“Shiloh!”
I ignore the shout as I throw my shells against the window. The sound isn’t as loud as I need it. I reach for the lamp but strong arms band around me. I kick and squirm, but I’m pinned to his chest. My throat is sore from trying to shout and my eyes are wet with salty tears.
“Stop,” he says in my ear. His voice is too calm and low.
I fight him harder. I want him to yell at me. I stomp on his toe, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, we turn and Pierce pins me to the wall.
“Relax,” he whispers in my ear. My blood heats.
I throw my head back, connecting with his chin. His grunt is exactly what I wanted.
I spin out of his hold but only make it a few steps before Pierce tackles me to the floor. I’m quick but not as strong as he is. He flips me to my back and his fingers clamp around my wrist. I buck underneath him as he straddles me, pinning my hands above my head.
“I wish I could hear your screaming,” he says as he stares down at me. “What would you shout at me?”
I can’t move with him on top of me like this. I exhale loudly, my body deflating as the air leaves me. Pierce doesn’t move, trying to read my silent words on my face.
“You think I’m going to take you home.”
I glare up at him, trying to keep my face hard to hide the emotions swirling inside me.
It doesn’t matter anyway because Pierce can hear me from the inside. He can always read me, it seems.
“What are you running from?” The question is whispered, and I close my eyes. I don’t want him to see the answers.
Warm fingers touch my face. The touch is soft compared to the force he just used on me. He caresses my cheeks, over my bottom lip, and down my neck. My eyes shoot open as his hand covers my throat.
“You’re a fighter,” he says as if he’s piecing together parts of me.
Will he know how many times I fought with James like this at home? Will he see the hurt I feel is mostly on the inside? Our position is intimate, too close. Every part of my body is touching his. I feel his heat on me and his breaths fan across my lips. I feel naked even fully clothed. I flinch as he tightens his grip.
“I thought we were trusting each other?”
Are we?
“Trust me.”
I swallow under his hold. Pierce lowers his head to mine, his lips brushing my ear.
“I’m not letting you go anywhere. I’m not done learning your secrets yet.”
I inhale his words as Pierce releases the hand on my wrists but still holds my throat. I leave my hands above my head as he slowly sits up.
His gaze moves down my body. He takes his time and makes no effort to hide his perusal.
“Who are you?” he asks.
Excellent question.
Stretching my fingers, I find the pen that I threw in anger. I pull the cap off with my teeth and take the hand off my neck.
I feel his eyes on me as I ink into the palm of his hand. I press hard so the black ink will stay. When I’m finished, I let him pull his hand away. Pierce runs his fingers over the letters I wrote on his skin.
Shiloh.
Strip me of my last name and family history. Take me without my father. Know me without the guards and the secrecy. Use me but don’t hide me.
“Fine. Keep your secrets. But know I will crawl inside you and find every single one.”
“Clean this up.”
I’m released and he leaves me alone in my destroyed room. Outside the windows, a darker storm than the one inside me is brewing.
I slowly clean up the mess I made. Gathering the broken shells, I place them carefully back in the drawer. They’re even more broken than before, but I keep them because they survived. Just another storm for my shells.
A knock sounds and I turn to find the guard I assaulted downstairs.
“I came to apologize and help hang the rods back up,” he says with his hands raised in surrender.
I tilt my head to side. He came to apologize to me? I should be the one to say sorry. Pierce must have sent him. I take the pen and motion for him to come closer.
“I’m Alonzo by the way,” he says as I take his hand. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
We both glance at the spot on my arm where he grabbed me. The redness is already fading. I write inside the palm of his hand just as I did Pierce.
Sorry.
Alonzo laughs. “You were just defending yourself. Don’t be sorry.”
He turns to grab a drill and ladder from outside the bedroom door.
“You are tough, though. I respect that.”
I try to hide my smile. James never found it endearing. Mostly because he was on the other end of my violence.
I help Alonzo hang the curtains, watching as the dark clouds roll in. The electricity can be felt in the air. Back home we rarely saw rain. I feel the humidity rise and pull my hair off my neck, wrapping it in a messy bun then sticking the pen through to hold it in place.
“It’s supposed to get bad tonight so close the windows before you go to bed,” Alonzo tells me once we are done.
I nod my thanks. Besides Pierce, he’s spoken to me the most. The rest ignore me and pretend I’m not even there. They speak like I can’t hear them.
When Alonzo leaves, I stand on the balcony watching the waves grow and the storm move in.
chapter eleven
pierce
THUNDER RUMBLES AND lightning streaks the sky. Flashes light up my bedroom. The raindrops pound on the windows and roof, and I can hear the waves crashing against the rocks down below. The wind howls outside. It’s a melody.
In my bed I stare up at the ceiling. Lorenzo texted he was heading back to Nevada to follow a lead on the dancer. To be honest I almost forgot all about her. Shiloh is a distraction. One I’m not sure I can afford.
A loud crack sounds and the house goes silent. The air conditioner shuts off and the light in the halls goes black. Everything feels unnaturally still. A soft thump comes from the room next to mine.
Shiloh. She probably isn’t used to the storms since she was raised in the desert.
