TROUBLE 2

by Kristina Weaver

  “I-I’m sorry,” I moan around a giggle. “Do you realize you and I are pathetic? Here we are trying to save ourselves, when the people we love couldn’t give a rat’s ass!”

  It’s horrible but true. Lena is great, and if I didn’t feel so shitty about my mistresshood with her fiancé I could so be friends with her. But she’s doing exactly the same thing to Taylor that I allowed Gregory to do to me. Maybe I should just accept it and call myself lucky. Maybe Tay should too, and we should…what?

  Console each other until such a time that we fall in love and get married and have two point five kids and move to the burbs?

  The thought is ridiculous, and it sets me off again.

  “I never thought I’d see someone more pathetically and hopelessly in love than I am. And you want to know the worst part, Tay? I don’t even think they care. We’re all broken, and they’re planning their goddamned wedding!”

  Ah, and there it is, the anger I’d been searching for.

  “Uh, not as of last night,” he says, and I stop laughing to look at him questioningly. “Lena was there, Han, she heard and saw everything. The whole room heard and saw everything. Haven’t you read the papers?”

  “Papers?”

  He runs a hand through his hair and looks at me pityingly.

  “They announced their split up last night. The wedding is officially off. I suppose I have you to thank for that,” he says ruefully. “And you’re wrong about Lena. She’s been trying to get out of the engagement for a while now, but her parents wouldn’t let her.”

  Huh. So Selena and Taylor were getting their happy ending. I’m a little miffed about that. It seems I’m the only pathetic loser at the table, and a pity party for one is so not my style. I guess I can always clean the toilet again.

  “You and her…”

  “We were together last year before any of this happened. I made a mistake, a big mistake, and she walked out on me. By the time I came to my senses, she wouldn’t even answer my calls, and then they announced the engagement.”

  “Now?”

  I ask because I want to torture myself with somebody else’s happy ending, and maybe because knowing that something good has come from this mess makes me feel better.

  “She came over last night and we got to talking. She felt so guilty about what happened with you and Lucas she kept calling you.”

  Huh again. It’s weird to feel flattered that the woman who should despise me most wanted to offer me comfort. Weirder to know disappointment that the man who’d caused it all had foregone his nightly call and I’d cried myself to sleep because of it.

  “I’m so glad for you, Tay. You know I love you.”

  “Well, this is interesting. The mistress becoming the cuckold.”

  That voice, Jesus, when am I not going to get a thrill from hearing that voice? I wonder, turning to see Gregory glaring down at us from the sidewalk.

  “Lucas. Don’t—”

  “Has he told you that he and Lena are together, that she broke off our engagement to run into his waiting arms the minute we were over? Are you willing to be the other woman again?” he snarls, and I see the way he’s looking at our still linked hands.

  “Gregory, stop,” I hiss, feeling eyes on us.

  This is all I need, another scene to go with the one I made last night, though to be fair maybe he’s due a scene. I’d run away, after all, while he’d had to stand there and face Selena and a roomful of people.

  “Why? I’ve been made a laughingstock in the presence of not only peers, but the elite of New York. I’ve had reporters calling since the news broke, and I’ve had my family and Lena’s on my ass all morning. I think I deserve a chance to have my say.”

  Yes, probably he does, but I don’t want to do this here, where everyone can listen and have the chance to villainize me more than I already have been. When I head home I’m so getting a paper. And then maybe moving to Alaska.

  “You’re right. But can we maybe go somewhere less public?”

  I’m pleading with a man who no doubt hates me, but I don’t care. I’m just happy to see him and not be alone in my misery.

  “Hannah, you should go home,” Taylor says, looking between us with an anger I haven’t seen him display. “This asshole is only going to want his pound of flesh.”

  “Flesh that belongs to me,” Gregory growls, daring me to deny it.

  I can’t, even though I want to. I have and probably always will belong to Gregory Lucas, and all it’s taken for me to finally admit it to myself is the idea that he’s no longer taken, that maybe, somehow, I can have him. If only for a while.

