But there were few personal touches that gave any clue about who he was, except for the desk. I moved to it, my eyes sliding over its shiny surface. There were pictures of his Uncle Peter with an arm around both of his cousins, Britt with her two adorable boys. There was a picture of Adam and the kids at Disneyland standing beside Mickey Mouse. I smiled at each photo, relieved to have found even small clues to the person underneath the persona that he showed the world, even me. I noticed no pictures of his parents and given what I knew of his situation growing up, I wasn’t surprised. But the last picture in the row gave me pause. It was a snapshot in a 4 x 6 frame and I picked it up, studying the two children in it.
The color was faded but the younger child, a dark-haired boy, was obviously Adam. He had teeth missing but was grinning wildly nevertheless. He had his arm around the neck of an older girl, this one honey-blond with green eyes. She looked to be in her preteen years. She glanced at the camera sidelong, as if irritated at having her picture taken, but her arm was wrapped tightly around Adam. She was lovely and I guessed that this must be Sabrina, his sister.
While I studied the photo, I felt a presence behind me before I even heard a thing. I spun and faced Adam. When he saw the picture I was holding, his expression sobered.
“She was a pretty girl,” I said lamely.
His threw a furtive glance at me, then laid the laptop hooked under his arm onto the desk, avoiding my gaze. I had guessed right. “Yes,” was all he said.
“You don’t look very much alike.”
“We had different fathers.”
I looked down at the picture again and replaced it gently. “I’m sorry for your loss. You loved her a lot.”
He took a deep breath, still staring at the picture. “Yes. I loved her more than anyone else on the planet.”
I approached him and wrapped my arms around his torso. “She was very lucky, then. To have your love.”
Adam didn’t move, didn’t respond to my show of affection. I glanced up and he was still staring fixedly at that faded photograph. “That’s the only picture I have of her and yet in my memory, I can’t remember what she looked like then. Or later, before she died.”
“How old was she?”
“Twenty.”
“And you were…?”
“Thirteen. Happened just around the time I came back to California.”
Despite the fact that he had neglected to respond to me, I released one of my hands to caress his back. “I would have loved to have had a sister, even if for a short time.”
His mouth set and he seemed to finally grow aware of me, looking down. “I would have rather not had a sister than to have had one and watch her die the way she did.”
I pulled away from him and sat down on the edge of the bed. He watched me for a moment, his face all tense planes and rigid angles. I patted the space beside me.
He glanced at it but didn’t move.
So I asked him the unasked question. Because I sensed that despite his reluctant demeanor, he wanted to talk about it.
“How did she die?”
His eyes fluttered closed and open again. “Overdose.”
Addiction. There was that family theme again. He’d once mentioned to me that he feared it more than anything else, that he firmly believed in the genetics of addiction. It seemed his beliefs had ample basis in the personal lives of the people closest to him.
“I’m sorry,” I said, completely at a loss to say anything else.
“Don’t be. It’s been thirteen years. I tried to save her once and she refused to let me,” he shrugged but it was an affectation rather than a show of indifference. He was pretending a nonchalance that he didn’t feel.
“No matter how hard we try, some things will always remain out of our control,” I said.
“I can’t accept that.”
Of course he couldn’t. That was a huge part of what made him him. But maybe that was the crux of his problem, too.
“Maybe you should.”
He ran a hand through his hair and looked at me. “Emilia, it’s getting late.”
I took a deep breath, aware that he was trying to blow me off. It was late, but I wasn’t going to let him off that easily.
“You’re right. It’s too late to work.”
He quirked a sad smile. “It’s never too late—”
I shot a significant look at the laptop sitting on the desk. “If I leave, you are taking that to bed with you. So which is it, that or me?”
His watched me with hooded eyes but remained silent. He was actually considering choosing the laptop over me! Heat rose in my face. “Okay. I see how it is.” I was getting too close. I was making him uncomfortable, so now he was getting rid of me to work on his computer. I wondered if he took that damn thing to bed with him every night. Maybe he habitually kicked whatever fuck buddy he had at the time to the curb after sex and ran back to his laptop.
I turned to leave.
“Emilia,” he said, reaching for my arm and closing his strong hand around my wrist. “Stay.”
I clenched my teeth. “Only if that thing stays on the desk.”
He gave a long, resigned sigh. “It’s late—early. Let’s get some sleep.”
Without another word, I went to the top of the bed, pulled back the covers and slipped in. He watched me, his handsome face impassive, but the light of something in his eyes said he was not unmoved by the gesture. I rolled over on my side, my back to his side of the bed.
He went around to the other side, turned off the light and after a moment, I felt the weight of the bed shift. We were still some distance apart, as the bed was a massive king-size. Another long pause before he reached out, hooked an arm around my waist and pulled me back flush against him. His legs curled under mine. We were spooning. I never took Adam for the type of guy who would spoon. And here, this display of affection was for me alone. There was no potential girlfriend or ex here to deflect. This was just him and me. Us. Curled together.
