Be My Always: A BWWM Romance (Make It Marriage Book 1)

by Nia Arthurs

  Attempted murder, at the very least. I doubt the suits will stand by and allow me to go all the way.

  I can feel the head of security eyeing me already.

  Muscles coiling.

  Ready to pounce.

  He’s been itching to tear into me. I can tell. But the only way he can hurt me is if I hurt the boss first.

  A possibility growing by the minute.

  His dream might come true soon.

  My chest expands with a heavy breath.

  My fingers crack. Each one curling into my palm. Into a fist.

  The fury builds like a raging hurricane.

  Maybe I need therapy. This irrational anger can’t be healthy.

  “Brendon, come.” Dad waves his hand in easy welcome. His thick hair flounces as he sets his drink down on a little table. He moves with lithe grace. Not a care in the world. Like we’re on a freaking beach.

  Damn. I hate him.

  “Join us.” He smiles.

  I tear my gaze away—if I look at Dad for one more minute, I’ll explode—and focus on Yumi. “The hell is this?”

  “Mr. Humes…”

  “We had a deal.”

  Yumi’s face doesn’t crack. “I understand that.”

  “You find my mother.” I stride into the room. Each footstep pounds with the finality of a drum.

  “If you’ll just listen—”

  “I didn’t freaking hire you to have coffee with the man who took her.” I jab a finger in Dad’s direction.

  “We found her,” Yumi says blankly.

  The ground shifts under me. “What?”

  “We have located your mother. I was just about to call you.”

  My eyes flit from Yumi to Dad. When I’d walked in, neither man seemed in any rush to contact me. It looked like they were enjoying a nice, early-morning tea party.

  Not that it matters.

  Nothing matters.

  Except that Mom is found.

  She’s okay.

  My stride quickens.

  Five steps.

  I’m in front of Yumi’s desk. “Where is she?”

  Instead of answering, his eyes shift to Dad.

  I pound my fist on the table. Pencils skitter out of their holders. Files jump to the ground like birds with clipped wings aching to be free. “Answer me!”

  “Your father will take it from here.”

  “That’s not the deal. I hired you—”

  “Brendon…” Dad cuts me off. “There’s something I need to say.”

  My gaze whips to him.

  Silver eyes stare right through me, hard but not unfeeling.

  My brain whirls.

  The built up resentment I’ve nurtured in my soul clamors for the spotlight.

  Dad continues to speak, ignorant to the storm brewing in me.

  Or maybe he’s aware and doesn’t care.

  “Your mother is safe.”

  I shake my head. “I’ll decide that on my own.”

  “We took her for her own good.”

  I bark out a humorless laugh. “Cut the crap, Dad.”

  “The truth is… she’s not well, Brendon.”

  “No, you’re the one who’s sick in the head. Where is she, Dad?”

  “We’ve managed to keep this under wraps for a long time, but Yumi unraveled the mystery in a day.” Dad shrugs. His shirt ripples with the movement. “It’s incredible, really.”

  Yumi doesn’t respond, but his lips twitch in a barely-there smile.

  Dad climbs to his feet with a weary sigh. “I’m glad the cat’s out of the bag. It’s about time you knew the truth.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “There’s somewhere we need to go, Brendon.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until someone tells me what the hell is going on.”

  Yumi gazes at Dad. Should I?

  Go ahead. Dad scrunches his nose and dips his chin slightly.

  Their invisible conversation pisses me off even more.

  Yumi rounds the desk, grabs one of the files on the ground and hands it over.

  I snatch it from him and pry it open with my fingers. “What am I looking at?”

  “Those are your mother’s medical records,” Yumi says. “They were buried so deep we had to hire someone to unlock it.”

  I glare at Dad. “Why did you hide Mom’s records?”

  Silence.

  In the quiet, a thought slams into me.

  “Is she…” I pause. Press my lips together. Push out the rest. “Is she sick?”

  A dipped chin. A flicker of eyelashes. A twist of thin lips.

  Dad’s first signs of humanity.

  I know what he’s about to say before he says it.

  “Yes.”

  One word.

  One word and my entire world crumbles.

  “W-with what?”

  “A serious mental illness.”

  I flick the cover of the file open. Desperately page through the documents to confirm.

  There.

  On the last page.

  My finger traces the line a doctor scrawled out in barely legible words.

  Manic Depression.

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “She was diagnosed right around the time that Sheila girl ran and told the press about our—” he stops, tilts his head, amends—“right around the time we decided to get Ariya.”

  My back stiffens. Adopting my little sister was a publicity stunt. I was just a kid back then, but I saw the toll it took on Mom. The affair was constantly shoved in her face by the news and the paps. Anyone would crumble.

  I noticed her withdrawing into herself, getting quieter. She lost a lot of weight. Couldn’t sleep. Cried a lot.

  I thought it would pass.

  And it did.

  When Ariya joined our family, it was like a missing piece of a puzzle fitting into place. Mom threw herself into raising her. I was sure my little sister had saved Mom’s life. Pulled her back from the edge.

  I thought we were good.

  “A few years after that, she got diagnosed with a heart disease,” Dad says quietly.