I get out of bed, unable to sleep in the heat and stale air anyway. Grabbing my phone, I walk down the dark hall to her bedroom. I knock once before letting myself enter her room.
Expecting to find her huddled in a corner, maybe even under the bed, the girl surprises me when I find her pressed against the glass doors, looking outside. A flash of lightning reveals her silhouette. She turns to look at me when she hears my footsteps behind her. I can see the slight tremble in her body, but she stands tall facing the wrath of the storm on the other side of the glass.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods and turns to face the ocean again. Each boom and crack in the sky makes her flinch, but she doesn’t back away. The rain slams against the window so loud it sounds more like pebbles than water.
We have a generator for power outages, but I don’t know if anyone will venture out in this weather to turn it on. Outside, Mother Nature doesn’t seem like she will let up anytime soon.
“Are you scared?” I whisper in her ear as I stand behind her.
I’m not sure if I’m asking about the storm or not.
She shakes her head, taking one step back and almost closing the gap between our bodies. That pull I always feel when I’m near her is there. My hand misses the feel of her skin. I had her pinned underneath me earlier. A position I should have never had her in. I told myself I was just trying to control her and keep her from hurting herself. I know that wasn’t the reason I pinned her small body under mine. I liked the feeling of my hand on her throat. I read her breathing, her heartbeat, and the flutter of her eyelids. I could feel the words of anger and hate pouring out of her. It’s a connection I’m craving now. I’m just about to reach out to touch her when footsteps pound up the stairs. The only two rooms on this floor are our bedrooms, so every hair on my body stands on end and alert.
Was I wrong to think the storm knocked out the power?
Did Seamus share more than the Miami penthouse location? If the power is out, the alarm and cameras are down. I’m unarmed and unprepared.
The steps slow to stop outside the door, but I’m already there, back pressed against the wall as I wait for them to open it. I look over and Shiloh is on the other side. I didn’t even hear her moving. We both hold our breath and watch the knob.
The door opens and a shadow walks through. I’m quick to grab him and put him in a headlock. Shiloh pulls something from her hair, pointing it in his face while I hold him immobile.
“Shit. It’s just me,” I hear. “Alonzo.”
The fight leaves my body, and I release my guard. Shiloh drops her hand and sighs loudly.
“What the hell are you doing up here?” I growl.
“I came to check on Shiloh. I didn’t think you would be in here.”
“Well I am.” It will be the talk of the house now. Most of the staff already think she’s a hooker that I bought in Vegas.
The three of us stand silent in the dark. Alonzo shifts on his feet uncomfortably.
“Well, if you’re okay, I’ll be going now,” he finally says.
“We’re good.”
He looks to Shiloh first, only leaving when he sees her nod in a flash of lightning. I watch as he closes the door behind him and listen for his steps as he heads back downstairs.
I turn on the flashlight on my phone to see what Shiloh has in her hands.
“A pen? You were going to stab him with a ballpoint pen?”
She shrugs then pulls her hair back up in a bun, sticking the pen in it. It’s a multipurpose tool, I notice. She’s quick to think and act. Used with enough force and in the right spot, she could have killed him.
“We would make a good team,” I muse. “We could have taken him if he was a real enemy.”
Shiloh walks back to the windows. Even her light footsteps are silent. I wonder why Alonzo came to check on her. I didn’t ask him to watch over her. None of the staff comes upstairs unless absolutely needed. Everyone else seems burdened with my guest.
“Did Alonzo talk to you when he came to fix the rods?”
I see her nod. I feel an inkling of resentment. Maybe jealousy.
I’m supposed to be the one that cares for her. It’s me that protects her and saves her from the monsters she’s running from. Not him. She needs to cling to me, look to me. Otherwise, where does her loyalty lie?
Another crack of thunder vibrates the house. Shiloh jumps slightly but doesn’t shrink away. She continues to face the raging storm as it comes at her in full force.
I walk up behind and spin her to face me. I can’t see her face in the darkness. I can’t read her wide, blue, expressive eyes. I can’t see all the words she can’t say when we are surrounded by darkness.
“Do you like him?” I ask. I don’t know why it matters but it does.
I can’t see her nod or shake her head, so I place my fingers over her lips. They pucker under my hand as she mouths “No.” They feel warm and full against my skin.
“Did you have a boyfriend back home, Shiloh?”
Her lips spread in a “yes.” I don’t like the way that feels on my hand.
“Is he why you ran? Did he hurt you?”
I can take care of an abusive boyfriend easily, but I feel the pucker of her lips.
I don’t bother asking what she’s running from then, because she won’t tell me. Another flash shows her staring up at my face. There is so much I don’t know about her.
I do know she is strong and smart. She watches more than she acts.
“How old are you?” I ask.
I feel her hands move to touch me. She presses two fingers from one hand and one from the other into my chest.
Twenty-one. She looks younger but acts older. Only five years younger than I am. At her age, I was taking on major business transactions for the family. I was paying off cops and politicians.
She leaves her hands on my chest. Warmth soaks through my shirt to my skin. I place a hand on her lower back, wishing I could see her eyes and know what she’s thinking.
