Fallen Rose

by Amelia Wilde

  A frown tugs at the corner of Haley’s mouth. She reaches up for me. Her fingertips brush against my cheekbone. “Oh, Leo, you’re crying.”

  At the sound of her voice, at the sound of my name, my balance deserts me. I rock back until I’m sitting heavily on the rug, my back to the fire. My shadow covers Haley’s body but there’s enough light surrounding us to see her eyes. Haley loops her arms around my neck and lets me hold her. I kiss her forehead. Her cheeks. Her chin. I turn her face in my hand and breathe a silent prayer to the bruise darkening her skin. Never again. They’ll never hurt her here again. No one will ever hurt her again. A light hand, light as air, rests on the top of my head for a fraction of a breath.

  Small hands on my face bring me back to her eyes. I never thought I would see this shade of blue again, except in my dreams. “Darling. You came back.”

  She smiles, a little sheepish, wholly perfect. “I’ll always come back. You can’t scare me away.”

  “I love you.” The words are so small. My love for her so great. I want to make her understand that these words are like grains of sand in comparison to the size of the universe. I’ll take a lifetime to do it, if she’ll give it to me. “I should have told you before.”

  Haley breathes a laugh. “You did. I don’t think you knew you were saying it. We were—” So many things we’ve done together, so many things I’ve done to her, and she blushes for me. “The night you brought me home.” I was rough with her that night, and Haley begged me for it. She wasn’t afraid. “But I knew. I always knew.” She puts my hand over her heart again. The beat is strong and steady under my palm. “I could feel it here.”

  “But I was—I’ve been—”

  “I love you,” she says. “You showed yourself to me, over and over again, even when it hurt.” Haley runs her fingers through my hair and over the contours of my face. “For a beast, you really wear your heart on your sleeve.”

  “My heart has been in your pocket from the moment we met. Stay with me.” I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles. “Forever. I don’t care where we go. I don’t care if we have to live with your family or go to the ends of the earth. I need you.”

  Haley shakes her head. “My home is here, with you. In your house.” Her nose wrinkles, and it’s so fucking adorable I could die. Or live. “You have a castle, Leo. I don’t know why you won’t admit you’re a prince.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Haley

  Daphne thought Leo was a control freak about the makeup for my birthday party, and maybe she was right. But it’s nothing compared to how he is after I hit my head. After Rick hit my head.

  He summons Dr. Carina Jain to examine me, along with a full team including a neurotrauma specialist and a neurologist and three other people with intimidating titles. They recommend ice, rest, and ibuprofen for the pain. It’s Leo who insists on keeping me in his bed for those days. It’s Leo who wakes me up in the night so he can look at my pupils for signs of concussion and ask me questions to look for signs of confusion.

  “It’s just a headache,” I tell him in the middle of the third night as he stares into my eyes. “Do you ever sleep? How can you sleep if you wake me up all night?”

  “I wake you up every night. Do you remember where you are?”

  His hands are so warm, so gentle on my face. I’m so tired. My eyes burn. “Your house.”

  “Where’s my house?”

  “A castle.”

  Leo frowns.

  “A castle outside New York City. It’s not in Bishop’s Landing.”

  “And who am I?”

  He asks me this question every time, his tone almost teasing. “Leo Morelli. Beast of Bishop’s Landing. A man with a terrible temper and an even worse reputation.”

  “And?”

  “And the love of my life.” Leo leans in and kisses me. His teeth sink into my bottom lip. His hand wraps around the back of my neck. But before he can put any real pressure on my body, he’s gone. Turning out the low light in the bathroom. He puts his arm around my waist and ushers me back to the bed. Puts me in. Pulls the covers up tight. I let out a frustrated groan, fighting uselessly against the blanket. “I wish you would just—”

  “Fuck you?” Leo says from the other side of the bed. “Is that you were going to ask for? You still blush when you want sex. But I think not, darling. Not until you can take it.”

  “I can take it now,” I say, pouting.

  “Can you?” His fingers in my hair. His voice in my ear. “You’re already falling asleep.”

