“Shhh, there is no need to save us. We can fight our own battles against your father. Right now, I need you to do something for me. We’re going to stop this wedding…”
My fingers dig into the expensive suit he’s wearing. “No. You can’t. He’ll find a way to hurt you. I can’t let him.” I’m frantic. Trying to protect them. I know my father, and I know he’ll do whatever he can to get his way.
“Stop, Harlow,” Sullivan whispers and then shuts me up with a kiss that’s hard, fierce, and needy. In that kiss, I feel every ounce of pain, every drop of need. I feel the love he has for me, and I never ever want to let it go. Grabbing onto him, I deepen the kiss, becoming crazed with need. My hands roam over every inch of him, as he does the same, holding me close like I’m a fragile piece of glass.
“I need you,” I pant against his lips as I break the kiss a moment later. Looking up at him, I can see the hunger flickering in his smoldering gaze. He wants me just as badly as I want him, and if this is going to be our last time together, forever, which it has to be, then I’m going to take it. I’m going to take my fill of him until there is nothing more to take.
Without an ounce of hesitation, Sullivan undoes his belt and pushes his dress pants down, freeing his cock. My mouth waters at the sight, and I shiver as his hands move to the hem of my dress, before disappearing beneath it. A moment later, the sound of fabric tearing fills the night air, and the thong I was wearing is discarded on the ground.
With his hands on my hips, he lifts me, and I snake my arms around his neck, a tiny mewl of pleasure escaping my lips, as his cock brushes against my soaked folds.
“Fuck. I knew you didn’t want him. I knew it,” he growls against my throat as he lines us up, and I sink slowly down onto his length. In that moment, the world could explode around us, and I wouldn’t care. There is nothing that compares to the pleasure that fills my veins as he enters me.
“Tell me you don’t love him… tell me that you love me, and my brothers,” Sullivan pleads, his handsome features haunted.
“I love you and your brothers. Only you guys…” The words come out on a pant as Sullivan bounces me up and down on his cock, his muscular thighs, and biceps holding me up as if I weigh nothing.
Sweat beads my forehead, and I already know that I need more, so much more. He’s fucking me but not like I need him. As if he knows this, Sullivan moves me, so my back is against the brick wall. Then he starts to thrust upward, entering me at such a pace even my eyes can’t keep up. Blood swooshes in my ears, and my lungs fill with air. For the first time since my father took me away, it feels like I can breathe again.
It feels like with every stroke he’s slowly piecing my broken heart back together. His grip on my hips turns bruising, and I pull back wanting, no needing, to see his face as we fall apart together. My entire body starts to tighten like a coil, my heart races heavily in my chest. Every hair on my body stands on end, as the sound of our panting fills the air, as we come together. I need more, so much more. I don’t want this moment to end, ever. Pulling at his shirt like a mad woman, I rip it until the buttons go flying, and my hands find hot bare skin. At my touch, Sullivan hisses.
“You’re my home. The beginning, the end, and everything in between,” he whispers, as he slows his pace, and enters me slowly, so slow it almost hurts.
The tears start to fall from my eyes again as he brings me to orgasm, my entire body shaking as pleasure ripples through me like waves cresting the shoreline. It doesn’t take long before he starts to come himself, filling me with his sticky hot seed. I sigh so heavily at the feeling, trying with all my might to memorize exactly what this moment feels like.
It will forever be my most cherished memory of him. He holds me in his arms for a while longer, before placing me back down on my feet.
All I can do is stare at the ground, the cold seeping back into my skin at the loss of his body heat.
“This isn’t the end, Harlow. Not even fucking close. You’re not marrying that fucker tomorrow.”
“I have to.”
With two fingers, he tips my chin upward, forcing me to look at him. “No, you do not. Oliver, Banks, and I will not let it happen. They’ll have to kill us first.”
