Tailored for Trouble Page 12

  Taylor looked away. She was making a fool of herself, wasn’t she?

  Candy slid her hand across the table and gave Taylor’s wrist a light squeeze. “Like I said before, the man doesn’t get involved with women who work for him. So do yourself a favor and accept he’s off-limits. You’ll save yourself a huge amount of heartbreak.” Candy looked down at her menu. “Besides, you’re not his type.”

  Taylor laughed. “Well, thanks. Not that I care.”

  “No, no, honey. I meant that as a compliment. You’re much too brainy. And I can tell you don’t take lip from a man,” she said with a little extra southern sass. “He only dates superficial airheads. I keep warning him to raise the bar, but he won’t listen.”

  “Apparently, he does more than just date them.”

  Candy folded her menu and set it down. “Mr. Wade doesn’t discuss his relationships with me, but the tabloids make stuff up about him all the time.”

  But the Victoria woman had a giant rock on her hand and had been holding it to the camera.

  She continued, “All I can tell you is what I know. And this girl,” she pointed to herself, “knows sleazy men. Mr. Wade isn’t one of them. He just hasn’t found the right woman yet.”

  “Is that what happened with his ex, Kate?” Taylor asked. “She wasn’t good enough?”

  “Honey, I have no clue what went on between him and that woman, but the moment I laid eyes on Kate, I knew the innocent schoolteacher thing was an act. That woman was anything but innocent.” She shook her head and sighed. “I triiied to warn him. But, let me tell you: he was not happy when that one ended.”

  That made Taylor wonder if Bennett had been dumped and not the other way around. No. No way. He’s not the kind of guy who girls dumped. Of course, what did she know? “So, you were going to tell me how you met him, right?” Taylor asked.

  The waiter showed up with their drinks and took their orders. Taylor wasn’t that hungry so she ordered the sashimi salad. Candy ordered a teriyaki chicken-something with rice.

  “Cheers.” Candy held up her glass of white wine and Taylor toasted with her large cocktail.

  They both sipped and then Candy set her glass on the table and folded her hands. From her body language, Taylor sensed the conversation was about to go down a serious path.

  “I met Mr. Wade here in Japan, actually. I used to be a call girl of sorts,” Candy said.

  Taylor tried to keep from spitting her mouth full of vodka across the table. “I’m sorry, did you say ‘call girl’?”

  Candy lifted her chin. “Well, really more like a ‘paid’ companion, but yes. My life is a horrible cliché, right down to my name.”

  Wow. Taylor didn’t want to be judgmental, but this was not what she’d expected to hear.

  “So how does one…” Taylor sipped her drink to clear the shock from her throat, “end up a call girl in Japan?”

  “Another damned cliché, honey. That’s how. I was eighteen and stupid and from a small town in Arkansas. We didn’t have any money growing up so when a friend of mine, who had an older sister living in Los Angeles, invited me there for a weekend of partying, it was like breaking out of prison. I never went anywhere except church and school.” She leaned in. “And honey, someone shoulda kept me there. One night we were out at a bar drinking and I ended up going home with two guys. They introduced me to drugs. I never went home. One thing led to another, and a year later I was stripping for money. I was a mess.”

  Taylor’s eyes went wide, and she hardly knew what to say. “Oh my God. That’s…awful.” It sounded like the plot of a sad Lifetime movie.

  She took a big sip of her drink, attempting to understand how something like what Candy was saying was even possible. Candy looked so…well, she didn’t look like an ex–drug addict, that was for sure.

  Candy went on, “Like I said, I was young and stupid and I didn’t want to listen to anyone who tried to help me. I ended up getting involved with a wealthy Japanese businessman—Mr. Ito—who was a customer at the club. He liked redheads, and he promised me anything I wanted. It was fine for a while, but then he charmed me into coming back to Japan with him. It seemed glamorous—a fun adventure. And frankly, better than stripping. But when we got here, he started pimping me out to his rich friends.” Candy said the words lightly, but her mouth was hard. “He said he’d kill me if I tried to leave.”

  Oh crap. Now her story sounded like a horror movie. “But…but why didn’t you go to the police?” Taylor asked softly.