  “I’m not,” I say, but it’s a lie. My eyes drift closed against my will. The last thing I see is Leo’s face blurring into light and shadows as dreams overtake me.

  On the fifth day, the doctors clear me for light physical activity. Leo says that doesn’t include fucking. I tell him he’s never been so mean.

  On the sixth day I wake up with a pit in my stomach and jittery hands. Early, because we’re going into the city for a meeting. I wanted to go sooner. Leo didn’t. I pretend not to be nervous when he takes me into his enormous shower, with its wide shelf and its wide bench.

  When Leo has the water the temperature the way he wants it, he pulls me underneath the stream and kisses me. Hard. Harder. So hard my body responds, coming alive again after days and days of missing him, of wanting him, of having a headache. It’s better today. It’s a lot better. The bruise isn’t. He backs me up to the stone bench and pushes me onto it under the force of his kiss.

  And then he starts kissing down my body. He takes each of my nipples between his teeth, one by one, and by the time he’s on his knees between my legs I’m a hot, panting mess braced against the wall. Leo wraps his arms around my thighs and spreads them open for more access, and Jesus, it’s good. It’s good. It’s so good. I’m not used to it, my muscles straining, but the first lick of his tongue chases that feeling away.

  He’s careful, but he’s not gentle.

  Oh, thank god.

  I can’t breathe for what he’s doing. Tongue and teeth and relentless pressure. His fingertips dig into my legs the way they always have, hard, hard, hard, and the pain makes me feel less like a delicate creature made of glass and more like myself. The woman who loves Leo Morelli. The woman who wants him every second. Pleasure spikes from my center and wraps around my hips, which buck against it, fight against it. It’s like the time he did this on his dining room table. My whole body fights him. My whole body wants him to win.

  And I’m going to explode, I’m going to fly apart from this indescribable thing he’s doing with his tongue on my clit, when he slows.

  Leo’s body shifts back and I reach for any part of him I can touch. His hair. His shoulders. “No. Don’t stop. No. Please.”

  He’s looking at me from between my thighs, his big hands holding me still, dark eyes on my face.

  “Why?” Frustrated tears gather in the corners of my eyes. My body is still sore and exhausted, but I need this intimacy with him. “Why did you stop? I’m fine, Leo, I’m okay, please…”

  “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he says.

  I arch toward him again. He’s so close. His mouth is so close. I feel his warm breath on the inside of my thighs. “I’ll do anything, Leo. I’ll—I’ll beg, if that’s what you want. Just—”

  “Marry me.”

  I feel the heat of his words against the heat of me, and now I am crying, now the tears are set free. I’m still trying to get his mouth back on me. His tongue. His teeth. Please. I get my hands on his face, and oh, how dare he. How dare he. “Now? Now’s when you’re going to ask? Today?”

  “I’m not asking.” Counterpressure on my thighs, holding me down. Oh, I love this. I love this. “I need you. I need this.” He strokes his tongue through my slickness, a dark grin in his eyes. “And you. I can’t breathe without you. I don’t want to breathe without you. Marry me.”

  “Yes. Yes. Yes. Please.”

  He leans down to taste me then. Takes his time. T
here’s no part of me he doesn’t touch. Doesn’t mark. “Your pussy loved that,” he says, and then he closes his mouth over my clit and I’m lost. “Your pussy wants to marry me. It loves the feel of my tongue, doesn’t it?”

  Leo’s first act as my fiancé is to make me come so hard my thighs ache and my vision darkens, shutting out everything but the pleasure he’s giving me. The pain. Everything but him.

  * * *

  Leo

  Haley dresses for the meeting in the city in black. I bring in her favorite stylist to do her hair and her makeup. My fiancée glows the entire time, which eases the tight knot at the center of my chest. Haley has been insisting on the meeting since I got her up to my bedroom after that asshole Rick fled the scene. Insisting. On meeting with Caroline.

  She wanted to go alone—to meet with her Constantine to Constantine—but there’s no way in hell. So we’re both attending the meeting.

