Bound Beneath His Pain: A Dirty Little Secrets Novel

by Stacey Kennedy

  “Oh, well…” Her lids lower. “I think Shawn is cheating on me.”

  Shawn’s this guy she’s been seeing for about a year now. I’ve only met him once, when I visited her last spring. I wasn’t a fan then. I’m definitely a hater now. “Do you realize how calmly you said that?”

  “Yeah, I do.” She gives a soft nod, looking so much more tired—no, broken down—than I ever remember her being. “To be honest,” she adds, “I’m sure he knows that I know, and he doesn’t seem to care.”

  “What a fucking asshole!” My fingers tighten around my iPad. I don’t understand why Taylor stays with Shawn. Or, really, why she dates any of the idiots she does. She can do so much better.

  Her eyes are dark with despair, her skin ashen from too many past hurts. I want to reach through the screen and hug her so badly. I’ve grown used to seeing that sadness over the past five years grow a little bit more every single day—desolation that hadn’t been there when she lived in San Francisco with me.

  “Please come home, Taylor,” I plead with her. “If he’s being such a fuck-face, why stay there?” Taylor had originally moved to be with another guy, who ended up going to jail for check fraud, which shocked the hell out of the both of us. He didn’t have the criminal vibe about him. “San Diego has nothing to offer you anymore. And I’m here, waiting for you to come home.”

  “But this is my home now.” Taylor’s lip quivers, her shoulders curl. “I do love Shawn. It’s not that easy to just pick up and leave.”

  Oh, hell yes, it is that easy!

  My heart sinks into my stomach and I’m fighting back tears. God, I’m not sure when love got so confusing for Taylor. But how Shawn treats her isn’t love. It’s something else entirely. Something I wish I could protect her from. Something that makes me so angry at her and my half-brother. They both punish themselves by staying apart and I have no damn idea why.

  I want to lecture her now. But she doesn’t need that from me, so I repeat the question she asked me earlier. “So, what are you going to do?”

  “I haven’t quite figured that out yet.”

  “Once you do, if that leads you home, you’ll stay here, right?” Sometimes I wonder if her parents are why she’s staying away. Taylor’s parents are dream parents. You know, the ones where her father is a director at a small software company and her mother is a stay-at-home mom. They truly live the American dream. They have the perfect family, with one boy and one girl, the perfect house, and even the white picket fence. I can only imagine she doesn’t want to disappoint them. And, well, Taylor’s one of those people who always thinks of others before thinking of herself.

  “Yes, for a thousand times over,” Taylor drawls. “I know you have a room waiting for me. I know you want me there. And your place is exactly where I’ll come if I leave here.”

  “Okay.” I smile big at her. “As long as we’ve got that straight.”

  She gives a laugh that’s void of any warmth. “There’s just a lot to figure out. I’ve got my job and my life here, too.”

  It takes everything inside of me to not demand she come back now. Here, with me, everything is better. “Just don’t forget yourself, babe, and what makes you happy.” I blow her a kiss through the iPad.

  She catches the kiss and smacks her hand against her cheek. “Right now I’m trying to figure out what makes me happy anymore.”

  I stay silent, not commenting on that statement. She’s gotta figure this mess out for herself, no matter that I wish I could help her.

  “You know, I was thinking today about the first time we got totally smashed, at Johnny Hampton’s party in high school, and had to call your parents to pick us up,” I eventually blurt out, in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood. “Remember how I threw up all over the backseat of your dad’s car?”

  Taylor sputters a laugh. “Oh, my God, yes!”

  My muscles go lax at the sweet sound and warmth slides into my veins at the tension leaving her face. We’ve seen each other at our highs and at our lows. But Taylor’s low seems to have lasted for a whole five years now. I might not have answers for her, but I plan to remind her of the woman she used to be, as often as I can, hoping that maybe one day she’ll be that woman again. “Your mom, though, remember what she did, how she made us wake up early the next day? Remember how many times we barfed our guts out when we were forced to make them bacon and eggs?”

