by Taylor Dean
“You’re wrong. He did ditch his duties. He left the family business, breaking my father’s heart. Zane’s only good side is his back, the side you see when he’s walking away. And he will walk away. Mark my words, Mila. He won’t stay. He’ll leave you.”
“You’re such a jerk.” I can’t believe I never saw it.
“Proud of it.”
“You can’t come between us. Quit trying.”
“Don’t make me do this, Mila. It’ll hurt, and that’s what I’m trying to avoid.”
“Don’t make you do what?” I ask, confused.
“Don’t make me hurt you.”
“You can’t hurt me, Ryker. You don’t have that much power.”
“Don’t I?” he says, turning and pacing the room.
Zane hasn’t moved. He’s watching us with guarded eyes, watching the situation unfold, but refusing to indulge Ryker. I’m not sure if he heard our entire exchange, but he probably got the gist.
I remember Zane saying, when it comes to family drama, he takes himself out of the equation. He wasn’t kidding. I’ve seen him do it in the past, once during our visit with Debra, and once when Ryker called and hollered at him for being at the penthouse. I hate that he doesn’t fight back. At the same time, I respect his restraint, his refusal to sink to their level. I have a feeling it was a lesson he learned in early childhood, a survival instinct. He learned to play it cool and keep his thoughts to himself.
Regardless, I’m rattled by his silence, even though I’m fighting the feeling. I wish he’d defend himself, give Ryker an earful. His gaze is still glued to me, like he’s trying to send me a message. But I can’t hear what he’s trying to convey. He’s acting as though he’s an observer, not a participant.
Ryker stops pacing, standing between us like a referee in a boxing match. He directs his next remark toward Zane. “Does she know, Zane? Does she?” He laughs as though he’s disgusted.
That gets my attention. Do I know what? I can feel a subtle shift happening inside me. My confidence is slipping. All at once, I’m filled with trepidation.
“Does she know you’re a stalker? Her stalker?” Ryker asks with an accusatory tone.
What? Zane said Ryker and Debra would mess with us, that it was a given. But this is verging on ridiculous.
Ryker laughs aloud, like the situation is terribly funny and he’s the only one who knows the joke. “I have a cute little story for you, Mila. I’m sure you’ll find it enlightening. Won’t she, Zane?”
The only thing that moves on Zane’s frozen form is the motion of his jaw joint, as though he’s gritting his teeth. A denial is nowhere to be seen.
His demeanor scares me more than anything Ryker can reveal.
“You’re gonna love this, Mila. I promise.”
In spite of Ryker’s odd laughter, his expression is the hardest I’ve ever seen it. I swear, his eyes are so cold, they’re like looking in a dead man’s eyes.
My fingernails dig into my palms as I steel myself for his story. All the while, he can’t break us, wanders through my mind. Over and Over.
I won’t let him.
chapter twenty-six
~
“ONCE UPON A time,” Ryker starts, enjoying this way too much. “I had clients in town and I took them to see the Marin Symphony. It was last year’s season. I attended three nights in a row, taking different people each time. Is this story good so far?”
“No, not at all,” I tell him.
“It’s about to get better.”
Zane’s shoulders are rigid, his posture tense. Is he nervous about Ryker’s story? I swallow and say nothing more.
“All three nights were lovely, if you enjoy that sort of thing. Full disclosure here. I enjoy the symphony somewhat. I hated it as a kid. I thought it was the most boring thing life had to offer. It has since grown on me. Only just.” He holds up two fingers very close together, to indicate a teeny amount.
“Get on with it, Ryker. Say what you want to say.”
He’s a mean man. I didn’t know that about him. Duly noted. I will forever be careful in his presence.
“Some stories can’t be rushed. Especially when the punch line should be savored.”
He pauses and tendrils of fear wander up and down my spine. I was wrong when I thought Ryker didn’t have any humor inside him. He does. Dark humor. Cruel humor. I never really knew this man. The thought bothers me more than I care to admit.
