"You can process. I know exactly what to do with Jared," he muttered.
"But not tonight." I tugged him to me.
"You think seducing me will stop me from tearing his head off?"
"I'm hoping it will."
He frowned slightly. "I think it might."
He took me in front of the flowers, bent me over the table, spread my sex, holding it open so he could lick and lave my most intimate spots.
I gripped the table as his fingers entered me, along with his tongue.
He was as possessive as I was.
Chapter Fifteen
Lucas seemed to be there to protect me from myself…and the others I didn't yet know about. At first, I'd worried about who was going to protect him from me but now I was more concerned about who would protect me from him.
I actually asked him that. After he bit back laughter, he offered, "I could get you a security team."
"Whatever. You're zero help." Still, between him, Grant and Brayden, I was happier, more balanced and getting more done than I ever had, painting-wise. They must've made a pact to keep as much critical news from me as possible, and although I knew it was out there, being shielded was fine by me.
We made a few appearances, mainly for charity and typically with Brayden and Grant to throw off any questions. It was like going out with my bodyguards, and if I could ignore the angry electricity bouncing between Grant and Brayden, it would've been perfect. Then again, maybe that made it perfect for them.
Lucas was more of a homebody than I was, thanks to our upside-down life, although there were restaurants we could go to at one in the morning that would give us a private dinner.
Beyond that, it was sex and painting and I kept thinking it would end soon, either by him or me. It was both of our MOs to fuck each other and then fuck each other over and yet we weren’t doing that. We were digging each other in deeper. There were times he wouldn't call for a day and I'd find myself calling him, realizing he wanted that. He needed to know I would check on him too.
Like when Brayden and I had found each other, Lucas and I were like another lost boy/girl team. He was my lost boy and somehow, even though I knew he had memories, he was more lost than me.
And a hell of a lot wilder. I told him that too.
"I'm domesticated," he insisted.
"Bullshit. Yes, the lions in the wild seem that way, lying contented in the sun. Until called on to do battle."
"Lionesses are fiercer."
I held up my mug in agreement, then took a sip. "Perfect."
There we were, noon on a Friday. What an odd, beautiful life I had.
"Why's that?"
"I get to sleep in. Drink coffee in sweatpants at noon. Stay up all night and get paid to do something I love."
"Everyone should be so lucky."
"Are you?"
"I do what I like."
"And that's what, exactly?"
He gave me a half grin before drinking half his coffee. "You can ask what you want, Ryn."
"Are you broken, Lucas Caine?"
"Sometimes."
"Me too." I stroked his hair. "Maybe all our pieces can fit together. Maybe we were just missing pieces to our puzzle."
"And you said you weren't romantic," he teased.
"I'm not."
Whatever his job, it allowed him to deal with my upside-down days and nights. We'd both work at night and sleep and fuck and eat during the day…and weeks flew by in that manner, some of the easiest times I'd ever had.
He didn't make me feel like I was missing anything. He filled up the spaces inside of me, or maybe he filled them in so I didn't think about what was missing from my life. It was a similar feeling to what I had with Brayden. I was satisfyingly complete because Lucas made me feel like I was enough, and not just because he didn't question my past. I was secure. Even if I never remembered anything before the age of seventeen, I'd be all right.
Maybe I'd been waiting my whole life for a love like this, not my past memories. Maybe I'd always been complete and I'd just needed someone to share my life with.
"I'm supposed to see Gabrielle tonight," I told him now. She and I had been keeping in touch by text mainly, because she'd been busy with rehearsals followed closely by filming and such.
Now, Lucas looked grim at the mention. "I looked into what Gabrielle's trying to hide," he said finally.
"And it's not good," I finished.
"Definitely not." He shrugged his jacket off and leaned on my kitchen counter. "She's right to be worried."
"Do I have to worry?"
"I know you don't want me to tell you, but…"
I held a hand up. "Don't."
He stared up at the ceiling like he was looking for patience. He must've found some because he lowered his gaze back to me and said, "Fine. I'll give her some time to come clean with you. Otherwise…"
I re-raised my hand.
"Next time, we're doing this at my place," Gabrielle promised. "I had to run in through the kitchen. It's getting ridiculous."
Jared's book had continued to place number one on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists weeks after its release and news of that and the impending movie were everywhere. I gave up trying not to see it, because no matter how hard Brayden and Lucas tried, it was impossible. "It's just going to get worse," I told her, realizing I was saying it to both of us. When Gabrielle furrowed her brows a little, I admitted, "Jared called. He wants to use my paintings in one of the movie's scenes."
"That's cool…isn't it?" she asked carefully, because my voice had been flat when I delivered the news.
She knew—about me, about the book being about me. I wasn't sure how, but I needed to tell her more than I'd needed to tell anyone. "Jared's book is about me."
She looked around, but we were in a private room and none of the waiters were in here at the moment. "Ryn, don't ever tell anyone that again. Please."
"You don't seem surprised."
She paused, then reached out to touch my arm. "I'm not."
"Jared told you."
