by Helena Ray
“Mother needs me at the house now.” His voice sounded like it was coming from the door. “I’ll be gone for three days. When I come back, you can tell me how you feel about me then.” A dark noise rumbled from him. Robin assumed it was an attempt at a laugh. “Don’t try going to Alexander or that horrid, uneducated Bryant. I’ve changed the lock, sweetheart, and I’ve informed Alexander I’ll be at a conference for the next week. You’re going nowhere.”
The door slammed, and any semblance of relief left Robin. Three days. He was planning on leaving her there. For three days. Three days! No food or water, nothing at all. Just silence and heat. She doubted she’d live, and if she did live, the trauma would certainly transform her life into a mere shadow of its former self. The tears began anew, and her convulsive sobbing sent her rolling to the side.
Wait, she thought to herself. That’s it. Rolling. She began a tentative roll toward the center of the room. It hurt, sending shooting pain to her wrists and ankles and accidentally stuffing the wad of tissue farther down her throat, but it worked. She remembered the contents of her bag flying across the room. If only she could find her phone, then she could have some way of alerting someone of what had happened. She began her journey of inching around the room in an attempt to find a line out.
Suddenly, a banging sounded on the door of the portable building.
“Robin!”
Chapter 14
Alexander woke that morning with no one in bed with him but a snoring, drooling Bryant, and while he loved Bryant like a brother, he had no place in Alexander’s bed without Robin. He had given him a playful shove that sent him flying through the crimson canopy and muttering some quite colorful curses.
Never a morning person, Alexander stumbled out of his bed, telling Bryant with a deathly stare that he was to vacate his room that instant. He couldn’t return to the dark mood that had consumed him for years, though, as he spied a note on his bed stand. He knew who must have composed the note. Robin. He hurriedly scanned the note. It said she would be back by noon for a famous Abrams kitchen lunch. The clock indicated that he and Bryant had slept in well past noon.
“Bry, you clod.” He laughed as he yelled the joking insult into the hallway. “Lunch with Robin, okay?”
Yawning, Bryant reentered the room. “Thought you wanted me outta here.” He stretched and took the note from Alexander’s hand. “So you’re telling me our lady wants lunch with us?”
“Just make yourself presentable and come downstairs when you look like less of a slob.”
“How kind of you, good sir.” Bryant’s voice was a mocking impersonation of the stereotypical Southern belle.
Alexander left Bryant to his task, dressed, and went downstairs, only to find Robin missing. When he realized that none of the house staff had seen her since she left early that morning, he knew something was amiss. He tried to call her cell, but she didn’t pick up or answer his text message. That just wasn’t like her at all. Since their involvement had turned romantic, Alexander had been particularly protective of her and her whereabouts. He ran up the grand staircase, his smoking jacket billowing behind him.
“Bry! Bry! This is serious!” He ran toward his room hollering, but Bryant met him halfway down the hallway.
“It’s Robin.”
With that, both Alexander and Bryant took off at a dead run toward the portable building that housed the archives.
Bryant arrived first then hopped off his mount and banged on the door. Alexander took stock of the situation. The archive appeared completely closed up, unusual for midday. He remembered that Melvin had informed him that he would be out of town, but Robin would still be working. It wasn’t like her to abdicate professional obligations.
Melvin. Of course! It made so much sense that Alexander was shocked he hadn’t figured it out sooner. He leaped off his horse and joined Bryant in banging. As owner of the estate, Alexander had no qualms about lifting one of his muscular legs and kicking the door in.
“She’s in here,” Bryant said, gesturing to the corner of the small archive. Alexander joined Bryant, and the sight he saw hurt him in a way he hadn’t felt since his mother’s passing.
Robin was in the middle of the floor, gagged with a wad of tissues, and cheap rope tied around her wrists and ankles. Dried tears stained her cheeks, but all Alexander could see on her face now was anger.
Bryant knelt down beside her and proceeded to remove the tissues from her mouth. After coughing and sputtering for a few seconds, Robin grew indignant at their intrusion.
