by Lexi C. Foss
“That’s asking a hell of a lot from him. I mean—”
“No, it’s not,” he cut in. “You don’t seem to realize who you’re dating.”
“But we’re not dating. We’re—”
“You’re dating. Stop making excuses and talk to him. That’s an order, Dawson.”
I scoffed at that. “You’re as bad as Caleb.” He used to boss me around all the time as a kid, and come to think of it, Mark did too.
“No, I’m much worse than your brother. Now go talk to Mershano. I’ll be in touch when I learn more.” He hung up without further explanation. I jumped as someone knocked at the door not a second later. My heart raced in my chest, beating a static rhythm that drowned out my hearing. What if it was Ryan? I hadn’t bolted the door. If he had a key, he could enter.
My fears were realized as the snick of a card penetrated my ears. I started to scramble backward, when I heard Will’s deep baritone call out, “Hello?”
A squeak escaped my mouth as relief undid me on the floor, followed swiftly by mortification. Oh God. Talk about seeing me at my worst . . .
Mark’s confidence that Will would find me brave crumbled at my feet. I had to look half-crazed lying here with torn-up stockings, my hair half-undone, and clothes crumpled. Not to mention my face . . . I tried to hide in my arms and tucked my knees tightly to my chest.
“Jesus, what the hell happened?” Will’s hands were on me a second later, causing me to flinch on instinct. He immediately withdrew, which only made me want crawl further into myself and bawl.
“Rachel,” he murmured. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Are you hurt?”
I shook my head and bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. Opening up about this to Mark had been hard, but this felt like breaking open my chest. Where could I even begin? What if it changed the way he felt or the way he acted? Seeing pity in his eyes would destroy me. It was the last expression I ever wanted to see from him. All the pent-up heat and insinuating looks and comments were what I enjoyed. They would disappear once he knew the truth.
Stop making excuses and talk to him, Mark’s demand repeated in my head. He was right. I needed to tell Will, not to ask him to help me, but so he could help himself. Warning him about Ryan was the best way for me to protect Will. He couldn’t guard himself against an unknown threat, but he could potentially stop a known one.
I blew out a long breath and fought for the courage I needed to explain. My hands shook so hard I had to clasp them tightly together to keep my arms from vibrating.
“Please talk to me, Rachel,” he whispered. The pain in his voice hammered my rib cage hard, piercing right through my heart. God, he thought this was about him. Of course he did. What else could set me off in such a short time? I nearly laughed at the absurdity of it. But it was his deep breath, followed by a shaky sigh, that did me in. To shatter his confidence so irrevocably that he not only feared touching me but also refrained from speaking? No, that wasn’t fair to him at all. He deserved better, so much better.
I swallowed thickly, my throat convulsing around invisible cotton balls. It took two tries to clear my throat before I could start, and even then, my voice cracked. “I need to t-tell you about my ex.”
Will remained silent while I told him how I met Ryan, when we started dating, how things began as a fairy tale and ended in disaster, and then how he refused to accept that we weren’t together. I detailed what happened to the only two men I associated with after our breakup, explained why I stopped dating, and then showed him the texts on my phone from the last few weeks.
“And now, I think you might be in danger too,” I concluded with a gesture to the flowers and the card on the floor. He stood and strode over to read it. I hadn’t realized how close he’d been to me on the ground until his body heat disappeared, leaving me shivering. He’d sat beside me with his back against the wall, arms folded over his drawn-up knees, listening with an unreadable expression.
The pity I expected never came, which helped me steady my emotions. My eyes burned from the aftermath of crying so hard, and I likely resembled a drowned cat, but at least the blubbering had stopped.
“I’m so sorry for dragging you into this,” I whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.” I bit my lip to keep it from trembling. No way would I break down again.
