Wilde for Him (A Wilde Series Novel)

by Janelle Denison

  Clearly in shock at the realization that she’d been shot, she swayed on her high heeled shoes, tried to step back, but instead collapsed to the sidewalk, her purse and briefcase scattering around her as she lay there, staring up at the sky with wide, startled eyes.

  The squeal of tires told Ben that Jason had taken off, and he dropped to his knees beside Christine to assess the situation, his mind reeling and his chest tightening with the effort to keep his own panic at bay.

  “Oh, my God, oh, my God!” Madison said hysterically as she ran up to them. “Is she alright?”

  Ben didn’t know, and his stomach cramped at the thought of anything happening to Christine. Of losing yet another person he’d come to care for. “Call 911!” he barked out, trying to shake some sense into Madison. “Get an ambulance here now!”

  “Already done!” Someone else said from nearby, making Ben vaguely aware that a small crowd was starting to form around Christine on the sidewalk.

  “Stay with me, sweetheart. You’re going to be just fine.” It wasn’t a promise he had the right to make, but he refused to think differently.

  She glanced up at him with pain-filled eyes then opened her mouth to speak, but only a croak of sound escaped her.

  “Don’t talk,” he said softly, though his own voice shook with fear. “You’ve been shot.” Twice. But that wasn’t something she needed to know or hear at the moment.

  Because one of the bullets had hit her so close to the stomach, which could prove to be a life-threatening injury if she bled out, he knew he had to staunch the flow of blood until medical help arrived. With hands that were less than steady, he managed to unbutton her blouse and pull it away from the right side of her waist. He gently ran his fingers over the spot that was covered in bright red blood, searching for a wound… but couldn’t find one.

  What the hell?

  Christine winced and moaned as he probed the welt forming on her skin, assuring him that she had been struck with something. Frowning in confusion, he pulled his hand away and rubbed the thick, sticky substance between his fingers. It didn’t feel thin and slick like fresh blood, and as took a whiff of the wetness on his fingers, he inhaled the distinct chemical scent of paint.

  Un-fucking-believable. Jason had shot her with a paintball gun, not a real, authentic assault rifle. The relief that poured through Ben was so profound, he felt a well of emotion rise up into his throat and he dropped his head forward to give himself a private moment to gather his composure. Other than being sore and bruised, she was going to be okay.

  He exhaled a deep breath and met Christine’s gaze. “Jason shot you with a paintball gun,” he said once he was back in control again.

  Her eyes flashed with fire and anger, letting Ben know that she really was okay. “It hurts.”

  “It’ll definitely hurt like hell for a while and you’ll be bruised in those areas, but there doesn’t appear to be any permanent damage. But I’m still going to have you checked out just to make sure.” He grabbed her hand and gently pulled her upright. “Come on, let’s get you back into your office until the paramedics and police arrive.”

  He helped her up the rest of the way, wrapped an arm around her waist, and led her back to The Main Event. Madison grabbed Christine’s purse and briefcase, along with Ben’s computer bag, and just as they stepped back into the reception area, the sound of multiple sirens in the distance grew louder, until an ambulance and two squad cars arrived.

  Moments later, the paramedics were hovering over Christine by the couch, taking her vitals and checking the welts on her abdomen and shoulder. Three police officers took Ben aside, and after he explained what had happened, and who had assaulted Christine, two of the policemen went back outside to take statements from the people who’d witnessed the attack.

  The officer who’d stayed behind assured Ben that there would be an immediate warrant issued for Jason’s arrest. Combined with his recent transgressions against Christine, Ben knew that there would be no chance of bail for Jason this time around, and that he was looking at some serious jail time down the road for this latest attack and for breaking the terms of the restraining order once again.

  Knowing that Jason would be behind bars for a while was fine with Ben. Between his blackmail attempts toward Nathan Delacroix and his aggression toward Christine, the man was a menace and a threat and needed some serious help.

  Ben was just glad to know that once Jason was arrested, Christine would be safe on her own again.

  Bundled up in her favorite fleece robe and hands wrapped around a warm mug of chamomile tea, Christine glanced over at Ben, who was sitting in the single chair in her living room, which was too far away from where she sat, as they listened to the evening news speculate on the outcome of tomorrow’s election.

  Ever since they’d arrived back home after the paramedics had released her and the police had finished questioning her about Jason, Ben had been quiet and even a bit distant. After making a call to her parents to give them the latest news and reassuring them that she truly was okay, she and Ben had eaten dinner, and she’d taken a long, hot shower to help ease the soreness in her shoulder and abdomen where bruises were already forming. Then they’d settled in the living room to watch a few shows together, and any attempt at conversation with Ben resulted in a go-nowhere kind of answer from him.

  It was frustrating and aggravating, and she was pretty certain she knew where his isolated mood was stemming from. Now that she was privy to what had happened to Kim, and how Ben blamed himself for not being able to keep her safe, she had a feeling that he was berating himself for letting Jason get close enough to hurt her.

  And that mentality of Ben’s frustrated the heck out of her. “What happened today wasn’t your fault,” she said, figuring they were better off getting it all out in the open, instead of letting him stew on it all night long.