  “That sucked so bad.” Her eyes crinkle, an honest warmth filling their depths. “Total hell.”

  I smile with her.

  No matter how hard times had gotten, we had each other.

  On tough days, that’s always enough.

  Chapter 4

  Allie

  When I enter Holt’s reception area the next morning, my high-heel shoes drag against the floor. The receptionists are chattering on phones and the waiting room is bustling with clients waiting for their dream houses to be found. I hold the two coffee cups out in front of me, my mouth salivating for some liquid energy. Ugh. I need to sleep and stop thinking about the smooth man on my mind. Being tired is never a good thing for me. I’m not as strong when I’m sleepy and I need to be on top of my game around Micah.

  I pass each door, noticing my co-workers huddled together in groups, murmuring about something and holding small bouquets of flowers in their hands. I tilt my head, catching their conversations, ranging from “Did we make a big sale?” to “Why is Micah so happy?” to “Am I being fired?”

  My mind is racing and now I’m hurrying down the hallway to get answers from Liv as to what is going on. When I enter my office, I find a large bouquet of flowers on my desk and a slightly smaller one on Liv’s.

  I’m already putting two and two together, that Micah wanted me to accept his flowers so much he bought everyone in the office flowers, as I spot Liv’s wide grin while she tells me, “Girl, you must have the secret something to snag a billionaire.”

  “I can’t believe he did this,” I admit, handing her the coffee I got for her.

  “Me neither. It’s kinda sweet in a weird dominating way, eh?”

  I nod at Liv and then move to my desk, feeling her eyes following me. Sure, he still didn’t hand deliver the flowers to me. Of course, yesterday he told me he would have, but knew better than to do that in front of everyone.

  Okay, so he’s won this particular battle, I admit to myself.

  “What did you say to him when he showed up at the restaurant?” Liv asks as I take a seat behind my desk.

  Obviously I had to text her right after. I place my purse in the bottom drawer and my coffee next to my keyboard. “I told him that singling me out in any way was a bad idea, as it would lead to problems for me in the office.”

  Liv laughs. “So he sends flowers to everyone?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Wow,” Liv breathes. “Just wow.”

  “No kidding.” I really look at the flowers he gave me, noticing a mix of red roses and white hydrangeas. The flowery scent spirals around me, and I can’t deny the beauty of the flowers, or the sweetness of his gesture.

  The girl in me wants to jump up and down in excitement that any guy put this much effort to go on a date with me. Clearly, Micah’s determined to get a yes out of me. And he’s damn well making sure I can’t forget about him. My throat dries uncomfortably when I reach for the card and open it, finding Micah’s handwriting.

  Allie—

  One date.

  Don’t make me wait too long.

  —Micah

  I run my fingers over the writing on the card, acknowledging the butterflies fluttering, and wondering what happens when you make a man like Micah wait too long. Part of me loves the attention and realizes he has no intention of giving up. In fact, I’m a bit surprised he hasn’t pulled the I gave you Richardson. You’ll give me this card. The other part fears this is a battle that I won’t win. But all the lessons from my mother echo in my mind.

  I can’t repeat her mistakes.

  I won’t.
/>   “I take it a date is in your near future,” Liv states before sipping her coffee.

  I snort, placing the card in the drawer and out of sight. “Oh, yes, because that would be a great idea. Let’s date the very well-known playboy who happens to be my boss. Definitely a CLM, if you ask me.”

  “Oh, yes, career limiting move, for sure. I mean, because dating a gorgeous billionaire is every woman’s worst nightmare.” She gives me a well-deserved You are an idiot look.

  It is crazy!

  I should be overjoyed about Micah pursuing me. Most women would be all over this. But Liv doesn’t know the true reasons I can’t be with him. She doesn’t know the real me and where I came from. She doesn’t know about my mother. She doesn’t know about the money.

  “Might I remind you that he is Micah Holt?” I shoot back at her. “The guy’s splattered all over the tabloids with a new woman on his arm every month. Anything between us would be short-lived anyway—he’s not what I want in a guy.”

