“No. I didn’t plan to marry you…”
Trevor’s deep voice drew her eyes to him.
“My plan was to get you naked, spread your legs wide and feast on your sweet sex until you became hoarse with ecstasy…” He leaned forward over his knees. “Then bury myself so deep inside you I could feel your heart beat.”
Tiffany squeezed her thighs tight, feeling her womanhood begin to swell and pulse at his words. Her hands started to tremble, and a bead of sweat trickled between her breasts. Her body betrayed her, even though she knew he had plotted to have sex with her out of revenge. “The kitchen,” was all she could say.
Trevor continued. “I was going to use you the way Manning had used Rebecca and tossed her aside. I was going to one up him by sleeping with his future wife and letting him know it.”
“So I was going to become your victim? Your revenge? All because Manning slept with Rebecca and was responsible for her death? Well, you got just what you wanted and then some…but the joke’s on you.” Angry and frustrated, Tiffany stood up, then sat down again, then rose again and walked over to the window, snatched the curtain open and stared out into the night. She was confused and hurt, and tears began to run out of her eyes unchecked. Tiffany’s throat tightened and her voice wavered. “I’m sorry she died. I’m sorry Christopher is a royal jackass. I’m sorry you lost your love. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorrrry,” Tiffany said weakly as her legs gave out. She’d wanted to hear it all and was miserable now that she had.
Instead of feeling the impact of the floor, Tiffany found herself cradled in Trevor’s arms.
He sat on the carpet embracing and rocking her. She didn’t want comfort. She didn’t want to fall prey to his hold. Succumb to his touch. Tiffany began slamming her fists into Trevor’s chest and shoulders, not caring where her blows landed. She just wanted to hurt him. To make him experience the pain she felt, in any way.
“Tiffany, honey.” Trevor grabbed her violating fists and held them tight. “Listen to me.”
She jerked and attempted to snatch her hands from his grasp. “No,” she growled, as she propelled her body away from him. “I’ve listened long enough.”
Tiffany stood, with violence in her eyes, attempting to pierce Trevor to his very soul.
“I’m tired, Trevor.” She used the back of a hand to swipe the remainder of the tears from her eyes. No more tears. No more crying. No more being stepped on by men.
Trevor rose slowly from the floor. “Tiffany, I know—”
“You know nothing.” Tiffany spoke through gritted teeth. “Damn it, I’m tired of all the well meaning men in my life. Treating me like I can’t think for my damn self. Trying to control my life to suit their purpose.” Tiffany’s hands flailed around her body. “My dad. Christopher.
Now you.”
“Baby—”
Tiffany threw up her hands in his face to ward off anything Trevor wanted to say. “Don’t you dare, baby, sweetie, sugar-pie or honey me,” Tiffany barked out, as she backed away from him. The urge to strangle him or pick up a chair and bash him across the skull was too overpowering to resist.
“I love you. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“No.” Tiffany continued to back away from him. “Not right now. The only thing I want from you now is for you to get out.” She wanted to run, to escape the horrid nightmare that had somehow trapped her inside.
Trevor stalked after her.
“Don’t.” She held her hand firm and steady as she put her palm up to stop his progress.
“We need to talk,” he pleaded.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “No, we don’t. I don’t want to talk to you right now.
I don’t want to see your face. I don’t want to stand in the same room with you, let alone breathe the same air.”
Trevor didn’t move or speak. He just looked at her with his toffee colored brown eyes.
Those eyes that even now jeopardized her anger, but she wasn’t going to allow it. Tiffany used everything within her to shield herself and harden her heart. “Get out. Get out. Get out,” Tiffany snapped. She charged toward him and slammed into his impermeable body. He was like a wall, not to be budged.
Initially, he did nothing to stop her tirade. Then he grabbed her shoulders in a firm hold and looked at her, his face full of regret.
