Begin with You

by Claudia Burgoa

  Linda was the one who realized that I was doing a lot better once I left the hellhole where I was born. A fact Wes didn’t want to acknowledge even when I spelled it out clearly for him. Now, I’m here, back at the gates of the underworld. A part of me knows that I’m not that kid anymore, but another part, the one filled with fear, can’t seem to grasp that I’m free.

  Am I free?

  “I should’ve left the light on,” I excuse my lapse.

  There must be a way to stop them. I was able to let it go for five years. Why would I let the memories take over my life now?

  Why would I let them threaten my present and my future?

  Because here, he’s closer. If he sees me again, he might drag me back to that house.

  “Didn’t I suggest that before we fell asleep?” Wes says closing his eyes. “You didn’t want to count either.”

  I did it—in my head. It was embarrassing enough to hold on to the teddy bear that Will brought me the day after my first night with them. I’m twenty-three and still hugging a bear like a toddler and needing the lights on to keep the monsters away.

  As I unwrap my granola bar, I shrug. “It’s been almost a year since I slept with the lights on; I only use my nightlights.”

  Will gifted me a set of nightlights for my twenty-second birthday. They’re shaped like princess crowns. He always said that I was their princess. Like his son, he worked hard to make sure I felt safe. He was an amazing man and father figure.

  “Tomorrow we’ll make sure they’re on.” Wes climbs on my bed and takes my free hand, counting my fingers from one to five several times.

  “Why are you so good to me, Wes Ahern?”

  “Just because …” he shrugs and kisses my hand.

  Sometimes, I wish things between us were different. There are nights when I pretend I’m someone else and that we’re together. I close my eyes, and for a brief moment, I imagine his arms around me—his lips on my mouth kissing me senseless until I forget every bad thing that’s happened to me.

  Some days I wonder what it would be like to kiss him, to be touched with the tenderness that I imagine he’s capable of.

  He wouldn’t hurt me.

  He’d love me.

  Wouldn’t he?

  But how could that be when he’s so perfect, and I’m … me.

  “You should go home,” I say getting out of the bed, trying to keep my distance from him. “Get some sleep.”

  “That’s it? You’re going to give up and stop sleeping? Next thing you know you’ll be sporting dark circles under those pretty eyes.”

  “There’s always concealer,” I wink at him.

  He jumps out of the bed and takes me in his arms. Wes kisses the top of my head and rocks me from side to side. I want to push him away and ask for more all at the same time. This man is my best friend in the world. He’s understanding, tender, and protective. And, with his dark blue eyes, jet black hair, his hawkish nose and that concrete jaw, I can’t help but be attracted to him.

  I’m enamored with his prince charming charisma and his protective heart.

  Every time he’s around, I pretend not to feel anything for him. Like right now, while he holds me. My barely covered breasts press against his soft, warm, sculpted torso. I can feel his muscular ridges. I itch to trace every line, kiss every inch of him. It’s these moments when my blood roars through my veins, awakening the woman inside me.

  What would it be like to be reckless and just kiss his bare skin?

  “I wish, …” I mumble closing my eyes.

  “What do you wish?”

  I wish I could kiss you. I want to feel your lips on my skin and your hands sliding down my body.

  “Nothing,” I say sobering up from the fantasy.

  He’s the only guy I’ve been attracted to. No other man holds a candle to him. Maybe it’s just gratitude toward him and there aren’t any real feelings.

  I try to fight his hold. This shouldn’t be happening. Nothing can ever happen between the two of us. If only I weren’t so messed up. My legs shake as my heartbeat accelerates. I bite the inside of my cheek hard to stop myself from having an anxiety attack, stopping only when I taste copper in my saliva.

  My body, my mind, and my mouth are about to betray me. At least one of them is ready to take a leap of faith and kiss him or tell him how I feel.

  I huff, annoyed at my stupidity and myself. Without saying a word, I walk away from him, deciding that another shower is in order. I enter the bathroom and lock the door behind me.