Will set the card on the table and stalked toward me with an emotion I never wanted to see directed at me. Fury. I deserved it for putting him in this situation, but it hurt nonetheless. At least it wasn’t pity. My eyes fell to my hands as he crouched in front of me. It was cowardly, but I couldn’t bear to watch what came next. Accusations, yelling, guilt . . .
“Rachel.” His soft tone did not match the thunderous expression I’d seen only seconds ago. Nor did the featherlight touch against my hand. “Don’t apologize on his behalf ever again.”
That was not what I expected him to say at all. Confusion mingled with my unease, creasing my brow. What?
“You didn’t drag me into anything, and none of this is your fault.” He gently tipped my chin to meet his gaze. It was less stormy than I expected, but anger colored his features and tightened his lips. “Thank you for telling me. For trusting me.”
“You’re not mad?” I asked, incredulous.
“Oh, I’m furious, but not with you.” He cupped my cheeks and stared deep into my eyes. “You’re a strong woman, Rachel. To tell me what you just did? I know that wasn’t easy. If anything, I’m proud and floored by your courage.” His thumbs swept beneath my lashes as he placed a tender kiss against my forehead. “Do you think he’s in Paris?”
I cleared the emotion from my throat. “I don’t know. Mark is researching for me.”
“Mark?”
Right. I hadn’t gotten to that part yet. “Remember how I mentioned being closer to my brother’s best friend than to my brother?” At his nod, I continued. “His name is Mark. He’s the one who helped me escape Ryan the first time.” I shivered at the memory. The pain. Will settled in front of me, his knees braced on either side of mine like a protective cage, shielding me from my past. I pressed into him, craving his gentleness.
“I told you he, R-Ryan, preferred emotional over physical pain, but the day I left . . .” I coughed again to settle the uncertainty stirring inside. I’m safe. “That, well, that was the first and only time he knocked me out.” I cradled my stomach on instinct, and Will observed the move. “He slapped me first, forcing me to the ground, and then he kicked me so hard that he cracked my rib and knocked the wind out of me. Then he . . .” I rubbed my neck.
“He choked you,” Will murmured.
“Yes. It was one of his favorite forms of . . . of . . . pain. But this time he didn’t let go, and when I woke up, he was gone.” It’d been the most horrifying experience of my life, not being able to breathe and seeing that dead look in his eyes that said he had no intention of ever letting me go. I thought he was going to kill me that day. And when he didn’t, I vowed never to be in that situation again.
“I can’t even remember what set him off, something about me working too many hours, but I’d never seen him so angry. I called Mark that night, told him I needed help, and he picked me up. He never asked any questions, but he knew, and he offered me his apartment as a safe haven. He’s with the FBI, or so he says, and travels a lot. It worked for a few days until Ryan found me. I still don’t know how, but I suspect he followed me home from work.”
I shook my head, not wanting to digress. “Anyway, I’ve told you the rest, about how he has never accepted that we’re not together. And as you can see, he still feels I’m his.” I waved to the flowers again.
“And Mark is checking to see if Ryan is in Paris?”
“Yeah. He has access to certain resources, hence why I think his FBI cover story is bullshit.” Not that it was relevant to this conversation—well, not much anyway. “I called him when I saw the flowers. He gave me a card with this mysterious number to call if I ever needed him after what happened three years ago, and I didn’t know what else to do, so I
used it.”
“It was the right thing to do, although I’m still not quite sure what he’s going to do.”
Despite the direness of our conversation, I had to smile. “I never know what Mark’s going to do, but I trust him.”
Will considered me for a long moment and nodded. “Then I’ll trust him too.”
“What?”
“If you trust him, I trust him.” So simple, so earnest. “Now, what else did he say?”
“Uh, he ordered me to tell you because you have resources, and he felt comfortable enough with that to not be on the next flight here.” I frowned on that last bit. I’d been so caught up in the “Tell Will” part that I hadn’t considered his flippant comment about hopping a flight to France. Such a Mark thing to say.