  That second bomb is one I’m not prepared for. I stumble back. “What? How is that… possible?”

  “People with severe mental illnesses are nearly three times more likely to develop cancer and cardiovascular disease. No one knows why. It just is.”

  I thrust my hand out. Feel around for the arm of the chair. Sink against it.

  This doesn’t make any sense.

  Fate’s always been pretty freaking kind to us.

  No matter what crap Dad shoots at the fan it never hits.

  Our wealth doubles every year.

  Ariya’s so healthy she barely catches a flu.

  Life’s been good.

  But all this…?

  If anyone deserves a debilitating disease it’s Dad, not Mom.

  Not after everything she put up with.

  If there’s any fairness in the world…

  Any justice…

  No, this can’t be right.

  “She’s been in and out of the hospital ever since then,” Dad finishes quietly.

  “So all the ‘trips’ to charities overseas…”

  “A front. She’s been living at psychiatric and heart specialty hospitals for many years.”

  My heart skitters painfully.

  Why wouldn’t she tell us?

  Dad sighs and answers as if he can read my mind. “She didn’t want you two to be burdened with the truth. She saw the hollowed, hopeless eyes of the families at the hospitals she went to. She didn’t want to see that look in your eyes.”

  “Still, you should have—“

  “Told you?” He arches an eyebrow. “Your mother’s stubborn, as you know. I didn’t want to go against her wishes.”

  “Don’t try to paint yourself as some kind of hero. You did it for your own good.” I glare at him. Lash out from the pain. “Having a sick wife would have damaged your image.”

>   His eyebrows furrow. “Are you kidding me? It would have drummed up so much sympathy I could get away with murder. No matter what you think, I did this for her.”

  “You must be so proud,” I spit bitterly.

  Yumi shoots me a what is wrong with you look and shakes his head. “The point is your mother was not kidnapped. She was taken for her own protection. If she’d stayed in your house a minute longer without her medication, she would have died. Your father is her legal guardian and is allowed to make that call. There is no kidnapping case here.”

  I toss the file down and straighten.

  In a world where my father’s the good guy, nothing makes sense. I can barely wrap my brain around any of this, but that’s honestly the hardest part for me to swallow.

  Dad squeezes my shoulder.

  Not the condescending you’re nothing and I’ll always beat you squeeze.

  This touch is genuine. He’s actually capable of sincerity. It’s frightening. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” I need to get it together. I’m not losing my head over this. So what if Mom’s got two strikes against her? Modern medicine has come a hell of a long way. “Take me to the hospital. I need to talk to her doctor about treatments and—”

  “There are no treatments.”

  The hell? “Of course there are.”

  “She’s dying, Brendon.”

  My heart pounds. “You’re lying.”

  “It could be three weeks, three months or tomorrow. But she doesn’t have that much time.”

  “Mom—”

  “She’ll tell you the same thing. The doctors want us to prepare for the worst.” His eyes slide to the ground. “She didn’t want you to know. She doesn’t want to be remembered like this, but I think we should spend time together before… ”

  I shake my head.

  Tears crop in my eyes. “No. No, I’m not going to accept that. We’ll get a second opinion. We’ll—”

  “Listen here.” Dad grabs my collar and drags me forward. His breath hits my face, hinting of cigar and mint. Light blue eyes sear me like lasers. “Fall apart if you have to. I don’t care if you tear this freaking office to shreds.”

  Yumi’s eyebrows hike.

  “But when you step out those doors and you see your mother, I need you to get it together for her. She’s fragile and she’s trying to make sense of it all on her own. The last thing I want is for you to feed her false hope when she’s just starting to accept her end. Do you understand?”

  I say nothing.

  Dad shakes me. “Do you freaking hear me, Brendon?”

  I push Dad’s hand off. “Yeah.”

  “Good.” He brushes his shirt down. “Now let’s go see your mama.” His lips flatten into a thin line. “She’s been asking for you.”

  With a steely nod at Yumi, Dad swivels and strides through the door.

  Still reeling from shock, I stumble after him.

  Head spinning.

  Heart palpitating.

  The twenty-four hours Mom went ‘missing’ was torture.

  Now I’m looking at spending a lifetime without her.

  And that…

  I’m not freaking prepared.

  Twenty

  Kayla

  If my life were a movie, this would be the scene where it rained. Not a light, romantic drizzle or a summer sprinkle.

  It’d be a heavy storm.

  A deluge.

  A disaster.

  I’d be soaked to the bone.

  I’d be as miserable on the outside as I am on the inside.

  But my life isn’t a movie.

  And the scenery tonight is straight out of a commercial—gentle breeze, towering trees, full moon, and twinkling stars.

  The night is alive, warm.

  Celebrating.

  Nature hates me.

  I clutch my purse tighter in my trembling fingers as I near my apartment building. Venus offered to drop me home, but I opted to walk. Clear my head. Marvel at nature. Maybe find a genuine smile amidst all the fake ones I’ve been throwing around lately.

  It’s been such a long, exhausting day.

  Which is weird.

  Nothing out of the ordinary happened.

  Nothing worth phoning my parents about anyway.

