by M. S. Parker
I followed and wrapped my arms around her.
The warm, soft scent of her flooded my head and I thought about how much easier it would be to just pretend everything was fine.
But it wasn’t.
Aleena tipped her head back and met my eyes. “I know there's something else going on. Just tell me, love.”
Just tell her. How was I supposed to just tell her? I led her over to the couch and sat down, taking her hands in mine. While she watched me, I began to rub my thumbs over the backs of her hands. I knew she wouldn't push. She would wait until I was ready.
Just tell...
“You know what happened to me,” I said slowly, having to force the words out. I didn’t want to tell her this—to tell anybody, ever.
She twisted her hands around and twined our fingers. “Yes.”
Nothing else, just that single word.
“He was never caught.” I wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t know at this point and it was easier to do it this way, to ease into it by starting with things she'd already heard. “After I managed to escape, I guess he realized the cops would show up. He knew who I was, that people were looking for me. He was gone by the time the police showed up. It took me days before I could even manage to tell them what I knew.”
Grimly, I stared over her shoulder at the wall, but I wasn’t seeing the pale walls or the accents of maroon and black. I was seeing hell.
I continued, keeping my voice as even as possible. “He’d cleaned everything up, almost down to the floor boards. They found a few fibers, a few stray hairs, but most of them were mine. The blood...” I let my voice trail off. She didn't need to know the details.
Aleena closed her eyes, her fingers tightening around mine.
“Anyway, there wasn't any forensic evidence from him. No DNA to run through the system.” Here it came. “But then they found something that he must've forgotten. How, I don't know, but he had.”
I closed my eyes.
“He made videos.”
I heard her suck in a breath and I knew she understood.
“I don't know how many there were because I didn't want to know. I do know that he was careful. There are no direct shots of his face, nothing that they could use to find him. But they could be evidence...if he was ever caught.” I felt Aleena's lips press against my wrist. “They're buried somewhere in an evidence box and my mom made a lot of 'donations' to make sure they were never leaked, but I know they exist. And that maybe they weren't the only ones. That somewhere, someone could be watching...”
“Shh.” She covered my mouth with hers and I could taste salt on her lips. “It's okay. I'm here.”
I opened my eyes and looked down at her. “I’m going to handle this.” I needed her to believe me.
She nodded, and a wave of relief went through me. I'd still fucked up, but she believed that I'd make it right. I pulled her into my lap, wrapping my arms tight around her.
Chapter 15
Dominic
The sun was hot, glaring down on me from a painfully blue sky.
Next to me, Cecily stood talking to Aleena. The bright and cheerful red of her sundress contrasted with the blue of Aleena’s. Aleena’s skin, warm and smooth, glowed against the vivid shade.
I had gone with a white polo shirt and pair of jeans myself.
The red, white and blue was for a reason. Hundreds of people were scattered around the lush green grass behind Cecily’s country club. The tang of barbeque hung in the air and the white tents with portable air conditioners were full as people moved in and out, enjoying the picnic-styled meal.
Every year, Cecily held a Fourth of July picnic. It was both a family outing for the youth and single parents who had been helped by her foundation and it was also a fundraiser. This year, she’d asked if Aleena and I wanted to come. It'd be a great place for me to talk about In From the Cold.
It would also be the first official appearance in public for Cecily and me. The media attention hadn't been letting up, so we’d decided it was time to use it to our advantage and get some easy PR for my budding foundation and Cecily’s established ones.
It was still over two months before I could officially call In From the Cold a charitable organization, but I knew all about building the buzz before the actual event and this was the perfect venue.
Although I’d been more than happy to join her when she’d first asked me, right now, I was wishing I’d said no, or that I’d attended as just a guest. It pissed me off, because I’d actually been looking forward to this. Not because I liked being around this many people, but because I liked any time I got to spend with Cecily.
I never enjoyed these sort of functions. I didn’t exactly hate them, but they weren’t on the top of my list, either. They were a necessary evil and nothing more. This would have been different because I would've been with her.
Mitchell Pence, the son of a bitch, had ruined everything. It had been three days since he’d delivered his threat and it was hanging over everything I did. I wanted to take the two million he’d asked for and shove it down his throat.
So far Kowalski hadn’t been able to discover who'd been behind the videos, but he called daily and the latest phone call had been to let me know he might have found a loose thread. He’d keep me updated.
Loose thread. I was seriously hoping that meant answers.
“I think it’s going rather well,” Cecily murmured after several guests had wandered off. We'd been at this for several hours and for the first few of them, I hadn’t been able to do much of anything without running into a reporter or a camera.
The media had been invited and they'd been like hyenas during the short press conference we’d set up before the festivities were scheduled to start. But it had been long enough that most of them had asked what needed to asked, disappeared to send off little teasers to their respective places of work and then dig into the free food and booze.
A few reporters were still working the crowd and I wasn’t surprised. They were in the middle of a human interest smorgasbord. Some of Cecily’s guests were women who’d gone on to thrive after help from her foundation, while others were inner city kids and their families. And some of those kids were freaking adorable.
