Wanted

by J. Kenner

  Dear god, I'd made a mess of it. My parents hadn't lost just one daughter, they'd lost two. Because they didn't even know Angelina, not anymore. I'd been trying so hard to be Gracie for them that I'd completely buried their youngest daughter.

  You're not being true to yourself.

  Yeah, wasn't that the understatement of the year? And it had only taken falling in love to make me finally see it.

  "Ms. Raine?"

  I was on the patio, standing by the glass barrier, looking out over the lake, though I wasn't really seeing it. Now I turned in response to Peterson's voice. "Yes?"

  "Can I bring you anything? You should eat some lunch."

  "I'm not hungry."

  "You didn't have breakfast." He paused. "Is there something I can help you with, perhaps?"

  "No." He couldn't help me, and I was having one hell of a time helping myself. For that matter, I was having a hell of a time getting my head on straight.

  I knew what I wanted--I wanted to stay. I wanted Evan. I wanted to work for the foundation.

  I wanted to be true to myself. But I was scared of stepping off the path I'd paved for myself. And I was terrified of disappointing my parents.

  There was only one person I knew who could help me. Only one person who could hold me tight and keep me firmly safe while I took the kind of risk that I was thinking about taking.

  I needed to jump--and I knew with absolute certainty that I could only do that if Evan was beside me.

  "Peterson," I called, turning around and catching him before he moved efficiently back inside. "Wait. There is something you can do for me."

  "Whatever you need, Ms. Raine."

  "I need a car."

  The driver took me to Evan's downtown office first, but unless his secretary was covering for him, he wasn't there.

  I tried the boat next, and didn't find him there, either.

  "Shall I take you back home, miss?"

  "No," I said sharply. I pulled out my cell phone and almost dialed. But I didn't want to give him the opportunity to tell me to stay away. "We're going to Destiny," I said, then settled back for the ride.

  I hoped like hell he was there, because if he wasn't, I was all out of ideas. And while I had reached the point of begging Cole for help, I really didn't want to go that route unless it was absolutely necessary.

  I didn't see Evan's car as we drove up, but I also didn't have a full view of the rear parking lot. I thanked the driver and, since I was all about the power of positive thinking, I told him not to wait. Then I stepped inside, paid my cover--this time to a petite brunette--and pushed through the doors into the main room.

  It looked just the same as it had before. The girls were still dancing. The men were still watching. Everything seemed exactly the same as it had been the last time I'd been here. The only thing that had changed was me.

  "I know you."

  I glanced up to see a familiar blonde in a tiny miniskirt and nothing else.

  It took me a second, but I finally recognized her as the girl who'd worked the entrance my last time here. "Hi," I said. "I'm looking for Evan."

  "Again?"

  "Excuse me?"

  She shrugged. "He's in a meeting right now," the girl said, and I silently cheered. At least he was somewhere on the premises.

  "I'll just wait at the bar." I took a step in that direction, and the girl fell in beside me.

  "Um, is that okay?"

  Instead of answering, she looked me up and down. "So you're the flavor of the month."

  I blinked at her. "Excuse me?"

  "It's just that he fucks a lot of women. None of us, of course. Rules and all that shit. But he brings them here. Gets them all hot, you know?"

  I didn't say a word.

  "Anyway, the point is it never lasts. I mean, I'm not telling you anything you didn't already know, am I? He was up front, right? About the fact that you're just a temporary thing."

  I swear there were giant rocks just sitting in my stomach. "Is there some reason we're having this conversation?" It was surreal. I was sitting at a barstool talking about sleeping with Evan to a woman whose breasts were only inches from my face. What the fuck was wrong with that picture?

  She shrugged. "Consider me a walking, talking public service announcement. Because if he didn't tell you, then you should know. Because there's only one woman for Evan. He may burn through a dozen pussies, but in the end, she's the one he goes back to, every goddamn time. I mean, hell, he's even got her tattooed on his arm."

  "He's got--wait. What?"

  "Ivy," the blonde said. "That tattoo on his arm. It's for his girl. What? You didn't know?"

