He angles his head to me and gives a small smile, squeezing my hand in his. “This is better.”
Even now, as I stare into his smoky eyes, I know something is breaking him apart inside. I can see it. I can feel it. I want to ask him but somehow I don’t think it’s my place to. At least not yet. He needs to tell me himself and in his own time.
My worry must show on my face because he releases a long-suffering sigh while he’s watching me with assessing eyes. “You surprised me tonight,” he eventually says.
“Did I?”
He nods. “I wasn’t expecting you to enjoy the gala.”
“To be honest, I wasn’t sure how I would feel.” I’d walked away from this high-class life, and I had been wondering if tonight would be different, because Micah gave a lot of his money to charities. I did feel different, but it’s not content or happy; it’s the exact opposite. My stomach knots, dullness forming in my chest, realizing I had a lot of money and I did nothing with it. Tonight everyone had come to support a good cause. Shame weighs on me that I hadn’t done the same, instead of letting my money sit in the bank, pretending it’s not there.
I’m following the smooth sway of Micah’s hips, seeing his expression soften when I finish, “It’s a pretty great feeling watching people helping others.”
“Yes, it is, and I never really looked at it that way before.” His hand sprawls on my back, pushing a little harder, bringing me closer to him, like he needs me to warm him. “You see the world in a beautiful way—has anyone ever told you that?”
“How do I see the world?” I ask, smiling up at him.
“You see good in all things.” He pauses, and a deep line forms between his brows. “Maybe even see it in things that don’t deserve it.”
My smile washes right off my face. I stop dancing and cup his face, not caring who’s watching us. “Where have you gone tonight?” Out in the Bentley I saw a different man. One I didn’t know. I still see that man now. I had a glimpse of him when I first met Micah at Richardsons, a side of him that seemed hauntingly dark. Sometimes I see that guy again. But now it’s not just a side of Micah, it’s all I see, and it’s scaring me.
“I’m here,” he says, leaning into my touch.
“No, Micah, you’re not.”
He says nothing in response, but I don’t need him to. I see it in his eyes that he’s so far away from me tonight. I don’t know why he’s gone to this dark place. But I know how to bring him back, because that’s an instinctual thing.
I stand on my tiptoes, sealing my mouth over his. He needs my touch—I just know it. I need his touch, too. We stop dancing and his hands slide seductively over my face. His hefty erection presses against my stomach and his soft growl weakens my knees. Then I’m no longer controlling the kiss, I’m following, and each slide of his mouth against mine is growing hotter than the one before it.
Sometime later, his slow, deep, and gravelly chuckle slides across my lips, raising goosebumps along my arms before he rests his forehead against mine. “I’m going to do something inappropriate if I don’t let you go.”
I laugh and understand completely. I’m wet and hot in places that shouldn’t be wet and hot with this many people around us, especially because they have camera phones in their hands. “How about drinks on the balcony, then?” I ask.
He steps back, the smolder in his eyes gone just that easily. “I’ll meet you out there.”
My chest feels tight, while I watch him striding away, wondering how he can shut off that quickly. I imagine my cheeks are flushed. It makes me wonder more over the secrets that Micah keeps from me; secrets that I know weigh heavy on his soul. I draw in a long breath, knowing I won’t find those answers tonight, and become more aware of my surroundings now. I hastily move in the opposite direction, passing under the grand crystal chandelier, toward the balcony doors.
Once I clear the doorway, I inhale the night air and exhale the fluttering in my belly, releasing all the heat Micah conjures. I’m not alone out here, so I find an empty spot off to the side of the balcony, and stare out at the same view I saw on my first date with Micah.
Gosh, how much has changed since then.
The relationship with Micah has kinda been a whirlwind, I admit to myself, resting my arms on the balcony, staring up at the twinkling stars. We’ve been up, down, and all over the place. But this relationship is ours, and I wouldn’t change a thing about it.
“You make him happy,” a soft voice beside me says.
