by Penelope Sky
Secret
Betrothed #9
Penelope Sky
Hartwick Publishing
Secret
Copyright © 2020 by Penelope Sky
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
One
Catalina
When Heath hung up on me, I didn’t try to call back.
I didn’t know what to feel. I was relieved that I’d called Heath before it was too late, that his heart was still beating when he took my call, that he was still the strong man who looked into my eyes as if there’d never been anyone else.
But I hated myself for what I did to Damien.
My own fucking brother.
I betrayed him. I betrayed my family.
For what, exactly? For sex? For some man I vowed never to love?
I sat against the headboard with my knees to my chest, the phone beside me, the screen dark. I was too nervous to turn on the TV or open my device to read. I chose to sit in the dark and wait for any subtle sound in the hope he would approach my door any moment…safe and sound.
Then I heard it, distant and faint, the heavy footsteps of a man coming down the hallway. The only reason I noticed was because I listened for it, waited to hear the sound. There was no one else awake at this time of night, so there wasn’t any noise from my neighbors, no cars passing on the street outside my window.
Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, but I jumped out of bed and headed to the front door anyway. I unlocked all the bolts and swung the door open, hoping to see that man on my doorstep.
And he was.
He took the last few steps to my doorway, his blue eyes focused on mine, not blinking, not sharing a single thought. He didn’t seem angry, happy, anything. He was just…cold.
I was so happy to see him that tears formed in my eyes. But I had to ask something first. “Is Damien okay?”
He cocked his head slightly, as if the question offended him, as if he was annoyed I felt I had to ask at all. “Yes.”
“Thank god.” I stepped into his chest and wrapped my arms around him, my cheek moving to his heartbeat so I could feel it thump against my body. My ears could listen to it beat, listen to the way it was so slow and steady.
His hand slipped into my hair while his arm wrapped around my waist. He backed me into the apartment so we wouldn’t be in the hallway any longer. His foot kicked the door shut behind him. He held me tight in front of the door, his fingertips lightly playing with my hair as I continued to grab on to him, to feel my aching heart start to heal now that he was there in the flesh. That was the hardest decision I’d ever had to make, and now that I was deliriously relieved by his return, I realized I had made the right one.
“Let’s go to bed,” he whispered into my hairline before he released me. It was almost five in the morning, so he was probably tired after the long day and night he just had. His fingertips slid down my cheek before they finally broke contact.
Then I was cold.
He entered my bedroom and got undressed. His shirt fell to the floor along with his jeans. His phone and wallet were left on the nightstand next to the right side of the bed he had subtly claimed as his.
We got into bed, and once we were under the sheets, I snuggled into his side, my head preferring his shoulder as a pillow, my arm gripping him like he was a teddy bear and not an enormous, hard man. My leg tucked between his, and I closed my eyes, my anxious heart finally slowing down now that the worst was over.
A quiet breath escaped his lips as his fingers gently slid into my hair, his lips near my forehead. His arm moved over mine, his fingers interlocking with mine on his stomach. There was never a time when he walked through the door and didn’t want me. That was usually his only reason for coming at all. But now, sex seemed to be the last thing on his mind, either because he was too tired or just didn’t care about it at the moment.
That was fine with me. I just wanted him right now, to know he was alive at my fingertips.
I expected him to question me about what I did, to grin and make a smartass comment, to remind me that I broke my own promise just a few weeks after I made it.
But he didn’t.
I woke up to the sound of him getting out of bed.
The bed shifted then sprang back up once his weight had left the mattress. He was quiet as he left the bedroom, but his heavy footsteps became audible once he stepped onto the hardwood floor.
My hand reached for him even though I knew he was gone, and when I felt nothing but the warm sheets he’d left behind, I opened my eyes, my vision blurry, and saw that he was really gone. He told me he would never leave without saying goodbye, so the panic dispersed and I turned back to the clock on my nightstand to see the time.
It was noon.
I wanted to go back to sleep, but now that I knew he was gone, I was too uncomfortable. I went into the bathroom and washed my face and brushed my teeth before I fixed my hair and joined him in the kitchen.
He opened my cabinets and searched through my groceries until he found pancake mix. Then he opened the fridge and grabbed the almost empty carton of eggs along with the carton of milk.
I stared at his muscled back and the way his boxers hung low on his hips. His enormous arms effortlessly lifted the carton of milk that sometimes required both of my hands to lift when it was completely full. “Morning.”
He finished turning on the burners on the stove before he looked at me over his shoulder. “Hey, baby.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist and kissed his shoulder, the thick muscle that was dark with ink.
His hand reached back to grip my ass, and he kissed my hairline. “You need to go shopping. If you’re gonna have a man like me, you’re gonna have to feed him.”
“You sound like a bear.”
“Because I am.”
