“No.” Darius smiles gently, brushing his fingers across my face. “It makes you Taylor.”
“Which means?”
“Your heart is warm.” When my brows furrow in obvious confusion, he chuckles, and soothes away the lines between my eyebrows with his thumb. “You’re also strong, and I don’t doubt that the second Shawn got violent you left.” His eyes follow his hand as he tucks my hair behind my ear, and my heart trips at the way he smiles so softly at me. “But I suppose now it explains how you got wrapped up with a guy like that. You didn’t know he had previously been violent, did you? And then once you found out, you cared about him because he explained this past to you?”
“It’s just…” I sigh, not really knowing how to answer this question. “I guess I feel bad for what he went through. It gave me a reason for why he sometimes got so angry. I hoped loving him would fix him.”
“You can never fix anyone,” Darius states.
I almost want to laugh at that, because how true is that statement. If I could’ve fixed a man, I would’ve fixed the guy in the bed with me. Instead of commenting on that, I reply, “I hoped that love would be enough to help him through his past troubles and to see that life can be more than what he thought it could be. That he deserved more.” I shiver a little as Darius slowly drags his fingers up and down my arm, and add, “Everyone has a past, and until that past affected me, I wouldn’t hate him for it.”
Darius processes that. Then, “Do you hate him now?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because people deal with pain differently.” I see the hardness that comes over Darius’s face as he recognizes that I also mean him. “Shawn deals with his with alcohol, and alcohol is what makes him violent.”
Darius pauses again. “And how do you deal with your pain?”
I snort softly. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not to me.”
“I never deal with my pain, always trying to see the good in everything and hoping for the best, so I’m in this stupid circle of life where everything keeps repeating itself.” I laugh, but I’m the only one who does.
Silence cuts harshly into the air.
Darius’s hard and deep eyes are locked on mine, and he’s thinking about something, slowly peeling back all the layers of me until he finds whatever he’s looking for. “This guy, Taylor…he was lucky to have you in his life.” I note the way his jaw clenches before he adds, “I was lucky to have you.”
My heart swells so much, I swear it could explode out of my chest. It’s when he says things like this that I’m reminded how rare these moments truly are. I stare at him, feeling like five years have gone by in a blur. It’s like I never left and moved away. It’s like he never ended things, filling my life with passion and intensity, always there to protect me. It’s like he never hurt me, never let me walk away.
A firm tap on my nose drags me from my thoughts, and Darius’s soft smile greets me. “Oh, now that’s the look you give when you’re thinking too hard.”
I’m thinking about you…about us…about my life on repeat…echoes in my head.
Maybe now that I’m reminded of how I deal with my pain, or don’t deal with it, I realize I’m right back to where I always go. Me loving him. Him loving me. And yet…that’s never enough. Because I know, and I can see in the shadows of his eyes that he realizes it, too, that soon something will tear us apart. Something will happen where Darius will shut me out, and where I will decide that I need more than he’s giving me. Because as much as we do this so well, we hurt each other just as well.
Because that’s our thing. Somehow that’s our reality. Our fucked up fate.
His brows draw together tight at the emotion he sees crossing my face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I swallow my emotions and turn my head, kissing his thumb. “I’m okay.” That’s a lie. I’m not okay. My heart is breaking, because I don’t understand how a man can make me feel so much good and ultimately also destroy me.
Chapter 14
Darius
A knock on the door drags me out of bed. I take a quick look at Taylor, sleeping soundly beneath the sheets, jealous that I can’t blanket her with my body instead of the goddamn fabric. She lies like a sleeping beauty, awaiting my kiss to wake her.
When another knock comes at the door, I break away and grab a pair of black workout pants and a T-shirt from the bag my driver delivered to me a couple hours ago upon my request. I quickly yank on my pants and then flick on the hallway light on my way out the bedroom door.
As I pass through the hallway, lined with landscape photography on the walls, I toss the light blue T-shirt over my head. The third knock sounds urgent, and I whisk the door open as I settle the T-shirt into place against my abs, when I see Allie’s wide eyes examine me from head to toe.
One second later, my sweet little sister glares at me. “What in the hell are you—”
“There’s no time for that,” Micah cuts her off, eyes intent on me. “Can we come in?”
“Yes, of course.” I open the door wider, allowing Micah to step through. I smile at Allie’s glare as she follows. Yes, I care deeply for her, but she is still my baby sister. What I do or don’t do with her best friend is not up for discussion or debate.
Allie stomps her way into the living room, then turns back to me, arms folded. “Where is Taylor?”
“I’m here.”
We all turn toward the sleepy voice as Taylor enters from the hallway, tying the belt of her white robe into a knot. I grin at her messy hair and flushed cheeks. She looks well fucked, and I happen to like that particular look on her.
I shut the front door and face Allie to find her glare is now a full-on scowl. I’m used to such a reaction, so I let the look roll off me. Allie never liked my dating Taylor, but she tolerated it because she loves us both and knew we made each other happy. I imagine, though, my sleeping with Taylor now is only infuriating her. Which, of course, is none of her business.
To Micah, I push the conversation along. “What’s up?”
