Seduction on His Terms

by Sarah M. Anderson

  “You’ve served me for years,” he replied, pleased to see that his hands weren’t shaking. Surgeon’s hands should always be steady. “It’s my turn to serve you.”

  He saw her smile, but she didn’t look at him. Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on the lake.

  Robert topped up her glass and then poured a healthy glass for himself because he could use a drink, he realized. Then he put a little chicken on a dish. He wasn’t hungry. He rarely ate lunch. But moving around the terrace gave him something to do.

  Normally, Robert was fine with silence. He worked in silence. He read at night with nothing but the faint sounds of the city wafting through his terrace doors. He was old friends with quiet.

  But at this exact moment, the fact that Jeannie wasn’t talking bothered him.

  He pushed his food around his plate. She ate silently. They both drank their wine.

  “You can talk now,” he finally blurted out, feeling ridiculous.

  “No,” she said slowly, “I’ve already said my piece. It’s your turn.”

  He forced himself to breathe slowly, to keep his pulse from running away. He was just...overwhelmed by the new sensations, that was all. He’d never dined with company on the terrace. Never shared his view with anyone. Never brought someone to his bed. Never let his arms be tied.

  It was a lot to take in. That was all.

  Then he was talking. Words flowed out of his mouth as easily as wine flowed from the bottle. “Something changed when I was fourteen,” he was horrified to hear himself say. But it was too late. The bottle had been smashed and he couldn’t contain the spill. Not around her. Not anymore. “I grew, I guess. He called me into his office. It was never good, being called down. Always bad.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her grip tighten on her glass. But all she said was, “Oh?” And strangely, that made it easier to keep going because that was what she would’ve said if they’d been at the bar, shielded by the dim lights.

  It was bright out, but the small table stood between them.

  “This time there was a woman there. She...” He swallowed, but kept going. “She wasn’t wearing much. She was pretty.”

  Shame burned through him as he remembered his confusion. He’d been braced for threats, for pain. But not for a woman in a slip and nothing else.

  “He said—” Robert drained his glass “—I was a man now. I needed to know how to treat a woman, how to dominate.”

  Jeannie inhaled sharply. She didn’t say anything, though. And for once, Robert hated the silence.

  “He made me touch her. Kiss her. He wanted me to...” He took a breath, trying to find the words without remembering all the terrible details. “And when I couldn’t...”

  Unexpectedly, Jeannie stood. Before Robert could process what she was doing, she’d plucked his plate and glass from his hand. Wine dripped from his fingertips. He hadn’t realized his hands were shaking.

  She sat sideways in his lap, burying her face against his neck, and it should’ve been awful because he didn’t like to be touched and never talked about why but she was touching him and he was talking.

  He couldn’t stop.

  “He pulled me off the woman and told me to watch. Then he showed me what he wanted me to do.”

  Jeannie’s arms tightened around his neck and he realized he was gathering her closer, holding her like he was afraid she would rip herself away from him.

  He didn’t allow himself to think of that day. He was very good at controlling his reactions, and those memories weren’t allowed.

  But now?

  He remembered everything. The woman’s muffled screams. The way his father had smiled. The familiar guilt that, if he’d only done what Landon had wanted, he might’ve protected her. The realization that he couldn’t protect any woman.

  Only the knowledge that he would’ve been beaten senseless for displaying weakness had kept him from leaving the room.

  “Breathe,” Jeannie whispered against his skin. “It’s okay. I’m here. Just breathe.”

  He wasn’t sure his lungs would ever properly draw in air again. “I told my mother what’d happened. I shouldn’t have because it wasn’t safe. If you were too happy, too sad, too angry—he didn’t like it. But I couldn’t keep it inside. I couldn’t...and she was so mad that she marched into his office, screaming and throwing things and...”

  And Landon had exacted his revenge in a thousand small cuts. He’d been exacting that revenge with interest over the past three years, no doubt.

  “Did it ever happen again?” Jeannie asked softly.