In this safe environment in the darkest hour before dawn, I turned my head toward him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He didn’t answer for so long that I thought he wouldn’t. Or that maybe he had fallen off to sleep when I hadn’t noticed. “She was all I had. She was a sister and she was a mother when our mother was incapacitated, which was most of the time.”
His hand slipped under my shirt to rest atop my belly. Despite my fatigue, a curl of excitement tightened there in response to his touch. I put my own hand on top of his, lacing our fingers together. He curled his fingers inward, locking them in a tight embrace.
“But things between her and my mother got bad, really bad. My mother couldn’t stand the sight of her and drove her out of the house when she was fifteen. We were homeless shortly thereafter—bouncing around from shelter to shelter.”
“Shit, that’s horrible.”
“It’s worse. She ran away, hit the streets—the same old cliché. She was soon addicted to drugs and selling herself to support the habit.”
My breathing froze and I went cold inside. That hung in the air between us for a few moments before he drew in a deep breath, the cool air rushing past my neck. His sister had sold herself for money, drugs, to her ultimate destruction. Intuition told me he had drawn a parallel. I’d sold myself, too, for money. An ominous feeling covered me like a shroud. Was this the reason Adam had been putting things off between us?
He spoke again, his voice quiet and a little groggy. “Last time I saw her, I hopped a bus when I was twelve and went down to Seattle to find her. She looked horrible. I begged her to come back with me but she wouldn’t. Threw me back on the bus and yelled at me to get the hell out of the city. I never saw her again.”
I turned around in his arms so that I was facing him. The watery light of predawn was just starting to seep into the room. I couldn’t see his eyes, but stared into them anyway, his face inches from mine.
“There’s nothing you could have done otherwise.”
He wa
s silent.
“Adam…” I said and on impulse, laid a hand on his whisker-roughened cheek. My courage died out along with my voice. I was going to tell him that my feelings for him were now growing to an inappropriate level. But to say those words was to believe that these feelings were true and right and I just couldn’t trust them. I could never let myself be vulnerable again. Every time I had in the past, I’d been stomped down. This was business. My heart thudded at the base of my throat.
“What?” he said, his voice thick with emotion, his warm breath scurried over my cheeks.
“I’m so sorry about what happened to her. It’s a terrible, tragic thing. You can’t blame yourself.”
“I don’t.”
I took a deep breath. It hurt to inhale. “Good. And I also think you shouldn’t compare her situation to mine.”
A long pause. “How could I not? The moment I sleep with you, you become a prostitute and I become your john.”
I shook inside. “Is this the reason, then? Why we haven’t—why you keep stopping it?”
He didn’t answer. Even now, he wouldn’t answer. But hadn’t we crossed into this forbidden territory already—whether or not we ever slept together?
“So we won’t do this. Really. I’m okay with it. We can end this here.”
He went still, even holding his breath. “It’s not your decision to make, Emilia. You’re in too deep for that.”
“But why—” He cut me off softly pressing a finger to my lips.
“Remember who’s in control,” he said, his voice edged with exhaustion. And I knew that now was not the time to argue this. Not with him having just laid himself bare to me.
So I didn’t. Instead, I curled in close to him, nestling against his hard chest. He wrapped his arms around me, rested his chin on my head and he slept.
But I couldn’t. Despite the fact that I was utterly exhausted, my mind raced through the ramifications of what had just occurred—of the knowledge I’d just gained. Adam and I would never have sex, because he believed that the minute we did, he’d become like the men who had destroyed his sister.
But could I go through with this after hearing Sabrina’s story? After hearing of the innocent who’d been forced to allow herself to be used? Used and thrown away, like trash. I had refused to think that what I was doing was the same thing as prostitution, but Heath, and then Adam, had rightly corrected me of that notion. And now the implications were finally sinking in.
Chapter Twelve
We slept in almost until noon and had a quick brunch at the breakfast bar in his kitchen. Then he dropped me off at home so I could get some work done on my poor neglected blog.
“Come to family dinner tomorrow night,” he said on my doorstep.
I clenched my jaw. “Are we just going to keep ignoring this?”
His eyes flicked out to the road and then back to me. “Yes or no, Emilia?” And with that evasion, he answered my question: Yes, we are going to keep ignoring this.
I swallowed in a tight throat. “I’ll come.” Because this was almost over and part of me didn’t want it to be. I knew it must be, but I was willing to grab at the few moments that remained.
“Pick you up at six.” As always, he kissed me on the cheek and took the steps two at a time down to his car.
I shut the door and leaned back against it, trying to ignore the aching emptiness I felt whenever he left.
Checking my messages, I saw that both my mom and Heath had tried to reach me. I dialed my mom first and noted right away that she sounded unusually cheery.
“Mia! How are you?”
Still feeling guilty about the way our last phone call had gone, when I’d lied to her, I was buoyed by her high spirits. Was she in love? It sure sounded like something major had happened. Would she tell me, or was this an act to cover for the money situation?
“Hey Mom. I’m doing fine.”
“How are things with your boyfriend?”
I blew out a breath. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“I can be optimistic, can’t I?”