I glance sideways, finding a beautiful blond woman, who’s much taller than me. “Pardon?” I ask.
She also rests her arms on the railing, her wineglass dangling over the edge. “Micah seems very happy and comfortable with you.” She offers her perfectly manicured hand with red nail polish on her long fingernails. “I’m Juliet. You’re Allie, right?”
I nod, shaking her hand, wondering if this woman is a past girlfriend of Micah’s, and also how she knows my name. I don’t find ire or jealousy in her eyes, so I don’t get my back up. “Well, he makes me happy, too.”
“How wonderful for the both of you.” Her smile is genuine, and damn, does it ever sparkle with perfect white teeth. “Since you two are out in public together, your relationship must be serious now.”
The second her mouth shuts, I know exactly who she is: a reporter. Why else would she ask such a question or know so much about me? I stare at her and realize the perfect opportunity has presented itself. I could wait for the tabloids to out me to the world. Or I can take control and tell my own story. “Oh, yes, we’re very serious,” I say, feeling damn good to own my life, not fear it. “But I’m sure the better story is that I’m Darius Bennett’s—”
“Darius Bennett?” Juliet cuts me off, eyes slowly widening. “How do you know Darius Bennett?”
I force my lips shut, a sickening feeling swirling in my stomach.
This woman is not a reporter, and I have the distinct feeling that she’s testing me. If I answer right, there’s a secret about Darius she’ll let me in on. “I know him…personally,” is what I decide to say. I watch the way her expression is changing. One second, curious; the next, probing and interested; so I add, “We’re very close.”
Juliet’s brow arches. “Just to be clear. Are we talking about the DC’s Darius Bennett?”
The DC? is hanging on my tongue. But my instincts pipe up, telling me to play along with her line of questioning. She knows things about my half-brother. And I want to know them, too. “Yes, that Darius Bennett,” I lie breezily.
“Interesting,” Juliet comments, then sips her wine, as the light from the patio shows off the slight narrowing of her eyes. “Where did you meet Darius? At his club? Or at Micah’s club, Lace?”
Club? I’m trying desperately to catch up with her. Darius never told me he owned a nightclub. Micah didn’t either. “We met at Darius’s club,” is what I reply. Because I want Juliet to fill in the missing blanks. I want to know who the fuck this woman is to Micah and to my half-brother.
“Hmm…” she mutters, nibbling on her painted red lip. “I wonder why Micah never told me you were with the DC?”
“Well, we all know that Micah isn’t very good at sharing, don’t we?”
Juliet laughs softly. “This is true.”
I don’t hesitate, my instincts telling me to push on. “Were you ever with Darius?”
“Sadly, no, I’ve never had the pleasure of playing with him. But I do hear that he is a very intense and passionate lover.” She turns to fully face me then, raising both brows now. “Is that true?”
I nod, afraid if I open my mouth, I’ll vomit on her. Sex? This is about sex?
Laughter from behind us reminds me that we’re not alone on this patio. I glance over my shoulder, seeing a woman with her hand flirtingly on a young man’s arm. God, who are these people? I’m beginning to feel way out of my element when Juliet asks, “Did Darius introduce you to Micah, then?”
I swallow the bile in my throat. “Yes.”
“I’m surprised a Dominant like Darius wanted to share you, considering Micah’s so enamored with you.” She winks, examining me harder now. “You must be quite a lovely submissive, Allie.”
She’s giving me a compliment, and I truly believe Juliet is a nice lady, but I’m absolutely stuck on what she’s said. Dominant. Submissive. Clubs. She doesn’t need to say more. I understand completely.
Feeling the world somersaulting around me, I turn my head to stare out at the skyline, trying to find my center. San Francisco has four sex clubs catering to a kinky consensual lifestyle, not that I’ve ever been to one before. We also have the Folsom Street Fair. Even if my parents tried to keep me away from the annual street fair during my younger years, I knew about the kinkier side of sex by the time I was thirteen years old.