“I like him already,” Will murmured. “And he’s right. I need to make a few calls, but I want to go about our day as if none of this happened.”
I started. “Excuse me?”
“If Ryan is in Paris, then we need him to assume it’s business as usual between us. It’ll keep him calmer, and, hopefully, rational, which is a term I use lightly in his regard.” The face he made would have provoked a laugh from me if it weren’t regarding Ryan. “We’ll keep our routine,” he continued. “We’ll go shopping, do a little sightseeing, and maybe have dinner somewhere. He’s not going to make a public scene, because he’s a politician who knows better than that. So we enjoy our day, the best we can, and don’t let him spoil your first trip to France.”
“You’re serious.”
“Very.”
“You want me to pretend like I don’t have an insane stalker of an ex hunting me down?”
“Yep.”
“And if he pops up?”
“You let me deal with that.”
I started to shake my head. “You don’t understand, Will. His family has connections to all sorts of people and government organizations, and I don’t think they are all legal.” Some of the family friends I met while we were dating did not strike me as the type of friends Ryan made in the Boy Scouts.
He leveled me with a look. “You think I’m afraid of an influential family?”
Right. Okay. “But the Mershano family owns an international business. Ryan’s entire livelihood is built on the back of politics, which isn’t the same. They don’t fight fair.”
Will snorted. “Trust me, they’re more alike than you realize. I’m not afraid of him, Rachel. He might have a slew of friends, but I do, too, and, darlin’, when it comes to you, I’ll never fight fair.”
The look in his eyes when he said those last few words was so fierce that I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Holy shit. I couldn’t decide if I liked that look or if I should fear it. Intensity poured from him as he continued to study me, letting me see the harder side of him that hid beneath a veneer of charm. This was the man groomed by an influential empire, the one who ran in similar circles to Ryan.
I swallowed. That look served as a reminder of how alike they could be and also demonstrated how different they were from one another. Ryan luxuriated in his family money and hadn’t worked a hard day in his life, while Will fought for everything he owned despite having access to an easy way out. One opted for politics, while the other chose to challenge himself to try something new.
“Okay,” I agreed.
“Okay to having a normal day?” he asked, clarifying.
I nodded. “Yes, as normal as it can be.”
His dimples flashed for the first time since he entered my room. “Oh, I fully take that as a challenge, darlin’. I promise you won’t be thinking of any man except me by the end of the day.”
Only Will would find a way to turn this situation into something bordering on amusement. I almost smiled, but I wasn’t quite there yet. The fact that I was so close, however, told me he would have no problem fulfilling his promise. Still, I couldn’t let him win that easily. “So cocky.”
“Confident,” he corrected. “Now, how about you come over to my suite to shower and change while I talk to a few of my friends.” He stressed the word my so I knew what that meant. Ryan isn’t the only one with contacts.
He pushed to his feet and held out a hand to help me up. I went without hesitating.
Trust, he had said the other night. I hadn’t understood what he meant, but I did now. He knew all along that I was hiding something, that I was on the verge of opening up—but withdrawing—and now all my barriers were down. No more fighting, no more hiding. It was time to live again. Freely.
22
Fashion Show
I studied the dress in the mirror and frowned. Will was right about shopping being a good distraction. I walked out and narrowed my eyes at his relaxed form on the couch. Because yeah, apparently, this designer boutique he’d dragged me into had a formal waiting area for wealthy men.
“No.” I had to say it on principle. The dress was lovely; it clung to my curves in a subtle way that still made it business appropriate, and the blue popped against my skin. It even hit at my knees, making it a respectable length. But it was in no way worth the price tag.
He looked me over with keen interest. “Oh, yes.”
“Tell me again why this is better than my skirt suit.”
“Because it’s French.”
“Still not following that logic.”
“Fashion and appearance are a staple in France, and even more so in business.” At my raised eyebrow, he continued. “The French associates dress with status and success, which means we need to show up in style. Hence . . .” He waved a hand at my dress.
