Wicked Steps

by CORY CYR

  “Are you kidding? Jesus, Kieran, you rode me like I was a thoroughbred in the Kentucky Derby.”

  I choked on a laugh. “Good analogy, but you’d probably have to explain more about Kentucky since I’ve lived abroad for ten years.”

  “You know what I’m talking about. I’m sure Paris has the internet and American newspapers available. You just don’t like being compared to a petite jockey.”

  “There’s nothing small about me. I’m large in all aspects.”

  “Well, yeah, you are tall in stature. There’s that.”

  I began tickling her after that last comment. I hoped she didn’t want me to prove—again—how big my cock was, because I wasn’t sure I could muster up the energy.

  This probably wasn’t the time to have this conversation, but we needed to talk. In the back of my mind, I was optimistic that because she was exhausted, she might be more malleable to my idea.

  “I want you to go to Berlin with me next week,” I blurted out.

  Her body stiffened under my touch, and she shifted into a sitting position. “Berlin. You’re going to Germany?”

  I combed my fingers through my hair as I shoved the pillow behind my back to sit. “Berlin has been planned for months. My agent decided when my father died I should, quote unquote, ‘come out.’ In his opinion, showing my new work and revealing who I really am will generate huge publicity and create more fans. He feels, overall, my career could benefit from the exposure, and maybe it will. Sometimes it’s a bitch keeping who I really am a secret. I only became him because of my father, and since he’s gone, there’s no reason to keep my identity disguised. Kieran Wick can now surface. But honestly, I don’t think people will care who I really am as long as I still produce great art. The work is all I ever cared about.”

  “How was I unaware of this? You’re revealing your identity as Kieran Wick and Wicked. Are you prepared for this? Because that’s not only a major deal in the art arena, but in the real world as well. Are you ready for the ramifications? There will be inquiries. People will want to know why you disappeared. They’ll bring up your mother. Your entire past will be put under a microscope.”

  “Even though the art show had been in the works for months, the press release regarding my identity reveal was only yesterday, and it’s vague. It mentions an unveiling of sorts. I didn’t bring it up because, frankly, you had enough on your plate. I wasn’t sure how you’d react to me disclosing who I really am or the fact that I’m leaving next week. That’s why I’m asking you to come with me. I want you by my side.”

  She looked nervous and uneasy. “Are you insane? I could never go with you. Have you forgotten how we ended up here? It’s bad enough the press will interrogate you, but if they find out about us… My life would be over. Don’t you get it? Those people will never understand—”

  I stopped her abruptly, swearing under my breath. “Your life would be ruined because of me?”

  “Do you want me to lie? Yes, everything I’ve worked for will have been for nothing. All the years I endured marriage to your father. All of it, every sordid detail would be exposed. The truth is I can’t be a part of your reveal. Us being seen together in Germany—I might as well ring a dinner bell, because every ravenous reporter will want the story. They will probe and analyze, leaving no stone unturned. Your career will survive. My reputation will be destroyed.”

  I swung my legs out of the bed and sat on the edge with my back to her. “Bullshit. It wouldn’t have mattered, because let’s face it, Elle; I’m going to become nothing but your dirty little secret.” I could sense her flinch. “You’re more concerned about what the social circles think about you than us. I don’t understand why their opinions mean shit. You don’t even know them,” I grumbled as my fist clenched next to my side.

  “The same could be said of you. I don’t know you either, not really. Tell me what I’m supposed to do. I’m your deceased father’s wife and you’re his estranged son. How do I explain it? The story wouldn’t just be about you and me, but Hartman and most likely Darcea. Do you want your mother’s name dragged through this affair?” Her voice shook as she spoke.

  “I don’t care what rock they turn over about my father. Let the entire fucking world know what a despicable cocksucker he was. As far as my mother, I’ll cross that bridge on my own. And I beg to differ. Jesus, Elle, you know me well enough to let me fuck you—many times. You’ve gotten close enough to suck my dick. Don’t do this. You can’t have it both ways. You don’t get to have the shiny new toy and play with him when it suits you, and I certainly will not let you hide me in a box. Either you want me or you don’t. I need to know you are all in.”