  I’ve given her everything I could think of as armor. Access to my lawyers. A custom Armani dress. Delicate earrings and a necklace that puts a glint of gold at the hollow of her throat. I asked her if she wanted any other color but black for her clothes, but she shook her head. “I don’t want to look like a Constantine. I want to be yours.”

  And now there’s a string around her finger, a length of thread taken from one of my shirts. “This is a placeholder,” I said as I slipped it on, and Haley nodded, her eyes shining. The last shield between her and this day, except for me.

  Thomas pulls up to the curb outside one of New York City’s many glassed-in high-rises, and I take Haley’s hand in mine. “We can send the lawyers without us. You don’t have to meet with her. All this can be resolved another way.”

  She lifts her chin, her blue eyes filled with determination. “I want it like this,” she says.

  I will give her anything she wants. Always.

  We are first to the meeting room on the ninth floor, a detail I demanded in negotiations. Haley has time to get her bearings with the lawyer and her associate, and I’m standing at her side when Caroline comes in with hers. Four lawyers means four witnesses.

  Caroline, all in white, takes her seat with an air of impatience, tucks her purse into her lap, and looks me in the eye. “I’m not sure why you asked me here, Leo. What the prosecutor does is out of my hands. The police have your confession to them on the record.”

  “His confession?” Haley tilts her head to the side, so graceful and queenlike I could fuck her right here on this table. “We didn’t come to discuss the charges against Leo.”

  Haley’s aunt directs a fake, sad smile across the table. “Sweetheart, it’s best if you stay out of these negotiations. You’ve been through so much. The family will protect you, if you would only let us. He’s twisted your mind so much you think he’s helping you.”

  My darling returns that fake, sad smile to her with such accuracy I get goose bumps. In this moment I can see the Constantine in her—the ferocity. “I’m so glad to hear that, Aunt Caroline. I’m going to need your help with the case.”

  “Case?”

  “The case against Rick Joseph.” The corners of Haley’s mouth turn down. “Now that I’m able to sit for interviews, I’m pressing charges for assault.”

  Caroline’s eyes narrow. “He didn’t assault you, darling. The two of you had a perfectly lovely dinner date. Your outburst near the end was completely understandable, given what Leo has put you through. You were distraught.”

  “The dinner date,” Haley muses. “The dinner date was lovely, up until he touched me without my consent.” I breathe through a sharp spike of rage. Keep it in check. Haley wears a symbol of my love for her on her finger, and she’s sitting on my side of the table, and she’s mine. “All the way up my inner thigh. Almost to my—”

  “Haley,” Caroline scolds, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This is the same bullshit tone she tried to use with me the night I whipped her. The same false calm, as if she’s in control of the situation instead of spiraling out of control.

  “It was odd,” my darling continues. “Because he leaned over me and reached for his belt, and then he said—” Her gaze flicks toward the ceiling. “He said this is what we’re supposed to do.” A heartbeat, and Haley shrugs. “I’m not sure who told him that he was supposed to rape me, but—” She waves this away. “That’s not the assault I’m talking about.”

  “He didn’t assault you.” Caroline laughs, incredulous, icy.

  “Yes,” Haley says. “He did.” And then she turns her head so Caroline can see the enormous bruise covering her temple. “He hit me with a paperweight.”

  Caroline can’t stop staring. “I had nothing to do with that. I’m sorry to see that happened to you, but I’ve tried to warn you about Leo Morelli. His violence is renowned.”

  Haley’s brows draw together. The picture of innocent confusion. “But Aunt Caroline, Rick called you. He called you so many times. Twenty minutes after he attacked me. He didn’t tell you? Sarah, can you show her the phone records?”

  “Absolutely.” My lawyer slides a folio across the table to Caroline, who opens it with her fingertips. There are Rick’s call logs. There is her number, highlighted in yellow.

  “There’s also the recording,” I add, and Caroline’s eyes dart to mine. “He mentioned your name.”

