by Paige North
“Ivy, you were out cold,” Cullen told her. His piercing blue eyes searched her for clues. “Have you ever fainted like that before?”
She found Cullen’s concern for her touching and surprising—but in a good way.
Ivy shook her head. “No. Never.”
“Your vitals are strong, pulse is steady, eyes are clear—speech and hearing don’t appear impaired. You seem okay, but I want to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”
Ivy forced herself to sit up fully now. “I seem okay because I am okay.”
But Cullen’s expression showed that he wasn’t sold on her improvement. “What were you doing right before you passed out?”
She shook her head, nervous from these questions. His words were gentle, but probing acutely, just like his fingers had probed and found the sore lump on her head.
Ivy didn’t want him to find the other sore spot—the one in her conscience.
“I don’t really remember what I was doing when I fainted,” she lied. “It’s a bit fuzzy. I think I was checking my phone or something.” She hated continuing the charade, but he’d backed her into a corner with his questions.
“Unfortunately, your phone didn’t take the fall as well as your head did.” He grinned slightly, as he gestured to the pieces of plastic nearby on the floor.
“I always knew Mom was right to call me hard-headed.” She smiled back at him, thinking how kind and sensitive he could look one moment, and then how drastically his expression could shift when he became withdrawn or angry.
“We’ll get you a new phone,” he said, as if not wanting her to have anything to be worried about. Suddenly, his head tilted to the side. “Shit,” he said, sniffing the air.
“What?”
“I left the eggs on the burner. They’re probably burnt.” He got up. “You wait here,” he told her, pointing at her for emphasis. “Don’t move a muscle, I’m just going to run to the kitchen.” Cullen walked quickly from the room and Ivy sighed, putting a hand to her forehead.
What are you doing? This has gone too far. He’s being so good to you and this is how you repay his kindness?
She was so confused. Nothing in life had ever prepared her for a situation like this, and she had nobody to turn to for help.
Cullen could help you if you’d let him.
But no.
If she told him, she would jeopardize everything, including her freedom. And he’d probably end up hating her for it anyway.
Ivy slowly climbed to her feet, and then she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her again. She saw spots, and then the world began to swim before her eyes.
She stumbled as Cullen came back into the room and saw her.
“Ivy!” he called out. “What are you doing?”
She tripped and stumbled even worse, sprawling towards the floor again—this time face-first.
Luckily, Cullen reacted quickly, jumping to grab her before she could fall hard. He caught her in his strong arms and lifted her back to her feet. “I told you not to get up,” he said.
“I know, but…” she tried to stand on her own.
Cullen held her. “No buts. You need to listen better.” He looked into her eyes as he kept his arms around her. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I just got dizzy again for a second. But I’m better now. I swear.”
He stroked her hair. “You need to take care.” His voice was actually soft. His eyes were still liquid, not ice. His entire demeanor was so different and it melted her heart to know that he cared so much.
“I’m sorry.”
“Less apologizing and more listening,” he said. “As usual.” His lips twitched into another smile.
“I’ll do better,” she told him, and then burst into tears. Her shoulders shook as he held her tightly.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”
He stroked her hair and held her, whispering in her ear. “You don’t disappoint me, Ivy. Far from it.”
After a bit, he let her go, watching her with his blue eyes as she stood there, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
He sighed. “The bad news is, breakfast got burned.”
“I don’t care. I’m not that hungry. Besides, I can get something at the office.”
“The office?” Cullen said, frowning.
“It’s almost time to leave for work. I can’t be late again. Emma will have my head on the chopping block.”
“You’re not fit to work today.” He shook his head and placed his hands on his hips.
“I just had a little spell.” She waved his concern off. “I’m going into work.”
“I don’t think so,” he replied, shaking his head firmly from side to side. “I need to keep an eye on you.”
“You can’t watch over me forever,” she laughed, rolling her eyes as her cheeks flushed from receiving so much of his attention.
“I can watch over you today, and the rest of the weekend.”
Her mouth dropped open. “The weekend?”
“Pack your bags,” Cullen said. “You’re coming with me.”
Cullen made a few business calls on the drive. Ivy couldn’t make heads or tails of most of it, and didn’t really try to.
Just the sound of his voice, so calm and sure and deep—it was comforting.
The car sailed smoothly along as the CEO maneuvered easily in and out of traffic, even while talking business and making decisions on the fly.
Her bags were sitting in the back seat and Ivy still couldn’t believe that Cullen had actually insisted that she come and stay with him for the weekend. Not to mention, the fact that he was taking the day off work to watch over her.
She sighed, smiling a little at this strange turn of events.
But the smile died on Ivy’s lips when she looked in the side mirror on the passenger door and thought she saw a black sedan tailing them, with Lucas in the driver’s seat.
She sat up straighter and looked more closely. But then she realized it wasn’t Lucas after all, and her breathing slowed.
Cullen was off the phone now. “Everything okay?” he asked.
She nodded, sitting back in her seat and trying to relax. It had just been a trick of her imagination. Lucas wasn’t tailing them like some ridiculous Hollywood movie.
