by S. L. Scott
Can I fix things with her?
Should I give her space and wait until morning?
I have no clue, but I do know this. If I push for too much, I may inadvertently push her away. Or has that ship already sailed? Her fucking father. Why the fuck did I say her last name?
Fuck.
I’m probably the last person she wants to see. She needs space. Women need room to let their anger breathe. I drop the clothes and grab my phone before falling back on the bed. I shouldn’t need to call my brother with this, but even though I know he will give me a hard time, it’s worth it if I can get an ounce of wisdom.
“Hello?”
I hold the phone out to make sure I called Ethan. The screen reads EE—Ethan Everest. Holding it to my ear, I reply, “Hello?”
“Bennett, it’s Singer.”
“Oh. Hey. I wasn’t expecting you to answer.”
“I know. Sorry. Ethan left his phone on the counter. I only answered because I saw your name pop up.”
“No, it’s fine. How are you?”
“I think I should be asking you that question.”
Thinking about it, I try to reason through my stubborn emotions. Not good, quite honestly, but I won’t worry her. “I’m fine. Is E around?”
“He’ll be back in a bit. Do you want me to have him call you?”
She’s the most kind-hearted person I know. I can ask my sister-in-law anything touchy-feely, and she’ll never think less of me for it. “That’d be great, but hey, since I have you, do you mind if I ask for some advice?”
“Is this concerning a woman?” I hear the joy in her voice. I can imagine her smile. She lives for this stuff, and we’ve all come to appreciate her belief in happy endings.
“Yes,” I admit. I’m a grown man who always has an answer, but something about Winter has thrown me off my game.
“I’m all ears.”
Pulling the covers over me, I say, “I lied to her, and she left.”
“Why did you lie?” This is her MO. She listens open-mindedly before calling you out. And she will if she sees fit.
“Essentially? I knew she wouldn’t talk to me if she knew the truth.”
“Oh. That does complicate things.” The phone goes quiet, and I give her a moment to think, hoping she might be able to help me find my way out of the mess I made. “So she knows you lied, but still doesn’t know the truth?”
“Not fully.”
“How much does she know?”
“That I know her last name even though she didn’t tell me.”
She hums as if she’s pondering the situation. “But that’s not the lie, is it?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry, Ben. I don’t know the full story, but it seems like nothing will be better until she does. Then you’ll have a better idea if the relationship can survive.”
“I know you’re right. I just like her.”
“I can tell. Hey, your brother’s here.”
“Thanks for talking with me, Singer.”
“Anytime and good luck.”
I’m going to need it.
The phone is handed over because Ethan asks, “What’s going on, little brother?”
Thinking about what Singer just said, I start to wonder if I need more advice. She hit the nail on the head. There’s no getting past this with Winter until she knows everything I’ve been hiding. “Not much. Just checking in. I’m going to fly back.”
“Good to hear. Commercial or private?”
“I’d like the jet late afternoon, if possible.”
“It’s possible, but it’s late here, and the office is closed. Text Zenny and let her know. She’ll schedule it for you.”
“I will, and then I’m gonna try to get some sleep.”
“Everything okay?” He reads my tone too well.
“Fine.” Suddenly, I don’t want to get into it.
“Take care, Bennett.”
“See you later.”
We hang up, and I drop my phone on the bed beside me. My mind still loops through the things Winter said before leaving. She thinks I’m a detective tracking her on her father’s dime. I wasn’t tracking her down for him, but—fuck, is stalking her to get a contract signed any better?
Fuck no, it’s not.
I hate that I broke her trust, the betrayal burning in her gut. I get up and find the file tucked in the suitcase, hidden from prying eyes. Flipping it open, I riffle through each piece of paper, looking for one thing—an address. I can go over there, try to talk to her, sit and wait until she’s sick of me and allows me to share my piece.
