The woman’s statements were the catalyst for my thoughts.
She’d said I was nothing, no one.
Perhaps to some people it could appear so. Those weren’t people who mattered.
Even during those difficult times, I never felt as though I was no one. I was Lorna Pierce. I was a sister, granddaughter, daughter, and a girl, turned teenager, turned woman. I was a friend and a wife.
The woman had been scarily accurate in my biography. My jobs had been menial.
That didn’t make them less.
I worked hard.
I never expected anyone to hand me success. Even when Mason would send me money from the service, I saved, not spending more than necessary. When he brought me to the tower, I refused to be a freeloader. The men had their work that kept them busy for hours late into the night and early into the morning. The tasks I took on weren’t earthshaking.
I cooked.
I cleaned.
I did my best to make the tower a home for all of us.
Memories filled my head from years ago.
And then there was the missing piece of her interrogation.
My husband, Reid Murray.
Did she know about him?
How could she not?
Yet she referred to me as Pierce not Murray.
My husband had never made me feel like a no one.
From the night we first met, he treated me with love, respect, and sincerity. In the midst of some of the darkest times, he held my hand and lifted me up. My mind went to the other men in the tower—Mason, Sparrow, and Patrick.
I thought about the other things the woman had said, about Laurel and Araneae.
How could I dislike them for their upbringing?
Wouldn’t that be the same as if they disliked me for mine?
We all came from different backgrounds. That’s what made us stronger not weaker.
I may not have the degrees Laurel had, the business savvy Araneae had, or the ingenuity Madeline had, but I realized, sitting on the bunk by myself, that I had something that the awful woman didn’t have. I had friends. I had a family made out of love and respect. I would not give that up. I would not offer one of my friends as a sacrifice.
What the hell did she think this was?
It wasn’t Sophie’s Choice.
I peered around the room.
Clearly, I was at a disadvantage, but at that moment, I didn’t care.
I wouldn’t give up either of them.
Wrapping the blanket from the top bunk around me, I laid my head on the pillow and closed my eyes. I’d dream of safety and believe that Araneae was safe and that my safety was about to transpire.
There was no way to judge time. It was difficult enough while sleeping. Add no windows, no change in lighting, and no sense of day or night and the task was impossible.
Maybe ten minutes passed. Perhaps it was four hours or six. I didn’t know.
I woke with a start, sitting up near the wall, and pulling my knees to my chest. I’d slept long enough to fill my bladder. That could wait as the door was opening.
“Good morning, Lorna,” the woman said. Jet was at her heels, his arms crossed over his chest. “Time is up. I need your answer.”
Lorna
Nine years ago
With a blanket over my legs, I lay in the corner of our new sofa surrounded by colorful pillows as I read an out-of-print book I’d recently found at a secondhand shop, My Life as it Didn’t Appear. I’d been curious about it since I’d met the subject at a debutante party in New York. While I’d attended the party as a favor to Mason, that night proved pivotal in changing the course of my life.
Reading this book, I realized other people’s lives can turn on a dime too. It was hard to imagine that the beautiful woman I’d met was the same person who described being kidnapped by a wealthy man and taken to his home.
A knock on the door of our apartment pulled me from my reverie. A quick check of the clock told me that it was nearly nine at night. I had no idea of the particulars involved, but as soon as Reid and I finished dinner, he hurried back to 2. It was the floor between the apartments and 1, where our wedding took place.
It was where Reid spent an abundance of his time.
Laying the blanket on the sofa, I peered down at my blue jeans and shirt. I wasn’t dressed for company, but there were few options in this tower. I expected to open the door to find Patrick. It was my experience that Mr. Sparrow chose not to frequent this floor.
The knock came again.
“Coming,” I called as I hurried toward the door.
My breath caught and my neck straightened as I opened the door to be met by dark eyes and a foreboding expression. I’d been wrong. This wasn’t Patrick. With the exception of my wedding day, Sparrow had done his best to avoid speaking to me. “Mr. Sparrow? Reid isn’t here.”
“I know that. I found this in the kitchen of the penthouse,” he said, holding an envelope forward.
It was one I recognized right away. It was the one I’d found on Mason’s kitchen counter, the one filled with United States and British currency.
“Yes, sir, I wasn’t sure how to give it back to you.”
Sparrow took a step back into the common area and ran his free hand through his hair. When he looked back, his eyes were darker than before, filled with emotions I wasn’t certain I would—if I could—identify. From the way his body tensed, I didn’t think he wanted to acknowledge them either.
“We need to...we should talk.”
I held tightly to the door with one hand and the jamb with the other. Loosening my grip, I took a small step backward. “You’re welcome to come in.” When he didn’t answer, I added, “It’s your place.”
“No, Lorna, it’s Reid’s...and yours. Don’t ever confuse that again.”
Unsure how to respond, I nodded.
“Come upstairs.” He turned toward the elevators.
My feet remained planted to the floor beneath them. When he looked back, I struggled for a response.
“Lorna.”
“Mr. Sparrow, maybe when Reid gets back here? Or I could call him.”
He let out a long sigh and came back toward me. “I’m not your enemy.”
