by Brynley Bush
Somehow I thought when your life flashed before you and your loved ones talked to you, they’d be a little nicer.
“Come on, Ari.” Her voice is pleading now. “Stay with me. You’re your father’s daughter; you’re a fighter. Come on. Wake up. I need you.”
My eyes flutter open again. Tori’s face is still hovering above mine, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “That’s more like it,” I say.
“Ari! Thank God!” Gripping my hand tightly, she turns and says excitedly, “She’s conscious.”
Another face joins hers, brown and kindly-looking and lined by time so that it resembles a walnut shell. “Well, there you are. We were hoping you’d decide to wake up soon. My name is Therese; I’m the shift nurse. You’re in the hospital.”
My eyes slowly take in my surroundings. What I’d thought were the strands of pearls are actually wires hooking me up to a machine that’s quietly beeping, recording my brain activity, pulse and heart rate. All of the trappings of a hospital room are here—the fluorescent lights, the hum and beep of an army of machines, and that antiseptic smell that I thought I’d never get out of my nose after my father died.
“What happened?” My question is directed at Tori.
She sits down on the bed next to me, still gripping my hand. “You were kidnapped at Five Pines. Do you remember anything at all about the weekend?”
“Unfortunately, I remember far too much,” I say ruefully, thinking about Marcus.
Misinterpreting the cause of my regret, Tori squeezes my hand. “It’ll get better. I felt the same after almost getting killed in New York before Drake and I got married. Of course, it helped that Drake had been there too, but eventually the memories will fade.”
I nod, unconvinced.
“What do you remember?” she prompts.
“I remember talking to Bridget and Justin at The Great Gatsby party; they were a couple at the resort who were involved in a case Marcus is working on. Oh God, I didn’t tell you about Marcus.”
“I know who Marcus is,” she says softly. “Go on.”
What the hell? I’ve told Tori about Italy of course, and Marcus, but I’ve only ever referred to him as the Bastard, never by his given name. “Um. Okay. Anyway, every instinct I had was telling me to get away from them, so I excused myself and went up to my room, but they intercepted me and someone else pulled a hood over my head and injected me with something.”
“Ketamine,” Tori confirms, nodding.
“That sounds right,” I say, remembering the effects of the drug. “When I came to, I was bound, pretty much naked, and strategically wrapped in pearls. I guess their interpretation of the 1920’s theme,” I add dryly. I can feel the cold fingers of dread creep up my spine at the memory. “They were going to take me back down to the party, do God knows what to me with a knife, send a picture of it to Marcus, and then take me to some cabin until Marcus dropped his investigation into the case and advised his client to pay the claim. I’m pretty sure they were going to kill me either way.” I shudder, remembering the cold steel of the knife against my throat and the stabbing heat I’d felt right before I collapsed. I’m suddenly afraid to look down at my body. “The knife. Oh God. What did they do to me?”
“The woman, Bridget, stabbed you in the thigh. She hit a major artery. You lost a lot of blood. A lot!” she stresses. “If Marcus hadn’t been there and known exactly what to do, you probably would have died.” Tori’s luminous brown eyes fill with tears again. “But he made a tourniquet from his shirt and got you to the hospital. You were in surgery for several hours, but the doctor said that thanks to Marcus’ quick thinking, you’re going to be fine in a few weeks, thank God.”
I’m glad I’m going to be okay, but I stopped listening several sentence ago. “Marcus was really there? I didn’t dream him?”
“No, he was there,” Tori says with a small smile. “He saved your life. Apparently you’d told Gavin to get a message to him about Bridget, and he knew from your message and the fact that Bridget was there that something was wrong so he immediately went to the resort. He didn’t find you right away, but then you appeared with Bridget and Justin, obviously drugged. When he saw Justin touch you, he totally lost his shit.” She smiles widely. “He cold-cocked him. Knocked him out and broke his nose in the process. Then the lights went out—part of the murder mystery set-up—and Marcus grabbed you.”
