by Tara Wyatt
“No. Not at all.”
He relaxed slightly. “Then what’s wrong? Talk to me.”
She chewed the inside of her lip. “I’ve never told anyone this before.”
He stroked a hand over her hair. “You can tell me anything, princess. Anything.”
It didn’t matter that her skin was prickling, or that her stomach was churning, or that her brain spun with fifty million different versions of how this could go very, very wrong. Not only did she owe it to him—to them—to tell him the truth of her past, but she found that she actually wanted to let someone in for the first time.
“You asked me in the car, the other day, about how my father had hurt me.”
The hand that had been stroking her hair stilled. “Yeah.”
“When…God, I don’t even know how to say it. It sounds so pathetic.”
Zack didn’t say anything, just kissed the top of her head. But she needed to tell him. She’d lived with it for so long, running from what had happened. She was exhausted from carrying it, from carrying the shame, the sadness, the anxiety, alone. And if they were actually going to do this, to start something together, she owed him the truth.
“When I was a teenager, he made me do things.” She raised her head and met Zack’s eyes. “He forced me to have sex with men.” The words hung in the air, heavy and loud. It was her truth. She’d used her body, had done things she’d hated, and was still dealing with the fallout, both emotional and physical.
For several seconds Zack didn’t speak. His brow furrowed and his nostrils flared, but he didn’t say anything. It was amazing the kind of eternity five seconds could contain. Finally, he cleared his throat softly. “What kind of men?”
“Directors. Producers. Sometimes so I could get a role. Sometimes so he could. Sometimes just because one of his friends wanted me.”
“Motherfucker.” He spoke the words vehemently but barely above a whisper. “God, Alexa, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what he did, and I’m sorry I didn’t beat the shit out of him yesterday.”
She swallowed, absorbing his words. He hadn’t pushed her away. He knew what she’d done, and she was still in his arms.
“I’m not asking this to blame you, because clearly he’s the one at fault here. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
You didn’t do anything wrong. Such simple words, and although she’d heard them from her therapist, had even said them to herself in the mirror, she hadn’t started to believe them until they came from Zack. As though a part of her had been waiting for him, all this time.
“Asking me what?”
“Did you ever try to say no?”
She nodded, and more silent tears slipped free. “When I was seventeen, I stood up to him. He broke my arm, and I still had to do it anyway. I didn’t say no again.”
“Son of a bitch.” Another whispered curse, and his arms tightened around her. Holding her closer, not pushing her away. “Does your mom know about this?”
Alexa nodded, and she was unable to keep the resentment out of her voice. “Yeah. She knows.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, feeling lighter the more she talked. “I think that’s why the Brotherhood stuff made sense to me as soon as I heard it. He controls everyone, and has a use for everyone. This was his use for me.” She laughed sadly. “Is his use for me, if he thinks he can just give me to Kramer. To him, I’m not his daughter. I’m a convenient whore.” Her voice broke on the last syllable, tears slipping free as she spoke the truth of how she saw herself.
“I’m so sorry,” said Zack. He brushed his nose against her cheek, and when she looked up, he kissed her, his lips firm and warm against hers. “I’m so sorry he did that to you. I’m so sorry you felt trapped. I hate that he did that to you. I hate him for it.” His voice shook with anger.
“A part of me feels so stupid that I didn’t see what was happening around me. In hindsight I see it now. But I was usually too caught up in my own shame to look outside of myself.”
Zack pulled back a little and traced his thumb over her cheekbone. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. You didn’t do anything wrong. He exploited you. The people who should feel ashamed are your father and those men.”
She let his words wash over her, absorbing them and basking in them as she settled back down against him, her cheek pressed to his heart. Objectively, she’d known all this. But to hear it from someone she cared about, someone she’d been vulnerable with and opened up to…Somehow it meant more and gave her the courage to keep going. To keep opening up until her entire heart was stretched wide, all of it there for him to see. “I learned how to detach during sex. How to just kind of float away until whoever was on top of me was done. It was the only way I could get through it. It didn’t feel good to me.”
