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Forbidden Desires

Page 122

by Jenna Hartley


  “Breaking up should have been that way too. You took it upon yourself to make the decision without me,” she pointed out, and my jaw clenched. I braced myself for the fight she had decided we were going to have.

  “It’s for the best.”

  She reined in her temper. “I know why you’re doing this.”

  Panic struck me. How could she know? “Then you understand why it has to be this way,” I said, keeping my voice controlled and even.

  She reached for my hand, her touch more than I could bear, yet I couldn’t withdraw my fingers from hers. I didn’t want to. This was the first time in days I’d felt whole.

  “I saw the autopsy report,” she said softly, kindness and under‐ standing in her eyes. Autopsy report? What was she talking about?

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  I hated the sympathy in her expression, as if she thought I was playing coy. I wasn’t. I literally couldn’t think of what she could possibly mean. What would an autopsy report have to do with the two of us breaking up?

  * * *

  “Your father,” she clarified, and I flinched. Any time I thought of him I had a physical reaction.

  “What exactly did you see in that report, Vivian?” I asked, my tone demanding that she start explaining despite that I felt like I was being tossed about in a rough sea.

  “The official cause of his death was suicide,” she began. “But every bone in his body was shattered. There were handprints around his neck under the rope.”

  I shot out of my seat. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  She recoiled. “He was murdered,” she said quietly. “You’re protecting me from that.”

  “Do you know that for certain?” My reaction was vicious, but so much rage and confusion was spewing through my veins, I could barely think straight, much less process her words. Murdered?

  Vivian paled, her confidence gone. “No. But it’s the only thing that makes sense.” And then I fully registered what she’d said. She thought I was protecting her from this knowledge…which meant she thought I had killed my father. And she still wanted me back? That realization took the anger right out of me. I looked at her in disbelief.

  “And you wouldn’t care if I’d taken someone’s life?”

  Her black hair flew as she shook her head. “I only care how it affects you now.” I didn’t know what to do with that. Hope filled her eyes. “So we don’t have to be apart. Whatever happened doesn’t matter.”

  She might as well have struck me. “You don’t mean that,” I said, imploring her not to.

  Vivian lifted her chin. “Of course I do.”

  I squeezed her shoulders. “Let this go. I mean it.” Her head tilted. “But the report.”

  “Whatever it said is irrelevant,” I stated firmly.

  She narrowed her gaze on me, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. “You didn’t know he was murdered,” she concluded.

  “I said leave it, Vivian.”

  “So that isn’t why you left me?” At the realization, she deflated. I couldn’t force any words past my lips.

  Desperation filled her eyes. “Let me show you. It’s in the closet.” She moved, but I halted her with a look. Now I knew exactly where she’d seen the report.

  “I destroyed the file yesterday.” Her eyes widened. “Why?”

  “The file had no place in my life anymore, so I shredded it.” I looked at the machine I’d fed it to, regretting that it was pulverized. In my haste to destroy anything to do with my father, I’d made a serious error in judgement.

  “Daniel?” Vivian’s expression was one of worry.

  “This changes nothing. You’ll be gone when I get back,” I said harshly as I shrugged on my jacket. She flinched as if I’d struck her, and my chest squeezed, unable to stand her pain. I strode past her, turning when I reached the door. She stared at me, looking lost and confused. “It’s good to know you think I’m a murderer, Vivian. Thanks for that.”

  Chapter 23

  VIVIAN

  * * *

  Present

  * * *

  I SHOULD HAVE LISTENED to Muriella. I’d spent the last few hours in her apartment lamenting over the conversation with Daniel. She’d been level-headed and logical when it came to him and that autopsy, whereas I’d bulldozed through it straight to the wrong conclusion. I had to try to make it right.

  My feet carried me up the stairs from M’s apartment to Daniel’s door. I raised my fist to knock and then thought better of it, digging in my purse for a pen and a piece of paper. I scribbled the words ‘I’m sorry’ on it and slid the note under the door. I couldn’t stand that I’d hurt Daniel, and even if he wanted nothing to do with me, I needed to apologize.

  The elevator doors opened, and Giselle stepped out. I’d have preferred being struck in the head with a blunt object.

  “Vivian,” she said brightly, her smile so friendly that a wobbly one formed on my lips. “Daniel didn’t mention you were coming over for dinner. He’s not home yet, but if you’d like to come in…” Her offer was genuine. She took out a set of keys and opened the front door. “Vivian? Are you all right?”

  “I have to go,” I croaked, pressing the call button for the elevator, which mercifully was still there.

  I stepped inside and leaned against the side wall for support. Muriella and I were wrong. He was serious about her. She had a key to our house.

  My heart beat frantically in my chest. It was hard to breathe, but somehow I pushed air in and out of my lungs. Calm down, Vivian.

  “Why? Why the fuck should I calm down?” I asked out loud as the elevator came to a stop on the ground floor. The doors slid open, but my feet didn’t move, and Daniel stepped inside, starting when he saw me huddled in the corner.

  He stiffened, his expression turning arctic. “I told you to be gone.”

