by Tara Wyatt
Willa would probably freak if she knew that A) he’d bought an engagement ring a month into their relationship and B) he’d dropped $90,000 on it, but he wasn’t planning to propose, like, tomorrow. He’d hang onto it until the time felt right.
Until, say, maybe June. Or July. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to wait much longer than that, even though he was conscious of not driving her away by moving too quickly. He didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize what they had, and he’d do whatever it took to protect it, even if that meant waiting longer than he wanted to tell her he wanted to be with her for the rest of his life.
They walked in comfortable silence, nodding at the other pedestrians walking home from dinner or out for an evening stroll. It was quiet. Peaceful. Serene, with the moon shining and the waves lapping softly against the shore.
“You’re quiet,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. “What are you thinking about?”
“You,” he answered simply.
“What about me?”
“That I love you and you make me happier than I’ve ever been in my life. That you’re beautiful and amazing and I’m the luckiest man on the planet to be with you.”
Her lips twisted into a smile and she squeezed his hand again. “Funny, I was just thinking very similar things about you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mmmhmm. That you make me feel delirious with happiness. That you’re sexy and wonderful and I can’t believe you’re mine.”
He stopped walking and pulled her against him, ghosting his lips over hers in a tease of a kiss. “Believe it, angel.”
“When we get home, can we use that enormous bathtub?” she asked, looking up at him, the moonlight making her eyes glisten just like the stones in her necklace.
“Absolutely.” They started walking again, their pace a bit faster.
Large, white umbrellas fluttered in the light breeze coming in off the ocean, sheltering the beach goers from the sun overhead. The sky was completely clear without a single cloud in the sky, the blue the kind of warm azure only seen in summer, promising a warm day.
The beach was crowded with Memorial Day revelers of all kinds—couples, and families, college kids and groups of friends in their twenties, seniors and babies and everyone in between.
“Help me?” asked Willa, extending a bottle of sunscreen towards him. He took it with a grin, shifting back on his chaise lounge to make room for her to sit in front of him. Sadly, she hadn’t worn the string bikini today, instead opting for a more modest emerald green one piece that tied behind her neck, leaving a large swath of her back exposed. But it was probably for the best. The sight of her in that tiny bikini drove him wild, and if she’d worn it, he probably would’ve been dragging her back to the house within an hour.
She sat down on the chair in front of him and he squirted the sunscreen onto his hands, then started working it into her back, taking his time with it, slipping his fingers under the straps of her bathing suit. She shivered slightly, so he did it again, knowing that when he pulled the straps taut, the suit rubbed against her nipples.
Once he’d fully rubbed in the sunscreen, they traded places so she could do the same for him. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of her small hands sliding up and down his back. His blood heated and his cock started to thicken as he remembered the way they’d moved up and down his back as he’d made love to her this morning, slow and sweet. He’d just had her only a couple of hours ago and already he wanted her again. He had a feeling that this wanting, this hunger, would never subside. And not just because the sex felt incredible, but because being with Willa made him feel whole in a way he’d never experienced before, and it only made him want her more. Want to claim her and love her and connect with her, again and again.
Sunscreen fully applied, she retreated to her chair and pulled a book out of the beach bag. It was a thick fantasy novel, one she’d plucked from the bookshelves in his bedroom back in Manhattan after he’d told her it was one of his favorites. He’d brought a book too, but he didn’t feel like reading right now. He was content to people watch, to stare out at the ocean, to enjoy the freedom of not having anywhere else to be except right here.
And that was how it went for the next hour or so, until Willa set her book down, pushed her sunglasses up onto her head and turned to look at him. “So, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you about.”
“Sure.”
She licked her lips, hesitating, and he sat up, setting his feet in the sand as he faced her. “You can ask me anything, Willa. What’s on your mind?”
She rubbed her fingers over her palm, a movement he knew meant she was nervous. “It’s, um. I keep thinking about it, so I guess I’m just curious…about that necklace. In your office.”
Oh, fuck.
His breath caught in his lungs as adrenaline shot through him. He could feel each heavy throb of his heart in his chest as his mind reeled and spun. He didn’t want to tell her about Sophia and what had happened. He didn’t want her to know about the monster he’d been, didn’t want her to see that side of him. That part of his past. What if he told her and it scared her away? What if he told her and it ruined what they’d found?
No. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to protect what they had. Had to protect her from his past and who he’d once been.
She couldn’t know the truth. He couldn’t handle losing her, and if she knew, she’d run. Any sane woman would.
He forced himself to meet her gaze, his chest tight with guilt. “The necklace. Right.” He cleared his throat, his stomach roiling. “It belonged to someone I dated once. A long time ago.”
“Why do you still have it? Why were you looking at it that night in your office?”
When he’d snarled at her like an asshole to get out. He remembered that night all too well.
“I kept it as a reminder not to hurt people. She gave it back when our relationship ended and I hung on to it to remind myself of the damage I was capable of inflicting.” He sighed, gazing out over the ocean. “And I was looking at it that night because of you, Willa.” At least that part was true.
“Because of me?”