I pursed my lips. “Surely there are less expensive stores.”
“Of course, but in France, you buy the best you can afford.”
Aha! “Well, I can’t afford this.” Too bad, so sad. I started to turn, when his retort froze me in place.
“Perhaps, but I can, and you’re directly associated with me as my legal counsel. We’re buying the dress and the two you tried on before it.”
Damn it. I’d loved those, too, but I kept putting them back because of the cost.
“We’ll need shoes as well, and lingerie, of course. Assuming you want more stockings?” Even without looking at him, I knew he was eyeing the ones on my legs.
“And what are you shopping for?” He had yet to try anything on or search for his own clothes. We spent the morning at a café near the Eiffel Tower, then took a long walk around it for sightseeing before we meandered this way to what he referred to as the hottest shopping area in all of Paris. What he really meant was “most expensive.” Though, the clothes were lovely.
“Are you eager for me to model some things for you?” he teased.
I looked over my shoulder at him. “Actually, yes. I am.” If he wanted to distract me from the Ryan situation, he should model for me naked. No way would I be able to think of anything else with all his muscular perfection on display.
Challenge lit his eyes. “I’ll model for you if you model for me.”
Did I say the naked thing out loud, or did he just read that from my eyes? “But I am modeling for you.” I gestured innocently to my dress in an attempt to weigh his reaction.
“Lingerie,” was his single-word reply. My cheeks heated.
“That’s hardly a fair trade.”
He arched that arrogant brow of his. “You didn’t ask what I would be modeling in return, gorgeous.”
“And what are you offering?”
His elbows went to his knees as he leaned toward me. “Whatever you want, clothing or otherwise. Your choice.”
“Anything I want?” I repeated. “Are you sure you want to play that game with me, Mershano?”
“Absolutely, because I’ll be the one selecting the lingerie you model.” My lips parted at his boldness. His gaze ran over me hungrily as he added, “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll pick out stockings for you too.”
When he said he wanted to forget what happened this morning, at least for the day, he wasn’t joking. I expected all sort
s of awkwardness between us, but he treated me just as he usually did. Sexy as always. I considered his offer. There were some ridiculous outfits in the first store we went to. Seeing him in one of those would be more than worth a few poses in lingerie sets for him.
“You’re on,” I said decidedly. If anything, it would be a fun way to spend our afternoon, and I was determined to do just that.
After reflecting on this morning’s events, I concluded that Ryan was trying to manipulate me. He wanted to ruin this trip for me, and he knew the best way to do that was to scare me into submission through a creepy romantic gesture. Ignoring the flowers in my room and enjoying my day was the opposite of what he wanted. Leaving the hotel today with my head held high loosened a notch of Ryan’s control because, rather than wallow in fear, I decided to live. I suspected Will knew all of that already, which was why he suggested we venture out today.
He paid for the dresses and asked for a courier to deliver them to his room at the hotel. We hadn’t given up the one in my name, but we had no intention of using it.
Before we left this morning, Mershano Suites confirmed that the flowers were delivered to the reception and they carried them up to the room. Will gave the staff a photo of Ryan and asked them to notify him immediately if they spotted anyone resembling my ex wandering the grounds. I wasn’t there for the discussion, but I saw the reverence casted his way as we left. He might not be involved in the management chain for the hotel, but they knew who he was and respected him for it.
“How about here,” Will said as we walked by a boutique that catered to men. A peek in the windows showed an array of fun options for his future fashion show.
I opened the door while replying, “Oh, this will be fun.”
Thirty minutes later, Will headed off to the fitting area with a shake of his head while I made myself comfortable on the plush couch. A sharply dressed tailor stood nearby, ready to assist Will with any suits he intended to purchase. I picked a few, mainly because the man looked amazing in them, but I also threw in some random colorful outfits and scarves just to tease him. Then he walked out in one of the odd combinations, and my jaw dropped.