“You got it. Extra cheese coming your way.”
I shut myself in my office. Leaning against the door, I squeeze my eyes shut, only to have someone start shoving their way inside.
“Sara.”
Relief washes over me at the sound of Chris’s voice. I move away from the door, giving him space to enter. He steps inside the office, shutting us in, and the deliciously wonderful power of him consumes the room, and me, with it.
“I heard about Michael,” he says, dragging me against him, and he is warm and hard and wonderful in all the unexplainable, perfect ways that are Chris. “I hate that I let him get close to you.” He leans against the door and frames my face. “I swore I’d never let him hurt you again. I thought he was on a plane. Blake’s team confirmed his travel, and watched him get into his car.”
My hands go to his. I will never get tired of having Chris hold me like this, or look at me like I’m the beginning and end of his world, as he is right now. “Jacob told me they thought he was leaving, but I’m fine. This isn’t his fault, Chris. He got sideswiped. And this isn’t your fault, either. You’re the man I love, not my personal bodyguard.”
“The hell I’m not, and Michael will find out that his bullshit doesn’t change anything. You don’t have to worry.”
But he’s worried, and well beyond the normal, bossy, protective man I adore. I see it in his eyes, and I fear my confession last night is why. “I wasn’t afraid, and I’m not about to have a panic attack, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I say. “I told you. They never happen at a logical time.”
He turns us, claiming the dominant position by pressing my back to the wall, framing my hips with his, his hands going to the wall by my head. “Don’t do that, Sara. Don’t assume I think you’re weak. I don’t. You were afraid for Ella’s safety last night. If that’s not a logical reason to have a panic attack, I don’t know what is.”
“And don’t you make excuses for me. That’s denial—the very thing you swear destroys anyone it touches.” I try to duck under his arms.
He shackles my leg with his. “No one’s making excuses. That’s not how I operate and you know it.”
“You must wonder when, and where, I’ll have an attack again.”
He shakes his head. “You’re creating a problem that doesn’t exist, but know this. If you have another attack, I’ll be there to catch you.”
“This is exactly what I didn’t want. I don’t want you walking around trying to catch me.”
“That’s what we do, baby. We catch each other. I’ve accepted that with my meltdowns; now you have to accept it with this. I’m not entertaining any other version of who we are together.” He runs a gentle finger down my cheek. “Understand?”
While his tone is hard, his eyes are not. He means what he’s said. He really doesn’t seem to be letting this new knowledge cloud how he sees me, or us. “This is where you agree with me,” he encourages.
“I do. It’s what I want, too.”
“Good. Now tell me what happened with Michael.”
“He says he’s staying until the trial. And the real kicker? He says he’s doing this to protect me and my father.”
“A way to intimidate you with the threat that he’ll smear you in court.”
“And a desperate play to get back in my father’s good graces, which is exactly what I told him—right before I screamed ‘fuck you’ at him a few times.”
He gives me a deadpan look. “You screamed ‘fuck you’ at Michael?”
“Several times, quite fiercely. And considering it was in a very public place, not one of my most shining moments.”
“Well,” he says thoughtfully, “you did need to make sure you got your point across.” His lips quirk in that sexy, kissable way, and the tight ball of tension in my head dissolves into laughter.
“Yes,” I agree. “I guess I did.”
His hand settles possessively on my hip. “You kicked some ass today on all fronts. David was laughing his ass off at the way you called him and put the detective on the spot.”
“Did you hear that Grant used me to start a fight next door?”
“Yeah, I heard. Interesting development. I wonder what they know about those two that we don’t.”
“He gave nothing away to me. He made me think he wanted to know more about Mark and Ricco.”
Chris brushes some hair from my eyes, his mood doing one of those dark shifts, his fingers lingering on my cheek before falling away. “Your panic attack last night means nothing, Sara. Fighting back today, does. It proves you’re putting the past behind you. You know that, right?”