That’s what I’m worried about. I think to myself but don’t say it out loud. Sullivan stares at me for a long moment, before he starts to tuck himself back into his pants and fixes his shirt the best he can. As our time comes to an end, I hold the tears in, refusing to let them taint the final memory that I’ll have with him.
“I love you, Harlow, we all do, and we will fight for you. I’m sorry that we let this happen, but I swear, baby, we will make it right.”
Shaking my head, my hair falls into my face. I can’t listen to him say these things. None of this is their fault, and there aren’t enough words or time to explain it.
“I love you too. All three of you. Please tell your brothers that. I didn’t mean to hurt Banks the other day, I didn’t want to hurt any of you, I just…”
Sullivan’s brow furrows. “Stop acting like this is the end, it’s not.”
Biting into my bottom lip, I suck in a shaky breath. “It’s the end, Sullivan. It has to be. I have to protect you. I love you, but sometimes love isn’t enough.”
Sullivan opens his mouth to say something, but approaching footsteps stop him from speaking. Peeking through the bushes, I see Bert standing at the top of the steps.
“I have to go,” I say, not even looking up at Sullivan as I say the words.
“This isn’t the end, Harlow, it’s merely the beginning.”
Oh, how I wish that were the truth.
30
This isn’t the end, Harlow, it’s merely the beginning. Sullivan’s words haunt me later that night as I lie awake in bed, unable to sleep. Tossing and turning, all I can do is think, my brain refusing to shut off.
I should be sleeping, getting some rest because tomorrow is going to be a long day, but I can’t stop thinking about what he said. Maybe he’s right. Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe it is just the beginning…the question is, the beginning of what? A loveless life as a prisoner?
No, I can’t just let this happen to me, I need to try and save myself, without endangering the guys. There has to be a way for me to fight back, to get out of this situation. I can’t marry Matt, but I also can’t let my father hurt the men I love. I have to do something… anything. Filled with nervous energy, I don’t even think as I tiptoe from my bed.
The house is quiet and bathed in complete darkness. My parents should be asleep by now. Which gives me the perfect opportunity to go snooping. If I can just find something, a tiny indication of my father doing shady business, I would have the leverage I need against him. I could force him to let me go, force him to let me be with the Bishops.
Like a ninja, I move through the house wearing nothing but my pajamas. I head to the most likely place I would find something… my father’s office. When he is at home, he is usually in there, working or maybe just hiding from my mom. I don’t know what he does in there, but he does spend a lot of time locked inside.
I push the heavy wooden door open, entering the room, I can smell nothing but his spicy cologne. It lingers in the space, leaving me with an uneasy feeling in my gut. Switching on the light the room illuminates with a soft glow, one of the walls is covered in bookshelves, there is a wet bar beneath the huge bay window, and an oversized mahogany desk is centered in the room. My gaze pauses on the bookshelves and then moves back to his desk. I decide to start there first.
Moving behind the desk, I take a seat on the soft leather chair and start to go through the drawers. The first has nothing but cigars, lighters, and cigar cutters inside. The second holds an assortment of contents, the drawer looks to be like a catch-all. I rummage through it, gagging when I find two condoms and… lube. What the fuck? Shutting the drawer quickly, I swallow down the puke threatening to rise up my throat.
Reaching for the brass knob on the third drawer, I pu
ll it but find it doesn’t open. It discourages me and gives me hope all at the same time. I might not be able to get in there, but it must have something worthwhile in there. Something that he is hiding.
I mean, why else would it be locked?
All I need is one thing, one piece of evidence to use against him.
Grabbing his heavy letter opener from the top of the desk, I use it to try and pry the drawer open. After a few minutes, I nearly give up, but then I hear it, a crack sounds inside of the drawer, almost like something is breaking.
Yes! Excitement fills my veins, and I give it one final shove, and the stupid lock comes undone. Thank god! I could cry, I’m so happy.
