by Kate Hewitt
And that was what scared her. She didn’t want to feel even an iota of that humiliation again, even if it was just in her own head. Didn’t want to have old memories rush back and ruin the present. And with this fledgling relationship still fragile and untested, she didn’t want to wreck it before it even got off the ground.
“We could order in,” Jaiven said lightly as the cab pulled in front of his brownstone. “What do you feel like? Pizza? Chinese?”
“Whatever you like,” Louise murmured. Her heart was starting to beat faster and her palms were damp.
This was so stupid, she thought as she got out of the cab and waited for Jaiven to unlock the front door. They were having a wonderfully normal, healthy evening as a couple. Hanging out, eating takeout, enjoying each other’s company. There was absolutely nothing to get freaked out about.
Not even sex.
“The door’s open,” Jaiven said, a hint of laughter in his voice, and Louise realized she’d just been standing in the street, staring.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, and came up the steps into his house. She followed him up the stairs to the airy living space, wandered around while Jaiven slid a few takeout menus from a drawer and handed them to her.
“Your pick.”
She gazed down at the various menus, the words blurring in front of her. “Do you ever cook?” she asked as he scrolled through some messages on his phone.
“Not really. Scrambled eggs and pasta are about it. What about you?”
“I prefer cereal or cheese on toast.”
“So takeout it is.” He looked up with a dazzlingly white smile, and for a moment her nervousness abated. She really liked this man. Really enjoyed his company. And really wanted him—in all sorts of ways. She just needed to stop overthinking things. Get out of her own head for a little while.
Jaiven phoned in their takeout order while Louise wandered around his apartment. She stopped in front of the bookshelves with the sculpture of white stone and twisted wire. She didn’t know what drew her to it exactly, but somehow it spoke to her. Maybe because she’d once known how it felt to be trapped like that.
And you’re still trapped—by your own memories. Your emotional hang-ups. You need to get over yourself, fast.
Jaiven tossed his phone on the sofa and came to stand next to her. “Should be about twenty minutes.”
“You said a friend made this sculpture,” she said, nodding to the stone. “Who was it?”
He tensed, only slightly, but Louise could still feel it. “A friend of mine from prison.”
She felt a jolt of surprise, because stupidly, she hadn’t actually thought about his prison sentence since he’d told her last night. She’d been so hung up on what she’d told him. “No wonder it feels trapped,” she said after a moment. She turned to him, saw how wary he looked. “How long were you in prison for?”
“Three years.”
She swallowed. “And then you must have started your own business right after.” He nodded, clearly not wanting to offer any more information. “And the woman who broke your heart,” Louise said softly. “Was she before or after?”
A pause, taut with tension. “After.”
“What happened?”
Jaiven shifted restlessly where he stood. “I’m not sure we should talk about this.”
She swallowed, felt a flash of pain behind her breastbone. “Because it’s so painful?”
‘No…because it’s not helpful. It’s in the past, Louise, and I want to think about the present. The future.”
“But the past affects who we are, what we think and feel and do. You told me that last night. And I want to understand you more, Jaiven. Know you more. I feel like you’re keeping things back from me.”
He jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, hunching his shoulders. “I don’t want to, but… I don’t want to overload what’s between us with everything that’s gone before. We can take our time, can’t we?”
“Yes, but—”
“In any case, I’m not sure telling you about Emily will help you learn any more about me. It was a brief relationship that I got over pretty quickly.”
“Yet you told me she broke your heart.”
He shrugged dismissively. “It felt like it at the time. But it wasn’t…” He shifted again, so clearly uncomfortable. “It wasn’t what you think.”
“Then tell me what it was.” Jaiven didn’t answer, and Louise asked, “How did you meet her?”
He let out a resigned sigh. “I delivered a package to her apartment, for her father. She answered the door.”
“This was a long time ago, then,” she said, and he nodded tersely. “I was twenty, just…just out of prison. I’d just set up my own business, but I was still delivering packages.”
“And so,” she said, trying not to let the jealousy and fear sound in her voice, “it was love at first sight?”
“Lust at first sight, perhaps,” Jaiven answered. “But I confused it with love.”
She shook her head, still trying for lightness and probably missing it by a mile. “That sounds pretty different from your MO lately. How did you get from falling in love—or thinking you fell in love—right away to one-night stands only?”
“One came from the other, I guess.”
“You mean you’ve chosen only to have casual sex since then because you didn’t want to be hurt again?”
Another shrug; he was definitely looking uncomfortable. “Maybe. But there’s no point in going over this, Louise. It was a long time ago and I’m over it. I was over it years ago.”
“Yet you never wanted to try for another relationship.”
His brows snapped together. “And neither did you, but I’m not asking you if you’re still pining over your ex-husband.”
“That’s because he hit me,” Louise retorted.
“All I’m saying is you have no reason to be jealous or worried or anything like that. I’ve chosen my lifestyle because I thought it worked. I thought it was what I needed, and that wasn’t just because of Emily.”
“What, then?”
He shrugged again; she could feel the tension vibrating through him. “Because…because of the mistakes I made. Because when I told Emily about being in a gang and going to prison, she was horrified. The look on her face… I never wanted to see someone look at me like that again.”
