Heart Thief

by Taylor Dean

  He takes me in his arms and holds me close as we begin to sway to the music. “They can’t touch us,” I say vehemently.

  “They can and they will. Expect it.”

  “Don’t say that. We won’t let them.”

  “And yet we’re hiding from them.”

  “I thought you agreed it was for the best right now.”

  “I do. We’re fortifying the ranks while we’re not under attack.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask.

  “It means, we need this time, me and you. Time to build our relationship before family interferes. It’s a smart move, Mila. I see the wisdom in it. I’m not upset with you. But one day soon, I’m gonna tell the world you’re my girl. I’m gonna shout it from the rooftops. So be prepared.”

  “I’ll shout with you.”

  “Deal.” His arms run up and down my back.

  “Team Mila and Zane.”

  “Team Mila and Zane,” he repeats with a smile in his voice.

  His arms wrap around me tightly and I do the same, melting into him. I burrow my head against his chest and let the beautiful music envelop me. We hold each other long after the first song ends. And many, many songs later.

  Gently, he cups my chin and brings my face up to his for a kiss, the soft, slow intimate kind I know Zane loves.

  Eventually, it turns into the hard and fast kiss Zane is an expert at. Somewhere in the midst of the kiss, we stop dancing. Somehow, he walks me backwards without me even realizing we’ve moved. Somehow, I end up pressed against the wall, kissing him with as much enthusiasm as he is kissing me.

  And somewhere along the line, I know without a doubt that I’m deeply and madly in love with Zane Martel. More so than I ever thought possible.

  This. This is what I’ve wanted. For a man to kiss me in a way that expresses everything he’s feeling inside. I feel his love, his desire, his longing. It’s more than that, though. I feel his emotions like they’re right there on the surface, displayed for me to see. He’s not holding back. He’s giving himself to me, heart and soul. No falling. He’s the fallen. I’m right there with him. His kiss says he can’t get enough, like he wants to consume me.

  There’s no going back now.

  Zane’s wrong. Debra and Ryker can’t touch us. Not when we’re building such a strong foundation.

  We’re solid. They can’t break us.

  chapter twenty-four

  ~

  AFTER FRESHENING UP in my dressing room, I make my way to the meet and greet. I’m still in my black evening gown, my hair in a perfect up-do, soft tendrils curling on my neck and cheeks.

  My first performance of the season went off without a hitch. I was in the zone and played my best yet. There was something about knowing Zane was in the audience, his eyes on me, that made me feel different, more alive, more animated than I’ve ever felt before.

  I feel his love. I feel it emanating across a crowded performance hall and landing on me. And I absorb every molecule like a starving woman at her last meal.

  As I visit with patrons, I finally find Zane in the crowd. He’s across the room, his eyes on me every time I glance his way. We share a few small smiles, strangely satisfying smiles that say we have a secret that’s ours and ours alone.

  I’ve never understood the meaningful glances between loving couples, the looks in their eyes, the silent messages they send each other. Now I do. Yet, it’s only a glimpse of the bond that awaits us as our relationship progresses. I look forward to every moment, each new development.

  This is torture. I have a crazy desire for the evening to be over so I can be with Zane and kiss him until he begs for mercy.

  Besides, I have the most amazing news to share with him. I’m about to burst if I don’t blurt it out soon.

  My step is light as I make my way through the crowd, stopping here and there to chat with patrons. I appreciate the kind words, the praise, but I’m eager to speak with my man.

  There he is. I see him, leaning against a wall as he waits, doing nothing except watching me, his eyes doing things to me we’ve never done before. The sight of him makes my breath hitch in my chest. I now know what breathless truly means.

  He’s holding a dozen beautifully wrapped red roses.

  For me.

  It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him dressed in a suit. He does it justice, but I much prefer him in his ripped-at-the-knees jeans and white v-neck t-shirt. That’s the Zane I fell in love with.

