Someone Like You
Page 24
“I’m warning you,” Pierce growled at his father. “You come at her, I’ll make you regret it.”
Abby felt the blood drain from her face. What on earth was happening here?
“Everyone just stand down,” Charles III hissed, looking around carefully before his gaze landed on his father. “People are looking. Shut your damn mouth.”
“Watch how you speak to me,” Charles II said.
“You keep this shit up,” Charles III said, stonily calm, “and Dane and I will let go of Pierce. He’s been wanting to hit you for years. Tonight, you deserve it.”
“One more crack at Abby, Dad,” Dane added brusquely, “and I’ll fucking help him. I can’t even believe what I’ve been hearing. Not to mention that I absolutely hate the look on my wife’s face right now.”
“How could you do this? This is supposed to be a special night,” Tess pleaded.
“That they didn’t even want,” Pierce said, “and Dad insisted on having. Because his panties got in a twist that they didn’t have him at their wedding.” He cocked his head and shot him a look as his voice filled with sarcasm. “Gee, I wonder why. Maybe it’s because you’re an insufferable prick? Maybe because this whole damn family is a nightmare? They were smart to elope.”
“Stop,” Dane said to him, even as Tess subtly tried to move her father away.
“You are so much like your mother,” Charles II seethed, glaring at Pierce.
“And you hate me for it,” Pierce replied as if bored. “We all look like her, but I’m the most like her. Looking at me reminds you that she cheated on you left and right, and for months you weren’t even sure if I was yours. I’m like her because I’m reckless and moody, and I never fell in line with your bullshit, blah blah blah. We’ve heard it all before, Pops.”
“You’re also a slut like her,” Charles II hissed, his eyes narrowing. “But even your worthless mother was smart enough not to get caught for years. You got yourself thrown out of the goddamn Premier League because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants.” His thin mouth twisted as he sneered, “Still proud to be just like her?”
“Jesus Christ,” Charles III groaned. Tess gasped in horror, then muttered in disdain, “Dad. That was a new low, even for you.”
“That is it,” Dane spat angrily, whirling around to turn on his father. He stepped right up to him, their faces separated only by a few inches. “Stop. Right now. I mean it, just shut your fucking mouth.”
Tess reached for her brother’s arm. “Dane. Go. Take Julia for a walk.”
But Pierce fanned the fire, saying from behind Dane, “Maybe Mom wouldn’t have cheated on you all the time if you didn’t treat her like shit. I hope she had a ball with all those men. And there sure were a lot of ’em, huh?” His stare pinned his father as he said, “I’m not the only Harrison disgrace. She made you look like a fool.”
“Christ! Now you stop,” Charles III hissed, pointing a finger at his brother.
Julia grasped Abby’s elbow. “Come on.” She tugged before Abby could say a word and pulled her away. Abby’s face felt red hot and her heart thumped against her ribs as they made their way through the crowd, which had grown hushed as they’d witnessed the fight. The women made it to the doorway and out to the long hall.
“That whole scene is reprehensible,” Julia said as they walked. “And you know what? We don’t have to watch.” She slipped her arm through Abby’s and pulled her into a tiny alcove. One window let the moonlight in. It was furnished only with two leather armchairs and a coffee table. The quiet was a comfort; the noise of the party seemed distant somehow. Julia sat in one chair and Abby slumped into the other.
“I’m sorry about all of that,” Julia said. She shook her head. “Welcome to life with the Harrisons. What a shit show. I’m really sorry you had to listen to that.”
“That was . . .” Abby shook her head, at a loss for words. “My God. They’re family. How could they say such things to each other?”
