Defiance of the Heart (Book 2)

by Monica James

  “You will do no such thing,” he utters, peering up at me from under those lashes. “Princess, it’s gorgeous. I love it.”

  “You do?” I can’t keep the surprise from my voice.

  He drops to his knees and places his splayed hands on either side of the heart, careful not to touch it. “Of course, I do. How can I not?”

  “You don’t think it’s dumb?” I chew my lip, gazing down at him nervously.

  “Dumb?” He scoffs lightly. “I inspired your first tattoo. I’m honored. Besides”—he places a tender kiss on my ribs—“you with ink is a fucking marvelous sight.”

  My breathing returns to a normal pace. “It’s only fair.” I grip his chin and coax him to stand so I can kiss him gently. He moans into my mouth, fisting my hair and pressing us chest to chest.

  I’m still topless, which is a dangerous thing. London cups my breast, ensuring to steer clear of my tattoo, and thumbs my nipple. “I love you,” he hums, causing me to whimper in response. “Let me show you just how much.”

  There is no discussion about it as we break apart. London’s eyes are like a magnet as he’s drawn to my tattoo. I know the feeling all too well. It’s how I feel whenever I lay eyes on my name across his chest.

  Just as he’s about to drop to his knees, his fingers affixed to the top button of my jeans, his cell chimes. Groaning, he peers at the clock on the wall. “It’s Emily. Sorry, Princess.” I wave him off because there is nothing to be sorry for. “Hi, baby.”

  However, who speaks to him isn’t Emily. It’s Belle. I can hear her voice over the phone. London listens for a few seconds before he pales. “What?”

  My stomach drops because an ominous feeling kicks me low. I quickly put on my T-shirt, watching London as he listens to Belle, his mouth agape.

  “Have you gone fucking insane? No, absolutely not!” His tone is feral. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him this angry before.

  I’m desperate to ask what’s going on, but I’m afraid.

  He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “Belle, stop this. Please. Stop and think about what you’re saying.”

  I bite my nails, watching on and never feeling more helpless. Belle continues talking, and each word chips away at London until I can’t stand it any longer. “What’s wrong?” I mouth, but London merely shakes his head, pained.

  “I can’t talk to you right now. Put Emily on.” He takes a step back. “Excuse me? Put her on now.” His expression is one of utter torment. “You’re going now? When were you planning on telling me?”

  What he says next confirms my worst fears to be true. “Stop saying that. He is not her fucking father!”

  It was nice to pretend for a while, but sooner or later, we knew he’d come out of hiding. The radio silence was him plotting, and it seems that whatever he has planned takes his callousness to a whole new level.

  I extend my hand, demanding he give me the phone. He is in no state to speak, so he does. He begins pacing.

  “Belle? What’s going on?” I don’t see the point in being coy.

  “Ho-Holland?” she stutters, clearly not expecting me to come on the phone.

  “Yes, it’s me. What’s going on?” Her silence is unnerving, especially since I know the reason she won’t talk.

  “I’m on my way to New York,” she explains, and I close my eyes in horror. “I did what you asked and spoke to Lincoln, but to my surprise, he’d already taken a paternity test. He is Emily’s father. I already knew this, but something in him is…different this time.”

  “Belle, no. Don’t fall for his lies again,” I plead, but her mind is made up.

  “It’s different this time. He was on the phone, begging me to forgive him. He wants to meet Emily. I think she should know him.”

  “Why?” I beseech. I can’t understand how she thinks that’s wise. “He wanted to use your daughter for his own personal gain. He blackmailed me, using her as a pawn. Tell me how you can possibly think him being in her life is a good thing?”

  London walks backward and forward, fists clenched by his side.

  “If you want a man like that in your life, then I don’t know you at all,” I spit, angered and frustrated by her inability to see past his lies.

  “He cried,” she reasons, causing me to roll my eyes. “He said he wanted to get to know her. I think he deserves a chance.”