When I turned away, I noticed a pile of cash on the counter. “What’s this?”
“For groceries.”
I raised an eyebrow then turned back to him. “I can afford my own groceries.”
He poured the batter into the pan, the food sizzling as it cooked, and then turned back to me. “I’m the one eating everything.”
“So? You’re my guest.”
He turned to me, his good mood fading as he grew annoyed. “Take the money. That’s final.”
“That’s final?” I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow, appalled by the way he laid down the law like a dictator—in my own fucking home.
He quickly flipped the pancake before he came toward me, making me step back automatically as he cornered me between the two sets of cabinets. When there was nowhere else for me to go, he raised his arms and gripped both edges of the countertop so I really couldn’t escape. “I’m your man. I take care of you. Not the other way around.”
“I thought a partnership was equal.”
“Not with me.” He turned back to the stove and finished cooking. “How many pancakes do you want?”
I let the argument die because he really did eat a lot, and I simply didn’t have the disposable income to feed him all the time. But I was so stubborn that I wouldn’t admit that. “One is fine.”
“Grab some plates. And get these eggs ready.”
I rolled my eyes as he bossed me around, but I did as he asked. We fell into quiet harmony as we worked together, making breakfast at lunchtime. We had scrambled eggs and pancakes and left all the dirty pans on the stove as we sat together at my cheap table.
He poured syrup over his high stack of pancakes and spri
nkled pepper into his eggs. With elbows on the table, he ate like he was starving, shoveling food into his mouth with his eyes on his plate.
I only had a drop of syrup and still didn’t eat much of my meal. I had half of the pancake and picked at the eggs. I noticed I’d gained some weight since I’d started seeing Heath exclusively, from all the meals we had when I wouldn’t have eaten anything at all. It wasn’t enough to alarm me or affect my performance, but if I continued to let it happen, my outfits for the ballet would no longer fit and I would have a problem. “When are you going to invite me to your place?”
It was a four-seater cheap table, so he sat in the chair next to me, slightly turned my way. He grabbed his coffee and took a drink. “I already said you can come whenever you want. I gave you a key.” He leaned back in the chair and looked into the living room, spotting the golden key that he’d left on the table a week ago.
“I’m not you. I’m not just gonna barge in.”
“Well, you should.”
I’d been to his house once, but I only saw a small part of it. I had no idea what went on in that place, what I might walk in on. “What if I walk in there and—”
He stopped eating and gave me a fierce look. “I have nothing to hide.” His deep voice shattered the comfort of our conversation, reminding me that he was a wild bull who could rear its head at any moment. “Come and go as you please. I mean that.”
I did like this transparency, that he didn’t play games like other men. According to my friends, most men treated commitment like a disgusting disease, but Heath opened himself to me completely. “I just meant with your line of work…is that a safe place for me to be?”
His wrath diminished. “Probably the safest place in the world. I have a lot of different residences that I visit across the city, so if anyone is watching me, it’s hard to figure out where I actually live. And my homes have the highest level of protection. I’ll give you the address.” He continued to eat, placing large bites in his mouth.
“I remember where you live.”
“You saw it one time.” His eyes were on his food. “And you weren’t in the right state of mind.”
“I have a photographic memory.”
He stopped chewing for a moment, his eyes immediately flicking back to me. He finished his bite and swallowed. “Really?”
I nodded. “I can look at something once and recall it in detail for a long period of time. So, yes, I remember where you live.”
“Why didn’t you mention this before?”
I pushed aside my half-eaten plate and brought my coffee closer. “I don’t know… We don’t talk much.”
He stared at me for a while as if he was impressed, then continued to eat. “Does Damien have a photographic memory?”
“No.”
“Makes sense. You seem to be a lot more intelligent than he is.”
It was a comment I would make to my brother myself, but my eyes narrowed at the insult.
“You are. I don’t feel bad for saying it.” He finished everything on his plate when he scooped his last big bite into his mouth. “And it’s pretty hot…being with a smart woman.”
And just like that, I stopped being mad at him.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed something on a blank page before he pushed it toward me. It was a combination of eight numbers.
I looked at it. “What is that?”
“The code to the main doors.” He pulled the phone back. “Enter that into the keypad first.”
“Then what’s the key for?”
“The second security check. The code unlocks a different set of locks, but you need the key to open the final one. That way, no one can just hack in to my system.” He slipped the phone back into his pocket and continued to drink his coffee.
Now that Damien had been mentioned, I knew it was only a matter of time before Heath mentioned the events that transpired last night. But he leaned back in the chair, showing sleepy eyes and a relaxed position, like that was the last thing on his mind. His fingers were wrapped around the handle of his mug as he stared at my stove.
Maybe he wasn’t going to mention it.
