Beneath These Scars

by Meghan March

  As I pushed open the door, I was pretty certain I heard her whisper, “What the fuck is a conservatory, and why the hell does he need one?”

  A smile curled along my lips at that little gem.

  “HOLY SHIT,” I MUTTERED AS I grabbed another towel and dried my hair. “Lucas Goddamn Titan. No fucking way.”

  And what the hell did I just do? I’d grabbed the man’s dick.

  Granted, he’d forced me to. Well, he hadn’t exactly taken my hand and wrapped it around the biggest cock I’d ever encountered—based on the sheer feel of it—but he’d taunted me. Challenged me.

  I wasn’t the kind of woman who would back down from a challenge anymore. And certainly not from a rich asshole like Titan. No, men like him understood one thing and one thing only—power and sheer defiance of it.

  I still couldn’t believe I hadn’t put it together. How could Titan be Levi’s brother? They didn’t share a last name—because as Titan had said, Levi didn’t have one. I’d thought he was crazy when he’d handed me his ID for his employment paperwork, but I didn’t ask questions because . . . well, this was New Orleans, and he wouldn’t be my first employee to be in a unique situation. Now that I was looking for it, I could see the resemblance between them. Even though Levi didn’t have the height or the solid build quite yet, he had the same black hair, albeit shaggy, and green eyes.

  I tried to wrap my mind around this entire thing while I squeezed the water out of my hair. I really needed a shower first, but I wasn’t about to risk taking that kind of time. The master of the house might notice and find me naked and wet. Again.

  Good Lord. That man . . .

  I should have wanted to claw his hand off when he touched me, but . . . I hadn’t. Clearly, I was traumatized from earlier or something, because my reaction defied explanation. When his dark green eyes had speared me, I’d almost arched into his touch like a cat in heat.

  It was a mistake. A crazy reaction. I didn’t want him.

  He was rich. Arrogant. Entitled. Most likely to try to crush me into a pliable shadow of myself. Screw that. But in a corner of my mind, I knew the truth. I wanted to screw him.

  No, Yve. You know better.

  Self-loathing was a horrible thing, so I shoved the thoughts aside. I didn’t want him. Wouldn’t want him. I hated him and everything he stood for. I’d stare him down again, and this time, I would do it with my pride intact.

  I spotted several fluffy white hotel robes hanging from hooks on the wall, which would have been really nice to notice before. Damn it. I grabbed one and slipped it on before sliding into my flip-flops and heading for the door. I was leaving what had happened a few minutes ago in that room and I would never think about it again. I’d also strike the dick-grabbing move from my list of knee-jerk reactions to being challenged.

  As I reached for the door handle, I looked down at the palm of my hand like it was going to explain to me why it jumped out and grabbed Lucas Titan’s junk.

  Shake. It. Off. Yve. Squaring my shoulders, I headed in the direction of the library. At least I knew where it was. I’d drooled over it almost immediately upon entering the house. It was something out of Beauty and the Beast, and now that I knew who owned the house, that comparison seemed a lot more fitting.

  I paused near the stairs. Meeting Lucas Titan in a bathrobe was not a good idea. I hated that I’d be at a disadvantage. This kind of conversation would be easier to have in my sassiest red dress and tallest fuck-me heels—an outfit that packed a double shot of confidence to face down his arrogant self.

  Not like when I ran from him at the corner instead of letting him see me to my house.

  But even after I’d done that, he’d still arranged for my car to be repaired.

  Titan was a damn puzzle. And I didn’t have time to solve the path through his twisty brain these days.

  Instead, I squared my shoulders and followed a hallway in the direction I assumed was east. Soon I passed the library and another set of glass doors that led into what would definitely be another of my favorite rooms of the house. With all glass walls and a vaulted glass roof, it held a couple of comfortable-looking sofas and a long, narrow table with several fancy bottles filled with amber liquid. As I approached, Titan stood pouring what I assumed was some kind of expensive booze into two glasses.