Except, she knew it wasn’t that ridiculous. Someone had taken those pictures and texted her this morning, along with the threatening messages.
“I’m just tired,” she said.
“Do you have a headache? Any nausea?” Cullen instantly replied.
Ivy giggled a little at his caution. “No, Cullen. I don’t have a head injury. I just bumped it a little.” She touched the back of her head and winced from the pain. The bump there was pretty big. She’d hit it good.
“You can rest when we get to my place,” he said. “I’ll make you some food and set you up with everything you need to be comfortable while you recuperate.”
“Okay,” she sighed, giving into his insistence that she needed recovery time from her fainting spell.
The truth was that she felt mostly fine, other than the sore noggin. What was bothering her had little to do with the fall and everything to do with the reason she’d passed out in the first place.
As they pulled up to the reserved parking spot in front of Cullen’s building, he swore under his breath.
Ivy followed his perturbed gaze and saw a woman sitting on his front steps, smoking a cigarette. It was the woman she’d seen fleeing his apartment the other day in the early morning hours.
“Who is that?” Ivy asked, glancing at him to see his reaction.
Cullen’s face was impassive, his expression unreadable. But his eyes had hardened into ice once more. “Nobody you need to worry about,” was all he said as he parked.
When they got out of the car, Cullen went and grabbed the bags from the backseat and then told Ivy to walk with him. “Just stay with me,” he said softly. “And no matter what she s
ays, ignore her.”
As he gave these instructions, the woman put out her cigarette and started towards them. “I need to talk to you,” she said, her voice pleading. She was wearing a very chic dark coat and sunglasses, and her hair was pulled tightly back in a ponytail. “Please, don’t ignore me.” Her voice broke in midsentence.
Cullen walked stiffly forward, motioning for Ivy to stay close. He didn’t respond to the woman.
Ivy couldn’t help but look at her. Was she an ex-lover? If so, why was Cullen behaving so heartlessly towards her?
The woman raised her voice, stepping in front of them now on the walkway. She pulled her sunglasses off and Ivy was alarmed to see the dark circles and bags beneath her eyes. It seemed to add two decades to the woman’s age.
“It’s getting worse,” the woman said to Cullen. “If you won’t help, I don’t know what else to do. You have to at least try. Please, help me. Please.”
Cullen didn’t respond, but she wouldn’t move. Finally, he addressed her in a formal sounding tone. “Move aside. I will call the police if you continue harassing me.”
“Why won’t you even try? Why do you act as if it all means nothing to you? Are you really as cruel and uncaring as they say?” she asked.
“I told you to move.” He stared at her for a long while, and she reluctantly stepped aside.
“I’m going to wait here day and night until you acknowledge me.”
“Then you’ll be waiting a long time. Better pack a lunch,” he called back, without looking. Moments later, he’d unlocked the door and allowed Ivy in.
Ivy turned to watch the woman from just inside the doorway, unable to keep herself from staring. It was somehow awful, but also fascinating.
“Don’t engage her,” Cullen whispered, before shutting the door hard and spinning the deadbolt.
He continued walking, bringing Ivy’s bags down the hall and to the bedroom she’d stayed in the other night when she’d slept over.
Ivy was surprised that she was staying in that room again. She’d assumed he’d have wanted her to stay in the master bedroom with him. And that made her stomach churn with new anxiety.
As usual, Cullen Sharpe called all the shots and answered to no one.
Ivy went and opened the curtain on the front window and peered out, seeing the mystery woman lighting a new cigarette and standing on the walkway. The woman turned and spotted Ivy watching her from the window. The woman gave a small wave and then brought the cigarette to her red, heavily painted lips.
Ivy let the curtain fall back into place and moved away from the window, her heart beating fast.
When Cullen reemerged from the bedroom, he looked as calm and blasé as ever, despite knowing he had a stalker out front of his home.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“No, I’m not hungry,” she told him, feeling a knot of frustration in her belly.
He shrugged. “I’ll make you a fruit plate,” he said. “You should eat something.”
“I’m not hungry. Do you ever listen or do you just make assumptions?”
Cullen froze. “That sounds like disobedience.” He shook his head and his expression was one of disgust. “How many times can I explain I won’t tolerate your tantrums before I’m forced to use more convincing methods?”
Ivy decided to change the subject. “Why did you put my bags in the guest room?” she said.
“Because, that’s your room,” he said, exasperated. “Would you rather I put them in the bathroom?”
“Why don’t you let me stay in your room?”
He put his hands on his hips. “We’re not having a discussion about this subject.”
“Actually, we are. It’s happening, Cullen.”
“No, Ivy. It’s not.” He turned and walked into the large kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and began taking out various bags and containers of fruit.
She followed him into the kitchen. “You stayed in my bed all night with me last night,” she said. “How is that different than me staying in your room?”
“It just is,” he said, peering into the fridge and then finally closing the door. He walked to a knife rack on the granite counter and took a blade out, then grabbed a large cutting board and put it on the counter beside the fruit.