The drawer pops open, and I stare down at its contents with confusion. It’s not what I expected to find. Instead of business notes or documents, I find old photos and something that looks like hand-written letters.
Digging through the contents, my confusion mounts, because I don’t recognize the woman in these pictures. She’s most definitely not my mother, so who is she? I recognize my dad, a younger, carefree looking version of him, standing beside the mysterious woman in the photos, there is something oddly familiar about her. Staring at the image, I try and place her in my mind. Maybe I knew her before I lost my memory, and that’s why she seems familiar?
When my head starts to hurt, I decide to switch gears and open one of the letters. I scan over the words, my heart pounding in my chest as I do.
To the love of my life,
It’s been days since I last saw your face. Every night I fall asleep dreaming of the day you’ll be mine. I know that George thinks that the baby is his, but I know that it’s mine. We belong together, as a family. Please come back to me, my love.
Love always,
Lionel
Air refuses to enter my lungs. There are numerous letters, all very much like the one I just read. Letter after hand-written letter. My hands start to shake, as the confusion intensifies. Placing the letter back down, I push away from the desk. It’s then that a picture out of the pile catches my eye.
I pick it up, unable to ignore the gut feeling that’s swirling in my stomach. I study the dingy photo intensely. It’s my dad, he must be my age in this picture. The woman from the other picture is in it too, but there is a third person… a man, one that looks just as familiar.
I’m not sure who he is, but if I had to place him somewhere in my head, I would say he could be a lost Bishop brother. He has Oliver’s chocolate brown eyes, Sullivan’s masculine jaw, and Banks’ mischievous smile. Flipping the picture over, I read three names written in black ink on the back.
George, Phoebe, and Lionel. George? Then like a missing puzzle piece it clicks.
George Bishop… The brothers’ dad. The questions seem to stack higher and higher with each new thing I discover. Why would my father keep a picture of him and George? Especially one where they look like friends instead of enemies? While those questions are weighing the biggest one is, who is Phoebe? More confused than ever, I search for more pictures, and more answers but still come up empty. It’s like searching for gold and hoping to find the biggest nugget.
I find a few more photos with George and my father, some with all three of them but most have the girl named Phoebe in them. All the way at the bottom of the drawer, I find a large picture, it’s the only one that’s in a frame, signifying its importance.
Again, it’s Phoebe. She is sitting in a rocking chair, cradling a growing baby bump, a bright, joyful smile on her lips. I examine the picture carefully, and my heart stops, my lungs cease to work, and the blood freezes in my veins.
On her lap is a folded baby blanket with pink embroidered letters on it that reads Harlow.
I don’t know how long I sit there staring at the picture, letting all of this new information sink in, but it feels like an eternity. I’m shell shocked, desperate for more answers, answers that I know I won’t get unless I go to my father. Anger simmers just below the surface. I don’t know who Phoebe is yet, but I do know she is important to me.
A distant noise fills the air, soft giggling is what it sounds like. Who is up giggling at this hour? I force myself to look away from the picture. I can make out the sound of approaching footsteps, there are two pairs, one soft, and the other heavier. Jumping from the chair, I shove all the contents from the drawer back inside it. I close it, trying my best to make it look like nothing happened. Hurrying across the room, I flip the light switch off.
As fast as I can without falling, I use my hands and pat along the bookshelf in the dark until I reach the edge. Just as the door opens, I slip behind the side, flattening myself against the wall as much as I can, hoping and praying that I’m not visible from this position.
Holding my breath, my lungs burn for air. I expect the overhead light to come on, but instead, a soft click sounds and the lamp on the desk turns on illuminating only half the room with a faint glow of light leaving where I am bathed in darkness.
It only takes a second for my eyes to adjust, and when I see Shelby and my father together, I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stifle the gasp trying to break free.
“We have to be quiet, if Harlow hears, then we’re both screwed.”
Shelby smiles, devilishly, “You’re screwed either way.”