I shifted uncomfortably, twirling a lock of my hair around my forefinger. “I suppose, but that means I can do the same for you. You don’t have someone special in your life, do you?”
“Who am I going to meet up here in crusty old Anza? There are no available men up here who are still in their right mind.”
Good point there. “It’s about time you did find someone. I’ve been out of the house for almost four years.”
“Don’t you worry about me, sweet pea. I’m just fine and feeling better than I have in a long time. Worry about yourself.”
I contemplated that. Either she was putting up a marvelously good front or something had happened. How could this be, if the ranch was about to go into foreclosure? Guessing wasn’t going to get me answers, so I decided it was time to end the silence on this subject. “Mom, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, as long as it isn’t about my dating,” she said.
I took a deep breath and dove in. “When I was up there in January, I saw some of your mail…”
A long pause. “Uh-huh.”
“I saw the mortgage notices.” I cleared my throat and continued. “They said foreclosure by July. I’ve been waiting for you to inform me yourself, but for some reason you must not think I can handle it.”
“First of all, this is not your problem, okay? I didn’t tell you because I was handling it. And I didn’t want to worry you with your big test coming up and all that you had on your plate. You’re about to graduate from college! It should be a happy time for you. And thank God it can be.”
I shifted where I stood, putting a hand on my hip. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that it’s taken care of. I can’t give you details yet, but I will when you come up in June. But it’s handled. The ranch is just fine and even better, I’m starting to work on getting it ready to take in guests again. I’m hoping by July I can get a little summer business rustled up.”
I shook my head. “What—really? You aren’t lying so I won’t worry or some other bullshit like that?”
“Language, Mia. I hope you don’t talk like that around your boyfriend.”
I sighed. “Mom.”
“Okay, okay. He’s not your boyfriend. Maybe I’ll get to meet him at your graduation?”
I gritted my teeth. “Mom, we were talking about your mortgage.”
“Yes. And now the subject is closed. It’s taken care of and I’m telling you the God’s honest truth. Okay? So stop worrying and stop trying to take care of me. I’m not a wilting chemo patient anymore. I feel better than I have in a long time. For a lot of reasons.”
I took a deep breath and decided to believe her. “Okay. Thank God. I’m so glad.”
“You’ve been fretting over this since January?”
Fretting. That was an understatement I was willing to let her live with. “Yeah. Kinda.”
“Well, don’t. I can’t wait to see you in a few weeks, my little graduate! You are going to look amazing in that cap and gown.”
“Yeah. Until then I’m turning off my landline for the next week and hitting the studying hard. If you need me, send me an e-mail or text me, okay?” Okay, so Mom had just come clean to me and now I shamelessly lied to her—again! Or at least, I didn’t tell her the whole truth—that my phone was turned off because I’d be out of the country.
She sighed heavily. “Okay. But if you don’t get back to me in a timely manner, I’ll be forced to harass Heath and you know how much he loves that.”
“Love you, Mom. Talk to you soon.” And I clicked off, sitting back and feeling like a fifty-pound weight had just been removed from my chest.
Her mortgage was taken care of. She didn’t have to give up the ranch. She was even preparing to take on new guests! Had she gotten a loan? A grant? It all seemed so improbable but there was no mistaking that she was telling the truth. My mom wasn’t as good a liar as I apparently was becoming. My eyes wandered up to t
he ceiling and I couldn’t stop grinning. I wasn’t even annoyed at the thought of probably being enlisted as a free ranch hand over the summer.
Then, of course, my mind wandered to the auction. To the conundrum I found myself in. To the fact that Adam would never fulfill the terms of the auction. I thought about the almost four hundred thousand dollars sitting in my Cayman Islands bank account—money I’d never properly earn.
And I came to a decision. Minutes after I’d told Heath about the trip to St. Lucia, I dropped the second bomb on him. He was so blown away that I had to repeat myself.
“I said I want you to refuse the bank transfer.”
“What? Why are you sending money back to him? I thought terms had been fulfilled, so to speak?”
“No.”
“I don’t get it. Still?”
“It’s a really long story.”
“Maybe you need to fill me in.”
“I’m calling it off. I can’t do this.”
“Damn, that’s a fucking relief. Drake took it okay?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose with a thumb and forefinger and prepared to tell yet more lies. “Yeah, he thinks it’s a good idea, too.” And truthfully, that is what he could have meant last night. He’d hardly said two words to me this morning. Whether it was because of fatigue or regret for having revealed so much about himself to me, I couldn’t tell. I’d tried my best to pretend everything was the same between us, even though everything had been turned on a ninety-degree axis and we were in uncharted territories now.
“And what about your money issues? What about med school?”
Half of the money issues no longer existed. “I’ll find another way,” I sighed. Maybe I could learn to pole dance. I coughed. “Loans or something.”
“Fuck, I can’t follow you two. You make my head spin.”
“Please, Heath. I promise I’ll tell you everything when I can. But, you know…the NDA.” I threw that out there as the dumbest excuse, hoping he’d swallow it.
At Any Price (Gaming The System) Page 21
