by Shayla Black
“It’s good to see you. I came to Bezakistan, in part, to talk to you. But first, I want you to know that I won’t give Tori any trouble. I’m already packed. I’ll leave quietly this afternoon.” He would go back to London and try to figure out what to do with the rest of his life.
“I thought you might say that. Talib really doesn’t want to send you away, you know.”
“No, but Tori does and she has the right to feel comfortable.” Most women didn’t have the luxury of spending the night with three men only to forcibly ship them out of the country the next morning.
“Tori is making a dreadful mistake. Tal feels guilty that he wasn’t able to keep her mishap out of the papers. Did you read them? They were particularly nasty.”
He’d only really needed to see the headlines to know how devastated Tori must be. It was proof that she wasn’t ready to handle the gossip of being with three men, even if they would have stood by her until the end of time. Clearly, she’d never wanted them much. “They’re always nasty.”
“Something I’ve observed over the years… Women don’t react like men. Most men would get angry, even downright furious, about something like that. Then they’d shrug and move on, do something more active. Women aren’t quite as able to compartmentalize. Tori feels like a laughingstock. I understand. I had to deal with lies the press told about me, too. I think women, especially ones with tender hearts, can really let something like that drag them under.” She stepped up to the balcony. “I jumped from here, you know.”
He could barely make himself step outside. He wasn’t afraid of heights, but he was afraid of being seen. The last thing Tori needed was to have any quiet walk in the garden she might be taking disrupted by the sight of him. So he stayed just inside the French doors. “I was told. I didn’t see it.”
“You were busy dying, Oliver.”
Yes, he’d been on the floor, his lifeblood draining away while Alea had fought for her life. From what he understood, Yasmin had chased her out to the balcony, and Alea had been forced to choose between taking a bullet or hoping Landon Nix would catch her. “I’m sorry you had to jump.”
And during all that, Oliver had been useless, a mass of pathetic humanity lying on the floor.
“I’m happy I had the chance to. If you hadn’t fought as hard as you did, I wouldn’t have.”
“What are you talking about?” There’d been no fight. He’d taken a bullet and he’d gone down.
She turned to him quizzically, eyes wide for a silent moment. “You don’t remember?”
“Of course I remember.” How could he ever forget that day? It was ingrained on his memory, every horrible moment of it. “She shot me. I fell. I didn’t get back up.”
“Oliver, she shot you more than once,” Alea said quietly.
He knew that. He felt the scars every day. “Yes, my wife tried to be thorough. I went down and she kept shooting.”
“No.” Alea hurried back into the room and put her hand in his as she led him to the couch. “I can’t believe you don’t remember what really happened. I mean, the event was traumatic, so it stands to reason. I just assumed you knew the truth so I never told you.”
He sat beside her, feeling so much older than his thirty-one years. They’d never talked because he hadn’t wanted to. He’d never wanted to trek down this memory lane again and remember what a mess he’d made of things by being weak. “There’s nothing to tell. The scars prove everything.”
She leaned forward, her midnight eyes steady on him. “Scars are what you make them, Oliver. They’re reminders of the things that happened to us, but yours are lying to you. I was there, and I didn’t have a bullet in me so I remember everything with perfect clarity. Yasmin walked in, called me a bitch whore—I don’t know where she got that mouth—and shot you. She then talked for a really long time. Do you not remember that? She told me everything. In fact, she couldn’t wait to tell me she’d been behind all of it.”
Sometimes in his dreams, Yasmin kept talking while the pain in his gut had him praying for death just to put a stop to her incessant chatter. “She loved the sound of her own voice. I learned to tune her out or go mad.”
Alea leaned forward. “The whole time she was talking about what she’d done, you were getting up. I kept her attention on me because I didn’t want her to see that you still had so much strength.”
He didn’t remember that at all. He shook his head because her words didn’t make any sense. “I was on the floor over there.”
He pointed to a spot on the other side of the room.
“That’s where you ended up, but that’s not where you fell. You fell ten feet that way.” She nodded to a place in front of the sofa. “If you look at the crime scene photos, you’ll see a large pool of blood there. It’s yours. I’m sure Tal has them buried somewhere in the records. She shot you the first time right there. You went down, but you didn’t stay there.”
He stared at the spot, reality shifting deep inside him. The scenario Alea described didn’t match his memories. He remembered being weak and helpless and soft. He hadn’t fought. He’d just lain there and waited to die like some hapless prey. “How did I end up on the opposite side of the room?”
Alea took his hand in hers. “You ended up there because you got to your feet and you attacked her. She was busy threatening me. It would have been easy for you to get to the door. At that point, you only had one bullet in your body. That wound wasn’t life-threatening. The second shot was. You could have left me and saved yourself, but you didn’t. You got to your feet, told her she wasn’t getting away with it, and you wrapped your hands around her throat.”
Her words sparked some memory in the haze of that day. Some little whisper that told him Alea was telling him the truth he’d forgotten in the thickness of shock and pain.
I disagree, bitch.