“Yes,” I say, realizing as I speak that he’s right. “The panic attack scared me because it made me feel out of control, but that’s not how I felt with Michael today. Not at all. I’m not the same person I was when I was with him, or even a month ago. Or even before that last night in Paris. Because of you. Because of us.”
“Us,” he repeats.
“Yes.” I confirm that bond we share. “Us.”
His fingers flex into my backside where they’ve settled, and his gaze lingers on my mouth. When it lifts, his stare is as hot as I suddenly feel. “I want to fuck you right here and now,” he shocks me by announcing.
“Oh no,” I say quickly. “Not here. We can’t.”
“We can,” he assures me, and his fingers begin to inch my skirt up.
My hand goes to his, stilling his actions. “No,” I insist. “Not here, Chris. And the hearing has already started; we have to be ready to deal with the results.”
“It’ll take a while to end,” he says, his fingers tunneling into my hair as he drags my mouth a tantalizing breath from his. “Didn’t we just decide it’s better to focus on what we can control? And I choose to control all the things I can do to you while we wait for David’s call.”
“Chris—” His lips brush mine, a featherlight touch that sends a rush of sensations along every nerve ending in my body. “You’re so unfair.”
“How’s this for fair?” He turns me and walks me backward until I hit the desk. “I’m going to fuck you right here, right now.” His hands go to my waist and he lifts me, setting me on the desk and caressing my skirt up my thighs. “Any objections?” He opens my knees and fits his hips between my legs, nestling the thick ridge of his erection in just the right spot.
“Since you put it that way,” I say, sounding as breathless as I feel, “no objections.”
His dangerously perfect mouth quirks and he leans in, nuzzling my neck, my arms wrapping around his neck. His tongue flicks wickedly over a delicate spot behind my ear that he somehow makes me feel in the deepest part of my sex. My thighs clench his hips and his hand cups my breast, strokes my nipple, and my lashes flutter, lowering. And then somehow, I’m staring over his shoulder at the painting of the roses resting on the ground.
Unbidden, random entries from Rebecca’s journal flicker into my mind. I can almost hear her voice in my head, feel her need for Mark in my need for Chris. Because of this room, which was her office. It’s their place, their past. It’s Mark’s loss and pain and Rebecca’s murder. It’s them, not us. A desperate need to escape rushes over me, and I shove my hands against Chris’s chest. “Wait,” I say, straightening. “Wait, Chris. Wait.”
He leans back, giving me a heavy-lidded stare, his hands coming down on the desk next to me, his breathing heavy. “What just happened?”
My mind races with a million things I want to say to him, about the roses and Mark and Rebecca, but all I can see in my mind is the ring he designed for me. I don’t know what those flowers mean to him yet, and I can’t ruin what he’s done for me over a wrong thing said in the wrong moment. Finally, I say, “This place is them.”
“Them?” he asks.
“Rebecca and Mark. It’s . . . them. I don’t want it to be us.”
Understanding shows in his eyes and he drops his head forward, as if he’s scrabbling for control. His cell phone rings and he straightens, reaching f
or it. “David,” he announces, answering the call.
“Is it over?” he asks, listening a moment and then giving me a nod.
Scooting off the desk, I tug my dress back into place, my eyes not leaving Chris’s impassive expression as he listens to David. I watch the tick in his jaw get faster, until he abruptly turns, giving me his back. “She’ll have a monitoring device?” he asks, leaning a hand on the door.
My pulse leaps, and my fist balls on my chest, where my heart is now thundering. Ava’s getting out of jail. She’s going to be free. I drop my face in my hands, trying to calm the white noise in my head and listen to Chris’s conversation, but I can’t seem to make it happen. Calm down, I tell myself. Calm down! Finally, Chris’s voice comes back to me.
“Me?” I hear him ask. “When? Fuck, David. Yeah. Okay. I’ll be there.” Silence follows, and I realize he’s ended the call.