  “Jesus—”

  “Go home, Barret. You are no longer needed. Or wanted.”

  “I’m not leaving Ha—”

  “If you value your place in Lena’s life, and as a soon to be member of the family, you will take the out I’m giving you and be satisfied. Old man Jeffries isn’t too happy with you or Lena at the moment. One word from me and your future isn’t worth shit.”

  My heart skips a beat, and I fight a smirk. There it is, that famous Gregory charm. He uses blackmail like a marksman. He always hits his target.

  “Taylor, go,” I say quietly, reading the indecision on his face.

  I neither want nor need him protecting me from Gregory. I’m already beat, and I know it, so dragging him into this isn’t worth it, and I’d like for him to have that happy ending I’m never going to have.

  “Hannah.”

  “Go, Tay. Gregory and I have to talk, and I can’t do that with the two of you tearing chunks out of each other. Go. It’s Saturday. Go take your girlfriend for a ride and romance the hell out of her.”

  He leaves, not happily though, and I find myself looking back at Gregory with a sense of resignation and no small amount of anticipation.

  “Where do you want to do this?” I ask, rising to my feet as he steps back and holds out a hand.

  “Were it all started.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I’m not surprised when I see the road we’re on and know that we’re headed for his house. He’d said we were going back to the beginning, and I suppose he’s right when he says this is it.

  It’s where I first surrendered myself to him. Where he showed me his true colors, and the one place I know I will always see as a home, even knowing it will never be mine.

  “Greg—”

  “Not yet. We’ll talk when we get there,” he snarls, and I flinch slightly when I see just how angry he is.

  He’s usually so calm and collected that I know if he’s showing his anger his control is shot, and what I’m about to get is a whole lot of pissed off, aggressive male.

  I’m not frightened, not even a little, because his temper tells me he’s not as unaffected by me as I’d always feared. Anger is a lot better than cold indifference, and after everything, that’s exactly what I expected from him.

  He hits the gate remote and speeds up the drive, coming to a stop of swirling gravel and harsh breaths.

  I chance a peek at him from beneath my lashes and gasp, seeing the uncontrolled lust and fury he’s set free. I’m in his arms and being kissed savagely in the next breath, his mouth crushing down so brutally I feel my teeth cut into my lips.

  I revel in it, kissing him back just as greedily, shoving my tongue into his mouth to lick at him with a desperation that has my arousal skyrocketing in a matter of seconds.

  I’ve been so empty and barren without him, and I’m wild to feel his possession. Just one more time before I go back to my life of heartbreak and solitude.

  He snarls into my mouth and shoves me away forcefully, my back hitting the door with a thwack as he snarls and bares his teeth.

  “Get inside before I fuck you in the car.”

  My legs shake all the way to the door, and I’m a breath away from crying when he flips me over his shoulder and carries me into the living room to toss me onto the sofa.

  “Greg.”

  “Shut your mouth, Hannah.” />
  I press my lips together to stop their trembling and lie there, waiting for whatever it is he wants. Whatever punishment he’s preparing to mete out.

  He paces for a few minutes before finally gaining enough control that the expressionless mask is back in place. I practically feel his scorn when our eyes lock and he drags them down my body before coming back up.

  “Take your clothes off.”

  The order startles me. The passion I’d felt in the car has cooled now, not enough to stop me but enough to make me hesitate at the hostility I see. If I give in, I know there will be no coming back from this.

  He’s angry and wants revenge, and the only way to give it to him is to give him the one thing I have left. The one piece of my heart that isn’t already dead.

  My fingers go to the hem of my shirt and I tug it up and over my head, dropping it the floor. My jeans are next, and I hesitate when I am down to my underwear, my hands trembling madly.

  “Do it.”

  He’s so cold I feel a shiver race the length of my spine. My bra falls, and I drop my panties too, baring myself in a gesture I know he won’t mistake.