Tiffany’s voice was rough. It crackled from overuse. “You made me believe you were different. Someone who was supposed to care about my happiness. About me.” Twisting away from him, she pointed toward the door. “Get the hell out of my damn house, Trevor,” she said, each word filled with hurt, pain, anger and disappointment.
He closed his eyes and hung his head for a moment. She saw his chest expand as he took a deep breath. Then with one last glance at her, he turned and walked out of the front door. Out of her house. Out of her life.
Tiffany wanted, needed to scream. But like she had told Trevor, she was tired and emotionally drained. She walked over to the door and double bolted it. Without stopping to turn off the lights, she walked up the stairs toward the darkness and her bed. Like Scarlet O’Hara, she would think about it all tomorrow.
Sixteen
Trevor closed the door behind himself and stood there. His breathing became laborious, and his chest tightened to the point of pain, as if a heart attack was pending. “I should be so lucky.” Trevor closed his eyes for a moment. Anything would be better than life without Tiffany.
He’d believed if he were able to sit and talk to her, he would be able to make her understand. But he had been wrong. Everything within him wanted to turn around, open the door and hold her until she forgave him. But he knew it was too late. It was over. “You’ve really messed things up, ole boy.”
He did the inevitable and stepped away from the door.
Click, snap!
Trevor stopped. The sound of the dead bolt locking into place let him know loud and clear that any further discussion with Tiffany that night was out of the question. She’d barred him from her life. Trevor sent up a prayer that it wasn’t a permanent position for him.
As if carrying twenty linebackers on his shoulders, he continued his progression to his car. Guilt. It was a terrible thing to experience. Even worse, to know your trial was just for the moral crime committed.
He got in his car, sat behind the wheel and stared at the house. Lifeless. He couldn’t bring himself to start the engine. He knew if he drove away this might mark the last time he would be welcomed back.
Everything in him confirmed the truth; he’d lost Tiffany. Too many lies. Too many secrets. Trailed by a confession that came too late. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he made a decision about what he had to do. Make things right.
With a parting look at the house and toward Tiffany’s darkened bedroom, he knew she was lying in there hurting. He started his car. With a heavy heart of despair, he drove away.
There would be no secret entry for him tonight.
~ML~
“I need to speak with the governor,” Trevor said to the butler at the Governor’s Mansion.
“Do you know what time it is, sir?” The older, silver-haired, white gentleman’s pasty peach skin flushed red with shock.
Trevor looked down at his watch. “Twelve thirty-one and eleven, twelve, thirteen seconds.”
Trevor didn’t know if being a smart aleck would help him gain access to the house, but at this point, there wasn’t much more he could lose. He looked past the older man’s shoulder and saw the plain clothed guard in black jeans and a button down shirt standing at the base of the steps with a gun ready and available on his hip.
“Your name, sir?”
“Trevor Wayne.”
“One moment please, sir,” the butler said, then closed the door firmly in his face.
The door was thick and soundless. Trevor could only guess what was happening on the other side.
He was amazed how calm and relaxed he felt even though his relationship and possibly his company wou
ld be ruined by the time the sun rose. After ten minutes of staring at the door, Trevor sat on the first step and looked out toward the street. His car was parked out front. A state trooper had already driven by twice. He was sure his license had been run, and if the governor didn’t grant him entrance, he would likely be arrested for trespassing and his car towed.
“Mr. Wayne.”
Trevor turned around at the sound of his name. Instead of the butler whom he expected, it was Wallace, Governor Selina’s right hand man. Trevor stood and stepped up, bringing himself on a direct eye level with the formidable man.
Wallace had to be at least six-two, with shoulders that spanned six hands across. He was supposed to be the governor’s aid, but he could easily pass for his personal bodyguard, or an undercover hit man. Trevor just hoped that, when everything came out, he wouldn’t fall on Wallace’s bad side.
“The governor will see you. He is in his office.” The intense mountain stepped aside and allowed Trevor to enter. “I’ll show you the way.”
