Dark Secret

by Summer Cooper

  Trent wouldn’t understand that, and he wouldn’t understand what it was like to be a blip on the family’s radar. None of my brothers would, I guessed. They were all big, bad, Alpha males and always had been. They’d been trained by our parents to expect me to take care of them. I always had, until I’d had enough.

  I didn’t think it was too selfish to want something for myself, some happiness, but apparently it was. My brother had taken a dislike to Dylan, for some idiotic reason, and that had destroyed any chance we’d had for reconciling after I walked away. I’d wanted to give them time to understand that I meant something more to them than a secretary or nanny would. Then Trent had seen me with Dylan, and he’d made assumptions.

  I guess he’d told Dad those assumptions, because even he’d turned his back on me. My father, always so practical, would have taken the advice of his firstborn, even though it was me who always went along with his schemes. Even though it was me who took care of him when he needed me.

  I closed the video screen and stared at nothing. I had to get past this all, somehow. My family had abandoned me. It was a tough pill to swallow, but I’d have to. I’d been ordered not to contact any of them. I wasn’t sure what Trent would do if I did, but I knew his temper. It wouldn’t be pretty.

  I’d leave them alone, even if I did want to call Ember and congratulate her. Even if I did want to call Jess and check on the children. I would leave them all alone. So what if it made me sob when I thought about the fact that the children would forget about me? So what if they might one day ask who that lady is in the pictures with them, and they’d be told she was who, nobody?

  I swiped at my tears and decided then and there that I’d sign Dylan’s contract. It wasn’t just because I’d be alone otherwise; it was because he had shown me love, even if he didn’t want to call it that. He offered me far more than they ever had. He offered me a life to live, where they offered me mediocrity and spinsterhood.

  I wiped my face dry and went into the bathroom to clean myself up. I’d had a good cry, but, honestly? I felt better for it.

  Dylan had tried so hard to be what I needed last night. He’d distracted me when I was on the verge of breaking into tears, and he held me when that overwhelming grief came back. Because it was grief, this pain. They weren’t dead, but they might as well have been, if Trent had his way. They’d cut off contact and ordered me to back off.

  I was grieving and probably would for a while. The good news was, I thought as I reapplied mascara, I had a new life just waiting on me to have the guts to take it. I stepped back when I was done, saw that my eyes were still a bit red, but I didn’t look so deathly now. Yep, it was time to greet this new life with both hands at the ready.

  Dylan had already said we were going out that night, but he hadn’t said to where. I went through my closet, found a long sleeved dress of brown knit cashmere, and put it in a bag to carry back to Dylan’s. The dress looked like a really long sweater, it came down to my calves, but it was form fitting and had a deep, plunging neckline. Sexiness wrapped in innocent cashmere, he’d love it. I hadn’t worn it out yet, but I knew it would turn heads.

  I picked out a pair of brown suede leather ankle boots with spike heels and added some jewelry to a smaller bag I’d put in my purse. If it wasn’t the right dress to wear, I’d pick out something I had at his place. I found my black leather jacket, perfect for the cool nights at the beach, a brown and white wraparound scarf, and gathered up everything.

  For a moment, as I stood in the doorway, I wondered why we didn’t come back here more often. Dylan was comfortable at his place, and this place was so new to me it didn’t quite feel like home. I wondered if it ever would, and I kind of hoped it wouldn’t. It would mean I’d found a home with Dylan if I wasn’t here.

  I closed the door, made sure it was locked, and walked away from the house with a smile on my face. An hour ago I’d been on my couch, crying my eyes out, but now, I was headed for a new life. I hoped.

  I got back to his place after a meeting for the charity group, where I saw Roxie, and I put my bags down. Yes, this place felt more like home than my own home did. I kicked off my shoes, picked them up to put them in the closet space he’d set aside for me, and hung up my dress. It wouldn’t wrinkle, but I wanted it up anyway.

  I went into the kitchen, made myself some lunch, and then relaxed on the couch for a bit. I was feeling a little tired after all of this crying and emotional upheaval. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but realized I had when Dylan came in.