  "I knew," I said, sliding off the stool. "And I know that I need to go talk to him now."

  She didn't try to stop me as I went through the same door that Evan had taken me through the last time I was here. I remembered seeing offices back there, and since I didn't have a better idea, I assumed that he was in one of them.

  I pushed through, found no one on the other side to stop me, and kept on going.

  Ivy. What the hell? I thought of the tattoo on his arm. I'd even asked him about it, and he hadn't told me that it referred to a woman.

  Shit.

  And did that mean that Evan was lying to me--or was the blond bitch the liar?

  I knew the answer I wanted. I even knew the answer I believed.

  I just wasn't sure if what I believed was true.

  I heard voices from behind the closed conference room door, and I paused, my head cocked as I tried to discern if Evan's voice was among them.

  Then the door jerked open--Evan was right there--and I jumped so high I almost bumped my head on the ceiling.

  "Lina?"

  "Holy fucking crap, Evan," I shouted, more because I was embarrassed at getting caught than because I was actually scared.

  Behind him, I saw Tyler and Cole at a conference table that was covered with blueprints and technical drawings and all sorts of sketches.

  They all three looked frazzled. And none of them looked happy to see me.

  "What are you doing here?" Evan said.

  I swallowed, feeling like I'd been tossed into the middle of the school play, but no one had told me my lines. This wasn't the way I'd imagined this. In the story in my head, I'd gone to him, confessed that he was right, and then folded myself into his arms.

  Now I wondered if he'd even missed me at all.

  Now I wondered about Ivy.

  "I made a mistake," I said, forcing the word out past the tears in my throat. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come."

  I caught a flash of worry in his eyes, but I didn't have time to think about it. I turned and ran toward the back door, then pushed through it and out into the bright afternoon sun.

  Immediately, I knew I'd screwed up. The building was huge, and if I was going to get to the street, I had to go all the way around it. "Shit," I snapped, even though I was the only one to hear it. I dug into my purse for my phone as I started to circle the building. I'd call a taxi. I'd call Peterson. I'd do something to get the fuck out of there, because I couldn't stay. But I also couldn't really move, because the tears had started to flow, and the world was blurry, and all I wanted to do was sit down on the asphalt and cry until everything stopped hurting.

  "Baby."

  Evan's arms went around me, strong and firm, and though I wanted to shake them off, I let him hold me as I made my way down to the curb where the sidewalk met the parking lot.

  "Sweetheart, what are you doing here?"

  I pulled away from him, but then I had to hug myself, because as soon as his arms were no longer around me, I felt lost again.

  "Lina? Jesus, Angie, talk to me. You're starting to scare me."

  I sucked in a deep, stuttering breath, pushed my hair off my face, and turned to face him. "Who is she?" I demanded, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Who is Ivy?"

  His eyes widened, and he said very slowly and very carefully--as if I was a bomb that might go off at any mome
nt--"Why do you want to know?"

  I told myself I wasn't going to scream. That I was going to be rational. That I trusted him and I wasn't going to be one of those women who flew off the handle in a fit of jealous rage.

  I told myself that, but I was having one hell of a hard time implementing it.

  I reached out and touched his arm. It was hidden by his shirt sleeve, but I almost felt as if I could feel the tattoo burning into me. "I need to know that you weren't just playing me, Evan. I mean--I guess if you were then it was my own damn fault. I'm the one who said I wanted this to be temporary, right? I'm the one who said three weeks."

  I pushed up off the curb and turned to look at him. I felt the tears trickle down my face, but I wasn't sobbing anymore. I was a wreck, but at least I was a wreck with some semblance of control.

  "But then you asked if I was staying, and I guess I thought--I mean, maybe I hoped--"

  "What?" he asked.

  It was just one word, but he said it with such soft hope that it gave me courage.

  "I came here because you're right. Because I'm not being true to myself. I want art, not politics. Beauty, not bills and bartering. And so I came here to tell you that. Because, because--" I shook my head, not yet ready to put everything into words. "But maybe I presumed too much. Because I didn't know about her. I didn't know about--"

  "Ivy," he said, and I had to close my eyes to block the pain of that one simple word.