  He smiles, his teeth flashing white for a brief second before he picks me up and takes the stairs.

  “Greg.”

  “Shut up.”

  When he lowers me to the bed I feel my skin heat, and he smiles knowingly.

  “You’re mine now, Hannah Newman.”

  What he does to me in the hours preceding dawn is something I will never forget as long as I live.

  He worships me, tortures me, and has me begging, pleading my surrender so violently my voice is raw and sobbing. When he finally gives me the release I crave and takes his own deep within me, I am nothing more than a shell, a ghost.

  I belong to him. I always have, and I always will, and now that he’s proven it I don’t know how I’ll survive if this is the last of us.

  I fall asleep, weeping silently as he wraps himself around me, the pillow beneath my head drenched in the tears I’ve been keeping inside for weeks.

  Chapter Twelve

  “No!”

  After that soul-shattering night he drops me off at my apartment and tells me he’ll be waiting for me to return to work. I have exactly two weeks to work out my notice for Doctor Petros, and then I will be back at my old job, working not for another ad exec but for Gregory himself.

  It’s all part of his plan to keep me close enough that he controls every move I make. I know it. I hate it, but it’s the price I’ve chosen to pay to have him.

  “Chris, please try to understand,” I beg as we sit on the sofa, watching Nana braise lamb and potatoes at the tiny stove.

  We’ve been arguing for a solid hour, and she’s so mad at me it’s a wonder she hasn’t stormed out and told me to go to hell.

  “He ruined you! He turned you into a fucking zombie, and you want me to be okay that he’s back in your life? Jesus, Hannah, when is enough enough with this guy?”

  Never. I don’t think I’ll ever have enough, and that’s scarier than anything I’ve ever known. But I can’t let this be over. I love him, I need him, and I know if I work at him for long enough he’ll have to love me back.

  I’ve spent half my life being good and doing what’s right. The last three years have had been me ghosting my way to a sad and lonely future that holds an apartment clean enough to eat off the floors and a job that’s about as satisfying as a toothache.

  I want more.

  “I broke up with him,” I point out in a whisper, silently begging her not to upset Nana where she toddles around in the kitchen.

  “Because he’s a dick. He’s only using you, Han, and he’ll break your heart if you let him,” she whispers back.

  This upsets her more than I could have guessed, and I know that my recent behavior isn’t shining a good light on it. I don’t tell her that it’s impossible for him to break something that’s already broken and cremated, because she’ll go nuts, so I hold it back and inject a firm tone into my voice.

  “I’m going back to the company tomorrow, and we’re back together for as long as we can stand to be together. I…I love him, Chris.”

  “Christ. You’re a real idiot.”

  “I know.”

  She stands and wanders over to the small island separating the kitchen from the living room, and I know that the argument is over. She’s not happy, but she’ll let it go. For now.

  “Oh dear, are you sure your young man won’t be over for dinner? This roast is too big for three women.”

  “No, Nana. He’s away on business.”

  It’s a total lie. He refuses to see me in any social setting apart from picking me up and driving to his house for two or three hours of sex. When we’re done, he takes me home, and that’s that.

  We have no ‘relationship,’ just an agreement to share our bodies, and that’s all he’ll concede for now.

  “That’s a shame, dear. Now, the lamb is in the oven for the next two hours. I think I’ll take a nap while it’s cooking. Wake me when the timer goes off.”

  I nod and grin at her, amazed that a woman her age can still remember how to braise a lamb when just yesterday she’d called me Amber and laid into me for being a mooch.

  I smirk when Chris ruffles my hair and wanders out, to return later for promised feast.

  *************************************

  “Nana! Wakey wakey, sleepy head,” I yell form the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the lamb.

  “I’ll go get her,” Chris laughs. “She’s so ornery lately I don’t know how you get through the day.”

  I snort and level the spatula at her, laughing too because we both know I’m half-crazy from it.