“Fuck. Shit, Alexa. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He spoke the words against her temple. She’d told him her secret, the pain and darkness she carried deep inside, and the world hadn’t ended.
“It’s been lonely,” she whispered, cracking herself open with more truth. But if she didn’t open herself up, she couldn’t let any light in.
“You don’t need to be lonely. Not anymore.”
She wiped at her cheek with one hand, the tears still flowing, slowly but steadily. “I’ve never come during sex before. This…this was the first time.”
He was quiet, and she once again raised her head to look at him. He was smiling, big and wide. Not judging her, or leaving, or any of the horrible things she’d convinced herself she deserved. She laughed softly. Actually laughed, despite the scars she’d just shown him.
That was what he did to her. Orgasms aside, she felt so…God, she felt vibrant with him. Alive and happy and as if she’d found home. “You seem pretty pleased with yourself.”
He arched an eyebrow, the huge smile still in place. “You’re damn right I am.” He kissed her forehead, and then her temple, and then her mouth, slowly and sweetly. “But not because of what it says about my skills. Because of what it says about how you feel about me.”
She felt giddy and greedy and alive with the rush of relief coursing through her. “I never imagined that you and I could…I can’t even…” She shook her head, and he kissed her again. She sighed deeply, inhaling his warm, faintly musky scent. She wanted to wrap that scent around herself. Dipping her head, she kissed a slow path over his collarbone, ending at his shoulder, each kiss a tiny thank-you for understanding. For not judging. For having her back. She kissed the badly drawn dragon there, wanting every piece of him for herself.
He reached down and laced his fingers through hers, bringing their hands together over his heart. He knew the whole of her, and still wanted her. The surge of joy and relief that rushed through her was so powerful that she could’ve held up the moon.
“I don’t know what to say, Zack. I’ve never felt like this before.”
He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “Me neither.”
She wasn’t sure how long they lay together in silence, twined around each other, basking in each other. In their connection. In the freedom of knowing the truth. It didn’t matter, because it wasn’t long enough.
“I wish I could stay.” He raised their joined hands to his mouth and kissed her fingertips one by one as he spoke. “I wish I could spend the night making you come over and over again, until neither of us can move. I wish I could fall asleep holding you. I wish I could wake up beside you. I want all of that, so badly.”
Her heart picked up its pace even though she hadn’t moved. “I wish you could stay too.” But he couldn’t, and they both knew it. He’d already stayed too long.
With a heavy sigh, he slipped away and pushed up off the bed, then picked up the condom wrapper and shoved his legs into his jeans. He gathered the rest of his things and then padded barefoot to the door, listening. After a few seconds, he crossed back toward the bed and kissed her, hard and deep.
“Good night, princess.”
He disappeared into the hallway and closed th
e door almost silently behind him. Alexa flopped down on the bed, feeling like a new person.
For the first time, she felt free and happy.
Chapter 17
The exterior of the Los Angeles Memorial Sports Arena glowed shamrock green in the night, two giant spotlights shining up into the sky and sweeping back and forth, crossing beams over and over again in a steady rhythm. In front of the arena, a lit-up sign flashed “Monsters of the Cage: Los Angeles Fight Night.”
Alexa swung her legs out of Sean’s SUV and touched her black pumps down on the pavement, grabbing Carter’s massive arm to steady herself. Sean pulled away from the curb to park, and she waited with Carter. They’d pulled up to the back entrance of the arena, for both privacy and security reasons, and she could hear the excited buzz of the crowd out front. When they’d driven past, hundreds of people had milled about, filtering into the arena.
She’d agonized over what to wear tonight and had finally opted for a simple black sleeveless dress with a deep V-neck and a flared skirt that swished just above her knees. She’d wanted to look the part of his girlfriend, pretend or otherwise, although they weren’t really in pretend mode tonight.
“Whoa,” she said, glancing at Carter. “I don’t think I realized how big this is.” She gestured at the lights, the sign, and the swarms of people around them.