  “I tried. Trust me, I tried. But I lived in a compound with several other women, all in the same situation. The doors were locked. The walls were high. And there was a guard who made it very clear that we would be killed on the spot if we so much as spoke or whispered an improper word. I watched him kill one girl, just to make his point.”

  Taylor froze in her seat, hanging on every word. She just couldn’t wrap her head around it. How had Candy survived it? “You must’ve been completely terrified,” she whispered.

  “I was too drugged-up to care, actually. But then one night, Mr. Wade came for dinner, to discuss buying up some factory Mr. Ito owned. Mr. Ito thought Mr. Wade would enjoy my company. But he took one look at me, made some polite excuse, and left. Barely an hour later, the police showed up, and just like that, it was over.” Candy shrugged, but Taylor could tell it wasn’t exactly easy for her to confess all this.

  “Wow. I just…don’t know what to say.” She reached out and squeezed Candy’s hand. “What did you do after that?”

  Candy shook her head. “I basically thought my life was over. I didn’t have money, I was a basket case, and too ashamed to go home and face my parents. They were the kind—God rest their judgmental souls—who thought anyone who strayed from the good Lord’s path, for any reason, was just givin’ in to the devil.”

  Taylor noticed how the more Candy drank, the more her drawl came through. Frankly, it was really, really endearing.

  She went on, “Mr. Wade, for whatever reason and sweet man that he is, took pity on me. He set me up with an apartment in San Francisco, rehab, therapy, even helped me get back into school. I kept thinkin’ that he’d come one day demanding payment for his generosity—I mean, that was what I expected from men—but he never did.”

  “Did you ever ask why he chose to help you? I mean—you’re obviously a very special person who was worth saving, but he didn’t know you.” Taylor couldn’t help feeling so intrigued by this.

  Candy bobbed her head. “Yes, years later I finally asked. He just said, ‘You can’t save everyone, but there’s no bigger crime than not trying.’ ”

  Taylor took a mental step back. That was such an un-a-hole, un-pompous-billionaire kind of thing to say.

  Candy continued, “After I finished college, I decided I wanted to work in the travel industry and see the world—sober this time—so I applied for a few jobs. When I asked Mr. Wade if he’d be a reference, he said no.”

  “No?” Taylor blinked.

  “He said I should come work for him—for as long as I wanted. I’ve been with him ever since.”

  Taylor simply didn’t know what to say. Candy’s story was so tragic and it could’ve ended in a very dark place if not for Bennett. “Wow,” Taylor murmured again, quietly. It seemed to be the only thing she could say.

  “Now, don’t you go feelin’ sorry for me. I think in a lot of ways, the experience made me a better person, a person with a purpose. Now, I spend time volunteering to help women in similar circumstances. There’s a lot of good that’s come out of all this.”

  Taylor nodded, trying to digest the horror of Candy’s experience. “Well, you’re a stronger person than I am.”

  Candy shrugged. “We all have our stories. So,” she took a sip of her wine, “what’s yours?”

  Taylor made a little pft sound. “Compared to you, mine is pretty…well, I guess uneventful. I’m feeling like a spoiled brat, actually.”

  Candy laughed. “Why’s that?”

 
; “Up until five minutes ago, I kind of felt sorry for myself. I come from a long line of crazy-successful overachievers and haven’t really done anything with my life.” Yet, she’d been given every opportunity—a safe home, a demanding but loving father, three brothers who looked after her in their own way, a good education, and some wonderful friends. But somehow she’d always felt lacking—maybe because she had grown up without her mother—when all along she’d had the building blocks to make something of herself. Instead of using them, she just…settled.

  Dammit. Bennett had read her like an open book when he’d said that she was the sort of person who always settled. It was true; she needed to stop lying to herself. And I need to get on with my life and turn things around, not waste my time with some childish scheme to destroy this man. Whoever he really was, he wasn’t evil.

  Flawed? Maybe.

  Domineering? Absolutely.

  Sexy? Yes, ma’am.

  But she’d stepped into a situation she’d felt was crystal clear and now treaded in muddy waters.

  “You okay, sweetie?” Candy asked.

