Into the Gloaming

by Mercy Celeste

  “Wait, Heath,” Clark pulled him back, his voice pleading. “You’re right. I treated you badly. And I regret it. I regret hurting you. So much. You’re a good man. And I love you. That’s why I’m not filing the papers. I want… a second chance. I want to make sure we are over. Please, baby. I love you. Take me back. Heath. I need you. It won’t be like it was. I’m… out now. We don’t have to hide. We don’t have to pretend. We can live openly. I wanted that. I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t want that.” He pressed his body close to Heath’s, laying his hand on Heath’s chest. Flirtatiously. Like he’d done the night they’d met, in the back room after the party.

  Heath leaned in and whispered, “You have a child on the way. And you knew it; before I even filed the divorce papers. You were fucking her without protection, then coming home to me.”

  “At least she let me fuck her. You never would. Always made me—”

  Heath slid his hand into Clark’s hair and tilted his head back. “Finish your complaint, what did I make you do… that you didn’t come begging me to do to you? I played by your rules, Clark. And should never have married you. Just fucked you until I was tired of you.”

  “Like you’re tired of that guy down in Georgia? Did he not put out enough for you? He’s just your type. So pretty. So young. Fragile. I hear he worked for you until you fired him. Because he wouldn’t let you fuck him over like you did me.”

  “You fucking bastard. Leave him out of this. He’s nothing like you. He’s—”

  “A Mary Sue that won’t put out until you put a ring on his cock. Is that why you’re pushing this divorce so hard?” Clark slid his arm around Heath’s waist and splayed it over the small of his back. The other hand still on his chest, rubbing small circles… his breath so hot… “You always loved to fight with me. Then fuck me into the floor. Heath… I need you. Tonight. One last time. Please, baby. My hotel is just across the street. Take me… like you want to. One last time.”

  “And you’ll file the papers?” Heath nuzzled his nose to Clark’s cheek. Fuck, he was hard. And lonely. And Clark always made him forget… for a little while.

  “Promise, baby.” Clark closed his eyes and opened his mouth, biting his lip in a way that made the few brain cells left in Heath’s head stop firing. Fucking god, his mouth tasted good. Heath pulled him flush to his body, feeling every bit of his need, and devoured his mouth.

  Flashing lights erupted behind his eyelids. Clark moaned. Rubbing against him. The music throbbing in the background suddenly louder than the blood pumping in his veins. The flashing continued. Not like strobes. Like— “You motherfucker, you set me up, didn’t you?”

  Clark opened his eyes, something in his eyes that looked suspiciously like… betrayal, a sneer spreading his pretty lips. “Going to be all over social media in less than an hour. And if you do what your eyes are saying you’re about to do… that’ll be all over the internet too. And I’ll sue you for every penny you have ever made. Claim sexual abuse. All the hashtag metoo people will eat it up. Older rich guy seduced young innocent ingénue… knocked him around if he didn’t get what he wanted. And you knocked me around, Heath. A lot. I have the pictures from all those wild nights when you lost control. I bruise so easily. And you never noticed.”

  Heath’s life flashed before his eyes. He closed his eyes and went back to that night he watched the man he loved trampled until he wasn’t much more than a puddle of blood and meat… and somehow that wasn’t as bad as this moment. “What do you want?”

  “Exactly what we started here. To go to my hotel. And fuck like horny little bunnies until the sun rises… and my lawyers will call yours and we’ll talk about a settlement… that includes the negatives, as they say in old movies. Turn me down… and I’ll end you… right here. Tonight. And you know I can make a scene better than anyone you’ve ever met. Your little museum boy will never look at you the same after I’m done with you… of course, he’ll never look at you the same if you leave with me, but… win… win. For me.”

  He’d walked into this with both eyes open. Knowing it would come to something like this. He leaned over and whispered, “My videos of our nights, trump your pictures, Clark. You knew the cameras were there. You knew we were being recorded every time you came to me… begging for me to hurt you. Every time you wanted to be tied up. Every time you wanted me to spank you. You sick fucking bastard. And I kept the recordings… thinking that one day, something like this would come up. So… what do you want to do now? We can go across the street and I’ll give you what you desperately crave… and you will file the papers… and the prenups will be honored. Or you can kiss me one last time and walk away and do the same. If you come after me… you better bring more than a few pictures of the bruises I left on your ass.”