More than a few of them had come up to talk to Cecily and I could see the pleasure in her eyes as they chatted and each time one of them hugged her and thanked her, it caused a heavy tightness in my chest.
Pride.
My mother was fucking awesome.
She was making such a difference here and I was going to do the same.
As Cecily was approached again, Aleena took my hand and squeezed. “People seem to be having a lot of fun.”
Nodding, I rubbed my thumb on the inside of her wrist and counted down the hours until we could leave and I could strip her naked. I was proud of Cecily, but I wanted Aleena so badly that it hurt.
“I’ve run out of all the information I brought to pass out for those who are interested in In From the Cold.” She looked pleased with herself.
“I’d noticed,” I told her with a smile.
“I guess I should have brought more.”
As her smile widened, I seriously considered leaning over and biting the full lower curve of her lip.
“You brought enough,” I assured her.
She’d had several hundred mini-booklets she’d had made up just for today and more than once, she’d had to refill the stash she’d kept in the red drawstring purse that hung from her wrist.
It looked like a deflated balloon now, holding little more than her phone, judging by the odd lump that distorted the bottom.
“You could have taken the day off.” Skimming the crowd with my gaze, I shrugged. “It is the Fourth of July, after all.”
“You aren't taking the day off.” She sighed contentedly. “Besides, I love this sort of thing.” Then she winked at me. “If you ever decide you don’t need an assistant, I’m going to go into PR work.”
I caught her around the waist,
pulled her flush up against me. More than a few cameras swung our way, but I ignored them as I pressed a quick kiss to her lips.
“Don’t even think about it,” I told her. I wasn’t even remotely kidding, either. I couldn’t imagining functioning without her. My heart twisted just thinking about it.
***
Another hour passed before people started to thin out and it wasn't for at least another hour before the majority of the crowd left. Moving around, I spoke to a couple of lingering guests while Aleena chatted animatedly with somebody who worked in my marketing arm. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place the name, not that I particularly cared about that at the moment. He was gazing at Aleena with a look that was close to lovestruck.
She was sweetly unaware and when she gave him a small wave and turned toward me, I smiled at her. I caught the expression on the PR guy's face when he saw me smiling at her and I almost laughed as the color drained from his face. I wasn't even angry that he'd wanted her because it didn't matter what he wanted.
She was mine. My stomach clenched. Mine.
“Excuse me, Mr. Snow.”
Looking around, I saw a piece of muscle politely awaiting my attention. I didn’t know him. Big, muscled, he stood there in a nice, discreet suit. It wasn’t too pricy, but it hadn’t come off the rack either.
Country club security.
I raised an eyebrow as I asked, “Yes?”
“One of the attendees would like a word with you.” The flat set of his lips stretched a bit wider in what I suppose could be called a smile.
“And who is this attendee?”
Cocking his head toward the sprawl of the country club, he said, “I wasn’t told. If you would, he’s inside, waiting for you in one of the meeting rooms.”
I almost told him to tell whoever was they could come out here, but then it occurred to be that it might be Mitchell Pence. A private room. The perfect place to kill him.
The man led me inside and down a couple of winding corridors. We stopped at a door watched by his older, better-dressed twin. Not because they actually looked alike. They both had the same, implacable, blank expression and the big, bulky muscles. But the new guy wore a better suit and when he smiled at me, it looked authentic.
Looked.
It wasn’t.
More security, and I didn't think this one worked for the country club.
As Suit One left, I studied Suit Two.
“I’m here.” I didn’t point out that I didn’t care for being summoned. It would serve no purpose. But I knew one thing—this wasn't Pence. He didn’t have the cashflow for the kind of man who stood there barring the door.
Without speaking, he stepped aside and opened the door, allowing me to enter. Tension climbed up the back of my neck as I walked into the room. The door closed discreetly behind me and I looked around.
JC Woodrow stood at the window.
Shit.
He look to be lost in thought, or maybe just really interested in the picnic. Either way, I didn't want to know. I slid my hands into my pocket. I wished it would've been Pence. I’d been looking forward to pummeling him and I was definitely feeling the urge to hit something even more now.
I had absolutely no desire to talk to my biological father.
“It’s called a picnic,” I said bluntly. “And I’m pretty sure you weren’t on the list of guests, but if you’d wanted to come, you should have just asked for an invitation. I think you know the woman hosting it.”
He didn’t turn to face me right away. I stayed where I was, staring at him as he continued to look outside.
Play all the power games you want, asshole, I thought. I’m pretty good at them myself.
If he really wanted to try to mess with me, I was more than happy to let him.
Finally, he turned.
It was like looking into a bizarre warp of the future. That would be my face in thirty-some years. With a lot less Botox. His doctor was good, but I could still see the faint tightness and a telling smoothness in JC's cheeks.
