by Trisha Grace
Liam wasn’t sure why he’d locked her in.
He hated it when people couldn’t maintain eye contact, but he was used to that. Apparently, he hated it when people did the opposite, too.
He’d been so focused on observing her reaction that he hadn’t given much thought to how beautiful she was. And she was.
Her wavy light brown hair looked soft and golden in the sunlight. Her skin so clear and bright, while a tinge of pink colored the cheeks of her heart-shaped face. Then there were her eyes, so large and so … kind.
Liam sighed and ran his hand through his hair.
Perhaps he shouldn’t be too harsh on her. Surely she suffered enough with having a coward of a brother like Nigel.
“Not my problem.” He straightened and checked his reddened knuckles. He flexed his hands and focused on the burning pain. You’re not a monster or a freak show. “Ugh.” He slammed his fist against the sandbag again before storming out.
He was on his way back to his bedroom when he heard a loud bang. He sighed. “What now?”
Liam stopped.
Was it Helena? Did she try to run? Was George shooting at her?
“Liam Black! Get out here this instant, you beast!”
Liam tipped his head back and sighed again at Bobby Eolenfeld’s voice. “Perfect. Just perfect.”
Chapter 3
Helena gritted her teeth to stifle a scream as she dropped onto the concrete walkway under the window. She hadn’t thought the distance from the second floor would be too high, but it kind of was.
Maybe she simply wasn’t the adrenaline junkie type.
Neither was she the athletic type.
She’d spent several minutes removing and tying all the bedsheets together so she’d have something long enough to help her down.
It took her way longer to convince herself that it wasn’t an insane idea and she wasn’t going to kill herself. Then she had to test the strength of the sheets to make sure the makeshift rope would support her weight.
What she didn’t realize was the importance of arm strength, something she didn’t have.
Movies made escaping out of a window look way too easy.
Helena was already struggling to keep herself from falling all the way down when the gunshot went off. The moment of distraction was enough to loosen her grip and send her straight down onto the concrete.
Thankfully, she had enough sense of self-preservation to land on her side.
This wasn’t how she’d planned to spend her day.
Helena sat up with a groan and was dusting off her shirt and pale blue jeans when someone grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet.
“What were you thinking?”
She blinked and looked at the tanned old man. Wrinkles were etched deep in his forehead, but his grip was firm and strong. Probably stronger than Helena’s.
“Are you deaf?” he barked and adjusted his grip on the shotgun he was holding.
And clearly as rude as his master. Helena squared her shoulders. “I was just leaving,” she said, as if falling from the window, which still had the white sheets dangling from it, was a perfectly reasonable way to leave the place. “Goodbye now.”
The grip returned to her arm. “I believe you told Master Black that you were staying.”
“I never agreed to him locking me in that room.”
“Not my problem.”
She rolled her eyes, but staggered forward as the old man dragged her along. They entered the house through the back door, and immediately she heard Bobby’s voice. She couldn’t understand what he was saying though he was shouting at the top of his lungs.
George cursed and lengthened his stride, and Helena hurried along. She almost tripped, but sighed with relief when she caught herself in time. Otherwise, the old man would have mopped the floor with her.
“Where is she?” Bobby shouted. “You stupid, ugly beast. What did you do to her?”
“It almost sounds like you care,” she grumbled as they reached the living room.
Immediately, all attention turned to her. The woman who had opened the door for her was standing right by the open door, her watchful eyes taking in the whole situation.
Light streamed in from the front door, revealing the same peeling walls as in the bedroom. There were patches of bare, red bricks mixed in with various layers of plaster and yellowish paint.
A black leather sofa and a gray lazy-boy chair looked new and completely out of place among the other broken wooden furniture.
Master Black was nowhere to be seen, which she supposed was a good thing.
Bobby was in his typical morning get-up, a crumpled shirt and pants that had gone through whatever he had been up to last night. His blond hair was messy and the whites of his blue eyes bloodshot.