Oh, my god. My father is having an affair with my best friend. The person he was meeting at the hotel was Shelby. I watch horrified as they kiss, my father lifts her up and places her ass against the desk before pushing up her dress. She didn’t even change; she’s still wearing the same dress that she wore to the rehearsal dinner.
“Shut up and let me fuck you.” My father growls, and Shelby squeals with excitement.
My mother, my poor mother. I wonder if she knows. I can feel the bile burning up my throat as I squeeze my eyes shut while they start to screw each other. The sounds they make together make my ears bleed, and I do my best to remain silent through it all.
The betrayal is like a dull knife cutting through my chest, and I know there is no coming back from this.
I can’t believe them. That Shelby betrayed me, that my father is having an affair with my best friend. I can’t believe it. Everything I discovered tonight weighs heavily on my shoulders. My father and Shelby. The mysterious letters and photos. It feels like I’m suffocating, drowning in all the lies that seem to surround me.
I have to find a way out of this mess, out of my father’s life.
I have to escape. Break free. I did it once before, and I’ll do it again.
I wait for Shelby and my father to finish.
“She can never know about this. Keep your mouth shut, and your legs closed or there will be consequences, do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Shelby answers softly. In her eyes, I see love for my father, and that makes me sick, so fucking sick. They leave the room a few moments later, and I remain standing, barely holding myself together.
Time ticks by slowly, and eventually, I pull myself together and escape the room, listening for footsteps, or any noises as I head down the hall and back toward my room. I’ve barely made it five feet when a cloth-covered hand comes out of nowhere and presses against my mouth and nose. A scream catches in my throat, and I struggle helplessly as a thick arm wraps around my middle, pulling me back against a wall of muscle.
Oh, god, no, this can’t be happening again.
“Shhh, it’s going to be okay,” a voice whispers in my ear, but I’m too far gone, drifting off into the darkness, to tell if it’s a familiar voice or not.
Book Three
31
Slowly my eyes flutter open, but I can barely see anything. I’m immersed in darkness. It takes me a moment before I realize that I’m in the back seat of a moving car, my face sticking to the leather. The car takes a sharp turn, and my head lolls to the side. Ugh. It feels like my skull’s been stuffed with cotton balls. My thoughts a blurred mess like I’m looking through a puddle of water that’s mixed with mud, I can’t figure out how I
got here.
A wave of nausea overcomes me, my stomach churning like I’m on a roller coaster. I’ve never gotten car sick before, but right now, I could blow chunks. Slowly my thoughts return, and as I roll over on the seat, I’m reminded that someone put a cloth over my mouth… that someone drugged and kidnapped me.
Jackknifing in the seat, my vision blurs at the fast movement, and bile rises up my throat. Sucking air in through my nose, I get the nausea to fade away, and after a few more seconds pass, my vision fully clears, and I can make out the person in the driver’s seat.
What the hell?
“Ber… ah, I mean… Milton? What the hell are you doing?”
His eyes find mine in the rearview mirror, “I’m really sorry, Harlow, but you weren’t safe at the house, and it’s my job to keep you safe.” His eyes fall back to the road. There isn’t an ounce of remorse or regret in his voice, and I have to wonder how sane he is right now.
Is this a joke? Some sick twisted bullshit my father is doing.
“So, you drugged and kidnapped me to keep me safe? Seems like the opposite if you ask me!” I try to keep my voice even, but patience escapes me, and it comes out as a yell.
“I’m sorry about the chloroform, but I needed to get you out of the house fast, and I knew you wouldn’t have come with me willingly,” he explains further.
He is right about that, I wouldn’t have come with him because by leaving I’m endangering the people I love, but Milton doesn’t know that, or if he does, he doesn’t care. My gaze swings around the blacked-out SUV and then out the window. It’s so dark, I can’t make out where we’re headed.
“Why do you think I wasn’t safe at the house?”
The Bayshore Rivals: The Entier Series Page 29