  “Hello, sleeping beauty. Do you want to wake up, or shall I cancel our plans for the night?” he asked, concern written all over his face.

  “Oh no, don’t cancel! I was just a little tired, that’s all. Let me get up and get dressed.” I smiled and kissed him quickly before I got up to run to the bathroom. “How long do we have before we have to be there?”

  “A couple of hours, babe. Don’t rush. Come here.” He pulled me down to him, and we fell together on the couch, laughing.

  This is what I’d gained for my troubles. A man tickling me into laughter, until I protested that I’d pee all over us both if he kept it up. A man who adored me, from what I could tell. “Stop, Dylan, or we’ll end up in bed and forget these plans of yours.”

  “No! Get off me, woman! Shoo!” He pushed at me playfully until I moved away and sat up, completely prim and proper now. “My plans must not be foiled. Go, clean yourself and make yourself worthy.”

  He’d put on a very bad English accent and some very hoity-toity airs, which he finished off with an imperial wave of his hand. Oh indeed. Playful, was he?

  I could swear he even patted at his hair a bit as I walked away.

  An hour later, I emerged from the bathroom, my hair clean and curled in soft waves around my shoulders and down my back, makeup perfectly in place, and my own special scent, a French perfume that had been designed for only me in Paris at a very exclusive boutique, to finish off the picture I’d created. Soft innocence, but an underlying note of alluring seduction. Dylan would love it.

  “Perfect,” he breathed as he inhaled my perfume. “God, I do love that scent, what is it?”

  “Just something my mother found for me when I was a teenager. Are you ready to go?” I looked at him. He was in a fresh suit, charcoal gray with very faint black pinstripes. Beneath it he wore a black silk shirt and a tie that matched his suit. “You look very nice.”

  “So do you, babe. I’m ready if you are.” He took me hand, kissed my knuckles softly, and led me from the apartment.

  He drove us out of North Myrtle Beach and into Myrtle Beach, the commercialized side of the Grand Strand, where the boardwalk stretched along the beach for miles, ice cream parlors and novelty shops lined the streets on both sides, and families crowded the streets as they rushed from one attraction to the next, enjoying their vacation. Before long he pulled into a very nice looking restaurant and took me inside. The place was elegant with a lot of black and white, the main colors for the décor. It wasn’t too busy, but each table was arranged to give some privacy to the clients. We were in a corner that was very private, and a candle lit the area around our table.

  “Oh, this looks nice.” I sat and took the menu the waiter gave me.

  “I hope so. It comes highly recommended.” Dylan looked off to the left where the glass panes looked out on a very high resort and smiled. There was something secretly pleased about that smile, and it made me wonder. He didn’t say anything, so I let it go.

  The waiter soon took our orders and brought us both a glass of white wine. We’d finished the meal before I knew it, and Dylan asked if I wanted dessert, or if I wanted the rest of our night to continue.

  “This wasn’t it?” I asked, surprised.

  “No, not at all.” He gave me a conspiratorial wink that was just a bit cheeky, and I couldn’t help but smile with him.

  “Go on then, tell me. What’s the rest?”

  “You’ll have to wait and see.” Another wink, and we we
re soon out of the restaurant and on our way somewhere else.

  The next stop was a rather upmarket club. Only this one served cocktails that cost more than some people earned from their weekly paycheck, and the dancing was formal, ballroom style. Not the pounding, grinding music and dance of the place we’d met then. I smiled, excited at what he’d sprung on me.

  I’d done ballroom dancing, I’d had it drilled into my brain, but it was usually reserved for charity balls and fundraisers at my father’s golf club. This was new.

  We had a drink, and talked about our day before we headed out to the dance floor. Dylan, yet again, impressed me with his dance skills. He led me through the moves expertly, and it was a night that would imprint itself on my brain forever.