“Let go of her,” Bobby and Master Black said at the same time.
That was when Helena realized he was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down from the second floor.
“You shot at her?” Master Black asked, his tone deadly calm.
“He shot at me, you idiot.” Bobby strode forward and shoved George. “You may be working here, but I’m the Eolenfeld.”
“Bobby.” Helena stepped forward and grabbed Bobby’s arm. “Stop it. What are you doing?” George might be strong, but he was still an old man.
“He shot at me.”
“He probably wasn’t aiming at you,” Helena said.
“Oh, I was.” The old man set the shotgun aside. “I didn’t know it was you, Master Eolenfeld. My eyes aren’t as good as they were.”
“You—”
Helena slapped a hand on Bobby’s chest to stop him from advancing toward George. “Enough.”
Bobby glared down at her.
“Enough,” she repeated, softer this time.
Bobby’s eyes roamed across her face. “Did the beast hurt you?”
Helena had wanted to pour out her frustration on him. Why had he sent Nigel here? What idiotic deal had he made with Nigel? What kind of trouble had he gotten Nigel into now?
But the sincerity in his gaze and the concern in his voice gave her pause.
Bobby Eolenfeld never cared much for anyone else. He was an Eolenfeld. He had an inheritance vast enough to buy nations. Whatever problems he had, he solved it with money. He was spoiled, entitled, and obnoxious.
His money got him the best treatment and kept him out of trouble in spite of his attitude. In front of others, he was loud. He liked behaving as if he was the alpha of the group. He enjoyed having minions around him that he could order around.
Then there was this Bobby.
A side he never showed anyone else. A Bobby who was more than the money and the parties. “Helena.” He gripped her shoulders, and she winced. “What happened? Did the beast hit you?”
She tutted. “Stop calling him that. And no, he didn’t hurt me.”
“Then how did you get hurt?”
Helena pulled away from Bobby’s grasp. She had known Bobby since she was a child. She’d grown up in the same neighborhood as the Eolenfelds until her father’s business collapsed and they had to move away. In spite of that, Bobby had remained in her life—not always in a good way.
In fact, Bobby mostly brought trouble to her life.
He and Nigel would take turns coming up with silly schemes, and others would always join in with great enthusiasm. Then when they got into trouble, she would have to clean up their messes.
Not the financial part. Bobby usually had that covered. But everything else? That was up to Helena.
Just like now.
Helena sighed. No matter how sincere he sounded, no matter how huge a debt of gratitude she owed him, Helena couldn’t allow herself to forget that she was here only because Bobby had sent Nigel here. “Because of you, you idiot.”
Bobby frowned.
“Why did you send Nigel here? Why did you make him promise to stay? You know his … condition.”
“I wasn’t expecting it to rain. I thought it wou
ld only be a couple of days.”
“And when it did rain? You knew he wouldn’t be okay. Why didn’t you do something?”
“You hate it when I help him, then you get angry with me when I don’t. I can’t do anything right by you.”
“You’re not helping him by buying him drugs.”
“It helps him forget!”
“You’re enabling him!” She stepped back and drew a breath through her nose. Her conversations with Bobby often ended in shouting matches, especially when they revolved around his and Nigel’s drug habits. She wasn’t interested in doing that today. “I just want to know what’s the deal you made with Nigel.”
Liam stayed at the top of the stairs as he watched the scene unfold, which surprisingly took way more effort than it should.
When he saw George dragging Helena into the house, he’d almost stormed down the stairs to make George let her go. Even next to the old man, she appeared so tiny, so breakable.
That was why he’d stopped her from pounding on the door to get to Nigel. He couldn’t help himself, which was ridiculous.
If his band of illegitimate half-brothers were here, they would have thought he had lost his mind.
Right now, Liam sure felt like he was going insane.