  His hands closed over my shoulders. "Look at me," he said.

  I hesitated, then slowly opened my eyes. I saw warmth in his face. Warmth and desire and what looked remarkably like happiness. I think I may have even seen love.

  And then, without warning or pretense, he leaned in and kissed me so gently it almost made me cry again.

  "Come on," he said after he pulled away. He twined his fingers in mine and started to walk toward his car.

  "Where are we going?"

  "I have a few things to tell you," he said. "I think we'll start with Ivy."

  The car ride was quiet, primarily because Evan wasn't saying a damn thing and neither was I. He seemed content to wait. I was afraid to break the silence in case I was wrong and it hadn't been happiness I'd seen in his eyes. And if he was taking me to meet the girlfriend he had secreted away in a tower, then I didn't want to know about it until the last possible second.

  Mostly, though, I was willing to just surrender. I'd worked myself into a frenzy over something I was beginning to believe was a misunderstanding. And I'd twisted my own life and future around because of guilt and fear. I needed to learn to step back--and Evan was the only one I trusted.

  I hoped like hell I wasn't wrong.

  But when we reached Evanston, I couldn't stand it any longer. "How much farther?"

  "Five minutes."

  I swallowed, then nodded. "Okay," I said, and was irritated by the way my voice broke. I glanced sideways at him. "Don't break my heart."

  "Never," he said, with such firm certainty that an errant tear escaped down my cheek.

  I brushed it away, annoyed at myself for being an emotional mess.

  We were in a neighborhood near Northwestern now, and he pulled onto a side street and then up to the gate of a stunning mansion with a beautiful manicured lawn. "We're here," he said, as he keyed in a gate code. The gate swung open and he pulled up toward the house, and as the driveway angled around, I caught sight of a pool, a tennis court, and a guesthouse on the property.

  "Where are we?" I asked.

  "My house," he said, and then killed the engine.

  "Yours?" I wasn't expecting that. "But the houseboat ...?"

  "I prefer to stay there." He opened his door and got out of the car. "Come on."

  I took a deep breath and followed him, not at all sure what to expect but certain of only one thing. If I tried to guess, I would undoubtedly be wrong.

  The front door had a keypad lock and he punched in the code and then stepped inside. I followed, then looked around in silent awe at the beautiful interior. I'd grown up in a fabulous home, and the condo I now lived in was stunning. But the interior of Evan's home was an absolutely perfect mix of beauty and comfort. It reflected money and taste along with an ultimate sense of home. It felt cozy and inviting. And that just made it more odd to me that he didn't want to actually live there full-time.

  "It's me," he called, his volume surprising me. "Who's home?"

  A moment later, a large woman in black drawstring pants and a scrub-style top came in from an adjoining room with a dishtowel in her hands. "Mr. Evan! Why didn't you call? I would have held dinner for you."

  "Don't worry, Ava. I'll fix us something later." He indicated me. "This is Angelina Raine. She'll be staying the night."

  Before I could react to that news, Ava took my hand and was clutching it warmly. "How wonderful! We've heard so much about you."

  I glanced at Evan in surprise. "Thank you. I appreciate you putting up with us on such short notice."

  She waved the words away, and I thought she was going to say something else, but the pounding of feet on the floor above us caught all of our attention. The pounding was followed by a woman's voice calling, "Evan! Evan!"

  Ivy, I assumed, but there was something odd about the voice that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

  And then there she was hurrying down the stairs with the same excitement as a child expecting presents. Her hair was long and unkempt, and it was hanging in such a way as to cover her face. She wore a pink sweatshirt with a giant purple heart on it and Converse tennis shoes. She skidded to a stop in front of us and pushed her hair back out of her face--and when she did, I had to force myself not to gasp.

  The woman's face was so scarred that it was almost unrecognizable as female. She had only half of her nose, her eyebrows were completely missing, and her mouth was twisted now in a strange contortion of a smile. That contortion, however, was filled with so much joy at the sight of Evan that it seemed to light her up from the inside, and made tears sting my eyes. After stopping for just a second, she launched herself into his arms crying, "I missed you! What did you bring me? What did you bring me?"