  I jumped out of bed as she stood.

  “You’re not being fair. You and I, it’s not that simple. It’s complicated. Those people, the ones I don’t know, could get past the age difference, but you’re Hartman’s son. I’ll be crucified.”

  “Do you love me?” The question slipped out. In reality, I didn’t want to know because I was terrified she would say no. Now I’d just spit out the question without thinking about the consequences.

  I could tell I’d caught her off guard. She looked stunned, then lowered her eyes to the floor. “Answering that question would be irrelevant. It would change nothing,” she replied as I watched her walk into her bathroom.

  She hadn’t denied it. But she hadn’t said yes. Was she leaving her options open?

  I hated the fact that she’d chosen to live in fear because of the scrutiny she would receive. We didn’t have to stay here. We both had equal wealth. She could open a gallery in Florence, Berlin, or Rome. Hell, she could solely show my art. I’d even buy her a gallery in Paris. No one would ever have to know about her past. Wicked’s image was already corrupted and morally questionable, but she would be under the radar. We could live a life of art appreciation, solitude, and sexual exploration.

  She wasn’t coming back. I sat back on the bed and waited thirty minutes. It became clear to me she wanted to be alone. So be it. I left and went back to my room. I lay on my bed for hours, trying to listen for her footsteps above me. I should just pack up and return to my suite. Anxiety slammed into my chest as I thought about walking away. I’d asked her that question, but I never asked myself.

  Did I really love her?

  There wasn’t a shred of doubt in my mind or heart. It physically hurt to be away from her.

  How did this happen? I hated her before we even met, and I sure as hell fucked women younger and hotter. But none of them had interior beauty. They were all shallow and pretty on the outside, like I was. Like I used to be before I met her and she fucked up my entire plan.

  Goddamn Preston. I’d always had suspicions of why he wanted us to be friends. Well, now I had my answer. He’d known what was missing from my life. Elle. She filled the void.

  Sure, I could give her the life my father promised her, but I was afraid that would never be enough. She was too afraid. I would love her and honor her, but if she didn’t feel the same, or even want it, the point was irrelevant. I certainly couldn’t drag her to Europe, although the thought had crossed my mind.

  I tossed and turned until I heard her leave. The sun had barely been up for an hour. There was a knot in my stomach as I dragged myself to the kitchen to get coffee. She left me a note saying she was going to the gym, then to work. The words written expressed a hidden meaning—for me not to wait up. It would be a long night. The note was cold and impersonal. We’d survived a hellish month, and now she wanted to throw it all away because she was a coward.

  I took my coffee as I walked into my studio. And because I ended up spilling my coffee on some sketches in progress, I got pissed and started throwing easels and art supplies. Then I began ripping up finished work. I took out my phone and sent her a text indicating we needed to finish our talk.

  Elle: There’s nothing left to say.

  I ended up smashing my phone against the wall. What the fuck did she mean? She walked away from an unfini
shed conversation. Yesterday and last night was perfect until I brought up the coming out. This was supposed to be our weekend. I had hoped for seventy-two hours of ecstasy, and what I got was only ten hours of nonstop fucking. I wasn’t complaining, because she meant more to me than sex. I couldn’t force her to be with me, but I refused to be an invisible entity in her life.

  Once my identity as Kieran Wick went public, all hell would break loose, especially regarding my father. As much as my agent saw this as a golden opportunity, I had some reservations.

  I enjoyed living behind the identity of Wicked. That person could do whatever he wanted without repercussions. I, on the other hand, as the estranged son of Hartman Wick—the media would have a field day. I had to get out of this room before I destroyed every project I’d done in the last month.

