Still, he's good at leading and keeps me from looking too stupid. Then the music switches to a slow song, and he pulls me in closer to him. I rest my head on his shoulder thinking that for such a shitty start, this day has ended up pretty amazing.
Toward the end of the cruise we're served dessert out on the top deck under the stars: chocolate silk pie and coffee. The boat docks further up the river, closer to where we first started walking. I'm relieved we won't have to walk an hour back to the park we met in. Griffin walks me to my car in a comfortable silence, his fingers threading through mine.
I'm not sure at what point we started holding hands, but it feels natural, not forced. He feels natural—and fun. When we reach my car, he asks for my number. I give it to him, and he kisses me on the cheek and whispers, “I'll call you this week.”
I don't know it yet, but this has been the first of many dates with the smooth and charming Griffin Macdonald. And while in the coming week, one man will find himself booted off my roster, it won't be Soren.
Dayne
The Mark
Seven months ago. Last November.
I've been following Livia at a distance for the past two weeks, trying to find the right moment to make my move. From the intel I've gathered—including reports from Soren's private investigator—our suspicions are right. She's dating three men: Griffin, Soren, and a guy named Jack.
I've met Jack once. He's kind of a douchebag and definitely not at the same level of success as Griffin, Soren, and myself. My job is to get on her roster and get Jack out. It's tricky business because we all run the risk that she might decide to take me on but drop Griffin or Soren. We've got backup plans for that, but you never know. Then there's the even bigger risk that she'll reject me outright, and there may not be a bounce back from that. Any further attempts after a hard rejection just make me look like a dangerous stalker.
Soren is counting on the gold digger aspect—that she'll go for whoever has the deepest pockets. But I have my doubts about this. It's no question that she's looking to marry up, but does that make her a gold digger? I'm not so sure. She's not asking anyone to buy her a bunch of things or pay any of her bills. She's maintained a certain independence and desire to take care of her own living expenses. Though I'm sure men have bought and paid for things anyway. I know Griffin and Soren have spent money.
And marriage is the big cash out, so she may just be patient enough to wait it out. She is remaining chaste with all these men after all, even when it seems clear she wants to go further. So she's not a prude. I will definitely be pushing and testing this button myself at the first available opportunity. Few people in the modern world have this level of self-control, which makes her oddly unpredictable.
I admit, I'm intrigued. When Griffin and Soren first laid out the plan, I wasn't sure I was on board. But just watching her laugh and engage with the world in the sweet uncomplicated way she does these past couple of weeks, and I'm seriously considering it. There's something refreshing about this girl—something untainted and pure, even though I'm sure she isn't a virgin.
And she's beautiful. She has clear light blue eyes like a pristine lake in the mountains and this beachy sun-streaked hair that goes halfway down her back in soft waves I want to slide my fingers through.
Livia doesn't play these cheap silly games of the average gold digger. And she doesn't act entitled. She isn't looking for dumbasses with deep pockets. She wants a smart man that she can respect. It's a dance. It's a game. And I've got the money to burn. I'll play if she will. Plus Soren and Griffin will kick my ass if I leave them and their grand plan in the lurch.
I'm still not sure I'm prepared to jump into a forever thing with them and this girl. That's why I need to interview her.
Livia is shopping at a high-end boutique today. She has several nice dresses ready for purchase along with a bottle of perfume which I happen to know is Soren's favorite fragrance on a woman. I wonder if she's cataloging all of these preferences for each man she dates. I wonder if she has a list somewhere to keep it all straight or if she truly cares enough to remember.
The sales clerk is ringing up her purchase when I make my move. I have a navy silk tie in my hand from the men's section. I just grabbed the first thing I saw so I could get in line behind her.
I drop my tie on top of her things and pass my black card to the clerk.
“Please, allow me,” I say. I'm not sure how I hope she'll react. A rejection of my offer could just mean she wants me to insist, like women who try to go for the check at dinner but really want you to stop them. Or maybe she'll say no flat out. Or maybe she'll say yes with greedy little dollar signs behind her eyes. A foolish part of me hopes she won't do the latter.
She turns to me and smiles. It's a genuine, electrifying and open smile that lights up the entire space. And God help me, but she's already got me. For a moment it's easy to forget she's the mark in a game she doesn't even know she's playing.
“Thank you, that's very kind of you.” She steps gracefully aside so I can sign the receipt.
Huh. She knows I can afford it. I did just flash my black card, and this girl is savvy. She knows about black cards. But even though I've been watching her, I didn't expect this reaction. She seems completely unfazed by this gesture but at the same time appreciative of it. She's not ashamed. Not indignant. It's as though I merely opened a door for her. She isn't shocked by this kind of treatment. She's not impressed or overly charmed. But... she's not entitled either. She's not a brat.
I can't put words to how this simple exchange makes me feel.
I sign and wait as the clerk puts our things in two separate bags. Livia looks a bit overburdened by bags already. She's been shopping in the other stores nearby as well. This gives me my next opportunity.
“Let me help you out with your bags,” I offer.
She takes a good long look at me. I'm not sure if she's assessing my danger or my dating potential.
In case it's the former I say, “It's broad daylight. I promise I'm not a serial killer.”
She smiles and hands over her bags while picking up my small bag containing the tie. “Okay. I'll carry yours if you carry mine. And I know you're not a serial killer. They don't give out black cards to serial killers.”
I laugh. She's probably right about that. I like this girl. It's been a long time since I've really liked a woman. Not just been attracted. Not just wanted to sleep with, but genuinely liked. And suddenly I'm a teenager worried I'll mess up and the pretty girl at school will turn me down. I'm not sure what to do with this sudden burst of whatever thing it is she's making me feel. It's so foreign, so long forgotten, and suddenly I have zero doubts about this.
There's no guilt. No hesitation. I want this girl. I want this image, this idea, this plan that Soren and Griffin laid out for me. I want us. The four of us. She has no idea the precarious line she walks. I'm determined not to fuck this up.
Even though I'm carrying all the bags, I open the door and let her walk out first, knowing each gallant gesture disarms her and gets me closer to yes. Though to be honest she doesn't seem to have a big guard or giant walls around her, which is pretty unusual these days. Part of me is charmed by it and another part of me wants to shake her and ask does she not know the thoughts that go through men's minds? Does she not know the wolves who would eat her alive? Part of me wants to punish her and another part wants to protect her—from men like me and Griffin and Soren.