My eyes roamed over his body, the body I’d touched last night. He didn’t seem to have a single scar from whatever had happened, getting out of the situation completely untouched. I just hoped Damien had met the same fate. “I think I’m gonna see him today…check on him.”
His eyes moved back to mine. “I had to hit him a couple times, but he’s fine. Minor injuries.”
“I know, but…”
“And how will you explain your visit?”
I shrugged. “I stop by to see my father all the time. It’s not unusual.”
When I mentioned my father, he looked away.
“And you’re okay?”
He stared at his coffee for a few seconds before he turned back to me, his blue eyes noticeably brighter in the morning as the sunlight came through the windows. “I’m fine, baby.” He held my gaze for a second before he turned back to his coffee and took a drink.
I hated how much I cared about him, how he softened me so quickly. It’d only been a few weeks, and I cared for him as much as I cared about my own family. How did this happen?
“I have to go.” He rose from his seat and carried the dishes to the sink.
I was disappointed, but I was also anxious to see Damien, to see that he was well with my own eyes.
He cleared my plate too but left my coffee behind before he walked into the bedroom and put on his clothes.
I hated watching him leave. It was painful every time for whatever reason.
When he returned, I got out of my chair and met him by the front door, wearing little shorts and my usual tank. I could tell his mood was different after what had happened last night, but I couldn’t determine how, couldn’t figure out how he felt about everything. I didn’t ask because I didn’t want him to ask me in return.
His hand slid into my hair, and he tilted my chin up so our gazes could lock. His large hand overtook my neck and my jawline, warm and demanding, and it was so sexy when he touched me this way, wasn’t afraid to claim me as his. “Come over tonight.”
The pain of his departure was suddenly gone, and now I wasn’t afraid of how he felt about last night. He didn’t push me away. He didn’t put up any walls. He wasn’t afraid of what my gesture meant. “Alright.”
“I should be home around seven. Come by any time after that.”
“Alright.”
He leaned down and gave me a purposeful kiss with those demanding lips, moving my mouth with his, gently pulling my bottom lip between his before he breathed into me. His hand pulled away first, and he opened his eyes to stare at me, as if he loved the look in my eyes when I kissed him.
Then he pulled away.
I let him go, paralyzed by how good that kiss was.
After he opened the door, he gave me a playful smack on the ass then headed down the hallway.
I watched him walk away like I always did, missing him more and more the farther away he was.
Two
Catalina
I joined my father for a late lunch even though I’d just eaten, sitting across from him in the dining room as the sun blanketed the floor from the windows. The warm weather of summer was still here, but it was fading fast, the days not nearly as long as they used to be. “Damien won’t be joining us?”
He shrugged as he continued to eat his salad. “Patricia said he’s busy today.”
“So, he went to work?”
“I don’t think so. He usually has coffee with me before he goes.”
That wasn’t a good sign. “I’ll stop by and say hello before I go.”
He poured more blue cheese dressing on his salad even though he clearly had enough.
“Dad.” I grabbed the dressing bottle and pulled it away. “What’s the point in eating a salad if you’re gonna drown it in dressing?”
“What’s the point in eating a salad at all?” he barked.
“Lettuce doesn’t taste like anything.” He didn’t reach for the dressing again, but he wasn’t happy about it. “Patricia is a great cook, but all this healthy shit is overrated. Every time I ask her to make me a burger, she gives me this vegan bullshit—with no cheese. What is that? She always says she’s out of real beef burgers, but I don’t buy that. Damien is running this place like a goddamn prison.”
I had a lot more respect for my brother for taking my father in. He was a sweet man, but when it came to food, he could lose his temper easily. When he lived alone, all he ate were frozen dinners and fast food. His blood pressure was through the roof, and his waistline was growing. He’d put on some weight when he first moved in with Damien. But now that he’d been here for a few months, he’d lost at least twenty pounds. “I think your son has been really generous taking you in. You have everything you need, someone to make your bed every morning and clean up after you, and your son is in the same house if you need anything.”
He seemed to be embarrassed after he heard what I said. He dropped his gaze and sighed. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I just miss eating the way I used to…”
“Well, you can’t. That’s just how it is.”
He grabbed his fork and flicked off all the extra dressing he’d added, finally complying.
I smiled. “That’s better.”
After lunch, I went to the third floor and knocked on Damien’s bedroom door.
“What?” His deep voice was full of irritation.
Geez, he was in a bad mood. He had no idea if it was Patricia or his father, and he still spoke that way.
I opened the door and poked my head inside. He sat at the dining table shirtless, his laptop in front of him, a scowl on his face. “Just wanted to stop by and say hello.”
His eyes pulled away from his screen, and he glanced at me, his fingertips resting against his lips. His expression didn’t change as he looked at me.
My eyes immediately surveyed his appearance, making sure he wasn’t seriously injured.