At one point, I thought I had something. I was searching for “Rutherford and Barclay.”
I got a few hits.
But what came up was simply the same picture, over and over again.
It was Frank Barclay and Veronica Waite Rutherford, Hayden’s father and Callum’s mother. They were standing together at some charity benefit, both holding drinks. Frank had apparently cracked some joke, and Veronica was laughing about whatever he’d said.
That was it.
Everything else I put in brought up nothing.
When I got sick of hunting down that angle, I turned back to Maria Shaw.
I didn’t understand why he’d killed her, or why he’d hidden her legs somewhere else, or any of that stuff.
Nothing made sense.
I was frustrated.
It was late, way after hours. The janitor had come by and turned off all the lights. I was working in the bright circle of my desk lamp. No one else was here anymore.
I guessed that I should go home. I had just as much access to the internet there, and that was how I was doing most of my searches. I did have access to all the old issues of The Sun-Times here, all the way back to 1924, when The Aurora Sun and The Aurora Times had merged. (And if it mattered, the old issues of The Sun went back to the 1800s, I was pretty sure. But it didn’t matter. I didn’t need information from anything that far back in time.)
I started to gather my things together. I’d go back to my apartment, and I’d do a bit more looking online, and then I’d go to sleep. And maybe I’d dream the answer. Maybe I’d figure out what all of it meant if I relaxed.
I slung my purse over my shoulder, looking around my desk to make sure that I hadn’t forgotten anything.
“Cecily.”
He was in the shadows, across the room from me, dark and hulking. He moved towards me, all muscles and black spandex.
My breath caught in my throat. I’d forgotten how powerful he looked when he moved. “Vigil.”
He caught me by the shoulders. “I didn’t know where you were. You’re hard to find these days.”
“I’m working,” I said again.
He crushed me against him, his lips coming for mine.
I put my hands on his chest, my heart banging away in my rib cage. “Wait. I’m still looking for answers when it comes to you.”
He shook his head. “This afternoon didn’t go well. But you can’t say no to me in the mask, Cecily.”
And his lips were on mine.
Resisting wasn’t even an option. He was sweet heat, pouring through my whole body, making feel lightheaded and warm. I opened my lips to him.
His tongue swept in to claim me.
I went limp in his arms, surrendering completely to him. His lips incited me, awakening my body to him.
He kissed my jaw, my neck.
I moaned.
“You’re mine,” he muttered between kisses. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I said. And I was.
His fingers found the top of the buttons on my shirt. He unbuttoned the first button.
“Wait.” I tried to push at him. It was like pushing a mountain.
He pulled back, making an irritated noise. “I want you, Cecily. You’re going to give yourself to me.”
I touched his lips. “Yes. I am.” I was. He was right that I couldn’t resist him in that damned costume. He was dark, deep sensuality. He unleashed my most secret desires. When he touched me, I felt lost. He consumed me. He controlled me. “But you have things to answer for.”
“I do?” He let go of me entirely, sounding even more annoyed.
“Yes,” I said. “And we can’t get it on in my office. Someone might come in.”
He looked around. It was dark everywhere. There was no one around. But he shrugged. “Fine.” He picked me up, swung his arms under my knees and swept me off the ground.
I let out a little startled cry.
He carried me to the elevator, set me down, and hit the button for the top floor.
The doors closed.
He stalked over to me and went back to unbuttoning my shirt.
I struggled to gather my thoughts. My breath was going shallow from his proximity. From the fact that he was undressing me. “You were with Blake.”
He undid more buttons. “She and I had a conversation about how she needed to stay away from you. And how I didn’t want to see her anymore.”
“You were alone with her in your car.”
“I didn’t want to have the conversation in public and bring more attention to the whole business with you and the article about your past,” he said. “Of course, I had no idea you were going to publish a little tell-all about it.”
“I… I thought it was better than trying to pretend it didn’t happen.”
He finished unbuttoning my shirt. He yanked it open, peering greedily at my skin, at my bra. “I have no feelings for Blake except bad ones, Cecily. Please tell me you believe that.”
I was dazed by the hungry way he was looking at me. “I believe it.”
“Good.” He pulled my shirt over my shoulders and arms. I was only in my bra now.
It wasn’t a particularly exciting bra. It was nude, and it was made of cotton. It stretched a thin layer over my skin.
He cupped one of my breasts, weighing it in his hand.
My nipple hardened instantly, and a little thrill went through me.
The elevator dinged, and the door opened.
I cried out again—startled. I grabbed my shirt off the floor, trying to cover myself.
Vigil ripped it away from me. He pulled me out into the hallway. Then he dragged me to the end, to the window.
“Where are we…?” I said softly.
He opened the window. He slid one arm around my waist, encircling me. He leaned out, shooting off on of his cords.
And then we were swinging out over the city. The sunset was deep purple against the horizon. The lights of the tall buildings winked and blinked.
My shirt fell away from us, fluttering on the breeze, down, down, down.
Vigil swung us up onto the roof. He set me down.
