by Mia Carson
Don’t be an idiot. You know he loves you, she thought, but still, the doubts remained and grew until they were all that filled her mind when she picked up Carrie from campus.
“You look pissed,” Carrie commented as she slid into the Mustang.
“Long story, need wine,” Belle replied sharply and floored it out of the parking lot, headed for Greyson’s ranch. “I hope you’re ready for some ranting because counting to ten just isn’t cutting it today.”
Two hours later, Carrie giggled as she opened another bottle of wine and Belle lay on her back on the couch, staring at the wooden ceiling beams, wondering what Greyson was doing.
“You know, if you decide to leave your fortress of solitude, I’m getting an apartment soon,” Carrie said, carrying over the red wine bottle and setting it on the coffee table. “We could live together again, and I promise, this time, if I bring boys around, you won’t walk in on us doing the dirty.”
Belle cringed and threw a pillow at Carrie. It whacked her in the face, and Belle burst out laughing. “You know, I don’t think he’s with someone else, but I don’t know,” she said, her words slurring. “Sometimes, I don’t really know who he is.”
Carrie set her glass down and glanced around. “Uh, Belle, you’re in his house—alone.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So why the hell aren’t you going through his stuff?! Come on, get up,” Carrie yelled, and with her wine glass in hand, tore off down the hall.
Belle grunted as she rolled off the couch, fell to the floor with a giggle, then scrambled up and chased after Carrie. “Wait, what are you doing? Carrie!”
“In here,” she called from Greyson’s bedroom.
“What are you doing?” Belle hissed as if any second Greyson would return home to find them snooping. “Get out of his closet!”
“Fine,” her friend muttered, “nothing in there anyway. Check under the bed. I’ll get the dresser.” She laughed as she hurried to the dresser and pulled open drawer after drawer. For a long second, Belle watched, but curiosity got the better of her and she fell to the floor, peering under the bed. “Anything?” Carrie asked.
“Nothing but dust,” she grumbled and rolled over so she stared up at the ceiling.
“Hmm, maybe he doesn’t have anything—wait a second, what’s this?” Carrie asked excitedly. Belle sat up quickly to see Carrie pulling out a small black photo box from the bottom drawer. “Now this is a must-see.”
“Wait,” Belle said, but too late. Carrie dumped the box out on the bed, and there was nothing to do but look through the pictures. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Belle knew they should stop, but Carrie sifted through the pictures. A smiling couple caught her eye as they stared at whomever took the picture.
Belle reached out slowly and picked up the picture. The woman was beautiful, with blonde hair, bright green eyes, cleavage she could drown in, and a tiny waist. She was tall and lean, and even though it was a picture, Belle sensed the desire in Greyson’s face for the woman in his arm. It had to be his ex, but Belle hadn’t realized how pretty she was, how unimaginably gorgeous, and probably smart, too. She had impeccable taste, judging by the dress and jewelry she wore, and money. Lots of it.
“Who’s that?” Carrie asked, leaning over her shoulder.
“Ex-girlfriend, I think,” Belle mumbled.
“She’s pretty… And you look like you want to kill her. Hand it over before you rip it in half.”
“Why not?” she said, gripping the picture tighter.
“Because that might not be the ex-girlfriend.” Belle looked to where she pointed, and her chest tightened as every limb in her body went rigid. “How many girlfriends did he say he had before you?”
She shook her head. He’d only ever mentioned one. She knew he’d been a playboy back in the day and dated a ton of other women, but she had no idea it was this many or that they were so much prettier than she was. She went through the pictures, each one with Greyson’s smiling face as he kissed a woman, held her ass, as he drew her in close and smiled widely. She found another stack, and the second she flipped over the first one, the rest scattered to the floor. She jumped back, rubbing her hands on her thighs.
Carrie asked her what was wrong until she picked up the pics and her eyes widened. “Well then, that’s uh, wow.”
“Naked pictures,” Belle muttered, trying to get the image out of her mind. “Who the hell keeps naked pictures of their ex-girlfriends?”
“Maybe he forgot about them,” Carrie suggested, flipping through them. “It’s possible. This box was in the bottom drawer, covered in dust. I’m sure that’s it. He’s been so busy keeping up with you.”
“Right, because your first thought when you break up with someone is to keep the naked pictures you took of her,” Belle said as she pointed around the room. “That’s this room, this bedroom. He took those so that has to be the ex-girlfriend.”
“Didn’t his mom tell you she never lived with him?”
Belle frowned. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”
Carrie tossed the pictures down. “It means he wants you to be with him—all the time, not just for sex and naked pictures.”
Knowing it sounded stupid, she couldn’t stop herself from muttering, “He’s never tried to take naked pictures of me.”
Her friend stared at her for a solid minute before she laughed sharply. “You don’t want him to do that.”
“How do you know?” she pouted.
“Because I know you, you idiot. Forget these pics. Let’s order some pizza,” she said, and after they tossed the pics back in the box and tucked it away in the dresser, Carrie led the way back to the living room. She picked up her cell and called the local pizza joint to order their usual.
