This Cruel Love (A Dark Hearts Stand-Alone Novel Book 2)

by Nikki J Summers

  “Why the fuck does the stoner need watching? Can’t he cope without you, Ryles?”

  I hated when he called me Ryles, but I overlooked it this time, as I was desperate for a favour from him.

  “No. He had a bit too much stuff last night and I had to call an ambulance. Look, say no if it’s really too much trouble for you to help your oldest friend. I just need to make sure he doesn’t relapse, or become ill whilst I’m running an errand. A very important errand that just can’t wait.”

  Liam grimaced, as if I’d insinuated I was off to do some kind of girlie errand that he didn’t want to know about. Then shrugging, he agreed to stay at the apartment until I got back. I wasn’t overly enthusiastic with my thanks. If he’d been a better friend when I’d been away, Justin wouldn’t have been in the mess he was in now.

  I hadn’t expected to find myself in this building ever again. Well, not on my own, at least. But hell, here I was braving the devil’s lair for a second time this week, and feeling a hell of a lot less cocky than last time. Zero thought had gone into my outfit. No stripper chic for me today, just plain old Ryley. With my tumbling, blonde curls down my back and a pastel green strappy summer dress that swung playfully around my knees, showing off my tanned shoulders. Flip-flops with yellow roses threaded around my toes finished off my rapidly thrown together outfit. What I looked like had been the last thing on my mind when I got ready for this meeting. Part of me didn’t want to appear sexy or suggestive to Mr Caine. What I was hoping to achieve was to be as unenticing to him as possible and still get what I wanted. I didn’t want to muddy the waters by giving any indication that I was there other than to talk business.

  I was armed with a better plan of action today. I just hoped and prayed that Mr Caine showed some degree of humility, and could meet me halfway. I’d exhausted every avenue in my thought processes, and what I’d decided at 5.30 that morning was, I considered, a good compromise for all involved.

  As I made my way down the corridor, flanked by two new burly meat-heads, the door I had my gaze fixed upon opened up. Out sauntered Cillian James, looking every inch the cocky bastard he no doubt was. When he saw me, his eyes bugged out of his head and his jaw fell open, then he cackled with laughter.

  “Jax, my man, you’re not gonna want to miss this,” he said, with an evil grin curling up on one side of his face.

  Jackson Caine came to the door and followed Cillian James’s stare to where I was standing. The look of shock that passed over his face was quickly followed by an evil smirk, and then… was that admiration of some kind?

  The pair of them stood there gawping at me as I walked towards them, looking like gatekeepers to the depths of hell. Probably a hell most women would want to dive into head first if these two were part of it, but all the same, what they stood for made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Remember Ryley, a beautiful face doesn’t equate to a beautiful soul, I told myself as I came to a halt in front of these two Adonises and took a deep, calming breath in. They were both formidable men, but Jackson Caine stood a few inches taller than Cillian James, and appeared more guarded, scarier.

  “Miss Emerson. I wasn’t expecting to see you here anytime soon. Miss me?” Jackson Caine was trying to look confident and cool in front of his friend. It wouldn’t last.

  “Are you always this smug, or are you making a special effort today, just for me?” Uh oh, sassy Ryley was coming out to play, and this didn’t bode well for my ability to negotiate.

  Cillian threw his head back, laughing, as Jackson scowled over at me.

  “I like her!” he said, pointing at me and raising his eyebrows at Jackson. “She’s gonna be good for you.”

  “About as good as a dose of syphilis,” Jackson retorted, trying to meet my sass with his own.

  “Well, at least you’ll have an excuse for all the shit that spouts out of your mouth.” I met his insult and batted my own straight back to him; he wasn’t impressed.

  Cillian thought it was highly entertaining, judging from the way he stepped to the side to view us, folding his arms and waiting expectantly for Jackson’s response.

  “Sweetheart.” Jackson smiled to himself, obviously feeling pleased with the response he’d formed in his evil, little brain. “It truly is endearing how hard you’re trying to hurt my feelings, but trust me when I say not a single bit of my self-esteem is tied up in your acceptance.”