I nod, remembering. I couldn’t see his face, but I’d known he was there. I’d felt his steady presence.
“But evidently, during the brief moment the lights were out, Bridget stabbed you. When the lights came back on, she was gone and you were bleeding everywhere. Marcus got you here and the surgical team did the rest.”
“Where’s Marcus now?” I ask quietly.
“He’s gone. Griffin said he stayed until you were out of surgery and he knew you were going to be okay. Then he went back to San Diego.”
I nod. The fact that he saved my life doesn’t mean he feels any differently about me than he did before. He’d only done what any decent human being would do, and Marcus is one of the most decent human beings I know.
“How long have you been here?”
Tori chuckles softly. “Right before the shit hit the fan, Marcus had texted Griffin to see if Bridget or Justin had any mob connections. When Griffin found out they did, he decided to fly out in case Marcus needed any help. When he heard what happened to you he called me. I’ve been here since about eight o’clock this morning. I called your mom; she’ll be here later tonight.”
“What day is it?”
“Monday.”
“How did you get here so fast?”
She smiles. “Being married to a famous musician with a private jet has its advantages.”
I’m silent, trying to process everything she’s told me. “Um, who the hell is Griffin?”
This time she actually laughs. “Griffin is my brother-in-law. He’s Drake’s brother, but he’s also one of Marcus’ best friends.”
I look at her, dumbstruck. “Seriously? Marcus is the guy from Italy.”
She nods. “I know. Griffin told me. Small world, isn’t it?”
I close my eyes against the memories of Marcus, but not before the tears leak out, trailing down my temple to dampen the pillow.
“Oh sweetie,” Tori says, hugging me as best she can given the wires and bandages. “What hurts? I’ll get the nurse.”
“My heart.” I open my eyes and look at Tori. “You tried to warn me before I left but I wasn’t worried. I knew I couldn’t give my heart to anyone because I gave it to Marcus ten years ago and I never got it back. I was so in love with him. Totally, unequivocally, and completely stupid in love with him. But he rejected me and I thought I’d moved on until I saw him this weekend. And I realized I’ll never be over him. We spent the weekend together at his cabin—not at Five Pines—and he was clear that although he finds me sexually attractive, he wasn’t interested in anything more. And fool that I am, I was willing to trade my soul for a few more hours or days with him. I just didn’t know how much worse it would be to lose him the second time.”
“Ari, you need to talk to Griffin.”
I look at her incredulously. I just bared my soul to her and all she can think about is the case?
“Fine,” I say wearily. “I’ll call him later.”
She covers my hand with hers. “No, now. He’s here. He’s a former Navy SEAL who runs a security company. Marcus was still worried about Bridget and Justin and their mob connections and asked him to stay and make sure you stayed safe while you recovered. Griffin’s been here the whole time. Armed, I might add. I think you should hear from him why Marcus left.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just listen.”
She leaves for a few minutes, and when she comes back in she’s accompanied by one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen, not counting Marcus. Unlike Tori’s husband Drake, who’s got dark hair, brilliant blue eyes, a perpetual sexy scruff, and an a
ir of danger about him, Griffin has wavy dark blond hair, greenish-gold eyes like a lion’s, and an easy, sexy-as-sin, slow grin.
“Hi, I’m Griffin,” he says with a smile that reaches his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. It puts me immediately at ease.
“You’re Drake’s brother?” I ask skeptically.
He laughs. “We get that a lot. Probably because I’m so much better looking than him. Poor kid.” He shakes his head ruefully.
That makes me laugh, and Tori punches him playfully. “Stop teasing her.” Turning to me, she says, “Their parents adopted Griffin and his older brother Beckett from Brazil when they were little. They had Drake a few years later.”
That explains it. “So you’re not blood brothers,” I say.
Griffin’s face grows serious. “There are few things I know with as much certainty as I know this. Blood isn’t what makes family. It’s what’s here that counts.” He touches a fist to the center of his chest. “My brothers are the family of my heart, regardless of who gave birth to us.”