  “You drink Scotch?” he asked without looking up.

  “Apparently I do now,” I replied.

  That answer got his attention.

  His sharp gaze landed on my face before dropping to my feet and climbing up my body. Once again, I felt him everywhere his stare touched. Beneath the robe, my nipples tightened against my will and better judgment.

  “Yes, you do.”

  “So says the king.” I laughed, but I didn’t move closer to him. My flip-flops seemed rooted to the slate floor.

  “Indeed.” He held the glass out, studying my face intently. “You look like you’re about to make a run for it.”

  “I didn’t expect to find you here. I never would’ve come.”

  A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth and slowly curled into a smug smile. “I can’t say the surprise was unwelcome. In fact, coming home to see a naked woman swimming laps in my pool is something I could easily get used to.”

  “Nice,” I said with a snort. It wasn’t an attractive sound, but I wasn’t worried about impressing this man. “And why don’t I believe this is the first time you’ve walked in on someone naked in your pool? You’ve got money. You aren’t exactly ugly. Women should be dropping their panties at your feet.”

  His eyebrow lifted, the arrogant prick. “Who says they aren’t?”

  “Well, Vanessa Frost sure didn’t.” I lifted an eyebrow back at him, now glad that I’d paid attention when Elle had filled me in on all of the dirty details from Titan’s pursuit of Vanessa.

  Titan’s smile died. “Touché.” He held out a tumbler, but the mood in the room had shifted.

  Was his pride still stinging over that? Huh. Go figure. Men and their fragile little egos. Maybe Titan was human after all.

  I took the glass and crossed to the window, ignoring the eyes that followed me. Outside was a garden arch covered in pale whitish-blue lights. It seemed an odd touch considering two men lived here.

  Titan came up behind me, his reflection setting my nerves on edge once more.

  “What are you doing in my house?” he asked.

  I held his reflected stare, even though my instinct was to drop it. I would not let this man see a single hint of weakness from me. I knew he was the type to exploit any he might detect.

  “I told you I wouldn’t have come if I’d known it was your house.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.” He lifted the tumbler to his lips and sipped.

  I wasn’t too proud to admit to myself that I watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. The man was nothing less than striking with his black hair, perfectly cut and styled in a way that clearly said I don’t have to try to look gorgeous, along with dark green eyes, tanned skin that stretched over sharp cheekbones, and a strong jaw. He would have been nearly perfect if not for the scar slashing through his eyebrow into his hairline. I wondered at the story behind it. Because God knew, all scars seemed to come with a story.

  And of course, I couldn’t forget the huge cock. My cheeks—and other parts of my body—heated against my will. Leave it in the pool room, Yve. Forget that you know how big his dick is.

  Titan raised an eyebrow, the unscarred one. My assessment of him hadn’t gone unnoticed—or my dirty thoughts, it seemed.

  “I had a problem at my place.” I looked away as I said it, flipping a hand as if it weren’t worthy of concern.

  His eyebrow dropped and lines creased his forehead. “What kind of problem?”

  Like I was going to tell Lucas Fucking Titan about the glass in my dish rack that made me flip out. He’d think I was crazy, and maybe I was. All I knew was that something in my gut had told me to get the hell out of that house.


  I listened to my gut, which was probably the only reason I’d ended up in the hospital rather than in a casket the night my ex had come home with a different sort of crazy burning in his eyes. After he’d finished with me, I’d awoken with every inch of my body screaming with pain, and found the house quiet. Something had told me if I were still there when he came back, I wouldn’t live through the night.

  So I’d called Ginny, and she’d called the ambulance. If I hadn’t, the doctors told me my internal injuries would have finished me off before he could. Intuition for the win, I thought.

  I gave myself a mental shake and focused on the present, finally admitting, “I thought maybe someone had broken in.”

  The lines deepened as he scowled. “What did the police say?”

  It was an obvious question, but I felt like a tool giving him the truth. “I didn’t call the police.”

