by Dee Palmer
“Atticus!” I screech my interruption, feeling the heat of humiliation sprint like a hellfire across my chest and neck, settling like a mask on my beet red face. “What are you doing here?”
“Hoping to make love to you again, but judging by the look on your face, I’m now sort of hoping you’re not going to call the police.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender.
“You’re not a dream?” I feel like such a dumbass for saying it out loud.
“Flesh and bone, princess.”
His eyes dip to the sizeable erection he’s not remotely interested in hiding, and I bury my head in the sheet in my clenched hands, crying out in muffled mortification.
“Oh God!”
“Hmm, yes, now that’s more like it.” I feel the bed dip again as he presses his hands flat, his weight shifting as he starts a slow, predatory crawl over the surface toward my huddled form. I hold my palm out, halting him before he gets too close. Bolting the stable door comes to mind.
“No! No! And put some clothes on, Cass. This is not happening.” I tuck the entire sheet aggressively around my body to ensure maximum coverage and stomp the short distance to the bathroom. Atticus has the decency to suppress the beginnings of a wicked, knowing grin itching to dominate his smug, handsome face. I’m so furious right now, I just don’t know with whom. I get a sick twist in my gut that it’s most likely me.
After several soul searching minutes, I peek out of the door. I heard the creak of the floorboards a little while ago when he supposedly went downstairs but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s tricked me with that one, scaling the wall like Spiderman to avoid making a sound and scaring the crap out of me in the process. However, I feel safe enough to venture back into my bedroom since there’s the smell of cooking breakfast and enough noise from pots and pans to make me think the Swedish Chef is preparing breakfast.
Tugging my jeans up my legs, I smart at the ache in every single muscle as I perform the most basic task of getting dressed. I take a second look at all the red kiss-shaped bruises on my inner thighs and curse my slutty self.
How heart broken can I be exactly, to not just welcome Atticus with open arms but wide open legs too.
Fuck, I feel sick. Oh, shit I’m going to be sick. I rush to the bathroom and heave mostly liquid into the bowl until my stomach rolls angrily that it’s got nothing left to give. I don’t remember the last time I had a full meal, which is a good thing at the moment because I’m unable to keep much of anything down. If I didn’t know better… “You’re a slut.” I scold my reflection in the mirror, only I can’t hold my gaze for too long, I’m so ashamed.
“You’re not.” Atticus’s eyes crinkle at the edge with obvious concern, and his tone is deeply irritated and clipped with reprimand. “You’re dealing with a lot of shit, Tia, and you sought comfort in the arms of someone who loves you and who you love. Nothing wrong in that. If it gives you comfort, you were pretty convinced it was a dream—almost had me believing it for a while—and then you did that thing…”
“Atticus please, not helping.” I groan with self-loathing and quickly rinse my face. Rubbing it dry on my t-shirt, I look up and meet his reflection. “It felt like a dream.”
“It was better than any dream.” He boldly holds my gaze, and I find I can’t look away. He’s always been so sure, so confident, and he was always mine. His soft smile is warm, wide and familiar. This is a fucking mess.
“You’re not supposed to be in the country. How are you here? Why?” To stop my wayward thoughts, I fire at him with more pertinent questions.
“Come on downstairs, I’ve made sausage and egg sandwiches and crappy coffee. We can talk. I think it’s long overdue.” He flashes a cocky wink, and I let out a flat laugh at his biblical understatement.
“Yeah, long overdue.”
He looks strangely comfortable sitting at the end of the small bench seat, twisting at the waist so his long legs can find enough room to spread. Mine manage to fit with my knees skimming the underside of the table every time I move. I lick the salty grease and ketchup from my lips and push the empty plate away.
“Mmmm, this is so good. I didn’t realise how hungry I was.” Picking up the coffee, I take a sip and wash the taste of breakfast down with the bitter bite of unsweetened coffee. I wrinkle my nose and make a mental note to myself to get some sugar.
“I did,” He chuckles, “Your rumbling stomach kept me awake most of the night, well, that and your snoring.”
“I do not snore.”
“Oh yes, you do, but it’s cute.” He taps my nose, gathers the plates and starts to wash them up. “So why are you here?”
