Mina’s room is decorated like any other young woman’s living space, with bright pillows on her bed and matching curtains. Posters line her walls and trophies and dance pictures litter her desk. A lifetime of memories. It looks lived in. In contrast, his room resembles a hotel with its bare walls and only a watch, a phone, and a few toiletries on the nightstand.
“But you’ve never lived here.” It isn’t a question.
His fingers stop moving, resting in place. “I only come to visit when Isabel’s not here. She and my father are away for the weekend, hence the party to entice Mina to reengage with the real world and the masks to make it easier.”
“If you didn’t live here, where did you live growing up?” I ask before thinking better of it.
He tenses behind me, then slides his arm under my breasts, pressing a tender kiss to my shoulder. “Unless you plan on answering my question, I’m done sharing.”
I close my eyes, wanting to tell him my real name—God, I’d give anything to hear him say it while we’re in the throes of passion, but what good would it do? It’s not like I’ll see him again. How unfair is it that the one thing that links us together is the one night I can never discuss with him. A past I don’t want but still exists. And he seems like the type who would want to know. No, he’d have to know. He’d never let it go.
His mother had died and he’d never lived with his father. I need to know that he had family to go home to that night he’d helped me. I’d always assumed he had. Maybe I was wrong. “I’ll tell you one thing about me if you answer my question,” I say quietly.
He buries his nose in my hair, inhaling deeply, then traces his fingers over my hip and up my stomach. I think he’s not going to answer when he says, “I lived with my father’s brother. Calder is my cousin. Uncle Jack is like a father to me.”
Ah, now it makes sense. He said he’d practically grown up with Calder.
“Your turn,” he says, kissing the top of my ear as his thumb leisurely slides along the inside curve of my breast.
I rest my head on his thick bicep and feel the strength of it flex under my temple. “Writing is how I express myself. Always has been. It informs, it persuades—”
“It can destroy too,” he says in a clipped tone, cupping his hand on my arm. “I’m going to assume whatever transpired between you and my sister will be held in the strictest confidence.”
The tension in his voice, the protectiveness reserved for loved ones, is back. I nod. “Mina and I came to an understanding.”
“Good,” he says, right before he presses warm lips to my temple.
“Who’s older? You or Gavin?”
“I am. Our birthdays are five months apart.”
I’d studied the Blake family extensively. Isabel had Gavin ten months after she married Adam. That meant Adam hadn’t had an affair while they were married, which had been my initial assumption as to why Sebastian’s father hadn’t acknowledged him publically. So why isn’t Sebastian allowed to say he’s a Blake?
He slides his fingers through my hair and chuckles, an edge to his amusement. “I can practically hear the wheels turning in your investigative mind. You get one last question.”
“Why won’t your father acknowledge you?”
“I guess I embarrass him. A kid born to a tryst with a cocktail waitress.” He shrugs and rests his chin on my shoulder. “After I first came to live with him, I was angry and rebellious. I’d just lost my mom. Isabel resented my sudden presence in their home. When I lost my birthday gift the same day my father had given it to me, Isabel accused me of hocking it for cash because ‘that’s what gutter trash does.’ I said some not so nice things in return. Not long after, I got shipped off to live with my uncle. My father and I haven’t been close since. Though I was angry at the time, moving in with my uncle was honestly the best damned thing that ever happened to me,” he says, a fond smile tilting his lips.
Though his love for his uncle is obvious, I gulp, trying to clear the thickness in my throat. “What was the gift?”
He slides his hand down my arm, lacing his fingers with mine. The act melts my heart. “A watch.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, holding back the mist that gathers. Guilt swells fast and furious. Before I can say anything, he rolls me over onto my back. “Tell me what makes Mina’s story personal to you.”
I start to shake my head, but he captures my jaw, tracing his finger along it. “I’ve just told you more about me than anyone else knows.”
He’s so sincere, I close my eyes briefly, then answer honestly. “I lost my little sister a long time ago. Forces beyond my control took her life, so I know how Mina feels losing Samantha.”
He stills, his eyes searching mine. “I’m so sorry.”
