That’s only going to hurt her more.
I can already tell this is going to blow up in my face. And when it does, I’ll deserve it. All of it. Because I’m being selfish on a cosmically unacceptable level, and no amount of punishment will be enough.
Charlie’s getting her memories back. Slowly. Not all there. But that’s not the point. The point is they’re creeping back, popping back into her mind.
Does this mean at any given moment, what we have could be over?
It’s frightening to think about. It has me on the edge of my seat, and I’m not even sitting. What if we’re lying in bed together, enjoying each other’s company when snap, she remembers everything? Now that her memories are dripping back into existence, Charlie’s a timebomb. It could be a few days from now. It could be a few months from now. It could be a few years from now. It could be a few minutes from now.
When I inevitably get to hell, I don’t think they’re even going to torture me. I’ve somehow devised a torture of my own making, and it’s working plenty fine.
We return to the hotel suite at some point. My brain’s fried beyond the point of temporal recognition. My fate is officially sealed the second the doors close behind us because Charlie slips her shirt up and over her head, exposing the long line of her gorgeous back.
It’s perfectly innocent, her way of cooling off after a whole day spent out under the blazing golden sun. I do my best not to stare at the tan lines that grace her shoulders and arms. Even though I try my best to remain calm, the mere sight of them makes my cock twitch in my shorts.
Charlie throws me a look over her shoulder and smiles. “Sorry. Just a bit sweaty. Let me throw on one of your shirts.”
“Actually,” I say quickly, “you might not want to get dressed right away.”
She smirks at me. “And why is that?”
I gesture toward the master bathroom. “That surprise I mentioned? It’s in there.”
Charlie squints at me curiously, her lips pulled up into an amused grin. She walks past me to get to the bathroom, and I catch a whiff of her beautifully soft hair. It’s light, airy, smells like sunshine and sunblock. She smells like the ocean breeze, which is surprisingly addicting. I follow, like a dog after a mouth-watering bone.
Before we left, I gave Alessandro specific instructions to draw a bath. Not just any bath, of course. I told him I wanted the works for Charlie, nothing less than the best soaps and salts and candles that money can buy.
Around the edge of the massive bathtub are a line of vanilla scented candles that perfectly compliment the coconut soap suds fizzing on the water’s surface. There’s even a serving platter full of chocolatey sweets set out next to the tub, within reach, so Charlie can snack to her heart’s content.
She walks over and dips her fingers in, hand completely disappearing beneath the white cloud of bubbles. “You did this for me?” she asks sweetly.
I nod. “I figured I dragged you outside. Now you get to rest your feet.”
“Thank you, Roman. I love it.”
“Is the water temperature okay?”
“It’s perfect, actually. It kind of reminds me of that lake Uncle Charles took us to that one summer.”
I hold my breath, stunned. “You remember that?”
She smiles, pleased with herself. “I do, yeah. I think … I think that you caught a frog or something, and I freaked out.” She pauses for a brief moment, her face locked in concentration. “No, sorry. You caught a fish. And I remember thinking it was the grossest thing I’d ever seen.”
I chuckle softly, putting on a calm appearance. “Do you remember anything else?” I test carefully.
Charlie shakes her head. “That’s it. I… It fades in and out like that sometimes. The weirdest things seem to set me off. But it’s a good sign, right?”
I nod. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
Of course, I’m internally screaming. I feel like I keep dodging bullet after bullet. So far, Charlie’s only remembering minor things from her distant past. It’s when she starts remembering more recent things that I may be in trouble. What am I supposed to do if she remembers the lawsuit? What if she remembers how much she actually hates me? What if, in the blink of an eye, something triggers all of her memories and they come flooding back? The jig will be up.
I’m feel like I’m on the world’s thinnest tightrope. And it isn’t like I’m a talented tightrope walker to begin with. I know I’m one second away from tipping over the edge. And yet, by some miracle, I’m still here and standing. At some point, I have to figure out whether or not I’m going to risk taking a step forward. I can’t live tetering on the edge of the rest of my life.
Maybe I’m freaking out over nothing. So far, all of Charlie’s memories are harmless ones from our childhood. To my knowledge, nothing that would make her question our current relationship. She hasn’t brought up our inheritance debacle. She doesn’t seem to recall how she couldn’t even stay in the same room as me. If things continue this way, maybe we really can continue on this trajectory and never have to worry.
Is this just wishful thinking?
While I was busy with my downward thought spiral, Charlie’s already stripped out of her clothes and slipped into the tub, soapy water gliding over her body. She looks at me expectantly.
“Are you going to join me?” she asks.
I shake my head, even though the voice in the back of my head is silently berating me.
Excuse me? There’s a hot lady in the tub. Asking you to join. Did you hit your head?
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’d rather you relax. I’d take up too much room.”
Charlie gestures at all the space around her. The tub’s almost as wide as two cars parked side by side, so I don’t know how I thought that excuse would work.
“Come on,” she teases. “Why are you being so shy? Come here.”
Yes, my brain screams. Yes, join her.