  But the dark gray suit he’s wearing this evening fits him like a second skin. I didn’t even know he owned a suit. He’s wearing a burgundy dress shirt, open at the neck, no tie—a slight snub at convention. He looks casually sleek, like he walked off the pages of a glossy magazine.

  Wow.

  As I approach, one of the ushers, an older man, momentarily steals Zane’s attention.

  “Zane, how you doing, buddy? Good to see you. It’s been a while.” He slaps his back a few times. “There was a time when you never missed a show. Good to see you again.”

  That’s my symphony loving man. It’s a unique preference, and I’m glad his father passed it along to him when he was young. It gives us common ground, a place where he understands me and my passion.

  Zane’s eyes find me again and his expression changes. He goes completely still and blinks heavily. I love the slight smile curving his full lips. It’s like he’s captivated.

  By me.

  As long as I live, I’ll never forget that face, his countenance. The way his chest slowly rises and falls with exaggeration. Like I do something to him.

  I know he does something to me. I’ve never felt anything like this. Not even close.

  I walk a little closer. So does he.

  “Miss Westerman, incredible performance this evening. You were amazing,” the usher says.

  “Thank you,” I say, my eyes never leaving Zane’s.

  Zane closes the distance between us and hugs me tightly. “You were breathtaking.”

  He hands me the bouquet of roses. “For you.”

  “Thank you. And thank you for coming this evening. It means the world to me.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m not going to miss a single performance. If you’re playing, I’ll be there.”

  I can’t contain my smile. I’m brimming with excitement. “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “A man from the San Francisco Symphony attended this evening. He knocked on my dressing room door after the performance.”

  “And?”

  “He asked me to audition.”

  “What? A personal invite to audition to play with the San Francisco Symphony. Mila, that’s amazing.”

  “I know.” I smile so big, it hurts. “I’m so excited.”

  Zane holds my shoulders as though he’s keeping me down. “I know you want to, but don’t do it here.”

  “I might. I can’t help myself.”

  “Restraint, Miss Westerman. A happy dance is probably considered unbecoming for a serious musician like yourself. Wait until we’re home.”

  “Find me a place. I can’t wait. It might happen right here and I’ll blow my cover. Everyone will know underneath it all, I’m just a silly little girl.”

  Zane chuckles. “Nah, it’s obvious you’re a full-grown woman, my dear.” His eyes twinkle. “I think I can help you. Come with me.” He grabs my hand and weaves through the crowd, stealing me away.

  We break through the doors and into the fresh night air. We run down the street, him in his suit and me in my evening gown, laughing as we go. It’s such a perfect moment. I imagine we’re running in slow motion, unseen wind in our hair and on our faces.

  He finds a dark storefront and pulls me into it.

  “Okay, go!”

  I don’t do it alone.

  He joins me in my wacky happy dance, my Mila’s Musical Moment. He jumps up and down with me and pumps his fist in the air, moving his head at silly angles as he tries to mimic me. I laugh so hard at the sight, my sto
mach hurts.

  He picks me up and twirls me around. “I’m so freakin’ proud of you, Mila Westerman. You did it, you did it.” I slide down his body as he lowers me down, still holding me in his arms. “I’m gonna kiss your face off.”

  It’s the kind of thing I expect Zane to say. “Well, there you have it. That’s quite possibly the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me. Romance is definitely not dead.” I don’t wait for him to initiate the kiss. I initiate it this time, practically attacking him.

  He doesn’t seem to mind.

  chapter twenty-five

  ~

  THE ELEVATOR DOORS open, and as I enter the hallway, my step has a bounce to it. The thought of Zane makes me want to skip like a little kid. It’s only been a few days since that amazing kiss in the dark storefront and we’ve already shared similar moments several times.

  Kissing Zane is my new favorite thing in the world. I’m so happy, I might burst. If I do, rainbows and sprinkles will fall out of me. Life is that good.

  My parents are coming this weekend to hear me play with the symphony. I can’t wait for them to meet Zane. I’ve told my mom so much about him, I imagine she thinks he deserves sainthood.

