White Rabbit

by London Miller

  Probably more so because she was here.

  “Ibuprofen?” Isla asked or rather suggested as she plucked a bottle of pills from the cabinet next to the refrigerator. She also handed Karina a bottle of water, encouraging her to drink it though she was still nursing two coffee mugs.

  Isla didn’t ask any questions as she turned back to what she was doing—carefully pouring hot chocolate into the mugs that smelled of hazelnut and espresso before she spooned a dollop of whipped cream on top.

  That was the difference between her sister and mother and the way they approached things. Katherine would have already asked dozens of questions—why she was there, what had happened, had she truly been that foolish?

  It wasn’t what she needed.

  “Did you know,” Isla said as she passed over the mug before collapsing down beside her, “this was my very first apartment after I moved out on my own.”

  She frowned, remembering a story her mother had told her. “I thought you lived in—”

  Isla seemed to know exactly what she was about to say. “After the job was finished, I mean.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Including the sleek black grand piano sitting near the spiral staircase that led upstairs. She’d never been very good on the instrument, but Isla had excelled at it.

  “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

  “Thank you. Are you going to be staying long?” she asked, wondering if she was in the city because she was here, or if she had come back for another reason.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes,” she answered honestly. “Unless you have—”

  Isla waved that away before she could finish. “You’re more important. When you’re finished with that,” she said with a nod of her head at the coffee in her hand, “we’ll go shopping.”

  Karina got started on it.

  Though Isla was slightly taller and had a different fashion sense, it was still easy enough for her to find something to wear before they left the building.

  She couldn’t count the number of stores they ventured into, but while she was out, she picked up everything she could possibly need, and all the while, Isla talked about everything under the sun.

  From where she had been living for the last year.

  An investment she wanted to make after getting a tip from a broker in the stock market.

  And even about her new favorite singer out of Canada.

  There was no subject she wouldn’t broach, and while Karina indulged her, she also knew what she was trying to do.

  Distract her from whatever had caused her to seek her out. To use a card they both agreed was for emergencies only.

  But how could she explain everything that had happened?

  Would it even make sense to someone else?

  Not to mention, everything else.

  It would be an adjustment, she knew, especially now that she would virtually be starting over. Her identity was tied too much with the mess she had made at the paper to simply find another job in this field.

  For now, she didn’t have a choice but to wait until the story slowly died away before she could do anything about it.

  Except, as upset as she was about the loss of her position, she was also furious. And not just because of Uilleam.

  Sure, the bulk of it was solely for him, but she also recognized that he hadn’t been alone in what he’d done.

  Claire was just as complicit, and the first chance she was able, she’d reveled in the destruction she’d helped create. Delighted in it.

  And because of her, not only had Karina lost everything but so had a man who’d been innocent as far as she could tell.

  In many ways, the story wasn’t over yet.

  But she didn’t know how she would tackle that just yet.

  It wasn’t until they got home later, after stowing everything away and plopping down on the floor in front of the coffee table with takeout that they broached the subject at all.

  “Are you ready to talk about it?” Isla asked, holding two chopsticks with ease.

  “There’s not much to talk about I don’t think,” she answered even though a part of her knew that wasn’t quite true.

  Isla saw right through that. “Now you know I’m the last person to judge. You can tell me anything.”

  Karina didn’t believe anyone else when they said that, but Isla wasn’t one to judge. She observed. She had always thought her sister must have seen a lot to not respond to the things she heard now.

  Closing her eyes a moment, Karina considered her words and how she wanted to explain, thinking she would take her time to make sure she could tell her everything that happened coherently, but what came out was nothing short of a word dump.

  From the very beginning to the very end. Bits she already knew, and all else she didn’t. The thing about talking to her sister was she didn’t have to edit what she said with her.

  She could give the unvarnished truth about not only what she had intended to do where Hugh was concerned, but what she had figured out about Uilleam as well.

  And by the time she finished, Karina took a much-needed breath, feeling as if she had purged everything she possibly could, ending on the night Claire had interrupted their dinner.

  Isla remained quiet for a long while, seeming really intent on her light breakfast. “He really is quite clever, isn’t he?”

  Karina’s mouth dropped open. Of all the things she had expected her sister to say—outrage on her behalf, perhaps, or even a few threats to cause him some form of bodily harm—praise was not at the top of that list.

  It didn’t even make the list.

  “Not you too …”

  “Well … even I have to admit when I’m impressed,” she said with a light laugh and a wave of her spoon. “It doesn’t happen every day, you know. I’m rarely surprised.”

  That was because you didn’t meet a man like Uilleam every day. He was a different kind of beast.

  “I understand why you’re upset,” Isla added after a moment. “I probably would be too, but playing devil’s advocate here, are you really surprised he did that?”

