by Staci Hart
I slammed into a warm, Court-shaped brick wall and bounced off of him like a rubber ball. He caught me by the arms and pulled me into him, his face soft and sorry, though his brows were still drawn, framing his intense eyes.
“Listen, you impossible—”
“You were right,” he said, and the rest of my speech died in my throat. “You’re always right, do you know how irritating that is? I’m never wrong, except when it comes to you,” he rambled, his face desperate and his voice rough. “I hurt you again—I just keep hurting you—and all day, I’ve been thinking about how I could tell you I’m sorry, but I didn’t know how. Not without fucking up again, because that's all I do—hurt you and fuck up. And when I hurt you, it hurts me, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—” And then he was kissing me and kissing me, and I was breathing his sorries and holding on to him and trying to stay mad, but I just couldn’t.
He broke away and glanced around the empty hallway before dragging me to the library, dumbstruck. The second the door was closed, he pulled me back into his chest, pressed my head to his shoulder, held me like he didn’t want to lose me.
“You’re an asshole,” I managed.
“I know,” he said and kissed my hair.
“What happened?”
A sigh rose and fell against me. “I freaked out.”
“Court, you can’t just do that. You’ve got to talk to me. You’ve got to tell me your freak out so I can tell you you’re crazy and then have sex with you to distract you.”
He laughed, that sweet, happy sound I loved so much.
I leaned away to look at him. “What upset you?” I asked gently.
He looked down and shook his head. “It’s so much, so fast, Rin.”
“I know,” I said softly.
“I…I need you to know something, something I should have warned you about from the start.”
My heart stilled in my chest. I didn’t speak.
He drew a deep breath. “I will give you my body, my time, my mind. But I can’t give you my heart. I want you, and I want to be with you, but there are limits to what I can offer. I can’t ever promise you love and marriage—I can’t give you something I don’t believe in anymore. And I need you to decide if that's something you’re willing to accept.”
I looked into the depths of his eyes, searching my feelings for an answer, buried under layers of shock and surprise and disappointment.
He couldn’t give me his heart. And that was the one thing I found I wanted most of all.
Could I love him silently? Could I accept his offer—his mind, his body, his time—with the knowledge that it could be nothing more? Because I might be a fool, but I wasn’t so stupid to try to change his mind. If he said this was it, that this was all he could give me, I believed him.
He was, after all, a man of his word.
The deeper question was whether or not I could lose what I’d found, and the answer, which I found I knew to my bones, was no. I couldn’t walk away.
So I looked into his beautiful face and gave him the only answer I could. “I understand. And I'm in.”
He somehow looked relieved and even more hurt. “I mean it, Rin. I need you to promise me you’ll tell me if it’s too much. If you put your heart on the line, you have to tell me. Because I can bear so many things, but hurting you is not one of them.”
The sincerity in his eyes, in his voice, tightened my throat with emotion.
“Oh, Court,” I whispered.
“Are you sure you can do it?” he asked gently, hopefully.
And there was only one thing to do—I lied. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Relief washed over him, and he bowed his head to press a blazing kiss to my lips.
When he pulled away, I sighed, the depths of my recklessness deep and treacherous.
“We’ll have to be careful,” he said, smiling down at me, and my heart sang the opening chords to the hallelujah chorus. Because I could keep him. For now, he would be mine.
“Then we’ll be careful,” I agreed with a smile.
“I mean it. If Bianca finds out, we could both lose our jobs.”
One of my brows rose. “You think your father would fire you?”
“He might not have a choice. But I’m more worried about your internship. This is your degree, your reputation on the line. No more making out in the museum.”
“You say that like it was me,” I volleyed.
He chuckled, cupping my face. “God, you’re incredible. Do you know that?”
I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in days.
“I have a new plan,” he said.
“Oh?”
“Protect you at all costs. Even from myself.”
That emotion in my throat spread through my chest and squeezed.
He pressed his forehead to mine. “I’m sorry. I told you I’d hurt you.”
“Well, you can’t scare me off so easy.”
He laughed, leaning back to look at me. “This coming from the girl who couldn’t even look me in the eye on her first day.”
I smiled. “That was before I knew your weakness.”
His lips tilted in a sideways smile. “Oh? And what would that be?”
“My legs.”
He ran his hands down said appendages. “That’s true.”
“And my lips.”
He hummed and captured mine in his.
“My ass.”
Hands clutched the curves. “I’m doomed. You’ve got me right where you want me.” He pressed his hips into mine. “Now, what are you going to do with me?”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed, bringing us closer together. “I dunno, Dr. Lyons. I thought we were supposed to be careful.?”
He smiled. “We are. Now kiss me one more time before we both get fired.”
And I laughed and gave him what he’d asked for.
25
In the Shadows
Rin
The Met was beautiful at night.
The fundraiser dinner was in full swing, the murmur of the crowd rising up to the skylight, the lights low and romantic, painting the creamy marble statues rising from the crowd in a light golden and hazy.
It was absolutely magical.
