Truth or Dare

CATHERINE

I stared at the three giggling idiots in front of me and kept asking myself how in the world I ended up in this situation. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be sitting in this white-leather booth in the VIP zone of the wealthy-snob-only club. I shouldn't be drinking stuff that cost more than half of my usual paycheck. And I certainly shouldn't wear that stupid pink, glittering veil on my head, like a goddamn Barbie bride!

“Your turn to spin, Portia!” Naomi gestured at my half-sister with her drink, spilling more than a few drops on the table.

“God save me,” I murmured, taking a cautious sip from my glass.

Devilishly grinning, Portia placed the bottle on the table and spun it. I exhaled slowly, leaning against the seat. I still couldn't believe that my father made me come here, made me pretend I was happy for her, and that I was grateful she picked me as one of her bridesmaids. As if the fact that she was going to marry my ex-boyfriend—the guy I'd once wanted to marry and have kids with—didn't fucking matter...

The bottle stopped, pointing at Coco. The girl cackled, causing her blond curls to bounce. “Truth!” she exclaimed.

My sister straightened up in her seat, brushing the glitter-covered brown strand of her hair behind her shoulder. Her hazel eyes locked on her bestie. “Did you or did you not sleep with the basketball team in our sophomore year?”

Surely, I had no idea who that guy was, but apparently, Coco knew him—perhaps knew him all too well—since she gasped and clamped her hand over her mouth.

“You did!” Naomi pointed her finger at her, snorting. “You little slut!”

“I did not!” Coco shook her head before adding, “We certainly did not sleep…”

I rolled my eyes and rose to my feet. Portia's head instantly snapped in my direction. “I didn't allow you to leave.” Her eyes fixed on me, a cruel smirk dancing on her lips. “Get your fat ass back on the seat,” she snarled and her friends snickered.

I held her stare, half-considering throwing my drink at her. “Ladies' room,” I gritted out, grabbing my purse. “I wanted to go to the ladies' room.”

Portia raised her chin and glanced at Naomi and Coco. “What do you think, girls? Should I let my little slave go?” Then she let out a theatrical sigh, turned to me, and dismissively waved her hand. “You have five minutes.”

My violent urges rose, but I clamped them down and strained through my teeth, “How merciful of you.”

I didn't waste my time, knowing my dear sister might easily increase the level of her bitchiness. I stepped out of the booth and headed to the narrow corridor dimly illuminated by blue lights. I maneuvered between more than a dozen booze-reeking New York's young representatives of the rich and famous before I reached the right door. I nearly whimpered in relief when I realized the room was empty.

I closed the door, thanking every higher power for a moment of peace. The ladies' room was far from soundproof, but at least the thumping of the bass here seemed a bit less vicious than outside.

I stepped toward the sink and sprinkled my face with cold water. “You can do this, Catherine,” I muttered to myself. “It's just a stupid bachelorette party.”

Drawing a slow breath, I examined myself in the mirror. Luckily, my red wavy strands were still in place and didn't flatten on top of my head—despite that stupid little veil. Thanks to some high-end mascara my friend, Fifi, had given me, my lashes were longer than usual, making my round, green eyes seem twice as large. Precautiously, I added a thin layer of a sassy red tint to my lips—another small element of my armor. Yep, I needed everything I had in my arsenal to survive this night.

I didn't look that bad, though. I might have been wearing a slightly trashy red dress I'd bought three years ago, but I dared say I still looked more chic than my half-sister and her two besties wearing sparkling pink dresses with nearly see-through tops.

I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. “Catherine Duncan, you need to calm the fuck down,” I murmured. “Play your role for a while and it'll all be just fine.”

I would have never taken my father's offer if I hadn't been desperate. I needed money to pay for my mom's treatment. The insurance money had run out first. A few months later, I'd sold our apartment and moved to the small room above my workshop. I'd thought that would be enough… but then my mom had a stroke and fell into a coma. Only then did I call the rich asshole that happened to be my father and made this ridiculous deal with him.  