  "Something very cool," he said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet, opened it, and took out a two dollar bill. "Do you know what this is?" he asked, handing it to her?

  She studied it intently. "Money."

  He laughed. "Well, yeah. But how much?"

  Her scarred eyes widened just a little. "Two! Wow! I've never seen that before! Is it real? Will it buy Twizzlers?"

  "It is and it will."

  "Thank you!" She threw her arms around his neck. "I love you! I miss you!"

  "I love you and miss you, too. And guess what else I brought you?" he asked as she released her grip. He nodded toward me. "A new friend."

  She turned to me and smiled wide, revealing remarkably perfect teeth. "Hi! You're pretty!"

  I had to laugh. "Thank you," I said. "So are you," I added, and was rewarded with her vibrant smile. "And I love Twizzlers, too."

  "Really? Wow! How old are you?" she asked.

  "Almost twenty-four," I said.

  "No kidding?" she asked, as if that was the most amazing thing in the world. "I'm twenty! That's a two and a zero because it's two groups of ten, right Evan?"

  "Absolutely perfect. This is Angelina," he added, indicating me. "Lina, I'd like to introduce you to my sister. This is Melissa Ivy Black."

  nineteen

  We spent the next few hours in the backyard with Ivy alternating between tossing a Frisbee, playing in a sandbox, and answering knock-knock jokes. I didn't ask Evan any more questions--I wouldn't have known where to start. And I knew now that he'd tell me in his own way in his own time.

  "Ivy!" Ava called from the kitchen. "Time for your medicine and bed."

  "Can I watch SpongeBob?" she asked Evan.

  "If Ava says so," he answered, standing. "Come on, we'll walk you in." He took her hand, and when she reached out her other one for me, I took it,
as well. It was as scarred as the rest of her, and I had the horrible feeling that if we peeled off that layer of clothes, her whole body would be scar tissue. The thought made me unbelievably sad.

  Ivy, however, was as happy and bouncy as a child. "Will you be here tomorrow?" she asked me.

  I glanced at Evan.

  "We'll be here for breakfast," he said. "Then I have to get back to work."

  "You work too much," she said.

  He laughed. "I'm trying to fix that. As soon as I do, I'll have more time to spend with you."

  "Yay!" She clapped her hands and then ran ahead into the kitchen after Ava.

  "She's wonderful," I said when she was gone.

  "She's basically six," he said with affection. "Which means that although she was wonderful tonight, tomorrow morning when we leave we'll probably see a full-blown tantrum."

  He reached out for my hand, then smiled when I took it. "Nobody knows about her," he said. "Nobody except Tyler and Cole."

  "And Jahn?"

  Evan nodded.

  I remembered what he'd said about not trusting easily, and I understood in that moment the extent of the gift he was giving me. Not just his trust, but the chance to fully see this man.

  "I thought your mom and sister lived in another state."

  "And I worked damn hard to make sure the entire world thought that."

  "Why?"

  We'd reached the back porch steps and he sat down, then scooted over to make room for me. "To keep her safe," he said. "There are risks to what I do. And sometimes the blowback is on your family."

  "You're talking the criminal stuff," I said boldly.

  "I am," he said. "And yes, I'll tell you. But first I want to know how you found out about Ivy. Not Kevin?"

  "No," I said quickly, understanding his fear. "It was one of the girls at work. A blonde. She was working the front that first time I came."

  "Donna," he said. "She's something of a bitch, and she's been trying to get into my bed for over a year."

  "I thought you didn't sleep with the girls."

  "I don't," he said. "And neither do Cole or Tyler. Tyler had a thing once with one of the waitresses right after we bought the place. It didn't end well." He turned to face me. "Just so we're crystal clear on this, I've gone out with a lot of women, and I've fucked a lot of women. But it never meant anything more than a good time and someone to have a meal with. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  I licked my lips, trying to slow the rapid patter of my heartbeat. "I'm not sure. I don't want to guess and be wrong."