“Her death was so senseless. Just like Samantha’s.”
“Do you know why Samantha committed suicide?”
When I nod, he snorts out frustration. “That’s more than we know. Mina refuses to talk about it.”
I trace the worry brackets around his mouth. “Just trust that I’m going to make it right and give Mina the closure she needs.”
He turns his head and presses a kiss against my palm. “I believe you. You have a way of getting what you want.”
If only that were true. I take in the shadowed planes of his face and try to commit to memory the feel of his hard, warm body pressing close, the intoxicating smell of cologne mixed with his after-sex musk, and the arousing soreness between my legs. I ache deep inside, already mourning losing him after tonight. I’d never let you go. Ever.
“Did you ever get closure about your sister?” he asks, taking me by surprise. Then again, I shouldn’t be. He’s incredibly aware, even when he appears to be lounging, a trait of his that’s both sexy and scary as hell for someone with secrets.
“Making it right for Mina will help me, yes,” I say cryptically.
He holds my gaze for several seconds, and I can tell he wants to ask more, but instead he just says, “If you need my help, just ask.”
I smile and drape my arms around his neck. “You’ve already helped me by letting me talk to Mina.” And so much more you’ll never know about.
He slides his hand down my neck to my chest, cupping my breast. Rubbing his thumb along the curve, he takes his time trailing it over my nipple. “You do realize you’ve just made yourself even more captivating, right? I’m ready for round two…and all the other things you’re going to tell me about yourself while you’re begging me to make you come,” he says before he lowers his head and presses a hot kiss to my throat.
He considers that round one? Oh shit, shit, shit! There’s no way I’ll be able to keep my mouth shut if he tries to get more out of me. He’s too damn good at manipulating my body. It’s a wanton traitor in his hands, succumbing to his decadent sexual skills.
But even as my thoughts swirl, his lips move along my jaw, then claim mine with a heady mix of determination and predatory mastery. I’m getting caught up in the shadows we’re hiding behind, things left unsaid. Sadness and regrets. I heard his when he talked about his past; I feel them in his intensity now. Tightening my arms around his neck, I kiss him, hoping to fill the void even if it’s just for a little while.
Sebastian had just pulled me fully under him when the phone on his nightstand buzzes. It stops, then it buzzes again. He frowns, glancing over at the screen.
“This better be good,” he grates into the phone, then he pauses and looks at me. “Yeah, I know where Scarlett is. I’ll get her.”
“What is it?” I ask, panic setting in. Had Gavin figured out who I am? Did Mina tell him?
He covers the phone. “Celeste is throwing up like a champ in the guest bathroom. Cald wants to take her home, but she’s insisting on you.”
“No, I’ll go get her,” I say, quickly sliding off the bed to grab my mask from the floor. Cass would flip if the truth came out who she really is. I hope like hell she’s managed to keep her mask on.
The second I slip my mask back on, he’s by my side
, tilting my chin up, his voice determined. “We’re not done. Nowhere near.”
I can’t help the fluttering in my stomach. Knowing that he wants to see me again makes me feel giddy inside even though I know it’s for the best that we end it here.
“Can you meet somewhere in town tomorrow?” he asks before I can voice my anxious thoughts. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
I’m dying to know what that could possibly be. I really should say no, but there is one thing I need to do now, so I nod. There’s a café in town with an old-fashioned covered porch. Marcus, a friend from school, told me to visit it while I was here. He said that it’s perfect for enjoying coffee outside. “Do you know The Grinder? I can meet you on the porch at four in the afternoon.”
He hands me my dress and corset, then traces his thumb along the edge of my mask, a victorious smile tilting his lips. “You can’t hide behind this tomorrow, Red.”
I know I can’t. I dip my head, then quickly pull on my dress.
Downstairs, Calder meets us at the door, Cass hanging on his arm. His forehead pinches in concern when she throws her arms around my neck, slurring, “Scarlett, tague me home. I feewl awfuz.”
Sebastian and Calder exchange a look when the taxi I’d called drives up. “Doesn’t she have a driver?” Calder asks.