"No. You did, but not with words." She sat back. "The other day, I told you I was worried about my past getting out? It's my past that makes me able to read people well. It’s a talent I can’t seem to break."
"So you’re not psychic, then?"
She gave a wry smile. "I've pretended to be, but no.” It was my turn to frown, and finally she managed, "My family…they were—are—grifters."
"Thieves?"
"A different kind of thief. They're not hitting banks, but they're playing people who have cash and jewelry. Or anything. They can manipulate people into doing anything, and I grew up watching it. I was born into it, they used to tell me. And I hated every second of it."
She wiped away the trace of a tear angrily, then took a big sip of her wine.
"Gabrielle, you don't have to—"
"Of course I do. It's been so long since I've met someone real…someone I've connected with. I'm not letting my past get in the way of that. Like I told you the other day, it's going to come out. But if it did before I told you, then you'd never believe in me."
That was probably true. "I guess we're both good secret-keepers."
That earned me a tentative smile. "Early on, I learned how to read people, how to use their own body language against them. I was more in tune with that than anyone else, and I was drawn to you, and to the way you were holding yourself when Jared began his speech. It made me feel like I wanted to save you from whatever it was, or maybe from yourself." She paused. "I'd rather you tell me than share it with the wrong person. And with my past…well, I can see how you might not believe I've got your best interests at heart but—"
I stopped her, putting a hand on her arm. "But you do."
"Yes." She seemed relieved that I believed her. "I'll quit the movie. Really."
"Oh no—you're not going to use me to get out of this part."
She snorted a laugh. "Sure, make my altruistic act seem selfish."
> We stared at each other across the table. Both of our demons would come out during the making of this movie. I was becoming more resolved to it by the second, and I think Gabrielle was too.
"Did Jared say he was planning on keeping your secret?" she asked finally.
"He says he won't reveal me, but his timing, just around the time of my show…"
"He planned it, Ryn. They all do. The whole business is calculating."
"We didn't have a D/s thing either," I said. "That's all his imagination. My past is his imagination too."
"Well, at least he kept that to himself."
"He couldn't not," I muttered.
"What do you mean?"
"He made up everything about my past because I can't remember it."
"But in the book… What a complete control freak. He played God with you and your past." She shook her head, looking angry. "I don't know if I can work for him. I mean, no one’s happy about it—Jared’s pedigree is definitely the only thing keeping the director from strangling him, and we’re all hoping he doesn’t sink the movie completely. But especially now, knowing what I know, I’m not sure…"
"I didn't tell you this to ruin your opportunity. You need to take this and run with it. Please."
"And what about you?"
"I'm trying to remember. I think someone's trying to help me."
"Is that a good thing?"
"I don't think so. That's why I wanted to tell you. Lucas will probably kill me, but I won't have you in possible danger without your knowledge."
She looked grim. "God, we're a pair, aren't we?"
"I'm just grateful to have people in my life who finally know all about my past," I admitted. "It's nice not having to hide it anymore. That's why I came to New York in the first place. I knew it might draw all of this out. That's why Jared's book doesn't matter to me. He can't hold over me what I'm ready to reveal."
"Do you think Jared might be in danger too?" she asked.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "I don't really care, either."
She smiled. "I'm going to give an interview about my past. An exclusive. Like you said, my manager thought it could only help me. Plus, I'm from a family of grifters, but I'm not one myself. Not since I was much younger."
"When are you doing the interview?"
"Next week. But it won't air immediately. They'll do lots of teasers for it for the next month as filming progresses. It'll be part of the buzz." She used air quotes around the word buzz and rolled her eyes as she did so. "It's show business." She managed a smile, but there was worry behind her eyes. "My manager said I'm going to blow up."
We both knew her life was going to change one thousand percent, first when it was announced and then when the movie came out—her entire existence would be under a microscope.
"Are you ready for all that?" I asked.
"I'll never be." Gabrielle shrugged. "But I want fame and fortune. In return, to have all the doors open for me or give up everything, my dream. There's middle ground for sure, but I'm too competitive for it." Then she paused, and her tone turned heavy. "If I'm under scrutiny, Ryn, and we're friends…"
"Don't."
"I have to. I'll back away from you. Won't mention you at all. Your secret is safe with me. Maybe it's better if we don't—"
"What? If you let me hide again? First of all, Jared won't. And I don't want to. I wouldn't have come to New York and made a spectacle of myself if I'd wanted to hide."
"You definitely did do that," she said gently. "You're probably the first real person I've met in forever. I'm not just letting that go."
"Me neither," I said honestly.
We sat there tonight, two women whose lives were just about to change and probably by the time we saw each other again. But for those hours, we were two girls from small towns, enjoying the food and warmth we were showered with. We weren't jaded enough not to enjoy it.
We clinked glasses.
"To being on the verge," she said. "And having someone watching your back so you don't get pushed."
"I'll definitely drink to that."
She glanced to the side. "Your bodyguards are here." I looked up to see Grant and Brayden. I sighed, but she waved them in. "We've got a lot of dessert."
Brayden wasted no time in coming in. Grant rolled his eyes but let himself be coaxed.
