by K. M. Scott
That steel rod hadn't found my heart because I didn't have one. I'd spent my entire life caring for no one enough to call it love. Why would my heart be anything to pierce, much less damage enough to kill someone like me?
So I lived, a sole survivor with everything he could want. Except the one thing he needed.
That all changed when I met Nina. I hadn't intended on anything happening with her. I'd accepted my life alone as a punishment for all that I'd done for so many years. I didn't expect a reprieve. I didn't deserve one. All I wanted to do was try to make up for what my father had done. That she made some good come alive in me was something I wasn't ready for, but I couldn't let it go. Some small part of me was reborn that night we drove up the Taconic to this house.
So now I had a choice to make. Give up or fight. I let all those times I held Nina in my arms fill me, all those times she made my heart leap with one of her gentle smiles. For someone who had never had to fight for anything, it was strangely easy. Whatever I had to go through for her, I'd endure it.
Chapter Two
Tristan
Nina was sitting on her bed when I gently pushed the bedroom door open. She was doing something on her laptop, and I stood there for a moment to watch her. Her brown hair had grown much longer since she first moved here. It hung halfway down her back in soft, natural waves as she sat cross-legged and hunched over looking at something on her computer's screen. The sweet memory of twirling those waves around my finger as she lay in my arms made an ache form in my chest as I stood there.
Not wanting to scare her, I tapped on the door and quietly said her name, but she nearly jumped off the bed from fear anyway. Wincing at my clumsiness, I put my hands up to calm her.
"I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm sorry. I was just hoping we could talk."
Shaking her head, she made her apologies. "No, no. I'm sorry. I didn't hear you there. What's up?"
"I wanted to talk."
She closed her laptop and pushed it aside. "You can sit down, if you like. Or would you rather talk somewhere else?"
What I rathered was taking her back to our room on the other side of the house and showing her all the ways I was crazy about her. Instead, I merely nodded and sat down beside her.
"This is a great room, Tristan. Thanks for letting me stay with you."
I forced a smile at her statement, which sounded like something a long lost relative would say to someone who wasn't thrilled about having them visit. "You're welcome, but this is your home, Nina. You don't have to thank me."
Lowering her head, she looked away from me. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine how hard this is for you. Jordan's told me how crazy in love I was with you, and I get that." Looking up at me, she blushed. "I mean, look at you. Who wouldn't be crazy in love with you? I just don't remember. But I don't want you to think that I don't want to remember. I do."
Nina looked away again, her cheeks red from embarrassment. Maybe that was a good thing. At least she seemed to be attracted to me. That was something I could work with.
I took her chin between my thumb and forefinger and gently turned her head to look at me. She still looked down at her hands sitting in her lap, though. "Look at me, Nina. Please."
She lifted her beautiful blue eyes to gaze up at me, and I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry and my brain devoid of all thought about what I'd planned to say. Licking my lips, I began, hoping the right words would come to me.
"Nina, I know this is probably a confusing time for you. Whatever I'm dealing with is nothing compared to what you're forced to deal with. I don't want to make this worse for you. If I do that, let me know. You never have to be afraid to tell me if you're uncomfortable."
"Okay."
"The doctors think that if you get back to your life like it used to be, you'll begin to remember what we were. We just have to make sure you take care of those ribs."
Nina nodded and pressed a smile onto her pretty mouth. "My ribs feel good, so no worries. I hope that's true about remembering. I had hoped something would seem familiar here, but so far nothing."
Her admission of what I already knew hurt just the same. I'd hoped coming home would stir some memories for her too. I guess we were both disappointed.
"It's okay. No hurry. We've got time."
Time. If that's what we had, then I had to make the most of it.
Nina put her fingers over mine and moved them from her chin. Her touch on my skin sent a rush of electricity racing up my arm, making me want more.
"I do have a question. Is that okay?"
I couldn't help but smile. Same old Nina always with the questions. That was something. "Ask anything you want."
She turned to grab her laptop and opened it to bring up a picture of me with one of the actresses at an event a few months earlier. As I examined the image, all I could think of was how Nina had said I looked like a statue when I was with them. I'd never truly realized it until that moment, but I did.
"You seem to have a lot of girlfriends, but I can't find any pictures of me with you at these parties. Why?"
I blew the air out of my lungs and struggled for the best way to explain why there were hundreds of pictures of me with other women. "They aren't girlfriends, Nina. They're employees."
"And I'm your employee?"
"Yes."
"So they're all like I am to you?"
A groan escaped from my throat. This wasn't going well at all. "No. They're employees paid specifically to appear at events with me because I didn't have a girlfriend."
Nina's eyes lit up. "Oh. So there are pictures of us together at events once we began dating? I guess I just didn't get to those."
"Sure. I'm sure there are."
Arching one eyebrow, she saw right through my lie. "There aren't any pictures of us, are there? Why?"
"Because we only attended one event. I'm sure there are pictures, though."