  Clark’s sneer turned into a smile. The gleam in his eyes scared the fucking shit out of Heath. He’d been bluffing. Mostly. But Clark wouldn’t know that. He also would never know Heath was shaking in his shoes, and suddenly sober as fuck.

  “There’s the man I fell in love with. No bullshitting around with you, Heath Cortlandt. Straight up, Gangsta…” He slid his hand into Heath’s and linked their fingers. “Come on then. One last fuck… for old times’ sake.”

  He tugged and Heath followed. Aware that every camera in that club recorded his shame. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing anything but the man his father raised him to be. Cold. Strong. Confident.

  Tomorrow he’d meet with his lawyers and figure a way out of all the ties that bound him. He pulled his phone from his pocket and hovered over the first name in his contacts. His heart… stone.

  He erased Austin’s name. As if that would erase his memory. Maybe in time, he’d forget. Maybe he’d learn to live in this life… and let the last one go. One day. Not tonight. Tonight… he hurt… and there was only one cure for what ailed him when he hurt this badly.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  The sun shone brightly on Manhattan. The February air cut him to the bone. He wished for the gloves he left somewhere along the way to his own destruction last night. And sunglasses. He’d sell his soul for a pair of sunglasses right now. And maybe an invisibility cloak.

  He ducked the questions that were hurled at him as soon as he hit the sidewalk and climbed into the taxi that the doorman held for him. Fucking hell. Goddamn, Paparazzi.

  He hadn’t dared to check his phone yet. He’d turned it off as soon as he left the club. He didn’t want to see the fallout from making out with his ex in public. Or face the wrath of his mother who would use this to prove he wasn’t fit to run his father’s company.

  Well, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. But that still didn’t change the fact that he owned more shares than she did. Or that she legally didn’t own any at all. And he could take her to court to take control of his shares… and the company that he didn’t want. But she was his mother. And, despite everything, he loved her.

  One day he’d hoped she would love him more than she loved power and money. He knew now he’d be waiting forever for that.

  In one night, he’d destroyed everything he’d ever worked for. For a man he’d never loved. Not really. A man he wanted desperately to love him. But never would.

  Like that person he’d been in those horrible nightmares… he’d been trapped in a life he didn’t want… losing the only thing he’d ever loved because he was too stupid to keep his dick in his pants.

  He was alive. That was one thing he had going for him. That, and the ability to walk away from the life he abhorred before it killed him.

  The taxi pulled up in front of his building. Groaning, Heath ordered the driver to keep going. He’d have to sneak inside his own home. Or at least, not give them a vantage from which to ambush and trap him.

  He walked the block back. Putting on the face he’d worn when he’d followed his ex out of the club. The one that said he wasn’t ashamed of fucking a man he didn’t love.

  Using Clark’s craven desires against him to ac
hieve his goal. The divorce papers were filed in Los Angeles as of one hour ago. Clark was out of his life. Unless he needed someone to fuck him. Then… they’d negotiate a meeting.

  When hell freezes over.

  “Heath Cortlandt. Did you have sex with Clark Dawson?” The questions started before he got near his door. The paps in his face, snapping pictures. Video cameras rolling. Shouting all kinds of nonsense. “Are you still married to Clark Dawson?”

  He stopped at the sound of that last question. Something so familiar about the voice. He didn’t shout over the rest. He just stood there. One hand in his coat pocket. The other in a cast.

  Heath turned to face him. His heart in his throat, making it hard to speak. “No. Not anymore.”

  “Did you sleep with him?” He asked. The sunglasses covering his eyes, hiding his pain.

  “Yes,” Heath answered truthfully. The other paps shut up, recognizing that Heath would only answer his questions.

  “Did it mean anything?” He asked, rocking on the balls of his feet as the cameras turned on him. No one besides Heath seemed to notice that he didn’t have any kind of recording device.

  “No.” He wanted to go to him to beg for forgiveness.

  “I slept with Jemma. So… I guess we’re even.” He told him something he already knew. “This weekend. Not… back then… but yeah… back then, too.”

  “Do you love her?” God, he needed to know.

  He didn’t say no.

  “Do you love Clark?”

