The window flies open. “Shut up, you cheater!”
“I am not engaged to that troll, Elle. And you ought to be ashamed for even believing that.”
“I saw the wedding invitations!”
“That’s because my dad is psycho. I told you that. But did you listen to me? Did you trust me? No! You just march over there and fucked with things you don’t understand, all because you think you’re smarter than everyone else. Well, I have news for you, Elle. You do not know everything! But you sure as hell know how to ruin a good relationship and piss me off!”
I turn and head for my truck, hoping to Christ I don’t lose it and punch something like a tree trunk, because, man! I am pissed. That woman has just gotten on my last nerve, and I’ve been trained to release my anger by plowing into shit. Goddamn, when is practice?
I get into my truck and start the engine.
“Henry!” Elle pounds on the glass to my side. “Where are you going?”
I lower the window. “Away from you. You don’t want a boyfriend or a relationship, you want problems and puzzles to solve. I’m not your guy, Elle.”
“Stop. Just tell me, who is Candice?”
“She’s no one. And if I have to say more than that, then—”
“I believe you,” she blurts out. “And I’m sorry I went to see your dad. I thought I could reason with him. I thought I could talk him into letting you go pro.”
I laugh. “Reason with him? That man? No, Elle.” I shake my head. “You don’t reason with my father. You just defend your territory, and he eventually wears you out.”
“Yeah,” she reaches through the window and places her hand on mine, “I get that now. I’m so sorry, Henry. He’s awful.”
“Yes. He is.”
“Then let’s go inside and figure something out. He can’t keep doing this to you forever and there has to be another way to get my mom her treatment—donations or something.”
“My dad owns the drug company, Elle. If I go back on my word, money’s not going to help. He’ll find a way to keep the medicine out of her hands.”
“Then we have to find a way around him. There has to be something. Otherwise, he’ll just keep using her to get what he wants. He even used it against me.”
“How?”
“He said if I got in the way of you and Candice, he’d pull treatment from my mom.”
“That son of a bitch.” But now Elle’s been pulled into this, and I know what happens when you go up against my dad. You lose. You suffer. And if that’s not enough to make him feel vindicated, he’ll go after more things you care about.
“I can’t see you anymore,” I say. “You don’t need this in your life.”
“Henry, just come inside. We can figure this out together.”
“No. He’s won. And I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“Henry, please—”
“Elle,” I bark, “you’re not calling the shots, and you can’t think your way out of this.”
“I’m not giving you up,” she whispers with fragile calm in her voice, nearly breaking my heart.
I let out a slow breath. She has to hear me. She has to understand. “He’s got you backed into a corner, Elle. You have to decide between your mother or me, and I know which one I’d choose.”
“Please, Henry. Just come inside. If you don’t want to figure a way out of this, then at least don’t end things by driving away angry. I can’t take any more heartache than I’ve already got.”
She places her soft hand on my arm. “No one’s home.”
I look into her big brown eyes and drink in those pouty little lips. It’s hard for me to say no to that. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
She cocks her head. “Everything’s so messed up, I just don’t think it matters anymore.” She walks away, and I see a heaviness in her steps. I want to protect her from this fucking nightmare of my family, who’s more like the mob than parents. She disappears into her house, and I sit there for ten minutes, trying to think of a way through this. There are no plays, no defenses, no Hail Marys. I lost this game the moment I was born.
I look up at her window, wanting her so badly I can taste it.
“Fuck it.” I grab my keys from the ignition and exit my car. What’s one last time?
ELLE
I’m standing inside the entryway of my house, eyes closed, facing the front door. I don’t know how I’ve managed to make this situation worse, but I have. Because Henry’s right; I don’t know everything. And I can’t think my way out of this.
Dammit. If I’d just kept my mouth shut and listened to Henry.
I open my eyes, staring intently at the front door. Come on, Henry, don’t end things like this. I hope once he calms down, we can figure this out together. There has to be some sort of leverage he can use against his father so we can be left to live our lives.
Come on, Henry. I clench my fists, willing him to walk through that door.
Ten minutes pass, and he doesn’t, which makes me think that he doesn’t believe in us, that maybe he didn’t really mean it when he once said that we could conquer the fucking world together.
I turn to go into the kitchen and make myself some tea or vodka—I’m not sure—when the door flies open.
My heart swells and my breath catches. Henry…
He rushes toward me and grabs me by the waist, simultaneously turning my body and lifting me. His lips are on my mouth and he pushes my back to the wall. His movements and kisses are frantic and needy. I’m instantly turned on by the feel of his hard cock pushing through his pants into me.
“I love you,” he pants between steamy kisses.
“I love you, too.” I wrap my arms around his neck and slide my tongue past his soft lips. He has no idea what he does to me. Sexually, mentally, and in my heart—he’s won everything. Which makes it impossible to believe there’s no way through this. Sadly, however, the only solution my mind comes up with is marrying Henry now, before anything else happens, and then exposing Henry’s father if he pulls the treatment for my mother. Of course, that would just drag Henry through the mud and we’d forever be hounded by the media, including my mom. It’s a terrible, horrible idea. But if it means I get Henry and she has her chance to live, then what else can I do?