  “Ooh, tied up! I like where this is going.” Cillian winked as he turned his attention back to me. He was watching us like he was at a tennis match.

  “I really don’t have the energy to pretend to like you-”

  “And yet, here you are,” Jackson interrupted.

  “You know, in order to insult me, I have to value your opinion in the first place. Trust me, if I could be anywhere else today, I would. A day at a viper petting zoo sounds much more appealing at this precise moment.” I fought the urge to turn around and leave. I had to keep my eyes on the prize. I had to remember my Justin.

  “Did you come all this way just to trade insults with me, or is there a real purpose to this visit?” he asked, looking bored and inconvenienced.

  I huffed in annoyance and crossed my arms over my chest as Jackson and I glared at each other in our makeshift standoff. The two meat-heads either side of me were clearing their throats, waiting to be dismissed. Were they so dumb they had to wait to take orders from these guys? Cillian just bristled with the excitement of it all.

  “Tink,” Cillian said. His eyes sparkled and his eyebrows wriggled up and down at me.

  “Come again?” I had no idea what he was on about. This guy was insane.

  “Tink. Tinkerbell. That’s what I’m going to call you from now on. You’re all cute and little, blonde and feisty. Like our very own little Tinkerbell.”

  I wrinkled my nose in confusion at the way he seemed so pumped and excited by this whole surreal exchange. How old was he? Twelve?

  “Plus, you’re wearing the same shade of green that she does, so it just… fits.”

  “Let me guess, you’re Peter Pan?” I rolled my eyes with the ridiculousness of it all. One minute they’re sending thugs to our apartment to put the frighteners on us, the next I’m starring in their fucked up cartoon shit. Who was this guy?

  “No, I’m more of a Marvel or DC kinda guy. I’m too dark for Disney.”

  He seemed pleased with himself as he nodded at his choice, and I couldn’t stop myself from sniggering at how absurd he sounded.

  “I wouldn’t have taken you for a Disney fan anyway,” I sneered.

  “After living with five older sisters, I had no choice. It’s not my favourite genre of movie though.” Cillian’s eyes sparkled with sin and lust. I could just imagine what kind of movies he liked to watch in his spare time.

  “So, who’s he?” I pointed over to where Jackson Caine stood, emitting pure venom my way from every pore of his being. “Is he your ugly sister?”

  “Oh, no.” Cillian chuckled as he came toward me, and then growled into my ear. “He’s the beast.”

  Jackson laughed at his response, and that air of pompous pretentiousness he wore like cologne wafted back into the corridor.

  “More like Gaston, you mean. All brawn and no substance,” I spat out absent-mindedly, and instantly winced, waiting for the backlash.

  “And on that note, kids, I will love you and leave you. Jackson, my friend, I will see you tonight. Tink, it was a pleasure as always. I hope to see you again very, very soon.”

  Cillian took my hand and kissed the back, like some old time gentleman, then motioned for the two security guys to follow him back downstairs.

  “Don’t let the nice guy act fool you. He’s no gentleman,” Jackson growled.

  “He’s more of a gentleman than you are.”

  His jaw tensed and he crossed his muscly arms over his puffed out chest.

  “Is there a point to your visit today, Miss Emerson? Because as fun as it is to verbally spar with you, I have work to do.”
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  He turned his back on me and went to close his office door, but I called for him to wait, my facial expression changing from argumentative vixen to moderately compliant saint. He bit his bottom lip in thought and looked me up and down, then he ushered me inside.

  I declined his offer of a drink. I figured the Disney theme for the day might not be over, and it might turn out to be a poisoned chalice. He poured his own drink then sat back, indicating for me to take the seat on the other side of his desk. Figuring it was a better way to break bread with him, I sat down and placed my hands in my lap. I tried to look demure and less like the harpy I’d been minutes earlier.

  He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, before looking at me over his lashes and taking a sip.

  “So, tell me, why have you come here today?”

  I sighed and looked down at my hands. I suddenly felt self-conscious, nervous about how to start this off. Trading insults was easy. Begging was not.