Trevor didn’t comment, but he nodded and followed the other man through the house.
“This better be important, Wayne.” The gravely tone of the governor’s words signaled Trevor to his location in the room.
The governor wasn’t behind his desk where Trevor expected him, but instead was seated in one of two wingback chairs positioned in front of the fireplace. The embers crackled in the hearth as the governor sat dressed in a thick burgundy robe, which covered his striped pajamas.
His legs were crossed at the knee, and black house shoes graced his feet.
Trevor heard the sharp sound of the door closing behind him, sealing his fate. “It is, sir. Otherwise, I would’ve chosen a more appropriate time.”
“Humph.” Douglas Selina looked at him; one eyebrow held a slight arch, and his lips rolled inward as concern etched his features. “Have a seat, Trevor. I prefer not to have a crook in my neck tomorrow as well as being exhausted.”
Taking the empty chair, Trevor rested his body on the comfortable cushions with a heavy sigh. He took a moment and focused on his own fingers, bridged across his abdomen. This is it.
“It must be heavy. You look like you’re holding the weight of the world, or expecting your hands to walk away.”
Trevor looked up and met his father-in-law’s gaze. “I’ve been seeing your daughter behind your back.”
Selina’s eyebrows lifted high on his forehead, and his eyes filled with question. “Are you here to ask for her hand?” he asked sarcastically.
“No. It’s a little late for that,” Trevor admitted.
He caught the subtle flinch of the governor’s shoulder.
“Is she pregnant?” asked the governor, like the calm before a deadly storm.
Trevor’s body tensed up on full alert. He was no fool. The governor might appear to be taking the information in stride, but he was Mr. Selina first, with a daughter named Tiffany.
Any given moment the governor could decide to pounce, pummeling him with his fist. And Trevor wouldn’t fight back, not Tiffany’s father.
“No. We were married months ago.”
“What!” Selina roared, his raised foot hitting the floor. He looked ready to vault from his chair.
“Sir, you may want to hear the rest before Wallace comes tearing in here to throw me out.” Trevor braced himself. “Or worse,” he mumbled the last part under his breath.
Selina leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. “I’m listening. You had better make it quick, Wayne. While you’re talking, make sure you give me a good reason why I shouldn’t risk jail by wrapping my hands around your throat and choking the hell out of you,”
Selina growled.
Suddenly, Trevor knew what it would be like for a zebra trapped in the sight of a hungry lion. He imagined the zebra would feel the cool chill of its last breath as it slid into its nostrils, moments before the lion pounced.
Trevor looked Selina straight in his eyes. “I love her.”
That admittance seemed to calm the beast—slightly.
Selina leaned back in the chair and angled his head from one side to the other, as if attempting to crack it or release pent up tension.
“Tell me, Wayne. What do you know about love?”
Trevor looked at this man, his father in-law. “I can do better than that. I can tell you everything.”
Selina held up a single finger. “Before you start, answer this. Did you submit your company’s package, before or after you contacted my daughter?”
“Before.”
“You won the contract.” Tiffany’s father eyed him for a moment. “Was Tiffany your backup plan?”
“No. I never intended to use my connections with her.”
Trevor didn’t know whether he convinced the older man or not. He took the nod Selina gave him as a sign for him to begin his explanation. Trevor took a deep breath and watched as Selina’s face appeared set in stone, carved out with ire. Selina’s eyebrows pinched in a frown as Trevor dissipated the pure image of Christopher Manning for the second time that night.
Selina released a heavy sigh. He rubbed his hands across his face and hair, brisk and hard. Dissatisfaction resounded in the room around the older man. “I’d heard some things about him, but nothing could ever be corroborated. Besides, Christopher has made it no secret that he wants to marry my daughter.” Selina rose and walked over to the side bar.
He opened up a canister, began to dump several heaping spoonfuls of coffee in the filtered top and pushed the coffee makers ON button. He opened the bottom cabinet, leaned over and took out two mugs.