  I carefully rolled the remaining charcoal drawings and placed them in tubes. I boxed up the art supplies that were still viable and trashed the ones I’d ruined during my tirade. I stared at her face. I saw how carefully I’d outlined every delicate feature. I was able to finally capture her essence. This proved I could do more than just sketch cock and cunt. I should have torn it to shreds and left it for her to find, but that was the immature part of my thinking. My heart ached, and I wanted to get even. That was the old me. The one that no longer existed because I promised her she could trust me to become a better man.

  I called my agent and told him to get me the next first-class flight to Berlin. Going back to the hotel was no longer an option. I needed to be inaccessible to her and the media. I suppose this was an opportunity to find out if she truly cared for me. I hoped to look over during my exhibition in Germany and see her. But I knew deep down that the same fear that kept her tied to my father for years had forced her to remain frozen in time. If it were just him, I could probably fight it. But the faceless wealthy elite also kept her paralyzed. Because of who her husband had been, they were continuing to dominate her. She was too afraid to walk away. Nothing I could do or say would alter that unless she wanted to break free of this invisible hold, the chains that bound her emotionally.

  I dreamed of a future with her. I wanted her to choose me. But deep down, I’d always fear I’d never be good enough.

  Thirty-Five

  Ellery

  I’d always known my affair with Kieran wouldn’t last. There was no way he and I ever had a chance because of the history between us. Even if time were on our side, it wouldn’t make a difference. We had too many obstacles. The whispers and innuendos would follow us everywhere. True, we hadn’t written the prologue, but the epilogue was anything but a romantic love story.

  I didn’t know what to say when he asked me if I loved him. I swallowed the reply because I knew it didn’t matter. Regardless of how I felt, my peers would never understand. The response to our relationship would be brutal. It would end up destroying any future we might have had.

  I was deluding myself. The odds were stacked against us the minute we saw each other that first night. It had been mutual sexual attraction, then hate, and then somehow it became love. I always thought him denying me the gallery and leaving me without financial security would be my penance for the deal I made with Hartman. But because I loved him, I could survive all that. Walking away from this man, however—that would break me.

  Was I prepared to give up a lifelong dream for a man I didn’t really know or even trust? Would I have the strength to endure the judgments? I had more to lose than just my gallery. My entire life would be dissected. I’d be persecuted for loving Hartman’s son. Could I put my future in his hands? He already had my heart, even if he wasn’t aware of it. But Salacity and all I’d sacrificed for, I wasn’t sure if I could trade one for another, and I sure as hell knew I couldn’t have both.

  “Are you busy?” I looked up as Coco strolled into my office. She handed me a mug brimming with delicious-smelling coffee.

  “Thanks, I need this. Sit down. Let’s go over the paperwork for next season’s acquisitions.” I handed her some files and sipped my drink as she flipped through the pages.

  “You know, as thrilling as these are, I’m dying to know about you and Wicked—I mean Kieran. I was surprised to see you here on a weekend, considering what you have at home.” She licked her lips as she arched her brows. “He’s really too pretty to leave unattended. I mean… you two did merge, so to speak, after you got a clean bill of health. Oh, and by the way, thanks for the impersonal text regarding the results. Jesus, Elle, I thought you would have called me.”

  My face felt hot as embarrassment took over. “Um, well, I was otherwise indisposed.” I leaned back in my chair and stared at my shoes.

  “Oh really…? Indisposed, huh? And how many times were you indisposed?” Coco asked with a crooked smile, laughing.

  “It’s not funny. I’m old and not used to—”

  She cut me off. Bitch. “Please. I do not want to hear you complain because a flexible twenty-four-year-old ravished you. But I need to know. How was it?”

  I smiled dreamily, feeling mischievous. “I can’t describe it because there are no words. Let’s just say he lives up to his name.”

  I could see the worry on her face and the tension in her body. “I knew this would happen. I predicted this, Elle,” she whispered.

  I set down my coffee. “It was already too late when you warned me. It doesn’t matter anyway because he’s pissed off, and I’m glad.”