“I was trying to convince myself to stay away from you because I was terrified I was going to hurt you. I was reminding myself of all the ways it could go wrong.”
She rose from her chair and moved to sit down beside him, sliding an arm around his waist and kissing his shoulder. Oh, Christ. He didn’t deserve this sweetness while he lied his ass off. Fuck. Even though the lie was necessary, he still felt like shit for telling it.
“So this other woman that you dated a long time ago…you hurt her? How?”
He swallowed and shook his head. “I couldn’t be what she needed, and I was convinced that I couldn’t be what anyone needed. That there was something broken inside me.”
Her arm around him tightened. “You’re not broken, Max.”
“I know. I know that now.” Another sliver of truth. With Willa, he didn’t feel broken anymore, which was one of the reasons he needed to leave his past buried, where it couldn’t hurt them. Hurt her.
She sighed and leaned into him. “I was worried that maybe you were still hung up on someone and that’s why you’d kept it.”
He shook his head, rubbing his palm up and down her back. “No. That relationship was a very long time ago now. The necklace wasn’t about the woman. It was about me, and how fucking scared I was to be with you.”
Even though he still felt guilty, he could also feel the relief trickling through him that they’d managed to skate around the worst, most damaging part of the story.
“Oh, Max. Come here,” she said, pressing her palm to his cheek and kissing him softly. “You’re not still scared, are you?”
He shook his head. “No, angel. Not anymore.”
“Maybe it’s time you got rid of it,” she suggested. “You could donate it or something. Don’t use it to beat yourself up over something that happened a long time ago.”
His mouth twitched in a half smile and he kissed the top of her head, feeling like he’d dodged a bullet. Feeling like the world’s biggest asshole. “You’re right. I shouldn’t keep it anymore.”
She kissed his cheek. “Thank you for telling me. I know being open isn’t the easiest thing for you.”
Fucking hell. He forced himself to smile at her. “Feel like going for a swim?” She nodded and rose from the chair, and hand in hand they walked into the ocean.
The same ocean Sophia had drowned in eight years ago, because of him. And while the guilt over what had happened was still there, he didn’t believe he was incapable of love, that he was broken anymore. But he had been then. And if Willa found out a woman was dead because of him, she wouldn’t look at him the way anymore. It would change things if she knew the truth.
He’d done what he needed to do to make sure that wouldn’t happen.
18
Willa slipped out of her silky bathrobe, letting it fall to the floor in her bedroom and then stepped into the gown Max had bought for her for the gala. Putting on the dress—the $11,000 Oscar de la Renta he’d insisted she get, even though she’d felt a little sick at how expensive it was—was the final step in getting ready for the evening. Her hair was too short to put up, but she’d had it styled at a salon so it now fell around her jaw in glossy ringlets. Brandon had set her up with one of the makeup artists at Saks, who’d given her a fresh, dewy look.
She pulled the heavy dress with its layers of tulle up over her hips and then slipped her arms through the bodice. The sleeveless dress was navy blue and embellished with gold iridescent beading that looked vaguely like feathers. The top of the dress came up to her neck, but the fabric was sheer from the neck to the bust, making the beading shimmer even more. The skirts swished elegantly as she walked to her bedroom door and pulled it open.
“Dor?” she called. “Could you please help me with this button?” The back of the dress closed with a keyhole button, leaving a large portion of her back exposed.
Dori immediately came running from the kitchen, stopping in her tracks when she saw Willa. “Holy shit. You look like a princess. Or a movie star.”
Willa grinned, flushing at her friend’s compliment. “I feel like one.”
“This dress is gorgeous. The color is perfect on you and the beading is so pretty.”
Willa smoothed her hands over the skirt, turning so Dori could do up the button. “It’s beautiful,” she agreed, feeling a bit like a little girl playing dress up with her mother’s clothes. Playing in a world she didn’t really belong in.
Once Dori had finished with the button, Willa slipped on the necklace Max had given her last weekend and added a pair of simple diamond studs that had been her grandmother’s. She didn’t think she needed anything else given the intricate beading on the dress.
Just then, her phone buzzed and she saw the text message from Max, telling her he was downstairs. Nerves fluttered in her stomach as she replied that she’d be right down.
“You look amazing,” said Dori from behind her. “I want all the details tomorrow. Who was there, what were they wearing, what was the food like, what kind of music did they play? All the details.”
“You got it,” said Willa, slipping her phone into her grayish blue Kate Spade clutch that she’d had for years. She stepped into the strappy gold sandals she’d bought to go with the dress, gave herself one last look in the mirror and then planted a kiss on Dori’s cheek before heading for the elevator.
When she stepped into the lobby, her breath caught in her chest, her heart fluttering wildly at the sight of Max in a simple black tuxedo, his hair styled to give a hint of the curls she loved so much. He looked as though he’d just stepped out of the pages of GQ, all commanding masculine grace. And he was hers.
“Oh, wow,” he said quietly, taking a step towards her. “Willa, God. You look incredible.”
She fisted her hands in her skirt and gave it a swish. “Well, someone incredibly generous splurged on this dress, so…” Warmth spread through her, thick and sweet like honey at the way he was looking at her, rapt. Enthralled.
