Bound Beneath His Pain: A Dirty Little Secrets Novel

by Stacey Kennedy

  I arch a brow at her. “Random?” I chew the carrot and swallow, then shake my head. “No, I can’t say I do much that’s random.”

  “Hmm” is all she says.

  I’m not sure what’s on that pretty little mind of hers, but I know exactly what’s on mine. “Tomorrow night I’m hosting a gala at Phoenix for my charity that supports breast cancer research. Would you come with me?”

  She’s reaching for more food when she pauses halfway and looks at me. “A gala on a Monday night? That’s unusual.”

  I glance away from her, grabbing a piece of chicken, not shocked that out of everything I said she focused on the one thing I didn’t say. “The event falls on a different day every year.”

  Of course she doesn’t miss the importance of my declaration. “An anniversary of something, then?”

  “My mother’s death.”

  Allie’s eyes soften naturally in the way that they do. “That’s a sweet way to honor her and make what could be a sad day a little brighter.” I attempt to smile in gratitude that she understands me, but when she adds, “I’m just not sure I’m ready to go so…public,” it’s impossible to hide my disappointment.

  “Why?” I gently ask.

  She sighs. “It would change a lot for me. I couldn’t hide…”

  I stay silent, reaching for a cashew and tossing it in my mouth, allowing her to lead this conversation. My focus narrows on her, and I hear no sounds in her condo but her shallow breaths. The light coming from the fridge highlights the side of her bowed head, and the long strands of her hair are nearly curtaining her expression from me, yet not enough to hide her pained stare.

  She draws in a huge deep breath before addressing me again. “I have to tell you something that I probably should’ve told you before.” Her head lifts to me, her voice strong. “Darius Bennett is my half-brother.”

  I ponder how to deal with her honesty. I decide there are enough secrets between us on my end, no need to drag hers into it. “Yes. I know.”

  Her brows draw together. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because it was an unimportant detail.” And I would be breaking my word to Darius if I told her without her acknowledging the truth first. Dating Allie is a complication that I need to sort out with Darius, but I’d never given him my word that I wouldn’t date Allie; I’d only given him my word that I wouldn’t tell her unprompted that I knew of their connection.

  She cocks her head, watching me intently before grabbing out a piece of chicken from the container and feeding it to me. “It doesn’t bother you that I never told you?”

  “Why would it?” I finish chewing, thinking I have too many of my own secrets than to pass judgment on someone else for having some. “But it does make me curious as to why you would hide such a thing about yourself.”

  “Now, that is a complicated answer.” She hesitates while she grabs a cashew and slides it between her pouty lips. “Sometimes when people know that I’m Darius’s half-sister, it can change their perception of me.”

  “Which you don’t like?”

  She half shrugs. “It’s not the life I’m used to. All the fame. All the money. I didn’t grow up like that.”

  Darius never told me details about Allie’s life, only that she was his half-sister. “What do you mean exactly?”

  “I mean that I lived very simply growing up,” she explains. “We didn’t buy designer clothes, or have fancy dinner parties, or have housekeepers and things like that. We had hand-me-downs from my mother’s friends, family dinners every night, and weekly chores. I didn’t know any other way until after my parents died in a plane crash when I was fifteen.”

  I stroke her knee, the bare skin closest to me. “I’m sorry you lost them, I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay.” She shrugs again. “You of anyone knows that sometimes life hands you a shit deal and you have to pick up your socks and move on.”

  “This is something I wish we didn’t have in a common.”

  She gives me a sad smile, reaches for a piece of chicken and feeds me. “Anyway, my mom taught me the importance of the little things in life. Things that often get missed when money is involved. When she was married to Darius’s father, she told me, she learned quick that happiness isn’t something that can be bought. So, it was weird for me when I moved in with Darius.”

  I’m even more curious about her past now. “Darius took you in after your parents passed away, then?”

  “He was kind of a hero to me.” She smiles sweetly, and the love for Darius is there in the depths of her eyes. “When he heard that I would go into foster care if a family member didn’t step in, he came forward, without ever having met me before.”