  “Why not?” he demanded.

  “Because I didn’t think there was anything missing.”

  “Then how would you know someone broke in? Was the lock picked? The door broken down?”

  I shook my head and brought my tumbler to my lips, coughing a little when the Scotch hit my tongue.

  “That’s fifty-year-old Scotch; it should be smooth as silk going down.” The words were just as smooth in Titan’s deep voice.

  I swallowed, nodding as the fiery liquor slid down my throat. “It’s not bad. Just not what I expected it to taste like.” I hoped the subject change would stick, but it didn’t.

  “Why didn’t you call the police?”

  I decided to be as honest as I could. “The door was unlocked, and it looked like something had been moved, but there was nothing else to report.”

  I expected him to tell me I probably forgot to lock it, or that I was imagining things, but he didn’t. He turned and I watched his reflection stalk to the side table. I swiveled away from the window to face him as he lifted his phone and tapped on the screen.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Calling Hennessy, a detective at NOPD.”

  “What? No. Don’t do that. It’s fine. I—”

  He must have found the contact he was looking for because he raised the phone to his ear. I strode across the room, not even thinking before I snatched it from him and disconnected the call.

  Titan’s hand shot out and wrapped around my wrist. He plucked the phone from my fingers with his other hand. The quick movement—and his hand getting so damn close to my face—had me flinching away and lifting my arm to shield myself. It was another instinct of mine, and it was a telling one.

  Titan immediately dropped his hold on me and stepped back, his eyes wide and his lips parted. “What the hell, Yve? Did you think I was going to hit you? Jesus, I might be a total dick sometimes, but the only time I’d ever hit a woman is when I’ve got her bent over, ass out, and pussy dripping.” His wounded expression made him seem more human than anything he could have done.

  Mortification rushed over me in hot waves. I backed away, the tumbler sliding through my sweaty palm until I set it down with a clunk on an end table. I flew out of the room and raced down the halls of the huge house, intent on getting the hell out of there. But I didn’t know where to go.

  I should’ve walked out as soon as I knew whose house this was.

  “Yve, wait.”

  Titan’s voice came from behind me. Something in his tone made me freeze in mid-stride. I didn’t turn, but my shoulders hunched forward as if my instincts were screaming at me to protect myself.

  I wasn’t a victim. Not anymore. I was a survivor. And I never wanted to see anyone look at me with pity again. Shoulders back and spine straight, I whirled around to face Titan.

  Concern creased his features, an emotion that looked completely wrong on his arrogant face. I hated it, and the urge to lash out clawed through me.

  “I don’t feel the need to be interrogated by you or some cop. If you don’t want me in your house, I’ll be on my way.”

  “Not until you tell me who hit you.”

  His nostrils flared and his hands were curled into fists, but surprisingly, my fight-or-flight response faded. I didn’t feel threatened anymore. He wasn’t pissed at me, but for me. That was new and different. Still, it didn’t mean I was about to share my pathetic story. Who wanted to admit they’d been beaten and let it keep happening? Or worse, that at the time I’d believed my husband when he’d told me it was my fault.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  Except it did matter if my intuition was right and Jay had been in my apartment. Then it would matter very, very much. The day I’d testified in open court, at the trial that had sent him to prison, he’d sworn he’d never let me go. But then his grandmother had pushed the divorce through as soon as the court would grant it.

  Even I appreciated the irony of the situation, that someone in his family had been the one to set me free from that nightmare forever. I thought about Ginny’s visit to Dirty Dog. The woman who’d helped me then was trying to help me again now, but this time she was trying to help me straight out of town. Did she know something I didn’t? Had she really told me the truth when she’d said she didn’t know when Jay was getting out?

  I’d gotten so caught up in my thoughts that I completely checked out for a few moments. Titan was staring at me, studying me, and as soon as I was conscious of it, I felt the weight of his inspection all the way to my bones.

  “I’d say it matters a whole hell of a lot,” he said finally.

  “And I don’t know why you’d care.”