“Years of built-up resentment.” Julia leaned back in her chair and sighed. “But tonight was the worst I’ve seen. I hope Dane’s okay. All of them. I mean . . . God, what a mess.” She smoothed out the bottom of her sparkly dress, careful strokes across her lap that were more fidgety than an attempt to straighten. “I don’t get it. It was like Charles was on a mission of destruction tonight. Either that, or he just had more to drink than any of us realized. . . .” She looked at Abby and frowned. “I’m not helping. Sorry. You look miserable. I’m not too happy myself at the moment.” Her hazel eyes narrowed, studying. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I just . . . he did a background check on me?” Abby stammered. “I want to laugh. I mean, I’m boring. I’ve lived a very average, boring life. Nothing scandalous, nothing scary or illegal. I don’t know what he was hoping to find.”
“Something to use against you just in case he ever felt he needed it,” Julia said. She waved a dismissive hand. “Super-rich people are a little crazy sometimes. That’s my personal conclusion, mind you. I’ve just seen some crazy things . . . both before knowing Dane, and since I’ve been with him. It’s a different world, that of the super wealthy and powerful.”
“It’s a very different world,” Abby agreed.
Julia’s mouth twisted sardonically. “Hey, don’t worry. If he did a check on me, there was plenty there to use as ammunition, and he never did.”
Somehow, that didn’t make Abby feel any better. “Why would he attack me like that? He doesn’t even know me. Just because I’m dating Pierce? He hates his own son that much?”
Julia sighed. “He hates that Pierce has rejected the whole Harrison legacy, that he thumbs his nose at it and wants no part of it. But more than that . . . I think it’s exactly what he said. I think Pierce reminds him too much of Laura, and it still burns his ass. Especially when Pierce lands his own bombshells in return. They’re both very strong-willed.” She shook her head and stretched her legs out, rolling one ankle, then the other. “You’re not his real target, Abby. Pierce is. He insults you, Pierce gets upset, mission accomplished. He’s not going to come after you or anything. I really wouldn’t worry about it.”
Abby felt a little sick. “He didn’t want to come tonight, you know. He only did for you and Dane.”
“I know.” Julia smiled softly. “Since he came back, he’s been trying to be part of the family more. From what Dane’s told me, I don’t think he would’ve come here a year ago, no matter how much it meant to Dane. Pierce is—has been—trying to change.”
Was he? Sorry, Abby, but you’re not special. He sleeps with any woman with a pulse, for God’s sake. That had rattled her more than she wanted to admit, because she knew it was the truth. At least, it had been. Yes, Pierce had stood up for her, and looked genuinely pained and outraged on her behalf... but did he really care about her? Or was she just another diversion, another in a long, endless string of conquests, and he was afraid his dad would blow his cover before he was done amusing himself?
She knew his father liked to play with him like a toy, and likely had said many of those things just to get a reaction. But . . . he’d sought out married women on purpose? So carelessly that it was a running joke in his team’s locker room? That was a new one. And he hadn’t denied it, had he?
Pierce did have a scandalous past . . . and tonight, she’d caught a glimpse of the bad boy Pierce Harrison, Pro Football Star she’d read about: temper like fire, eyes like ice, and seemingly capable of inflicting major damage if his brothers had let go of him. He was hot as hell. She couldn’t deny the instinctive pull she felt when his caveman came roaring out. But at the same time . . . she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in her stomach.
Between that, the knockdown verbal battle, the new things that had come to light, and the fact that she’d been professionally investigated, Abby felt unsettled, a little nauseous, and more than a little indignant. Edgewater was “blue collar but all right”? And she was a gold digger? She was only dating Pierce because he came
from a wealthy family? Was that man serious?
Apparently, he was. She’d been deemed enough of a presence in Pierce’s life that she’d warranted a background check. Again, she wondered what kind of world she’d stumbled into here. A world where fathers and sons attacked each other like hateful warriors, going for each other’s weak spots and exploiting them. She tried to swallow back the lump that had lodged in her throat. Their world may have seemed opulent from the outside, but if this dark nastiness was at the core, did she really want any part of it? Could she even walk away now if she wanted to? Pierce meant so much to her. . . .
She needed to talk to him. “I hope he’s all right,” she murmured.