He had just taken a step toward the stairs when Bobby’s tone changed. Either he was a great actor, or it was undeniable that he cared about Helena.
Liam had thought—from the way Helena reacted to Bobby’s name—that she hated Bobby.
Clearly, Liam was wrong. Those two were obviously together.
He shouldn’t be so surprised. Who wouldn’t want to be associated with the heir to the Eolenfeld fortune?
“What happened?” Bobby’s gaze flitted up toward him. “Did the beast hit you?”
“Stop calling him that. And no, he didn’t hurt me.”
Liam frowned at Helena’s back. Had she just defended him? Why? Pity, that’s why, his mother’s voice echoed in his head.
Helena must have felt bad for the monster that he was, and Liam didn’t need that. He didn’t hear any more of her conversation with Bobby. He just wanted them out.
He strode down the stairs, intending to throw them out of the house. But when he came up behind Helena, he blurted, “You gave me your word.”
He didn’t know where those words came from. He hadn’t intended to say them aloud. Yes, he wondered how she got out of the room. He couldn’t understand why she did that. She’d told him she would stay, so why was she out?
But none of that mattered. It shouldn’t. Helena was associated with Bobby Eolenfeld. She couldn’t be trusted.
Helena turned to him. “What?”
“You gave me your word that you’d stay.” He hated the undertone of hurt that colored his words. He hated how weak he sounded.
He’d learned long ago that people couldn’t be trusted. At twenty-eight, he could count the number of people he truly trusted on one hand.
“You weren’t supposed to lock me up,” she said. “You didn’t lock Nigel up. How did you expect me to react?”
“You locked her up?” Bobby stepped forward. “You sick, disgusting beast.” He scowled and nodded. “There was no way anyone would stay with you otherwise, right? Even your mother couldn’t stand to look at you. Your mother would rather drink herself to death than live with you.”
Liam clenched his fists.
“Bobby.” Helena pressed her hand against Bobby’s chest and pushed him back. “Cut it out.”
Liam stared at her hand, and he itched to separate it from Bobby.
Bobby sent a scathing glance his way. “You don’t have to feel bad for him, babe.”
So Helena was Bobby’s girlfriend.
Helena was just like every other woman associated with the Eolenfeld. She wasn’t the brave woman who had a heart big enough to love a coward of a brother. That was just a fantasy he’d built in his head.
“Just stop it, okay?” Helena said.
Then why is she trying to defend me? Liam almost laughed at his ludicrous thought. Of course she isn’t doing that. No one ever did. No one would.
As much as he hated Bobby, his half-brother wasn’t wrong. Even Liam’s own mother couldn’t stand being with him.
He was just the beast—cast aside and abandoned by everyone.
Bobby took Helena’s hand, a gesture so casual it irked Liam.
“Let’s get out of here,” Bobby said.
Maybe Liam was just being competitive with the man who took everything from him, but he was so tempted to pry Bobby’s hand away from Helena’s.
He didn’t have to, though. Helena pulled her hand out of Bobby’s, but she didn’t immediately reject Bobby’s suggestion.
“You gave me your word,” Liam said before he could stop himself. “You’re supposed to stay in place of your brother.”
He wasn’t sure why he cared. Bobby would probably just send Nigel or another of his minions back. It didn’t matter which idiot came.
But apparently it did. He wanted Helena to stay.
Why? Liam wasn’t sure.
Helena licked her lips and turned to Bobby.
Liam twisted his jaw to the side, frustrated that she couldn’t seem to make up her mind. He was about to tell her to get lost when she said, “Why did you send Nigel here, anyway? What did you want him to do?”
“This is Eolenfeld property.”
Helena’s brows drew together. “And he” —she cocked her head toward Liam— “is an Eolenfeld.”
“He is not.” “I am not.”
The line between Helena’s brows deepened.
There. Liam had made it clear. He wasn’t an Eolenfeld. Not officially. His mother was one of Frederick Eolenfeld’s many mistresses. He was an illegitimate child and wouldn’t get a cent of the Eolenfeld fortune.
