“Don’t talk to me that way.”
“You don’t know how good you have it,” Tristan continued in his evil hiss. He flashed his eyes, wild and insane with rage. He hadn’t gotten what he wanted, and now I’d pay the price. But I didn’t yet know the cost. “You and I could conquer the world together, Lydia. You and I, and no one else.”
“I need to leave now, Tristan. I have work to do. Don’t cause a scene, or I’ll make sure you suffer the consequences. You can’t spit this venom about me in Grounds Zero since I’m a public figure. It’s called slander. You of all people should know that.” My calm and quiet voice traveled the short distance between our bodies.
“Lydia, I need you,” Tristan said, his voice and facial expression turning to pleading. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you again. Please don’t leave me. Let’s talk about this.”
“There’s nothing more to talk about. I texted you so we could have closure on whatever this was.” I stopped only long enough to make a sweeping motion with my free hand. “I wanted that for you since I have feelings for your brother.”
There. There it was. My words fell to the hardwood floors beneath us without any acknowledgment from him. For several long seconds, it was as if I hadn’t spoken at all, then he sneered and narrowed his eyes.
“Well, then. I wish you nothing but the best with my brother. I hope you never orgasm again as long as you live. With his ability to make the women of the world prefer death to being with him, I’m sure it won’t be hard.”
The only sound was the shocked hiss of the woman next to me. I flashed her an apologetic grimace as I hugged my bag to my chest and stalked out of the coffee house. One glance over my shoulder verified that he still sat in the chair, stiff as a board, not giving chase.
I pulled my phone from my purse. There was one person I could call. Poppy wouldn’t understand, and it had been a long afternoon. The last thing I wanted was the third degree. I needed someone who would understand without much explanation. I needed him.
He picked up on the third ring. “Lydia?”
“Oh, thank god,” I breathed.
“What?” He sounded a little frantic, and my heart flipped over. What had I done? I’d gone and blown it with him. My heart had been in the right place. I’d just wanted to make things right between Tristan and me, so that Callum would stop being so angry with him, and we could all be civil when we saw each other. Now, he’d be angry because I’d interfered in a family thing. One where I had no business sticking my nose. Tears pricked my eyes again. Christ, to make matters worse, I was about to cry like one of my overemotional heroines. Except this wasn’t a novel. I couldn’t write my own ending.
“I know you probably hate me for ghosting you,” I said in a rush, “I don’t blame you, but I need your help.”
I heard him blow out a breath. “Lydia, I can’t keep doing this.” Hurt laced his voice. And I’d put it there. The tears I’d been fighting so hard fell from my eyelids to trail rivulets of pain down my cheeks.
“I’m sorry, but you’re the only person I can talk to about this.” I took a deep breath and explained everything while he listened, grateful he didn’t hang up on me or worse yet, tell me to screw myself.
A moment of strained silence hung on the phone connection until I heard him curse, “I hate my brother.”
“No, you don’t hate him. Tristan is difficult to deal with, but even I don’t hate him.” I pressed my fingertips to my temple and smiled my relief, even though he couldn’t see it. Thank God, his anger was directed toward the correct person in spite of my boneheaded move today.
“Where are you?” Callum asked.
“I just left the coffee house.”
“Is Tristan following you?”
I looked around to make sure. “No.”
There was a long exhale, then, “Don’t move. I’ll be there as soon as I can. We can grab a bite to eat at Station Eight.”
After all that had happened, he was taking me to dinner just as he’d originally requested. Even hearing his voice just made me feel a little bit better.
“Thank you, Callum.” The emotion gushed from me as exhaustion took over. “Thank you so much.”
“It’s fine. I’ll see you soon. If my brother decides to chase you or do anything even the slightest bit strange or scary, don’t worry about my feelings. Call the police.”
“Of course,” I said and ended the call. Relief flooded through me.
All I had to do was wait for Callum. Then why did that feel even scarier than what I’d just gone through with Tristan?
I shall conquer this. I shall.
– Fitzwilliam Darcy
Chapter 16
Callum
When my taxi pulled up to the curb, Lydia was literally hanging on to a street sign as if holding the cold metal could comfort her and keep her upright and safe. Embarrassment lit her features when she spotted me. Her hand lifted, giving me a limp greeting.
Even though relief hit me with the force of a truck at the sight of her in one piece, I was still a little annoyed with her. She didn’t have to go this alone. I should have been with her, supporting her, when she talked to Tristan. I knew how to handle him. Shit. If I’d have been there, none of this would have happened, and my beautiful girl wouldn’t be standing on the street looking like she hung on the verge of homelessness. Lydia was the first girl I’d really cared about since Amelia. And that was huge.
Epic.
Although she didn’t know it. And tonight wasn’t the night to admit it.
Lydia snuggled into my waiting arms as soon as I got within touching distance. I soothed her, rubbing her hair and back. It felt like nirvana. She fit so perfectly, belonging in my arms.
“I have a headache,” she said on a deep sigh. After a few minutes with my brother, I understood.
“We’ll get you some Tylenol as soon as we get to the restaurant. It’s only a block. Will you be able to make it or should I get a cab?”