Now I know the secret Micah’s been keeping.
He’s a Dominant.
And so is my half-brother.
“Juliet.”
The low smooth word sends a shiver down my spine.
“Hello, Micah.” I can hear the smile in Juliet’s voice. “I introduced myself to your lovely Allie.”
I glance over my shoulder at Micah, and I know with one look at his face that Juliet isn’t lying. He’s keeping his distance from me, being unnaturally still, staring into my eyes, undoubtedly fully understanding now that I know his secret.
“Please let me explain…” he says, holding two glasses of wine.
“Explain what?” I hear Juliet say. I assume she’s staring at me, because she adds in a high concerned voice, “But you said Darius. I thought—”
Micah frowns. “Darius is Allie’s brother.”
A hesitation. Then, “Micah, I’m so sorry—”
“This isn’t your fault. I did this,” he says to her, even though he’s looking at me. “Please leave us.”
In my peripheral vision, Juliet strides away, and her long dress flicks at my bare ankle. “Tell me this isn’t true,” I say, gripping the balcony’s railing.
A pause. Then, “Allie…”
“Tell me,” I shout.
He’s locking up his emotions, tight. “Yes, it’s true.”
“All of it?” The club, the submissives, this other life?
“Yes” is all he replies.
I can’t seem to move or say anything. It’s not the kinky sex he’s into that bothers me, it’s the pretending to be something he’s not that’s dropping the ground out from under me. Sure, I knew Micah had secrets, which is why I took it slow with him, never completely trusting him. But I didn’t think that those secrets could hurt me. I thought they had something do with his past, his demons.
“I don’t even know you,” I whisper my pain.
Micah flinches, his knuckles going white against the glasses. “You are the only one who knows me.”
I shake my head, needing to cleanse myself of the deceptions.
Micah shouts my name, and I hear glass shattering as I turn and run. I ignore the people staring at me, all becoming a blur as I run faster, into the lobby and out the front door. A cab is waiting there, and I lurch into it. “Go,” I yell at the driver, slamming the car’s door behind me. I glance out the window as the driver takes off, seeing Micah running out of the hotel and after the cab.
I shut my teary eyes, realizing this is the second time Micah has made me cry in a cab.
Only this one hurt more.
Micah
The house is quiet when I arrive home after a near seven-hour flight from Boston. I’m still on edge since receiving the urgent phone call from my father’s secretary to come home right away. The fact that my father arranged for a private jet to bring me home only tells me something is very wrong.
The light is spilling out from the sitting room and I follow the warm glow forward, until I enter the room. I take in the three people in there and all the blood rushing through my veins begins to cool. “What’s going on here?” I manage.
My father turns around from staring at the fireplace, watching the flames dance about. The iciest black eyes greet mine. “Good. You’re home. Now we can deal with this.”
Deal with what? I’m wondering, but instead of asking, I focus on the only woman in the room. Clara’s head is bowed as she sits on the couch, beside her father, who’s glaring at me. “What’s going on here?” I repeat, needing answers, and needing them now.
“What’s going on,” my father says, stepping away from the fireplace, turning to face me, “is you’re being blackmailed.”
My head is spinning to understand, but then Clara looks at me, and I know exactly why they’re here. The numb expression I see on her face, matched with the vindictiveness I see on her father’s tells me everything. “What have you done?” I ask her.
Her voice trembles. “Micah, I’m—”
“Not saying a word to him.” Her father shoots to his feet, holding my stare, as if I dare look at her again he’ll take me down with a single punch. “You”—he says the latter like I’m a disease about to poison him—“will only speak to me.”
I realize I should’ve expected this. Clara told me not long ago that she thought her father was having financial trouble, and my father once warned me to stay away from Clara. Her father had a reputation of being a shady businessman. But of course that warning didn’t keep me away from her. In fact, my father’s disapproval drew me more to her.