  This I didn’t know. I assumed Darius would be overprotective as her half-brother, now it appears he’s a father figure to her, too. “Why didn’t you meet him before?” I ask, wanting a full understanding of their family dynamic before our meeting tomorrow.

  “Long story short, his mega-rich father made sure my mom couldn’t see Darius again, as revenge for divorcing him.”

  I hear the distaste that fills her voice. And now I’m to beginning to see why Allie doesn’t value monetary things. Money ruined her family.

  I listen intently as she continues. “Darius tried his best for me, but he was also a twenty-five-year-old guy who didn’t know what in the hell to do with a fifteen-year-old girl suddenly living in his house.”

  “You seem to have turned out okay,” I state.

  She laughs softly. “Thanks. I think so, too.” The sweet sounds of her amusement fade away with a long heavy sigh. “But because I’ve experienced both lifestyles, I learned I prefer living simply.”

  “Why?”

  She reaches for another broccoli and feeds me. “The thing that bothered me most is that once I had money, people started to look at me differently—wanting things from me.” When I cock my head, confused, she explains, “You know, they didn’t like me for me but because of the money I had in the bank.”

  I silently nod, knowing the look she’s speaking of, because I see it daily. It happens when a person stops looking at you like you’re an equal. When a person gravitates to you for all the wrong reasons. When they don’t want to be your friend out of genuine desire, but because your friendship gives them something. I realize, for the first time, this is what I like about Allie: she doesn’t look at me like that.

  She shrugs and adds, “I know it’s kinda weird and all, but I like being seen. I need to be seen for who I am.”

  I stroke her bare knee again. “I don’t think that’s weird at all.”

  “You don’t?”

  I shake my head slowly. “No, I don’t.”

  She gives me her sweet smile, a gleam in her eye. “Well, after I moved out on my own, I decided to stick to the life I grew up with instead of the life Darius could give me. Now I’m surrounded by people who see me, and love me for who I am, not what I represent.” She tosses a piece of chicken into her mouth. “That’s why I don’t reveal that we’re sister and brother.”

  And until we’re serious, I can’t take that risk, is what she doesn’t need to say. “You don’t need to explain further,” I say, gently. “I understand.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.” I lean forward, dragging my knuckles across her warm cheek. “You’ll be put under a microscope the second the tabloids learn of you. And I’d give it less than twenty-four hours before they know everything about you, so yes, I understand why you want to protect yourself.” Because I protect my secrets too—only my reasons for doing that are far less pure than hers.

  She leans into my hand. “I’m not saying never, okay? Just not right now. I need a little time to figure all this out and tell the people I need to about Darius.”

  I nod, not needing to hear more. I get it.

  “Wait…” Her head suddenly moves away from my hand, hard eyes probing mine. “If you knew about Darius, does that mean that he knows about us?”

&nb
sp; “He doesn’t yet, but I plan to tell him tomorrow.”

  “But you don’t—”

  I press my finger against her lips. “I do business with him, Allie. It’s out of respect, not because I need his blessing.”

  She watches me for a moment and then kisses my finger before leaning away. “I guess you’re right. Besides, he’ll probably be thrilled about this.”

  I sincerely doubt that. “How so?”

  “Because you are rich so he’ll stop worrying I’m one step away from becoming homeless.”

  I chuckle softly, understanding Darius’s point of view. I would love to give Allie a hired driver, ensuring she’s always safe. Give her a higher income to take away worries of money, because I can. To set her up in a house that I think she deserves. But I also like the fact that Allie doesn’t need any of those things to be happy, and I like that she doesn’t expect me to take care of her. There’s something very sexy about her strength and independence.

  I grab a piece of chicken, tossing it into my mouth, chewing it longer than necessary, allowing me to think over the meeting with Darius tomorrow. Allie believes he’ll accept our relationship easily. I know he won’t. But I must do whatever necessary to ensure he’ll be okay with this. I can’t not have her, and I will never walk away. I tried that once. It sent me on a bender, where all of me shattered.