  “No.” And that made it all so much worse. That he would sleep with a man he didn’t love because he couldn’t have the man he loved… and was jealous as hell that he’d slept with Jemma. “Do you love her?” He asked again.

  “Not like I love you,” Austin answered as he removed the sunglasses. The pain in his eyes more than Heath could bear. “I’m sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Heath couldn’t make his feet move. He stayed rooted to the spot. His heart on display for the entire world to see.

  “No… I don’t suppose it does.” He turned. The paps crowding around him stopped him.

  “Austin,” he called his name. Making him real to the people watching them. “Don’t go.”

  He turned back to face him. His eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Give me one good reason.”

  “Because I love you,” Heath shouted over the sound of his heart breaking. “Because I’ve always loved you. And I will never stop. Not in this life… or the next.”

  “That’s not… Heath.” He broke then. The sobs choking his voice, stabbing Heath through the heart, he could have sworn had crumbled to pieces. “Don’t make me… it’s not fair.”

  “Do you love me?” God… he couldn’t breathe. The longer Austin took to deny him… the more it hurt just to pull in a breath. “Austin—”

  “Yes… God damn it… your asshole. I love you.”

  “I’m sorry. For… last night.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. We’re even. I’m not apologizing for Jemma.”

  “You don’t have to. She loves you.”

  “We said goodbye. Made our peace.”

  “Yeah, same with Clark. It’s over. For good.”

  He nodded. Looking at the camera in his face. He wiped his eyes with his good hand. “They’re staring at us.”

  “Yeah… the fucking leeches, looking to suck the life out of a story that isn’t worth telling. They’ll forget about me tomorrow.”

  “Yeah?”

  “God, I hope.” Heath wanted to take him in his arms. And shield him from the vultures before they could pick his bones clean. But he couldn’t move.

  He nodded and swallowed hard. “Heath?”

  “Yeah…”

  “If I asked… would you… kiss me or something?” The paps crowded him, pushing to get the camera in his face… to be the first to get his face out there.

  Heath pushed his way through the crowd. And with them swarming like the vultures they were… he tilted Austin’s sweet face until their mouths met. The kiss… the sweetest he’d ever known. In this life… or any life.

  Coda

  December 25, 1918

  In what is being called, The Christmas Eve Tragedy, sixty souls were lost as the Saint Charles Hotel burned to the ground last night.

  Survivors include an unclothed woman found walking in front of the abandoned Cortland Manor house. Witnesses say she may be the sister of the late HC Cortland. She has been taken to Memorial Hospital for observation.

  The list of confirmed dead and missing follows:

  Savoring the smoke that wreathed his head, he skimmed the news. His attention caught by familiar names. Cormac Byrne… Well, that was one less thorn in his side. The Callaghan boy… presumed dead. Such a shame that he could not be identified. The last name on the list surprising him… poor Angus. Such a fool for a pretty face.

  He laid down the newspaper, ready to greet the holiday with his family… the festive decorations fading as her wrath enveloped the house… driving him back into the dark recesses… to await the return of his heir… and the one who’d soiled the Cortlandt name.

  Now that he was free— he would wait an eternity for their return.

  Generation Lost

  About Mercy Celeste

  I started reading romance when I was twelve years old. First Love from Silhouette and Bantam's Sweet Dreams line got me through my teens. I hid the 'dirty' historical romances under my bed like most pre-teens did. From the day I read The Outsiders by SE Hinton I knew what I wanted to write. Stories about boys... having adventures and falling in love. The first 'grown up' romance I read as an actual grownup was Gentle Rogue by Johanna Lindsey. And my fate was sealed. Never looked back. The Fabio-ier the cover, the more I wanted it. Virginia Henley, Kathleen E Woodiwiss, Nora Roberts. I read them all. The bigger the hero. The more I loved it.

  Now, I write the stories I could never find. Be they, straight or gay, everyone deserves a Happy Ever After. And I plan to give them all just that; to the best of my ability.

  Visit my blog to find all of my books and to learn more about me.

  https://mercyceleste.blogspot.com/

  or

  https://mercyceleste.com/

  Books by Mercy Celeste

  Falling Back

  Courting Sin

  Crazy from the Heat

  Light from the Dark

  Table of Contents

  Into the Gloaming

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

 
Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Coda

  About Mercy Celeste

  Books by Mercy Celeste

  Table of Contents