“Long story.” I try to shrug but the weight of everything prevents even that small dismissive gesture. I shuffle around so I’m facing him, with a leg either side of the bench seat.
“Think I have time enough to spare. I’ve got nowhere else to be right now, princess.” He peers over his shoulder and raises an encouraging brow.
“And why is that exactly?” I sniff and tighten my lips. If this is a Q and A session, it’s going to start with his As. He rubs his hands dry on his jeans and swings his leg over the bench so he is straddling the wood directly in front of me and his knees are touching mine.
“Okay, what do you want to know?” He hunches so we are eye level, and I feel the heat from his body like a tropical storm, intense and a little bit scary.
“You told everyone who I am?”
“I did.”
“Why? I don’t want any of it. It’s like a poisoned chalice, Cass. I’m not interested in any of it.”
“None of it? What about Tartarus?” He tilts his head in genuine surprise.
“Not even the Hall, or what’s left of it. No.” My tone is adamant even as I can feel the turmoil of mixed emotions. I really don’t know. I let out a heavy sigh and offer with a fair degree of reticence, “Maybe I do want the lodge, since I have nowhere else to go.”
“You’re very wrong about that. Look, Tia, if you want to sell it all and simply have a fat bank account, do it. The point is: Now, you can do whatever you want. However, I had to make sure everyone knows who you are. It was the only way to keep you safe.” His throat bobs with the effort to swallow, and I sense the subtle shift from informative to serious.
“How is that exactly? Surely that makes me more of a target?”
“My mother is the only person who is a real threat; she always has been. Unfortunately, I only recently became aware of the extent of her focus. Anyway, now that your place in the family is known she will not attempt to hurt you.”
“Again,” I fire back, and he acknowledges the hit with a slow, painful blink.
“Again.”
The sadness and regret blazing in his eyes takes me by surprise. I thread my fingers with his and let them rest between us.
He twists his lips into a strained smile when he speaks. “Besides, she’s likely to be spending a fair a few years in jail.”
“I can’t believe you did that.”
“Really? You can’t?”
“Well, maybe I can.” I sniff, and both of us let the truth of that settle without a hint humour.
“Why didn’t you call the police?” he asks after a short pause.
“It wasn’t my call. You didn’t kidnap and stab me.”
“Or blow you up.”
“Well, I never thought that was you. You love that place.”
“Loved and, yeah, I did. Why didn’t Logan turn me in?”
“He didn’t want to do anything that might make me hate him.” I repeat the reason and Atticus recoils with confusion.
“But kicking you out wouldn’t make you hate him?”
“I’m aware of the irony.”
“He loves you enough to accept you love me. That’s pretty smart.”
“Yeah I’m feeling all kinds of loved right now,” I retort flatly and redirect the conversation back away from Logan. That particular thick fog of thoughts will take more than a midmorning confessiona
l to clear. “And what about the mess she got you into?”
“I’m still negotiating. Sebastian has pretty much convinced the authorities I had nothing to do with the disappearing funds, and the pension is secure, thanks to you.”
“Sebastian?”
“Mr Waterhouse.”
I nod. “So you can carry on as CEO.”
“Technically I can, when the other situation is sorted, if it’s what you want?”
“I don’t know.”
“Take your time, Tia. I’m going nowhere. Whatever you decide, I will support you.” He picks up my hand and clasps it between his, kissing the fingertips, and I feel the tingle from his lips as if he’s kissing the length of my spine and just round to the front of my body too.
“Atticus, I don’t understand how you can simply hand it all over, like it’s nothing. This was your whole life. The Kraus Corporation was your destiny, and to give it up, it just doesn’t sit right.”
“None of this sits right. Trust me, if you weren’t the heir, I would fight it, and I’d win. But the truth is you are my destiny, always have been, always will be. Your whole life was ruined by lies and Kraus family secrets, you deserve more than I could ever repay.” His hand clenches into a ball. His long lashes flutter, and he lifts his head to fix his piercing eyes on me. He clears his throat before hitting me with the most heartfelt declaration I think I’ve ever heard. “There’s no point mourning the loss of something that was never mine, not when my life depends upon winning back the only person who was ever truly mine.” A heavy silence settles, and although I hold his gaze, I find I can’t reply, after long seconds where the only sound is our synchronised breathing and the tick tock of the kitchen clock, I manage to speak.