“Fuck you guys,” she shouted. “I could have gotten out of this on my own. Look.” She gestured pathetically with her head toward a phone about four feet away from her. “I was gonna get it and call for help. I had it handled.” Her tone had decreased in volume, but the venom there was unmistakable. She sighed in apparent exasperation and tilted her head backward. “Just untie me and let’s get out of here.”
Alexander watched numbly as Bryant obeyed her command. His heart squeezed in his chest, but he chose to ignore it. Robin’s reaction seemed completely out of proportion to him. He had watched his mother suffer and how it affected his fathers, and doubt suddenly settled over him. Was this worth it?
Without saying a word to either Bryant or Robin, he turned and exited the portable building. He looked up to see that black clouds had darkened the humid day, signaling the impending arrival of a Texas-sized thunderstorm. He mounted his horse with ease and turned her back to the stables.
A peel of thunder sounded, and the horse reared. Alexander hung on easily. With that, the horse took off toward the stable carrying Alexander away from the pain and away from Robin.
* * * *
A mixture of emotions broiled in Bryant’s chest. First, relief. He and Alexander had rescued their Robin, and she was fine. Shaken up, certainly, but the only physical evidence of the attack were the bruises encircling her wrists and ankles, and those might have been there anyway, Bryant thought wickedly.
However, anger eclipsed his relief. Anger at Melvin, anger at Robin, anger at Alexander. Why the fuck did Melvin want to hurt the sweet, delicate woman? Because she rejected his advances? With the way he looked and acted, that couldn’t have come as a shock to Melvin. But why the fuck did Robin allow herself to be in a position to be kidnapped? Robin’s stubborn and headstrong ways made Bryant fall in love with her, but he hadn’t bargained on them threatening her life.
He huffed as he paced angrily back and forth down the aisle of the stables. Robin was in quite a state of anger, claiming that she had the situation handled. Anger grew in his chest and strangled his heart. Seeing her bound on the ground like that activated every protective instinct he had. She shouted the story at them, frustration and fury obvious in her voice, and it only heightened his need to protect her, to shield her from all the horrible things in the world. Her dismissal of their help set his usually mild temper on fire.
He could only imagine how Alexander felt.
Everything was perfect yesterday. He and Al finally had Robin the way they wanted her, and Robin was obviously falling hard for both of them. But today? That damn excuse for a librarian, or archivist, or whatever the fuck he wanted to call himself, made everything Bryant had worked for go to shit.
Another emotion tugged at the edges of Bryant’s consciousness, and he couldn’t well ignore it for too much longer. Relief, but of a different sort.
He observed Robin and Alexander’s stand off as they ran after him into the stables, wet from the soft rain falling outside. Both had their arms crossed tightly across their chests and their eyes firmly averted. Bryant sighed and rubbed his temples as he shook his head. A relationship with these two stubborn people could not end up well. In order for this to work, Bryant needed Alexander to open up completely to Robin again and let her see that side of his personality he so often kept hidden. And he needed Robin to emerge out of her shell like she did when she and Alexander met at the Lasso.
Maybe this was for the best. Even t
hough it put Bryant in physical pain to admit it to himself, he had to acknowledge that something wasn’t working. At least not yet.
Bryant stopped his pacing in front of the door to his apartment and turned to address his two obstinate companions. “Look, the two of you can keep huffing and puffing, but if we’re not gonna talk about this, I’m gonna do some paperwork.” He placed his hand on the doorknob and looked between the two of them. “Let me know if you decide anything.” His hand began turning the doorknob.
“Wait.” Robin’s interjection stilled his hand, but he didn’t turn to her. “Bryant, please,” she continued. “Please listen to me.” Her voice quavered, and Bryant instinctively turned and crossed to her, sensing her oncoming tears. “I can’t do this…this…thing anymore.”
Although they echoed his own thoughts, Robin’s words cut like a dagger through his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, relishing the sensation of her delicate, shaking body against his. He felt a wet spot form where her face was pressed against his chest.