Well shit. Celeste would have a driver pick her up. “Oh, she’s staying with me tonight, so no driver. We decided to taxi it.”
Once Cass slides across the seat, I sit down, then feel Sebastian’s hand on my shoulder. “Scoot over,” he says in a low tone.
I frown and shake my head. “We’ll be fine, Sebastian. Go back to your party and apologize to your sister for me.”
He presses his mouth in a determined slant, his hold on my shoulder tightening slightly. “I want to make sure you get home okay.”
I reach up and squeeze his hand. “Really. We’re good.”
I jump slightly when he pushes my cape’s hastily tied ribbon aside to touch the floating heart against the sensitive base of my throat. He stares at it for a second, running his finger across the gold charm, his brow furrowed as if trying to place it. I hold my breath and just as I start to pull away, he curls his fingers around mine and lifts my hand, branding a warm kiss on my palm. “Tomorrow at four.”
“Tomorrow,” I repeat, trying not to shiver at the sensations shimmying down my arm.
Once we’ve driven a couple of blocks, I instruct the cab driver to drop us off where we’d parked well away from the house. Then I pay him and half-drag, half-carry Cass to her car.
“Hmmm, you smell like cologne,” she says in my ear as I hold my shoulder against her chest to keep her upright while I open the passenger’s side door.
“You smell like a bar,” I shoot back as she collapses into her seat.
After I’ve climbed in my side, I buckle her into her seat, sweat coating my face as I flop back against mine. “Honest to God, Cass. You’re going to give me a heart attack,” I say as I crank the engine and pull out of the parking spot.
“Who knew champagne could hit you so hard,” she says, moaning slightly.
I glance her way and can’t help but snicker. Her mask is pushed up into her hair and she’s pressing her forehead to the cool window. “Hmm, you sound better, but you still look like shit.”
“I had to play up the Celeste is a lush part before I left, but it’s good to hear I look like shit, because I feel much worse than that. So glad to know I hold up well.”
I smirk. “Celeste would be so proud.”
My comment draws a wan smile. She turns her pale face my way. “Please tell me you at least got to talk to Mina.”
I nod and turn onto a main road, my tone dry. “Yeah. And by the way, that condom popped out at the most inappropriate time.”
When she giggles evilly, then winces and holds her forehead, I chuckle.
“Did you get to use the condom?” she asks, blinking to keep her eyes open. I guarantee it’s so she won’t get the spins.
“I don’t kiss and tell,” I say and head in the direction of her place.
“No fair. If I didn’t get any, you should at least tell me about your sexcapades.”
I’m a little surprised by her comment. “Didn’t you hit it off with Mr. Navy?”
She nods, then frowns. “Too bad he thinks he kissed Celeste.”
“Unfortunately, that’s the downside of pretending to be someone you’re not,” I say in a low tone, knowing all too well how that truth caught me by surprise tonight. When Cass doesn’t respond, I glance over to see she’s already snoring lightly against the window.
Chapter Eight
‡
“Don’t touch me! Get your hands off me!”
Panic whips me into a frenzy. I flail my arms, heart racing. Hands touch my arms in the darkness, then wrap around my shoulders, squeezing me tight. Finally, Cass’s voice bleeds through. “It’s a nightmare, Talia!”
I roll over onto my back, inhaling deeply through my nose, then exhaling. In and out until I feel like I’m going to faint.
Her soft hand touches my face. “You’re okay. I’m right here.”
I squeeze the tears back, but a few manage to escape. She brushes them away with her knuckles and then pulls me into a tight hug. “It’s okay.”
When I stop panting, she says, “You haven’t had one of those in a while. Do you want to talk about it?”
I capture her hand and roll onto my side, pulling her with me. “No.”
She snuggles close and I feel her nod against the back of my neck. “One of these days you’re going to tell me.”
I run my fingers across the scars on her wrist. “Just like you’ll tell me, right?”
When she sighs her answer, I nod my understanding. “I love you, Cass, but you still smell like a bar.”