  “Abby, let’s talk,” he knocks on the door.

  “Go back home, Wes,” I encourage him to leave me. “I have to unpack the boxes, and you need to rest.”

  “Do you think I can go back to sleep knowing you’re having an anxiety attack?”

  “I’m not having one,” I lie.

  This is a combination of panic and desire—a lust that runs deep inside my core and which I can’t allow myself to act on. Most likely, I’d lose my shit if I tried.

  Abby, stop fantasizing. Love isn’t possible for someone like you.

  12

  Wes

  With a frustrated sigh, I press the bridge of my nose and stare at the latest email from the board. I’ve been taking too much shit from these assholes.

  “Good morning, brother dearest,” Sterling opens the heavy oak door to my office without announcing himself—or knocking for that matter.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  His dark blonde hair is tussled, and he’s wearing a raggedy t-shirt with a pair of worn out jeans. Did he just come from working? No, he probably rolled out of bed and decided to ask me for money. Not that he needs it, but he hates to contact his financial advisor. He feels like it’s asking permission from Dad even though that’s not the case. The guy is there to serve him, and Dad is no longer with us.

  “Goody, you’re in a great mood today.” He grins, pleased that he’s gotten a reaction out of me.

  “Sterling,” I warn him.

  “Have you thought about getting laid?” His lazy smile matches the tone of his voice. “It might take the edge off.”

  He walks around the office, stops in front of the bookcase grabbing one of the frames. “I heard Abigail is back in town. You should finally tap that.”

  My gut churns, and I swear if we weren’t at the office … I sigh because I wouldn’t hit him even when he makes me want to murder him.

  “Are you just turning in?” I check my watch. It’s eight o’clock in the morning.

  My brother works at night—after partying. He sleeps all morning, sometimes he doesn’t wake up until the sun has set.

  “As a matter of fact, I started early today.” He yawns.

  “Anita,” he calls my assistant. “Would you mind bringing me a latte, please?”

  He turns to me, arching an eyebrow. “Do you want some coffee?”

  I show him my mug. “We don’t have lattes in this office.”

  “You wouldn’t mind running to the coffee shop, would you, beautiful?” He walks toward Anita’s desk, handing her a bill. “Make sure it has three shots of espresso.”

  Anita smiles at my brother as if he were a god and she’s happy to serve him. She promptly leaves her post without a word.

  “She’s my assistant,” I growl, closing my eyes.

  Fuck. I need to shed the frustration before I choke someone. I look at him and smirk, maybe I’ll choke my own brother.

  “Why are you so happy today, Weston?” His sarcastic remark elevates my blood pressure.

  I rise from my seat and walk around the office to settle my temper.

  “What do you want, Sterling?” I stop by the window admiring the mountains and wishing I were in Tahoe, just programming without any distraction—except for Abby.

  “The board requested my presence,” he sighs.

  I turn around and watch him plop down on the leather couch.

  “They want you at the emergency meeting?” I crook an eyebrow at him,
before going back to my desk to reread the memo.

  It clearly states that they’d like to meet with the members of the family. I wonder if Mom received it and if she’s planning on coming too, but that’s impossible, considering they sent it less than an hour ago. They should know that Mom lives in Phoenix and she can’t just fly in whenever they decide to hold a meeting. Dad gave the board members too much power.

  “I don’t plan on attending.” He swings his legs up on the couch and rests his head back on the arm. “You have to explain to these assholes that I don’t work for the company. Actually, I’d be happy to sell you my part of the company if that would get them off my back.”

  When Dad died he left the company to Mom, Sterling and me in equal parts. The board doesn’t own anything—yet. They’re pushing to go public and grab more shares than Dad originally promised. I’m just doing this because it was his last wish. If I did things my way … but I stopped thinking about that long ago. My father left me his legacy, and I must carry it.