“And the other stuff?”
“It’s why I’m hiding out here; in plain sight, as it were. My digital trail has me bouncing around the globe until it’s sorted.”
“Will it get sorted?”
“Yes, it’s just going to take time. The diamonds bought me time, and there are some other assets I can liquidate to clear the debt. I have to hope that’s enough.”
“If you pay it all back, surely—”
“It doesn’t quite work like that,” he cuts in, and I hate the way my stomach drops at the unspoken threat I can see etching his face with genuine worry. He hides it well, just not well enough. “Anyway what about you? Why are you here? Why the fuck did that idiot let you go?”
“For my safety.” I scoff. “It’s funny how keeping me safe seems to result in breaking my fucking heart.” I let out a slow breath because my poor attempt at sarcasm felt a little too raw. Atticus pulls me closer, but not quite on his lap. He manoeuvres us both so his arms are wrapped around me, my back resting against his chest, his head heavy on my shoulder. His warm breath is a little too close to my ear, and I shudder with the first deep breath, mine or his, I’m not sure.
“Safe from what?”
“His psycho sister,”
“You know what? I don’t actually care. I care about you, but in this instance, it’s his loss. You’re here, and that makes me the luckiest man on the planet.”
“I love him, Atticus.” I can feel his muscles bunch around me with tension, and this close to his face, I can hear his teeth grind when he speaks.
“And if he loved you, he wouldn’t have let you go.”
“Pot-kettle, mister” I scoff.
“Touché.” He places a smiling kiss against my cheek. “Do you fancy a walk? Maybe go to the boathouse and—”
“Is there much damage?” I tilt my face to see his eyes glass with water.
“Yeah.”
“I’m so sorry Atticus.”
“If it was down to me I’d rebuild her, but it’s not my call anymore.”
“I guess not.” I’m trying not to let the enormity of it all bury me under the aftermath.
“Come on, princess, let’s have some fun.” He picks me up as he stands and spins me mid air only to catch me and let me slide painfully slowly down his firm, fit body.
“I think that might be a stretch even for you.” His body may be the perfect distraction and feel all kinds of sinfully good on the outside, but my heart is in tatters.
“Oh ye of little faith, did you forget how good I am at distracting you?” He waggles his brow playfully, and I place my hands on his chest and tell him.
“I wasn’t me that forgot.” I don’t mean for it to sound to harsh. Well, maybe I do.
“I did. I forgot us. I forgot it all, Tia.” He sounds so solemn, and the soul-sad regret clouding his eyes makes me look away. “I believed my mother, and for that, I will never forgive myself. I hope I can spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” His sincerity is as pure as the look he is laying on me. I step back to give myself the chance to breathe.
“One day at a time, Cass.”
“I can live with that.” He closes the distance, and I have to laugh; of course he wouldn’t give me space.
“Can you live with the fact that I also love another man?” I hold my ground, and he grins, takes may hand, and leads me to follow.
“Let’s walk.”
I can’t believe she’s here. I can’t believe she didn’t kick my arse out as soon as she realised this wasn’t all a dream. I had a momentary flash of guilt when I knew she wasn’t really with me last night. Her eyes were glazed, and it was pretty apparent she was worn weary with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her face has never looked so pale, red-rimmed eyes, lashes drenched with tears, and swollen lids. Her chest heaved, wracking her small body with uncontrollable sobs. The god-awful sound was tearing her apart and ripped my own damn heart in two. I stood at the door and wrestled with my conscience for no time at all before I had to go to her, hold her, ease the agony that was destroying her before my very eyes.
Fuck, her soft, salt-tinged lips felt so good as they quivered against mine. I couldn’t have stopped if I’d wanted to. Stopping was the last thing I wanted. I knew I could make her feel good, even if it was only going to be for one night. She needed the dream of us, to escape whatever nightmare she was trapped in, and I wanted to give her at least that much, because she deserved so much more.