Snickering, she hugs me close, purposefully breathing alcohol fumes across my neck. “Ugh!” I try to roll away, but she just clasps me tighter. The fact that we laugh despite our sisterly silence makes me smile even as I struggle to free myself.
“Think about the fact you finally got laid last night instead. Hold on to the positive thoughts.”
Her comment makes me go still in her arms. “How did you know that?”
“Because you smell like cologne and taste like sweat.” Licking my cheek, she giggles when I gag and swat her away. “And because you wouldn’t tell me. That’s how I know.”
I don’t say anything more, but as we lay there quietly the remnants of the dream linger, and my mind gets unwillingly drawn back to the first time Hayes attacked me.
Walt had just left our apartment to run an errand. I don’t pay much attention to what he says, because I’m studying for a math test while I can. Amelia will be getting up from her nap in an hour.
I hear the TV blaring in the apartment next door and Hayes and Jimmy cheering for their favorite teams. I don’t remember when Walt installed the door that joins our apartments, but I wish he had made it soundproof when Hayes yells through it for me to bring him a beer from our fridge. Grinding my teeth, I quickly put down my pencil and do as he asks, because I don’t want Amelia to wake up early.
Jimmy shoves his shoulder-length blond hair back and winks at me as he grabs his beer from my hand.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He’s lanky and harmless, but also around thirty-five. Yuck!
I never have liked Hayes though. Around forty, he’s thin and wiry, with spiked brown hair and a ruddy complexion. The few instances I’ve brought them a beer or pizza that’d been delivered to our door, his dark eyes watched me with a predatory gleam as he sat there in the leather arm chair, rubbing his right ankle crossed over his left knee. I always kept my distance, and even now I stay as far back as I can and hold the beer can out for him, saying impatiently, “Here.”
But he doesn’t just grab the beer. He grabs my hand around it too, yanking me into his lap. The armchair swivels with my thrashing as he wraps his arms tight around my waist and
laughs.
“Damn, you remind me of my old lady before she got preggo and fat,” he rumbles. “That crazy bat went downhill after she whelped out my scrawny excuse for a son.”
When he slides his hand up my shirt, I squeal my outrage and kick at the floor, trying to push off him and free myself. “Let me go! Walt’s going to kill you!”
Jimmy’s chuckling, his eyes are glassy as he watches and takes a sip of his beer.
“He won’t do jack shit,” Hayes says, then clamps a hand on my breast at the same time he fists his other hand in my hair. “All this long, fiery hair is such a cock-tease. Just like Brenna’s used to be.”
Bile gags my throat as he leans in and sniffs, grinding something hard against my butt. Is that his…oh, God! I kick his shin with the back of my foot, then his ankle at the same time I scratch his arm. Anything to get away from him.
“Fucking bitch!” He yells and yanks my hair hard, making me cry out. “Hold still, you little tease. I just want a taste.”
Tears explode from my eyes, and I scream as he unsnaps my bra and grabs my breast with rough fingers. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.
Walt bursts through the door, his normally impassive face a mask of fury as he quickly yanks me from Hayes’ grasp. “What the fuck, Hayes! She’s just a kid.”
Hayes readjusts himself in his pants, then grabs up his fallen beer from the carpet. Popping it open, he shrugs as he wipes the foam on his jeans. “She got me hot, standing there all defiant-like.”
Shoving me through the doorway into our apartment, Walt murmurs, “Go get Amelia…and never come in here again. Ever.”
Amelia’s crying for her bottle. I stumble while trying to re-hook my bra before I get to her room.
“She’s fucking twelve-years-old, you perverted son of a bitch,” Walt yells.
“Watch it. Don’t forget who owns you,” Hayes snaps back, his tone menacing.
Grabbing up Amelia’s tense body, I carry her to my room and hold her close, crooning to comfort her. I quake all over as I stare out my window. My gaze locks on the fire escape and I breathe deeply, willing it to comfort me like it has in the past. When my heart continues to pound, my attention slides to the ladder. Hayes and Walt’s voices have lowered, but I can still hear them. The door must not have latched when I left.
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