Heartbreaker

by Joanne Rock

  Nine

  Elena awoke to warm sunlight on her face, her body pleasantly aching and thoroughly sated. Memories of the evening before swirled through her mind, from the first kiss in the kitchen to a late-night refrigerator raid and lovemaking in front of the fireplace.

  Now, reaching for Gage, she felt empty air on his side of the bed. And flowers? Wrenching her eyes open, Elena discovered a pool of pink rose petals on Gage’s pillow, trailing to the floor of the suite. There was also a note on the resort’s stationery propped against the fluffy down, two words written in a sure, masculine hand.

  Join me.

  The rose petals led out the door.

  Anticipation hummed warm in her veins even though they’d rolled in these very sheets together just a couple of hours ago. What was it about this man that captivated her so thoroughly? Sliding from the covers, she set her feet on the floor and padded to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Afterward, she found one of Gage’s clean T-shirts folded neatly in the top drawer of a bureau, and slipped it on.

  She hoped things wouldn’t turn awkward between them now that the sun had risen. But she knew inevitably they would because she hadn’t told him the truth about what had happened between them six years ago when they broke up. Trust hadn’t come easily for either of them then, and it wouldn’t return now in light of the way they’d treated each other—red-hot encounters notwithstanding.

  For just a little while longer, though, she would live in the moment. Take all the joy she could from this time together.

  Grabbing one of the resort robes from a hook in the bathroom, Elena slid it over Gage’s shirt and followed the trail of pink petals out of the master suite. She wound an elastic around her hair and scooped up a handful of the rose remnants from the hardwood, bringing them to her nose for a sniff. Her mother had taught her that—take time to smell the roses. She didn’t have many good memories of her mom, but it helped to hug close the ones that weren’t tainted by her parents’ drinking. Fighting. When her mom abandoned the family, it had eliminated the arguments that too often turned to violence, but the hole she left behind had been too big to fill no matter what Elena tried to put there. Work. Ambition. Relationships.

  It was simpler to just smell the roses and savor the present, especially since Elena couldn’t change the past. Hiding it hadn’t worked with Gage’s family. And altering herself to fit into Tomas’s life had been foolish.

  From now on, she was embracing the journey that had made her the woman she was today. As she made her way through the family room, she saw that the petal path led through the double doors leading out to a patio overlooking the lake. She stepped outside to find a bubbling hot tub steaming white puffs into the cool mountain air.

  Gage sprawled in the far corner, his arms spread wide along the edges of the tub, ropes of muscle drawing her eye, the black ink of his tattoos shiny and wet. Her personal Poseidon.

  “Good morning, lovely.” His New Zealand accent wrapped around her ears, the words as unhurried as his gaze. “I thought you might like a soak to start the day. The view isn’t bad, either.”

  He nodded toward the lake visible through the trees, the mountains in the distance still capped with snow even though spring buds were visible on nearby branches. But she preferred the view of Gage’s naked chest rising from the water.

  “As it happens, I might have a few muscles that would benefit from the pulsating jets.” She slid off the robe, setting it on the wooden bench that wrapped two sides of the tub. She reached for the hem of the T-shirt, then hesitated. “What would you rate the level of privacy out here?” She peered around.

  Gage’s pupils darkened with satisfying speed. “Maybe for my sanity you should keep the T-shirt on.”

  “As you wish.” Elena stepped over the edge of the partially sunken tub, then tucked the end of her ponytail through the elastic to keep her hair out of the water before she sank into one of the seats. “How did you sleep?”

  “Did we sleep?” He reached for a towel at the edge of the tub and dried his hands before grabbing his phone. “Let me just send a text for room service to set up breakfast while we’re out here.”