My eyes fill with tears again. I’d always felt loved by my parents, but I never had the kind of bond that’s clearly between the Black brothers, and I’ve never felt the absence of a sibling so keenly as I do right now. When I have a family of my own, I want as many children as I can squeeze in before my biological clock runs out.
“So how do you know Marcus?” I ask curiously.
He pulls up a chair and sits down, stretching his long, muscular legs out in front of him. “Well, he was my BUD/S Commanding Officer when I first joined the Navy SEALS,” he says conversationally. “He was tough but fair, and although I’d been pretty sick as a kid, he was the first person who saw that my greatest strength wasn’t in my body but in my mind and my heart. I owe becoming a Navy SEAL to him. After I graduated, I was assigned to a platoon based in San Diego, where Marcus lives, and over the years we became good friends.
“Then about ten years ago, my team was deployed to Afghanistan. It was the kind of mission we knew we might not come back from. Our CO, that’s the commanding officer, couldn’t go because his wife was terminally ill, so Marcus was asked to step in.” Griffin is watching me closely as he continues. “On the long flight over there, and believe me, it’s long, he couldn’t stop talking about this girl. He’d met her in Italy, and although he was older than her and had promised her father he wouldn’t see her anymore, he couldn’t stop thinking about her because she was everything he’d ever wanted. He told me he was in love with her, that extraordinarily rare and right kind of love that most people don’t find in a lifetime. But he’d walked away from her because he thought he was a jaded soldier and she had her life ahead of her and deserved more than him.”
“What…” I sputter.
Griffin holds up his hand and I bite back my questions.
“I asked him if she loved him back and he said yes. Marcus and I had the most soul-baring conversation we’ve ever had on that jet several miles above the Atlantic. I told him bluntly that he was a fool if he let her go. When you have that kind of love, the other stuff simply doesn’t matter. That kind of love is the sky—constant and unchangeable; everything else is the weather. When we landed, he said as soon as we got back to the States he was going to go to Virginia where she lived, take her in his arms, and never let her go again.”
I can’t help but interrupt. “What? But I never saw him again until this weekend!”
Griffin continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “We spent the next ten days fighting one of the ugliest and bloodiest battles I’ve ever fought. We almost made it out unscathed, but we were shot down by enemy fire and Marcus was hit by a bullet.”
“He told me about that. He said he almost bled out and would have died if one of his men hadn’t realized how much blood he was losing and insisted the medic give him a transfusion with his own blood right there in the lifeboat. You were the man, weren’t you?”
Griffin nods. “He would have done the same for any of us. He’s one of the noblest men I have ever known.”
I nod. “I still don’t understand. Why didn’t Marcus contact me when he got back to the States?” Realization hits. “Did my father stop him somehow?”
Griffin shakes his head. “In a way. He was the one who suggested him for the mission.”
I stare at him incredulously. My father had done that?
“Marcus told me a lot about you in the days after that as he recovered at a hospital in Germany. But he said when we flew home, he would tuck away the memories and try to forget you. It was one of the hardest things he ever did not contacting you, but he refused to be the one who denied you your deepest hopes and dreams. He loved you too much for that.”
“For fuck’s sake. What are you talking about?”
Griffin’s tawny eyes meet mine. “The injury made Marcus sterile. He can’t have children.”
Chapter Ten
Ariana
Four weeks later
“Are you sure about this?” Tori says as we pull into the drop-off lane at the Austin airport. I smile at the sense of déjà vu. “You’ve only been out of the hospital a couple of weeks. Flying to San Diego to confront the man who broke your heart and then stomped on it may not be the best thing to do right now.” She frowns. “Maybe I should go with you.”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life. And I’m fine,” I assure her. “I got a clean bill of health and permission to travel from Dr. Shumaker. And trust me, you don’t want to be there. If things go the way I hope they will, even you would blush at the things you’d see.”
She looks down briefly, and I say what we’re both thinking. “You’re worried that things won’t go the way I hope they will, aren’t you?”
