by Meghan March
I should have known he couldn’t keep that promise.
My world revolved around his career. Going wherever his tour took us. Making sure he never disappointed his fans. Keeping him off drugs and away from damaging publicity.
He’d been careful; I’d give him that. He hadn’t gotten caught by the paparazzi. But that didn’t change a thing.
I refused to be that woman. I wasn’t going to give him another day of my life when he refused to treat me with the most basic level of respect, and had been lying to me for who knows how long.
I’ll still never forget his face when I told him it was over and I was filing for divorce.
Absolutely stunned shock.
Then came the rage. His screams that I would never humiliate him like that.
I stayed stoic. Refused to back down.
That’s when he turned cruel.
I can still hear his words ringing in my head. “I don’t know why you care now. I’ve been fucking around for ten years. I never loved you. I needed you. There’s a difference.”
Then I played my trump card. I told him he’d give me a quick and quiet divorce, or I’d tell the truth and everyone would know what a fraud he’d always been.
His temper detonated and he charged me. I ran for the safe room and locked him out. He pounded on it for an hour, threatening to kill me if I ever told.
When he gave up, he destroyed everything in his path on the way out—furniture, mirrors, art, walls, doors.
Crying, I called Cricket. She wanted to call the police, but I refused. Instead, I waited hours before coming out—until I saw pictures people posted, tagging him at a hotel and saying he was throwing a massive party.
I packed as fast as I could and got the hell out of the house before he could come back. I was holed up in a hotel in San Diego the next day when I got the call from the police. They needed me to identify his body.
I roll over on the futon and close my eyes, picturing the videos of hordes of angry fans screaming outside our front gate as soon as the news broke. Their signs. Their messages. The death threats.
All because they said I’d killed a legend in the making.
No one cared that Ricky’s own hand held the needle that carried the fatal dose of heroin and fentanyl.
No one cared that I wasn’t there when it happened.
No one cared about anything but Ricky Rango and the story he spun for them before he died. The story where I was the evil cheating whore of a wife who was out to destroy him and his music.
My shoulders begin to shake as the memories threaten to break me.
No. Not today. Not ever again.
I throw off the quilt and bolt out of bed. I gave him everything for ten years of my life, and I will not give him a single second more.
I have a new life to get in order, and not one single part of it will have anything to do with Ricky Rango beyond the stack of cash shoved in my purse. That was all I took when I left, besides my clothes, and I was lucky that I had squirreled away some household petty cash in the event of a rainy day. Ricky’s financial manager met with me before the funeral to inform me that there was no money left due to Ricky’s outrageous spending habits.
I reach for my purse and count out the bills.
Four thousand six hundred and nineteen dollars. It’s not going to last me long, even though Gable is cheaper than LA.
I need to find a way to pay my own way. I’m thirty-one, infamously widowed, and have no marketable job skills for a town like Gable besides being a half-decent cleaning lady a decade ago.
Flopping back on the bed, I squeeze my eyes shut and think about what the hell someone here might pay me to do.
Working for the Riscoffs is out of the question. My pride won’t let me . . . at least, not unless I’m starving.
Lead wilderness hikes with Cricket? I’d get lost five minutes into the woods.
I have no idea what Karma does, but there’s no way I can work with her.
Which leaves coffee shops, bars, and other places Ricky’s fans could easily get to me. I touch my cheek where my black eye is probably fading into an awesome purplish green.
No. I can’t make myself an easy target.
While I’m contemplating what the hell I’m going to do with my life, someone bangs on the door. I jump, grabbing the stack of money and shoving it under a pillow, just in case it’s Karma.
“You up, Whit?” It’s Aunt Jackie.
“Yeah, one sec.” I hurry to the door and pull it open. “Sorry, getting a bit of a late start this morning. Cricket and I talked half the night.”
Jackie’s answering smile shines brilliantly enough to light up the dreary morning. “She left a note on the counter telling me that having you home was the best wedding present she could ask for.”
I wrap my arms around my middle and smile. “I’m glad me coming home makes at least a couple people happy.”
“You’ve got two people firmly in that camp, and I’m sure a whole lot more.” She narrows her gaze on me, and I flinch as she reaches a hand toward my face. “Hey, calm down. Just want to see that eye of yours. I thought you did a half-assed job covering it, but you’ve got a doozy of a bruise. Who do I need to kill?”
“He got arrested, and I pressed charges. If they want me to come back to LA to testify, I might have to drop the case.”
Aunt Jackie’s mouth screws tight. “Oh, hell no. We’ll go back together and teach that bastard a lesson.”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that, but I appreciate it.” Her ferocity in my defense makes my eye hurt a little less.
“That’s family. It’s what we do. Speaking of family . . . are you going to your parents’—”
I shake my head. “No. I can’t. Not yet.”
Jackie sighs but there’s not much she can say. She can’t make me deal with things I refuse to deal with.