  Elena waited, appreciating Gage’s thoughtful efficiency. But as she took in the luxury of their surroundings, she realized the sharp contrast in their lifestyles. She knew that Gage’s level of wealth was even more staggering than when they’d dated before. More daunting. A private jet brought him where he wanted to go. Catered meals appeared with a text. Expensive vehicles and exotic vacation destinations were the norm while Elena had worked her way up from virtually nothing. People like Gage’s parents would always view her past as a liability, an unfair burden for their son. And although she liked her life just fine, she would always be an outsider in Gage’s privileged world.

  Tipping her head back to breathe in the mountain air, she closed her eyes and soaked up the sensations of the jets against her shoulders. Bubbles burst at the surface, spraying her face with a light mist. Birds called to one another in the nearby trees, a boat motor sounding in the lake below. The hot tub water sloshed side to side as she heard Gage settle deeper into the spa a moment before his palms landed on her waist through the wet shirt, his fingers wrapping around her hip.

  She didn’t open her eyes, simply feeling him come closer as he repositioned himself next to her. His thigh brushed hers and her body stirred, still hungry for him.

  “How do you want to spend your day?” He spoke into her ear, the sound giving her shivers before he kissed her neck. “Keeping in mind I want to spoil you.”

  The temptation to lose herself in his touch nearly overwhelmed her. But how long could they indulge this attraction before they addressed the inevitable problems that came with it?

  Starting with the fact that she’d let him believe she’d accepted his father’s bribe all those years ago. The thought felt like a bucket of cold water despite the heat of the spa tub.

  “We should probably talk first.” Sitting up straighter, Elena opened her eyes. “Last night happened so fast.”

  Easing back, Gage looked wary. Water droplets clung to the bristles along his jaw. “What’s there to discuss? Last night was a gift. Today can be, too, if we let it.”

  The temptation to defer an unhappy conversation was strong, but she’d gone that route before and lived to regret it.

  She swiped away a damp strand of hair that came loose from her elastic.

  “Six years ago, I let myself get caught up in the idea of living in the moment so much that I never acknowledged my past.” She hadn’t wanted to taint Gage’s opinion of her, so she’d kept it to herself that her father was a wanted man. “And when you finally learned the truth about my family, you didn’t learn it from me. I’m not making that mistake again.”

  The warmth in Gage’s dark eyes cooled, his expression growing distant as he leaned back against the hot tub wall. His gaze turned assessing.

  “Meaning you’re keeping more secrets from me?” he asked.

  Guilt stung. She didn’t know how else to broach the subject, so without preamble, she admitted, “I never took the bribe your father offered me.”

  His dark eyebrows lifted in surprise for a moment, then swooped low in a scowl. “What are you talking about?”

  “That day in New Zealand with your family,” she began slowly, remembering the waves of pain she’d felt from Nigel Striker’s cruel words, followed by Gage’s automatic assumptions regarding her character. “I was devastated by your father’s dismissal of me from your life when I believed...” She’d thought Gage had brought her home to propose. The turn things had taken had been so far off course from what she’d envisioned she hadn’t weathered the storm well at all. “When I’d thought things were going so well between us.”

  “You weren’t the only one devastated, Elena.” The flash of pain she saw in his eyes was all too real, and it hurt to know that she could have les
sened that ache if she’d reacted differently. “My father was merciless in characterizing you as secretive and deceptive about your past. But none of it would have mattered if you hadn’t jumped at the chance to take a lucrative detour out of my life.”

  Had she always known that? Had she subconsciously sabotaged things between them even more than Nigel Striker tried to do? The humming of the hot tub motor seemed to grow louder in her ears, or maybe it was the buzzing of a guilty conscience.

  “I didn’t take the bribe, Gage. I ripped up the check and threw it at his retreating back.” She sat forward on the hot tub bench seat, not feeling at all relaxed despite the rush of the jets on her shoulders.

  Gage shook his head in disbelief. “You led me to think you took it.”

  She bit her lip. “You immediately assumed I had.”

  “So you lied to me?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, regretting her temper as the buzzing in her ears grew louder. Yes.