  I’m just…

  I don’t know.

  Restless, maybe?

  Trying not to think about Drew.

  Trying to pretend the hollow ache in my chest will go away with time.

  It feels like I’m walking through a field of muck.

  I’m desperate to get out of my own head.

  Desperate to feel anything other than guilt.

  If only I hadn’t attached a will expire in one night tag to my deal with Brendon.

  I could use his touch right now.

  His deep groans are better than liquor.

  I’d numb myself with his kisses.

  But that’s ridiculous.

  I’m a grown woman.

  I shouldn’t be that dependent on a man.

  Especially one I ran out on this morning.

  The bottom of my pumps scrapes the concrete as I step off the sidewalk and into the parking lot of my apartment.

  A familiar sports car catches my eye.

  I bite down on my lip. That looks like Brendon’s.

  I keep my eye on the car.

  Move closer.

  Then stop.

  A man is draped against the hood—one leg braced on the front tire—like a model waiting for the camera click.

  Long legs. Lean shoulders. Strong arms. The lampposts’ golden light bounces against his deep black hair. Casts his silver eyes in shadows.

  He’s not wearing glasses today.

  Brendon.

  Just the sight of him scrapes away my pensive mood. Sends my heart flying higher than a kite.

  We’re nothing but a hook-up turned awkward acquaintances. I don’t want to analyze or deconstruct why I’m so happy to see him. I just grab ahold of the peace and dig my nails in for dear life.

  My hips sway a little more than usual as I close the distance between us. A smirk plays with my lips. “You’re stalking me now?”

  His answering smile does something to me. Makes the air feel like it’s burning. Aflame.

  “Just a little hobby I enjoy in my spare time.” His shoulder lift is covered with exaggerated indifference.

  “So you are stalking me.”

  He chuckles and straightens. The teasing leaves his eyes, replaced with a somberness that sends warning bells clanging in my head. The sorrow flashes for a moment and then is gone, leaving behind a tired smile. “I wanted to stop by. Thank you for breakfast. And for doing Ariya’s hair.”

  Confusion draws my brows together. “You drove all the way here just to say that in person?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You could have sent a text.”

  “I tried.” A corner of his lips hikes in a gentle smirk. “You didn’t answer.”

  My breath catches on a gasp. “Oh, shoot. I forgot.”

  “You really know how to kick a man when he’s down, don’t you? Acting like I’m that forgettable.”

  “My bad.” I sigh dramatically. “How can I ever make it up to you?”

  The flirting is slipping out without my permission. Oozing through the mesh of pain and guilt that the past four years have built around me.

  No one else has been able to crack my façade like Brendon has.

  Those eyes of his undo me completely.

  I’m diving deep into that silver ocean and I won’t resurface until I have to.

  Until I’m drowning.

  “Would you like to come in?” I gesture to the building.

  His eyes fix on me. They’re dark with desire. Exhaustion. Something else. Something hinting at the fact that he’s as desperate to lose himself in this, in us, as I am.

  When he doesn’t answer immediately, doubts crowd my mind.

  Maybe I misinterpreted his presence.

&nbs
p; I’m not the only one who insisted our passion be contained to one night. Brendon was pretty clear about how complicated his life was; how much space a relationship—even a purely physical relationship—would take up.

  I clear my throat. Give him an out. “Unless you have to get back to Ariya fast…”

  “No.” He swallows. Glances away. “She’s staying with Mom tonight.”

  I perk up at the casual mention of his mother. “You found her?”

  “Yeah.”

  I’ve got questions.

  Is she okay?

  Why did his father kidnap her?

  Did Ariya get to see her mom before she went to school?

  But the way Brendon grunts out that word is a door slamming in my face.

  Do Not Enter.

  I’m not offended. There are things I would rather not discuss too. Boiled down to it, we’re not that different. We’re both running from our realities as hard as we can.

  I’m Brendon’s perfect distraction.

  And he’s mine.

  I nod. “Come in.”

  He approaches me, his expression a little lighter. “What about your rules?”

  My words from yesterday echo back to me. “Only for one night.”

  Screw the rules.

  “I’ll make an exception.”

  Being with him is wrong, but I don’t want to be right tonight.

  I only want Brendon.

  I want him in my bed.

  Want him to make me forget.

  Make me lose my ever-loving mind.

  I want it so badly…

  Brendon slips his hand over mine. Interlocks our fingers.

  My body lights up with anticipation.

  A light bulb moment.

  Withdrawal.

  That’s what I’ve been battling all day.

  He’s my drug. I took one swig and now I’m hooked.

  But drugs are dangerous for a reason.

  He’s dangerous.

  Still, I tug him through the foyer and into the elevator.

  The doors close behind us.

  Trap us in.

  The elevator takes its time.

  I tap my heels on the floor. Glance over my shoulder at Brendon. He’s a couple feet away, but it feels like miles.

  I can’t wait to have him closer.

  My eyes run over his handsome face and mouth-watering physique. My mind calculates all the layers my hands will have to tear through to get to his skin.

  I can’t wait to feel him on top of me.

  The ding of the elevator makes me jump. I almost stumble when I move into the corridor.