“Ryder came to our house about an hour ago,” he explains, watching my sister move to the chair next to the couch. Allie still glares at me.
I, of course, ignore her, entering the living room, taking a seat on the couch beside Taylor.
Micah sighs heavily, taking a seat on the armrest next to Allie, and comfortingly pats her thigh before addressing me again. “First, this is for you.” He reaches into his pocket, then offers me a cellphone. “It’s a secured cell that can’t be traced, and that Ryder can destroy electronically if it gets into the wrong hands.” I accept the phone as Micah goes on, “All of our contact numbers are in there. Use those for any and all conversations that we have between us.”
“Got it,” I confirm.
Micah holds up another cellphone that matches the one he gave me. He taps the screen, then places it on the coffee table. That’s when I realize he’s showing us a photograph. Luckily, Taylor isn’t in it.
I hear the relief in her voice as she asks, “What is that?”
“A bug,” Allie says.
I frown. “As in, a recording device?”
Micah nods. “Ryder did a sweep of Gabe’s bar and found it.”
“What would even make him think to do that?” Taylor asks, eyes wide. “I mean, is bugging people a normal occurrence for you all?”
“Not in my world,” I say to her, draping my arm behind her on the couch. “But Ryder works security. For him, I imagine, being spied on and being recorded probably go hand in hand.”
Micah agrees with a nod. “Even I’m having a hard time believing all this.” Frustration burns heavily in his eyes. “Especially because Ryder found two bugs, not only one.”
“Two?” Taylor gasps, crossing her legs. “I’d say this is almost exciting. Like, the whole Mission Impossible type of deal, but considering they’re using these bugs to spill my secrets, I probably shouldn’t.”
The small amount of thigh Taylor
is showing catches my attention, until Allie laughs dryly, and says, “I couldn’t agree more.”
I sigh, and hear Micah’s sigh, too. This just got way worse. I give the photo of the bug a deep look and swipe against the screen, spotting the second bug that he’s mentioning. “Where were these found?”
“One at the table we always meet at,” Micah explains. “The other was found by the corner stool at the bar.”
I shake my head, leaning back against the couch, disgusted that anyone would go to these lengths to dig up dirt on us. This isn’t just bad behavior by the tabloids; this is something else entirely, something very illegal. “Unbelievable,” I mutter.
Taylor leans closer to me, and I can’t stop my eyes from wandering to the way her robe slides farther off her thigh, exposing her skin to me. It’s a tease. It’s an offer. I harden, just that easily. I clear my throat, grabbing the fabric and settling it back over her thigh. She’s a distraction. One I can’t have at the moment.
“It really explains a lot,” says Allie, voice hard, clearly to interrupt us, her gaze throwing daggers at me. “It’s why they only know pieces of stories, not the whole thing. Like they knew what happened with Shawn, but they never printed his name.”
“Because that wasn’t ever discussed?” Taylor asks.
“We are usually very careful with things like that,” I tell her, pleased she doesn’t look upset for talking about her to others. “Though, of course, we never thought anyone would go as far as recording us.”
Micah runs a hand over his face. “We’re only lucky what’s been printed is all that’s gotten out.” He drops his hand, and the dark circles under his eyes speak to his worry.
I nod, understanding where his mind’s at. We’re damn lucky that we never spoke of the DC, our sex clubs, or anything else at Gabe’s bar. Fuck, the scandal would be an exhausting one. I examine the pictures a little harder now. “It looks like the bugs are still there. Why didn’t Ryder remove them?”
“Because he thinks it’s best to pretend that nothing is wrong so we can find out who’s behind it,” Micah explains.
“I suppose that makes sense,” I agree.
“Which in itself is so messed up,” Allie comments, tucking her legs underneath her. “Is this what life is about now? We are actually allowing someone to tape your lives?”
Micah takes her hand, his voice soothing. “It’s a means to an end. We can feed them stories that we want to feed them, keeping them away from things we don’t want them to know about.”
I suppose that also makes sense. “Knowing Ryder, it won’t take long before he narrows down a suspect,” I tell Allie to reassure her. To Micah, I say, “Did Ryder get anything off the video surveillance? Someone must have planted the bugs.”
Micah shakes his head. “Ryder told us that about a week before the stories began to get personal, there’s an hour where the video system went down.”
“Which is likely when this person placed the bugs?” I offer.
He nods.
“And,” he adds, “the bugs cancel out noise, focusing on voices alone.”
“Holy crap,” Taylor interjects, sitting up a little straighter. “That’s gotta mean someone has money.”
I nod at her and add my thoughts, “And it also means this person is being paid well to get this information, if they have access to that type of high-tech equipment.”
Micah gives me a firm nod, leaning forward, taking another look at the photos of the bugs. “It worries me they knew we meet there sometimes. I can only take that to mean we’ve been followed for a long time to discover our habits.”
“Agreed.” I see the tension in the corners of his eyes, and I understand why it’s there. Sure, finding the bugs puts us back in control, but this is worse than any of us could have dreamed up. Taking down Gabe’s surveillance to set up bugs, high-tech equipment…Someone is very determined to expose our secrets, and the scariest question of all is, why? Is this a businessman seeking to destroy us? An enemy we don’t know we have? “Did Ryder fingerprint the bugs?”