  I hope Zane is already home from visiting his father. I just finished playing for ballet classes and I have the evening off. I can’t wait to spend it with him.

  Instead of the usual music blasting through the penthouse, a loud voice meets my ears. Angry. Gruff.

  My steps falter. Is that . . . is that . . . Ryker? He’s home?

  I walk slowly toward the wide-open door of the penthouse. I linger in the hallway, listening to the words the livid voice is saying.

  “Did you really think you could get away with this? Seriously, Zane. Who do you think you are?”

  It is Ryker. He’s home, and he’s giving Zane a piece of his mind. Guess our secret has become public knowledge.

  I move to the doorway. For the first time in my life I lay eyes on the two brothers together, side by side.

  Ryker’s in his usual suit, looking refined and polished.

  Okay, stuffy. Why didn’t I notice that before?

  Zane’s in his signature jeans and t-shirt. Barefoot.

  I know where my heart stands. No contest.

  This turn of events doesn’t matter, I tell myself. Me and Zane are good. Nothing will change that. The two of us together, we’re strong. Team Mila and Zane. Ryker can’t hurt us.

  Ryker is walking around the room as he talks, gathering up every single colorful item Zane and I placed in his penthouse. He’s making a pile on the floor, like he’s collecting the garbage so it can be taken out. I suppose that was expected.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Did you really think you could take what’s mine? How dare you!”

  Is he referring to me when he says you can’t take what is mine? I’ve got news for him.

  Turns out, Ryker is not a smooth-talking man. That was a façade. He’s an angry, ill-tempered jerk. If I’d married him, I would’ve seen this side of him, no doubt directed at me often. I’m glad I saw it long before I tied myself to him for life. Thank goodness I found Zane, otherwise I would be questioning my judgement with every man I meet from here on out.

  Ryker’s handsome features are contorted with rage, making him ugly. I don’t recognize this man. After all the time I spent with him, I truly never knew him. He didn’t reveal himself to me. Conversely, I’ve known Zane for a short period of time, and I feel like I know him inside and out. He’s shown me who he is, and I love him.

  Zane’s acting cool and unfazed, leaning his back against the wall, arms folded across his chest. He’s doing what he usually does when he faces Ryker’s temper—calmly waiting for the storm to pass. I adore my diplomatic man.

  “All my life, Zane. All my life. You’ve always wanted what I have. You’ve always tried to take what’s mine. I’m sick of it.”

  Zane says nothing. He could be passing the time on a sailboat on a lazy summer day and he’d look no different.

  “I have proof, don’t bother denying it. You should know by now, Zane, you can’t use the bathroom without me knowing about it. I will always be watching you. I won’t let you take what’s mine or interfere with my life.”

  Ryker grabs his briefcase, flips it open angrily, and pulls out a large envelope. He rips it open and removes large glossy eight-by-tens. He tosses them on the dining room table.

  “I have eyes everywhere.”

  Zane pushes away from the wall and studies the pictures on the table. I can’t see what they are, so I step into the room.

  Both men notice me then. Ryker whirls around, his eyes fierce and glaring. “Mila. Good. You’re here. You need to hear this.”

  That’s his greeting? Okay, then. The lines are drawn.

  “What are you doing home?” I ask.

  “I’m here to save you from yourself.”

  He came all this way to save me? Seriously? “I don’t need saving.”

  He sends me a shame on you look. “You don’t even realize what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you?”

  Zane’s eyes land on me. With my entrance, his expression has changed into a mask of concern and worry. He shakes his head slightly in the negative, like he’s telling me he doesn’t want me to be here. He’s protective of me, but I can handle Ryker, especially now that I see him for what he is.

  Arthur whines in the corner, approaching Ryker on shaky legs.

  “Shut up, Arthur. Back to your bed. Now!” Ryker roars.

  Whoa. That was mean. My sweet Artie retreats silently to his bed and curls into a ball. Is this how Ryker always treats him? If so, his fear and shaking all make sense now.

  At this point, my feelings toward Ryker are not anywhere near kind or caring. They’re on the opposite end of the spectrum. A four-letter word that begins with H.