  Out on the lake, a speedboat raced through his view and was gone. “Not right away.” His mother’s anger had somehow bought Robert a few months of grace.

  “Oh, Robert.” Something wet and warm ran over his skin as she held him. She didn’t push him aside, didn’t look at him with disgust. “What did your mom do after the next time?”

  “I didn’t tell her.” Robert hadn’t been willing to risk his mother. So he’d buried his disgust and horror and tried to be the man Landon wanted.

  He almost laughed. If Landon could’ve seen him a few short minutes ago, tied to the bed and helpless while Jeannie gave him the gift of her tenderness, her touch—the gift of herself—the old man might just have had a stroke.

  Even more so if he heard what Robert was going to say next. “I was overwhelmed when you kissed me. Earlier. I...”

  That kiss had been perfect and terrifying. He’d wanted to never let go of her and he hadn’t been able to leave fast enough and it had not been his finest moment.

  “It’s okay,” she said softly. “I’m fine. I broke the rule. I’m sorry.”

  He pulled her in closer because he liked her there. “Me, too.”

  Oh, how Landon Wyatt would mock him for that apology, even if it barely qualified as such.

  He didn’t know how long they sat there. The sun glittered off his own personal view of the lake. Finally, he heard himself say, “I haven’t seen her in almost three years. My mother, that is.”

  He had no reason to tell Jeannie any of this. What had happened in his bed earlier...that hadn’t come with the obligation that he owed her the truth.

  But he couldn’t stop himself.

  “What happened?” Jeannie asked softly.

  The sun began to dip behind the buildings, casting the sky in deeper shades of gold. No matter what happened—who lived, who died or who walked the fine line between the two states—the sun rose and set every day. It kept going. Just like he did.

  “She wouldn’t stay with me. He’d beaten her badly and I brought her here. But she didn’t trust me to keep her safe. She went back to him and...” He swallowed around the rock lodged in his throat.

  “When was this?”

  “The day I walked into Trenton’s.”

  The day he’d been utterly lost had been the day he’d found Jeannie. It hadn’t been an accident. It couldn’t have been something as random as a coincidence.

  She’d been waiting for him.

  She gasped, drawing air across his throat like a caress.

  “Will you get to see her again?” Her voice wavered and Robert prayed she wouldn’t cry. There was no point to tears. Never had been.

  “That’s why I have to go to the campaign kickoff. He’s using her as bait so I will pretend we’re this perfect happy family.”

  “To lie for him, the asshole.” This time she sounded mad. Strangely, her anger made Robert feel better. “What are you going to do?”

  “If she’ll come, I’ll take her away. Send her where he can’t get to her.”

  Jeannie leaned back. He could tell she was staring up at him, but he couldn’t look at her, couldn’t risk drowning in her brown eyes. He kept staring at the water. “You’re not going to bring her here, are you? You can’t hope that this time she’ll
walk away just because she has a weak spot for tacky wallpaper.”

  He almost smiled because he hadn’t just spilled his deepest, most shameful secrets. He’d told Jeannie. Somehow, that made things better. “Of course not. I’m sending her to New Zealand.” Now he did look down at her. The impact of her watery eyes hit him square in the chest. “That was why I needed to talk to you, the night you weren’t there. I had to see you. I needed...” He brushed her short hair away from her eyes. “I needed to know I was doing the right thing.”

  Because he was technically going to be kidnapping his mother and he didn’t doubt that she might hate him, at least a little. Not to mention Landon might punish him and get Cybil back.

  The man would try.

  But Robert wasn’t a kid anymore. Lawyers, accountants, reporters—all were eager to be a part of what had the potential to be the biggest scandal in Chicago since Al Capone had run this town. And Robert was pulling all the strings.

  It was time Landon knew what Wyatts were truly capable of.

  “You are,” Jeannie said simply. “You’re absolutely doing the right thing, Robert.” She cupped his face in her hands. “What happened before—that was never your fault. And you’re not like him. He didn’t break you, do you understand? You’re stronger than he is. You always were. He knows it, too, I think.”