  “Because something scared you bad enough to run, and I don’t think you scare easily. I may not be a good guy, but I’d fuck up any man who hurt a woman.”

  I snorted. Right. Lucas Titan, billionaire, asshole of the first order, was probably a man who wouldn’t even fetch his own newspaper, let alone go after someone who hurt a woman.

  “You don’t believe me? Do you want me to prove it to you?”

  I outright laughed at this. “Quit, Titan. You don’t need to go ghetto and throw down. I’m fine, and nothing needs proving.”

  He opened his mouth to protest but my stomach growled. Loudly. I expected him to ignore it, but the man continued to surprise me.

  “When did you eat last?”

  I thought back to earlier and all the craziness of the day. “I don’t know. Breakfast, I guess.”

  “Come on. Follow me.” And he walked off down the hall, not even slowing to see if I was coming.

  I guessed in Titan’s world, when the king said “follow me,” he didn’t have to wonder if his orders would be obeyed. My stomach growled again, and that was the only reason I hurried down the hall after him.

  I RARELY WONDERED IF SOMEONE would do what I asked. But with Yve, I was learning quickly that she was more likely to do the exact opposite. In a way, she reminded me of Levi when he was a kid. He was just eight years old when I became his guardian, and the years that followed had been . . . difficult.

  I pushed open the door to the kitchen and flipped on the light. For as little time as I spent in the room, it was surprisingly one of my favorites. Kitchens had always been my refuge as a kid when my father would lose his shit—he’d never set foot in one, as far as I knew—so I could always escape his wrath there.

  Seeing it empty of Jerome, my majordomo, chef, and keeper of all things, was not surprising given it was his night for poker. He’d joined my father’s household when I was sixteen, when my father had first been sent to France as an engineer for a multinational corporation. Jerome had followed us from France to Germany two years later when my father founded his own company. Without Jerome, I wouldn’t have been able to keep Levi from going to a secondary guardian after my father’s death. My mother had passed away before we’d left the United States, taken too fast by an aggressive form of breast cancer.

  Every time I thought about my mother, sadness followed. But every time I thought about my father, I shut down all thought and emotion. I would n
ot think about that day, the one that had ended with him in a body bag and me in the hospital.

  No.

  Jaw set, I crossed to the fridge and yanked it open. Grabbing a container of hummus, I turned and slid it across the counter.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  “Offering to feed a guest in my home?”

  “An unwanted and unwelcome guest in your home,” Yve clarified.

  “A guest who greets me naked is rarely unwanted and unwelcome.”

  “You know what I mean,” she said, her cheeks coloring.

  Fuck. With that blush staining her cheeks, I couldn’t stare at her without recalling how gorgeous she’d looked naked or the feel of her nipple between my fingers. She might not spell her name like the first woman to tempt a man, but that didn’t make her any less of a temptation.

  I wanted her naked again. The robe wasn’t the obstacle, though; it was Yve herself. But she didn’t have to like me to fuck me; she just had to want me more than she hated me.

  Yve kicked this little game into overdrive when she’d wrapped her hand around my cock. I’d watched her pupils dilate. Her nipples had been practically diamond tipped. She wanted me.

  The question was—how badly?

  I crossed to the pantry and pulled out a carton of flatbread. Returning to the kitchen island, I set it next to the hummus. “Eat.”

  Her eyes lifted to mine once more. “Why?”

  “Because you need energy if I’m going to bend you over and fuck you on the counter.”

  Her mouth dropped open and her pupils dilated before rage bloomed in her eyes. “You mother—”

  “Tell me you don’t want it,” I taunted her.

  “Fuck—”

  I cut her off before she could curse me out. “Tell me you’re not thinking about how hard my dick was when it was pressed against your palm, and how much you want it filling you. Tell me, Yve. I dare you.”

  “You—”

  “Have Yve Santos pegged completely.”

  Her golden eyes blazed. “I hate you.”

  I smiled. “But you want me.”