  “I was hoping we could reach some sort of agreement. I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day.”

  “Which part?” he cut in. “Was it when I told you your boyfriend was a gutter rat, or the part where I told you I don’t do negotiations?”

  He wasn’t going to make this easy for me.

  “But you did offer a negotiation, didn’t you? There was a deal on the table, as you put it.”

  He placed his glass down slowly and looked up at me. I noticed that the dull, grey eyes I’d looked into twenty-four hours ago were now sparkling and alive.

  “So, you want to take me up on my offer? One month? You and me?”

  “No.” I clamped my mouth shut, willing myself not to insult him again, but to form my words carefully and engage my brain before I spoke.

  “No?” He frowned.

  “Well, what I meant to say is not quite. I have some of my own terms to add.”

  “Go on.” He leaned forward, steepling his fingers together and looking intrigued.

  I twisted my hands in my lap as nerves overtook me. He made me feel like an insecure teenager again. Like I was sat in the headmaster’s office, waiting to be punished.

  “I’ll do your one month. I’ll act like I like you, and do what I can to get you those contracts you want.”

  “That’s big of you.” He cocked his eyebrow as if he was making fun of me and it set me on edge.

  “Isn’t it? I mean it’s going to be a stretch acting like I like you, when insulting you just comes so naturally.”

  He huffed in annoyance, and I slapped my hand on my forehead.

  “See, it spills out when I don’t even mean it to. Damn, what am I even doing here?” I whined.

  “Insulting me? Oh, and trying to save your junkie boyfriend’s ass.”

  “Fiancé,” I spat, and he glowered menacingly back at me. “Look, I’ll do it. I will. But I have something you need to do for me too. Well, two things, actually.”

  “Not asking for much then?”

  “You haven’t heard my terms yet!”

  He waved his hand in the air for me to go on, as he appeared to look disinterested, but he was a rubbish liar. The hunger in his eyes gave him away.

  “I’d need this to stay secret from Justin. I wouldn’t want him to know I was doing this.”

  “And how do you propose to stay in my apartment for four weeks without your fiancé finding out?”

  “That’s where the second term comes in.” I bit my lip nervously then took the proverbial jump. “I want you to pay for Justin to go into a good rehab facility for those four weeks. You’re gonna help me to get him clean.”

  I waited for the impending rebuff, or snigger at my audacity, but it never came. Instead, Jackson Caine sat still in thought, rubbing over his five o’clock-shadowed square jaw and looking me dead in the eyes. When he finally replied, I almost fell off my chair.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay? You’ll do it?” My heart gave a little skip at the prospect of saving my Justin.

  “Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll meet your terms, but I have one last term of my own.”

  I knew there’d be a catch.

  “Three months.”

  “THREE MONTHS? Hell no! I’m not living with you for three months. One was pushing it, but three? I’d kill you in your sleep and not feel sorry.”

  He didn’t laugh, just kept his intense, grey eyes directly on mine. “If you want your boy clean, I mean really clean, and to stay that way, he needs a ninety day intensive rehab program. Somewhere far away would be best, where they can get all that shit out of his system and keep it out. That’s what you want, right? One month-” he grimaced and shook his head. “It’d never stick. But three months? That might work. If he’s got the balls to do it.”

  I knew what he was saying made sense, and in all honesty, Justin did need a ninety day program. I’d done my research throughout the night. I’d found a few facilities online that offered that kind of treatment, but it had seemed a bit too audacious for me to try for that. I figured one month was already pushing my luck.

  “You promise he’ll never find out about my living arrangements during those three months?”

  I surprised even myself that I was coming round to his terms so easily, but I was frantic with worry for Justin. I think I’d have agreed to most things to get him the help he needed, and get the debts cleared so we could move on with our lives.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “Remind me, why do I have to live with you? Can’t I just stay at Justin’s and you pick me up when you need me to do your bidding?” I was testing him, I knew that, but I had to ask.

  “I think you’ve negotiated enough. Besides, I’d quite enjoy making you suffer on a daily basis. I’m not offering a holiday here. It won’t be a walk in the park.”