  “Okay, enough with all the serious stuff,” Allie says, drawing my attention. “Tell me what Micah Holt does for fun.”

  “Mixed martial arts.” I grin, once again hearing the music coming from the living room. “Levi and I get into the cage daily.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I said fun. I can’t imagine getting your ass kicked by your driver is enjoyable.”

  “First, Levi is more family than employee. Second, he rarely kicks my ass.” I had to get that straight. “But to give you the answer you want, when I can, I spend some time at a good friend’s pub. Have you ever been to O’Keefe’s?”

  She nods. “Liv loves that place. We’ve been there a bunch of times.”

  “Gabe, my roommate at Harvard, owns it.”

  “Cool.” She gazes at me firmly, chewing the food in her mouth. “What else?”

  “Charity events.”

  “What else?”

  I stare at her, and even I acknowledge how pathetic I’ve become, not having more answers to give her. All I do is work, or network with others who help me make money.

  “That’s it?” she asks, eyes wide.

  I nod.

  She pinches her lips, regarding me. “We need to fix this immediately.” She jumps to her feet, the sheet trailing after her while she’s moving toward her bedroom. “Come on. We gotta get dressed.”

  “Where are we going?” I rise to my feet.

  She peeks over her shoulder. “To do the unthinkable for Micah Holt.”

  “Oh, yeah.” I grin at her. “What’s that?”

  “Something random.”

  Allie

  An hour later, Micah holds the safety bar open for me as we exit the Ferris wheel, and mutters, “That was anticlimactic.”

  I snort a laugh, raising my voice over the chimes of bells dinging through the air. “Maybe for you. My heart is ready to beat right out of my chest.” I really hate heights.

  He chuckles. “How about we stay at ground level then, hmm?”

  I nod. “Yes, please.”

  He readjusts his baseball cap, then takes my hand into the strength of his, leading us away through the dark, clear night.

  We pass the Tilt-a-Whirl and hear screams of joy carrying over the starry sky, when something catches Micah’s eye. He tugs me forward, and soon I’m standing in front of the water race game. He releases my hand and takes out a five-dollar bill from his wallet, slapping it down on the table. “I’m in,” he says.

  “Get ready to race,” the carny yells out to no one in particular.

  Micah picks up the water gun and grins over his shoulder at me. “Prepare to be wowed.”

  I chuckle, loving seeing him this way, and glad my instincts to take him to the carnival were spot-on. There’s a twinkle in his eye, and his smile is a bit brighter than I’ve seen before. And I know why that is. Tonight isn’t about business or someone wanting something from him. It’s just about me and him, and I like it, too. “Okay. I’m ready. Wow me.” I stay back as the carny presses the button starting the game and the creepy clown heads begin moving from left to right.

  Micah widens his stance and raises the gun, taking aim. His T-shirt lifts a little, showing off the sexy flesh of his lower back. He’s dressed down in his workout pants, making him messier than usual. I decide I love him a little messy. In fact, I get the feeling he likes himself this way, too. His entire body is lax, like a giant weight of responsibility is lifted off him.

  Loud pings begin to echo the ringing and dinging of the game, breaking into my thoughts, and as clowns begin to fall over, I’m shaking my head in amazement. Is there anything this guy isn’t good at?

  “Winner,” the carny yells, when every clown is taken out.

  I clap my hands and whistle, and Micah drops the gun, taking me into a bold public kiss, as if he’d gone to war and come home missing me. When he breaks the kiss and leans away, I smile at him. “And just where did you learn to shoot like that?”

  He shoves his hands in his pockets. “My father liked to hunt. It’s the one thing we did together.”

  Tension creases his eyes whenever he speaks of his father, and while everyone has their own baggage, I can’t imagine ever talking about my parents and not having good memories to mention. My chest tightens at the thought, and even if it’s not my pain, I still feel it.

  “Name your prize,” the carny says, waving to the prizes hanging from the ceiling of the booth.