Court and I kept a healthy distance, as we had all week. We’d become experts at ignoring each other in the office, and tonight, we’d barely spoken, which was both horribly disappointing and achingly angsty. My eyes found him every time I looked up from my clipboard, the sight of him in an elegant black suit cut to perfection, his waist narrow and shoulders and chest expansive, his thighs so cut, I could see the shadows of definition from across the room. In a black suit. In low light.
But it was his eyes that set a hot fire in my belly, eyes that touched me like a caress, that whispered to me across a crowded room, and I heard the words as if he’d spoken them aloud.
I kept myself busy, shadowing Bianca as she coordinated speeches, sending me to fetch water, extra mics, a pen, a guest. Whatever she needed, I summoned for her.
Dinner went off without a hitch, and the speeches were delivered on time and with no interruptions or technical difficulties. Court’s father spoke to the magnificence of the exhibit, the heights to which the museum would be raised, the accomplishment of acquisition and education that Court had achieved. But Court’s speech was a breathtaking look into his passion, to the pieces he’d done so much to collect, to his love of the art strictly for the sake of the art itself and his desire to share that love with every patron who passed through the halls of the museum.
Passion, barely contained, in all ways. In all things.
Except for that one pesky little muscle in his chest. The one he’d locked up, the key at the bottom of some chasm, lost forever. The one I’d do anything to find.
I’d spent the week trying not to overthink things. I did my best to go with the flow, to enjoy him while I could. I tried so hard not to read into what he said with his words and what he showed with his actions. When I was in his arms every night—because we
were together in every spare minute—it was easy. But when we were apart at work, my mind would drift, wondering over what I’d gotten myself into.
That night, I’d been too busy to think about much of anything beyond the task at hand. Bianca was even less patient than usual, so I kept my mouth shut and did her bidding as efficiently as possible. And once the major events were out of the way, she let me off my leash.
I wandered around the hall alone, winding through the crowd to appreciate some of my favorite statues, and was standing under Aphrodite when I heard his voice.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
I turned to the voice that was so much like Court’s. His father stood next to me in a beautiful tuxedo, his hands clasped behind his back and face upturned to admire the goddess of love.
“She is,” I answered as I looked up to her face. “I would have liked to see her whole.” Her nose was gone, her arms missing, broken off just under the cap of her shoulders.
“She had to be greatly restored—she was in shambles when she was found. Her legs were recast from a copy in Florence, the Venus de’ Medici, and her arms, when they were still in place, were in motion to cover her breasts and hips, as if she’d been surprised in her bath. But rather than give her modesty, they accentuated the places she wished to conceal—her sexuality.”
I listened attentively and a little uncomfortably. This was a powerful man, a man with money and influence, the man who ran the museum where I worked, the father of the man I was secretly sleeping with.
He had hurt the man I’d lost my heart to. And so, I treated him with the respect he deserved and the cautiousness he’d earned.
“I have to admit,” he started, “I’m shocked that Bartolino gave up David. I was certain that trail was dead, a waste of money and attention. But my son is nothing if not persistent. Especially when he fixates on something he wants.”
I offered him a bland smile, hoping to God there was no double meaning in his words. “It was no easy feat.”
“He hasn’t told me how he secured it, only that it was secured. I don’t suppose you have any insight?”
I laughed, hoping I sounded breezy. “Oh, I couldn’t be the one to tell that story.”
He nodded, though his lips flattened as a striking blonde sidled up next to him, slipping her arm in his.
“There you are, darling,” she cooed, her words silky and soft. “And who is this?” She turned her gaze on me, a shrewd look thinly masked by the sophisticated beauty of her face and clothes and posture.
His lips tilted in a smirk just like Court’s—it really was disturbing how alike they looked—and said, “Lydia, this is Court’s new intern.”
A spark of warning triggered at the base of my spine at the way he’d said it.
“Ah,” she said knowingly, eyeing me with newfound interest. “You’re so tall. And pretty. And how do you like working under Court?”
Discomfort wriggled through me like a bucket of worms. “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime. I’m just so grateful to be able to work here at the museum with such incredible intellect.”
She chuckled softly. “I felt that way when I curated here, too.” She squeezed Dr. Lyons’s arm.
“Miss Van de Meer went to Florence last week with Court to secure David.”
“Did she?” Lydia asked no one. “Court loves that city more than anything else in the world, even his precious statue. I’m sure that was quite a trip.”
My heart stopped.
They know. Oh my God. They know.
There was no way I’d imagined the undertone of their words, the flickering judgment in their eyes, the hard lines of their posture.
I opened my mouth to speak, though I had no idea what to say. Was I supposed to agree and confirm their suspicions or hedge or come up with something clever to deflect?
Thankfully, I didn’t have to figure it out.
Court materialized at my side, and the gravity in the room shifted, connecting the two men with the invisible force of a black hole.
“Rin, Bianca is looking for you,” he clipped, not looking at me.
I held in a sigh of relief at an escape. “I should go find her. It was nice to meet you, Lydia.”
She nodded once. “Likewise.”