  “Good morning, Wes,” I hear Abby’s voice before I see she’s creeping into my office. “You don’t look well.”

  Like you, I didn’t sleep, I don’t say. There were too many reasons why I couldn’t just close my eyes. How could I rest while I knew she was alone and hurting? She’s always let me comfort her. But not last night. Does she hate me now that she’s back —and so are the nightmares? Then, there are the unanswered questions about her past. Thinking about it kept me awake. It wasn’t only her state of mind that had me distracted, but my attraction to her too. Visions of her delicious, naked body under the shower were about the only thing I could concentrate on. The woman has me tied into knots.

  This morning isn’t any different.

  She’s wearing a black dress that accentuates her figure and shows off her long, tanned legs. Her brown hair is pulled back into a side twist.

  She’s breathtakingly beautiful.

  “Abby,” I ask quietly. “How was your night?”

  “You know, the usual,” she shrugs her shoulders and turns to address my brother.

  “You look very professional, Sterling Ahern.” She smirks at him.

  “Well, well, well…” My brother perks up and pushes himself off the couch. “If it isn’t little Abby Lyons.”

  He takes her hands, extending her arms and looking at her from head to toe. “It’s been so long. I remember the last time I saw you, you wore a pair of sweats and your glasses.”

  Abby glowers at him not amused. “Give me a break, I was studying for my finals.”

  “I owe you a graduation present,” he says, twirling her around.

  “You’re a vision, little Abby.” He whistles. “I’d love to sculpt you—paint you. Pose for me.”

  “Ha,” she huffs, moving away from his grasp. “As if that line would ever work on me. I can’t believe so many women fall for your charm.”

  Sterling grins. “You can try to pretend that you’re immune to the Aherns.” He looks at me. “But you’re not. You dig us.”

  “You’re a conceited jerk.” She scrunches her nose.

  His jaw drops. “If my mother were here, she’d be disappointed with your language, young lady.”

  “Whatever.” She waves her hand. “The receptionist told me to come to see you right away.”

  Abby narrows her gaze, walks around the desk and squeezes my hand. “What’s going on, Wes?”

  She’s beautiful, smart, and a great listener, but what I love the most about her is that she knows my moods. I don’t have to say much for her to understand that I need her to comfort me.

  “What did you do to him, Slugger?” She crosses her arms narrowing her gaze.

  “Dudette, it’s not my fault that he needs anger management.” He pretends to wash his hand. “I’m an innocent bystander.”

  “The board called an emergency meeting,” I say resting my head against the back of the chair and closing my eyes.

  “We should just dismiss them all and then sell this joint,” Sterling suggests. “It’s not like you love working for this company.”

  “That’s not how it works.” I rub both hands down my face.

  It’s not that simple. They represent the future shareholders of the company. That’s what Dad was working on, making the company public, and as his successor, I’m continuing his work.

  Sterling looks at Abby and says, “Tell him, Abbs. You and I both know that this isn’t what he wanted to do. He listens to you.”

  “You’re exaggerating, Slugger. But what’s your idea?

  “We sell this shithole and he can start his own company.”

  “Oh my God, I should document this day,” Abby takes a pen and scribbles on her hand. “Sterling used his brain for something other than throwing out a pickup line.”

  “I haven’t had my caffeine, Abigail, but wait until I do. You’ll be crying uncle.”

  “Whatever,” she says rolling her eyes. “What happened to the software you were developing?” she asks me.

  I stopped working on it and all the other projects. As much as I love developing apps and games and creating new software, I don’t have time to dabble in that while I’m trying to keep up with my father’s company. My goal is to keep my father’s legacy alive for Mom.

  “I don’t have any free time.”

  “You could, if you delegated,” Sterling says challenging me with his gaze.

  “Where’s the Wes Ahern who makes things happen?” Abby asks, drinking some of my coffee.

  “She’s right, Weston.”