Considering this PI knew where she hangs out at night, it’s odd he never filled in the address to where she’s staying. Weird. It’s not like she seemed to be hiding where she was going each night. Why wouldn’t he have it listed?
I have no way of contacting her—no phone number, no address, nothing but the places she frequents. Puzzling.
I’m pretty confident she won’t return to the bistro, so that’s out. Winter Nobleman could disappear into this populous capital city without another word or leave altogether, and I would never see her again.
Fuck. She already had trust issues because of her family, and I just made it worse. I’ve screwed this up so badly I don’t know if I can come back from it in her eyes.
The contract doesn’t matter. I don’t think it did from the moment I met her. Maybe that’s a betrayal to her dad, but I’m okay with that. Did he hire you to sleep with me, to torture me more than he already has? Hearing her voice that . . . Does she actually believe that’s what happened?
God. Is he capable of that? Of torturing her? I can’t imagine it, but why would she lie? I have no problem betraying her dad? But betraying Winter? My chest is tight, and my stomach is tied in knots.
When she opened up about her feelings, she gave me her trust, and in one fell swoop, I lost it. I only have myself to blame.
I’ll make this up to her, but first, I need to find her.
14
Winter
I hold everything I’m feeling in until I see the Eiffel Tower between two buildings. Anger. Hurt. Betrayal. Frustration.
Regret.
Regret.
Regret.
The dam bursts inside this taxi, and my emotions pour out, flooding my eyes and streaming down my face.
I should have known, so I only have myself to blame. I can’t trust anyone. I knew this already. Least of all, my father. I wish I could believe he cared about me, but that’s never been the case before. Why would he change now?
How did I not figure out Bennett’s angle earlier? The hell I’m living in has blocked my better instincts. Who’s good and who’s bad eludes me. I can’t believe I was so desperate for a friend, to be touched and treated like a human again that I let my guard down.
I’m so stupid.
The taxi stops, and I pay the fare before making my way up to the small cell I lock myself inside each night. Who would have thought a luxury apartment building could feel like a prison. Am I imagining the danger I’m in? Maybe I’m not in any at all anymore. There’s been no contact since the rose. Maybe these are just scare tactics.
Those tactics worked last time. I almost made it to the airport before the monsters who kidnapped me tracked me down. That threat and a gun had me returning to the toile wallpapered room.
Even so, I can’t help but wonder how far I can get this time.
I unlock the door and let it close behind me with a loud click. I know this place by memory, so I move about in the dark—drop my purse on the table, toss my jacket on the chair. Toeing my shoes off, I’m about to take off my shirt, feeling dirty from being naked earlier, and shower, but the air shifts, and I sense him. His presence fills the room, causing my heart to thrum in my ears. A hand covers my mouth before I have time to scream.
Jutting my arm forward, I’m about to send my elbow into his ribs and then knock him to his knees, but his other hand clenches my throat, cutting off my air. Grappling at his hands, I’m hopi
ng to remove one so I can breathe, but I’m lifted to my tiptoes instead.
As I struggle to breathe, I realize a cloud of his cologne typically warns me that he’s here as soon as I enter the room. It didn’t this time, as if he wanted to scare me more than an attack in the dark would.
His lips are at my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “I missed you, ma princesse ténébreuse.”
I hate when he stakes claims, calling me his dark princess as some kind of play on my name. He never could stomach that I was a Nobleman, but he reveled in the dark of Winter. I was his dirty secret when he was my everything. He’s a harsh reminder of the mistakes I’ve made. I’ll never trust my instincts again. How could I have been so naïve? Now twice.
My body stops the fight, and my feet go flat to the floor. He releases my throat, and I drop to my knees, coughing so hard my throat burns.
A light switches on, and I turn back to find him sitting on the couch, arms stretched wide across the top and feet kicked up on the coffee table. His sandy blond hair is greasy, his grin matching it. He’s a lowlife who likes to pretend he’s someone. “You—” I start to cough again, unable to speak just yet.