  Those words injected me with anger, and I straightened, stepping into his space. “I know what I accused—”

  “Assumed,” he interjected. Our eyes warred with one another. “Assumed earlier. For that, I understand why you’re upset with me.

  I’m sorry. I’m not going to stand here and feed you all the excuses for why I came to the conclusion I did. Regardless of how you feel about me now, I know that hurt you, and I can’t stand I did that,” I said, soft‐ ening my tone.

  Daniel said nothing, an unreadable look on his face.

  “But I refuse to let you treat me as if I’m rotten garbage. You left me out of the blue. Under the circumstances, I think I’ve handled it pretty fucking well. Until you tell me exactly what happened, don’t speak to me like I’m nothing. Like we didn’t just spend nearly a decade sharing a life. Because we did. You haven’t forgotten that. You’re just really good at pretending it didn’t happen.”

  Still nothing from him.

  “So go on upstairs, but we both know, when you walk in that door, you’ll wish it was me on the other side. When she kisses you, it will be me you’re kissing. When you go to sleep, it’s me you’ll be holding in your arms.” I struggled to hold myself together as images of him with another woman pierced my mind. “I’m wrong about a lot of things, but not about us. What we have doesn’t just die. I know you feel our separation. Right here.” I put my hand on his heart, and he stopped breathing, like he did when we first met. He gripped my wrist, panic in his eyes. My pulse throbbed against his fingers. “Even if we never see each other again, it will never be over. Never.”

  I pressed a button on the panel, and the doors opened on the lobby. Daniel released my wrist abruptly, and I ignored the pain that spread across my chest. Without looking back, I exited with my head held high when all I really wanted to do was curl into a ball on the floor. Outside, I was so lost in thought from the roller coaster of the day’s events, I didn’t notice the pickup truck slow to a crawl beside me until I heard the hum of the window roll down. My eyes nearly bugged out of my head when I saw who was behind the wheel.

  “Well, I’
ll be damned.” “Need a ride, stranger?”

  The passenger door was opened from inside, and I climbed in. “Nice choice in music,” I said. Johnny Cash blared about going down in the ring of fire. A calloused hand turned down the volume a notch. “And you’re the stranger.”

  Stone Jacobs gave me the panty-melting grin that had won over the women of the world when he flashed it on the big screen. In person, it was even more devastating. The hottest thing in Hollywood leaned over and kissed my cheek. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Vivian.” He was a native Texan, a connection that had bonded us from the start.

  “I know you haven’t been in town more than five minutes without calling us,” I scolded, and then my face fell as I realized I’d referred to me and Daniel as a couple when we no longer were.

  “Where’s the big man?” he asked casually.

  I swallowed hard, unable to mask my reaction. My heart felt like it had been punched by a fist with brass knuckle rings. “We broke up.”

  He took a few beats to just stare at me. Then he finally asked, “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered.

  Stone flipped up the center console, hooked an arm around my back, and pulled me to him, pressing my head to his chest. Underneath all that sex symbol, celebrity status was just a good old country boy, who was a decent and simple man. Daniel had met him six years ago at a poker night put on by one of the studio executives. They’d hit it off over expensive whiskey and their disdain for social functions with virtual strangers, both finding themselves at the party out of professional necessity. Whiskey was the great unifier, or at least reason enough to become friends, and Daniel invited him to our home for dinner in an unprecedented move. He’d been part of our inner circle ever since.

  Stone had been busy over the last couple of years, so we didn’t see him as often as we’d have liked. We’d gone on annual trips together, but lately his schedule was so jam-packed, he’d had to cancel. Seeing him now, it hit me how much I’d missed our friend. I hated that his crazy life had caused us to drift apart. I hoped we could rectify that situation sooner rather than later.

  “How do you feel about taking a drive?” he asked me.

  “Beats the hell out of going to an empty apartment.” He was a godsend. I needed a distraction, and a friend.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” Stone said, putting the truck in gear and pulling into traffic.

  As he drove uptown for a while, I unloaded the whole depressing tale on him. As I listened to myself, I still couldn’t believe it. “It’s inconceivable to me he could have already moved on, but by all appearances he has.”

  “Nah. There’s no way in hell he’s really with this chick. He doesn’t have to say a damn word to communicate how he feels about you, V. That doesn’t just go away,” he insisted, maneuvering around Columbus Circle three times just for the hell of it.

  “I don’t know how to get him back. I can’t even get through to him.” I rolled the window down and stuck my head out, letting the cool night air hit my face. Stone used the controls on his side of the truck to begin rolling it back up. “What are you doing?” I yelped, retracting my head inside the cab.

  * * *

  “You’re polluting my truck,” he said before he grinned and powered the window back down.

  “You almost chopped my head off,” I protested dramatically.

  He ruffled my hair like I was his kid sister. “Aww, it wasn’t that close.”

  He laughed, and after a few seconds, I joined him, the sound foreign to my ears.

  “Thanks for the distraction.”

  “You’re welcome. If you figure out a way I can help, let me know.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “How’s Muriella?”

  It was dark, but I could see his eyes shining with interest. He’d never pushed her—partly because Daniel had warned him off— despite having a crush on her since the first time he’d seen her.