Her look of skepticism turned to one of hurt. "I don't understand. We were together for six months and you asked me to marry you, but we only went to one event together?"
I knew what she was thinking. That for some reason I wouldn't want to be seen with her like I had with the actresses. This was not going as I'd hoped.
"It's a bit more complicated than that. Those women aren't in a relationship with me and get paid to deal with the press. I didn't want you to have to deal with that."
Leveling her gaze at me, she asked, "And what did I want?"
This was definitely the Nina I knew and loved. Smiling, I answered with the truth. "You were jealous and thought I was ashamed of you until I told you the truth about the actresses. Then you were afraid to go with me to the event we attended, but you ended up loving it. It was one of the best nights I've ever had."
Her expression softened and a smile spread across her lips. "Oh."
I wanted to tell her that the sex we had in the back of the Rolls had been better than any I'd ever had with any other woman. That just thinking of it was making me hard. It probably wasn't the right time, though.
"I wanted to talk about you getting back to doing things you used to do." We used to do. "I think it would be good for you to return to work."
"That sounds good. You said I'm your private curator, right? What does that mean exactly?"
"You handle choosing the artwork for the suites and penthouses in my hotels. I give you the assignments and then you present your choices to me."
A look of apprehension came over her face, and she bit her bottom lip. "Was I good at this?"
I'd seen that look before. It was the same one she'd worn that first day I assigned her my penthouse in the city. I'd wanted to take her in my arms and kiss her that day too.
"Very good."
Nina took a deep breath. "Tristan, I'm confused. I work for you as your private curator but I'm also your girlfriend?"
Fiancée.
"You loved the job, so you never mentioned wanting to stop once we began dating and even when you said yes to my proposal."
> "So if I didn't want to work as your private curator anymore, you'd be okay with that?"
"If that would make you happy, then I'd be fine with it."
"What if I wanted a different job?"
"I'm sure there's something in Stone Worldwide that would suit you."
She bit her lip again. "No, I meant what if I wanted to work somewhere other than for you? I just wonder how good an idea it is to mix your business and personal life."
"Don't worry. I'm not," I said as casually as I could, hoping to hide how unhappy I was with where the conversation had gone.
"Well, then I'm not sure it's such a good idea to mix those in my life."
Fuck. I had hoped it would never come to the contract again, but I saw she wasn't going to just accept things. "Nina, you signed a contract obligating you to work for me."
The shock at my callous words was written all over her face. "For how long?"
"The initial period was for six months, but there's a provision that in the event you're unable to complete the six months that the contract is extended when you are able."
"What? How long is the extension for?"
"Two years."
She sat there on her bed staring at me with a stunned look for almost a minute before she finally spoke again. When she did, her words were like a sledgehammer to my chest.
Her eyebrows knitted. "So this is your idea of love, Tristan?"
I knew how this all sounded. I came off like the world's biggest dick, both in the boss and boyfriend departments. I knew that. But if I wanted to keep Nina safe, I'd have to deal with her thinking I was an ass, or worse, growing to hate me. I'd rather her hate me than be hurt by Karl and his buddies on the Board.
Her words hurt, though, so before I said something else that further convinced her of my asshole status, I stood to leave and repeated what I'd told her months earlier. "I can give you whatever your heart desires, Nina, but I can only do it this way."
"What if I can't handle this way, Tristan? What happens then?"
Another sledgehammer to the chest, but this time I couldn't stop myself from saying something in retaliation. "Then I guess you get to live rent free and get paid an astronomical salary for picking out pictures for hotel rooms, Nina."
I stared at her knowing that was a shitty thing to say, but I didn't care. I wanted her to hurt like she'd hurt me. If the look in her eyes was any indication, I'd succeeded.
Good for me. At this rate, I was going to have her speeding away in another of my goddamn cars by the end of the week. As I turned to leave the woman I loved and her new hatred for me, I wondered if maybe that was what was meant to be anyway.
I needed a drink, so I made my way to the room where Nina and I had first kissed to pour myself a scotch before I headed back to my room to begin the emotional pummeling I knew I deserved. In the span of less than a day, I'd screwed things up so completely that the woman I adored was likely making plans with Jordan to leave me before I even had the chance to give her a reason to stay.
I let the alcohol slide down my throat and closed my eyes to enjoy it. At least drinking was working out for me. By the time my second glass was empty, I was calm enough to admit that I didn't have a choice as to whether or not this worked with Nina. Even if she hated me, she had to stay. Karl and the others weren't going to spare her, no matter how much she begged and swore she knew nothing about her father's investigation.
I thought about returning to her room and apologizing, but that would have probably made it worse. No, I needed to think. I headed back to my room and relaxed on the bed. Nina's picture hung on the wall across from me, and as I stared at the blues and reds and those light brown smudges she'd said were my eyes watching her, I saw what I needed to do. I had to go back to the person the shrinks and Rogers had always said would never find true love. The woman who'd painted it wanted me to be that man, no matter how much everyone else didn't. I just had to make her want me like that again.