  Not even the fact that we got a flat tire on the way home could dim my happiness that night. I’d expected he’d call someone to come and help us, but he pulled off the side of the road, got out, and started pulling things out of the trunk like he knew what he was doing. We laughed together on the interstate as he showed me how to change a tire, then we got back on the road. It was cold, and I could have stayed in the car, but I didn’t want him on the side of that road without me keeping an eye out for him.

  It was late when we got home, and we laughed as we got into bed together. We were still laughing as he began to make love to me, and I couldn’t have asked for a better day than we had. It was our last under our agreement, and I could only hope this was a sign of things to come. If he gave me such a perfect last day together, that could only mean even better things were on the horizon. Right?

  Dylan

  I woke up the next morning and started the coffee and put some Danishes in the oven to heat up for breakfast. It wasn’t the healthiest breakfast, but I needed to get out early this morning. I’d worn my little princess out the night before, so I went in to wake her up once everything was finished.

  I’d have left her to sleep, but this was a special day. The day when we started something new. She woke up slowly and wrapped her arms around my neck once she realized I hovered over her. She clung to me tightly, and I knew she was perfectly aware of what today was. I ran my hands down her back and pulled her tightly to my chest.

  “It’s alright, Stephanie. It will all be over soon. Come with me. Let’s have breakfast, and then I have to get to work.” I kissed the side of her head and got up. I couldn’t help the smile that spread over my face when I looked down at her.

  She was still naked, and her body was ready for me, it always was. Not this morning, though. I had things to do, preparations to make. I’d finally got around that bastard Trent Thompson and ownership of one very beautiful resort was within my grasp. If I could get Stephanie to sign the contract today, life would be perfect.

  She slid on a pink fleece robe and followed along behind me. Her hair was all over the place, and she had no makeup on, but I thought that might be one of the reasons I found her so incredibly sexy in the mornings. She was unguarded, and there was no protective layer. It was just her and nothing else.

  I put the plate of sweet treats on the table and filled her coffee cup, added a little bit of cream, and set it in front of her. I walked around and ate my own as I got ready to leave for the day. Once I finished, I washed my hands, dried them, and went to the other counter, where I’d left the contract.

  “I have to go, but I want you to have a look at this.” She looked up at me with stricken eyes, eyes that didn’t want to face this so early in the morning. “It’s not as bad as you think. I want you to read it carefully, sign it, and bring it back to me tonight, okay?”

  She just continued to stare at me, and I felt a little niggle of worry. “If you don’t come back, I’ll know you didn’t want to sign the contract, and that we’re done. I don’t want that, but if you can’t face what I put in there, then… well, it’s better if we end it now, before either one of us gets too hurt.”

  “Dylan…,” she started, but I held a hand up to stop her.

  “No. Just …, just read it, babe. I’ll be back this evening, and if you’re here, then we can talk, alright?” I leaned down, kissed her now sweet lips, and left her there.

  I thought she’d sign it, if she bothered to actually read it. It was a masterpiece, in my mind. All she had to do was give it a chance and read it.

  I went through the rest of my day without any major problems coming up. All I could think about was going home to Stephanie, however. Even when I took one final step to making my dreams of owning a resort on this coast, I couldn’t stop thinking of her. She was always on my mind, though, and when I saw a jewelry store as I passed my lawyer’s office, I stopped in.

  “Can I help you, sir?” A small, punctilious looking man came from behind a closed door. The smell of microwaved spaghetti sauce told me I’d interrupted the man’s lunch. I’d best make it worth his while then.

  “I’d like a necklace please.” I told him as I came up to shake his hand. “Something in platinum, if you have it.”

  “Of course, sir, this way please.” He showed me to a well-lit case, full of beaming metal and sparkling gems. “What is that dark stone, there in the heart-shaped pendant?”

  “Ah, that is alexandrite, sir. A very good choice as it’s very popular with the ladies now.” He took the necklace out to show me how it changed color from red to green, and I had him set that one to one side. With the diamonds around the outer heart later, it was a bit showy.

  Stephanie had started to wear brighter colors, and she had come out of her shell a bit since I’d first met her. She didn’t wear flashy jewelry, but what she wore was always expensive and tasteful. The alexandrite would be for those days when she felt like showing off.