And I felt all of their eyes on me as I hurried away, heart hammering and my fears spinning through my mind like a dervish.
Court
The second she was out of earshot, I leveled my father with a glare that burned from deep in my chest, my composure barely tethered.
“Leave her alone.”
Lydia chuckled, a blasé, knowing sound that held meaning. Typical, that laugh said. I turned my blistering glare on her. She at least had the decency to stop fucking smiling.
My father assessed me. “You’re sleeping with her.”
“It’s none of your fucking business,” I shot, blinded and shaking. “Don’t talk to her. Don’t look at her. Leave. Her. Alone.”
He turned to Lydia. “Go,” he commanded.
“But—” she started.
“I said, go.” The command brooked no argument, and properly chided, she drew herself up to her full height and gave us her back. He turned his discerning gaze on me. “Quite the mess you’ve made. Again.”
“I didn’t make that mess,” I growled, jerking my chin in the direction Lydia had gone. “That was all you.”
“It wasn’t all me.”
I stepped into him. “Don’t fucking play with me. Leave Rin alone.”
I wheeled around to leave, but he grabbed me by the arm. I stopped, turning very slowly, my eyes on the place where his hand clamped my bicep. And when I looked up at him, it was with warning he heeded, releasing me.
“She’s trouble, just like Lydia was,” he said. “Leave her alone, Court. It will only come back to haunt you.”
I leaned in, squaring my shoulders at him. “Fuck you.” And with my body vibrating like a live wire, I turned on my heel and bolted.
My eyes scanned the crowd for her, telling myself he was wrong. She was different. She wouldn’t hurt me, she wouldn’t lie, she’d never…ever—
I caught sight of her standing near the edge of the crowd, and I wound through the people, not even seeing Bianca until she spoke.
“Court, I was looking for you. I—”
“Not now,” I growled, leaving her behind me.
Rin saw me approach, and her brows knit together with concern.
“Court, are you okay? What—”
I snagged her wrist and kept walking, dragging her behind me. “Come with me.”
I pulled her out of the hall and through another, weaving my way through the museum until we were far from the crowd and alone in a room of towering statues, my heart pounding in the silence, my chest heaving as it tried to contain the thumping, aching muscle.
“Court, stop. Tell me what—”
I whirled her around, pressed her against the tall platform, covered her mouth with mine, kissed her long and deep and desperately.
She won’t hurt me. She won’t.
Our lips slowed, then stopped, and I broke away, nuzzling her neck.
“They know, don’t they?”
I laid a soft kiss on her neck. “They don’t know anything for certain. But they suspect.”
She sighed. “We’ve got to be more careful, Court. We can’t—”
“Well, well, well.”
I whirled around at the sound of Bianca’s voice, putting Rin behind me as if I could protect her. As if I could make her disappear. As if I could save her.
Bianca was furious, her face pink and jaw set, her eyes hurt and flashing with jealousy and anger. “I cannot believe I was actually right. I didn’t want to be, you know.”
“Careful, Bianca,” I ground out, cold everywhere but for the burning rage in my ribs.
Bianca fumed, lasering on me. “I cannot believe you would do something this stupid. And with her.”
“What I do on my own time is none of you
r business.”
“How about on the museum’s time? At a fundraiser? In the office? On a company trip? It’s so obvious, Court. I just want to know, why her? For two years, we have spent every day together, and all I wanted was for you to see me, to recognize how good we could be if you’d give me a chance. I thought it would finally happen in Florence, that’s how dumb I am. And then she came and ruined everything. And your father said—”
“My father? Who you’ve been talking to behind my back?”
She blanched.
I rose like a hurricane. “We were never going to be together. Not only do you spy for my father, but you’re just as transparent as the rest of them. Did you think I didn’t know? Because I knew exactly what you wanted, which is exactly why you’ll never get it.” The storm in my rib cage raged. “I’ll give you a choice, Bianca. Either you keep this to yourself or I will not only fire you, but I’ll make sure your next job doesn’t make it out of the Corn Belt. If this comes back on Rin in any way, if anything happens to her because of something you said, I will pull the trigger. Do you hear me?”
Her lips drew together, her chest rising and falling and eyes bouncing between mine for a long moment. “I hear you, but you’re not the only Lyons around here with leverage. Give me a damn good reason to stick around, or she’s gone.”
I restrained myself against the urge to stop her—I didn’t trust myself—and I let her storm out, the sound of her heels echoing off the stone. And when she had finally gone, I lowered my face to my hand, pressing my fingers to my eyes, to my temples, imagining how much worse things could get.
Rin’s hand rested on my back like an anchor, though it did little to tether me.
“What are we going to do?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out,” I answered, wishing I believed the words.
Hours later, we were tucked away in my car on the way to my place. Then, we were in my bed, and I was in her arms.
And I had underscored my plan in black ink: protect Rin.
We had to be careful—even more careful than we had been—and I had to decide what to do with Bianca. But more than anything, I needed to believe that everything would be all right. That I could fix this. Because I couldn’t lose Rin, not like this.