Taming Lily

by Monica Murphy

  Another gasp. Like I could shock her with my language. Give me a break. “Don’t give me that ma’am shit. We’re practically the same age.”

  Christ. So that’s what gets to her? And I’d bet money she’s a solid ten years older than me. “I’m trying to be respectful.” My mama raised me right, but this woman … she makes it hard to show her even an ounce of respect. “You’ll hear from me later tonight,” I tell her just before I end the call.

  I swear I hear her sputter in protest right before the phone goes silent, and I wait for a return call or text but nothing comes.

  Thank God.

  I go back to my hotel room and order room service, a hamburger and a boatload of fries along with a beer. With a thirty-minute wait ahead of me, I kick back on the bed and scroll through the photos on my phone.

  The photos I snapped of Lily.

  There are a few covert shots of her on the plane. The photos are bad. Out of focus, quickly taken in the hopes no one would notice me. I tap my phone’s screen and zoom in on her profile, studying it. The slant of her forehead, the shape of her nose, those sexy full lips. She looks on edge, a little nervous.

  Vulnerable.

  I swipe my finger again and again, passing through the photos, stopping at the one I caught of her in her cabana. She’s sitting up, staring out at the ocean. Her lips are parted, the giant sunglasses she’s wearing shading most of her pretty face, her shoulders straight, the strings of her bright pink bikini curling around her neck. I zoom in on this photo, too, checking out her breasts like some sort of pervert, admiring how they strain against the triangles of her top. My skin tightens, my dick twitches, and everything within me goes hot.

  Shit.

  Tossing my phone onto the bed, I run a hand through my hair, irritated. I need to get over this … woman. She’s a distraction. I have a job to do. I can’t afford to let lust get in the way of it. My client … she’s a bitch on wheels. She’d have zero qualms about ruining me if I fail in my mission. She basically told me so when we first met. She’d tried to flirt and when I didn’t respond, she went cold as ice.

  A total viper.

  Not that I’d let this woman scare me, but … fuck. I don’t want to risk it. I need this job. I’ve lost everything once already. I threw my military career away all because of my fucked-up issues. I can’t afford to do something like that again.

  I grab my phone once more and look at the last photo I took of Lily. Of her walking down the beach, headed into the water. Her hair blows in the breeze like golden silk. She’s wearing hardly anything and I can’t help but admire the graceful curve of her back, the perfection of her ass. Pert and round, each cheek an ample handful. Within days, that ass will be mine.

  Just not in the way I really want it to be.

  chapter four

  Lily

  “WELL, WELL, YOU’RE ALIVE,” Rose greets me, sounding extra grumpy. “I hope you know I’ve been worried sick. In fact—”

  I cut her off before she can get another word in. “I need you to promise you won’t tell anyone that you talked to me.”

  She pauses, and I can hear her suck in a harsh breath. “Why?”

  “No questions. Promise me, Rose.” My voice is as firm as my resolve. If she can’t promise, I’m ending this call. And I won’t call her again until I’m back in Manhattan.

  Not sure when that’s going to happen, though.

  “I can’t tell Violet?” she asks. “She’s worried, too. I don’t want to keep secrets from her.”

  “Especially not Violet.” She’d have no problem continually calling me, wearing me down until I have to answer. And then she’d most likely heap on the guilt, and that’s the last thing I want to deal with. “No one else can know where I am.”

  “But why? Are you in hiding or what? The gossip sites have been wondering where you’ve disappeared to.” Another pause. “And what about Caden? I tell him everything. He’s the last person I can keep a secret from.”

  I want to roll my eyes but don’t. Besides, the effort would be wasted because no one can see me. Of course she tells her husband everything. They’re so close, so madly in love and wrapped up in their own little world.

  And I’m all alone in my hotel suite, my hand patched up and wrapped tightly, a little high on pain medication. Talk about a shitty start to my so-called vacation. “Not even Caden. I’m trusting you, baby sister. Only you, so I need you to promise.”