“I must say, I was very surprised when I saw your face and the pictures along with the articles done about Cecily and her long lost son.” He paused and then asked, “Did you do a DNA test?”
“Is it any concern of yours?”
He shrugged. The movement looked out of place on him as he stood there, stern and unyielding. He seriously needed to yank the stick out of his ass.
“I’d heard that you two had connected and I would've assumed both of you would have wanted to be sure. I know who you are, Dominic. You’ve made quite the name for yourself in the business world and you don’t strike me as a fool. I would have wanted to be sure, if I were in your shoes.”
“Like father, like son?” I jabbed at him and saw the flicker of anger in his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ve already figured out that I might look like you, but I take after my mother in all the ways that count.”
He smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt. “Dominic, I’ve already explained many times that I never had an affair with her. She was young and troubled and confused.”
“Uh-huh.” I bared my teeth at him in a mockery of a smile. “You’re right. I look nothing like you did thirty years ago. Must've been why every news story has mentioned it. Again, why is any of this your concern?”
“You stand there and make it clear you think you’re my son.” He waved a hand through the air, brushing the idea away. “But you’re not. And since you haven't asked to have a DNA test done—”
“I did.” I cut him off. “With her. Because she mattered. You?”
I took a few steps closer and watched the caution slip into his eyes. I might've looked like him, but I had a couple inches and quite a bit more muscle than he did. He should've spent less time schmoozing and more time at the gym.
“Frankly, you don’t matter.”
Red washed crossed his features, but it was gone in a blink.
“Look, Dominic…I hate that we’re getting off on the wrong foot here.” He gave me his charming, politician’s smile. The kind that didn't even come close to reaching his eyes. “I just want to know if you have any intentions.”
“Intentions.” I said it slowly as if I wasn’t familiar with the word. I nodded after a moment and then said, “Sure. I have intentions. I’m setting up a charity for woman who had their children abducted—particularly babies. I want to do what I can to make sure nobody suffers like Cecily did. I’m setting up a separate arm of that charity that will focus on human trafficking.” I paused and then added, “That’s the PC term for modern-day slavery, you know. When people are just sold like something at the damn store.”
He stared at me, hard.
“We’re not yet accepting donations, but if you want to write out a check for all the grief you caused, Cecily would be happy to take it.”
“I have a hard time believing that's what this is about. Money for some charity.” His voice was stiff.
“I thought you said you knew who I was.” I laughed and then leaned in, said softly, “My net worth would absolutely crush yours. I don’t need your money. But if you’re looking for a way to solve your guilt for how you seduced a nineteen year-old girl?” I shrugged. “Helping the other women who are in the same position she was in might be a good way to start.”
“I understand why you might feel slighted. You’ve read her book, I imagine.” JC gave me a sympathetic smile and if I hadn't been a cynical son of a bitch, I might have bought into it.
But my cynicism went all the way down to the bone. That was, in a large part, thanks to my other father.
“Any number of people have read that book and assumed it was all true. I’m still dealing with my lawyer about her…lies.” He sighed sadly. “But we’ll likely let it go. I don’t want to shine any more attention on her sad stories. But you deserve to know the truth. Cecily was a troubled teenager. Yes, I did know her. Her father was a friend of mine. She often threw herself at me, but she was a child. One with problems. I felt sorry for her, no
thing more.” He shook his head and the expression on his face was the perfect example of sympathetic pity. “I’m sorry, but you are not my son.”
My hands curled into fist. Oh, he wanted to go there, did he? He could say what he wanted about me, but I'd be damned if I let him drag her name through the mud.
“We can always do a DNA test, if that’s the line you’re drawing.” I shrugged lazily. “Honestly, I don’t give a fuck, but if you insist…”
Sweat began to form along his brow and I could see the nerves jumping in his eyes. In a blink, his face was back to the same, calm, concerned façade.
But I knew what I’d seen.
The prick had come here thinking he could intimidate me. Fat chance of that.
“I’ll tell you what. Because I’ve got better things to do then talk to you, I’m going to tell you the truth. I don’t want anything from you. Not your acknowledgement. Not your lies. I don’t even want to waste whatever bits of hair or body fluid would be required for the testing.” I raked him over with a look, letting my disgust show. “I don’t even want your name anywhere near my foundation.”
A muscle in his cheek started to pulse and this time, when he spoke, he didn’t bother to fake any concern. In a tight voice, he said, “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that.”
He didn’t look happy though. He looked pissed.
And I was glad.
Chapter 16
Aleena
It was too early. I cracked one eye open to look out the window and saw the pounding rain. For a moment, I entertained the idea of lounging in bed half the morning, doing nothing but reading and drinking coffee.
Unfortunately, as understanding as my boss was, I did have work to get done. A lot of it. I hit the lights on the night stand, then immediately wished I hadn't.
My head was pounding.
I thought back to the past few nights. After the Fourth of July party, Dominic had been brooding and grim, even more so than usual. He’d sketched out what had happened between his father and I’d gotten us both a drink.