  “Oh, I’m not saying to date him seriously.” Liv shudders a little, twirling from side to side in her swivel chair. “He’s a heartbreaker, for sure. But he’s also pretty, so you could”—she grins and waggles her eyebrows—“enjoy that pretty package for one night.”

  “No.” I shake my head, adamantly. “You know I hate one-night stands.” I had one once with an Irish man when I traveled to Ireland. It was the accent, sexily spoken to me while I was intoxicated, and my panties disappeared. That experience was enough—been there, done that.

  “What I know is,” Liv drawls, her foot clad in a black high-heel shoe bouncing in time with the music coming from the radio, “you need to remove your halo and get some horns on that pretty little head of yours.” My lips part, and she waves me off. “I know. I know. A one-night stand is against your angelic morals.”

  Liv loves her bad boys, including her one-night stands. She’ll never understand this about me. “There’s nothing wrong with having morals.”

  “In the nineteen hundreds,” she counters with a level look. “You live in the twenty-first century. It’s okay to want sex and a lot of it.” Her eyes dance as she sips her coffee again. “But since you’re clearly in a state of denial, where you somehow think you can refuse the powerful and damn hot Micah Holt, tell me more about what happened with the Lowes yesterday?”

  I sigh, grateful for the subject change. “I got their wish list,” I report, “Last night I stalked the MLS and found four possibilities that I’m planning on showing Jenny in an”—I glance at the time on my monitor—“hour and a half.”

  “Perfect.” Liv smiles, placing her coffee cup down beside the stack of papers on her desk. “That gives me enough time to fill you in on all things Holt.”

  I settle into my seat and reach for my coffee. “Okay, hit me with it.”

  “Our go-to guy about new clients is James,” Liv explains.

  “What department is he in?” I take a sip of my coffee, catching a whiff of the vanilla syrup before the warmth slides down my throat.

  “They call the department Real Estate.” Liv riffles through the papers on her desk. “James is one of the team leads who works under the Director of Real Estate, who reports to the Vice President of Real Estate.” She looks up from the papers and gives me a tight smile. “We’ve been placed into James’s division, so he’s our guy.”

  I shake my head, trying to get my bearings. “This company is huge.”

  “Yup, it’s massive.” By the strain between her brows she’s struggling to wrap her head around all of the different departments now. Because she knows I rely on her for that stuff. “Get this, though. James sent me the background info for the Lowes.”

  “Background info?”

  Liv nods, grabbing a folder out from the papers and bringing it to me. “It’s like Mission Impossible around here.” She hands me the file, and as I open it, she returns to her desk, adding, “Everything, and I mean everything, about the clients is in that file. Like, what their previous houses look like, what charities they’re involved in, their income bracket, things like that.”

  I snort a laugh, reading that my new clients have two Labrador retrievers and no children. “Jeez, it’s like an invasion of privacy. Whatever happened to, I don’t know, meeting with clients and talking to them?”

  “Old times, girl. Old times.” Liv sighs, scanning over the stack of papers on her desk. “I’ve never seen anything like this place. Let me just tell you, I’m damn happy that I got a raise.”

  “Because you deserve it?” I offer.

  “Well, yes, of course I do.” She gives a sly smile. “That said, the number of people I’ve had to meet and figure out what in the hell they do around here is worth that money alone.” She takes a deep breath, moving her shoulders and lifting her chin. “Okay, and last but not least, if you need a breather”—I often do when dealing with difficult clients, as Liv is well aware—“I learned from another assistant I met in the break room that Holt has one helluva rooftop patio for all employees to enjoy, not just the big shots on the sixty-first floor.”

  “Nice,” I say.

  She nods. “Now, Ms. I-Am-So-Hot-the-Billionaire-Boss-Wants-to-Shag-Me, you have a meeting with James and the other agents in his division in five minutes to discuss stuff I don’t care about. Better get moving to Hogwarts—it’s the third door after the reception desk.”