  “Fine.” She sighs, sounding completely put out. “I promise.” Her voice is small and I feel a twinge of guilt for putting her through this.

  But then I push right past it.

  “Okay, good. I’m calling to let you know I’m all right. I got your texts and I know you were worried but I swear, everything’s fine. I’ll be home soon,” I tell her in a rush of words.

  I can’t admit the real reason I called her. That I was scared when I came to after I passed out—something I don’t really remember even doing—and found myself lying on the beach, two medics hovering above me and checking my pulse, cleaning my wound and making me yelp in pain. I was so disoriented and scared and I had no one. Absolutely no one to stand by my side and reassure me that everything was going to be all right.

  I was alone. I didn’t even have my mystery rescuer to help me out. He’d ditched me the minute I passed out, I guess. The hotel employee didn’t catch his name; he had no idea who he was and neither did I.

  They put me in an ambulance and took me to a nearby hospital despite my weak protests. Luckily I didn’t need stitches, just a few butterfly bandages to keep the gash closed and my hand wrapped in white gauze and a weird fishnet-looking covering that kept everything in place. They put me on antibiotics and pain meds, filling the prescriptions right there in the hospital pharmacy before they sent me on my merry way.

  It had been a terrifying experience. So horribly real, when I rarely, if ever, have to deal with the real world. It’s as if I’ve lived my entire life playing pretend and when shit finally got ugly and I couldn’t run, as per my usual mode of operation, I didn’t know how to handle it.

  That’s why I reached out to Rose. I needed to hear her voice, needed her to ground me and remind me that I do have someone I can count on.

  And right now that person is also super pissed at me.

  “You’re damn right I was worried. I know you’ve done this sort of thing before, just … taking off on a whim and not telling anyone, but you haven’t answered my texts for days,” she says, stressing the last word.

  I hold in the sigh that wants to escape. She’s exaggerating, something she’s really good at. “It’s only been a couple of days,” I point out.

  “It felt like longer. I cried last night, Lily. I didn’t know where you were, my hormones are all over the place and Caden held me, trying his best to console me while I cried over you.”

  And I thought Violet would lay on the guilt. “You’re not even an official mother yet and look at you. Making me feel like shit for not contacting you sooner.”

  “I am an official mother, even if this baby isn’t born yet,” she says with a huff. “So yeah. If I want to make you feel guilty, I have every right to do so. And just to let you know, Violet’s been beside herself, too. I can’t believe you won’t let me tell her you called.”

  “You absolutely cannot tell her,” I reiterate, my voice firm. I’m going all mean-big-sister on her and I don’t care. I have to protect myself. “She might mistakenly tell Daddy, and then the shit would really hit the fan.”

  “What does it matter if he knows? What’s he going to do? Demand you come back home? You’re a grown woman—you can do whatever you want.”

  Yeah, all while spending Daddy’s money. Well, it’s my money, too. All three of us have our own trusts, but at least Violet works for Fleur. And Rose used to. Not me, though. I’m the lazy sister. “Maybe,” I say, my voice faltering. He’s not the one I’m worried about finding out where I am.

  It’s Pilar that I’m hiding from. And I ca
n’t tell Rose that. Then she’ll start asking questions. Questions I can’t answer.

  Correction: more like questions I don’t want to answer.

  “Are you at least going to tell me where you are?” she asks softly. “And when exactly are you coming back home?”

  “It’s best you don’t know. And I’m not sure.” I lean my head back into the pillows and close my eyes, exhaustion settling over me. Maybe it’s the pain meds or the antibiotics. Maybe it’s the scary adrenaline-filled rush I went through from the day’s events. All I know is that I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the need to take a long nap.

  “Oh, come on! Why are you being so mysterious?” Rose is yelling. And she never yells, not really.

  “Rose, it’s …” I can’t tell her what I did. Hacking into someone else’s life and then trying to mess with it. And I’m not just talking about Pilar, either—there are other people involved, not just her. “It’s complicated,” I say lamely, bracing myself for another outburst.