“Of course he is,” Julia said. “Furious, sure, but hey, he should be. Also, according to Dane, he’s got a temper, and he’s never been one to back down from a fight. So, let them finish it. We don’t have to be spectators to all that poison, now do we? Nope.” She ran her fingers through her thick mane of red and exhaled deeply. “We’ll just hang out here for a few more minutes, then go back. They’ll have been split up and sent to separate corners by then.” She flicked a glance toward the door. “God, I could use a drink. How about you?”
“Sounds good,” Abby murmured in a slight daze, her heart still beating fast. Too much to process, too much to consider . . . or, reconsider.
* * *
Pierce sat outside on the balcony, staring out into the night as he leaned against the wide stone railing. His head was spinning, but not only from the three glasses of whiskey he’d just downed: What the fuck had happened in that ballroom tonight? He and his father hadn’t gone at it that hard in a long time—maybe ever. It was like the old man was purposely doing whatever possible to throw Pierce off-kilter, even if it meant getting at him through Abby.
Abby. Christ almighty, what a disaster. Thank God, Julia had gotten her the hell out of there. But not soon enough. Her stricken expression flashed through his mind for the hundredth time, that look of horrified astonishment on her beautiful face. She thought she was going to a party, not a hostile war zone. Not caring how it looked to anyone or about the consequences, the old man had aimed right at her, to hurt him.
It worked.
Pierce’s insides were throbbing and screaming for ten different reasons, and all the whiskey in the world wasn’t helping to drown it out. His head dropped into his hands as he leaned against the railing and his blood pulsed through his veins.
It’d been half an hour since Julia had dragged her out of the ballroom. Where was she? Maybe she’d gone home? Fuck. He should go look for her, he knew that . . . but if Abby didn’t want to date him anymore after tonight, or even see him anymore, could he blame her? He should’ve done a better job at shielding her from the barrage of insults. Maybe she was mad at him. He had no idea.
Or . . . maybe he should let her go, for her own sake.
Not drag her any deeper into this hellish freak show called The Harrison Family. Set her free to find someone normal, with a family that wasn’t a nightmare and a past that wasn’t so fucked up.
But he was selfish. He didn’t want to let her go. His feelings ran too deep, and he wanted her in his life. In his bed. At his side. She was everything he’d wanted without even knowing it.
The waiter approached him silently and held out another glass of whiskey. Pierce thanked him, took it, sipped, and closed his eyes as he tried to calm the noise in his head. Half of him wanted to bury himself in Abby for comfort, and the other half wanted to push her out the door for her own good. The battle raged inside him.
“Pierce?”
He turned to see her standing at the doorway. The light from inside shone brightly behind her, shadowing her face but outlining her in an ethereal glow. She looked like an angel. God, she was so beautiful. So sweet. So good.
Too good for you, his father’s voice whispered in his head. And deep down, you both know I’m right.
He took another gulp of whiskey.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Abby said quietly, stepping toward him. “Julia’s son told me he thought you were out here.”
“I like Colin,” Pierce said, anything to make conversation. “He’s a good guy.”
“Yes, he is.” She edged closer, her expression cautious. “So are you, you know.”
Pierce snorted. “Right.” He stole another sip of whiskey.
Her hands fidgeting with her little clutch bag, she eyed him warily and asked, “So . . . been drinking, huh?”
“Yup.”
“Understandable.” She stood before him, watching him. He said nothing, just looked back at her, until she said, “Your father’s a real bastard. I don’t like him much.”
He had to laugh at that. “Yeah, me neither.”
“You know he attacked me to get at you, right?”
His eyes narrowed on her face. “Yeah, I do. You know that too?”
“I’m a smart cookie.” Her words were teasing, but her gaze was solemn. “Have to admit, though, I don’t like being a pawn in a war.”
He stiffened as his heart skipped a beat. “I don’t want you to be.”
“So . . . what do we do about that?” she whispered.
“We never come back to this hellhole,” Pierce said, referring to the mansion.