  “No, he doesn’t. His chance has come and gone. His chance to know her was when you told him you were pregnant. But he didn’t. He turned his back on both you and Emily. The one person who didn’t is now the one you’re turning your back on.”

  “I’m sorry, Holland. I really am.” And I believe her. “But everyone deserves a second chance. I won’t deny my daughter this opportunity.”

  “Opportunity?” I scoff, disgusted by her weakness. “This is a fucking tragedy. The only opportunity is for Lincoln to hurt both London and me.”

  “This isn’t about you,” she exclaims. “The world doesn’t revolve around you. And besides, this is none of your business.”

  She won’t see reason because Lincoln has wormed his way into her life yet again. When will she learn?

  Looking at London, broken and so confused, I don’t bother wasting my time on someone who is past saving. “It is my business. I only hope you change your mind before it’s too late.” However, when I hear the distinct voiceover announcing the flight to New York has begun boarding, I know it’s too late.

  “I have to go. Tell London I’ll call him when we land.” The line goes dead.

  I stand motionless with the cell pressed in my hand, staring off into space as I’m unsure what to do. For the first time ever, I feel hopeless. We had a fighting chance with Belle on our side, but now, this is a fucking mess.

  Lincoln played the happy family card, and Belle fell for it. I can’t believe she’s still so naïve. For our entire childhood, Belle craved the love her parents never gave her, and now that Lincoln has hinted that she can finally have her wish, she’s letting go of good sense and letting him win.

  “I can’t believe she has fallen for his shit again. What is the matter with her?” I say aloud, hoping by speaking the words, I’ll be able to make some sense of them. I can’t.

  Slumping onto the stool, I run a hand down my face, stunned. “This is my fault,” I state. London sighs, finally coming to a standstill. “I made her talk to him. I thought she wouldn’t be fooled yet again. Why do I keep giving her the benefit of the doubt?” I’m livid at myself.

  “This isn’t your fault. Not in the slightest. It’s Belle’s for being so naïve, but most of all”—he clenches his jaw—“it’s his. This was the only way he could win.” There is utter defeat behind his words, but no, fuck no, I refuse to let this be the end.

  “He hasn’t won,” I snarl, jumping up on the hunt for my cell. “He has just started a war.”

  London watches as I scroll through my contacts, intent on tearing apart Lincoln’s empire, brick by brick. Tony Petrov answers on the third ring. I place it onto loud speaker, wanting London to hear it all. “Holland, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “Tony, I won’t waste your time. When you asked me about Lincoln, what I should have told you is that he is a lying, manipulative asshole. He may want to see the company succeed, but mark my words, if someone bigger or better comes along, you will be yesterday’s news.

  “Investing with him is not wise, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that when you first asked. I was bound by an NDA. Long story short, he was blackmailing me.”

  London growls as the memory is still too raw.

  “I understand if you’re mad at me for not telling you the truth, but I needed you to know what you’re getting yourself involved in. You’ve always been straight up with me. So, I’m sorry I didn’t do the same.”

  Tony is silent as I know it’s a lot to process. “Thank you for telling me,” he finally says. I have no idea what he’s thinking because his voice gives nothing away.

  “It’
s okay. Again, please accept my apologies for not telling you sooner.”

  “It takes a lot of guts to do what you did. You know what kind of man I am.” And I do. Yes, Tony may scare the shit out of me, but I know he’s honorable. Something Lincoln is not. I can only hope he appreciates my honesty, and it’s not too late.

  “I do, which is why you needed to know.”

  “I am very grateful. I couldn’t stand that sneaky bastard. Something was off about him. I only gave him the benefit of the doubt because of you. But now that I have this information, I will deal with the situation accordingly.”

  I can only hope that translates into him severing all business ties with Lincoln, as losing one of their biggest investors when he’s a newly appointed VP will not look good for him. I also hope Tony explains to the CEO why he decided to jump ship.

  If Lincoln wants to fuck with my future, then I will do the same to him.

  Tony and I say our goodbyes.

  When I hang up, I look at London with a new lease on life. “If it’s a fight he wants…let’s go to battle.”