I relent. Because of course I do. The most gorgeous woman in the world just asked me to take a bath with her. The most gorgeous woman in the world who happens to think she’s my wife. What am I supposed to do? Say no?
That’d just look suspicious.
I undress and get into the bathtub. The warmth of the water soaks into my skin, instantly relaxing the knots that have been building up with all the tension I’ve been carrying in my shoulders. Charlie curls up against me, moving to sit between my legs. She leans back as she wraps my arms around her waist, her head resting on my chest.
“This is really nice,” she hums contently.
“I’m glad you like it,” I whisper as I gently rest my chin on the top of her head.
“I remember Uncle Charles used to make us share the same bathroom,” she mumbles. “I don’t know why. There were, like, twenty other bathrooms in that place.”
My gut ties itself up in a knot that refuses to loosen. “I think he wanted to teach us how to share.”
Charlie giggles. “Yeah. But I hated it when you took a shower before me and used up all the hot water. Especially during the winter.”
“I blame the water heater,” I say carefully, afraid to trigger anything. “It was old. Couldn’t handle your hour-long showers.”
“They would’ve been shorter if I had enough warm water,” she counters. “I’ve got long hair. It takes longer to wash when I have to deal with the cold.”
I press a kiss into her hair because I can’t help myself. Charlie’s right here, in my arms, in one of the most intimate settings we’ve ever been in. I used to fantasize about moments like this one. I used to dream that Charlie and I could move past whatever the hell was wrong with us and somehow get here. I’ve only ever wanted to show her affection. I’ve only ever wanted to shower her with praise, support her, and do my best to give her everything she wanted.
Old Charlie made that impossible. She had these impenetrable walls of ice surrounding her at all times, unrelentingly defensive and impossible to scale or break down.
New Charlie isn’t like tha
t, though. She has no walls. It’s more like a short picket fence. She’s still cautious, but for very understandable reasons.
And all I want to do is protect her. I want to protect this new version of herself, one I know has always been there, but has been smothered for years under the necessity of perfection.
I’ve heard the rumors. It’s kind of hard to go a day in Chicago without running into someone with a business magazine or the business section of a newspaper. Charlie’s at the top of her field, literally looking down on everybody from her shiny corner office at Bliss Media. I think there’s a reason why Uncle Charles chose her to succeed him. She’s always been tenacious and driven. Even when we were kids, Charlie was obsessed with being the best. Being perfect.
This naturally put a target on her back.
People whisper about her, write terrible things on online forums because they know they’ll remain anonymous and because they can. They called her a heartless bitch for firing a whole slew of senior executives a few years ago. Charlie had used Mister Maloney to find ways of getting rid of them without having to worry about their severance packages and actually succeeded. When the business reporters caught wind of what she’d done, they demonized her. They demonized her without digging any further.
I cared. I cared enough to look for the truth. I knew Charlie was too smart to make such a drastic move like this without a reason. All it took was a few extra clicks here and there on linked articles to discover the whole story. But nobody seemed to care that those very same senior executives had been siphoning funds from Bliss Media’s accounts for years. In exchange for not going to jail, Charlie offered these men the chance for a graceful exit without pay. She’d been fair. She’d been reasonable.
And the rest of the world vilified her for it.
I can’t imagine the kind of shit she’s had to shoulder all by herself. That’s why I couldn’t bring myself to hate her, even when she was so determined to push me away.
She needs me. She needs someone in her corner.
“I love you,” I whisper in hear ear.
Charlie brings a hand up to stroke my forearms. “I love you too.”
“I mean it.”
She twists a little to look at me. Her brows knit together with concern. “What’s wrong, Roman?”
I nuzzle my nose against her cheek and breathe deeply, taking in the steam and the scent of the candles and everything wonderful and warm. “Nothing’s wrong,” I tell her. Because in this exact moment, nothing really is. In this little corner of the world, Charlie’s safe, and that’s all that matters to me.
She turns, water sloshing as she rises and readjusts to straddle my lap with her thighs. I swallow hard, and the sensation of her pussy’s soft lips sliding against my shaft knocks the air out of my lungs. Charlie gives me a smug grin as she kisses me gingerly on the corner of my mouth. She wraps her arms around my neck and giggles.
“Someone’s excited,” she teases.
“Of course I’m excited. Have you seen you?”
Charlie smiles wide as she kisses me, harder this time, her curious tongue sweeping across my lower lip. She rocks her hips against me, drawing a low groan from my chest.
She’s doing this on purpose.
I grip her waist and pull her as close as I dare. Bubbles fizz and pop, the flames of nearby candles flickering to cast a dance of shadows on the tile walls of the bathroom. Charlie reaches behind her and strokes up the bottom of my cock. My hips buck involuntarily into her touch.
“Do you want to?” she asks against my lips.
All logic, reason, and worry jumps out of my head. “Absolutely,” I answer immediately.
I watch in unbridled awe and fascination as Charlie lowers herself on my cock. She tilts her head back and sighs contently, giving me the perfect opportunity to mouth at her neck. I love the heat of her throat and find myself burying my face in it for more and more. I nip and suck, hard enough to leave her marked with red spots all over. This only seems to spur Charlie on as she sets the pace, rising and sinking on my cock with more and more urgency.