  Who was he kidding? Did he think I was expecting moonlight and roses?

  “I’d expect nothing less. If you think you’ll break me, then game on. But I think you’ll find I’m no pushover.” He smirked at my admission, which only served to rile me even more. “Trust me, if there was any other way I’d be heading down that path right now. I’m only doing this for Justin.” He clenched his jaw in annoyance, which made me smile smugly. “So, the debts will be wiped off?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s the catch?” I furrowed my brow and waited for the sneer or cackle of laughter.

  “What do you mean?” His face didn’t move a muscle, not a smile or a smirk, nothing.

  “Well, it seems I’m getting the better deal here. I mean, you could ask any girl out there to pose as your fake girlfriend. Why me?”

  He leant back in his chair, lacing his fingers together like some Bond villain. I expected a cat to hop up on his lap at any minute, ready to be stroked.

  “Let’s just say it works in both of our favours if we do this. It’ll be purely business. No risk, no complications. Just a mutually beneficial business deal, Ryley.”

  He cocked his head to the side and the smile he gave me was unnerving. He had something else up his sleeve, I just knew it, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

  “Why do I feel like there’s a hidden catch?”

  He threw back the last of his whiskey, or whatever it was he was drinking and sighed. “Well, that’s where you’re going to have to trust me isn’t it?”

  “Trust you? That’s something I’ll never do. Why would I trust the devil?”

  His eyes sparkled. “Smart move.” He grinned and stood up from behind his desk.

  I took this as my cue to leave, and turned to walk towards the door.

  “So, when does this start?” I asked, still not quite believing what I’d signed myself up for. I mean, three months? Ninety days? That was a hell of a lot of hours. I couldn’t even focus properly to do the maths.

  “Tonight.”

  “No!” I almost choked. “I can’t do tonight. I need to have some time to talk to Justin, give him some story about the rehab and what’s going to happen. I can’t just disappear.”<
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  He didn’t look impressed, and I expected him to refuse, but he relented. “Fine. Tomorrow. I’ll send a car to your apartment at noon to take him to rehab. Then my driver will collect you at one o’clock. Be ready. You won’t be going back to that apartment for another twelve weeks, so make sure you pack what you need.”

  “Arsenic, hand gun, taser, mace. Anything else?”

  “You can leave the smart mouth behind.”

  “But then our twelve weeks will be so boring.”

  I turned around to leave his office, not sure if I had the upper hand or not. Jackson Caine put me all out of sorts whenever I went toe-to-toe with him. Truth be told, I quite enjoyed it actually, but I wasn’t ever going to admit that to anyone. Especially him.

  Twenty-One years ago…

  “Why do I have to take her everywhere I go? She’s so annoying.”

  Travis was always whining about his little sister, Ryley. But I didn’t get it. To me, she was the cutest thing I’d ever seen.

  “You’re lucky you’ve got a sister. I’ve got no one,” I replied, hoping he’d wake up and realise he was lucky to have someone else relying on him. No one even cared I existed most of the time. Well, that was until I came here, to the Emerson’s. Then I went from a total nobody to somebody. I was Ryley’s favourite somebody.

  Looking down at the little two-year-old holding my hand, I felt a burning sensation in my chest. I felt more protective over her than her own brother. What was up with that?

  Her chubby knees were covered in bruises, and she wore pink dungarees which were already caked in mud. Her blonde ringlets were tied up with a yellow ribbon, but stray curls had escaped and framed her pretty little face. She was bobbing her head from side to side and singing nursery rhymes, totally ignorant to Travis’s utter disdain for her.

  The adults called her a Tomboy, but she wasn’t, really. She loved listening to me read fairy stories to her, and acting them out with her teddies. Me? It was my favourite thing to do, to sit and watch her. She mesmerised me; or at least that’s what I’d heard the adults say about it all. She was curious about everything and always so full of life. Being around her made me feel good about myself, which was something I usually struggled with. Travis was one of my best friends, but it was Ryley I really looked forward to seeing when we visited here.