“True. But you’ll see him again anyway. That tends to happen if you’re related.”
“Why do you think I left the fucking country at eighteen?”
“Okay, but you’re back now. I mean, you said you’re moving back here. And that you want things here, including me as your girlfriend.” Abby inclined her head, studying him, looking through him. “All that is true, right?”
His throat thickened and closed. Now. He should let her go now. Before she got in any deeper, before he fucked up her life simply by associating with him, before he loved her so much he wouldn’t be able to let her go. Could he be selfless with a woman for once in his life, even if it meant watching her walk away?
“Pierce?” Her voice got smaller.
He stared back at her, his insides erupting into war and chaos. He loved her. He really did. Because if he didn’t, none of this would hurt, much less turn him inside out.
He shook his head and gulped back more whiskey. It left a trail of fire down his throat and he welcomed the burn.
“So tell me something,” she said, an edge in her voice now. Her arms crossed over her breasts in a defensive stance. “What he said about you sleeping with married women. Is that true?”
“Yes,” he said flatly. “Not this year, but prior to it, yes.”
Her eyes rounded, and even in the shadows of moonlight, he could see the color drain from her face. “That’s . . . unfortunate.”
“They propositioned me. I’m not the one who was married.” He knew how callous that sounded, and the look of condemnation in her eyes struck him like a physical blow.
She stared at him, searching. Tension fell over them, heavy and thick and suffocating. “Did you purposely seek out married women?”
“No. But if they hit on me, I didn’t turn them away for that.” He returned her gaze, his stomach churning. “Here’s the truth about who I was before: It was easier to sleep with married women. It was safe. Because it couldn’t go anywhere. They had no expectations from me, except the attention and the sex. They got to live out their fantasy of fucking a football star, then went home to their boring husbands and their safe lives. And left me alone.” He scrubbed his free hand over his jaw. “And in some ways, that was better than being with the young, single women, because they wanted things from me. Expected them. Even when I made it clear I had no interest in giving those things. That I was incapable.”
Abby blinked and took a step back, the horror clear on her face. It made him cringe inside, but he said, “Isn’t that what you wanted to hear, Abby? The truth? Well, that’s the truth. That’s what kind of scumbag manwhore I was. I told you I wouldn’t lie to you. So I figure if you’re going to judge me, as you obviously are, you should
at least have the facts.”
“You’re upset with me? And accusing me of judging you?” Abby retorted. “You’re being a total asshole right now, that’s what I’m judging you for. Your past is your past. I wasn’t there. I don’t really care about that.”
“Bullshit.” He pushed off the railing, sending the amber liquid in his glass sloshing over the rim. He stared down at her, intensely and directly into her eyes. “Look right at me and tell me you’re not disgusted that I dated married women and didn’t give a shit.”
She blinked. “I’m . . . trying not to be.”
“But you are. Don’t lie. You hate liars, right?” he pressed. Shut the fuck up, man! But he couldn’t stop. He was spinning out of control now and he knew it, but couldn’t seem to find the brakes. “I’m not a liar, but I’m an asshole. I’m a man without morals if I could do that. You think of me differently now, right? Maybe you should.”
She gaped at him, her arms tightening around herself. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because it’s who I am, Abby. This whole fucked-up family. I’m part of it, whether I like it or not. If you’re in my life, you’ll have to deal with all of that. The skeletons of my past, the demons in my present.” He peered down at her. “You really want to? You sure?”
“Right at this moment?” she asked, her voice quavering. “No, I don’t. I’m ready to call it quits right now. But I think that’s what you’re going for here, isn’t it? Trying to push me away? Getting me to dump you so you don’t have to worry about what I think of you?”
He paused. Christ, she saw right through him. She knew he was trying to push her away. And she was still standing there. Which meant he wasn’t doing it hard enough. “I didn’t sleep with Victoria Huntsman,” he said. “You said you believed me.”
“I did. I do.” A chilly breeze blew across the terrace, and she rubbed her bare arms for warmth.