Henry won’t want that. And he won’t forgive me if I go out on my own and “fix” things again.
I push away my thoughts and focus on the man between my thighs, grinding against me, kissing me with complete abandon, and panting my name.
He drops me for a moment, his mouth never leaving me, and tugs down my sweats. I kick them off the rest of the way while he pops the top button on his jeans and yanks down his pants mid-thigh, exposing his hard cock. I take one look at it—the tight pink skin, the soft velvety head, the impressive length—and the only thing I want is to take him in my mouth. I look up at him for a moment and a smile creeps over my wet lips. Oh, yeah. I’m totally doing this. Not only is it a fantasy of mine, because I’ve never done it before, but nothing inspires a man more—so I hear. Maybe he’ll come up with a brilliant idea in the process.
A miracle blow job. My best idea today.
I lower myself to my knees and grip him firmly in my hand.
“Elle, you don’t need to do tha—oohhh…” he moans as I take the length of him in my mouth, swirling my tongue over the salty tip. His smell is musky and all male, something I’m not used to, but I remember once reading how the animalistic parts of our brains still respond strongly to pheromones whether we realize it or not. Which explains why as I’m sucking him in, pushing the head of his cock all the way to the back of my throat, I’m the one who feels aroused. One flick of my c-spot and I’ll be sailing to O-land.
Henry threads his strong fingers through my hair and begins pumping his hips in time to the movements of my mouth. His pants and deep groans urge me on, making me take him as far as he can go.
I wrap my hand around the base of his shaft so he feels me on every inch of him. I want
him to remember how good I make him feel and that we’re a match in every possible way.
Henry pants my name, and I go faster, knowing he’s about to come. My clit is throbbing and my core is aching to come with him.
Henry suddenly pulls away. He jerks me to my feet and spins me around to face the wall. “Spread your legs,” he demands, his voice husky.
I step my feet apart, and he snakes a strong arm around my waist. I know what’s coming, so I brace my hands against the wall.
He’s taller than me, so he pushes between my shoulders, bending me over further. I hold my breath, waiting for his delicious penetration to release the sinful pressure screaming inside me.
A moment passes. Then a moment more. My brain is in this lustful fog, but I can hear a quiet buzzing. A cell phone?
“Hello?” I hear Henry’s voice say.
I straighten out and spin around to face him. “Ohnoyoudidnt, Henry. Tell me you did not just answer the phone in the middle of sex.” Really, really hot dirty sex.
He holds up a finger to silence me, listening to whoever’s talking. “Police? Why? What do they want?” He bends over and pulls up his jeans with his shaky hand.
“That can’t be right,” he says, his face growing ghost white. He listens some more and then lets out a “Fuck.”
I can tell this is bad, bad news. I can see it on his face. As far as he’s concerned, I’m not even here.
“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he says and slides his cell into his jeans while I quickly pull on my sweats.
“What happened?” I ask. “Who was that?”
His eyes glazed over, he just sort of stares at the wall. “That was Hunter.”
“And?” I’m thinking something happened to his teammates.
“The corporate jet went down over the Gulf of Mexico. The plane’s missing.”
I gasp. Oh no. Oh no. “Who was in it, Henry?” I ask, and a tiny horrible part of me hopes it was his bastard of a father, but I quickly push back on myself. As bad as that man is, I don’t wish him dead, not that the world wouldn’t be a better place, but because I don’t want Henry to lose his dad. I don’t want Henry to suffer like that.
Henry blinks. “All of them.”
“All of who, Henry?”
“My entire family. Even Michelle, who’s supposed to be in Africa.”
I cup my hands over my mouth. “Oh, God.” I don’t know what else to say.
Henry’s face turns a shade of red I’ve never seen on a person before. “That fucking bastard. He did this. They wouldn’t be on the plane if it weren’t for him.”
I want to touch Henry and hug him or say something, but I can tell he needs his space. “That bastard better be dead, because if he’s not, I’m going to kill him.” He reaches for the door.
“Wait. Where are you going?”
“To my parents’ house.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“To do what, Elle? You’ve got enough on your plate. I’ll be fine.”
I blink at him. “You’re in shock. This is horrible. You shouldn’t be alone.”
“Elle,” he gives me a harsh look, “I’ve been alone my entire life. I’ll be fine.”
“But I—”
“You need to focus on your mother. I’ll call you later.”
He rushes out and drives away in his SUV. I know why he’s pushed me away—he doesn’t want me to see him break down or cry or whatever’s going to happen next. And while I want to respect his space, I feel like chasing after him. I really want to be there for him.
Who are you kidding? You’ll just make a mess of everything. Because if I’m honest with myself, I really don’t know how to help him. I feel impotent and frustrated and frightened.
If anything, today has taught me that while I may be smart, I don’t know everything. Especially how to help the man I love.
