "Aren't you going to introduce me, Jennifer?"

  I locked eyes with Theresa and noticed the curious looks in her and her husband's eyes. I had no choice but to do as I was told.

  "Theresa, Mark, this is George Carter."

  George offered his hand to them from behind me. "I'm Jennifer's fiancée," he said, and since I had just raised my glass to gulp down my beer, I accidentally inhaled it and started to cough violently. Let me tell you, inhaling beer into your wind pipe is not a pleasant feeling.

  Theresa and Mark looked at me with concerned eyes, and I quickly excused myself to go to the bathroom.

  The door had barely closed behind me when George came in and locked the door. He stood behind me while I wiped the remnants of beer from my face.

  I threw the paper towel away and turned toward the man that was the cause for all of this. "What the fuck are you doing here, George?" I rasped out.

  George's cold eyes appraised me. "I see they haven't shaken that bad language out of you yet."

  "Answer the goddamn question."

  He sighed. "Is it wrong of me to want to celebrate Christmas with my fiancée when I haven't seen her for six months?"

  "Exactly where in your hair gel damaged brain have you gotten the impression that we are engaged?" I asked and crossed my arms over my chest.

  George shook his head as if he was disappointed. "Jennifer, you shouldn't drink alcohol if it makes you forget such crucial life events. I gave you my grandmother's ring. I went down on my knee and you accepted."

  I scoffed at the memory. He made it sound like a dream proposal when it had been anything but that. He gave me his grandmother's ring because his mother wouldn't accept anything else, and he only got me to accept when he'd made me realize that he was the only one who'd be willing to marry me.

  "Which I gave back to you, together with my middle finger, when you broke up with me."

  George dug in his pocket and showed me the extravagant ring. "And I am here to place it where it belongs, Jennifer. When are you going to get it inside of your tiny head that you and I are supposed to be together?"

  I took a step forward and pushed him in the chest, causing him to almost fall against the stall doors. "We are not supposed to be anything. It's just something our mothers have pushed into your head. You need a wife who can move in the social circles and nothing would be better than the Chief's daughter. Too bad that they didn't realize that I will never be the pill-popping missus while you go around and dip your dick in a crab-infested socialite whore."

  I was right in his face at this point, and since he was taller, I had to tilt my head back to continue looking at him. He didn't seem affected by my anger, though.

  "Your hate is my fuel, Jennifer," he said and started to back me into the sink. "The fire in your eyes is just a façade to hide your broken heart. Why would you otherwise react to me with such a passion?"

  He raised his hand to touch my cheek, but I hit his hand away. My anger was only becoming more intense as the seconds ticked by, because I could suddenly see the similarities between James and George.

  They were
both possessive assholes who loved to belittle me. In fact, I'm pretty sure they lived off it. They had no respect for personal space, and their eyes held the same cold and hard glint, but their motives were complete opposites and that was the major factor for me.

  George did it because that was how he'd been raised. He thought that this was how a man was supposed to treat his wife. He didn't want me. He wanted what my social status could give him.

  James did it because he wanted me. Not for what I could give him, but for my personality. He liked strong women, and even though he had a twisted part of his persona that scared me, I was positive that part would fade away with time. He was possessive and jealous, but only because he hadn't secured me as his yet.

  I would take that over George any day because James had never actually insulted my persona. He made me feel small when he said that he'd lied, but he'd never actually attacked me with his cruel words.

  "You didn't break my heart, George. I've never felt more relieved than I did after you broke up with me. Now, I know about your little scheme with my mom. I know you told her that you'd take me back if I finished this program, but listen to this: I won't take you back in a million years, but I'm pretty sure my mother will be a free woman in a matter of months, so why don't you go and hit that instead. It's what you've wanted all along, isn't it?"

  I walked away from his stunned expression and unlocked the door to the bathroom. I was only half-way through the hallway when George caught up to me and pressed my old engagement ring into my hand.

  "It doesn't matter what you want! It will happen anyway. You know it, and I know it, so just accept it."

  "No!" I exclaimed and threw the ring at him. "I will never marry you! I'd rather starve to death without a single penny to my name."

  I felt a presence behind me, and I knew that it was James even before he spoke, and when he did, he did not sound happy. "I think it would be in your best interest to leave Jennifer alone," he said without giving room for protest.

  George didn't listen, though. "Don't involve yourself. This is between me and my fiancée."