  But one doesn’t come.

  I remember the last conversation I had on the phone and how much it freaked me out and spurred me into action. The minute I hung up I grabbed my suitcase and threw in my clothes, booked my ticket to Maui and got the hell out of there. I was scared. When I think about it, I’m still scared. I want to tell Daddy what I found but I’m afraid he won’t believe me. I’m the little girl who cried wolf one too many times in his eyes. He’d believe whatever that slut Pilar had to tell him before he’d consider listening to me.

  “I know we all have our secrets,” Rose says, sounding much calmer. “We all have something to hide. The longer you hide those secrets, though, the more they’ll consume you. And eventually strangle you.”

  I remain quiet, absorbing her words. Since when did my baby sister become so wise?

  “Just think about that. I’m always here for you. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be ready to listen,” she says.

  Tears threaten and I squeeze my eyes shut harder, willing them to retreat. I refuse to cry. I’m not a crier; I never have been. I laugh away my pain. It’s easier that way.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice raspy, and I swallow hard. I wish I could tell her. But not yet. If I say something now, I could be crying wolf again. This could all fizzle out and be forgotten.

  Probably not. But stranger things have happened.

  “Lily, please …” Her voice drops and I know she’s dying for me to say something, reveal a little piece of anything so her curiosity is appeased. I know she worries.

  I shake my head and sniff. “Don’t push, Rosie.”

  She practically growls when I call her that and I start to laugh. “You’re so stubborn,” she mutters.

  “Takes one to know one,” I throw back at her, and we both start to laugh. I’m so thankful for the change in conversation she has no idea.

  “Tell me how you’re feeling,” I say before she can try and get something else out of me.

  “I’m fine. Just sick of feeling nauseous. This baby is mean.”

  “Sure. You’re going to love and spoil that baby so much when he or she is born,” I remind her, relieved that we’re talking about the baby. My chest warms and the tears fade. I’m filled with a sense of peace at the thought of becoming an aunt in the near future.

  A baby to hold and love—and then hand back to Rose when the little munchkin starts fussing or becomes stinky. It’s the perfect situation. I can love on a baby but it’s not my baby.

  “I think it’s a boy.” Rose’s voice drops lower. “I hope it is. I want a sweet baby boy who’s handsome like his daddy.”

  “Gag,” I tell her, making her giggle. “Get over your man. He’s just all right.”

  “Whatever, you jealous hag.”

  She’s teasing me. We’ve called each other far worse, but there’s something about her words that hurts. Cuts me straight across the heart.

  Maybe because what she’s saying isn’t too far from the truth.

  “I didn’t know getting married would turn you into such a bitch,” I jab right back.

  “Please. You’d better clean that potty mouth before your nephew is born. I’ll have to bust out the swear jar,” she threatens. “Between you and Caden, the child’s ears will burn from all the cursing.”

  “Give me a break. You’re no saint.”

  We continue on like this for another ten minutes and it feels good. Normal. I don’t feel so lonely, holed up in my hotel room in the middle of a tropical island, hopped up on pain medication and depressed.

  The phone call comes to a halt when Caden arrives home, though. I can hear his deep voice, hear him ask how she’s feeling, and then everything becomes muffled because he’s kissing her. He’s kissing her and she’s enjoying every minute of it and I can hear their little murmurs of love and my heart lurches. It feels like it’s going to leap out of my chest and run off in a jealous rage, which is the stupidest thing ever, but there you have it.

  Long after we hang up, long after I take another dose of pain meds and crawl into bed in nothing but my panties, wincing when I try and pull up the comforter with my injured hand like an idiot, I stare at the ceiling and ponder over all the mistakes I’ve made in my life so far. There are a lot of them. A ton.

  And I wonder if I can ever find even a glimmer of what my sisters have.

  chapter five

  Max

  SHE’S AT THE POOL.

  That long, sleek body is stretched out like an offering to the sun. Mirrored aviators cover her eyes, which should look ridiculous on her but somehow she makes them sexy.

