Chapter 3: “The Game I’m Playing”
Renee’s POV
I snapped my fingers right in front of his face.
“You look like you’ve just seen an angel.”
Clark blinked, as if shaking himself out of a trance. “I… uhh.. I’m sorry… I’m sorry i yelled at you… I’m just not in a good mood right now.”
He reached for a shot glass on the bar top, lifting it like he expected liquid courage to magically appear. The bottom was dry. Disappointment flickered over his face before he called for the bartender.
“Allow me.”
I touched his hand lightly.. just enough to make him look at me and offered a slow wink. “I’ve got this.”
Pulling my hand back while slowly letting my hands brush through his all the way down, I turned to the bartender. “A bottle of tequila for my friend here, and a glass of Sex on the Beach for me. Extra lime slices.”
The bartender gave a quick nod and walked off.
Clark frowned. “Uhh… don’t you think that’s a bit much?”
“Come on,” I said, leaning one elbow on the bar. “If you’re angry or sad, the best way to vent is through alcohol. That’s basic knowledge you know.”
He exhaled sharply. “I know but I can’t risk being seen drunk… it would…”
“Ruin your career?” I cut in smoothly. “Yeah, of course I know. But that’s if you’re caught” I tilted my head, lowering my voice so it purred. “I’ve got a penthouse not too far from here. You could drink as much as you want, and no one would see or know.”
He studied me, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “Penthouse, huh? That’s pretty fancy for someone as young as you. What are you? 26? 27?”
I laughed before leaning in closer, whispering like I was telling him some state secrets. “Let’s say I’m old enough to own not just one but several Penthouses across the states including LA”
The bartender returned, setting down the bottle and my drink. “Thank you,” I said in a silkier tone than necessary, just to see Clark’s reaction.
Sure enough, his brow furrowed. “That voice…” He squinted at me like he was trying to line up a memory.
I kept my smile fixed. “What? Sound like someone you know?”
He didn’t answer right away. A long pause followed by a deep scan, then a slight shake of his head. “Never mind. It can’t be. You two don’t even look alike… besides, she’s dead.”
My fingers curled into my palm beneath the counter, nails biting my skin. Ofcourse I’m dead to him!
“So,” I said, forcing the brightness back into my voice, “shall we? I’ll make it worth your while too!!” I winked at him, biting my lower lips slowly.
He held my gaze for a moment longer before his phone beeped causing him to look down at it, Sarah’s name lighting up his screen again. “Umm… I don’t know about that, you see I’m married.”
A small laugh escaped my lips almost immediately.. It was sharp and amused. “You don’t think I’m hitting on you, do you?”
His silence said otherwise.
“Oh dear…” I let out a small laugh before continuing “Look, I saw an annoyingly good-looking man sitting alone at the bar looking like the world had just ended, so I decided to help,” I continued. “No ulterior motives intended. But if you insist, I’ll leave you alone. The drink’s still on my tab, though.”
We stared at each other. One second. Two. Almost two whole minutes.
I sighed, pushing back from my stool. “Alright. That’s my cue. Take care, Mr. Wayne.”
I had just turned when his voice stopped me.
“Wait.”
I smiled to myself briefly before I schooled my features, then turned to face him again. “Yes?”
“I’ll come. I really need to get away from these glaring eyes. But nothing's going to happen”
I gave a little shrug. “Promise.. So? let's go?”
I grabbed the tequila from the counter, took his hand, and tugged him toward the exit. He followed without hesitation.
Thirty minutes later
The elevator hummed softly as it climbed toward the twelfth floor. We were alone, the air thick with unsaid things.
A sudden wobble jolted us, and I lost my balance, stumbling right into his arms. His hands caught me firmly. Our faces were so close I could feel his breath warm against my lips.
Clark’s gaze locked with mine, something unreadable flickering there. Slowly, his head began to lower…
Yes… come on Clark.. just a little more.. I thought waiting and counting the seconds until he kisses me.
Then
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open. I let out a light laugh, stepping back. “Careful, Mr. Wayne. You might end up falling for me, your wife wouldn’t appreciate that..”
He scoffed, releasing me.
I led the way towards the door and using the key card I unlocked the door and let him in.
Inside, I spread my arms wide. “Welcome to my humble abode. Technically… one of my many humble abodes.”
He stepped inside, his eyes catching on the large portraits hanging along the wall. “Wow.. you must be filthy rich… these are all vintage pieces. Each one’s worth over a million dollars.”
I smirked. “I see someone knows his paintings.” He smiled and began running his hands over the paintings as he admired them.
“I see I’ve managed to lighten your mood with my paintings.. but if I may ask why were you in a bad mood earlier?” I finally got to ask, tilting my head as I sank into the couch.
His expression darkened. Without answering, he joined me, twisting open the tequila and drinking straight from the bottle. Minutes into his drinking, his words started to pour out.. I listened to him rant… he started with his lost deal with the Crownlakers, how he’d spent two wasted years with The Wales, and the woman who had ruined everything.
His deceased wife, Renee.
Me.
I kept my face calm, but inside, my blood boiled.
How dare he say I ruined everything…
An hour later, his speech began to slur. His head tipped back against the couch. I leaned forward, and without warning, I pressed my lips to his.
He didn’t hesitate. He kissed me back like he’d been starving for it.
That was all I needed.
The next morning
My keys clinked against the stand in the mansion’s lobby as I stepped inside. My heels clicked against the marble floor. The success from last night glimmered in my heart.
I’d barely taken two steps toward the stairs when a familiar voice rang from the sitting room.
“Where the hell were you last night, Renee? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all night. You fucking got me worried.”
I stopped, exhaled, and turned my head toward the voice.
Andrew Kinsley stood at the stairs, his soft eyes fixed on me.