  Karina turned to better face her sister, her drink momentarily forgotten as she considered her answer. “Of course I’m surprised!”

  “That’s because you’re thinking like a woman scorned. If you take the relationship out of it, what would your answer be then?”

  “That’s the thing. There is a relationship, and that’s what makes it different.”

  She wasn’t supposed to be like everyone else.

  She was different. They were different.

  But even as she wanted to deny it, a part of her also knew that she shouldn’t have been surprised by what he did. She would be a fool not to be.

  Considering what she knew he was really capable of, he could have made this so much worse for her.

  But that didn’t make the pain any less real.

  Was it wrong that she didn’t care how he’d manipulated the lives of men like Paxton? Was it wrong that she didn’t give them a second thought and actually felt a bit of a thrill at the thought?

  Did that make her a hypocrite because she was angry with him for doing the same thing to her?

  “This isn’t me saying he wasn’t wrong,” Isla said quickly. “If it were me, I would have responded a touch more violently, but that’s me. The only question is, are you done with him or not?”

  The only question she hadn’t considered yet.

  31

  Break Me

  It was with Isla’s question in mind that she found herself venturing back home, hands twisting in her lap.

  She shouldn’t have gone back.

  Not when she still felt too raw to process what all was happening around her

  And when Karina allowed herself a moment to think about what she was doing, she didn’t have a good reason to explain why she had ventured back to the empty townhouse.

  It was exactly as she remembered it, though that didn’t sur
prise her, all things considered, but that didn’t stop her from looking over the vast space, a rush of memories from hitting her all at once.

  How could so much have happened in such a short amount of time?

  Why did it affect her the way it did?

  Why did it hurt so much?

  Breathing deep, she held it until her lungs ached nearly as bad as her heart before she released it and headed upstairs.

  She grabbed a small bag from the closet and filled it with whatever she could, though every piece of it could be replaced.

  But another mahogany-colored dress wouldn’t be the one that Uilleam had smiled so happily at the moment he saw it. Or the pen he had brought her back after a trip out of town that had been such a weird, thoughtful gift.

  God, she was a mess, and if she stayed here any longer, it wouldn’t get any better.

  This time, she practically hurried down the stairs, swinging back around to the kitchen to grab her keys … only to come up short at the sight of Uilleam standing behind the island.

  A small sound escaped her as she put a hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath. “Have you been here the entire time?”

  “I come here every night,” he answered without hesitation.

  Without inflection.

  He twisted her keys around his finger, somehow making the gesture seem threatening despite how innocent it was. He took his time crossing the floor, every step pronounced.

  It took every bit of strength inside her body to remain there instead of stepping back the way she wanted. It shouldn’t have been possible that the closer he came, the harder it was to remember why she needed to stay away.

  That this thing between them wasn’t born out of anything good or pure.

  He held up her phone, giving it a little shake. “You left this behind.”

  She nodded once. “I meant to.”

  That didn’t seem to be the right answer.

  If anything, that only made him angrier, and now it was written all over his face.

  Her second mistake was when she thought to take a step backward.

  Only then did he react, moving forward so quickly she didn’t have a chance to get away before he was suddenly there.

  “Here to gather your things?” he asked, though the words sounded more like an accusation than anything else.

  He was mad, she realized, at her. As if she had done something wrong. As if the fury on his face was justified, though she had been the one who was wronged.

  “Uilleam, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  She didn’t know what she wanted to say.

  It was all too confusing.

  “You left me.”

  “And you gave me a reason to!” she shot back.

  “Then why are you here now?” he asked, his smile twisting into something resembling a sneer. The arrogance was back. “I’ve wronged you, yet here you stand.”

  That was the thing about Uilleam. He didn’t threaten overtly or use his fists to make a point, but it remained unspoken between them that should she attempt to move around him, he wouldn’t be pleased. It was for that reason that she stayed in place. Certainly not because she couldn’t think of anywhere else he would rather be.

  He was angry, furious really with the way he clenched that muscle in his jaw as he regarded her. There was nothing kind between the twist of his lips or the tension inside his body.

  There was just something dark and primal that made her breath catch.

  “Why’d you come back?” he asked, his voice devoid of any emotion, but he never took his eyes off her.

  And while his voice was dry and listless, his expression wasn’t. Everything he was feeling at the moment and since she’d left, she imagined, was reflected there.

  Not trusting her own voice—or the answer that would come out of her mouth—she merely lifted the bag she was holding, the only part of the truth she was willing to share.

  Yes, she had come back for her clothes and the few other bits she had tucked away in there, but that wasn’t the entire truth, and she suspected he knew that.

  The space between them had never seemed as wide as it did now.

  And despite what she had hoped, her non-answer wasn’t good enough for him. “I need to hear your voice.”