Like a man very much in love.
Once they were settled in the limo, their fingers interlaced, he turned to her.
“Can I kiss you? I don’t want to mess up your make up if—”
He was still talking when she leaned toward him and pressed her lips to his. He moaned softly and slid an arm around her waist, pulling her closer as he kissed her, his tongue moving against hers. She lost track of time as they kissed slowly, losing herself to the simple joy of his mouth on hers. All too soon, he pulled away, tracing his thumb over her cheekbone.
She grinned at him and smoothed her fingers over his lips, wiping away the lipstick he’d kissed off. Once she’d reapplied, she leaned into him, her nervous anticipation settling into something gentler.
I want to marry this man.
The thought charged through her, making her heart slam against her ribs. But now that it had surfaced, she knew that it was true. Which was crazy because they’d only been dating for…what? Five weeks? Way too soon to be thinking about marriage.
And yet, here she was. Knowing she wanted to marry Max. Someday.
Tomorrow.
Oh, God. That was true, too, she realized. If he asked her right now, she’d say yes.
The limo joined the queue of others waiting to drop off passengers and for the next several minutes, they inched closer to the red carpet in front of the Museum of Modern Art, its glass façade gleaming in the night. Finally, it was their turn to exit the limo. Max stepped out first and then offered her his hand, helping her out. A cacophony of shouts greeted them, camera flashes strobing. Willa had to remind herself to stand up straight, to not curl into herself under the intensity of the scene. The red carpet was a crush of people in evening wear, posing for photographers, laughing, chatting.
“Max! Max! Over here! Max!” As they moved down the red carpet, they stopped to pose for photographs several times and with each step, Willa’s legs felt a little weaker.
“You doing okay?” he asked, his head dipping low so he could be heard over the noise.
She nodded. “Yeah. It’s just a little overwhelming. I knew there’d be a red carpet and photographers, but this is intense.”
“A few more minutes and we should be at the door.” Everyone who arrived got shuttled along the same path, and so unless they wanted to attract attention by trying to cut through the crowd, they were stuck waiting.
Willa felt a light tap on her shoulder. “Miss, could you move to the side please?” asked one of the event’s staff members. “There are requests for photographs of Mr. Prescott alone.”
Max’s grip tightened on her hand. “Then people will be disappointed.”
“I don’t mind. Really, it’s okay,” she said, glancing down at the red carpet. “I’ll just be right over there.”
Max frowned, the lines on his forehead deepening. “Willa, you don’t—”
“You’re a local celebrity, Max. I understand.”
His frown only deepened, but he gave a small nod and then let go of her hand, watching as she followed the staff member to the designated area for the other plebes like her. Cameras flashed and the crowd moved around her as she kept her eyes on Max, watching as he posed for photos, looking ridiculously handsome in his tux. Watching as he moved farther away from her, moving with ease through this world of wealth and glitz and glamour that he was clearly used to in a way that she didn’t think she’d ever fully be.
After several more minutes, he returned to find her, taking her hand and leading her inside. The interior of the museum had been transformed into an opulent sea of flowers and glimmering lights cascading from the ceiling on invisible wires, making them look like falling stars. Spotlights cast soft pink and gold light on the space. Groupings of round tables, adorned with thick white tablecloths and enormous flower arrangements, sat off to the right, while a bar and dance floor occupied the space to
the left. Immediately ahead was an enormous art installation made entirely of lights and flowers, seeming to hover off the ground. Signs in an elegant font indicated that the auction was taking place in an area off the main concourse, and there were sign up times available for private tours of some of the exhibits.
Everywhere she looked all she could see was extravagant beauty, wealth, and privilege. She tightened her grip on Max’s hand, her pulse feeling slow and sluggish as she took it all in. She couldn’t help but feel as though she didn’t belong here. That everyone would take one look at her and wonder what Max was doing with someone so ordinary when he could have anyone he wanted, including the famous supermodel who was currently devouring him with her deep brown eyes.
He led her toward the bar, and she was grateful. Tonight was special and she wanted to enjoy it, not be caught up in insecurities. She gratefully accepted the glass of white wine he held out to her, taking a small sip. Before she could say anything to him, a group of men approached him, one of them clapping Max on the shoulder and after he’d introduced her, they chatted for a few minutes about the stock market and investment opportunities. As soon as they’d moved away, another group came over, wanting to talk to him about a potential spot on their board of directors. And then another group, apparently some guys he knew from Columbia, where he’d done his MBA. And then another group, this one mostly women, who wanted to talk to him about another investment opportunity. They ignored Willa entirely, even after he’d introduced her. By the time they’d left, her glass of wine was gone and she was feeling more and more like scenery.
“Max. Haven’t seen you in a while. Didn’t know you’d be here,” said another man as he approached, his hands in his pockets. He cocked his head toward Willa. “Who’s this?”
Willa glanced over at Max and found that his shoulders had gone tight, his jaw clenched. “This is my girlfriend, Willa Banks.” He hesitated slightly, then said, “Willa, this is my father, Quentin Prescott.”