Letting my clammy hands drop to my lap, I say, “They let her go.”
“Yes.” He stuffs his phone in his pocket and comes to me, his hands settling on my knees. “She’ll have an ankle monitor, and we have a restraining order in place as a condition of her release. David’s still working on the approval for us to go back to Paris until the trial, which will be months away.”
“They dismissed the murder charges?”
“For now, but David seems to think that might change. They want me and Mark down at the station.”
“Why you? Detective Grant told me he cleared you, Chris.”
“That’s the first I’ve heard of it, but either way, if I can help them lock Ava back up, I will. Hopefully it won’t be long, but I’ll take you home first.”
“No. I’ll stay. Blake’s team will be less spread out with me here, and I’ll know more of what’s going on.”
“That might actually be better. I know you knew this was coming, but your name did end up getting released in court with the press present.” He grabs my hips and settles me against the desk again. “It gets worse, though. For starters, Ava’s counsel stuck to the giant conspiracy story about the four of us framing her to shut her up over Rebecca’s death, so that theory went out to the press.”
“Detective Grant told me he’s completely cleared us. Can’t they speak up for us?”
“Truth or fiction, it’s not really relevant in the bond hearing. Unfortunately, Ava’s crazy claims, along with the dropped murder charges, muddied the prosecution’s case enough to lower her bond.”
“This is all stuff I expected,” I say, and I cannot help but notice the subtle tension tightening around Chris. There’s something he’s dreading telling me. “What else, Chris?”
“Ava’s counsel claimed you hated Rebecca because she was my lover.”
Nineteen
“I never touched Rebecca, Sara,” Chris says, his legs capturing mine as if he’s afraid I’ll try to escape.
“I know you, and I know the defense is doing their job—no matter how sleazy their tactics. That doesn’t mean it’s not hard to hear the things they’re saying.”
“Believe me, baby, I know. And it’s all the more reason for us to get out of town.”
I sigh. “I suddenly wish I were back at the chateau in France.”
“If I could charter a plane and make that wish come true tonight, I would.”
“I know. But we’re trapped in the middle of this mess. Can’t the police just clear us publicly, to take some of the pressure off of us?”
“Don’t get your hopes up. David cautioned me that they often give people room to hang themselves. We have to remember that they’re playing dirty ball with people who play dirty ball. They don’t know whom to trust until they discover the facts; facts we want them to find. And remember, too, that even if we’re cleared, the press nightmare won’t end. We’re targets to these fame whores Ava has representing her, and if they can make this their O.J. Simpson case, they will.”
“That’s exactly what they seem to be doing.”
“It’s going to be a hundred times worse after that news special tonight, and I want us out of town before it airs. We’ll have Blake send us a recorded copy to watch after we’re away from the city.”
“Won’t the press find us at Katie and Mike’s?”
“We’re staying at a private house I rented. We’ll be fine.”
Any relief I feel is washed away by an upsetting realization. “We can’t go to see Katie and Mike. I can’t even imagine what they’ll think about what’s being said in the press. How am I ever going to face them again, Chris?”
“I called and warned them—fully. I told them how dirty this was getting. The first thing Katie did was ask how you were holding up.”
“Because she’s proper about everything. That doesn’t change what she might be thinking about me, or us. I’m too embarrassed to face her and Mike.”
“Don’t be. They know how the press operates. They had an issue with the press over a competitor-created scandal years back. They know how things are twisted for other people’s benefit.”
“Still—”
He cups my face and kisses me soundly on the lips. “I promise, baby. If I thought it was a problem, we wouldn’t go there.” He steps back and glances at his watch. “I need to get moving so I can get back here at a reasonable time. I’ll ask Mark to walk out with me so I can pick his brain about anything he knows that we don’t. I’ll call or text you if I’m going to be more than an hour.” He disappears into the hallway.