  Ryker grabs the pictures on the table and throws them at my feet. “Don’t bother denying a thing.”

  I look down and see a picture of Zane brushing my hair while we sit in his Jeep. There’s another one of me and Zane walking through Chinatown, hand in hand. Yet another one shows us dancing—very close—in a Chinatown restaurant. One is of us sitting on the dock at Stow Lake, my head on his shoulder, his head resting on mine, the sun beginning to set in the background. Another one is of us escaping after my first symphony performance, holding hands as we run down the street, my roses dangling in one hand. We look so happy, so carefree. Of course, the photographer also caught the passionate kiss we shared as we stood in the dark storefront.

  When it comes to the nature of my relationship with Zane, the pictures say it all. Am I supposed to feel guilty? Does he expect me to apologize, to act like I have been caught doing something horribly wrong?

  Not going to happen.

  Instead, I want to ask if I can have the pictures to frame for my wall. I don’t have any pictures of us, other than the occasional random selfie. Most are silly. I know that query won’t go over well. Yet, I’m so tempted.

  I look up at Zane, suppressing my smile. I want to say, look at these great pictures of us. But, again, I notice that his calm exterior has turned to blatant worry upon my arrival. I wish I could reassure him that everything is fine, that we got this.

  “I warned you, Mila. I told you Zane was bad news. I see you didn’t listen.”

  Zane’s not saying anything, so I don’t either.

  Ryker continues. “Did you know Zane is under investigation for embezzlement? I told you that you shouldn’t trust him and there’s a reason why. He has stolen from his own father’s business. Doesn’t that disturb you? It should.”

  Zane stands there watching me, observing the emotions that wander over my face.

  Wait. Is he anxious about this revelation? Surely not.

  Ryker already told me about Debra’s false accusations against Zane. I never discussed it with Zane. I didn’t feel the need. “I don’t believe those accusations for even a hot second.”

  �
��Really? You don’t care? You don’t care that you’re seeing a man who’s a criminal? A man who steals for a living?”

  “He’s innocent until proven guilty as far as I’m concerned.”

  “He’s a thief!” Ryker shouts, as if that’ll convince me to shun Zane.

  The only thing he’s stolen is my heart. I debate over it, but decide it’s best if I don’t say that out loud.

  “I came home for a few days—all the way from Japan—just to save you from him. You have no idea what a huge mistake you’ve made. You’ve fallen for his lies, hook, line, and sinker. He’s manipulated you. Can’t you see it? Are you really that blind? Everything in life is a competition to Zane. He wants to win, and you’re the current prize.”

  Zane’s face is now blank, giving me nothing to hang onto. It doesn’t matter. My grip is tight and unyielding. “I don’t believe you,” I tell Ryker.

  Ryker lets out a sinister laugh, like what I said is so ridiculous, there are no words to convey my stupidity.

  “He’s gotten to you, Mila. He’s under your skin and you’re so blind you can’t see straight. He’s a master manipulator. Did you really think he showed up on my doorstep by chance?” He shakes his head. “Oh, Mila. How could you be so naïve?”

  That’s sour grapes talking. I know it is.

  “Did he feed you a sob story about his poor, neglected childhood? Did he toss the dead mother card your way? Girls love that stuff. They fall for it every time. They have his whole life.”

  “Never underestimate the power of the truth.”

  Ryker walks over to me and stands directly in front of me, blocking my view of Zane. It’s a stance designed to intimidate, but I don’t back down. “Did you really just say that? Are you serious right now?”

  “Utterly,” I tell him firmly.

  “Then you’re a fool. He’s playing with you like you’re his current favorite toy. He’ll leave you. It’s what he’s good at. Leaving. If that doesn’t scare you, I don’t know what will.”

  “Listening to you makes me a fool.” I’m fed up with Ryker and his twisted version of the truth. “Zane left for his Army commitments. Quit making it sound as though he ditched his responsibilities. I can see right through you. The game is over, Ryker. Give it up.”