  Coco’s eyes filled with confusion as she leaned toward me. “What do you mean he’s pissed and you’re glad? You’re happy he’s mad. That doesn’t make sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense. Him being angry gives us equal opportunity to walk away. Did you know he’s having a huge reveal in Germany next week? He’s literally planning to announce that not only is he Wicked, but he’s Hartman Wick’s long-lost son. He wanted me to go with him.”

  Now she looked at me with frustration. “I read about his Berlin showing in yesterday’s trades, but not his plans to unveil the truth about himself. Jesus, this is fucked up. Maybe you should go. Get ahead of the gossip train before it derails.”

  I stood and walked around the front of the desk to lean on it for support. “If he and I were discovered as lovers, everything you and I have worked for would be shit. What I endured for five years would be for nothing. Our gallery couldn’t survive the scandal. Our patrons, especially the ones who knew Hartman… they would be appalled. All of this would be ruined. Sure, everyone expects amoral behavior from a man, but you and I—we’d be fucked.”

  “If you love him like I know you do, fuck the masses. Why do you even give a damn what is said? Those people aren’t your friends; they’re vipers. They have nothing better to do than judge others. Screw them. You went through hell and survived to get us to this point. Please, Elle, don’t give up your much-deserved happiness because of this place and those worthless fucks. Yeah, we both worked hard as hell to make it what it is, but you’re worth more than concrete and glass. This is only what you do; it’s not who you are.

  “And don’t bother adding my feelings into the equation. I can work at any gallery. I just want you to be happy, and if it’s with him, don’t throw that away. You’ll regret it. Just go with Kieran. Regardless, the paparazzi will find out. It would be better if it were on your own terms. You’re in love with him. How is that morally wrong? Now go.” Coco took her coffee along with the paperwork and walked out.

  She was right. I’d always thought owning Salacity was my end plan, but he was. He’d gotten it wrong when he told me I was the light in his dark existence. The truth was he was my luminous savoir at the end of a long and painful tunnel. Tears burned my eyes. I had to call him. I had told him we had nothing left to talk about when he sent me a text. My response could have been misconstrued as me walking away. I was such a fool.

  Five times I called, and I got his voicemail. Not being able to speak to him had me agitated. There was no way I could get any work done until we resolved things. I should have stayed and
fought for us. But I was too much of a coward. I was letting people I didn’t know or care about dictate my actions. I wished now I had answered his question instead of hiding in the bathroom.

  Hartman and I would go for days, sometimes a week, having only silence between us. It seemed strange now, but it’s how we communicated. I would close up after he hurt me, and he would shut down because of what he’d done. It was another trait I didn’t want Kieran to inherit from his father, but I’d pushed him away and left him with no alternative.

  The inside lights were dark when I got to the house. The security system was on, which meant he wasn’t here. I quickly checked his room. All his belongings were gone. The room he’d used as a studio looked as though it had been ransacked. There was evidence of anger. He was pissed. He’d left me.

  I tried his number again—still nothing but voicemail. What I had to say I wanted to tell him face to face. I didn’t want to leave a digital message.

  A sensation of helplessness came over me because I didn’t know what I should do. I tried his hotel, and he’d never checked back in. My final attempt was the airport. Bastards wouldn’t tell me jack shit. So I called Preston because I knew, above anyone else, he’d not only tell me where he was, but sympathize with me.

  I began sobbing as he spoke.

  “I’m so sorry, but Kieran took the redeye to Berlin three hours ago. He appeared in a hurry. I tried to question him, but he didn’t want to talk about it. He signed over everything to you, Ellery—every dime, including the deed to Salacity and the mansion. He was very clear in his directives; the businesses are to be liquidated and the proceeds given to charities per your instructions. I have set up an account in your name that you can draw from. You’ll never have to worry about money. He followed through on Hartman’s promise to you. He made sure you’ll always be taken care of.”

  My crying became uncontrollable. He really did leave me. He didn’t even try to fight for us. He only threw money at me, hoping that would pacify me.