  Robert’s eyes stung, so he closed them. He wanted desperately to believe what Jeannie said. Wanted to feel the truth of it in his bones.

  But if he was really that strong, he would’ve been able to keep Mom safe all these years. And he hadn’t.

  Jeannie pushed off his lap, pulling him to his feet. Silently, she led him back into his bedroom. For some reason, she stripped him down to his boxers and then pulled her dress over her head. But instead of removing the pretty lingerie she wore, she turned down the sheet and pushed him into bed. He didn’t resist. He couldn’t. Whatever she was doing, he needed it. He needed her. So he made space for her and she climbed in after him, pulling the sheet over them both.

  Then she curled into his side. “I can’t stay to see the stars. Not tonight,” she murmured, her breath warm against his chest. “I have to get back to Melissa.”

  His arms tightened around her even as he forced himself to say, “Of course,” even though he wanted to argue.

  How very odd. He wanted her to stay. All the more so when she threw a bare leg over his, tangling their limbs together. It felt...right. Good, even.

  “But Robert?”

  “Yes?”

  Something warm and soft pressed against his chest. A kiss. One of forgiveness, he hoped. “I won’t let you face him alone.” Before he could process what she could be talking about—because she couldn’t possibly be suggesting that she would voluntarily place herself anywhere near Landon Wyatt—she leaned up on one elbow and stared down at him with a look he couldn’t identify. “I’m coming with you to the kickoff.”

  Eleven

  Jeannie hadn’t seen Robert since he’d walked her to her door three nights ago, kissed the back of her hand like an old-fashioned prince and then been driven off by an absolutely beaming Reginald.

  She knew he was talking to Maja or Rona or both. Like when Maja said, “Dr. Wyatt wants you to make sure you’re getting fresh air, so let me show you how to use this stroller.”

  Or when Rona said, “Dr. Wyatt asked me to make sure you’re enjoying the meals? I can cook other things, as well,” as if anyone would turn down real Filipino cooking, which Rona prepared every other day when she came to tidy the already spotless house and do the laundry. Even the next-day leftovers were fabulous. If Jeannie had been on her own, she would’ve been living on frozen pizza and beer.

  But Robert didn’t ask her how she enjoyed the meals or the walks or the time with Melissa. He didn’t talk to her at all and her texts thanking him for a nice time went unanswered. Which was unnerving. Jeannie knew he was busy—with his practice or Wyatt Medical or making plans for his mother. She refused to think that he was avoiding her because she’d tied him up or kissed him or listened to his secrets. He wasn’t a chatty man to begin with. She could see that he simply wouldn’t know how to strike up a conversation after what they’d shared.

  But after another day of silence passed, she began to wonder if he was trying to keep her from going to the kickoff. And she had no intention of letting him do that.

  So instead of small talk, she went to war over text. And it turned out, he was downright chatty.

  What time on Saturday?

  No.

  Yes. I’m coming with you.

  You are not. It’s not safe for you.

  It’s not safe for you, either.

  Why should you face him alone?

  You need backup.

  Absolutely not. I won’t risk you like that.

  Jeannie smiled at that one, pausing to rub Melissa’s back. They were snuggled up on the couch and the house was silent. Maja wasn’t here. Rona would be back tomorrow. It was just Jeannie and a drowsy infant.

  A week ago this situation would’ve inspired sheer panic, but now? Jeannie let the baby’s warmth sink into her chest as Melissa dozed. She still had no idea how she would handle raising a child when Robert stopped paying a small army of people to help her but she was at least no longer panicking at the thought of holding her niece. As long as Melissa got the right formula and stayed swaddled while she slept, things were better.

  I won’t risk you, either.

  I’m not taking you.

  End of discussion.

  Then I’ll just crash the party.

  No, Jeannie.

  She chuckled softly to herself. She could hear his exasperated tone, see him glowering at his phone. He could get anyone to do anything he wanted with a snap of his fingers and money—anyone but her.