  He glanced at her, his eyes revealing nothing. “I know that. I didn’t pull the trigger on that paintball gun.”

  There was the slightest edge of sarcasm to his voice, which she didn’t appreciate. “Let me rephrase my comment. It wasn’t your fault that you weren’t able to get me out of the way before Jason shot me.”

  His jaw clenched. “I’m your bodyguard, Christine. My job is to protect you at all costs. I should have taken both of those shots for you. What if it had been a bullet instead of just paint in that rifle?”

  “There are no ‘what ifs’, Ben,” she said, her annoyance mounting. “It wasn’t a bullet. I’m okay. You’re good at what you do, but shit happens sometimes.”

  He had no reply to that. Instead he rubbed at his forehead, looking tired and weary. “The good news is, the police have Jason back in custody, so at least that’s one less thing for you to worry about.”

  She took a sip of her tea, letting it warm her all the way down to her belly. “You really think he was the one behind the threats and blackmail attempts toward my father?”

  “He had every motive,” Ben said confidently. “He had an irrational grudge against you, and he obviously wanted to ruin your father’s chance at winning the election since your dad killed Jason’s political career—not that Jason didn’t deserved to be ostracized for embezzling campaign funds. Hopefully, they’ll nail his ass and he’ll be spending enough time in prison to sober him up and make him reassess the direction of his life.”

  “Yeah, that would be nice,” she agreed, and finished off her tea. “By the way, I think I’m going to take it easy tomorrow and work from home after I go out and vote. My shoulder and stomach feel really tender, and I’d rather be here for the day, than at the office.”

  He nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

  Exhausted after the day she’d had, she stood up and took her empty mug to the kitchen, then returned to the living room, switching off lights as she went.

  “Are you ready to call it a night?” she asked Ben.

  He looked at her, his gaze uncertain, and still way too withdrawn. “I really don’t think it’s a
good idea for us to do anything tonight.”

  She rolled her eyes. “The last thing on my mind right now is sex,” she fibbed, knowing she could be persuaded very easily when it came to Ben. “I want to go to bed and sleep. With you. I promise not to take advantage of you in any way whatsoever, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  That prompted a smile to quirk the corner of his mouth. “Now that’s a relief,” he teased, a semblance of his old self emerging once again. Standing, he took her hand and led the way back to her bedroom.

  Christine was grateful that he’d given in to her request. With their days together numbered, she didn’t want to be alone tonight. She wanted to feel the warmth of his body against hers all night long, and wake up cuddled in his arms. She wanted to enjoy all the special intimacies she’d grown used to sharing with him over the course of the past few weeks.

  Because too soon, she knew she’d be back to being alone and on her own, and that was something her heart wasn’t ready to face just yet.

  The day seemed to fly by in a flash. Between watching news reports on the election, fielding calls from Madison at the office, finalizing details on an upcoming sports banquet she’d been hired to plan and coordinate, and numerous calls from her annoyed mother, six o’clock in the evening arrived much sooner than Christine realized.

  After yesterday’s incident with Jason, her shoulder and side felt battered and bruised, and it was difficult to lift her arm or twist at the waist without groaning or wincing from the aching pain. She might not have been shot with a real bullet, but Jason had definitely left a lasting impression on her body.

  Done working for the day, she shut down her computer and cleaned up her office at home, then made her way into the living room where Ben was sitting in the arm chair watching the evening news. She glanced at the TV screen, saw the percentages of votes between each candidate, and felt her stomach tumble anxiously. Considering that there was no clear-cut winner yet, she could only imagine how her father was doing at the moment.

  “Good Lord, this has become a nail-biting election,” she said, and sat down on the side of the couch that was closest to Ben’s chair.

  “We did our part,” Ben replied, and smiled at her. “Now it’s up to the rest of the state to vote for the right guy. And that would be your father.”

  She crossed her fingers and held them up for Ben to see. “Here’s hoping.”

  Ben was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Is everything okay between you and your mother?”

  He must have overheard her many conversations with her mother today, not all of them pleasant, unfortunately. “Is it ever?”

  Laughter glimmered in his golden brown eyes. “Not from what I’ve seen.”

  She settled more comfortably into the corner of the couch, and curled her jean clad legs up under her. “According to my mother, I’m going to make some man a horrible wife.”

  He lifted a dark brow. “Why? Because you’re not at the campaign office, physically supporting your father?”

  “Yes.” Boy, he knew her mother better than she’d realized. Then again, she’d shared enough with Ben for him to easily nail Audrey’s controlling, demanding personality. “I’ve talked to my father a few times today, and I sent him some flowers to let him know I’m thinking of him, but my mother insists that I should be there, that we show a united front as a family, especially when my father makes his acceptance speech.”

  “And?” Ben asked, obviously knowing there was more.

  She bit her bottom lip, still unable to believe just how bold she’d been in her response—or how good it had felt to stand up for herself. “I don’t think she appreciated me telling her it’s her job to stand beside my father and pretend to be the doting wife. I don’t need to be there, and considering what happened yesterday with Jason, my father completely understands why I’m not.”