  “I was hurt and angry,” she explained. “And I figured you’d learn the truth eventually—”

  “Six years later?” There was no way to miss the growing anger—and yes, disillusionment—in his voice. “When it doesn’t matter anymore? After you married someone else?”

  The buzzing sound almost drowned out Gage’s words, and Elena turned to see a four-wheeler bump over a ridge and onto the lawn from the tree line.

  With a curse of frustration, Gage was on his feet instantly, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around himself as the rider came into view. Desmond Pierce had sharp, aristocratic features like she envisioned on a Mediterranean prince. As he rolled to a stop near the edge of the deck, Elena could see his cool gray eyes as he met Gage’s stare.

  “What’s wrong?” Gage asked, still dripping wet as he tied the towel around his waist and stepped up onto the deck.

  Desmond’s eyes shifted to her briefly before they moved back to Gage.

  “News from Weston. We need to meet this afternoon if you can be at the casino by midday. I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.” Then the man turned to her once more, his posture relaxing somewhat now that his important news was, apparently, delivered. “Sorry to interrupt your morning. I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Desmond Pierce.”

  “Elena Rollins,” she said, frustrated and relieved all at once to have her conversation with Gage end abruptly. She knew his ranch partners would take precedence over her, especially in light of what she’d just confessed to him. “And I’ll go get dressed so the two of you can speak privately.”

  She was about to stand up, awkwardly reaching for the robe since she wore nothing beneath Gage’s T-shirt, but Gage already had a towel outstretched for her.

  “We’ll continue our conversation later,” Gage spoke to her in low tones, his voice warm against her neck as he draped the towel around her.

  “I’m not sure there’s much more to say.” They’d both made mistakes that had led them to this point. There was no going back to change them now. “I’d be more interested to hear what Desmond has to share with you. I’ll bet anything it has to do with Alonzo Salazar.”

  Gage didn’t bother to deny it. He retrieved her robe before setting it on her shoulders.

  “Lucky for you,” he said as his hands lingered on her upper arms, bringing memories of their night together flaming from her mind through her body, “you have a whole new story to cover that will be far more lucrative than whatever you might dig up on my former mentor.” He gave her a meaningful squeeze, eyes flaming with heat, then opened the French doors leading back into the house for her. “I’ll finish up as soon as I can here.”

  Closing the door behind her, Elena didn’t linger in the great room. She darted past the breakfast area where the catering staff were arranging the table for their meal, then took refuge in a hot shower to try to figure out what to do next.

  She wanted to accept Gage’s olive branch—the Chiara Campagna introduction—and forget about Alonzo Salazar. Except what if Gage’s former mentor was the same caliber of father figure as Gage’s actual dad? What if Alonzo had been a man without scruples, driven to achieve his own ends no matter the cost?

  It bugged her to think of letting a man like that get away with bending the world to his will. But for today—for Gage—she’d call Chiara and see about setting up another meeting instead. Maybe focusing on her career and her future would help her to forget about the knot of emotions she felt for Gage.

  * * *

  Ruminating over the view of Lake Tahoe out the window of her luxury hotel suite, Chiara Campagna hurried to pick up the call when she spotted Elena Rollins’s number on her caller ID.

  “Hello, Elena,” she answered, needing to make the woman feel at ease with her. “I hope we’re going to hang out today while we’re both still in Tahoe.”

  She regretted manipulating someone as genuinely nice as Elena seemed, but she couldn’t afford to lose this chance to find out what information Elena had gathered for her story on Alonzo Salazar and how the Mesa Falls Ranch owners were involved. Those six men knew more about Zach’s death than they admitted, and Chiara would never get to the bottom of it without stirring the pot.

  Starting with Elena.

  “As a matter of fact, I’m free for a few hours. Gage is meeting with Jonah and Desmond Pierce at the casino this afternoon, so I thought I’d see if you and Astrid wanted to see the sights.”