I was back between the door and jamb. It wasn’t as reassuring as my brother on one side and my husband on the other, but it was all I had. “No, sir. You’re not and I know that. I meant what I said before; thank you for the wedding. It was more than I could have imagined.”
“I’m not good at some things,” he said.
It was a small bit of humility, more than I’d ever heard or seen from him in the past. Sterling Sparrow was always in control, always the one with the answers. He didn’t apologize because in his eyes he was always right. This admission might have seemed insignificant to others, but not to me. In this short time, I recognized it for the monumental statement it was.
“I’d like to talk to you in my office upstairs. Can you do that?” He waited and finally added. “Please.”
I looked down at my sock-covered feet and when I looked up, I nodded. “Yes, I can. If you don’t mind, I’ll put on some shoes and be right up.”
Without another word, he nodded and headed toward the elevator.
Closing the door, with my nerves already in tatters, I contemplated what he wanted to say. Resigned to my commitment to follow him, I hurried toward our bedroom closet in search of footwear. As I slipped my feet into a pair of flats, I decided whatever it was that he wanted to say, I could rule out another attempt to persuade me to leave, but then again, I couldn’t be sure of anything.
When I stepped back into the common area, the envelope he’d held was lying on one of the sofas. My name was still on the outside as it had been when I first saw it. Shaking my head, I picked it up and stuffed it in the back pocket of my blue jeans.
I pushed the button for the elevator and waited, too nervous to give the near future too much thought. I could text Reid and tell him where I was going, where I’d been
invited, but somehow that felt like a violation of whatever trust Mr. Sparrow had bestowed to me. If Mr. Sparrow had wanted Reid with me, he wouldn’t have come to the apartment when he knew Reid was gone.
Once inside the elevator, I pushed the P. It was the button that would take me to Mr. Sparrow’s penthouse. While the apartment floor had been divided into three apartments for Mason, Patrick, and Reid, there were two floors above that made up the penthouse. In the few months I’d been here, I jokingly referred to it to Reid as Sparrow’s castle in the sky.
The entire penthouse was sleek and lavish with modern yet rich decor. The feel was light and open, not ostentatious as it could be, but elegant yet comfortable. His decorator must have convinced him that the floor-to-ceiling windows were the correct focal point. Everything was top of the line, from the appliances in the kitchen, to the fixtures throughout and the artwork upon the walls. While I’d seen most of the first floor, I had never entered his private office. I did, however, know where it was located.
The elevator stopped and the doors opened to a hallway. I stepped out onto the marble floor and looked both directions. If I went to the left, the hallway would take me to the front of the apartment, the location of the main entry that no one used. It would also take me to the large staircase leading to the second floor. If I continued on, I’d find a large kitchen, sitting rooms, a dining room, and more.
Taking a breath, I turned right. Despite the elegant sconces upon the walls that illuminated my path with warm golden light, my skin chilled. The small hairs on my arms stood to attention, and my steps slowed as I approached the partially closed door.
Taking a deep breath, I lifted my hand to knock. Before I could, I was bid entrance.
“Come in, Lorna.”
I pushed the tall door aside and stepped inside.
Like most of the tower, Mr. Sparrow’s office had the stunning floor-to-ceiling windows. Despite the darkening sky and twinkling lights beyond the large panes, they didn’t capture my attention, not as much as the man who had invited me here.
Mr. Sparrow was seated behind a large wooden desk with ornate carvings. Compared to the rest of the apartment’s furnishings, including the others in this office, it seemed ostentatious and out of place.
The desk did, not the man behind it.
Mr. Sparrow tipped his chin toward the two plushy upholstered accent chairs opposite the desk. “Have a seat.”
Before sitting, I removed the envelope with the currencies and placed it on his desk. When he didn’t speak, I did as he asked, sitting near the edge of one of the chairs. I couldn’t pinpoint the reason for my posture. Maybe I was poised and ready to run back to the floor below.
Truly, with the way my heart thumped erratically in my chest, I wasn’t certain of my next move.
After I was seated, he spoke, “That money is yours. It was given to you.”
I gripped the chair’s arms, bracing myself to respond. “Thank you. I believe it was given in expectation of my departure. I didn’t leave. Therefore, the money isn’t mine.”
Sparrow leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk before him. His jaw clenched as he stared my direction. Moments passed. His fingers intertwined until they loosened, and his arms folded one over the other on the desk’s surface. I imagined the ticking of a clock. Maybe it wasn’t my imagination. Hell, there could be a clock, a grandfather clock or a mantel clock. I wasn’t sure, and I was too nervous to peer about. Finally, he spoke, “That expectation has been replaced by others.”
“The expectation for me to leave?” I asked, clarifying.
Sparrow pushed back his chair and stood in one fluid move. He took a few steps as he spoke, “Lorna, since your arrival, I have been busy. There were and are more things happening than I could possibly articulate. Due to those preoccupations, I believe I have been” —he stopped walking and looked directly at me— “aloof.”
My lips came together, wondering if I should agree or suggest more descriptive adjectives.
He asked, “What do you know about me?”