A bottle of water lands on the floor next to me. He snaps his fingers and points to it. “Fetch.”
“Fuck you.” The words grind in my throat, the pain like fire shooting down my neck. I hate myself, but I need the water.
“Watch your language, Winter.”
I drink despite the humiliation I feel for giving in. The water is cool, quenching my thirst and tamping out the flaming pain. I amble to my feet and sit on the edge of the bed. It no longer matters who we were before Paris, our roles have forever changed. Kurt McCoy is a different man, the one in control and I am his captive. He’s so far gone from the man I thought I once loved.
I despise him. His arrogance. His cruelty. His determination to belittle me. He hasn’t been missed, so why did he come tonight? “It’s almost been a month.”
“Three weeks,” he replies indifferently.
“Three and a half. A month in two days. You brought me here and then left me. Why? And why are you here now?”
“Capri is lovely this time of year. The crowds haven’t invaded like they do at the holidays. Anyway, I couldn’t disappoint my friends by not making an appearance.”
“You’re an asshole.” I hate how he never answers me. I hate this night altogether. Why now? When I’m already crippled by another man’s deceit?
“Surely, you know you’ve never been alone, Winter. I have too much invested in you to leave you to your own devices. A woman like you tends to find trouble around every corner.”
“Corner office, you mean.” I pretend to own an ounce of control, and snap back, “I found you right in your office. Easy as pie and played you like a pro.”
Sitting forward, he rests his arms on his legs and studies me. Kurt never did know what to do with me. I used to amuse him, but like all cats, they get bored with their prey and eventually . . . I suck in a shaky breath, holding it until my throat releases. I hate the way the light hits his eyes as if he’s savoring my slow death.
He stands and walks to the window. With his hands clasped behind his back, he says, “I was drawn to your spirited side. You came to me as a spy trying to steal information for your family. Stealing from me is unforgivable, a punishable crime, even if I did fall under your spell for a time.”
Spell. The word makes me think of Bennett. I tense from the image of seeing him in my head—that smile, his engaging eyes. The way his touch makes me feel everything all at once.
“For a time?” I ask. Kurt has such a neat way of making years seem like two hours. That pretty much sums up what I should have realized long before I did. I was so desperate for validation that I turned to evil to earn a halo. Hindsight and all that . . .
Turning around, he sighs, his chest heavy under a blood red smoking jacket. “I played your games for too long—”
“Love was never a game to me. I just picked the wrong ally.”
“Ally,” he repeats, his bellowing laughter targeting my heart right after. “Your angry rebellion to prove your father wrong was cute at first, amusing even, but never attractive. Did you really think I could love you? Your family doesn’t love you, so why would I waste my time?”
Alone. Disparaged. Unappreciated.
“You wanted my name, Kurt. My connections. My inheritance—”
“I needed nothing from you. If I’d cared about any of that, I would have had you begging on your knees at the altar. Begging for my name.” There’s a growl to his tone, anger because I’ve hit a nerve.
“It doesn’t matter how much money the McCoy family has, it won’t change the trajectory of their legacy, or yours.”
He charges me, my back and head slamming against the wall and rattling the crystal sconces. After forcing a final breath from me, he drops me, leaving me to slide to the floor. He can’t kill me. Too many opportunities have passed him by. This isn’t about death. This is about revenge. This is about setting the world on fire in hopes of finding a new beginning.
The McCoy name has been destroyed, and nothing he does can change that fact—not a deal, not blackmail, not a wife. Sadly, he still believes he can, and I’ll pay the price, not with my life but with my family’s if I don’t handle him just the right way.
It churns my stomach, but I try my best to sound wistful while my back screams in pain. “You loved me. You did. It wasn’t words to you. You felt them.”
“And you were blind to the obvious.”
I was. He’s right. Under any other circumstances, I would have left the morning after we met and never looked back. It’s fun to believe the lies we tell ourselves. Protection in the form of a coat made of words that provide the warmth we need when it’s cold outside.