That day was beginning to come back to him. “She said she wasn’t going down for your abduction or my death. She intended to blame everything on you and me.”
She said those things and he’d replied with I disagree, bitch. He remembered his mouth making the words. He’d had to force them from his throat.
Alea nodded excitedly. “Yes. She did and I tried to keep her attention on me so you could make your move.”
“You didn’t think I would run?”
“I knew you wouldn’t. The minute I saw you forcing yourself up, I knew you would fight her. And you did. You’re the reason I made it to the balcony. You’re the reason I’m alive today, Oliver.” There was a sheen of tears in her eyes. “I know you came here, at least in part, because you had some misguided notion that you should apologize to me. There’s no need, but there is something left unsaid between us. Thank you. Thank you for being as strong as you were. Thank you for fighting.”
Memories like flashes of lightning sparked through him as more of the terrible incident came back to him. He stood suddenly because the world blurred. Shock steamrolled him. “Thank you for coming. I need to be alone for a bit.”
He knew he was being terribly rude, but he couldn’t help it. A dam was about to open, and he couldn’t contain it another second.
As she hurried to leave, he shut the door between the parlor and the bedroom. It seemed like forever before he reached the bathroom. He locked himself in and fell to the floor, cool marble beneath his hands.
He’d been wrong. For the last several years, he had been about deriding himself for his weakness, for his inability to fight, but now the day came back with righteous clarity, like a dream he’d forgotten but that lay beneath the surface of his consciousness. He remembered how hard it had been to stand that day and fend off his own wife. His legs hadn’t wanted to work, but he’d forced them to. It flooded back, the sights, the sounds, her voice. The pain. And the rage. It had pooled and boiled inside him. He’d been a volcano of fury. But above the anger, there had been something else. He’d been dying and he’d refused to let Alea die, too.
As much as he’d hated his wife, it had
been the thought of an innocent woman—his friend—dying that forced him to his feet.
He hadn’t been weak after all. He’d made a choice, so he’d fought. And he’d won. Now he knew the truth: When his world had shattered, when death had been whispering along his spine, he’d told it to go to hell. He’d tried to do the right thing even at the cost of his own life.
He rested his cheek against the floor, the shock of revelation bringing him full circle. He was once again on the floor, his body weak with memory, but now there was a difference.
Oliver Thurston-Hughes knew he would get up again. He would fight.
His father had told him once that a man didn’t know the sum of his soul until he faced death. He hadn’t been measured and found wanting after all. He’d fought for himself and for Alea. He’d only survived since because he hadn’t really decided to start living again.
That changed now.
When he got to his feet, he felt like a different human being. Some weight had been lifted, and for the first time since that terrible day, he could look at himself in the mirror with pride.
He’d fought. He was a fighter.
And now he had something worth fighting for.
Tori.
He washed his face and calmed, some peace and confidence settling deep inside him. The trouble was, he didn’t just have to fight for Tori. He had to get around Talib and all those doors she’d locked between them.
Luckily, he knew a little bit about being a sneaky bastard.
Once he’d been a man who knew how to get what he wanted. He wanted Tori Glen. She would be his prize for fighting and coming out victorious. For finally moving on.
He straightened his shirt and walked back into the parlor. Alea was standing at the door, talking to her husband. Ah, his guard. The first hurdle. He knew how to handle the guard.
“I need to speak to my brothers,” he said politely. He never yelled when politeness would work.
Landon Nix frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m supposed to keep you in here until it’s time for your plane to depart. It’s only a few hours. Do you need something?”
He glanced Alea’s way. “Please. I won’t try to speak to Tori. I simply need to be with my brothers. Talking about that day…” He drew in a shuddering breath. “I need their company.”
She took his hand and started down the hall.
Lan cursed and followed, but he didn’t try to stop them again.
All the while, Oliver’s brain churned, his heart hammering because he had the solution—and it was so simple. Tori had done them the favor of coming to the palace. Oliver intended to use that in order to help her past her pride and facilitate the ending that would make them all happy.
They were in Bezakistan, and the rules were different here. Tori really should have remembered that. Likely, she’d thought he and his brothers were polite Brits. But Oliver had been married to a Bezakistani national, so they’d granted him dual citizenship. That made him Bezakistani, too.
He had rights here that sweet Tori might not be aware of. He doubted she would believe he’d ever exercise them. But oh, he intended to.
She would belong to him and his brothers again because they would take her—with Talib’s blessing. Because the sheikh would never violate or refuse the laws of his own country.
Lan opened the door to Callum and Rory’s suite.
Alea hugged him. “I hope you find some peace, Oliver. I know it didn’t work with Tori, but there’s a woman out there for someone as kind as you.”
He schooled his expression into something suitably bland. He needed to play the pathetic, depressed Oliver for a few minutes more because he didn’t want to tip anyone off about his plans…just in case.
“I hope you’re right.” He managed a broken murmur.
Alea kissed his cheek as though he was fragile and promised to call. Then she left, and he was alone with his brothers.