  I don’t need to explain what’s going on. London understands. This is us retaliating as we don’t roll over. We don’t surrender. We fight.

  London storms over, looping his fingers around my nape and drawing me close. We are inches apart, the air thick with savagery. “I’ll book the first flight to New York. It’s time this ends.” I shiver at the promise his words hold.

  “Yes, it is. I am done with this asshole messing up our lives. I—”

  I don’t have a chance to finish my sentence because London is on me, ripping at my clothes, assaulting my lips with his hungry kisses because with the unknown lingering, there is no waiting for tomorrow. When he sinks deep into me, I scream out a war cry because we both know the final battle is on…and only the strong will survive.

  Vacationing in a remote part of the world has its pros and cons. Pro—you can pretend the world doesn’t exist. Con—when trying to leave, it literally feels like the world does not exist.

  Catching a red-eye back to New York was impossible. So was trying to leave the day after Belle called. No matter what strings I tried to pull, I got the same answer. The next flight to New York was leaving in two days.

  We even inquired about taking a different route and stopping over in a handful of states en route to New York. In the end, it made sense to wait the two days.

  Those two days were almost unbearable because London was inconsolable. Belle didn’t call, and he had no way of contacting her. I budged and dialed Lincoln, but no surprise when he let it go to voicemail.

  He’s back in control, a place he likes to be. He will contact me when he’s done having his fun. He knows what the silence is doing to London, so he will drag this out for as long as he can.

  I was helpless because nothing I could say would take away the pain London felt. His world was crumbling around him, leaving us stuck in a once paradise that was now his hell.

  When our plane finally left, I mentally prepared myself for the numerous scenarios headed my way. I have no idea what London will do once he gets a hold of Lincoln. This is the most detached I’ve felt from him because he won’t speak to me. He’s bottling it all up, and I’m frightened of what will happen when he finally explodes.

  When we landed, London was intent on finding Lincoln and killing him. I understood his anger, but for that to happen, we needed to know where exactly he was. I decided to start with the most obvious place.

  I never thought I’d be back here. When I said goodbye to my apartment on the Upper East Side, I intended it to be for good. But it looks like fate had other plans for me.

  London is beside me, and I honestly have no idea what will happen if Lincoln opens this door. Taking a deep breath, I knock, unsure if I want him to be home or not. If he is, this will be a bloodbath.

  When no one responds and it’s clear there are no noises coming from within, I exhale lightly. London however won’t take no for an answer. He pounds his fist on the door, yelling, “Open the door, you motherfucker! I’m not going anywhere.”

  Pound.

  Pound.

  Pound.

  This is going from bad to fucking diabolic in mere seconds. As I’m racking my brain to what our next move should be, I hear my name being called.

  “Holland, dear. He’s not home.” Both London and I turn to see Martha shuffling up the hallway, mail in hand.

  “Hi, Martha. When did he leave?”

  She seems to ponder on my question. “I think just before nine. He looked on his way to work.”

  This is good. I can work with this.

  “Thank you so much. I’m sorry you’ve somehow become involved in my problems,” I say, guiltily. I decide to push my luck. “You didn’t happen to see a little girl about ten years old and her mother come by here?”

  It’s a long shot, but I have to try.

  “Yes, actually, I did.” London inhales sharply through his nose. He’s barely holding on. “Yesterday, I believe it was. Lincoln seemed very happy with them. I didn’t know he liked children.” Her honesty would be laughable if it wasn’t for our situation right now.

  “He doesn’t,” I correct, rubbing my brow. “Are they staying here?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure he walked them out late last night. The little girl said she missed her father.”

  My heart breaks. I can only imagine what’s happening to London’s.

  “That’s no surprise. This is her father.” I peer up at London, smiling bittersweetly. “This is my husband, Martha. London Sinclair.”

  Martha’s mouth gapes open, but she quickly recovers when London offers his hand. “Hello, Martha. I’m sorry for not introducing myself sooner. Forgive me. I’m not myself.”