The sounds she makes drives me fucking insane. Her voice echoes in my head, travels through to vibrate in my chest, my stomach, alighting me from the inside out. She just sounds so desperate for me that it’s hard not to lose it. I want nothing more than to hold her tight and snap up into her, take her hard and have her slipping over the edge. But she’s the one on top tonight. She’s the one in control.
I’m not complaining.
She rides me, harder and harder, taking exactly what she needs. The hot coil deep within my core tightens, brighter and more intense with every passing second. Our breathing is ragged, panting between wet kisses as we moan into each other’s mouths.
“Charlie. Charlie, fuck, you feel so fucking good. You’re going to make me come.”
She threads her fingers through my hair and tugs, not hard enough to hurt, but definitely hard enough to leave me pathetic and at her complete mercy.
A dark hunger flashes across her eyes. She nibbles on my lower lip and hums. “Then come,” she says simply.
Just like that, the tight coil inside me explodes. Millions of shooting sparks fly out from my core, traveling to the top of my head, the tips of my fingers, and the ends of my toes. I’m fairly certain I black out for a moment, the concept of time and space lost to me for a second or two. When I finally snap to attention, riding out my euphoric high, I’m suddenly aware that Charlie’s climaxing too. Her tight walls clamp down around my throbbing cock, pulsing as pleasure sweeps through her body and leaves her satiated in my arms.
“I love you, Roman,” she says sweetly, a mere whisper in my ear.
I chuckle and kiss her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her chin. She captures my lips with her own before I get the chance to say it back, so I think it instead.
I love you too. More than air. More than the sun. More than anything in the world.
You’re my everything.
I don’t want that to ever change.
“The water’s getting cold,” she mumbles sleepily. “Why don’t we rinse off and order room service?”
I nod, content to simply stare into her dazzling eyes. “I like the way you think.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Charlie
I struggle to fall asleep that night.
Even though my body’s exhausted, muscles in my legs sore from our walk, my mind’s wide awake and firing off at a thousand rounds a minute. I keep experiencing these flashes, snippets of my past life. They’re all random and out of order, all in muted colors like a Monet.
Like the one hanging up in a golden frame in my office.
I don’t know how I know this, but I’m entirely certain it’s the truth. I can picture it clearly, up on the off-white wall of my corner office on the twentieth floor of Blankenship Tower. The piece has been in my private collection for years, my pride and joy as far as the fine arts go. I don’t see the need to spend my hard-earned money on an armada of expensive cars because I have a private driver.
Tommy. I’m pretty sure that’s his name.
There’s pressure behind my eyes, building toward a terrible headache.
I wake up at one. Then three. Then four in the morning. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to drift off. Each time, I start awake, even more groggier and grumpier and frustrated. I snap in and out of dreams, unable to distinguish what’s real and what isn’t.
He left the inheritance to him? Why would he do that?
I can hear myself say this as clear as day. At some point or another, I was seriously ticked off. But what inheritance? Who am I talking to? Why do I feel so upset over something I can’t fully recall? A rolling anger boils inside my stomach, but I don’t understand why it’s there. It’s so intense and deep seated, like it’s been simmering there for a while, and I just hadn’t realized.
Sue him, Maloney. Sue him for everything he’s got.
My chest is so tight that I can’t breathe. The humidity doesn’t hel
p much, either. I clutch at the fabric of my shirt, which is actually one of Roman’s that I’ve borrowed to sleep in. It smells just like him, surrounding me like a warm pocket of comfort. I roll onto my side to look at him. He’s facing away, snoring softly in nothing more than a pair of dark boxer briefs.
The hard line of his back reminds me of the sandy beaches just outside, smooth and rolling and tan. I reach out and brush the tips of my fingers down between his shoulder blades, just to make sure he’s really there and this isn’t a memory or a dream. Just being able to touch him soothes my nerves enough that I can finally take in a deep breath and sigh.
“Charlie?” he mumbles, stirring. He rolls over and takes my hand in his. “You okay?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Is something wrong, baby?”
I really like it when he calls me that. The corners of my lips tug up into a small smile. “I’m just having trouble sleeping,” I whisper. “It’s fine, Roman. Go back to sleep.”
He gives my fingers a squeeze. “No, it’s okay. Is there anything I can do to help?”
I curl up against him, laying in the crook of his arm. “Do you know someone named Maloney?”
Roman stiffens, a frown ghosting across his brow. “Uh, yeah. Why?”
“I … I think I remember talking to him about something. Well, more like yelling at him. I know his name, but I can’t remember his face. I thought maybe he is somebody I work with back in Chicago.”
“He’s … he’s your lawyer,” Roman explains. There’s a careful edge to his words, though, I’m pretty sure I’m imaging things in my sleep-deprived state.
“Oh. Okay, that makes sense. I remember asking him to sue somebody.”
Roman pulls away and sits up, turning away from me. “Do you… What else?”
Forgotten Inheritance (Inherit Love Book 6) Page 9