Using the wall as leverage, I hoist myself up, refusing to show him how weak I really am. My body becomes a traitor as one single drop of blood falls from my nose to my chest. I don’t realize it until his expression morphs, giving me a glimpse of the man who was easy to fall for when I was naïve.
“I hate when you hurt.”
“Then don’t hurt me.”
My snarky comment doesn’t faze him. He moves with less confidence and more humility when he approaches. Reaching his hand toward my face, he pauses, seeking permission. I’ll never give him that luxury again. But I’m also not in a position to argue. Stay strong. There’s more at stake here.
Holding me by the jaw, he scrapes the rough pad of his thumb across my face and under my nose. When he pulls back, blood covers it. With his eyes on mine, he licks it clean with two swipes of his tongue, a snake-like motion that warns of the evil inside.
And he’s gone again, devoured by the monster he’s become. How did I never see the sick side of this bastard before he turned on me? “You let another man touch you tonight,” he says
My breathing stops hard in my chest. Shit. Now it’s hard to breathe for another reason. I had become complacent, which must be the only reason Bennett got past my defenses. Don’t think about him. Show no weakness. “Why would you care? I’m nothing to you. Just a pawn in a twisted game.”
He angles back in fury, and I don’t see his palm approaching until my head smacks the wall and my cheekbone burns with pain. “You. Are. My. Property. That’s all you are.”
I hold back the tears desperate to fall. Show no weakness. “You don’t own me and you never will.”
“I will until the tables are turned.” And we’re back to business as if he didn’t just inflict more damage. “You haven’t asked why I’m here, Winter. How disappointing.”
“I’m not dead, so I can assume that you came back to bat me around some more, toy with your plaything while inflicting deadly wounds in the form of words.”
Sly gives him too much credit, though. Sinister. Definitely. “You shouldn’t be afraid of my words.”
He leaves the door open, so I peek inside his dark mind. “What should I be afraid of?�
�
“Me. Love extends beyond death.”
“Love? You’re not capable of the emotion.”
“True,” he says with a detached expression. The man is despicable. “But you believed I was at one point. So gullible, ma princesse ténébreuse.”
I tuck my hands behind my back, trying to stop them from shaking. “Why are you here?”
“I thought you’d be happy to see me. Your mission is almost complete.”
“What?” I give him too much power. He’s dangling not only my future from his hands but my hopes along with it. I reach for the unattainable. “When?”
“Let’s just be clear. This isn’t over until I say it is.” I stare at him as the freedom I crave remains firmly in his hands. His cold, angry eyes remain on me. “Winter, tell me you understand?”
“I understand,” I reply, hope all but gone again.
“Good.” He claps his hands together and then rubs them with the plan coming together for him. “You’ve done a fine job.”
“I’ve done nothing.”
His smile tilts toward genuine. “You’ve done more than you know. It’s almost time for us—”
“Us?”
“The plan is in motion, thanks to you, but it’s time to tie up loose ends.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“And most of that is for the best. Trust me,” he says, nodding like a pool shark about to take my money. “One last task and then you can return to your life again. You’ll still owe me your life, but that’s not a debt I’m collecting today.”
“Then what are you collecting?”
“Everests.”
15
Winter
As dirty as Kurt likes to play, he’s struggling with the aftermath. The bruising. The bleeding. The pain he’s inflicted on me.
With a stiff upper lip, though swollen, I remain awake despite his best efforts to knock me out. Hovering over me, he presses his erection against me. He gets off on power in the cruelest ways, and I was too blind to see until it was too late.
I never hated my father. I should have, but I didn’t. That was a mistake. What I’ve endured for him is proof of that. Everything I’ve done is for his company, for him and my brother, to survive. That was the deal Kurt made with me, though being kidnapped and forced to agree put us on an uneven playing field.