  Caroline’s lawyers tense. This was not part of the original discussion. Not part of the negotiations for this meeting spot, or any other fucking thing. And it’s not close to the truth. It is the truth. I don’t have cameras in my home, fucking detest the thought of them, but I did set up a voice recorder the night Caroline sent Rick to kill me. Insurance purposes, mainly. Less likely for anyone to believe I killed myself.

  “And there are others.” Haley takes a deep breath and reaches for the clutch in her lap. “Other recordings, I mean. These ones are a bit different. A bit older. You’re in them,” she says lightly. Her hand is at the lip of the table. “I’ve learned a lot about the laws in New York, Aunt Caroline.” Jesus fuck, I’m so proud of her. “About how there’s no time limit on crimes that—”

  “Enough.” Caroline has one hand flat on the table. No more color in her face. Her lawyers lean in now, faces blank. “How dare you turn on your own family? That’s enough.”

  “Is it?” I ask, and Caroline fucking hates it. She hates to look at me. I wonder if her back hurts as much as mine. “Too painful to relive the past?”

  She gives a tight smile. “It would be best for our families if we didn’t. Families such as your sisters, Leo. And your brother and sister, Haley. I’m sure we can come to an understanding.”

  “Like…” Haley bites her lip. “Maybe if you left us the fuck alone?”

  Caroline jerks back like Haley slapped her, her hand going into a fist, but she recovers. “There’s no need to be vulgar. No need for all these lawyers. A misunderstanding among family.”

  “And you’d obviously place a call to the prosecutor as soon as we step out,” Haley says. “I would find it very vulgar to be dragged through a court proceeding against my will.”

  A swift nod. Caroline stands, and Haley does, too. I’m right beside her. I won’t leave her alone in Caroline’s presence, even in a public setting.

  “I have some calls to make, if that’s all—”

  “Apologize,” Haley says, and I’ve never heard such frigid resolve in her sweet voice. She looks as hard and as furious as any Morelli. “For what you did.”

  Caroline draws herself up to her full height. She looks down on Haley with bitter imperiousness. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, if you felt hurt by something I did.”

  “To Leo.”

  Her fist clenches around her purse. “That boy—” She can’t fucking believe this. “That boy doesn’t deserve the slightest—”

  “That man is my fiancé.” Haley leans into me and traces the thread around her finger with a fingertip. “He’ll be my family soon. And I feel so strongly about doing what’s right for my family.” She rests her
hand on her clutch, her grasp inches from her phone. “I’m sure you understand loyalty to family.”

  Caroline glares at Haley for three solid heartbeats before she turns her head to me. Her crystal blue eyes blaze with impotent anger and resentment. “I apologize.”

  Then she turns and goes. Haley watches her leave. After Caroline and her lawyers disappear from view, she lets out a breath. “I know she didn’t mean it,” she says softly, her eyes meeting mine. “But that felt good.”

  I pull her close. “Better than this morning?”

  Haley blushes. “No way.”

  “There’s more waiting in the car, if you think you can handle it.”

  She loops her arm through mine, tugging hard for the door. “Let’s go,” Haley says, her voice so light, so free, the darkness of Caroline Constantine, the pain of the past left behind in the room. “Hurry, hurry, hurry.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Haley

  The knock at Leo’s front doors comes an hour before my engagement party.

  It’s a clear, dark night, and Leo’s house glows with candles and sprays of light. Eva has been staying over to plan it with Daphne, and the two of them have taken the castle and transformed it into another dream.

  Guests will follow a lighted path through to the ballroom in the far wing of the house. Eva and Daphne haven’t let me in yet. They want the full impact of the decorations to be a surprise. I can’t wait to see it. I can’t wait to be at the party with Leo.

  But first I step into my spot by the double doors and wait for Gerard to open them.

  My dad and Cash hesitate on the threshold. Cash, because he’s looking into the foyer with trepidation, though he’s been here before. My dad, because he’s looking at me. My gown for the evening is such a pale pink it’s almost white, and it glimmers in the candlelight. His hand comes up to cover his mouth, and when he takes it down again his eyes are shining. “You look—” The same hand goes to his chest. “You look just like your mother.”