I keep the thought to myself, as my father puffs out his chest, being his intimidating self. “There’s nothing more to discuss.” He moves closer to me, pressing his hands against the back of the chair. I see his white knuckles, which tells me the amount of strength it’s taking him to control himself. “Learn this lesson well, son. Your secrets are for sale. I suggest you keep them to yourself.”
I glance at Clara, incredulous. Even if I believe her father would do this to me, I can’t believe she would. “You’re blackmailing me?”
“You ruined her life,” her father all but spits at me. “You took an innocent girl for your sadistic games and now you’re fucking going to pay for it.”
I see Clara flinch, and I’m forcing myself to keep my chin up, because everything inside me wants to cower away in disgrace, that my father is hearing this. That anyone is hearing this. These are my secrets. And it’s my shame.
Clara looks at me again, and then it’s almost as if the other two men in the room disappear, and it’s just her and me. In that split second, I see that no matter how detrimental this is to me, it’s more so for Clara. I don’t see the life in her eyes I once did. It’s been seven days since I’ve seen her, and in that time of telling her parents the truth about me, and clearly having her crook father go after me for money, she’s ruined herself far more than my secrets ever could.
Her soulful eyes are empty. She’s not even crying, but I can tell it’s not because she’s not hurting, it’s because she has no more tears to cry.
I did this to her.
Me.
No one else.
“Give him the money,” I order.
“Micah,” my father warns. “It’s a million dollars.”
“Then I will owe you that million dollars.” I turn to my father and state my own demands. “End this. Now.”
My father looks at me with such disgust, but his shame rolls right off me. My father has done enough dealings with the Devil that his judgment means shit to me. I see the tremble of his hands as he takes them off the back of the chair. Then again when he moves to the desk and signs a check and hands it to Clara’s father.
Clara stays silent as she passes me, her father pulling her by the arm, but I see the damage. She’s gone. She’s lost now. She loved me, and I destroyed her.
Clara’s an angel. She’s not meant to dabble in such darkness like blackmailing the person you love.
The second I hear the front door slam shut, I blink away my thoughts, hearing my father saying, “Do whatever you have to straighten yourself out, whether it be a therapist, going to rehab, or whatever. You cannot let a sca
ndal like this happen again. Do you understand me, Micah?”
“Perfectly,” I say, staring at the door Clara exited.
“You will not dishonor the Holt family name again.” I keep silent, my head spinning, and my soul feeling ice cold as walls begin to build up around the only warmth left inside me.
My father snaps, “Micah?”
I glance over my shoulder, seeing in his eyes this isn’t about me. It’s about him. His name. His reputation is all he cares about. “My secrets will stay secrets.”
“Ensure they do,” is all my father replies.
The warm breeze drags me from my thoughts, reminding me that I’m in my suite at the Phoenix, standing on the balcony, staring out at the city lights. I vividly remember the way Clara looked the night she left my house with a check for one million dollars. I have a lot of regrets when it comes to Clara, but my biggest is letting her leave that night with her father.
“Thought this would help.”
I glance sideways, finding Levi offering me a large glass of scotch. “Thank you.” I accept the glass and take a huge gulp.
“Call her, Micah,” he says gently, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Allie only needs to understand.”
I’m guessing Juliet told Levi what happened when I requested he drive her home. Levi knows my secrets, as much as Juliet does. I don’t want to talk about this tonight. Not with Allie. Not with Juliet. Not with anyone. “Good night, Levi.”
“Good night” is all he says before leaving me alone.
I don’t even want to think about this. Not with the memory of seeing Allie look at me tonight the way Clara once had. Not with knowing that I had repeated mistakes I’d said I never would. Not when I hurt Allie. Deeply. Again.
I lift my glass of scotch to my mouth and down the entire drink, numbing my mind and warming the chill out of my bones.
My darkness stole Clara’s light.
I can’t let it steal Allie’s, too.
Chapter 17
Allie
Bound Beneath His Pain: A Dirty Little Secrets Novel Page 19