“You’re unbelievable,” Ivy told him, walking closer as he turned his back towards her and began chopping fruit.
“Nothing I’ve said or done is the least bit unexpected.” Cullen was chopping like a professional chef.
“I want to know who she is,” Ivy said. “That woman you’re ignoring who keeps showing up here. Is she an ex-girlfriend?”
“She’s nobody of importance. And she just needs to realize that.”
“Well, I think you’re being a real asshole to her. And to me.”
Cullen froze again and his broad back seemed to expand. “I think perhaps you should go to your room.”
“No.”
He turned and gave her a steely look. “I don’t intend to interact with a child. I’ve brought you into my home, shown you my hospitality—“
She barked a laugh that shut him up. “You call this hospitality? A crazy woman standing out front, who you won’t tell me anything about? Putting my bags in the empty room and telling me I get the wonderful privilege of sleeping alone every night while you’re nearby, refusing to be with me?”
Cullen went back to chopping fruit. “Go to your room. I’ll deal with you later.”
“Fuck that.” She turned and walked away from him, fuming mad. What made her angriest was that she’d started to think that Cullen actually felt something.
I thought he might be falling for me. How ridiculous and naïve.
Now it was all too clear he was just playing his usual games.
Ivy suddenly realized what would really get his feathers ruffled, and a vengeful smile came over her face as she quickly strode to the front door. She turned around and saw that Cullen was still chopping fruit. He’d assumed she would listen to his command.
But now she was unlocking the dead bolt and throwing the door open.
As Ivy walked outside, the mystery woman spun, her expression surprised.
Ivy closed the door and walked slowly down the steps. “Hi,” she said. “I don’t know who you are, but I thought I should at least introduce myself. My name’s Ivy.”
She extended her hand and the mystery woman took it, as she blew a cloud of smoke out of her mouth and away from Ivy. Up close, the woman looked to be perhaps in her early forties, but perhaps she’d had work done. Her face was undoubtedly beautiful, but deep sadness had sapped her of any real charm.
“I’m Peg,” the woman said. “Peg Woodhouse.”
“Nice to meet you, Peg,” Ivy said.
“Is he coming back outside or did he send you to do his dirty work?” Peg asked.
Before Ivy could answer the woman, the front door opened again and Cullen stepped out. His face was pale, with splotches of high color in his cheeks. He walked slowly down the steps towards them.
She expected him to yell, say something, scold her viciously.
Instead, Cullen suddenly scooped Ivy up and threw her over his shoulder like a child who’d thrown a tantrum in a mall and needed to be removed from the premises.
He turned around and carried her back inside without a word.
“You need to deal with this!” Peg shouted, but Cullen cut her off as he slammed the door and locked it. Then he carried Ivy down the hall to the guest room.
She kicked and screamed the whole way, trying to free herself from his grasp, but she was no match for Cullen.
He was far too strong and determined.
Finally, he deposited her on the bed of the guest room, dropping her onto it in a heap. She looked up at him, wiping strands of stray hair from her face. “You are a jerk, you know that? You’re nothing but a bully. A bully and a coward.”
His chest was rising and falling quickly from the exertion of carrying her, and his normally perfect hair was a ta
d mussed. If anything, he looked sexier than ever, Ivy decided.
And that only made her angrier. What right did he have to be so good looking, and why did he think that gave him the leeway to treat everyone else like dirt?
“You sit here and wait for me to come back,” he said, his eyes like stone.
“If you walk away, I’ll just leave. I’m not listening to anything you say.”
“Then I’ll carry you back in here,” he replied. “I’m certain you’ll tire of acting like a spoiled brat before I tire of picking you up and bringing you into the room again.”
She screamed and slammed her fists into the mattress. “I didn’t come here to be treated this way.”
“That’s exactly why you came here. Stop fooling yourself.” He shook his head slowly.
Ivy scoffed. “Stop fooling myself? That’s rich, coming from the most out of touch man I’ve ever met. You live in a bubble.”
He watched her soberly. “I’ve done you a grave disservice by allowing you to think we’re on equal footing here.”
“I’m not your pet. Or your student. Or your project. I’m a person,” she said, standing up. “Treat me like a person.”
“I’ll treat you exactly as you deserve.” Cullen stepped closer, moving like a cat, graceful, fast, his predatory instincts refined and devastating. “You know that I’m the one in charge. And your job is to listen.” His lips were so pink, so wet and soft.
This close to him, she felt herself weakening. Why was she so defiant? Ivy was having trouble remembering, struggling to keep her will, when really what she wanted was his kiss. His touch.
“I just wish—“ she began.
His hands shot out and gripped her waist. “You don’t get what you wish until you prove you can listen and obey. Then and only then, I make your wishes come true.”
Her nipples stiffened and her center moistened, as his strong hands held her in place. His breath was on her cheek, as she turned and met his confident gaze.
“You make it impossible,” she whispered.
“If it was easy, anyone could be in this position,” he replied. “But only you can be here with me, right now. You’re the one I wanted, Ivy.” His hand slid up her waist and then encircled her breast, squeezing, as she moaned.