“Where was I? Oh yes. The symphony and how much I sort of, no, barely enjoyed it. My clients loved it, even though one of them snored through the whole darn thing. So rude and so unfair. I couldn’t join him, I had to be the perfect host and pretend I was fascinated.”
So, it was only for my sake that he pretended he loved attending the symphony. Does he ever reveal his true self?
Maybe that’s what he’s doing right now.
Ryker goes on. “At any rate, a funny thing happened while at the symphony those three nights in a row. I saw someone there I knew each and every time. Can you guess who it was, Mila? I bet you can. But I’ll give you three chances just in case.”
My stomach clenches painfully. “I have no idea.”
“You’re such a bad liar. Not necessarily a bad thing, though. If you want to succeed in life, may I suggest getting good at it? But I digress. If you guessed my brother, you would be right on the money. Ding, ding, ding. All three nights in a row, there was Zane, enraptured by the symphony. Like I said, the symphony is okay, but let’s face it, most of the time it’s a real snoozefest. But not to Zane. Oh no, his eyes were glued to the stage, and I mean riveted. The man was freakin’ mesmerized. Made me wonder if we were watching the same performance. Finally, I approached him and asked what he was doing there. Go ahead, ask me what he said, Mila. You’ll love his answer.”
Zane grants me another slight shake of his head in the negative. That’s all—and I need more.
“It doesn’t matter what he said.” My hot cheeks and quivering lips betray me.
“Oh, I think it does. I think it matters big time. First, I’ll tell you what he didn’t say. He didn’t say, Our father just had a stroke and being here reminds me of time spent with him as a kid. That would’ve been my first guess. I was wrong, I admit it. Gotta say, Zane surprised me when he didn’t even glance my way. Instead, he said, The pianist, she’s amazing, isn’t she? So, if you don’t know who that is, I’ll tell you. That was you, my dear, sweet Mila. Yes, you. Our Zane here couldn’t take his eyes off you. Y-O-U. He was captivated.” Ryker scoffs. “News to you, isn’t it? I can tell by that shocked expression on your face. Business 101. Learn how to hide your feelings. You missed that class, Mila, didn’t you?”
Ryker walks toward me acting casual, his hands in his pockets. He thinks he’s won, that he’s dealt the winning blow.
He might have.
“Didn’t you?” he says, his lips snarling.
“Get away from me.”
“Does that hurt enough or should I continue?” he taunts.
“Get out of my sight.”
Ryker moves away, his hands in the air like he’s surrendering. “The power of the truth, Mila. Never underestimate it.”
He throws my own words back in my face. They hit me hard.
I wanted to present a united front, a barricade so tight, Ryker or Debra could never infiltrate it. But there are too many cracks. Zane and I aren’t strong enough for this. He knows it and so do I. We were right to attempt to keep our relationship a secret from the enemy camp. We didn’t have enough time to fortify ourselves from this attack. We need more. More time. More kisses. More hugs. More talks. Just more.
I think the wind could blow and knock me over. Shocked doesn’t describe how I feel. Not even close.
Ryker continues, even though no one wants to hear another word he has to say. “Shortly thereafter, Zane had to leave the country, because that’s what he does. Leaving is his talent, in case you haven’t guessed.”
I turn my heated gaze on Ryke
r. “Then you arranged for us to meet? You’re such a hypocrite. Who stole from who?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, my dear. We met by chance. I knew I’d have to be careful when Zane found out about us. I knew he’d try to steal you from me.”
He’s lying, twisting the truth. It’s his talent.
My heart drops into my stomach and I feel physically ill. Am I a pawn caught in the middle of sibling rivalry? Looking back, my first meeting with Ryker seems calculated. Ridiculous business card and all. He was at the symphony meet and greet to check out the woman he thought his brother was obsessed with. He was never in love with me, falling or otherwise. I was something his brother desired, so he went after me. It explains his lukewarm behavior coupled with his unwillingness to let me go. I was just something to win.
The thing is, I can handle Ryker. I don’t care about him. He doesn’t matter to me.
But, Zane. What about Zane? He has the power to crush my soul.
Am I just a prize to be won?