I let out a shaky breath. “You know, I’m never going to get used to that.”
“You think anyone will walk in on us here?” he asked in a gravelly voice.
I peered over the edge of the roof, at the distance to the ground. I shook my head.
He put his hand back on my breast. He squeezed it. “You’re beautiful,” he said in my ear.
I shut my eyes. With Vigil, it was always danger mixed with sex. I was never sure why my palms were sweating and my pulse was pounding. Was it because we’d just swung out forty stories over the city or because of his hands on me?
“Listen, Callum—”
“No. Call me the name you gave me.”
“Vigil,” I murmured.
He let out a pleased sigh. “That’s right.”
“It was hypocritical of you,” I said.
He reached behind me and unclasped my bra. He tugged it off of me. “What was?”
The night breeze hit my bare breasts. I gasped. “Being angry that I was a stripper.”
Both his hands on me, cupping my sensitive flesh. “Who said I was angry?”
I sighed at his touch. “Well, it upset you, anyway. And it was hypocritical, because you hired all those strippers to date you.”
He stroked one of my nipples. Gently pinched the other. “Cecily, I don’t see you like those girls. They didn’t mean anything to me.”
I lost myself in the sensation of his caresses for a moment. I closed my eyes, feeling jolts of delight travel down my torso to my clit.
But then I couldn’t help but ask. “The Phantom said you wanted to hurt them.”
His fingers stopped moving. “No.”
I bit my lip. “And when I asked you in the car—”
He turned me suddenly, turned me in his arms and pulled me close. Now my ass was pressed into his groin and my back was against his ch
est. One arm banded around my waist, keeping me secure against him. The other roamed over my breasts. “In the car, I don’t you not to ask me questions like that, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but…” I gulped. “But it’s kind of important for me to know.”
His voice was dark and velvet at my ear. “You told me you trusted me once when I blindfolded you. Do you remember that?”
“Yes,” I said in a small voice.
“Then trust me, baby. I would never hurt you. I would never hurt women the way he does. I promise you that.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Okay?”
“Yes.”
He loosened his grip, and he turned me around to face him again. His gaze raked my body, settling on my erect nipples. He let out a little sigh. “Oh, Cecily, you are so fucking exquisite. You have such perfect breasts. You have no idea how much I’ve missed them these past few days.”
My clit pulsed in response.
He reached out, and he ran his forefinger over one of my nipples.
I quivered.
“I can see why someone would pay to look at them.”
I shook my head. “It was never like—”
He swept in and caught the other one in his mouth. He sucked eagerly at it.
I groaned, the bliss wringing through me.
He let go and kissed his way over to my other nipple. He sucked that too. He opened his eyes and looked up at me with my flesh still in his mouth, and it was the most provocative thing I’d ever seen.
“It was never like that,” I gasped. “I didn’t… like it. I didn’t like them looking at me.”
He planted a kiss on my nipple. “You like it when I look at you.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
He pulled away from me. His voice was hoarse. “Take off your slacks.”
I unbuttoned them and slid them over my hips, letting them drop to pool around my feet.
His gaze swept me from top to bottom. I was exposed except for my tiny cotton panties. They had a pattern of little green ribbons on them. I’d selected them for comfort, not for sexiness.
He closed the distance between us. He slid seeking hands over my skin, then eased them under the band of my underwear and began to peel them over my hips.
“You’re mine, Cecily. I want to own you. I can’t help it, it just seems like you were made for me. Your body is so sweet. I can’t handle the idea that you would belong to anyone but me. So, in a minute, I’m going to have you completely naked. And then you’re going to open your legs for me, and I’m going to touch your sweet pussy, and you are going to take my cock—”
He yanked at my panties then, exposing me, and his voice got caught in his throat.
I was wet for him. I wanted him. I stood on shaky legs as he planted a kiss on the top of my mound.
I sighed.
“All of my cock,” he growled, “just like you’re good at. And you’re going to let me fuck you until you come. And come. And come.”
I let out a shuddering sigh.
He cupped my naked sex with one hand, sliding his fingers between the lips to find my clit.
I cried out as shocks of rapture reverberated through my thighs, bewildering me with their intensity.
“Shh,” he soothed. “I’ve got you.” He stroked me. “Oh, you’re so wet, baby. You want me bad, don’t you?”
“Please,” I moaned.
He stood up. He got out a condom and handed it to me. With one hand, he freed his long, thick cock. “Put that on me?”
I did, trying not to be distracted by his fingers stroking my clit, his mouth nipping my breasts.
He picked me up, holding my buttocks, and he positioned me against him.
He slid inside in one long, excruciatingly wonderful stroke.
And then he held me there, kissing me.
I wrapped my legs tight around him, writhing against him, wanting his movement. “You feel so good, Vigil,” I whispered in his ear. “I love the way you fill me up.”
He grunted.
“Fuck me,” I said. “Fuck me forever.”
“Until the end of time,” he assured me, pumping his hips and thrusting deep.