“MMA’s pretty popular, and this is one of the biggest promotions in Southern California. Should be at least ten thousand people here tonight.”
“Promotion?”
“It’s just another name for the organization behind the fights. A league, kind of. The more high-level fighters, the more sponsors and revenue, the bigger the promotion, the bigger the payouts, the bigger the opportunities. Each promotion has a matchmaker, a guy who sets the fights based on what he thinks will bring in the biggest revenue. More crowds, more betting. It’s a sport, but it’s also prizefighting. Tonight’s the light heavyweight championship, Zack’s weight class. If he wins, he’ll become the champion, and there’s a good chance he’ll be offered a contract with a much bigger promotion.” Carter smiled at her as they made their way toward the back door. Her heart fluttered, nerves and worry flitting through her. “Over the past few years, he’s worked damn hard to get here.”
A surge of pride flowed through her. She knew what this meant to him, and she wanted so badly for him to win. Her heart thumped in her chest, anticipation swirling through her.
She smiled as Sean and Sierra caught up with them, and they made their way inside. Carter led them through a series of hallways and showed their passes to a security guard all in black. He pointed at a set of steps, and Carter led the way again, ushering them into a box that gave them a completely unobstructed view of the cage. The box wasn’t luxurious, but it was private and comfortable. And they weren’t alone.
Alexa smiled and nodded at an attractive couple in their early fifties who were already seated, realizing suddenly that they must be Zack’s parents. A man, maybe thirtyish, sat beside them, and Alexa noticed he had the same brown eyes and the same mouth as Zack. He said something to his mother, and his voice bore an unmistakable resemblance to Zack’s. His brother. They were his family. Here to support him and cheer him on. When was the last time her family had cheered her on? Supported her in any kind of loving, healthy way?
Never. There’d never been anything healthy or loving about her relationship with them. Nothing.
“Hi,” Alexa said, smiling tentatively at them, not entirely sure what to say next.
The woman smiled warmly at her, honey-brown curls falling around her pretty face, and Alexa recognized Zack’s brown eyes. “Hi. You must be Zack’s friends.”
“We are,” said Sean, extending his hand. “I’m Sean, I work with Zack. This is my fiancée, Sierra, and Carter Davis, another member of the Virtus team. Should be a few others joining us soon. And this is Alexa.”
Zack’s brother looked at her, his eyes widening in recognition. “You’re Alexa Fairfax,” he said, his tone almost turning it into a question. Before she could answer, he stood and shook her hand. “I’m Chris, Zack’s brother. I’m the older one, but I stopped referring to myself as his big brother about fifteen years ago.” She couldn’t help but laugh, and she felt herself relax a little. Despite the resemblance between them, Chris was at least six inches shorter than Zack. Although to be fair, at six foot three, Zack was taller than almost everyone.
“I’m Donna, Zack’s mom,” said the woman. “And this is my husband, Mark.” The man stood and shook everyone’s hand, and she noticed a definite resemblance to Zack. Studying his parents was like putting a puzzle together. He had his mother’s eyes and mouth shape, but his father’s hair, cheekbones, and square jaw. Zack definitely looked more like his father, who was tall and broad-shouldered, while Chris looked more like his mother, with softer features and the same light-brown curls.
“It’s nice to meet you,” said Mark, releasing her hand and slipping an arm around his wife’s waist.
“And you,” said Alexa, smiling at them, wanting to make a good impression. It occurred to her that she’d never actually been in this situation before, meeting the parents of the man she was…whatever it was she and Zack were doing.
Sean and Sierra moved to the other side of the box, settling in, and Alexa’s chest tightened at the easy way Sean threw his arm over the back of her chair and she leaned into him. Sierra whispered something in his ear that elicited a smile, and he kissed her forehead.
“How do you know Zack?” asked Chris, glancing between her and Carter, clearly wondering if she was Carter’s date for the night. Donna leaned forward, apparently interested in Alexa’s answer.