  “Hogwarts?” I repeat, rising from my desk.

  “Ah, yes,” Liv says. “The folks around here got bored with the regular meeting room names so they proposed to the higher-ups that they rename them with locations from Harry Potter. I guess Micah agreed.”

  Micah has a fun, non-serious side?

  Now, that’s unexpected.

  Okay, maybe I’m not opposed to finding out there’s more to him than money and power. “That’s surprising, but cool.” I step around my desk with coffee in hand.

  “Yup. Very cool of him.” Liv glances down at the papers on her desk, hastily ignoring me as she does when working. “Now get moving or you’ll be late.”

  “I’m already gone,” I call, exiting our office.

  Being sweet and having a fun side are things I didn’t expect from Micah, but just because he erased two check marks on my do-not-date-Micah list, it’s still a very detailed one. There’s no way he can possibly erase all my bullet points.

  He can’t be that good.

  He is Micah Holt after all.

  Micah

  My mind is straying from work, centering solely on the woman who’s spellbound me. One floor below, Allie is likely staring at the flowers I sent her, and it’s taking all of my willpower not to go down there to find out if she likes my gesture. Most women I can read like an open book, because they are all the same. Allie, though, she’s a whole different breed of woman.

  “Micah, are you with us?”

  I blink back to consciousness, reminding myself that I’m sitting at a rectangular steel conference room table in the Ministry of Magic—which is located right next to my office—completely surrounded by glass walls. I still haven’t gotten used to the new names for the meeting rooms, but even if I’ve never seen the Harry Potter movies, happy employees equal excellent workers.

  “Yes, I’m with you,” I tell Anderson, clasping my hands atop the table. “Run the conversation by me again.”

  Anderson gives me a puzzled look before tapping his fingers against the papers in front of him. “We were talking about this new direction for Richardson.”

  “Ah, that,” I mutter, steeling myself for the conversation ahead.

  Holt’s V.P. of Real Estate, Isabella, says, “Yes, that. Do enlighten us why you made this decision.”

  I spot the side of Anderson’s mouth lifting in amusement before I address Isabella, who, by her scowl, isn’t as amused. “It’s a personal matter to me.”

  “I understand that, Micah,” Holt’s CFO, Travis, states as he sits straight as an arrow next to Anderson. “But we should be reconsidering this. Have you
looked at their reports?” He thrusts a hand through his copper-colored, stylish hair, causing his suit to stretch against his bulk. “This made sense as an acquisition to remove one of our competitors. It makes no sense to keep Richardson as is.”

  I lean back in my swivel chair, lacing my hands behind my head. I can’t disagree. It is a terrible decision. We had paid a higher price for Richardson because we weren’t the only interested buyers. But this time—this one time—I’m okay with making a bad financial decision.

  “I agree with Travis,” Isabella adds; her stern, light green eyes intent on mine. “It doesn’t make sense. We’d be throwing money away before we ever saw a return. Not only do we need to relocate the business, but we’ve taken all of their bestselling agents and brought them into Holt.”

  Anderson glances my way and frowns. “They’re right.”

  I sigh, turning in my chair, glancing out at the skyline, and seeing the sun high in the afternoon sky.

  On one hand, I can’t argue with anything being said. Holt isn’t only my company; it’s my team’s company, too. It’s been born from their sweat and blood, as much as it has from mine.

  On the other hand, the way Allie looked at me when she worried for her co-workers flashes through my mind and still stops me in my tracks. I can’t turn back. I made her a promise. I won’t break it.

  I draw in a long breath before facing them again. “Right now, I’m not changing my mind on this decision.”

  Isabella shakes her head in frustration, not about to back down. “We acquired Richardson for its clientele and to stake our claim in the residential market.”

  A frown begins pulling on my lips. While I don’t like being questioned, she’s not wrong—Holt deals mostly with mergers and acquisitions regarding commercial properties, but Holt’s residential real estate department is what we hoped to grow this year, selling not only high-income homes, but dabbling more into the middle-income market to dominate the entire industry.