The memory of the usher speaking to Zane after opening night at the symphony wanders through my mind, the way he patted Zane on the back, the way he mentioned how he never missed a show.
I assumed the usher meant he was attending shows long before I ever played for the symphony.
I swallow hard and shift from foot to foot, feeling shaken to the core, stunned to the very depths of my soul.
I can’t wrap my mind around this revelation. What does it mean? All this time, Zane knew who I was. He watched me play several times. He was mesmerized by me.
I don’t understand. Why didn’t he tell me? I thought we met for the first time that moment when I walked in on him in Ryker’s penthouse.
Then I remember the way he froze, the way he stared at me as though he was in shock. Frozen encounter.
At the time, I thought it was because I had walked into the penthouse unexpectedly. Now, the scene plays out in my mind very differently.
Zane’s face is a stony mask. He’s still watching me with an unwavering gaze, saying nothing.
“Defend yourself,” I say, pleading with him.
“Yes, Zane, defend yourself. Tell her you’re not a thief, that you haven’t taken a red cent from your father’s company. While you’re at it, explain why you haven’t been arrested yet. Mom’s in a tizzy over that one. But the doozy is your stalker-like behavior. Explain to us how you’re not a stalker. I’d love to hear that one, wouldn’t you, Mila? Go ahead, tell her how your behavior was completely normal and not weird at all. Tell her you weren’t staring at her like some lovesick puppy while she performed. Declare your innocence, Zane, I dare you. We’re waiting,” Ryker prods. “This is gonna be good, I can feel it in my bones.”
I hate the way he’s gloating. If he thinks he can win me back, he is sadly mistaken. He’s a poor excuse for a human being. Rotten to the core, every inch Debra’s son. He’s enjoying our pain, like it’s his lifeforce. He feeds off of it. I’ve never seen him so animated.
“Shut up, Ryker,” I say. Childish, maybe. But it feels darn good to say it.
He’s not fazed at all. Ryker pretends like he’s zipping up his mouth and throwing away the key. Like he’s twelve years old. His dark humor disgusts me. I don’t find this side of him amusing. I didn’t know he needed to be cruel to find his funny bone, as sarcastic as it is.
I turn my attention back to Zane. “Please.”
“I can’t,” is all Zane says.
He’s like a statue, firm and immoveable, showing no emotion, and no reaction to Ryker’s accusations. I feel like he’s backing away, removing himself from the situation, removing himself from me. He’s retreated within himself like he’s pretending he’s not here and this isn’t happening. I have a feeling this is how he’s handled Ryker and Debra his entire life.
My eyes fill with tears, but I don’t let a single one fall. “Please, Zane. Say something.”
He shakes his head in the negative again. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? You’re sorry?” Ryker roars. “That’s not good enough. Mila sees you for what you are now. A liar, playing with her emotions. Just so you can take what’s mine.”
Zane must know his silence makes him come across as guilty. This is killing me. I need him to say something, anything. Speak up. Put Ryker in his place. Tell me he loves me. Say this is all a mistake. That Ryker’s not telling the truth. If he would only speak, I would listen. Doesn’t he know that?
Ryker, in his element, goes on. “What’s the matter, Zane? You don’t have Dad to hide behind anymore, do you? No one will save you now.”
Why does Zane simply stand there and take it? I remember him saying that arguing with Ryker or Debra is like spitting in the wind, useless and it never ends up where you intend. I understand that philosophy. I respect it. It’s obvious Ryker wants to fight with him. He’s hungry for it. By refusing, Zane puts out the fire before it has begun. I hate that he’s lived with this all his life.
But this is different. Ryker is deliberately trying to tear us apart. Yet, Zane won’t fight for me. He won’t even speak to me.
I don’t want to be here. I can’t watch Zane behave like this. I turn to leave, to escape. To go cry my eyes out.
“Mila, wait.”
It’s Zane. He speaks.
I face him, hopeful. All I need is a few words of explanation and I’ll believe him. Something. Anything. I’ll forgive him and we’ll move on.
But he just says, “I’m sorry,” one more time.