  “Pretend to be the doting wife?” he repeated, his incredulous tone telling her that he couldn’t believe that she’d actually said those exact words.

  “Well, it’s the truth,” she said softly, wishing that things were different between her mother and father – that their marriage was based on love and respect instead of what her father’s political career did for her mother’s social standing in Chicago. “The voting public might not have a clue, but I know it, she knows it, and my father knows it.”

  He nodded in understanding, let the topic go, and so did she.

  As they continued to watch the news in silence, her stomach rumbled hungrily, reminding her that they needed to eat dinner. “What do you say we order in pizza tonight?” she asked. She wasn’t in the mood to cook or leave the house to go to a restaurant.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  She went to the kitchen, looked up the number for pizza delivery, and ordered a pepperoni with extra cheese. As she walked back into the living room, she remembered something she’d meant to tell Ben.

  “Craig called earlier to see if I needed a ride to my party at Envy tomorrow night,” she said as she sat back down on the couch.

  A spark of irritation lit Ben’s gaze at the mention of the other man’s name. “And what did you tell him?” he asked gruffly.

  She wanted to smile at the territorial look in his eyes, as well as point out to Ben that bit of possessiveness he’d just displayed, but knew it wasn’t something he wanted to hear when he’d spent the past twenty-four hours trying to establish new boundaries between them that leaned more toward friends than lovers. Still, she couldn’t help but harbor a shred of hope that he’d give them a chance beyond this assignment of his.

  She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and put Ben out of his misery. “I told Craig that you’d be taking me.”

  Ben smirked. “I’ll bet that thrilled the pants off of him.”

  He’d definitely been disappointed, and had even admitted to her that he’d been secretly hoping that things wouldn’t work out with Ben so she’d be free for the birthday bash he’d planned for her. She wasn’t quite sure how to take that comment, and had chalked it up to male jealousy on Craig’s part. His curt remark was also the deciding factor for her to break as many ties to Craig as possible after tomorrow night. As much as she appreciated his contacts, she didn’t need them, and she didn’t want to feel obligated to him in any way whatsoever when she knew Craig had feelings for her—feelings that she didn’t, and wouldn’t ever, reciprocate.

  “You know,” Ben said casually, drawing her attention back to him. “I still find it odd that Craig is so intent on pursuing you when his father is so in favor of backing Charles Lambert for governor. It just feels like such a conflict of interest to me. Does Craig not share his father’s political views, especially on the whole gentrification issue?”

  The subject had been brought up between her and Craig, and she knew his thoughts on the matter. “Actually, Craig is in favor of tearing down the lower west side and rebuilding the area, especially since his father’s development company would be hired for the project if Lambert wins. But Craig’s relationship with his dad has been strained for years because Craig didn’t go to work for Crosby’s development company, and Craig’s been trying to get back into his father’s good graces ever since.”

  Ben shook his head. “Another dysfunctional family saga, huh?”

  “Every family has their issues,” she said, certain it was true.

  Their dinner arrived, and they ate their pizza while watching the election coverage on TV. By nine o’clock that evening it was announced that Charles Lambert had won the election by a six percent margin, and would be the new governor of Chicago.

  Shocked and disappointed, Christine immediately picked up the phone and called her father, who was doing okay despite the loss. He’d fought a good, fair fight, and that was all he could do.

  Then came Nathan Delacroix’s concession speech, which was aired on a local channel. He congratulated Lambert on his win, but also promised to continue his fight to help the lower west side of Chicago on other political
levels. Audrey stood not by his side, but behind him, clearly unhappy over the loss.

  When the news switched over to Charles Lambert’s campaign office where his staff was celebrating his victory, Ben stood up and headed down the hallway toward the back rooms. Christine watched him go, an uneasy sense of foreboding settling in the pit of her belly.

  Quietly, she followed him and came to a stop in the doorway of the guest bedroom, where Ben had his duffle on the bed and was putting his personal things into the bag. Her heart seemed to lodge in her throat and it took her a moment to speak.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, hating the thought of him leaving. Over the past few weeks, he’d become such a daily part of her life—one she’d come to anticipate and enjoy.

  “I’m just packing up the bulk of my things,” he said, not looking at her.

  She watched him pull out a small stack of neatly folded t-shirts from one of the dresser drawers and tuck them into his duffle bag. Then he finally turned around to face her, looking so sexy and gorgeous and closed off that her chest hurt.

  “I still have to talk to your father in the morning, but considering that Jason is behind bars, and unfortunately your father just lost the election, I’m sure Nathan will release me from this security assignment and I’ll be leaving soon.”

  There were so many more reasons for him to stay, but she could see by his determined expression, along with the reserved behavior he’d exhibited all day long, that his feelings on the issue were already made up. She’d learned enough about Ben to know that arguing those points with him when he was in such a stubborn frame of mind would be futile.

  Knowing she still had tomorrow night with him, for now she let it go. He’d promised to take her to Envy to celebrate her twenty-seventh birthday, and afterward, there was only one gift she wanted from Ben—and she planned to ask for it.