* * *
Vigil was sitting propped up against one of the large vents on the roof, and I was curled up in his lap. We were kissing.
Perhaps there had been a bit of hyperbole in saying we were going to have sex until the end of time, but it had been quite a deliciously prolonged encounter, spanning half of the roof, several different positions, and so many mind-shattering orgasms that I had lost count of them.
At the moment, I felt pleasantly exhausted and a little sore.
I lay my head on his chest. “You lost my shirt.”
“Your shirt?”
“Mmm hmm,” I told him. “It fell when we were coming out the window.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I don’t see how I’m going to get home now,” I said.
“You’ll have to go topless,” he said, lazily touching one of my nipples. I wasn’t dressed yet.
I sighed as a sleepy pleasure drifted through me. “For that matter, I don’t even know where the rest of my clothes are. They could have all blown off the roof.”
“Well, that would be a tragedy.” But it sounded as if he thought it would be anything but.
I punched him playfully. “Shut up. I need clothes to get home.”
He kissed me on the forehead. “I will swing you home from roof to roof. We’ll go so fast that no one will see your lack of clothing.”
I arched an eyebrow, not quite believing him.
“Hell, I’d swing you home with my cock buried inside you if I thought it wouldn’t be slightly distracting.”
“Right, you’d get distracted and we’d die,” I said.
“But what a way to go, right?” He grinned.
I rolled my eyes. “Let me go. I need to find my clothes.”
He tightened his grip on me. “I like you right where you are.”
“Seriously,” I said. “You have no idea what this is like. Every time we do it, you’re fully clothed except for your dick. You don’t have to worry about your clothes.”
He let go of me. “Go find your clothes.” He sounded defeated.
“Hey,” I said, my brow furrowing. “What’d I say?”
He shook his head. “I know this is a less-than-perfect way to conduct a relationship, Cecily.”
“Well…” I chewed on my lip. “It’s not like people don’t sometimes dress up in masks and costumes to have sex. They wear those leather things. I don’t remember what they’re called.”
He flinched.
“What?” I said. “I just meant that it’s not that weird.”
He got up and started over the roof, kneeling to pick up articles of my clothing.
I watched him. “Vigil?”
He came back to me, handing me my pants, shoes, underwear, and bra. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You know, there are a lot of things you don’t want to talk about.” I started to get dressed.
He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
I buttoned my slacks. “You say this is a relationship. But if we’re together like that, you have to be honest with me. I need to know.”
His jaw twitched. He looked down at his feet. “I… I can’t. I can’t talk about it. It’s too hard.”
“Tell me the connection between you and The Phantom then.” I pulled my bra back on. “Tell me something.”
He didn’t speak. He folded his arms over his chest.
“I looked and looked, trying to find something—anything—that would tell me what you two have in common. But as far as I can tell, you’ve never interacted before. So, how could you be the only person that understands him? And how do you guys know each other’s identities? And why would exposing why you wear this costume also expose The Phantom?”
“It’s a long story,” he said. “I don’t even kn
ow how I could possibly explain it.”
“You know, the only time I could even find a Rutherford and Barclay together was this picture of your mother and his father together somewhere. Some charity thing or something. It’s funny because I didn’t even know that Frank Barclay, crime kingpin, went to charity events, but I guess he was trying to put on a good face for the public. And it’s weird that they would be talking. I mean, it’s not like they traveled in the same circles.”
He swallowed hard and looked at me.
And suddenly, it clicked.
“Oh,” I said. “They were together, because…”
“Cecily, Hayden Barclay is my—”
“Brother,” I said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It was dark, and I lay in the circle of Callum’s arms, in his bed. He said this was the only place he could talk about it.
His voice was only a ragged whisper, coming to me through the darkness.
“He’s my half-brother,” he said. “We have different fathers. But Veronica Waite gave birth to both of us.”
“Veronica ‘Legs’ Waite,” I whispered in horror. “That’s the reason he cuts off their legs, isn’t it? It’s about your mother.”
“We never knew her,” he said. “You have to understand that. We only knew her through those video recordings of her on Broadway in The Phantom of the Opera. We used to watch her play Christine over and over. She was so pretty, in her white dresses that fluttered around her long, long bare legs. And we’d watch as a man in a mask came up from underground to steal her away.”
I felt the knowledge settle over me. “It’s all connected to your mother. It’s why he dresses that way.” I paused and my voice dropped another horrified octave. “It’s why you dress…”
Callum’s voice was strangled. “It’s part of it. It’s not… all of it.”
“There’s more to it than this?”
“My mother apparently started to have an affair with Frank Barclay when I was pretty young,” said Callum. “I don’t remember. I don’t know. But at any rate, she got pregnant, and when my father found out, he was furious. He kicked her out, but he wouldn’t let her take me with her. So, I was here with my father, and she was off with Frank.”
“Oh,” I said. “But that’s not public knowledge?”
“It scandalous,” said Callum. “According to Nolan, my father paid a great deal of money to shut up the press about it. He didn’t want anyone to know.”
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