  These two are friendly, but when it comes to teaming up against me, they are one in the same.

  My phone buzzes; I glance at it and see that it’s my mother.

  Mom: Wes, I woke up to a message from the board. What happened?

  Wes: I’m wondering the same thing, Mom. I’ll take care of it.

  Mom: Good, because I’m busy this week. We decided to cancel the trip to Italy and head to Alaska instead. It’s lovely during the summer. Take care of yourself. Call me on Sunday.

  Sterling and Mom insist that I should sell the company if it doesn’t make me happy. We have enough assets to buy out the board before we sell it. If it were mine, maybe I wouldn’t mind opening a software subdivision. The current organization of the company doesn’t allow for much free time, or give me room to delegate like my father used to do. If the board feels like I’m not doing enough, they’ll try to kick me out as the CEO.

  “Hey, I’m here,” Abby says reassuringly. “We’ll figure it all out.”

  I believe her. We always solve our problems and work through any complications that arise—together.

  13

  Abby

  So much for respecting my wishes. I asked him not to give me any special treatment, and what does he do? He gives me his old office. It’s a beautiful space, with a solid cherry desk, matching bookshelves, and leather chairs that go with the loveseat, all framed by a spectacular view of the mountains.

  “Everyone is going to hate me.”

  “Why would they?”

  “The accounting department downstairs isn’t quite the executive offices,” I state the obvious, walking around the freshly painted space and kneeling to feel the fluffy carpet.

  “You’re not just any accountant.”

  I laugh at his ridiculous remark. “So what kind of accountant am I?”

  “You handle my mother’s affairs, Sterling’s business, and the charity fund.”

  “So, this is like a personal favor?”

  “I’m giving you exactly what Dad was already planning. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  I study his eyes, then his posture. He’s distraught about the board, and I’m not making it any easier for him. How can I get him to understand that I don’t want any of the staff to think I’m only here because of nepotism?

  He hired me to be Sterling’s accountant and manage his portfolio because he hates to charge for is art. His mother is an independent woman. I just don’t thin
k they need me.

  “Sir, sorry to interrupt you,” a man enters the office without waiting for us to acknowledge him.

  My stomach gets queasy as I detect a citrusy, fresh male scent. It’s not strong but it hits my memory bank hard. I close my eyes briefly reminding myself that I’m with Wes, at work.

  “Good morning, Lucian,” Wes answers. “Let me introduce you to Abigail Lyons.”

  “I didn’t know we were hiring new personnel.” His gaze narrows as he looks at me from top to bottom.

  “Your face looks familiar. Abigail, you said?” The way he enunciates my name sends a shiver racing across my skin.

  He doesn’t know me. I swallow through a suddenly tight throat, fighting the fear. Air. I need air. I fight off a rush of emotions, but I’m losing the battle. My sight becomes distorted when the man walks toward me with his hand extended; his grin increases. The way he stares at me makes me tremble. He’s a predator about to catch his meal. My breath quickens and my heart beats wildly. I can’t breathe. It’s him.

  Think, Abby, think.

  It’s the muddy green eyes with brown flecks—the crooked nose—the same scar on his chin.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He extends his hand. “I—”

  Suddenly, it’s not Lucian’s voice that I hear. It’s him. Corbin. I’m gasping for air, fighting the anxiety, but keeping my eyes open to make sure that he won’t do anything. This time I won’t let him. I can scream, run … he won’t catch me this time.

  “You look hungry, Abigail. Ava didn’t work for her meal. How about you?”

  “Breathe for me,” Wes says slowly. His voice pulls me away from the old house. I’m no longer in the dark room, but back in the comfort of the office with him. “You’re safe with me.”

  I’ll never be safe from my past. God only knows if I’m safe from Corbin.

  The fear crashes into me unexpectedly. Why did Lucian trigger the memories? I was dragged all the way back into his world. I could feel his breath, feel his voice vibrating throughout the dark room.