Edward Eolenfeld, Bobby’s grandfather and the one holding the vast fortune, had made that clear a long time ago.
Not that Liam needed a cent. He had his own money. Money he made on his own. Unlike all the useless descendants bearing the Eolenfeld name.
“So?” Helena asked.
So? With one simple word, Helena drew all of Liam’s attention back to herself.
“I wanted Nigel to take an inventory of everything in the mansion. All this will be mine when the old man dies.”
“Your grandfather told you that?”
Frederick Eolenfeld had passed away over five years ago. Bobby was the eldest grandson. The first in line to inherit the billions.
“He doesn’t have to.” Bobby smirked. “And when everything comes to me,” he jabbed a finger in Liam’s direction, “you’re out.”
Helena’s brows puckered. “Out?”
“Yes.” Bobby stepped forward, wagging the finger at him. “First thing I’m going to do is throw you out of this place. Don’t even think about taking anything valuable from here. You’re not getting a thing.”
Liam moved forward, ready to break that finger.
“You’ll have more than enough money to spend for the rest of your life. Why do you want this …” Helena scanned the living room.
It had been a while since Liam paid any attention to his surroundings. He could see well in the dark; he’d grown up in it, after all. But he hadn’t cared about how dilapidated and broken everything was around him. He’d tuned all of that out, since he spent most of his time on the third floor, where he had refurnished three of the rooms as his bedroom, home office, and gym.
He immediately felt embarrassed about his surroundings.
It was an odd feeling, something he hadn’t felt for a long time. Lacking. Not good enough. Those judgments had been his constant companions while he was growing up, but they had given way to a seething rage that led to the further destruction of everything still standing in the mansion.
“Crumbling place,” Helena said softly, as if she was afraid to hurt his feelings.
Her soft voice drew his attention like nothing else ever had.
Liam was i
magining things. Why would Helena care about his feelings? Perhaps she truly was defending him earlier. But why?
Bobby shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t want it. I don’t care if this place is razed to the ground. I just want him out. I want him on the streets without a cent.”
Bobby had always hated him, and he had made that clear. He had made it so clear that Liam could see it every time he looked in the mirror.
“I want—”
“Bobby.” Helena stuck her hands on her hips. “What’s your problem? Is having everything not enough? Why do you need to take away what he has?”
Liam blinked. Helena was standing up for him. Why?
Bobby glared at Helena. “Why are you never on my side?”
“Why are you always on the wrong side of things?”
Bobby grabbed her chin and jerked her forward, causing Helena to gasp.
Her eyes widened in shock, and Liam reacted.
One of his hands shot out against Bobby’s chest while the other wrapped itself gently around Helena’s slender wrist.
The impact of his hand made Bobby release Helena, and Liam pulled her behind him. “Don’t touch her.” He was never letting anyone else touch her again.
Bobby’s gaze dropped to Liam’s hand on her wrist. “And you can?” He puffed out his chest, then laughed dryly as he shook his head. “Aww,” he said in a condescending tone. “Has the beast fallen in love?”
“Cut it out, Bobby,” Helena said.
“So you’re choosing the beast over me.” Bobby nodded slowly. “This beast won’t be getting a single cent, Miss Nose-in-books.”
“One: don’t call me that. Two: he has a name.” Helena’s free hand, the one that wasn’t held captive by Liam’s, returned to her hip. “And thanks for making me sound like all the gold-diggers around you.”
“I—”
Helena cut Bobby off, but Liam didn’t hear it.
He remained standing with his gaze trained on Bobby, but he wasn’t seeing or hearing anything. His focus was only on one thing—Helena’s hand and the fact that she hadn’t flinched away from his touch.
This was after she’d seen his face—not just a glimpse of it in the dark. She had seen his face in the light. She knew how monstrous he looked.