There’s a connection between us I can’t explain. I have a compulsive need to protect her and keep her near. For reasons unknown. My instincts call for me to keep her safe despite every reason to cast her aside.
I pull her body closer until she’s flush against mine. Tilting my face toward hers, I lean forward. My ear is near her mouth, and I can hear her soft breathing. I wonder what she sounds like when she pants.
The thunder outside competes with the sound of her heart beating. It’s steady and strong. My lips brush her ear as I inhale her scent. She smells like the sea and coconut.
I glide one hand up her spine until the ends of her long hair brush my knuckles. My other hand is still on her face, and I graze my thumb over her bottom lip. A stuttered breath leaves her lips and trails over my fingers. She’s feeling what I’m feeling. This fascination and obsession. I pull back slightly, running my lips against her jawline. Her fingers spread and push into my chest with more force.
Just as I wish I could see her eyes, the lights come on. The safety of the darkness is chased away, thrusting us back into a harsh reality. A reality where I know nothing about this girl except her connection to the very people that want me dead. I don’t know where her loyalty will lie if it’s every really tested. She’s a wild card in my life.
She could be my greatest enemy or strongest ally.
Shiloh blinks as she adjust to the sudden brightness, and I slowly let her go. Whatever just happened was extinguished with the light. We take a step apart, and Shiloh looks everywhere but directly in my eyes.
“I should go,” I tell her. Now that the power is back, there is no reason for me to be here.
I turn to leave but Shiloh reaches out and grabs my hand. As I turn to face her, she pulls the pen from her hair. Unruly blond hair falls over her shoulder and down her back. She places the tip to my palm where the faint ink of her name can still be seen.
Stay.
She looks up at me, and I can’t help but nod. She turns off the lamp, throwing us in darkness once again, and sits on the floor, leaning against the bed. I sit next to her, and we stare out the windows at the rain until she falls asleep sitting up.
chapter twelve
shiloh
THE STORM CONTINUES for three days. Being trapped inside the house all day was going to drive me mad. I had too much of that to last a lifetime.
Pierce didn’t come to check on me again during the high winds and hail. I don’t know if it was because he didn’t trust me, or if he didn’t trust himself. After the first night, I woke up in my own bed after falling asleep on the floor next to him. He has been avoiding me since then.
We crossed an invisible line he drew the moment he saw me. He touched me like he wanted me. His lips tickled my skin, and I could feel how turned on he was. I thought he was going to kiss me. I never realized how much I wanted that until he pulled away from me.
Basorexia (n.) the overwhelming desire to kiss.
But as soon as the lights came on, he snapped to his senses. I tried not to let his regret sting but it did.
“Are you reading the dictionary?”
I look up from the couch to find Pierce watching me. When we had power, he was locked away in his office, working. I didn’t expect to see him at all today as the storm weakened and passed over us.
I nod and look back down at the book.
“Here.”
I take an iPhone from his outstretched hand, staring down at it in confusion. Who would I call when I can’t speak?
“Only my number is programmed in that phone, and you will use to text me and only me,” he answers my unspoken questions.
I open the message app and text the only contact I have.
Shiloh: Thank you.
Pierce pulls out his phone and reads the message.
“No social media. No emails. Do not make me regret this.”
So the same rules I had
at home. Our computers were constantly monitored. I’m sure this phone will be as well.
“Why are you reading that? I have books in my office,” Pierce says.
I pull out the phone and respond to his question.
Shiloh: I like words. Memorizing them and their meanings.
He stares at me for a moment like I’ve grown another head. I was never around people enough to know what normal, but I do know this is an odd thing to do. My sisters don’t do it. They played with dolls and read magazines. I was always bored. Bored with my tutors and their lessons. Bored with life inside the same four walls for twenty-one years. I used my time to read and study. I learned every word I could, no matter how impractical it was. The more useless and outrageous, the better. I taught myself three other languages.
Ironic that I can’t even speak one language anymore.
“You are very interesting,” he says, a smirk on his face.
He looks like he’s about to say more, but the phone in his hand starts to ring. I wave to him as he answers and leaves the room.
I look down at the phone in my hands. I spend the afternoon browsing the news. I don’t know what I expected to find. An article about the missing daughter of the rich and powerful Marcus Blackard? I don’t exist in that world to be missing from it. Maybe I expected my father to break his rule if it meant finding me. I hover my finger over the keyboard.
I want so badly to search my family name but if anyone saw the history, they would be able to put it together. I have to assume Pierce will be checking the history.
Was anyone looking for me?
A few hours later and I find nothing about a missing girl in Nevada or any mention of my father. I feel betrayed and forgotten.
The phone warns me the battery is getting low. I never got a charger from Pierce. I text him to ask for one, but he doesn’t answer. Eventually I decide to go ask him.
What good is having a phone when he doesn’t respond? It’s about as useless as my words.
I knock on the door to his office. It’s silent for so long that I almost turn away to look elsewhere.
“Come in.”
Pierce is facing the windows when I walk inside. When the door closes behind me, he spins and faces me. His shirt is unbuttoned with his tie hanging undone around his neck. Dark hair sticks up in different directions on his head and his dark eyes look wild.
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