“He says he did,” Micah answers with a nod, confirming his thoughts went to the same place mine did. “But whoever placed them doesn’t have a criminal record.” He pauses, his mouth set in a firm line. “I have no idea who could be behind this.”
“It’s gotta be for either revenge or money,” Taylor offers.
“Two very strong motives,” I say, looking at Micah.
He shakes his head at my unanswered question. “It’s no one in my past.”
“Or mine,” I confirm. The only broken heart I left in my wake belongs to the woman beside me. The women who allowed me to indulge my fantasies left with more than they had when our arrangements began, and our arrangements never lasted long enough to create emotional ties. Besides, we’ve already proved that no one who works for me needs money. And as far as I know, I have no enemies. I pinch the bridge of my nose and ask, “What’s Ryder’s plan now?”
Micah answers, “He’s got the serial numbers of the bugs, and he’s seeing if he can track down who purchased them. As soon as he knows more, he’ll tell us.”
“So what do we do until then?” Taylor asks.
I glance at Taylor and speak from the heart. “Trust no one.”
Taylor
Back in the bedroom, I’m listening to the sounds of Darius’s sleepy breaths. The clock glowing in the room suggests it’s been an hour since Allie and Micah left, but there isn’t a hope in hell I’ll be able to sleep now. So, here I lie on my back, staring up at the shadows on the ceilings, my thoughts racing.
Who’s trying to expose them? What could be their motive? What’s Darius hiding? What is any of them hiding? Is this about the club? About the sex he’s into?
I sigh.
Darius chuckles. “What’s on your mind, Taylor?”
I laugh softly, turning onto my side and facing him. “How did you know something’s on my mind?”
His eyes are still closed, face tilted toward the ceiling, one arm behind his head. “Because you keep looking at me.”
“Your eyes are shut. How can you tell?”
“I can feel you.” He turns, facing me, and the light coming from the hallway illuminates his face, showing me his greatly amused eyes. “Why don’t you ask what you want to know so you can sleep?”
I pause, picking out a single question from the hundreds of questions on my mind. “Are you worried about the club and all that stuff getting out into the public?”
“I am.”
“Why?”
He arches a brow. “You don’t think I should be?”
“Well, to be honest, not really.” I shrug against my pillow, glad to finally say it aloud. “I mean, it’s not like you’re some creeper who is hiding dead people in his closet. You have some kinky sex. What’s the problem here?”
Darius barks a laugh. It’s free, uninhibited, and also very rare. “It could always be worse, I suppose.”
“Exactly.” Over and over again, I’ve been trying to figure out why he’s so protective of his sex life and it simply doesn’t add up. Darius is never insecure or apologetic about anything. And all this fear screams insecurity. “You have such power in this city now. Sure, before I could understand why it would worry you. People can get all up in other people’s business, and you were trying to build your empire and all that stuff, but right now, in this moment, do you honestly think anyone even cares about your sex life?”
He pauses to consider, then shakes his head against his pillow. “Not now, no.”
I frown at him, utterly confused. “Then explain the concern here? Why don’t you admit that you own the club and that you’ve had some dirty, wild sex there before someone exposes you? That way you can make the story no big deal, like it is. Isn’t that the logical next step?”
“Get ahead of the story, you mean?” he asks.
“Yup, exactly.”
He hesitates. Then, “It’s not as easy as what you’re suggesting.”
&nb
sp; “Why? It seems very easy to me.” Like super easy, actually.
He draws in a long deep breath and stretches out his legs before answering me. “You’re right that now I can recover from a sex scandal. Would it annoy me greatly? Yes. But I’d recover.”
“What’s the problem, then?”
His eyes crease at the corners, tense. “What would it do to everyone at the club? Everyone who is thinking right now that they are safe and protected.” I’m beginning to understand, when he adds, “The second the tabloids got ahold of this story, yes, my secrets would come out, but so would the secrets of every person there. The tabloids would never stop. They would dig and dig and dig until every well-known member there was exposed.”
I raise my brows at that. “So there are a lot of famous members?”
“Famous?” he repeats. “No, not famous, per se, but they’re important.”
“Like, judges, people who work for the city?”
He smiles. “Many members do not live in the city. It’s safer that way.”
I blink in surprise. “I would never have guessed how many people live such exciting sex lives.”
Darius chuckles. “From kindergarten teachers to librarians to multi-millionaires, my club hosts them all.”
“And they’re not worried about being exposed?”
“No, privacy is taken seriously, as you can imagine,” he explains. “Hence why I don’t want the tabloids anywhere near my club. And the second I out myself as the owner, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”
“I see,” I say, totally understanding now. “You’re not protecting yourself anymore, you’re protecting everyone else?”
He nods.
“Always the hero,” I comment.
He snorts, lying on his back, both arms behind his head. “I really wish you would stop saying that.”
“You shouldn’t wish for that.”
“Why?” he asks, staring up at the ceiling.
“Because then that means I no longer care to remind you how amazing you are.”
Tied to His Betrayal Page 16