The raw note of pain in his voice had Louise suddenly blinking back tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “for pushing you into telling me all that. I told myself I wasn’t going to, but I just want to understand you, Jaiven. I want to know you more.”
“I know.” His jaw was tight even as he gave her a bleak smile. “But you might not say that if you actually did know me.”
She took a step toward him, needing to touch him. “What are you scared of?” she whispered. “What happened to make you afraid that I’m going to look at you like Emily did?”
He closed his eyes and shook his head, and Louise knew she needed to let it go. She’d pushed too much already. “I hope you tell me eventually,” she said quietly. “I hope you trust me enough for that.”
The doorbell rang, and Jaiven turned quickly to answer it. Louise let out a shuddery breath of relief. All this emotional intensity was exhausting.
*
I hope you tell me eventually. I hope you trust me enough for that.
She’d cut him to the quick with that one, Jaiven thought grimly as he signed for the food. He’d told Louise a lot about himself, more than he had to anyone, but he hadn’t told her everything. And even though part of him had been desperate to tell her, to come completely clean and be finally, thankfully absolved, he’d still held back. No matter what Louise had said about trust, Jaiven knew all bets were off when it came to what he’d done. Especially with Louise’s past. Could he really expect otherwise? Did he deserve otherwise?
“Thanks,” Jaiven said to the delivery guy, his voice terse, and he took the pizza box. Time to stop raking up all those bad memories. They had eno
ugh to deal with already.
He kept it light as they ate, and Louise seemed fine with that. Teasing banter he could do, although watching Louise slurp cheese off her pizza was doing crazy things to his libido. He wanted her so much his palms itched. His groin ached. He’d been in a semihard state for most of the day, and he didn’t think he could go much longer without touching her. Making love to her.
By the time they’d finished their food, Louise looked rather adorably relaxed, her feet tucked up under her as she curled up on the sofa, her hair spread out against the pillows.
“Come here,” he said, letting the sensual intent come through in his voice, and Louise’s pupils flared.
She came, scooting over so Jaiven could pull her into his arms, her legs sprawled across his lap. “Now, that’s better,” he said, and kissed her.
She tasted spicy and sweet and he needed more. He deepened the kiss, telling himself to take it slowly, to let Louise set the pace, but God help him, he was so hungry for her. It was physically painful to slow himself down, to slide his hand through her hair and let it rest on her shoulder instead of slipping downward to cup the ripe fullness of her breast.
After a tiny pause Louise put her arms around him, kissed him back, but he could still feel her hesitation. Her uncertainty. Damn it.
She was still afraid of him. And why shouldn’t she be, after the way he’d treated her? After the things he’d done?
Still he tried, kissing his way along her jaw, pressing his lips to the hollow of her throat. He heard her breathing hitch, felt her response shudder through her. She wanted him, he knew that. He certainly didn’t need for her to say it. But her hands had gone still on his shoulders and he knew she wasn’t as into this as he was. Wasn’t connected and present.
Since when had he cared about that?
He couldn’t remember ever concerning himself with the emotional state of one of his bed partners. As long as they’d been ready and willing, he’d been fine. But he didn’t want Louise’s body without her mind and maybe even her heart.
And how could he have any of that when he hadn’t come clean?
He thought she might sleep with him tonight simply because she knew he wanted to, and maybe she wanted to want to. Or maybe she would just fall into the old pattern of trying to please a man.
But he didn’t want that.
Even though it half killed him, he slowly eased away and stared down at her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair rumpled, her eyes wide and bright with desire. Her lips were pink and swollen and made him want to nip one lightly between his teeth. She did instead, nibbling her lower lip as she gazed up at him.
“Maybe not tonight, huh?” he said, trying to sound wry instead of painfully disappointed. It was going to be a cold, cold shower for him a little bit later.
“I want to…” she began, but she shook her head.
“Maybe you want to want to. It’s okay, Louise. We have time. We’ll get there.” He hoped they’d get there.
“I’ll call you a cab,” he said as he rose from the sofa. He could feel Louise’s stare on his back as he slid his phone out of his jeans’ pocket.
“Okay,” she whispered, and disappointment twisted inside him even though he knew it was unreasonable. He’d wanted her to want to stay.
Louise scooted off the sofa and he started cleaning up their dinner dishes. No big deal, he told himself. You’re a grown-up. Get over it. She’s not rejecting you.
But she still might.
Suppressing a groan, Jaiven turned to throw the containers in the trash.
A few minutes later he said goodbye to Louise, kissing her gently before seeing her into the cab he’d called. Then he headed upstairs for the mother of all cold showers.
*
Anxiety roiled through Louise as she headed back toward Manhattan. She’d been a little tense when Jaiven had started kissing her, all right, but why had he pulled away so quickly? Basically told her to leave? She was never going to get over this ridiculous hang-up if he didn’t give her a chance.
But maybe he didn’t want a chance. Maybe he wanted the sexually confident woman who showed up at his apartment in a trench coat and heels. Never mind that that had just been a fantasy. Jaiven might not be able to deal with the real Louise.
And why should he?