  Taylor waved her hand. “I’m fine. And thank you for sharing your story.”

  “No problem. I just wish it could help you get over your little issue.”

  “My issue?” Taylor asked.

  “You’re not the first woman to have a thing for Mr. Wade.”

  “I don’t have ‘a thing.’ I just…it’s complicated.”

  Candy raised her glass. “Well, it’s none of my business. So here’s to complicated.”

  An hour and two more cocktails later, Taylor made her way upstairs. Candy had gone to the spa, but Taylor was ready to find Bennett and have that talk. She’d start by asking him about the bet and why he’d lied about Lady Mary. He never had explained that to her, and before Taylor admitted what she’d done—or had planned to do—she wanted to hear what Bennett’s story was.

  She exited the elevator and immediately heard Bennett yelling at someone out in the hallway, around the corner. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he roared.

  Oh crap. Who was he talking to?

  “I trusted you,” Bennett ranted, “I put my goddamned faith in you, and you repay me by going behind my back and sabotaging my deal?”

  Taylor had expected a man to respond, but instead heard a Japanese-sounding woman with a soft voice. “Mr. Wade, sir. I am so sorry. Please forgive me.”

  “I give people one chance. One. You’re fired. So get the hell out of my face. And you better believe I’m going to make sure everyone, and I mean everyone, knows what sort of crap you pulled.”

  “I’ll be ruined,” she sobbed quietly.

  “You should’ve fucking thought of that before you screwed me.”

  Taylor covered her mouth. Oh no. If this was how Bennett reacted with this woman, she could only imagine how he’d respond to her confession. He’ll kill me. Then he’ll ruin me. Or the other way around.

  Taylor heard the tapping sound of footsteps approaching right before the woman appeared, almost crashing into her. Without stopping to say a word, she hurried on toward the stairwell, tears in her eyes.

  Taking a deep breath, Taylor turned the corner. Bennett was there, his face bright red with anger. From the look of his well-tailored, immaculate black suit, perfectly combed hair, and navy blue tie with spatters of gray, he’d just come from his business meeting. Aside from his purple eye, he looked like he’d walked right out of a fashion magazine.

  “Bad date?” Taylor asked.

  “I wish.” He looked at her intensely. “You’re coming with me.”

  “Wh-where?”

  “You look like you’ve already been drinking, so you can keep me company while I catch up.”

  “Oh. No, I really should get some rest.” And think about how to tell you I’m not going to train you.

  “You slept for eight hours on the plane. And I had to listen to you snore, so you owe me.”

  I snored? In front of him? Oh the shame…On the other hand, he yelled at people in his sleep. How weird was that?

  Bennett grabbed her hand and dragged her to the elevator, his square jaw flexing and pulsing the entire way down to the lobby.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Taylor asked.

  “No.”

  “Okay.” She leaned against the wall of the elevator.

  He sighed. “That looked pretty bad, didn’t it?”

  Yes. But not for the reason you think. Now she felt stuck between wanting to get everything out in the open, and being frightened by how he might react if she told him the real reason she’d come along on the trip.

  “I suppose you sounded…upset,” she finally said.

  The elevator doors opened, and he took Taylor’s hand again. His was warm and strong and the tiny little tingles he provoked from the skin-on-skin contact made her tighten her grip.

  Her heels clacked across the gleaming beige and black marble floors of the lobby as she jogged behind him, trying to keep up.

  “Where are we going?” She’d thought they’d just be staying inside the hotel, but he headed for the doors.

  “Somewhere quiet, without prying eyes and opportunistic chauffeurs.”

  Oh. So he knew about the picture of them kissing. She would’ve commented, but she had zero desire to discuss the incident. Or think about that kiss.

  He dragged her along for several blocks down a busy narrow street lined with tall light gray buildings lacking any real personality. It was difficult to articulate the architectural style in this part of Tokyo other than to call it functional and somewhat sterile. Nothing at all like San Francisco.

  They turned right, down what looked to be a back alley, but was probably just a regular old residential road. Trees and a long iron fence lined one side, and more of those tall, skinny, industrial-style apartment buildings that had shops on the first floor lined the other. Off in the distance, peeking over one of the buildings, the glowing orange lights of the Tokyo tower pointed up at the sky, like a laser beam ready to blast Godzilla right from the clouds.