“Bry.” He looked up at Alexander’s voice. Alexander had crossed to Robin and ran his hand through her chocolate locks. “She’s right. This isn’t working.” He recognized the hard look in Alexander’s face. It was the same look he’d worn so many times after scaring girls away from the estate in France.
Robin hiccupped in Bryant’s arms and backed out of his embrace. He reluctantly released her. “I have to go,” she whispered. “With the archive mostly completed, I won’t have to be here much longer.” Her eyes searched Bryant’s, obviously anxious for a reaction to her declaration.
“Your car,” was all Bryant could manage.
“Shit!” Alexander exclaimed and kicked at the door to one of the empty stables, and it flew open. The noise heightened the silence that followed. The soft rain then increased into a downpour, pummeling the metal roof of the building.
“Look, I can drive you back downtown, or—”
“No.” Robin wore the same determined, hard look as Alexander. “Please don’t try to help me.” The quaver returned to her voice, making it difficult to understand over the din. “I can figure out what to do now on my own.”
Bryant longed to reach out and hold Robin, but her earlier withdrawal told him she wouldn’t appreciate his advances. Tears streamed down Robin’s cheeks, and she nodded in the direction of Bryant’s room. “I’m okay. You can leave me alone now.”
Bryant stepped toward her, but she only turned from him. With great effort, he disappeared into his apartment. Before he could sit down, shouts outside drew him back to the main aisle of the stables.
“I told you. I can take care of myself!” Bryant peered out his door at Robin’s exclamation.
“Fine. Don’t take my charity, then.” Alexander loomed over her, and Bryant knew his physically threatening Robin couldn’t help the situation.
“I. Don’t. Need. Charity.” Robin’s brown eyes had turned black.
Alexander set his eyes in a glare and opened his mouth, as if to utter one of those trademark haughty insults. Bryant inwardly prayed he wouldn’t pull that shit. Not now.
With strength he hadn’t imagined Robin possessed, she pushed Alexander away from her and stormed to where Bryant stood. “I told you. I’m fine. Let me go.” The anger and stress had reduced Robin’s voice to a choked whisper. “Now.”
About to walk out into the rain, she turned back to them. Alexander started toward her, his arms open to her. “Robin, please. Let us explain.”
She pointed her hardened stare at both of them, and her pale skin starkly contrasted with the cloud-darkened landscape behind her.
“Please,” she begged. “Just leave me alone.”
With that, Robin turned into the grey abyss outside and set off at a run toward the main house.
“Fuck you, Clare.” Alexander’s voice snapped Bryant’s attention back to the stables.
“What, man?” Bryant wasn’t in the mood to fight with Al, but he couldn’t contain his outrage. “What? Robin and I had something, you know that. You saw us at the poker game, I know that. Why did you have to ruin everything?”
“Me? I ruined everything?” Alexander approached Bryant and pressed a finger against his chest. “Oh, no, I believe you were the one who ruined everything. Robin came here to study my house. With or without you, we would have been fucking. But with you, it had to be more, didn’t it?” A rare vulnerability flashed across Alexander’s face, but he quickly schooled his features back into the hard glare he had perfected. “You knew how much pain I was in, but you pressed the issue, Clare. Make no mistake. This is all your doing.”
Alexander stepped back, and for a long moment, they said nothing. The rain had reduced to a gentle sprinkling.
“I’ll e-mail you the files about the new clients,” Alexander said. His switch to business was clearly a self-preserving move. He turned and followed Robin’s path, although Bryant was certain he would not go looking for her.
With an exhausted sigh, Bryant reentered the open door of his apartment and slammed it shut behind him. He always tried to be optimistic, but he could see no clear way out of this predicament. There was no way for him to be with Robin.
Chapter 15
Robin’s fingernails dug into the skin on her upper arms as the rain started pounding again on the glass and iron awning above her. She hopped from foot to foot as she stared down the winding drive to the Abrams mansion, willing her rescue to come faster. She saw the reflection of red and blue flashing lights on the pavement. The police had taken her statement about the entire incident, but they couldn’t offer her any real solace. Robin had to fend for herself.