  Lily Fowler has a way of making everything sexy.

  She’s completely on display, surrounded by people and not hiding in her private cabana like yesterday, allowing me to watch her blatantly. Her hand is wrapped from her mishap in the ocean, and I’m glad to see she doesn’t look too banged up. Considering what she went through, I figured there would be a few bruises and scrapes, but I don’t see a mark on her beyond the wrapped hand.

  In other words, she’s fucking flawless.

  There’s so much skin on display, I don’t know where to look first. The bikini she’s wearing is a joke, a strapless scrap of brightly covered fabric that barely contains her full breasts. Her dark blond hair is piled on top of her head in a messy topknot, loose, silky strands teasing her elegant neck, the smooth slope of her shoulders on display, her skin turning golden from the sun. She shifts her legs, drawing my attention, making me wish I were sitting right next to her, touching her …

  Memories from yesterday hit me like rapid fire. Diving into the ocean after her without thought, without concern that she’ll figure out who I am. A risky move, it reminds me now of how I used to be when I was in the military. How that abrupt, spontaneous behavior got me into trouble more times than I can count. Most of the time those moments worked out, but when they didn’t …

  I failed spectacularly.

  But seeing her tumble in the waves like a rag doll, her arms and legs flailing, the look of pure panic on her face, I knew I was doing the right thing by going in after her. Somehow I fought against the waves and grabbed her, pulling her above the surface in seconds. I’d been fucking grateful to hear that first big gasp of air, just before she started to cough.

  Scary, but at the same time the entire experience had been exhilarating. I might have saved her life. It wasn’t the first life I’ve saved but it felt damn good to come to her rescue, and I hadn’t rescued anyone in a long time. What if I hadn’t seen her? What if I hadn’t got to her in time?

  She could have drowned.

  Once the terror and adrenaline had lessened its hold on me, I realized just how soft she felt in my arms. I pressed my hand and splayed my fingers on her trembling stomach and couldn’t help but notice the way her curves nestled perfectly against me. And then she turned her head and saw my face. Looked right into my eyes and recognized me just before she fainted.

  Big mistake on my part, letting her see me. Huge. S
he passed out within minutes of saying something, though, so she probably doesn’t remember.

  At least, I hope she doesn’t remember. It’s pointless to relive those moments from yesterday and worry about her reaction, because what’s done is done. I can only hope it all works out in the end.

  I try my best not to look at her but it’s impossible. I’m drawn to her, and not just because she’s my assignment. Feeling like this … letting my attraction to her distract me is risky. Stupid.

  But I can’t seem to help it.

  Returning my gaze to her, I watch as she lifts her arms to grip the back of the lounger, the position thrusting out her chest. I can see her nipples pressing against the thin fabric that covers them and I swear my mouth is watering. The way she’s sitting, she’s going for the bored look but she seems restless. Uneasy. I wonder what’s bothering her.

  I’d love to go to her but there’s no way that I can. Not yet. Hell, it’s like I can’t even move. All I can do is stare.

  She’s so fucking beautiful it almost hurts to look at her. Her nonchalant pose isn’t working. Her entire body is tense. She’s on high alert. Why? What has her so on edge? She’s on the run, so maybe it’s getting to her. The relaxing setting of this Hawaiian resort isn’t doing its job. Maybe she feels the need to run some more.

  Frowning, I rub the back of my neck, peering at her over my sunglasses, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling bleeding through me. My instincts are usually spot on and over the years, I’ve honed them. Learned to trust them. This girl … she’s giving me a vibe and it’s not a good one. She looks ready to make a run for it.

  And I can’t lose sight of her. Not now. It was a lucky break that my client knew Lily bought the plane ticket to Maui. How she did that, I’m still not sure, but I’m not one to ask questions when it’s none of my business.

  The late afternoon sun is intense and I grab the iced tea I ordered earlier, chugging most of it before I set the glass onto the small table beside me. A shadow falls across my legs and I glance up, my entire body going still when I see who’s standing in front of my lounge chair.