“I can walk.”
I pushed her hair away from her face. “Are we going to talk about this?”
She pulled away from me to stare out into the middle of the road at the cars whizzing by. Horns blared, and tires squealed. I knew she didn’t want to talk about it, but if we were going to get off on the right foot this time, the issue of Tristan needed to be settled between us.
“Your brother is a little touched,” Lydia said in a voice just above a whisper. I had to strain to hear her.
“That’s putting it mildly, I think.” It wasn’t a topic I wanted to revisit, but he’d forced the issue with his continued strange behavior. I wondered what he was hiding because behavior usually didn’t escalate to this degree in an adult unless something was really wrong.
Lydia pulled her gaze, her large eyes still damp with tears, from the passing cars. I knew she was tired. Hell, I was tired, and I had work the next day. So much for reading the Peterson contracts.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice croaked, like it was too much effort for her to summon up words. “I just...I...I thought I could help.”
“Do you realize what you’ve done?”
Lydia nodded. “Yes. I just had to do something to make things right again. You two were at such odds, and I caused it. I don’t like feeling that way. It’s not my way to cause trouble.”
I sighed and cupped her chin to force her gaze. “Lydia, things were bad between Tristan and me for years. You had nothing to do with it. Nothing. It’s all on Tristan. I’ve tried to meet him halfway, and he refuses. You’ll just have to let it go. Not everything requires or even deserves a happy ending like the ones you write about.”
“I know.” Her eyes fluttered shut, and I gave her chin a subtle shake to open them again. It was time to stop hiding from each other. I wanted honesty. I wanted openness. I wanted everything.
“You’re reckless, you know that?” I asked once our eyes were connected again. “How could you not know it wasn’t prudent to meet with my brother after all that�
�s happened, even in a public place?”
“It wasn’t like that.” Her voice faltered, thick with new tears, and I felt almost guilty at being the one to instigate them.
“Then explain.” I couldn’t control the amount of emotion in my voice. Annoyance born of fear and pain. If Tristan ever hurt her, I couldn’t handle it. No, I’d handle it. And then my own mother would never forgive me.
“I can’t,” she said, clearly struggling to find words. “You’d think I’m crazy.”
“Dammit, Lydia, I want to be with you. Isn’t that enough to get you to put down your armor? And if you want to be with me too, we need to start over. Can’t we do that right here and now?”
I didn’t want to hear her writer’s story. I wanted the cold, hard facts.
She shook her head. “It’s not that. It was just supposed to be a cup of coffee and an apology. Even if I had to weasel it out of him. Then, he apologized on his own, and I let down my guard, so proud of myself. I guess that was my first mistake.”
I actually understood that. I’d gotten sucked into those conversations all my life, only to have them turn on me before I realized what was happening.
“Nothing is ever easy when it comes to my brother. He’s a master manipulator. Don’t let it get you down.”
Lydia sighed deeply. I wondered if she could see the caring behind my words and intentions. I thought we were both alike, rational and dependable. Maybe she was really more like Tristan in many ways. And Amelia.
I couldn’t stop my mind from going there. I didn’t want to compare her to Amelia, but I didn’t stop it either. They were alike. So very much.
And in the end, somehow, they had both turned to my brother when they should have turned to me. Betrayal knifed through me, cutting deep and true.
“I like you.”
Her words pulled me from my thoughts. “Then why?” I felt the frustration grow again. “Why would you turn to my brother even if you’re saying you did it to help me? Especially after what we shared. You know how I feel about him.”
Her crying had subsided to little sniffles, and she sniffed hard to push them back. “I just…I had to see if the feelings were real,” she said, wiping away the tears still gleaming in her eyes. “Because I’d never felt anything like it before. I’ve written about it. Time and again. But I’d never felt it. Do you know what kind of a fraud that makes me?”
Her face crumpled, but it wasn’t from sadness or even fear this time. Maybe self–disgust.
She looked at me again. “When I met with Tristan, my vulnerability all came rushing back. Because I don’t feel anything for him but fear and disgust. It’s all you, Callum. And that scares the shit out of me.”
My heart pounded hard in my chest. “It is?”
There was a long pause between us before she answered. “Yes, and I won’t talk to your brother again. I swear.”
When she said it, she did so with such conviction that I had to believe her. “That’s good news.”
“God, how could I have been so stupid?” Lydia sighed. “I hope I haven’t done irreparable damage to your family dynamics. I’m so sorry.”
I gathered her to my side as we walked. “It’ll be okay.” I didn’t know what more to say. Time would tell if we could both be open enough with each other to become a solid couple. Lord knew the desire, connection, and admiration were all there. Now, we just needed the honesty and the communication.
Lydia’s fingers tightened into my side. “Thank you. I’ll make it up to you.” I didn’t want her to make it up to me. I just wanted her, every part of her. I sighed deeply.
“If this is going to happen, then you can’t do this, alright? Like not at all.” I was serious. She watched me, her eyes bright and red. “No more talking to Tristan unless I’m with you? Promise?”
“I promise,” Lydia said, clutching my hand as if it were a lifeline. “And thank you for coming. I’m so glad we talked face to face. Something like this isn’t appropriate for technology.”