  Or was it Mothra who always attacked? She couldn’t remember.

  Walking at a brisk pace, her feet beginning to burn, they passed a 7-Eleven (yes, a 7-Eleven) and then came upon a quiet little hole-in-the wall restaurant. A lonely lamp hung over the open doorway where a long white and blue curtain blocked the interior from view.

  The moment they entered, Bennett was greeted by a short, bald man wearing a kimono and hakama outfit. He bowed deeply with a warm smile. “Mr. Wade, so nice to see you again.” Bow, bow, bow.

  Bennett bowed back.

  Taylor offered a little half bow and half head dip sort of thing, feeling ridiculous the entire time. I suck at foreign diplomacy.

  The quaint little establishment only had a few small wooden tables and a sushi bar on one side. Bennett gestured to the open spot next to them and then pulled Taylor’s chair out for her. As she sat, she realized she really hadn’t eaten enough because the three double vodkas were definitely making her head spin. She also had the munchies and began drooling over a delicious-looking platter of Kobe beef, pate, and cold cuts at the table next to them.

  “So, French-Japanese fusion food, huh? Looks good.” It was a culinary combo she’d never tried before, though her favorites were Chinacan—Chinese Mexican (Peking duck burritos rocked)—or Italique—Italian-style BBQ (aka cooking pizzas on the grill).

  “They serve sushi, too,” Bennett said, taking his seat and then loosening his tie and releasing the top few buttons of his dress shirt. “But only the rare stuff—the delicacies for the adventurous.”

  Taylor hated to ask, but she did, if only to keep her mind off how good the man across from her looked undressing. “Please, please don’t tell me you’re going to eat that puffer fish stuff.”

  He smiled, his blue eyes flickering with a devilish twinkle. It reminded her of the day of the plane crash when he got them all safely to the ground. “Fugu.”

  Yep. The
man loves his danger. Or was it the challenge? “Please. I really don’t want to watch you keel over.”

  “Did you know that it numbs the lips and gives one the feeling of having done a few shots of tequila? That is, if you don’t die.”

  Wow. Yum, she thought dryly.

  The waiter returned with a white bottle of sake, two miniature ceramic sake mugs, and a square dish with an assortment of odd-looking raw things, one of them still moving on the plate.

  Taylor covered her mouth.

  “You must try this, Ms. Reed. It’s a flavor like no other,” Bennett said, unwrapping his chopsticks.

  “No.” She shook her head. “Thank you. And what the hell is that?”

  “It’s baby octopus—very fresh.” With his large yet surprisingly nimble hand—a hand that made her wonder about his adeptness at other activities requiring finger skills—God, you’re so naughty, Tay—he plucked a wriggling octopus tentacle from the plate, dipped it into the special “live suffering critter” sauce, and popped it into his mouth. He chewed before washing it down with the entire mug of sake.

  Taylor took a sip of her drink, trying not to look at the horrific plate of moving food right in front her. Maybe you should go back to thinking about his fancy fingers.

  “So, what’s the occasion?” she asked.

  “I don’t wish to talk about it.”

  She leaned back in her chair. “What do you want to talk about?”

  He was silent for a long moment, maybe debating if he wanted to tell her what had happened. “Nothing. Let’s just drink.”

  That sounded boring. “Did you know my talking toilet is female? It’s incredibly offensive. I tried to change it to be male, which seems far more appropriate in my opinion, but I don’t think they even offer that setting. Can you believe that?”

  Yep, I’m sauced.

  He looked at her briefly and then grabbed another wiggly thing. “How about we finish your questionnaire? That seems like a more suitable topic while I eat and get drunk.”

  This was her moment. She had to take it. “About that, Bennett, I wanted to talk to you—”

  “I realize I wasn’t being very cooperative earlier. My apologies. I’ve got a lot going on right now.” He took another drink, and she noticed how his large, normally rigid broad shoulders seemed to be sagging a bit. He looked tired and somewhat beaten down.