The machine began to hum. Rich and robust, the scent of fresh brewed coffee permeated the air within minutes.
Trevor leaned forward, placed his forearms on his knees and glanced across the carpeted floor at Tiffany’s father.
“Is that what you want, for her to marry Manning?” Cautious, Trevor watched as if the tip of a blade hovered mere inches away from his heart, awaiting Selina’s response in order to plunge forward.
“No. However, I still have a decision to make.” His features were composed, revealing nothing.
“On what?” Trevor tried to stay calm, cool and collected, emulating the other man. But it was no use. What this man thought of him was important. Very important.
Selina didn’t mince words. “The outcome of this.”
Trevor nodded his understanding.
The coffee stopped percolating. Selina poured two cups and returned to the seating area and handed Trevor a cup.
Trevor grabbed the hot mug in his hand. He sipped, and instantly his mouth rejected it.
Hot, metallic and thick, like brewed dirt. He held it in his mouth, glanced around the room, with a thought of ridding himself of it by spitting it across the room.
“Bad isn’t it?” Selina took mini sips of the coffee, accompanied by quakes of distaste shaking his whole body.
Before Trevor could think of a response, Selina continued, “My housekeeper usually makes it at about five forty-five. So when I start my day at six thirty it is all ready for me.”
“Maybe if we added some cream and sugar to it.” Salvage the coffee, Trevor thought, as he attempted to rise.
“Sit. Apparently nobody gets what he or she wants, at…” Selina glanced at his watch, “one thirty in the morning. Drink up. Now, tell me about your involvement with my daughter.”
It all became apparent to Trevor that he had awakened the dragon, and now he would suffer.
Once again, Trevor sipped the dark brew and forced it down his throat. “I was out for revenge. I knew Christopher had plans of marrying Tiffany.”
“Everyone knew this.”
“But I plotted.”
He watched as Selina sat in the chair, mug balanced on his crossed knee with one hand.
The slight tug at the corners of Selina’s eyes the only reaction evident.
“And waited. The perfect opportunity fell into my lap when my aunt needed a dancer for a b
achelorette party out of town. For extra money, I used to take jobs, dancing, while I was in college.”
“Tiffany went to Las Vegas two weeks before her friend Diane’s wedding.”
“Yup, and I was the main attraction.” Trevor planned to be open and honest, but he chose his words carefully, refusing to be disrespectful. “I’m embarrassed and won’t go into details about what my plans were—”
“I’m a man, Trevor. I know what actions would hit a man straight in his…pride.” A slight smile pulled at the corners of Selina’s mouth.
Trevor hoped his finding humor in his plan of action was a good sign.
“Well, I couldn’t go through with it.” Unconsciously, Trevor took a gulp of the liquid and instantly regretted it. He swallowed, frowned.
Selina emitted a sound resembling a laugh, but Trevor wasn’t sure because the governor continued to sit stoic.
“The next time I saw Tiffany, I was drowning my sorrows. I’d drunk a little more than I should have and came up with the clichéd idea of getting married in Vegas.” He drew his hand over his face. “Honestly, if you would have asked me then why I married her, I would have said it was for revenge, but from the first moment I saw her…I can’t explain it. I honestly love your daughter. Who knows, maybe I was starting to fall even then.”
“Why did my daughter agree?”
“She was drunk.”
“Hmm, amazing. Drunk or not, I always believed my daughter held a strong mind and a will of her own.”
Trevor didn’t know how to take the comment, so he remained silent.
“Is it binding?”
“The marriage has been consummated. Willingly and soberly.” Trevor cleared up any doubts Tiffany’s father may have had about him taking Tiffany while she was drunk.
“Glad to hear it. So what now? What do you want from me?”
The pressure in his neck and shoulders began to ease. “Nothing. I just wanted you to hear the truth from me. I couldn’t call myself a man unless I explained things to you face to face.”
Fire & Desire (Hero Series) Page 17