I reach my hand back and out to her without expectation, and my heart halts with hope for a fraction of time that feels like an eternity, until I feel her fingers thread with mine. The only sound is the gravel crunching beneath our feet and the birds in the trees above our heads as we walk up toward the main house in an all too familiar and welcome easy silence. The sun is midway in the sky and would be hidden by the high stone walls of Tartarus Hall if it wasn’t in a desolate state of rubble and ruin. We both shield our eyes from the bright rays, and I feel my stomach drop at the exact same time Tia gasps at the unearthly sight filling the horizon. Her feet are rooted where she stands, and I have to tug her to respond and continue up the drive. Each step is hesitant, unreal, and her wide eyes fill with tears, just as mine have done every time I look at what’s left of my home.
“Oh Cass!” She exhales, the magnitude of the devastation coating her tone with such sadness I feel it in my soul. My throat constricts when I reply, and I reel from the sudden surge of emotion. Seeing it through her eyes is like seeing it raw for the first time.
“Yeah,” I choke and grab for the comfort she immediately squeezes into my hand.
“There’s nothing left.” She stumbles forward, her steps gaining speed before her body is quite ready. I try to steady her, but she pulls away and races the last few hundred yards to the bottom of the main steps. She turns to face me, tears streaking her cheeks, and her tone is filled with utter disbelief. “I thought the building would’ve been okay. Its ancient stone, thick and sturdy. It’s survived two world wars for crissake.” She shakes her head and holds her face, incredulous and broken. “I mean, I know the oak panelling wouldn’t have survived the fire but this is a fucking castle, Cass.”
“If it was just a fire, you’d be right, but there were several explosions
which took out the rest of the house. It’s not a complete write-off.”
“It isn’t?” Her hand is shaking when she sweeps it wide over the entire surroundings.
“It is bad, but the foundations are intact. The orangery around the back is pretty much okay, and look over there. The east wing and tower are mostly still standing.” I point and her eyes take in the scorched tower.
“Show me.”
“We can’t go up there; it’s not stable. I was waiting to speak to you to get the go-ahead to make it safe at least.”
“Cass, please do whatever you need to do. This is so awful. Your grandfather would be heartbroken.” She runs her hand under her nose, sniffing back the tears.
“Don’t you think he deserves to be heartbroken?”
“A little bit, yes. Honestly, I’m so tired of it all. The lies, the deceit, the time wasted.” She turns away from me and takes a few steps. Her shoulders shake with sadness, and her feet falter. Her voice floats over the debris. “I won’t ever understand why he did what he did. To me, if I was lucky enough to have a grandchild, I wouldn’t care what sex it was, I wouldn’t love it any less, or value it more because it had a dick. Oskar was of a generation, where it did matter; after all, he married someone for the sake of the company. It wasn’t the only thing he did I never understood.” She gives a dismissive shrug, letting the decisions of the past roll off her shoulders and lighten her gait as she picks her way through the remnants of my family home.
“He betrayed me too.” She nods with tender understanding softening her features. “I know it’s not a fraction of what he did to you, but he always told me I was like a son to him, yet he never told me the truth. He was the only one, outside of you, I ever trusted, and now I know it was all lies.” I suck in a deep breath and drop my head, run my fingers through my hair, and massage the tension tightening the muscles in my neck. I walk over to where Tia is standing, her toes lifting parts of kitchen furniture that are burnt and broken. She faces where the great fireplace has cracked and crumbled to the ground, a massive fissure having split the solid stone in two. One of the spaghetti straps of her summer dress has fallen off her shoulder, and with the tip of my finger, I move it back into place, relishing the slew of goosebumps my gentle touch leaves in its wake. Her skin is like silk, and it takes every ounce of restraint not to kiss her neck. She shudders when I step away, and despite the warm heat of the sun beating down on us, she wraps her arms around herself and shivers. I know I did that and it is enough, for now. “What my mother did actually came as no surprise, but what he did has affected me greatly.” I continue to kick my way through the rubble and try to explain the murky waters where my mind is currently wading. “I hate I never got the chance to tell him how wrong he was.”