  Yes, she’d talked to Miranda at Trenton’s. Robert had handed over a credit card and rumor had it that Julian had run that sucker for thirty thousand dollars and Robert hadn’t disputed the charge.

  Robert hadn’t been back since. Which was fine by Miranda. She didn’t care how hot and rich Robert was, she wasn’t dealing with him ever again, she’d said. Miranda had related the whole thing in breathless, disbelieving tones but Jeannie believed it all. Thirty thousand was nothing to Robert.

  “He’s freaking terrifying,” Miranda had said.

  Jeannie had just laughed. As far as she could tell, no one at work had any idea that Robert had appointed himself her guardian angel—or that they’d shared a wonderful, messy evening together.

  I *will* crash.

  I’ve been sneaking into parties and clubs since I was 14.

  I’ll show up in my yellow dress and be loud and obnoxious.

  Trust me I’m good at it.

  No.

  You can’t keep me away so just accept that you’re taking me.

  If you take me, you can keep an eye on me.

  Who knows what kind of trouble I’ll get into otherwise?

  Might step on a candidate’s toes or splash red wine on his face.

  Jesus.

  Whoopsie.

  Robert didn’t answer that salvo right away but Jeannie let the space build between them. Melissa grunted in her sleep, warm and perfect and okay. She was seventeen days old today. It’d been ten days since Nicole had died, nine days since Jeannie had brought this baby home and eight days since Robert had turned out to be the star she’d wished upon. Today was the first day Maja wasn’t living in the house full-time.

  The next time Jeannie was at Robert’s house—assuming he invited her back—she wasn’t leaving until she’d seen the night horizon over the lake.

  She could almost see Nicole walking into the small living room, trying her best not to roll her eyes or let fly with a cutting comment about how this was exactly what Jeannie always did—rushing into something way over her
head without thinking.

  “You’re trouble,” Nicole had always said. “And like follows like.”

  When Jeannie had been a little girl, Nicole had hissed it at Jeannie with pure venom, usually seconds before she got Jeannie in trouble. Maybe there’d been a time when Nicole had set Jeannie up—shoving a ruined sweater under Jeannie’s bed and then blaming it on Jeannie.

  All Jeannie could really remember was deciding that if she was going to get into trouble, she was going to earn it.

  After their mom had died and it was just Nicole, still only seventeen, and Jeannie, barely ten, Nicole had kept on saying it. But the hatred had changed, deepened. Now Jeannie could look back and see the pure fear Nicole must have been living with, an unwelcome guest who refused to leave. The same fear Jeannie had been stuck in when she’d wished upon a star.

  Jeannie had kept right on getting into trouble. Parties, boys, alcohol—driving her sister to the breaking point. They’d both been relieved when Jeannie had packed a bag and left.

  Then, when the two of them had finally reconciled, after Nicole had decided she was having a family come hell or high water, Nicole had still said that. Jeannie was still trouble. But now Nicole had said it with almost fondness, and instead of hearing it as an attack, Jeannie heard what Nicole was really saying.

  I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re here. I love you.

  That was how Jeannie chose to remember Nicole. Someone who was complicated, who did the best she could with what she had—a missing dad, a dead mom, a hellion for a sister.

  I’m sorry, Jeannie thought. Hopefully, wherever Nicole was, she would know the truth. I’m glad you were here. I’m doing the best I can. I love you.

  Jeannie’s phone chimed again.

  I can’t allow this.

  Oh, wasn’t that just like the man? If he were in front of her, she’d be hard-pressed to pick between strangling and hugging him. Hell, maybe she’d just tie him to the bed again and work through some of the frustration he inspired.

  He was a very inspiring man.

  It’d been three days since their lunch date. Three days since the unreachable, untouchable Dr. Robert Wyatt had let himself be touched. Since he’d held out his hands for her and she’d ridden him in silence. Since he’d shared his darkest secret.