He said stay away. I should listen to him this time. But goddammit! That’s not what I want.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I haven’t heard from Henry much over the past few days, but the story is all over the news.
Billionaire Walton family missing.
Plane lost over Gulf of Mexico.
Russians plan to take over US Oil by taking out Walton family.
Okay, that last one is a tabloid story, and so is the latest headline from this morning, questioning why Henry was the only member of his family not on the plane.
Idiots. There is no limit to how low the media will sink.
“Any news, sweetie?” my mother mutters from her hospital bed, waking up from a morning nap.
“No.” From the seat next to her, I shake my head at the television mounted to the wall across the room.
“You should go to him, Elle. He can probably use a good friend right now.”
“If Henry wanted me around, he’d ask. He hasn’t.” We’ve just spoken for a few moments at a time. I ask how he’s doing. He says okay. I ask what I can do to help. He says I should be with my mother.
“He’s a man. Since when do they ask for help or say they need you?” she says.
I shrug. “I’ll only want to meddle and help and I’ll just end up making things worse.” I don’t want to create additional stress, especially after I really fucked things up before this all happened.
“You won’t, honey. You’re too smart for that.”
I shrug. “I’m not so sure.”
“Why would you say that?” my mom asks. “You’re the smartest person I know.”
“You have to say that. You’re my mother.”
“Elle, do you remember how you left us when you were thirteen to go live with your uncle Seymour?”
The circus uncle. How could I ever forget? It was the first time in my life I ever felt normal. “Yeah.”
“Well, you left us because you knew exactly what you were doing. You knew that we were making bad choices and pushing you to the point of breaking. So you went to the only person who was crazy enough to listen to a thirteen-year-old and give her the space she needed, while protecting her. Smartest move you ever made.”
Huh? She actually thinks that? “I’m shocked. All these years, I thought you were still mad about that.”
“I was for a long time, but then I started to understand that we were always making your life about us. We saw you as some sort of invincible superwoman who could take on the world. But at the same time, we were treating you like a child who didn’t know what was best for her. And we were wrong.”
“I’m not following your point,” I say.
“The point is you’ve always had a good head on your shoulders, and I’m not just talking about how smart you are. You come at problems from a completely different angle, and you’re not afraid of making hard choices even when everyone else isn’t thinking straight.”
I don’t see myself like that. I feel like I just get in my way—like I didn’t see Henry for who he really was. I didn’t see how I was hurting myself by not confronting my fears about my mother’s health. I didn’t listen to Henry about his father, because I believed I was smarter and knew better than him. I spend my mental energy in ways that create more problems than I solve.
“I keep getting in my own way,” I mutter.
“Elle, baby, you’re still so young. And you’re allowed to make mistakes, but there’s a time when you just have to trust yourself and your strengths. You’re good at figuring things out and your passion is making things better. So go help Henry.”
“I think I’ll just call him instead—let him know that I’m here when he needs me.”
“Don’t be silly, Elle. Think about how you felt when I got sick. Now imagine that pain times ten. Henry’s lost everyone.”
I nod. She’s right, but his resistance to my help isn’t the only issue. “I think I’m afraid to go through more drama. Everything’s been so rough lately.”
“You can take it, Elle. You’re my daughter, strong as…what’s the strongest thing in the universe?”
&nbs
p; I know what she’s asking—diamonds, graphene, spider silk, carbyne—but there’s only one answer in my mind.
“Love,” I say.
She smiles. “Yes. Love. And I love you, Elle. Besides, I get to go home today. My vitals are stable, I’m eating and drinking regularly—I’m getting stronger every day.”
“It’s only been a week.”
“I want to be in the comfort of my own home. We’ll drive in as needed for doctor visits and tests.”
This is great. “I’m so happy for you, Mom.” This means Christmas at home. It’s only ten days away.
“We have at least six months to go before we’ll know if the treatment is working,” she says. “But I have a feeling that it will.”
I nod. “It has to. I need you.”
Her big brown eyes tear up. “You love me, Elle, but you haven’t needed me for a long, long time. Henry, on the other hand. I think you need him and he needs you.”
I take a breath, trying not to cry while mulling over her points. “Did Tass call you?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I haven’t really spoken much about Henry and all of a sudden you’re pushing me to be by his side.”
“Well, a little birdy may have told me that you asked him to marry you.”
“Oh.” But he can’t marry me. Or he couldn’t. Now everything is up in the air. I mean, if his dad is really dead, then there’s nothing stopping us. That said, as much as we want to be together, we didn’t want it to be like this. This is tragic. This is a giant sour pickle in our sweet, sweet relationship cake. “That Tassie. Can’t trust her with anything.”
“She just wanted to be a good friend.”
“So you’re not angry I didn’t tell you?” I ask.
“I’m sure you didn’t want to worry me. But I’ll always worry no matter what you do. It can’t be avoided.”
I look down at my hands, shaking my head. “I worry about you, too, but I should’ve been honest.”
“Forgiven. But right now I think you need to focus on Henry. Tassie said she’s really worried about him.”
Oh, Henry Page 14