I blew out another slow breath and fixed my eyes on my reflection. “Don't be a coward,” I murmured. Then I rolled back my shoulders and pulled a few of my auburn waves behind my ear. A heartbeat passed, and I strode out of the ladies' room, heading back to the white-leather booth. With a faint smile on my lips, I slid into my seat and faced the three harpies.

Portia folded her arms across her sparkling chest. “It took you longer than five minutes,” she hissed.

I shrugged. “I needed to fix my makeup.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” Then she spun the bottle again.

I watched the bottle slow down as its neck rolled toward me and stopped... Shit.

Coco and Naomi snickered while Portia clasped her hands together, her red-tinted lips stretching into a devilish grin. “Truth or dare?” my sister purred.

Neither was a good option, but I had to choose something. Had I chosen the truth, she would have surely asked about something connected to my mom. She and Regina, Portia's mother, always sought ways to humiliate her. I couldn't let that happen. She could mock me as much as she wanted to, but I would never let her insult my mom.

“Dare,” I strained through my teeth.

Portia burst into laughter, which the two bimbos instantly echoed. “How courageous of you!”

I gave her a look. “Just say what you want me to do.”

A cold smirk tugged at her lips as she looked around the club. Then her eyes returned to me. “I want you to kiss the hottest guy in this club.”

Chills ran down my spine. I might have looked like a party girl, but I sure as hell wasn't one. I had never even initiated a flirt with a guy, and now I was supposed to walk over and kiss a stranger?!

“Go on.” Portia chuckled. “There's plenty to choose from.”

“I'd pick the guy over there.” Naomie pointed at the tall, bulky guy with tattoos covering his overly muscled arms.

Portia glanced at him before shifting her gaze to me. Her brows rose. “What do you think?”

I cleared my throat. “Not my type,” I muttered.

“How about the one of those by the bar?” Coco giggled, locking her eyes on the two men standing there.

I bit my lip. Damn. The blond guy in a navy suit was fine, but a mere look at the brunette next to him caused me to clench my thighs.

“I think we have a winner,” Portia announced. “Kiss the black-haired one.”

My hands fisted. I was well aware that this game could end badly. This place was filled with assholes—rich assholes at that. What if this guy turned out to be one of them? What if he demanded an apology for tainting his precious lips? Or worse! What if he took the kiss as a sexual assault and then filed a lawsuit against me?!

“What are you waiting for?” Naomie nudged my arm. “Go there and kiss him.”

I ground my teeth. I seriously wished I could just tell them to go fuck themselves. Unfortunately, I had to play nice and pretend I was having a good time.

Sucking a sharp breath, I rose from my seat and locked my eyes on the target. Back straightened, I slowly walked to the bar. God… That dark-haired guy looked like an embodiment of sin. His black three-piece suit embraced every mouthwatering part of him. I could easily imagine those firm muscles hidden underneath the layers of carefully tailored fabric. I wouldn't be surprised if “Sex God” were his middle name. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if this was his first name either…

He turned to his blond-haired friend, a smirk tugging at his full lips. I drew a shaky breath. I was less than three steps away from the bar. My heart began to hammer. It was now or never. “Don't be a coward, Catherine,” I muttered under my breath.

I took another step forward and patted his shoulder. He was even taller than I thought he was. He turned toward me, and my breath hitched. With his strong, intimidating frame, he easily towered over me. His stormy-gray eyes locked on mine, curiosity blossoming in his expression.

“Yes?” His voice sounded nearly like a physical caress—velvet brushing over my most sensitive skin. Shit… I was in serious trouble, wasn't I?

I grabbed his tie, forcing him to lower his head an inch or two. I climbed to my toes and pressed my lips against his. His scent hit my nostrils—a very definition of temptation and decadence. Unable to resist, I brushed the seam of his lips with the tip of my tongue. Something in his eyes flared, something feral.

I barely noticed his arms snaking around my waist, pressing me against him. A smug smirk appeared as he slightly pulled back, surveying every inch of my face. “Naughty, aren't we?” he murmured.

I stopped breathing. That stillness between us lasted a heartbeat before his lips collided with mine.