  A few minutes later he pulled out a double heart necklace, formed from one piece of metal that intertwined around itself to form the two hearts and a lover’s knot, as he called it. Just a piece of metal twisted into an intricate knot pattern, but still they both caught my eye. “I’ll take both”

  “Certainly, sir. All very good choices, anything else?” The man was on a roll, but I was finished with looking at jewelry. I wanted to get home and get the place ready for her. It wasn’t Valentine’s or an anniversary, but I did want the place to be romantic when she got there.

  I stopped at a florist, picked up a variety of pink, white, and red roses, bought some candles that they hand handy, and went home. The cleaner had been in, although there was very little for her to do except dust and wipe down the surfaces. I didn’t know what time Stephanie planned to be back, so I went to work right away.

  I placed the candles throughout the house and decided I’d light them around five. She knew I was usually finished for the day around that time, so I figured she’d come back around then. The rose petals I sprinkled throughout the apartment and on the bed. A little cliché, perhaps, but I thought it was a nice touch.

  After I finished that, I went into the kitchen and started to prepare some dinner. She liked paella, so I started to prepare the ingredients for the traditional Spanish paella that she liked the most. She wasn’t always a fan of seafood, so I changed the recipe I’d learned and left those out.

  It would take around an hour to prepare it all properly, so I turned the small television on in the kitchen to a music channel that actually played music, and started. I chopped up all the vegetables and the sausage, as well as some prosciutto, by the time a news report came on. I wasn’t really paying attention to it, it was just news about the music industry, and I was more concerned about which step of the preparation I was on than who’d put out a new album.

  I turned to the island just behind the gas stove to pick up the tomatoes and glanced at the television. The woman on the screen was reporting about a new album from one of Stephanie’s favorite singers, a woman who called herself Ember. The reporter went on to talk about how Ember was married to the hotel tycoon, Kevin Thompson, Trent Thompson’s brother, and my blood went cold. That bastard again. I was about to turn away, but the pictures changed, a
nd I stopped dead in my tracks. It couldn’t be?

  A picture had flashed on the screen, and I’d stepped closer, but the screen was too small. I went into the living room, the paella forgotten.

  I turned on the television, punched in the number of the channel, and then backed up the program with the remote. I paused it when I saw the picture on the screen all over again. It was Stephanie. A slightly younger version of Stephanie, but there she was, holding a baby while Kevin and Ember embraced for the camera.

  She stood just behind the couple, Stephanie’s face beamed as happily as the other two and I just … I just couldn’t believe it. She knew Trent Thompson? How? My stomach was tight, and I felt slightly sick. The smell of the food didn’t help, so I went into the kitchen and turned the stove off before I went to grab my laptop from the office.

  When I sat on the couch in the living room, my eyes automatically went to the picture still paused on the screen. Now that I was looking, I could see a resemblance between Trent and Stephanie, and that made the muscles around my heart contract, until I let a very real pain in my chest. Surely it couldn’t be?

  A woman from a family like that had shown up at a strip club, looking for a dom? I thought about the observations I’d made in the past few weeks. How I’d thought that Stephanie was from a wealthy family, that she was obviously from a different class than most of the women who showed up at Elmo’s, the club where we’d met. She’d always been so regal, I supposed was the right word. An air that one usually only gained when you came from money and had spent some time at a private school, or even boarding school.

  My mind just couldn’t process it all, and I looked down at my laptop. The thought struck that I could find out quite easily if Trent Thompson had a sister or not. His sister-in-law’s hard-luck story told me that Stephanie wasn’t her sister, but, maybe...

  There was one way to find out.

  I opened the laptop and clicked on the browser. I typed in Trent’s name, the word family, and found a Wikipedia page, along with a slew of news reports and magazine articles about the man. It would seem women across the globe found the man irresistible, but that wasn’t what I was looking for. I clicked the Wikipedia link. No, Wikipedia wasn’t exactly the height of academic accuracy, but it was a place to start.