“Okay. Well, I was coming out here to see if you wanted to sneak into the resort with me today and use up some of my spa credits I get for bonuses. You look like you could use a day of pampering. Maybe they can cover up that bruise a little better for you too. Or even put some fancy stuff on your face to heal it faster. I don’t do facials, but everyone raves about the girls there.”
In my former life, facials were a regular thing, but I don’t expect to continue partaking in them now.
“I don’t need all that. I’m fine. You should use them on yourself. Or save them for Cricket for the wedding.”
“I’ve got tons of credits. If I was gonna use them myself, I would’ve. I already blocked off a chunk for you girls for the wedding too.” She eyes me skeptically. “Don’t tell me you couldn’t use a few hours of relaxation. Maybe a massage to help work out some of that tension you’re holding on to so tightly.”
She’s not wrong, but . . .
“It’s a Riscoff resort.”
Jackie tilts her head to the right. “Put that out of your mind and get dressed. I’m not taking no for an answer. Anyway, I’m guessing you’d rather spend the day on Riscoff property rather than listening to Karma slam doors and blare music while the girls are gone. According to the neighbors, that might as well be her job instead of that online stuff she does.”
Well, that answers one question about what Karma does for work. And no, I don’t want to be around her any more than I have to be, at least until her attitude calms down.
“Fine. You win. I’ll be ready in ten.”
16
Whitney
The drive up to The Gables takes twenty minutes. It’s perched on the side of a mountain overlooking the river that cuts through the gorge. Ricky once played at the Biltmore Estate in North Carolina, and I wondered if the Riscoffs felt inadequate, so they had to try to build something even more grand. It’s over two hundred thousand square feet, and I don’t even want to think about how much it cost to build.
It’s also only a few miles down the road from the Riscoff estate. But I won’t be going anywhere near that place.
Actual
ly, I can’t believe I’m even daring to go to The Gables.
Aunt Jackie guides the car past the front gate and turns down a road that leads around the side. I stare at the structure silently as we pass by it. I would love to call it a monstrosity, but instead it’s like something out of a fairy tale. It looks like a French chateau on crack that should have a prince and princess presiding over it. But the Riscoffs rule here.
I attempt to put that fact out of my brain, but it’s pointless. I’ll never forget that.
Aunt Jackie slows before a black gate around the rear and waves her security badge at a card reader before it slides open.
“I’ll show you to the spa, and then get to work. They always keep a few appointment slots open at all times for VIPs. If you finish before me, you can take the car home and come back to get me at six.”
VIPs? That’s what I used to be, but I’m definitely not anymore.
“Are you sure this is a good idea? I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“Shush. Ms. Riscoff wants her employees to be happy, and this makes me happy. I’m not getting in trouble for anything unless I don’t get inside and get to my desk in the next sixteen minutes.”
As Jackie parks the car, I get a view of the back of the resort and the towering shrubs that surround the garden maze.
The garden maze I’ll never forget because of Lincoln.
17
Whitney
The past
“Where are we going?”
“Keep your eyes closed.”
It was a miracle that I’d agreed to the blindfold, and probably a sign I should have been questioning my sanity. But Lincoln had a surprise, and he talked me into going along with it while holding out on letting me come. He plays dirty in bed.
From beneath the cloth over my eyes, everything was dark, and I was terrified someone was going to see us together, even though he promised he wouldn’t let that happen. He didn’t seem to understand how big of a disaster it would be if we got caught. I couldn’t imagine dealing with the fallout. Maybe his attitude was different because he was used to having power, and I was used to having none. Either way, I couldn’t risk it.
“Okay. You can look now.”
I pulled the blindfold off and found we were surrounded by walls of green. “Where are we?”
“The maze.”
I looked at him like he was crazy. “What maze? Where?”
“The Gables. I used to play here as a kid. It was—”
“You brought me to The Gables?” I covered my mouth to cut off my screech. In a much quieter tone, I asked, “Why would you do that?”
The excitement faded from his features. “Because you won’t let me take you on a damned date, and as much as I would love to stay in bed and do nothing but fuck you, you deserve better.”
The simple words of his statement hit me hard in a place I’d been keeping armored against him.
“You can’t say things like that to me,” I whispered, looking away.
Lincoln’s fingers lifted my chin. “I can and I will. We’re both better than that.”
“I can’t—”
“I know. And that’s why we’re here. Unless it’s a garden party night, the maze is usually empty. It’s fine. We’re safe.”
I wanted to believe him, but my apprehension wouldn’t completely fade. Still, when he looked at me like that, like he thought I was worth so much more than I could ever conceive, it made me feel things I shouldn’t. It also made me let him have his way.
“Fine.” I conceded and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. “You win.”
Lincoln’s smile seemed to brighten the entire world. “If all it takes is a million-dollar garden to make you kiss me outside the walls of the cabin, then I’ll bring you here every day.”
Instead of focusing on the sweetness he kept dishing out, I latched onto the other part of the statement. “A million dollars? Are you serious?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. My great-grandmother went over the top when she expanded it.”