I noticed the fresh hickey on Grant's neck. Gabrielle noticed too, and made a 'we so need to discuss this later' face, the same one I made to Brayden.
Chapter Sixteen
After dinner, Grant brought me back to my apartment as Brayden went to his apartment to grab his things. I knew Lucas and Grant both had to work tonight and they'd obviously talked to Brayden ahead of time about staying with me that evening.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Lucas asked.
"I'm not going to let you miss work to watch me paint," I told him.
"That's not a hardship." He leaned down and kissed me, his tongue stroking the roof of my mouth, taking his time…and it took everything I had not to beg him to stay.
And he knew it, too. "Prowly and cocky," I informed him.
"I can't complain about either title," he said as Grant half-dragged him out, muttering something about not being able to fit his ego through the door.
I closed and alarmed the apartment, with Brayden looking over my shoulder, of course. "I've got this."
"Just checking," he said innocently. "Why don't you go do your work?"
"Trying to get rid of me?"
"Never, babe."
In truth, he knew I was itching to paint. I saw him move toward the couch and told him, "Take the bed," but he shook his head, and I realized he wanted to be close to the door. It was, logically, the only way anyone could be entering to move the paintings around, but it seemed like a long shot.
Still, he set up on the couch, the TV on low, and shooed me into my studio.
I went gladly. I had my sketch of Lucas on the couch from last night but I didn't refer to it as I painted on the large canvas. The image of him, protective and prowly, was burned into my brain, down to his feet.
I was smiling as I painted. And when I finally dragged myself to the comfy overstuffed chair in the studio to sketch more, I was exhausted. I fell asleep for maybe twenty minutes. I woke with such a start that I found myself standing straight up like a soldier. I blinked a few times, reached back to steady myself with a hand on the high arm of the chair behind me. It took several minutes for me to realize what I was focusing on—the paintings, of course, but slowly I took them in, left to right. Over and over, I scanned them.
And then I screamed.
Brayden burst inside the room, immediately put his arms around me. I was shaking, but all I had to do was point and he knew.
"Shit." He paled as he stared. "Ryn, I was awake. What the hell?"
"The window," was all I could manage, but he was calling Lucas or Grant or both.
When he hung up, he said, "They said they'll bring the video footage here and we can look at it together."
"I don't know if I want to."
"Then they'll look at it. They don't want to invade your privacy, but checking the footage of your studio is the only way to see who came in," he said quietly.
But when he went to lead me out of the room, I stopped him. "Take pictures of this order. It's different."
He didn't argue, snapped iPhone pictures quickly as I tried to take note of exactly what had changed.
"The Man In Trees pictures are involved this time," he said quietly. And they were, spaced in between the commissioned paintings.
I let Brayden lead me out of the studio and into the living room. With a glass of whiskey and a blanket, I curled on the couch with him and waited for Lucas.
Ten minutes later, he and Grant were there. Grant went to talk with Brayden while Lucas came right to me.
"I knew I should've stayed," he told me.
"Brayden was right here, on the couch. He was awake. I was working. Then I fell asleep—not for l
ong and I don't know how it could've happened. He didn't fall asleep. Unless someone came in the window…"
"You know what floor we're on?" Brayden asked from behind us.
Lucas glanced up at him and back at me. "Someone could've worked quietly. If their intent is to freak you out, it worked."
I rubbed my arms. "Definitely."
"The window's wired," Grant said. "No one got into this place without the key and the code."
"Not even you?" Brayden asked.
Grant's eyes narrowed. "Point taken. But we have footage."
"Let's play it," Brayden said.
"Ryn?" Lucas asked.
"I don't want to see it. You guys watch it. Please—I have to know but I don't need to see it."
Lucas nodded. He got up to move near Grant, and Brayden moved to me. "I'll wait with you."
"Thanks, Bray." I grabbed his hand and forced myself not to look over to where the laptop was.
"We can end this once we know," Brayden was saying, but I barely heard it over the noise in my own mind.
And then everything was quiet. Too quiet. I forced myself to look up when Lucas said my name, and he and Grant both looked uneasy.
"What's wrong? Who do you see?" I asked, although my voice sounded far away, even to my own ears.
"We watched it on fast forward so we could look for intruders without invading much of your privacy," Grant told me. "I want to show you what we found."
"Come on, Ryn," Lucas said, and Brayden and I went toward the laptop together.
Hesitantly, I focused on the screen. There was my apartment door, the living room, my bedroom and my art studio all showing at once. There was nothing and then…me, coming into the art studio. Grant pressed fast forward and I saw myself painting Lucas, then moving to the chair. I watched myself fall asleep and then pop up, just the way I'd woken up.
No surprises but… "What am I doing?" I asked out loud, stared closer at the screen. Because I wasn't standing there waking up. I was moving, toward the paintings. Picking up the paintbrush, then putting it down, and I hadn't done that when I'd woken up.
I was standing in front of the paintings then, and they were in the order I'd remembered leaving them in.
Shelter Me: A Shelter Novel Page 14