“I know you’re upset with Tori, but you have to listen, Ollie.” Callum came at him, pure willpower shining in his eyes.
Why had he ever thought his brother was laidback? Callum was only laidback when he didn’t care. When something mattered, he pursued what he wanted with a singular purpose.
“No, I need you to sit down.”
Callum clenched his jaw. “I’m not going to listen to reasons why we should leave her and walk away from Tori. I’m going to Dallas. That’s where she’ll be.”
“I’m going with him.” Rory nodded, his decision made.
Thank god. He’d thought he might have to convince his youngest brother that Tori was the woman for them, but it looked like Callum had done that job. “None of us are going to Dallas.”
His brothers began to argue.
“Stop! We’re not going to Dallas because Tori won’t be there. She’ll be on that bloody plane to London with us. How much rope do we have? And dear god, tell me we have some sort of gag because I don’t think she’ll go quietly.”
Callum’s jaw dropped. It was good to know he could surprise his brother. “What the hell are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I’m a Bezakistani citizen and I have rights in this country. We’re not going to Dallas on our hands and knees. We’re not going to beg. Tori chose to hide in Bezakistan and I’m going to claim my right. Brothers, we’re going to steal our bride.”
* * * *
Tori looked out over the gardens and wondered if the three brothers were on their plane back to London yet.
Her heart ached at the thought. She would never see them again. Never touch or hold them or even talk to them. Their chats had always been the best part of her day. She’d loved working at Thurston-Hughes. The dynamic environment meant there’d always been something happening, and she’d enjoyed the challenge of dealing with the British press.
Except when the press was after her. She stared out into the night and tried to tell herself she’d done the right thing. She couldn’t handle being the center of attention. She couldn’t handle their high-profile lives. There was a cost that came with the money and fame. She didn’t mind the money, but she loathed the fame. She wanted a quiet life. They couldn’t give it to her.
And she couldn’t give them what they deserved. She couldn’t give them a whole heart because she was too afraid.
“How are you?” Piper asked as she walked out onto the balcony.
At least her sister was still talking to her. She was fairly certain Talib wasn’t. When she’d asked him to send the Thurston-Hughes brothers home, he’d become frustrated with her, pushing her to tell him what had really happened. She’d cried until he’d given in but she could tell he’d been deeply disappointed in her.
“I’m fine. I’m ready to head home.” Her bags were packed. She’d leave for Texas in the morning mere hours after the best men that ever happened to her got the boot from the country. She wondered if they hated her now.
“Is it really home? I’m not there. You don’t have any friends in Dallas, do you? So why is it home?” Piper seemed to feel the need to ask her hard questions today.
But her sister was right. Dallas wasn’t home. Tori wasn’t even sure she had one. Home was where the people you loved live.
God, home was England, and she would never go back.
“I’m going to make it my home.” Tears threatened, but if she showed Piper a single sign of regret, her sage sister would be all over it.
“Tell me why you sent them away. And I swear I will scream if you tell me that they meant nothing to you beyond sex and you’re over them.”
At least she could answer this one. “It wouldn’t work. It was good for a night, but it can’t work long term.”
“Why not? It works for me.”
Tori sighed. “But that’s the norm here. The law. Not so much in London.”
“You didn’t even try to make it work,” Piper pointed out.
She fisted her hands at her sides. “I don’t have to try. I’ve watched those men for the last six months. They can’t share, not long term.
They fight too much. Last night was a moment out of time. It was great…but it wasn’t reality. I know you think I’m making a mistake, but I believe everyone going their separate ways is the right thing. London just isn’t like here. You saw how the press tore me apart for falling down the stairs. Can you imagine what they’ll do if we actually got married?”
“Every marriage has its issues. You won’t ever have to worry about money. And don’t discount the beauty of that. You’ll have every need met. Is there a tradeoff for that? Yes.” Her sister leaned against the banister. “But I think you have a skewed view of the world. I’m kind of shocked that I never saw it before. You’re very good at hiding it.”
“I have a realistic view of the world, Piper. I live out in it. You’re the one who’s sheltered.” She lived in a palace surrounded by guards and loving husbands.
Piper’s lips turned up. “Am I? Do you know what I did two weeks ago?”
“I’m sure it was fabulous.”
“I visited the border. We have refugees streaming in from the Middle East and we have to figure out how to house them and feed them because we can’t turn them away.”
The border was dangerous. Though Bezakistan had some cushion from the fighting happening all over the Middle East, it was still dangerous for anyone, let alone a royal. “Did Tal know? He would never let you go in there. Is that why there wasn’t any press?”
“There wasn’t any press because it wasn’t a photo op,” her sister said firmly. “It was an intelligence-gathering mission. I can’t know what they need unless I talk to them myself and they can’t know that the sheikh and I care unless we walk in, hand in hand, and show them. Talib understands that I won’t be a figurehead who only poses and looks pretty and gives birth every now and then. He, Rafe, and Kade picked me and they can’t change me. I’m going to do what I can to help my people.”