  He punctuated that remark by wrapping his fingers over hers before removing the straps of the bag from her hand. He stared at her as if daring her to protest—to resist—but she remained stubbornly mute.

  Oh, how she wished she could turn and walk away right then.

  To resist the temptation she felt down to her bones.

  But this wasn’t simply a cute game between them anymore.

  This was something more.

  A battle of wills, and he was determined to win.

  Those fingers he had wrapped around her throat tightened for a fraction of a second before he came close enough she could smell the cologne on his skin.

  He hovered over her mouth, his lips there but not. It took everything inside her not to arch up to make contact.

  It felt too much like giving in and proving some unspoken point.

  But he wasn’t going to make it that easy on her.

  Instead, he closed that last remaining distance and kissed her so gingerly, she could perceive the outline of his mouth before he was pulling away again.

  He didn’t kiss her again immediately. No, he pulled back far enough to read all the things she couldn’t bring herself to say.

  He had her, even if she was still unwilling to voice that.

  But the kiss did something different to him. His expression didn’t say beautiful surrender—he looked pained.

  Soon, it didn’t matter how he looked—not when he kissed her again and made her forget everything else. His grip was harsher than normal—a need she felt deep in the core of her being too.

  As he took her mouth, his arm banded around her, carrying her over to the dining table where he swept everything to the floor, not caring what broke or shattered in the process.

  He kissed her harder, his body pressed against her own. His hands buried deep in her hair.

  It was too good.

  Too much.

  But as much as those feelings eclipsed her every thought, she felt it change. Going from slow to desperate. Wanting to an acute desire that had him tearing at the zipper of her dress to get it down.

  She should pull away from him for so many reasons and end this before it went too far—before she crossed that line in her mind that would find herself back here under his spell.

  But it certainly didn’t stop her from gripping him just as tight—from reminding herself why it was so very good between them.

  His arm cushioned her back as she hit the dining room table, the sound of the chairs scraping across the floor as Uilleam wedged himself between her thighs, making her toes curl.

  Nothing was sweet or gentle about the way he shoved her dress up and out of his way, fisting her panties and dragging them down her legs, not caring in the slightest how they scored her skin and left trails of heat behind.

  No, he wasn’t thinking about anything other than his own desires.

  And even that didn’t deter from what she felt.

  The way it felt like she was on fire for him even as she knew this was the last thing they needed. That she was so dangerously close to falling back into this with him.

  For this feeling.

  The coursing of her blood and how quickly it raced through her. The rapid thump of her heart that took her breath away and made her movements jittery.

  God, she wanted him. As bad as he was for her, she still wanted him.

  “Where’s that fight now?” he growled in her ear, his tone just as harsh as his thrusts.

  It was too much yet not nearly enough.

  She couldn’t think, could hardly breathe, and if he wasn’t forcing her attention on him, she might have tried to close her eyes against the onslaught of what she was feeling.

  So seeing him wouldn�
�t be more than she could bear because he was shattering her—breaking her down into a million pieces until she couldn’t recognize who she was anymore.

  But even as he fucked her like he hated her, that didn’t stop him from reaching down between them and rubbing quick, sharp circles over her clit.

  She felt every pulse of his cock buried inside her. Every harsh thrust of his hips that told her she was going to ache in the morning.

  She loved every second of it.

  But even as she felt the first stirrings of that release hovering just out of reach, it wasn’t until he threw his head back, the veins in his neck standing out in stark relief as he growled through his release that she finally broke.

  Her back arched high, a breathless cry exploding from her as her nails dug into his back. He whispered words she couldn’t hear as he rubbed his hands over her.

  And when she opened her eyes, he was staring down at her with an expression she couldn’t read.

  His eyes were flat.

  As if he felt nothing.

  Even as he was still inside her, Uilleam looked at her as if she was no one to him.

  “Am I to blame for this as well?” he asked. He didn’t even sound winded.

  Just … unfeeling.

  He got close again, her chin caught between his thumb and fingers. “You knew who I was before you ever climbed into my bed. You wanted me still, so if you want to be angry with someone, be angry with yourself. I am who I am, and I make no apologies for it.”

  “Uilleam—”

  “Except I apologized to you, didn’t I? I offered to make it right because you could choose from more than a dozen papers in this city. The Gazette Post is one of many. It didn’t matter.”

  She pushed against his chest now, wanting away from him and the coldness of his words. How easily he dismissed something that meant everything to her, even if it wasn’t his precious title and the power he wanted.

  She righted her clothes, as angry with herself now as she was with him. “And you wonder why I left.”

  “Because you would much rather be a victim than to acknowledge your part in this.”

  And he so very much hated when someone was a victim he didn’t perceive as one.