Easier said than done when the object of my affections was sitting on the other side of the house likely planning her escape.
I dozed off staring at Nina's picture as my mind drifted back to that night at Tony's when she said yes to spending the rest of our lives together. A knock on my door roused me from my nap, and I lifted my right arm to see the time. 9:28. Scrubbing the sleep from my eyes, I walked to the door, expecting Rogers to be standing there all dour-faced with something to report like Nina leaving again. I took a deep breath and braced myself for what he had to say as I opened the door.
"I just want you to know that I think keeping a woman prisoner is against the law in New York."
Nina stood there in the hallway dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and looking incredibly pissed off. But at least she was standing there and not driving away at a hundred miles an hour. That was definitely better than her leaving.
"You're not a prisoner." That was the second time I'd had to say that.
Her right hip shot out and her hand landed on her waist. "Then what do you call this?"
"Would you like to come in and talk?"
"What?" she asked with the same pissed off expression that now mixed with what looked like a flash of fear in her eyes.
"Would you like to come in? You slept in here for months, Nina. I promise. You liked it here."
"Do you plan to answer my question if I come in there?"
"Sure."
I opened the door and held my arm out to welcome her to the room where we'd spent hours falling in love. As always, I couldn't stop myself from hoping that she'd remember some shred of our past together.
"Would you like to sit down?" I asked as I dragged the chair away from the desk near the window.
She squinted her eyes at me and appeared to consider my offer of a seat. "I guess it couldn't hurt."
As she sat down in the chair in front of me, I had to fight the urge to slide my hands over her shoulders and lean down to kiss her like every fiber of my being wanted to. I stood for a few seconds wishing so much to touch her until the heaviness in my heart made it hard to breathe and I forced myself to move away. My feet felt like they were wading through wet cement as I came around to sit on the bed in front of her.
"So you were about to tell me how this isn't me being held prisoner," she said sharply as she folded her arms across her chest.
So much for memories of love.
I turned to point at her painting hanging on the wall. "That's yours. You painted that for me, and I loved it so much I had it hung there so I can see it every night before I fall asleep and every morning when I wake."
She looked at the painting and tears welled in her eyes. "I painted that for you?"
Nodding, I smiled. "You did. Do you want to know what you said the colors represented?"
Nina got up from her chair and walked over to stand in front of the painting. She stared at it for a long moment and looked back at me. "Those are your eyes. I've never seen eyes like yours—that color brown. There's no way I would've painted those two brown areas without wanting them to represent your eyes."
"That's right."
Turning back to face the painting, she asked, "What do the blues and reds symbolize?"
"You said they represented the emotions I made you feel."
She looked at me and a look of pain crossed her face. "Like hot and cold?"
"Sort of. I guess I can be difficult to be around sometimes."
Wiping a tear on her cheek, she shook her head and came back to sit in front of me. "I never paint for anyone I'm dating. The only man I've ever painted for was my father. If I painted this for you, I must have..."
She tried to choke back the tears, but she couldn't stop them and as they began to stream down her face, she ran out before I could do anything to make her feel better. I knew how she felt. The frustration. The loss. I didn't know if I should run after her since the doctors had repeatedly told me to give her time, but I couldn't let her sit over in that room alone crying about us when I was feeling as bad as sh
e was at what we'd lost.
When I got to her room, she was sitting on the edge of her bed with her head in her hands, her body heaving from her sobs. Watching her like this broke my heart, and I couldn't stand there and do nothing. Whatever her doctors thought they knew, they didn't understand what it was like to watch the woman you love fall apart.
I sat down next to her and pulled her close to me. She didn't fight me and buried her head in my chest as she continued to cry. Trailing my fingers over her soft hair, I moved my hands to her back and held her to me, never wanting to let her go. She was my Nina.
"I hate this. You don't know what that painting means, Tristan," she sobbed into my shirt. "I never paint for others. I've always been too afraid to. This means I did feel everything Jordan says I did."
Pressing my lips to the top of her head, I kissed her softly and whispered, "Then that's a good thing, isn't it?"
Leaning back away from me, she shook her head. "No, it isn't! We were in love and now it's gone. I can't remember you or anything about this house or what we felt for each other. It's like it's a dark space where so much good is sitting there waiting for me and I can't find it."
"The doctors said it might take a little while."
"I don't want to wait a while! I had a life and now I have nothing. I sit over in this room and feel like I have nobody and nothing to hold on to."
I cupped her chin and smiled down into that beautiful sad face. "You have me. Hold on to me."
"I'm no fool, Tristan. I may not remember things, but I'm not an idiot. I know who you are. I looked it up. You're a bajillionaire. What would you want with someone like me?"
"Bajillionaire?" I asked, unable to stifle a smile.
"It's a word. It means you have more money than I could ever make in twenty lifetimes and I have no business believing you'd ever want me, a wannabe artist and curator."