  Micah arches a brow at me. “Yours to pick, love.”

  “Ooh, lucky me.” I examine the big teddy bears and other stuffed animals. Though none of those compare to what fills my vision. “The cotton candy, please.”

  The carny hands me the plastic bag of blue and pink cotton candy, and I spin around to Micah. “Ever tried this?” I ask him.

  “No.” He frowns at the plastic bag. “And I’m not sure I want to.”

  “Oh, don’t knock it until you try it.” I exhale a long breath, glancing out at the crowd rushing by us. We have ridden every ride, and walked through the park twice and the noise is starting to get to me.

  My thoughts must’ve shown on my face, since Micah comments, “It’s loud.”

  “Somewhere quieter, then?”

  “Yeah, come this way.” He takes my hand and leads me toward the stone pathway behind the Ferris wheel. I’m anticipating a sudden snapping of lights, when a photographer captures Micah and me together. But then I nearly laugh at my own thoughts. No one would expect Micah to be here. I assume Micah himself wouldn’t expect to be here.

  We walk for a little bit, silent, hand in hand, as the warm breeze brushes across my face. Up ahead of us, the lights from the Golden Gate Bridge twinkle like stars in the night sky.

  Micah stops at one of the benches along the edge of the bay and we sit down, staring out at the quiet water. He drapes his arm across the back of the bench, resting his hand on my shoulder. “So, carnivals are your idea of fun?” he asks.

  “Well, it’s one idea of fun.” I cross my legs, snuggling into his side, and open the bag of cotton candy. “You’ve never done anything like this before?”

  He accepts the piece of cotton candy I offer him, and I’m watching him intently when he places it into his mouth. He immediately frowns. “That’s disgusting.”

  “It is not,” I argue, tossing some into my mouth and moaning in delight when the sugary goodness melts against my tongue. He flinches, recoiling, and forcibly swallows, when I add, “Anyway, go on. You haven’t done anything like this before?”

  “The boarding school I went to as a child didn’t venture out to places like this.” His fingers begin trailing over my arm, up and down,
bringing a sense of relaxation, not a blaze of passion. Which I admit makes me happy. I like that he can set my body on fire, but I also like that it’s not all he can do to me. I’m warm, comfortable, and I like sitting next to him in a quiet moment together, when he continues, “We visited the wonders of the world and monuments for field trips, and things more educational.”

  “Those field trips must have been incredible, though.”

  “They were” is his reply.

  I note the longing in his voice. And I know that longing well. I remember having it myself when things began to change for me after I moved in with Darius. The constant wonder if you’ve missed out on something in your life. The difference being I made sure I didn’t miss out. I did what I wanted, what made me happy. I’m beginning to see that Micah never had that option.

  I offer him more cotton candy.

  He glares at my fingers. “No, one taste was enough.”

  I laugh and put the piece in my mouth, watching an elderly couple walking by us, hand in hand, before I turn my attention to Micah again. “Tell me something else I don’t know about you.”

  He’s watching the couple too, and only when they fade into the night does he answer me. “If you look just past the bridge, do you see that really bright light by the boat dock?”

  I squint my eyes, staring past all the twinkling lights. “I think so.”

  “That’s my house.”

  “Oh, wow.” Now I’m looking a little harder. I can’t see the house at all from where we sit, but the light from the bridge and his boathouse does show me something. “Is that your boat?”

  “Yeah, that’s Freedom.”

  “Freedom as in a relaxing day out?” I inquire.

  “No. That’s her name.”

  I get the feeling he doesn’t plan on saying much more on the matter, so I enjoy the quiet between us for now. But I conclude, with his structured life, his boat takes away from a stuffy reality. It makes me wonder even more about the man next to me. It makes me wonder how much he does because he wants to and how much he does because he has to and because people expect it of him. It makes me wonder if he’s ever done this, just sit and enjoy someone, talking about nothing in particular, not because you have to, but because you can. “Will you take me out on her sometime?” I ask.