Finally, a black Bentley Mulsanne came into sight, and Robin clutched her bag to her soaked chest, anxious to run into the car’s interior. Despite the temperatures still hovering above one hundred degrees, Robin shivered. Running through the rain had drenched every part of her being, and all she wanted was somewhere warm and dry to return to normal.
The car finally came to a stop in front of Robin, and she scurried to the door. She flung it open and dove in, feeling a twinge of guilt upon dripping onto the rich leather and wood interior. However, the car’s driver didn’t seem to mind.
Heedless of Robin’s aqueous state, Gillian threw her arms around Robin and held her head to her chest. “Oh, cutie, thank you so much for calling me. Bry texted me about what that louse Melvin did, and I was so worried.”
The tears Robin held back flooded her eyes, and she sobbed against Gillian’s chest. “I–I–I’m so sorry.” Her heart throbbed in her chest, overwhelmed by everything that happened that day. “I-I can’t go back to my apartment alone, and I don’t think I can go back to Bry and Alexan—”
“Shh,” Gillian said, leaning down over Robin, her long, wavy locks spilling against the back of Robin’s neck. “I don’t give two shits about those silly boys. Really, I don’t.”
Robin withdrew from Gillian’s embrace, reassured by her words, but Gillian kept a grip on both of Robin’s hands.
“You know I want you to be my sister,” Gillian continued. “But more than that, I want you to be safe and happy, and I want you to be my friend. You can always stay with me when we’re in Male Order, Miss Robin. You know that.”
Robin smiled through the fresh wave of tears that poured down her cheeks at Gillian’s kindness. “Thanks, because I was gonna ask—”
“You don’t even have to. I’ll get the guest suite all ready for you, dear.”
The darkened world outside flashed past Robin’s eyes as Gillian pulled away from the mansion and consulted with one of her husbands on the phone. The events of the day weighed on Robin’s mind. Work had sounded like such a nice reprieve that morning from the welcome turmoil Alexander and Bryant brought into her life. And then what Melvin did... She shook her head. She couldn’t dwell on it. Not yet. She couldn’t dwell on the implications of the event, either. Her head felt heavy at the thought that she would never be with Bryant or Alexander again. Bryant, she c
ould see. But after Alexander nearly assaulted her... No. It couldn’t be.
By the time they reached the Sumners’ townhouse in downtown Male Order, Robin had cried as much as she could for the day. Numbness overtook her as Gillian helped her out of the car. While the building’s neoclassical design would normally have fascinated her, Robin kept her head down and leaned against Gillian’s shoulder as they ascended the steps into the thankfully warm glow of the entranceway.
Two identical handsome men with barely graying strawberry blond hair ran to meet them. They each wrapped an arm around Gillian and kissed her in turn. The normally forceful Gillian seemed demure and coy around these two men who very clearly worshipped her. The swelling lump in Robin’s throat forced her to turn away. Memories of two men giving her such affection clawed at her heart.
Gillian’s arm around her shoulders brought her back to reality, and for the first time, Robin looked around. Although the home was nowhere near the scale or decadence of the Abrams mansion, it was still impressive. A gold and crystal chandelier cast a pale orange light on the white marble floors and gold accents that decorated the foyer. A staircase spiraled out of sight to Robin’s right, and she assumed it led to similarly luxurious rooms.
“Boys,” Gillian said, “this is my new friend, Robin. She’ll be staying with us for a spell.” She cast a warning look at her husbands. “Y’all aren’t going to object, are you?”
They shook their heads and laughed at their wife. One man took a step forward and grasped one of Robin’s hands in both of his. “Eric Sumner, it’s so nice to meet you. Gilly won’t stop tittering away about her new girlfriend.” His smile was warm, and Robin could instantly see how Gillian would fall for these men.
The second man pulled Robin into an embrace. “I’m Matthew,” he said when he released her. “I’ve heard so much about you from our Gilly and Br—” He halted, and Robin glanced at where Gillian was standing. She glared at him, daggers in her eyes. Matthew cleared his throat. “Well, it’s great to put a face to the name,” he said, squeezing Robin’s arm.