What does that mean? He can’t explain his actions? Is he admitting guilt? Has he been lying to me? Is he not who I think he is? Has our relationship been exactly what Ryker is insinuating?
“Let her leave. She needs time to process,” Ryker hollers and continues slamming Zane, ignoring me, dismissing me.
“You came here to steal my girl, didn’t you? That was your intention from the very beginning. Admit it. You’re not in love with her. This is all just a game to you, some sort of sick competition.”
Nothing changes. Zane maintains his silence.
My heart breaks in my chest. I turn again, ready to walk away. My hand has a mind of its own. It grips the doorjamb and holds it tight, hesitating, preventing myself from leaving. I don’t want to leave Zane. No one ever stands by him, especially now that his father is unable to be there for him. He needs someone. And I want to be that someone.
I know Zane. There’s a reason why he’s not saying a word, a valid reason. I need to trust him, and not put any stock into Ryker’s accusations. He knows how to twist the truth to make a situation sound dirty, how he wants it to sound. He wants to break us up. Why am I believing anything he says?
Actually, I don’t. It’s a light bulb moment, hitting me with enough strength to stun me. Nothing that comes out of Ryker’s mouth is the truth. I will never believe anything he says.
I want to be the someone who tells Ryker to shut the heck up. Loudly and often. Not just now, all the time. I no longer care about the consequences or keeping peace in the family. Someone needs to put Ryker—and his horrible mother—in their place.
Ryker’s shouting grows louder, closer, and I hang my head. This shouldn’t be how brothers behave with one another. It breaks my heart for Zane. Calm and quiet Zane. The brother who refuses to engage, to fuel the flames of anger. I love him for it.
All at once, a blinding pain rips through my hand. At the same moment, I hear Zane yell, “NO!”
An inky blackness fills my mind, the pain in my hand so searing that I can barely react. Stunned, I turn, wondering what just happened. I fall to my knees, cradling my hand, horrified by the immediate swelling.
No. No. Please, no.
My chest heaves as I stare at my hand. I’m so shocked, I can barely react, barely comprehend what just occurred. It was so fast, so unexpected.
The door that Ryker slammed sways in front of me, still in motion from the force.
It’s not just any door. It’s a heavy twenty-minute fire door. It took streng
th to slam it as hard as he did. All that energy zeroed in on my hand, right at the knuckles, then bounced away, having no idea what kind of trauma it left in its path. My hand was the only thing stopping the door from clicking closed, a doorstop of the worst possible variety.
My hand, my hand.
When a response does come, it hits me hard and fast. Tears instantly pour from my eyes, blocking my vision from the horrific sight of my mangled hand.
My dreams, my life, everything is disappearing in one blinding moment. One small action that will change my world in huge ways.
Anguished cries are forced from my body, sounds I’ve never heard myself make. The pain is unbearable.
But the ramifications are excruciating.
A wave of dizziness makes me fall to the floor. I’m crying uncontrollably, writhing in pain. I can hardly catch my breath as waves of agony course through me.
The blackness is again at the edges of my vision and I feel myself going numb, slipping away. The pain is too much.
I open my eyes, tears blurring my view. Zane is above me, kneeling next to me. His lips are moving, but I can’t hear a word he’s saying above the ringing in my ears. He’s holding my hand, gently cradling it in his own.
Ryker is standing there looking stunned, doing nothing.
Zane turns and yells at him. “Get ice! Now!”
I hear that loud and clear.
Ryker finally acts, leaving my line of sight.
The next thing I know Zane has gently placed a bag of ice on top of my hand. The cold makes me gasp as it invades me, conquers me.
Zane carefully wraps a towel around the ice and my hand, securing it in place. He positions my hand on my stomach and picks me up in his arms, cradling me like a baby. I bury my face in his chest, squishing my eyes closed and gritting my teeth against the waves of agony.
“Help me get her to your car!” he yells to Ryker.
He sounds frantic, yet determined.
There’s several minutes of jostling while Zane gets me to Ryker’s car at record speed. My hand remains cocooned on my belly, the cold ice causing sparks of pain to wander up my arm clear to my shoulder.