Belle, meanwhile, paced the living room, trying to forget how perfect that naked woman looked in the four-poster bed—the four-poster bed she’d spent so many nights in, lost in Greyson’s arms, thinking that maybe this would work out in some weird way. That they had a chance despite their stubbornness and raging tempers. She usually wasn’t a jealous person, but knowing Greyson saw all those women naked, had sex with them, maybe even loved a few, tore at her heart, and she wondered if she was going to lose one of the only other people she cared about.
“Right, pizza is ordered and you need more wine,” Carrie announced, ducking into the kitchen.
Belle followed and was about to suggest they try something harder when the home phone rang. “Let the machine get it. If it’s Tim, he’ll call my cell.”
It rang two more times before a loud beep echoed out of the office, but what followed next caused Belle’s blood to boil and she shattered the wine glass in her hand.
“Hey Greyson, it’s Lisa, but you probably knew that from my voice. We’ve missed you, but Aiden just called and said you were back on the market! Hope you’re not spending all your time with her. Call me!”
Belle stared straight ahead, the glass on the floor at her feet as Carrie grabbed a towel and told her not to move until she cleaned it up. “That bastard,” she growled, all idea of controlling her temper gone. “I knew it! I knew it after he lied about that phone call!”
Carrie glanced up at her from the floor and helped her maneuver away from the glass. “Go wash off your hand, carefully, and what phone call?”
“The other week, he got this phone call. He didn’t want me to hear it, and afterwards, he said it was his mom.”
“And that’s a bad thing because?” she asked as she dumped the glass in the trashcan.
Belle stood at the sink, holding her hand under the water, watching it wash over her palm. “I was talking to his mom at the time of the call,” she said quietly. “He lied, right to my face, and now this last-minute trip that Tim’s lying about for him, and the pictures and the call… I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can,” Carrie said. “You just have to do it calmly, do you hear me? Talk to him calmly about all of this. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanati
on for everything.”
The phone rang again, and when the beep went off in the office, another cheery voice came on the machine. Belle yelled as Carrie rushed to close the door, blocking her from yanking the machine and the phone from the wall. It was definitely time for something stronger, and the second Greyson stepped through that door, he better be ready to face a damn hurricane. Belle didn’t let herself open up to anyone, ever, and now, she realized she might’ve just handed over her heart to some cheating arrogant bastard.
Chapter 6
Greyson gave the cab driver his address for home and leaned back in the seat, holding his forehead as he glared out the window. All four leads of Aiden’s were dead-ends. They were no closer to finding Belle’s family, and now, he was exhausted, pissed at Aiden and all her flirty antics, and ready to crash in his bed.
The cab pulled up outside his ranch and after he paid, he staggered up the drive. The Mustang was in the driveway, so Belle was home, and though he didn’t have any new answers on the whereabouts of her family, he couldn’t have spent another day without her. He needed to hold her in his arms and kiss her, carry her to his bed, and let her know how much he missed her over the past few days. Every time he woke, he'd had to deal with Aiden’s gaze on his groin and the erection he had from dreams of Belle.
What he didn’t expect to find when he walked in the door was Belle standing at the counter, staring straight ahead, her eyes narrowed and arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her face was pinched and worry filled him. Aiden… she did something, after all. The realization hit him, and he cursed quietly.
“Belle,” he called out, smiling, and approached her, but she immediately held up her hand to stop him. “You aren’t happy I’m home?”
“No, I’m thrilled,” she said stiffly but didn’t let him come any closer.
“You don’t sound like it,” he rumbled. “What happened while I was gone?”
She laughed bitterly and backed even further away. “Where do I start? First, you lie about wherever you were—and for future reference, Tim is a shitty liar so don’t ask him to do it for you again.”
Greyson tugged hard on his beard. “Belle, please—”
“No, don’t please me,” she snapped. “Then, I have to save your company when it all goes to shit and in the process, I miss my mid-term deadline, which means I just flunked one of my classes. That means, while I was busy saving your ass, I was screwing mine over! And then I find those pictures, and the phone calls, and who the hell were you with those four days, huh? Aiden, Lisa—maybe one of the other ones?”
Greyson shook his head, trying to follow and failing. “What pictures? You flunked a class?”
“The naked pictures I found of you and your girlfriends,” she yelled, throwing her hands in the air. When he opened his mouth to argue, she turned on her heel and stormed into his office. He followed, telling her to take a breath so they could figure all of this out, but she reached his desk and hit play on the answering machine.
One voice after another came over the machine, leaving messages saying how much each one missed Greyson and that Aiden told them all he was up for grabs. With each new one, Belle’s body grew more rigid and her eyes flared until he wondered how long it would take before she decked him again, or threw the damn machine at his face. He knew Aiden would try something, but he never thought she’d go this far. When the fifth started to play, he reached over and turned it off.
“I can explain everything,” he assured her calmly. “Why don’t we go sit down?”
“No, I want to know right now why all these women are calling you and who the hell Aiden is. Is she… is she who you were with? Is she the naked woman in the pictures?”
Greyson struggled to hold onto his control as he asked through his teeth, “What naked pictures are you talking about? I don’t have any naked pictures of anyone.”