“It’s no problem.” Her apology made me feel a little bit better. “No more hiding anything.”
“I know.” Lydia wore her regret like a mask. She probably regretted ever answering his first hand–written letter. “I just want to get past this. I know we can get past it. Start over.”
Yes, we can.
“Yup. Nothing’s better than starting over.” I stopped short, and she skidded to a halt at my side. Her wide eyes would be my undoing. I held out my hand for her to shake. “I’m Callum Markham.”
Lydia laughed softly, the effervescent sound tinkling my ears and stirring my body. “Nice to meet you, Callum.” But she didn’t take my hand. Instead, she launched herself into my arms.
I twirled her around before setting her back on her feet. “What are you doing, crazy lady? Do you always launch yourself like a human cannon at guys you’ve just met?”
She squeezed me tighter. “I’m a hugger.”
Let us not quarrel about the past.
– Elizabeth Bennet
Chapter 17
Lydia
I chose Grounds Zero as my office. I wanted work to take place in public. I needed it to be public. And neutral. The chance to suck down a fortifying vanilla latte while I brainstormed to the lilting tune of white noise didn’t hurt matters. Maybe I’d make it a double.
Since it was a regular work day for me, I had adopted Grounds Zero as my home away from home, finding the constant chatter, brewing, and grinding emanating from the coffee shop soothing to my creative spirit. Next to my notebook sat the largest latte available, and a plate with three chocolate chip cookies, one half eaten.
Ever since the spectacular night with Callum, I’d been inspired and raring to work each day on my latest novel. I couldn’t lie and say that parts of that encounter hadn’t made their way to the page. I wish I’d had a second encounter to write about, but we hadn’t had sex since that first time. I think we both needed to take our time and not let sex blur what was happening between us.
Lost in daydreams about the man himself, my page lay open before me, half–empty and full of thoughts but not completed sentences. I had written the date in a beautiful script, but I hadn’t progressed much past that and some scraggly yearnings wrought with unrequited emotions.
I stared out the window, lifting my cup to my lips every three or so minutes as I waited for inspiration to strike. I had so many thoughts and ideas but remained unsure of how I wanted to piece them together for maximum effect. I just had to pace myself. I tapped my pen against my lips.
Luckily, the coffee shop was open late because I’d be here a while.
At half past one, I had been sitting at the little table by the window for over four hours when the bell over the door jingled. Glancing up, I froze when Tristan breezed in, indulging in a grand pause just inside the shop. His face fell in abject disappointment when no one recognized him. I snuggled as deep into my chair as the worn padding would allow, remaining as tiny and inconspicuous as possible. The last thing I needed was an altercation with him. Just like in one of my novels, someone who should be a friend to me had instead morphed into a nemesis. And I wanted no part of him or his drama.
No such luck.
“So.” He collapsed into the seat across from me, as if he had deigned to take hours from his busy schedule of sleeping all day and performing at night to drag himself for a cup of Joe.
“So…?” I cleared my throat, and stared at him blankly, hoping he’d take the hint.
Get the fuck out of my sight, asshole. Can’t you take a hint?
The only thing that kept me from railing those words at him was his DNA. No matter how much I disliked him, no matter how much Callum disliked him, civility reigned supreme in any familial dealings. Since the moment Callum and I had started our relationship over, I’d learned more about their family background of wealth and privilege. But with that also came great responsibility. Tristan had been buckling under the pressure for years. I almost felt sorry for him.
But only almost.
“Play’s going great, thanks for asking.” His words dripped sarcasm. When I still said nothing, he asked, “How’s the book?” He was polite but stiff. He had to know he wasn’t wanted. I’d made that fact perfectly clear during our last encounter. I stared at him, wondering how I could’ve ever been attracted to him. He was handsome, but now the anger lurking just underneath the surface leant his charming demeanor a sinister quality that sickened me.
He was like a ticking time bomb set to explode when the sand ran out on the hourglass of sanity.
“The book is fine. It’s going better than I expected.”
He smiled, and even his smile was taught and rigid. He was wound so tightly, and I expected him to exit the current conversation at any moment and veer it off in the ditch just to assuage his desire to ignite.
I felt like the glass had shattered. I’d been so wildly infatuated with him, so flattered that one man could be that romantic and into me that I totally missed the warning signs, even though red flags had flown at every turn.
“I don’t know how you can stand to spend so much time in this place,” Tristan muttered.
“Because I love it here. I love the energy,” I said. Why was I even lowering myself to a defense of something that was none of his damn business? Disgusted with myself and my lack of courage, I felt a blush rise to my cheeks.
Around us, people’s days continued. Mothers talked in groups, swaying strollers with their hands, a businessman in a fitted suit tapped away on a laptop.
Tristan didn’t seem convinced. I wondered how a person that had everything going for him, that came from a wealthy and close family, got himself to the point where he started to lose touch with reality. I thought about my own rising fame. If notoriety would do that to me, I wanted none of it. I made a mental note to discuss it with Poppy since I wasn’t even close to being the most famous author in her stable.
Line: Alpha Billionaire Romance Page 16