It’s going to be hard to hear the accusations about Chris and Rebecca; my heart aches just thinking about it. I want all of this to go away and I can’t make it happen. Nothing I do changes anything, and I’m left with a clawing sensation inside me—like I’m supposed to do something before it’s too late, but I don’t know what it is, or why.
• • •
Three hours after his departure, Chris still isn’t back from the police station. Judging from his numerous text messages, he’s doing a lot of waiting in between a lot of talking, and I have no idea when he’ll return.
Thankfully, inside the gallery things have been calm, though Jacob has warned Ralph and me that there’s a circus outside.
I’m just about to deliver the last of the data I’ve collected for Ralph, when Jacob walks into my office. “Amanda’s safe and at her parents’ place in L.A.” He sets a piece of paper with a number on it down on the desk. “Thought you might want that.”
Relief washes over me. “Oh, thank goodness. But why in the world is she in L.A.?”
“No idea. We tracked her travel data. We have no other details, but I’m guessing someone or something spooked her. We need to know who or what, and people talk more openly to those they trust.”
Understanding, I nod. “I’ll call her and let you know what I find out.”
“Remember you’re all over the news. She’s going to know what’s being said.”
My belly clenches. “I figured as much.”
“I’ll be in the break room in case you need me. I never ate my lunch. You might want to consider joining me and eating yours.”
“Yum,” I say. “Cold pizza.”
“A microwave works miracles.”
“A microwave makes soggy crust.”
“Which is better than nothing.” He disappears into the hallway. My attention shifts to the phone number he’s given me, and I do what I’ve avoided all day: I google the local news. I know from the first sentence I’m going to wish I’d skipped the story, but it’s like I’m transfixed by a bad horror movie, and I keep on reading.
Guilty, or a victim of a sexcapade gone wrong? That’s the question about Ava Perez. Accused of murdering Rebecca Mason, who has been missing for months, she now claims her confession was brought on by blackmail. Those charges were dropped today, but she’s still accused of attacking Sara McMillan and trying to kill her. So who is this Sara McMillan? She works for Mark Compton, said to be the kingpin of a high-end sex club. Ms. McMillan is also dating acclaimed billionaire artist Chris Merit, who is r
umored to be a member of said sex club. Both men were allegedly intimately involved with Rebecca Mason, the missing woman who once held Sara McMillan’s job.
I can’t take any more, and I hit Escape and press my fingers to my throbbing temples. But I had to know what’s being said; denial is dangerous. And I’m okay. I won’t be a victim to anyone, including the press. Nothing in this story is unexpected.
Grabbing my cell phone, I punch in the phone number Jacob has given me to reach Amanda. After three rings, a man answers. “Hi,” I say. “I’m looking for Amanda. This is Sara. I work with her.”
“Hold on.”
The line goes silent and I wait for what feels like forever.
“Sara?” She sounds awkward, like she doesn’t really want to talk to me.
“Amanda. Hi. I was worried when you didn’t show up at work.”
“I meant to call you.”
“What happened? I was afraid something happened to you.”
“I know.” She’s silent a moment. “You were right. I was in over my head.”
“What does that mean?”
“Ryan. He’s into all that kinky stuff you guys are into, and I’m just not.”
“There is no ‘you guys’ to this. I told you the news was going to report a sex scandal today. Ava’s people are trying to make me look bad so the DA will drop the charges.”
“I heard she attacked you.”
“She did. I had stopped by Mark’s to ask his advice about something, and she was there with Ryan. She started screaming that she was going to kill me, like she did Rebecca. It was horrible.”
“Oh God. I had no idea.”
“It was beyond horrible. But maybe we can at least get justice out of this.”
“Now I feel bad for leaving.”
“Don’t feel bad for getting out of this mess. I’m sure you can keep your job if you want it.”
“No. No, I can’t come back. Ryan—he did things, and I started crying, and it was horrible. I can’t face him and then Mark and you, and—”
“Sweetie. I’m not into the things Ryan is. Neither is Chris. I tried to warn you.”
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