“Oh, Zack and I…we…” She broke off, trying to figure out what to say. “We’re friends, and right now I’m also his client.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yep.” She smiled and shrugged, wrinkling her nose slightly. She knew she should say more because she could tell Chris was curious as to why Zack was working for her. But she didn’t have the energy to make something up, nor did she want to get into the mess of her life with these people. She’d already dragged Zack into it, and that was bad enough.
Chris studied her for a second, warmth sparkling in his eyes. “So, you wanna hear some embarrassing stories about Zack?” He winked at her.
“Oh yes, please.” She smiled, a bright warmth flowing through her, settling right alongside the jealous ache in her chest. Zack’s family was so nice. So normal.
“Christopher Aaron De Luca, you will not tell stories about your brother tonight.” Donna glared at Chris and flashed Alexa a smile. “They have a sibling rivalry that makes the Civil War look like a petty squabble,” she said, shrugging in a “what can you do” way. Chris rolled his eyes and shot Alexa a mock-pained look, and she laughed, happy to be included in the joke.
“Do you have any siblings?”
Alexa shook her head. “No, it’s just me.”
“Ah well. With your movie career, I’m sure your parents must be very proud.”
She swallowed uncomfortably. “You must be really proud of Zack,” she said, flipping the topic around. “This is a huge deal for him.”
Mark nodded, and yet another warm smile made its way to her. “We are. He’s worked so hard to get here. I’m sure it means a lot to him that so many of his friends and coworkers have come to cheer him on.”
“I’m so nervous for him,” she said, glancing around at the arena again. “You must be too.”
Donna shrugged. “Yes and no. We’ve been watching him fight for years. But that’s very sweet of you to be nervous for him.” Her eyes swept over Alexa, her gaze slow and appraising. “So you and Zack are just friends?” Her eyebrows rose, but there was nothing threatening or challenging in her tone. Alexa couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a conversation with her parents that was neither threatening nor challenging in some way.
“Yes. We have a friendly, professional relationship,” she answered, hat
ing that she had to lie to his parents. But what the hell could she say?
So many lies. Lies on top of lies. This was her world now, apparently.
Donna frowned. “Mmm. Too bad. You seem lovely.” She leaned forward slightly, a conspiratorial smile on her face. “Exactly the kind of woman I’d want my son to bring home to Sunday dinner.”
“Oh, wow. That’s…that’s so nice of you to say,” she said. Her eyes stung a little at the simple compliment, and her heart had taken off at a gallop at the idea of Zack bringing her home. She and Zack hadn’t defined who they were to each other, but Alexa was hopeful Donna would get her wish.
Alexa and Carter settled into the empty seats beside Zack’s parents and Chris, and her chest hurt a little. She was jealous of Zack’s family and sad for herself at what she’d missed out on. But Alexa knew—better than most, probably—that you didn’t get to pick your family, and all you could do was play the hand you were dealt. It just sucked that her hand was full of jokers and poker rules. Unwinnable, regardless of her luck or her strategy.
Ian entered the box, hot and grumpy as usual in a gray Henley and jeans, his reddish-blond hair curling around his ears and almost to his jaw. A waitress followed him into the box, ready to take drink orders.
“You want a beer?” Sean asked, and Ian scoffed.
“That swill they’re sellin’ for seven dollars for a shitty little plastic cup? No.”
“I’m buying.”
Ian’s eyebrows rose, the only change in his expression. “Oh. Well. Aye, maybe I’ll have one, then.”
“You’re lucky I like you, you cheap bastard.” Smiling and rolling his eyes, Sean waved the waitress over and pulled out his wallet, apparently buying a round for everyone.
Ian sat down at the end of the row of chairs, not saying hello, not talking to anyone. Keeping himself apart, his face, his shoulders, everything about him tense and guarded. On edge. Alexa studied him for a moment, and she rubbed absently at her chest. Ian MacAllister was a man who carried pain around, pushing the world away. She wondered if anyone else saw it. Carter stood and went to speak to him.