  “You should call her and ask yourself.” “I’d rather see her in person.”

  I bet you would, Cowboy. “You’ve always struck me as the kind of man who goes after what he wants. What have you been waiting on?” I asked bluntly. It was rare to have a one-on-one conversation without Daniel or Muriella around. I could have said something before—we were close enough for that—but I had been reluctant to put Muriella in that position, even if it was for her own good.

  He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “There’s no one way to draw out a skittish horse. Each one requires its own special touch.” Stone turned toward me, his expression serious. “Muriella hasn’t been ready.” I didn’t disagree, but on the other hand, he couldn’t wait forever. “If I’d forced it, I’d have lost her for good.”

  “All of that’s true. I don’t want her to get hurt—”

  “I would never hurt her,” Stone growled, teeth grinding.

  “I wasn’t insinuating you would.” I paused, trying to best explain things without taking away Muriella’s right to tell her own story. “It’s delicate.”

  “Daniel’s made that perfectly clear,” he said almost bitterly. “But I’m done waiting. There’s a time when you either take the leap or stay on solid ground and get nowhere.”

  I placed a hand on his forearm. “Just—hell, you know what to do.

  I’m the last person to be giving advice anyway.”

  The tension in his face faded, and he gave me a sheepish grin. “Think you could put in a good word for me?”

  “I can do better than that.”

  Chapter 24

  VIVIAN

  * * *

  Eight Years Earlier

  * * *

  “I’VE HEARD “HOLIDAY” no less than sixty-two times. No more.”

  Six days of Madonna, and Daniel had reached his limit. The radio signals had been spotty at best since we’d begun our travels across the South Island of New Zealand. Lucky for us, I usually carried the Immaculate Collection CD in my purse in case I had to work late and needed some psych music.

  “Stop being so dramatic,” I groaned. “It’s only been forty-seven.” I pressed ‘play’…again.

  He continued to sulk until he spotted a used music store as we drove through a little town. He parked the SUV faster than I could say material girl and jumped out. He was already scouring the bins when the bell above the door jingled, announcing my arrival. I let him do his thing while I pawed through a crate marked for clearance. I found something I thought we could both agree on and meandered over to where he was flicking through a row of jewel cases.

  “This should do,” he said, selecting one. The clear plastic case was cracked, but he didn’t care, just happy to have found something else to listen to. It was Stone Temple Pilots, the Purple album.

  “Oh, not that,” I complained, and he looked downright elated at my disdain.

  “Oh, yes.” He started toward the register with me on his heels. “Daniel, please. I can’t take that music. It’ll make me crazy.” I tugged on his arm as he placed the CD on the counter. The clerk rang it up.

  “Then you’ll know how I feel,” Daniel said with a saccharine smile.

  I slapped my own find of Super Hits from the ’50s and ’60s on the counter, and he eyed it suspiciously. “You can’t argue with this,” I said matter-of-factly.

  “I wasn’t going to.”

  The guy behind the register looked from me to Daniel, unsure if he was supposed to ring up my CD or not. Daniel nodded, and we were out the door, his steps light as we returned to the car. Daniel opened the case where Purple was housed, popped it out and ringed his pinky with the disc. He happily ejected Madonna from the player and deposited his CD into the dash.

  He skipped to the second song, and I sang along at the top of my lungs, down to the last syllable. Daniel’s eyes widened. “What in God’s name have I gotten myself into?”

  STONE TEMPLE PILOTS played as we washed dishes after supper. To celebrate our arrival to Queenstown, we’d grilled shrimp and scallops and vegeta
ble skewers on the back deck of the lakeside condo Daniel had booked. While we cooked, we’d polished off a bottle of sauvignon blanc from a vineyard we’d toured earlier in the week. I dried off a plate, and he went to the fridge to retrieve a second bottle. I was already feeling good, but figured one more glass wouldn’t hurt.

  “You do realize we’ve made it six days and haven’t killed each other.”

  Daniel held up his hand and we high-fived. “We’re record setters.”

  I snorted, warm from the wine, but mostly from him. “Only took two to end up in the same bed.”

  He snagged me by the waist and pulled me flush against him. “Maybe that’s why we’re getting along so famously.”

  His lips hovered just above mine. I locked my fingers behind his neck and pressed on my toes. From his first touch, I’d become addicted.

  I tugged on his neck and braced for the current that was sure to follow. His mouth was sweet from the wine when I brushed mine against his. Sparks crackled between us, igniting the urgency simmering just below my surface.

  “Don’t tease me. If you’re going to kiss me, then kiss me.” His low growl shot straight to my stomach.

  I smashed my lips to his, heat threatening to consume me. He gripped my hips and held me against his solid length. A hand slipped under my shirt and splayed against my back. Hot. Possessive. Just like his kiss.

  I curled my fingers into the collar of his shirt and slipped my tongue into his mouth. Need surged, drawing us together. Each touch tethered me to him to the point I wasn’t sure I’d ever break free, or that I’d want to.

  When I finally peeled my lips from his, I swayed. Daniel steadied me, his fingers pressing into my skin.

  “Me too, Princess. Me too,” he whispered against my forehead.

 

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