I couldn’t even comprehend that much money. Or how easily Lincoln talked about it. That was one thing that would always separate us like an impenetrable wall.
I was broke. He was richer than sin.
“Come on. I didn’t just bring you here to stand around. We’re going to play a game.” His smile morphed into a mischievous grin I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist.
Why am I so weak when it comes to him? I decided I didn’t care right now. I just wanted to keep that look on his face.
“What kind of game?”
“I’m going to give you a head start to find the center, and you’re going to leave me clues about which direction you take.”
“Clues?”
“In the form of clothes.”
I jerked back. “Oh, hell no. Not happening.”
“You always say that . . . but eventually you change your mind.”
He took my hand, but I pulled it free and poked him in the chest with my index finger. “Not this time, rich boy. You wanna play that game, you’re stripping.”
Lincoln’s smile widened. “Fine. But when you find me naked, I’m not going to be responsible for what happens.”
Somehow, against all odds, a flutter of excitement built inside me, even though objectively I knew this was a terrible idea.
Indecision warred in my brain, and Lincoln, who read me way too accurately, must have seen it.
“Give me a two-minute head start, and don’t you dare leave me here alone, Blue.” He pulled me against him and took my lips in a hard kiss.
I swallowed, still second-guessing this, but I repeated his words. “Two-minute head start.”
His grin widened. “Just so you know, you’re the most fun I’ve ever had.”
Before I could reply, or even absorb the words fully, he disappeared into the maze.
As soon as he was out of sight, my reservations came flooding back.
This is the best worst plan ever. We’re going to get caught. With Lincoln naked.
And yet, I counted to 120 and darted in the direction he went. Within fifty feet, I hit a fork.
Shit. Which way? I peered down each path and spotted a shoe down one. A smile tugged at my lips as I imagined Lincoln dropping it for me.
Maybe this is kind of fun.
I ran to the shoe and grabbed it, heading down the corridor of hedges, excited to hit another choice. When I did, I found another shoe. And then a sock. Another sock.
Then his shirt.
Now we’re talking.
My man liked to go commando, so there might not be much left now.
I froze where I stood.
My man?
What the hell?
Uh. No. He’s not my man. He’s a fling. That’s it. That’s all. It’s just a rebound. A forbidden rebound.
Even as I told myself this, I knew I was lying.
Lincoln Riscoff had already turned me into an addict, and I was dangerously close to feeling things about him that I shouldn’t be feeling. He’d cast a spell on me . . . otherwise, there was no way I’d be standing in the maze at The Gables right now. Before I could think more on it, I heard a whisper.
“Blue, I’m starting to get cold over here.”
My head jerked to the right and everything faded away except for the knowledge that Lincoln was naked and not far away.
I wasted no time heading for the shorts I saw on the ground, but before I could reach them, Lincoln’s arms wrapped around me and he picked me up from behind. A burst of laughter broke free from my lips as the clothes and shoes I’d gathered dropped to the grass.
“A little eager to find me?”
“You’re naked, aren’t you?”
His breath was hot against my ear. “Is that all you want from me? My body? Shame on you. You know I’m more than that.”
I did know, and that was the problem.
I swallowed and turned in his arms. “I sure don’t want you for your name or your money.”
>
Once again, I succeeded in sucking the lightheartedness out of the moment. Lincoln’s features darkened, but not with anger.
“That’s one of my most favorite things about you.”
His mouth crushed against mine, and he devoured me. I lost track of how long he kissed me, standing naked there in that maze. My hands were everywhere, skating over his hard muscles as I gripped his shoulders.
“I want you,” I whispered.
“Who’s there?” a man called out.
We both went silent. I attempted to tug out of Lincoln’s arms, but he held me tight.
“Lincoln Riscoff. Who’s asking?” There was something about the confident way he said his name that made it clear he didn’t expect to be challenged.
I pulled harder and he finally released me as someone came around the corner of the final hedge that led to the center of the maze, and I ducked behind Lincoln’s back.
“Sorry, sir. Didn’t expect to see you . . . I’ll just be going then.”
I recognized the voice. It was a guy my aunt Jackie dated occasionally. He was a groundskeeper here. Shit.
“And you won’t be mentioning this to anyone either, will you?”
“No, sir. Of course not, sir.”
I could picture him trying to sneak a glimpse over Lincoln’s shoulder to identify who was with him, so I didn’t risk a look.
We heard him shuffle away, and I stayed huddled until Lincoln turned around. I immediately stepped back and reached down to grab the pile of clothes and throw them at him.
“We have to go. Now. Right now. We can’t—”
Lincoln yanked on his shorts and snagged my wrist to pull me back into his arms. “Stop panicking. It’s fine. He’s not going to say a word. If he does, he knows he’ll lose his job.”
“But—”
“Whitney. Stop.” Lincoln didn’t usually use my name, and it got my attention more effectively than anything else would in that moment. “I’m not going to let anyone find out about us. Nothing bad is going to happen to you because we’re together. I promise.”