  “Astrid sounded wiped out when I talked to her this morning.” She stretched the truth a bit, but she didn’t want to share Elena with Astrid, especially when she needed to pump Elena for information about the Mesa Falls owners. Even though Astrid’s husband was one of the owners, too, Chiara had never gotten the impression Jonah had been as close with Zach as Gage Striker. They’d been roommates at school.

  “Why don’t you and I meet at the casino for drinks?” That would put them in close proximity to where the secretive ranch owners would be getting together.

  “You don’t get swarmed by fans at places like that?” Elena asked curiously.

  “I’ll have my secretary call ahead to make sure we have some space to ourselves.” Ideally, somewhere close to the meeting among Gage, Jonah and Desmond. She didn’t have a plan for crashing it, but being nearby like that might yield an opportunity to find out more.

  “Sounds good,” Elena said warmly. “I’m so grateful for the help you’ve already given me, Chiara. I don’t know how I can repay you.”

  Chiara had seen the way Elena’s followers jumped after her posts the day before. Ideally, Elena’s gratitude would make it tough for her to turn Chiara down when she asked for some favors in return.

  “It’s my pleasure to tout talented friends,” she told her honestly, typing a list of questions she wanted answered about Gage’s partners. “Although I assure you, the big following comes with as many heartaches as joys.”

  Not that anyone ever believed her about that. But as far as she was concerned, the view from the top of the social media world was a study in terror. The only direction to go was down. For Chiara, the question every day became, would she fall fast in a stomach-churning nosedive? Or would her decline be a slow and steady destruction of everything she’d earned these last few years?

  If her time as reigning social media queen was coming to an end, it was all the more reason to hasten her search for answers about Zach. Whatever power she possessed, she was going to leverage it for the sake of the truth.

  “That’s the story of my life, Chiara,” Elena admitted drily. “Just when the joys become their most wonderful, heartache kicks in. I’m still glad for the boost.”

  “It’s no trouble at all.” Chiara was already calculating how fast she could get out the door so she’d be there during the owners’ meeting. “I can meet you at the casino anytime after noon. We can hit the shops and talk over lunch.”

  “I’ll message you
when I’m there,” Elena promised before disconnecting the call.

  Rushing to dress, Chiara dictated a few more questions into her phone, including what role Gage Striker’s father might have played in making sure Zach’s death wasn’t reported in school for months afterward.

  She chose a couture pantsuit for spring that a designer had sent her the week before, slipping into the champagne-colored fabric while she texted her hairdresser to fix her blowout. Another perk in her life she didn’t feel worthy of.

  It was probably an unhealthy sign that she couldn’t simply enjoy life as a macro-influencer, raking in big checks for sponsored content and personal appearances. Instead, she lived with constant imposter syndrome, and a nearly crippling fear that she’d make the wrong choice about what to allow on her feed, wondering if the next sponsored post she agreed to share would label her as a sellout to the world.

  Her therapist told her survivor guilt was common in people who’d lost a loved one. Especially when the loved one was someone like Zachary Eldridge, a boy who’d been on track to be a phenomenal artist. His work and friendship had given her all her best ideas for what would one day become her celebrated social media feed—touted as creative and artistic, appealing to multiple sensibilities. Without him, she felt like a fraud.

  Sometimes she hoped for her downfall to come sooner rather than later. Because maybe then, when she wasn’t on top of the world, she wouldn’t battle the sensation that she didn’t belong there every single day.

  * * *

  Gage paced the high-roller suite in Desmond’s casino. He knew whatever Weston Rivera had reported to Desmond, the news was important if it warranted a meeting. He’d been the first to arrive, and one of the resort’s support staff was still in the suite to ensure the hookups were live for a video conference with Miles, Weston and Alec, the partners who couldn’t attend in person.

  Pausing by the billiard table in the middle of the suite, Gage rolled the cue ball back and forth between his palms. The lake glittered bright blue outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, while indoors the fire in a smooth stone hearth warmed the room. A wooden bar cart had been rolled in from the wine cellar containing a few select bottles and—thankfully—Gage’s preferred bourbon.