Lorna
Nine years ago
Mr. Sparrow’s question lingered in the air as I searched for words, knowing that my brother’s name was no longer welcome in conversation while simultaneously wondering how honest Mr. Sparrow expected me to be. “I know you met...everyone while in the army.” I chose the word as a way to include my brother.
Sparrow nodded.
“I know that you’re the heir to Sparrow Enterprises.”
He nodded again.
“I know that after your father died, your mission as well as the others’ has been to seamlessly take over his dealings.”
Mr. Sparrow gripped the back of his chair. “And you learned all of this from...?”
I shrugged. “Everyone.” I thought about that. “Not so much Patrick. And everyone never gave me specifics. I was given enough pieces that I put it together. Am I wrong?”
Sparrow stepped away from the desk and walked toward the windows. “Your assessment isn’t inaccurate.” He turned back toward me. “I had everything planned.”
My mouth grew dry.
“Nothing” —he looked around the room and out to the city— “...was left to chance. I’m a very particular planner down to the minutest detail.”
“Except for me,” I said. “I wasn’t planned.”
His dark eyes met mine. “Not entirely. You weren’t in my plans. The thing is, if I try to think back, you were planned by him. He’d never hidden the fact he had a sister whom he cared about. Out of all of us, he was the one with a real connection. I didn’t try to understand—or take the time to consider—that his love and concern would affect me in any way.”
I swallowed the emotions he was evoking.
“When he brought you here, I told myself it was temporary.”
I began to stand. “Mr. Sparrow—”
He lifted his hand, stopping me. He waited.
With an exhale, I resumed my seat.
“The plan I made for you in England,” he said, “wasn’t done in haste or out of malice. It wasn’t a bad offer.”
My head shook. “No, it wasn’t.”
His gaze went to the envelope on his desk before returning to me. “You’re here now, and I have wrestled with how we can make it work.”
“You don’t want me to leave?” I asked.
“This isn’t about wanting or not wanting. You aren’t leaving.”
“But you—”
“Lorna,” he interrupted, “even if I could forget that you’re his sister, I can’t forget that you’re now Reid’s wife. My detailed plans of the future involve your husband. I’m sure you know that he is a genius when it comes to all things technological. His ability is unmatched, not only in what he knows, but what he’s able to learn in a short time. I saw it when we fought for our country. I watched him under duress. I saw his honor and commitment. I was fortunate enough to be considered his friend. Through that time, I knew without a doubt that Reid would be an invaluable asset to my plans. I don’t want to consider the need to replace his skills.”
Replace Reid?
“He doesn’t—I don’t believe he wants—to be replaced.”
Sparrow’s chin came up and the hint of a smile came to his lips. “That’s nice to hear. He told me something different.”
I stood. “He said he wants to leave you and the Sparrow organization?”
“No,” Mr. Sparrow clarified. “He said he would leave if you did.”
I thought for a moment. “That makes me, what, the consolation prize?”
“No, Lorna. This isn’t about what you are. It’s about my eyes opening and accepting that sometimes plans change. I don’t fucking welcome change, but that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t stop it from happening. My choice is to accept it or risk greater loss. My role in...all of this...is to lead. If I can’t accept that my friend found a person he loves, it makes me a shitty leader. If that’s the case, everyone should leave.”
There wa
s something about Reid telling Mr. Sparrow he loved me that made me smile. “I love him too, every day more than the last. I suppose it could look like I’m an opportunist—”
“Because you chose a life of danger, a life of secrets, and a life that will include isolation? What part of that was an opportunity for you?” He lifted his arm toward the window. “You were given a golden ticket to get the fuck away from here and” —he looked back at me— “you didn’t choose the freedom of a new life. Hell, you chose love. That doesn’t make you an opportunist, Lorna, perhaps a martyr.”
“No, Mr. Sparrow. Being with Reid isn’t a hardship.”
Sparrow nodded and looked down at a chess set sitting on a round table between two chairs similar to the one I’d been sitting in. When he looked up, his gaze was again dark and clouded with emotions. “This chess set is never to be moved.”
“Okay.”
“I trust very few people.”
I nodded.
“I don’t know you well enough to make an informed decision. I trust Patrick and Reid with my life and have. I also trusted your brother. He trusted me, and I let him down.”
I wanted to interject, to tell Mr. Sparrow that he hadn’t let Mason down, but I couldn’t make the words form as Sparrow continued speaking.
“The thing is, by trusting them it means I should trust their intuition. You had and have their trust. The most vulnerable a man can be is in sleep, and for the last few months, you’ve been beside Reid in his slumber. That’s the kind of trust that isn’t earned easily.” He walked back to his desk chair and spun it toward him. “I can’t ask you to trust me. You don’t know me, not really. And what you do know or should know is that I let your brother down in the most grievous way.”
“Why do you want me to trust you?”
He let out a long breath. “Because this...this tower was constructed to house the people who mean the most to me and to Sparrow. I will spare you the details, but when it comes to creating a home-like environment, I’m at a complete loss. Before” —he feigned a grin— “when we all moved in here, we were finding our way in both the takeover and in our assigned space.
Dusk Page 14