She nods. “I’m going to rip his balls out if he breaks your heart a third time. Just sayin’.”
“It’s a possibility,” I admit. “He hasn’t called or texted to see how I am since Denver. Or even to thank me.”
According to Griffin, my revelation about Bridget being right-handed and therefore able to repeatedly hit herself on the right side of her face, something her allegedly right-handed “assailants” couldn’t have done give her testimony that they had faced her as they attacked her, had led to both her and Justin going to jail for insurance fraud in addition to kidnapping and aggravated assault, and had saved Marcus’ client two million dollars.
I sigh. “Griffin could be completely wrong about why Marcus doesn’t want to be with me. Or maybe he’s just gotten over me! But I can’t not try, Tori. Ever since Italy, I’ve been searching for someone who makes me feel the way he did, but I haven’t been able to find that again because it’s Marcus that I want. It always has been.” I take a deep breath. “And if he really doesn’t love me, I have to know once and for all so I can move on. I’d rather know for sure than spend my whole life wondering. I don’t want to live with the regret of never having tried.”
“That’s one of the things I’ve always admired most about you, Ari. You’re never afraid.”
I give her a disbelieving look. “I’m always afraid.”
“You know what I mean,” she says. “Even when you’re afraid, you never let it stop you from following your heart and going for what you want, no matter how hard it is. That, my friend, is true courage, and if it doesn’t work out with Marcus, he doesn’t deserve someone as amazing as you.” She pops the trunk and turns back to face me. “Good luck. And call Griffin or Mila if you need anything.”
I nod. Once I’d told Tori what I planned to do, she’d called Mila, who’d coerced Griffin into helping me. She leans over and hugs me fiercely. “I love you. Now go before you miss your flight.”
“I love you too.”
Four hours later, I’m in the rental car headed to La Jolla and Marcus’ house, following the directions Griffin had e-mailed me. I’m a bundle of nerves by the time I pull up in front of the adorable stucco and stone house perched on a cliff overlooking the Pacific. With my heart racing, I find the key Gri
ffin left under one of the potted plants by the front door, and with trembling fingers, I let myself into his house.
The inside is just as charming as the outside, with an open floorplan, warm wood floors, comfortable but classic furniture in creams and shades of turquoise, and a wall of windows overlooking the ocean. The kitchen is tidy and inviting with white cabinets and marbled countertops.
I find my way to the master bedroom, which is quintessentially Marcus—masculine, but comfortably warm and inviting. I go into his closet and pull a crisp, freshly-starched and pressed white dress shirt from its hanger. I strip off my clothes—every last stitch—and put on his shirt, buttoning it to just below my breasts. I resist the urge to just stay here all day, inhaling the scent of him on his clothes, but I don’t know how long it will be until he gets home and I want to be ready.
I go back into the living room and kneel on the soft, cream-colored rug facing the front door with my butt resting on my heels, my thighs slightly parted and my hands placed palm up on them. I’ve done my research. It’s the most traditional slave position and how a submissive presents herself to her master, and I’ve practiced it until I can do it effortlessly. I have a message for Marcus, and this is the best way I can think of to make sure he gets it. I want to be his. Wholly and completely. Forever.
I kneel there for what seems like forever, although it’s probably only ten or fifteen minutes. Griffin had told me Marcus would be home promptly at four, and Marcus is always prompt. My foot is starting to cramp and I’ve memorized every inch of the room and am starting to count the seagulls I see swooping out the window when I hear a key turn in the lock.
My heart instantly starts hammering in my chest. Seconds later, Marcus steps through the door, looking imposing, larger-than-life, and more fucking gorgeous than ever. His eyes register surprise followed by unvarnished lust as he sees me kneeling in his living room, dressed only in his white, somewhat see-through dress shirt. Unfortunately, his expression quickly turns remote and impersonal, but not before I see the hunger and yearning in his eyes, and I cling to that to give me the courage to carry out the rest of my plan.