Her eyes narrowed even more. “Right, then whose box of photos is in your dresser right now?”
“The dresser?” he repeated and frowned. “You looked through my stuff?” The ring, why couldn’t she have found the damn ring?! The naked pictures… shit, I thought I threw those out. “I forgot I had them, alright? I meant to get rid of them, and they just got shoved aside.”
“No, shoved aside would mean the basement or the attic, but they’re in your dresser!”
“Can you not make a big deal out of this? Jesus, I had a life before you, you know. My life didn’t start when you walked in my office!”
“You’re mad at me?!” she yelled back.
He stood toe to toe with her, matching her furious glare with one of his own. “Yeah, I am. What gave you the right to dig through my stuff! Those pictures are none of your business.”
“Is that right?” she asked, her voice frighteningly calm. “And the women who called you? Are they none of my business either? How many of them are you seeing on the side?” She glowered at him when she said, “How many were you with this weekend while I was fighting for your fucking company!” she roared, poking him in the chest hard with each word.
He caught her hand and held her to him. “None of them, alright?”
“Then where were you? And don’t you dare lie and say the warehouse.”
He sucked in a breath and blew it out, not willing to tell her the whole truth. He couldn’t. She’d hate him more than she did in that moment when she thought he cheated on her. If she knew he was hunting down her family, she’d be furious, and then he might lose her for good.
“I can’t tell you,” he said, and she cursed. “But you just have to trust me. I’m doing something, and soon, I should be able to show you.”
“No, not good enough, not when I have to listen to these harpies calling for you to sleep with them! All weekend… You trusted me to do my job, Greyson. I did it, but you… you lied to my face. That call you said was from your mom the other day? I know it wasn’t,” she said quietly, and his grip on her hand relaxed enough in his shock that she pulled away. “Are you trying to push me away?”
“What? No,” he argued and stepped towards her, but she moved back again. “Belle, wait.”
“No, I trusted you, I opened up to you. I’ve never done that with anyone else, and then you spit in my face,” she muttered, shaking her head. Confusion welled in the icy blue depths of her eyes, and she clutched a hand to her chest. “I know I’m not as pretty as they are, but if you were finished playing around with me, all you had to do was say so.”
She turned her back on him and strode out of his office, so fast he almost couldn’t keep up. When she snatched his keys off the counter and made for the door, he reached out to grab her, pulling her back.
“Wait—you are not going to walk out on me,” he growled.
“Let me go! I’ll get my stuff in the morning,” she snapped, but he wrapped his arms around her too tightly and she was trapped against his chest.
“You’re not going to leave until we talk,” he said.
“We did talk,” she argued, but she shook her head.
“No, you yelled at me. Why can’t you just trust me?”
“It's hard to do that when the lies build up around me all weekend long and I realize I’m about to lose the chance at my degree,” she yelled.
“I’ll call your professor. I’ll explain—”
“You can’t just make everything go away! You’re not God—damn it, Greyson, you have to sometimes just accept what happens! Like I am with you and all those girls!”
“I wasn’t with them. I was searching for your parents!”
Belle’s mouth dropped open, and she stared at him as he let her go gently and stepped away. “You… you were what?” she asked, breathless.
Greyson ran a hand through his hair, the other on his hip as he paced away. “I wanted to find your family, so I’ve been working with someone to track them down. We had some leads, and that’s where I was, flying all over the place looking for your parents, your family.”
For a second, he thought he’d been wr
ong all along and she was going to tell him she wanted to help, but her eyes filled with rage and she backed towards the door.
“I never asked you to do that for me,” she whispered. “I never asked you to get involved in my life!”
“Belle, don’t you dare walk out that door,” he growled, but she opened it and with one final glare, darted out and slammed it shut behind her. Greyson stared after her in disbelief until he heard the Mustang roar to life. “Damn it!”
She had the only keys to the Mustang, and by the time he raced out the door, she was down the driveway and peeling out onto the road. He yanked his cell from his pocket and tried to call her, but she didn’t pick up. After two more tries, he gave up and called a cab. He ran back to the house, locked it, and when the cab reached the curb and asked where to go, only one place came to mind.
The bar where he ran into her the first weekend. He rambled off the address to the cabbie and leaned back, his foot tapping the floorboards anxiously as he prayed that’s where she’d go. He texted Carrie just to be sure she hadn’t gone back to the dorms, but her friend said she hadn’t been by and hadn’t called. If she wasn’t there, he didn’t have any idea where else she would go. He told the cabbie to go faster as politely as possible, and eventually, they pulled alongside the curb. He paid the driver, leapt out of the cab, and glared up and down the sidewalk.
“Thank God,” he muttered when he spotted his Mustang parked farther down.
Belle wasn’t standing in line so he handed over a hundred-dollar bill to the bouncer and pushed his way inside, the music pounding against his eardrums. People shoved in on all sides of him and more than one drunk woman tried to snatch him to the side, but he pulled away from all of them, only having eyes for Belle. Lights flashed, and he reached the dance floor. Still no sign of her. He texted her again, hoping she’d at least let him know if she was actually there or not, but received no response.