  Martha shakes his hand, not at all offended. “It’s quite okay. I can imagine you miss her too.”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe,” he replies while both Martha and I try not to weep at his sadness.

  “I have to go, but I promise, once this blows over, I’ll tell you everything. Oh, and…”

  But she beats me to the punch. “I never saw you. Either of you.”

  “Thank you.” I give her a tight hug and kiss her cheek.

  We leave with more direction of where to look. But there is one problem—London looks like he’s about to incite World War III. He shoulders open the glass door with force, almost taking out a passer-by who is talking on his phone.

  “Let’s go. We know where he is.” He bunches his hands into tight fists, resulting in the loud crunching of knuckles.

  I can only hope this doesn’t blow up in my face. “London, let me go. You’re in no state to talk to him, and that’s completely understandable.”

  I’m attempting to appeal to his rational side, but I may as well have told him to go fuck himself. “What? You’re not serious?” he exclaims, shaking his head.

  “I am,” I deadpan him. He can hate me later. I’m doing this to protect him.

  “If you go, it will just end ugly, and Lincoln will have you thrown out by security, or worse still, he’ll have you arrested.” This is exactly what we don’t want. A criminal record will not win us any favors in court.

  “I don’t care!” he barks, annoyed I would even suggest something so obscene.

  But I won’t back down. “You don’t know where he works, and I intend on keeping it that way. I won’t be long. Wait for me back at our hotel.”

  I attempt to reach out and touch him, but he recoils, appearing he can’t stand to be near me right now. And that’s okay. We hurt the ones we love.

  “You would do the same if the roles were reversed.”

  He folds his arms, glaring. “No, I wouldn’t. I would support you!” He is so angry, I almost buckle. But his fury is the exact reason I stick to my guns.

  “I am supporting you, and you’ll see that,” I say gently, not wanting to cause an argument. But it seems London is already there.

  “Bullshit!�
�� he exclaims, his tone sharp. “You just want to do everything your way as usual.”

  “Stop it.” I gasp, surprised he would say something like that because it’s not true. “I know you’re upset but stop being an asshole. I’m trying to help you.”

  “The only way you can help me is by telling me where that son of a bitch works!” His cheeks are flushed red, and his eyes are crazy, which is exactly why I will do no such thing.

  “I’ll talk to you later. I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “Too late,” he snaps, while I blink, stunned he’s reacting this way. “So, you go while I sit around, dick in hand, waiting to find out what the fuck is going on?”

  “Don’t speak to me like that.”

  We’ve attracted the attention of onlookers as London is livid. I’m trying not to take offense, but it’s a little hard when he’s speaking to me like I’m the enemy. “Are you okay, miss?” asks a concerned man.

  London almost bites off his head as he lunges forward. “Mind your own business. She’s fine!” The man rushes off, not at all interested in getting a broken nose.

  This is exactly what Lincoln wanted. Maybe we were lost in the honeymoon phase, but this right here is our reality. Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to cry. “I’m not talking to you when you’re like this. It solves nothing. It only gives Lincoln what he wants. So hate me, I don’t care, because in the end, I’m thinking about your daughter. And you should too!”

  I don’t wait around for him to reply because I am done talking. I’m thankful he doesn’t follow.

  When I’m out of earshot, I let out a shaky breath, afraid my tears will betray me. So we just had our first real fight, and it happened over Lincoln. Rubbing my temple, I can’t help but compare it to high school.

  Belle and Lincoln have once again managed to wedge their way into our lives.

  I understand he’s lashing out, but being someone’s emotional punching bag is hard, especially when all you’re trying to do is help. I push aside the woe is me attitude, however, when I’m a few blocks away from Lincoln’s office on Wall Street.

  I peer over my shoulder to ensure London isn’t following. He doesn’t seem to be, but I can’t be too sure. When the looming building of Grotta and Hill comes into view, bile rises. This is the last place I want to be, but I should be used to Lincoln putting me into situations I don’t want to be in.