  “Make sure she hasn’t crawled out of the window, and hurry up. Cold lamb tastes icky.”

  Chris leaves, calling down the hall, and I listen, expecting a crotchety reply to the teasing. When I hear nothing, I figure they’re plotting against me again and make my way to them, chuckling to myself and making plans to torture them with broccoli tomorrow night.

  “Hannah! Call an ambulance!”

  I’m running before I know it, and when I get to Nana’s room it’s to the sight of Chris leaning over her, her frantic movements and chest pumps telling me that she’s performing CPR.

  “Chris…”

  “Call a goddamned ambulance, Hannah! I think she’s had a heart attack!”

  The rest of it’s a blur as I race down the hall and grab the phone. All I remember later, when we’re huddled in the hospital waiting area, is the paramedics shoving me and Chris out of the way and the argument we’d faced to catch a ride to the hospital.

  It’s been hours, and I’m cold and hungry and so terrified I’ve dug half-moons into Chris’s hand. When another hour passes with no word, I go into a trance, seeing and hearing nothing as I frantically keep praying that she’ll be all right, that while I’d cooked goddamned lamb in the kitchen she hadn’t died.

  I don’t remember a pulse or breathing sounds. Just her cold, gray skin and the expressionless mask on her face.

  I feel arms come around me and I lean in, needing so much more than this but grateful to Chris all the same.

  “I don’t think she made it, Chris,” I say through stiff lips that threaten to tremble. “They would have said something by now. Oh God, why haven’t we heard anything?”

  The uncertainty and terror is choking me, and it takes everything not to collapse in a heap of sobbing misery. All I can think is that she’ll never shove bread rolls in her panties again, and I’d just stocked up.

  I can’t even begin to imagine how I’ll live without naked Thursdays, either, which is awful because the neighbors are threatening to get us evicted.

  “Shhh, darlin’, she’ll be just fine. You just take a deep breath and calm down.”

  I nod, not yet registering that the arms and the voice, the solid heat surrounding me and keeping me up, do not belong to my best friend. When I do though, I can honestly sa
y I am floored.

  “Greg? W-what…how?” I stammer, seeing him through a sheen of tears as profound relief hits me. “She…she…”

  I can’t finish as a doctor stops in front of me, looking grim.

  “Miss Newman, I’m Doctor Jonas. I’m sorry for the wait, but I wanted to be sure she was out of the woods before speaking with you.”

  I rise to shaky feet, grateful for the strong arms that keep me close and hold me up. If not for this I would likely be a wrecked puddle on the floor.

  “She’s okay?”

  I feel tears streaming down my face and ignore them, almost sobbing my relief when he nods.

  “She had a mild heart attack, but at her age it is usually fatal. You got to her just in time. We’ve stabilised her, and we’re keeping her sedated until her pressure comes down. Her levels are looking much better, though, so I don’t see any need to worry at this point.”

  “She’s okay then? She won’t die or anything?”

  “She’s a tough old bird. With proper rest and medication she should make a full recovery, although I will stress that she will need a calm, stress-free environment. And day care.”

  Day care? I’ll quit my job and do whatever needs doing as long as she’s okay.

  “Thank you, Doctor. When can we see her?” Gregory asks.

  “You can see her for a few minutes now, and then tomorrow morning during visiting hours.”

  I nod and allow myself to be pulled along, snapping out of my daze enough to realize that Chris is flanking me on the other side, and for once mute about Gregory’s presence.

  I’m totally exhausted and so grateful to see her breathing and alive I burst into tears when we near her bed. Those strong arms pull me into a solid chest, and I feel his hands soothing me.

  “Let’s get you home, darlin’. You’re done in.”

  I am, but with him here I feel more than better, and I nod tiredly as he takes my hand and leads me away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Hannah, wake up.”

  I feel a hand ghost over my cheek and open my eyes, stretching languidly. Gregory is leaning over me, and it takes me a minute to realize he’s holding a breakfast tray.