With a sound halfway between a groan and a sigh, Louise leaned her head back against the vinyl seat. Maybe she should have asked to stay, even tried to seduce him. Suggested some new kind of fantasy.
Like vanilla sex in a bed where I don’t feel afraid and you cherish me.
Maybe she should have, but the truth was she was too insecure. Their relationship felt too new, too fragile.
And she had no idea if time would change that.
The next morning, after a restless night, she headed to campus, and as soon as her first morning lecture was over, she phoned Nora Grant.
“Nora, it’s Louise Jensen.”
“Have you learned something about Harlow?”
“Something,” Louise agreed cautiously. “And I hope we’ll have more soon. But if you have a recent photo of Harlow, that could be useful.”
“Sure, I can bring it by your office today,” Nora answered. “Can you tell me what this is about?”
“Why don’t you and Addison both come by with the photo, and then we can talk?”
Nora agreed, and Louise hung up the phone, anxiety churning once more inside her. Forget her own hang-ups with her relationship with Jaiven, where was Harlow? And what if she really was in terrible danger?
This wasn’t just about her marriage, as she’d intimated to Jaiven. It was about her and Chelsea. It was about her having walked away from someone once, ignoring the fear in her eyes, pursuing her own path. Losing her sister for fifteen long years.
She couldn’t walk away from someone who might need her. Not again. It might be easier to assume Harlow was living it up on a yacht somewhere in the Mediterranean, but if she found out later that she’d actually been in trouble? Had needed someone to believe and help her?
She’d forgiven herself once already for walking away from someone who’d needed her. She didn’t think she’d be able to do it again.
Sighing, she reached for a pile of essays.
A couple of hours later, Nora and Addison showed up at her office, both of them looking as anxious as she felt and very young. Nora handed over the photo without preamble.
“Why do you need the photo, anyway?” Addison asked abruptly, then ducked her head. “Sorry. I’m just worried. Thank you for looking into this.”
“I’m not looking into it, really,” Louise answered. “A—a friend of mine is.” She studied the photo of Harlow; it was a picture of her with Nora and Addison at some college party, their arms around each other, their heads thrown back as they laughed with the kind of carefree abandon only the young truly felt.
The photograph captured a moment, she thought sorrowfully, of freedom and laughter and joy. Harlow in particular looked as if she’d surrendered to that freedom; her eyes sparkled and her pose was completely uninhibited.
“So what have you found out already?” Nora asked, and Louise looked up.
“Not very much,” she warned them. “You know she was last seen on a yacht at a party held by Treffen, Howell, and Smith.”
“Yes?” Addison leaned forward, anxiety shading her eyes.
“That yacht has been located in Nice. And it’s owned by the royal family of Ruyi.”
“What—” Nora expelled the single word in something that sounded like outrage. Louise glanced at her curiously as Addison let out a rush of breath.
“Ruyi? I’ve never even heard of that.”
“It’s a small country in the Middle East,” Nora said shortly, and Louise’s curiosity—and unease—deepened.
“You’re pretty good with geography,” she remarked, and Nora shrugged, her gaze sliding away from Louise’s. She looked uncomfortable now, shifting in her seat before she forced her gaze back to Lou
ise.
“So why do you need the photo, exactly?”
“My friend is in shipping and has access to the CCTV cameras at the harbor in Nice. He’s going to check recent footage and find out if Harlow has been there.”
“But if the yacht is owned by some royal family…” Addison gave a helpless, dispirited shrug. “I mean, that’s stretching it, isn’t it? To think they’re involved?”
“They’re not involved,” Nora answered sharply. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t lend their yacht out.”
Addison looked skeptical, and Louise raised her eyebrows. “How do you know the royal family of Ruyi isn’t involved, Nora?”
Nora bit her lip. “It seems improbable,” she allowed carefully. “I mean, like Addison said, a royal family…”
“They’re as capable as anyone else of doing bad things,” Louise answered. “It would be naive to think otherwise.”
“We still shouldn’t be making assumptions,” Nora answered with a rather wobbly tilt of her chin. Louise sat back in her chair, considering the young woman before her. Nora had always appeared pragmatic and hardheaded before, but now she looked shaken. Scared in a way she hadn’t before, and Louise had no idea why.
“There’s nothing we can do until we check the CCTV footage,” she said after a moment. “If we find Harlow on that, we can go to the police. They’ll have to take notice then.”
“Will they?” Addison asked, her voice edged with bitterness. “Don’t you think my father bought off a cop or two in his time?”
“We don’t know this is about your father,” Louise answered. “It might have nothing to do—”
“Of course it does,” Nora interjected. “Why do you think Harlow went after that law internship, anyway? We all thought it was kind of weird at the time. She didn’t seem the corporate type at all. And the last time I’d spoken with her she was all hyped-up. I couldn’t tell what she was excited about, but it was something. And not a guy,” she stated, cutting across any objection Louise might have been thinking of. “Harlow wasn’t the type to get all worked up over a guy.”
“No, she wasn’t, at least from what I knew of her,” Louise agreed after a moment. “But I’d rather this whole thing was nothing but her going after a boyfriend than the alternative.”