“I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Tell her the truth. The whole damn truth.”
“I can’t.”
“Well then,” he pats my leg and stands up, “good luck to you. I can’t be a party to this.” He turns and walks to the door.
“If he hurts her,” I tell him, “it’ll be partly your fault, then.”
He shakes his head. “Nope. That’s all on you.”
I hold up my middle finger and call out to him. “Hey, jackass.” He turns around. “Thanks for the help.”
Eli nods. “Fuck you, too.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE LEVEL OF THE PARKING GARAGE that I usually park on is taped off when I head into work. There’s damage to be repaired, and police are still milling about, assisting the FBI with their investigation. The disgruntled officers I ran into this morning didn’t seem to like having the FBI take over the investigation. Having two of their agents be the target of a bombing makes it pretty necessary.
I settle for parking on the level above. There’s no entrance to the private elevator. I’ve been trying to avoid public appearances here since the end of the trial. Now with the explosion and the big white bandage on my forehead, I’m sure all eyes will be on me. Someone is bound to be brave enough to ask where Liza is. I’m not ready to answer the question. I really don’t know when she’ll return to the office, or if she ever will. And I can’t comment on the explosion. There’s so much happening that I don’t have any answers for.
After Eli left the hospital, Marco showed up to drive me home. I begged him to take me to Eli’s place. That got me another lecture from Marco. He told me how completely idiotic the agents’ plan is, and will for sure be the deal breaker between me and Liza. I’ll have to thank Eli for tipping Marco off the next time I see him. The only people I have on my side at the moment are the FBI, but they don’t hold any weight with Liza. I guess I’m on my own to figure this shit out. Yeah, it’s my fault. I’ve heard it enough over the last few days.
Again, Eli’s advice about telling her the truth is the most sound.
Again, I hate that he’s right.
I park my car in the closest spot available to the entrance of the building. I’m going to fix this, even if it means getting over myself and spilling all the dirty little secrets I’ve been hiding all this time. And it’s not just because I want to see Rhett brought to justice. It’s just as much because I love Liza and I’m going to fight for her. I’m going to be the man she needs me to be—a man who keeps his word and tells the truth. She’s given so much of herself. I need to honor that by doing the same. I need to own up to my past. If I can’t accept my mistakes, there is no way she’ll be able to. It’s the only way I can fix all of this. I have to do it for Liza. I need to do it for myself. There’s no other way.
I grab my briefcase and walk toward the elevator to the lobby, debating taking the stairs to avoid everyone. I’m the head of this agency; I need to make myself visible to everyone I expect to follow me.
I swipe my entry card in the new security system. It monitors everyone with access to the building, when they come and go. All visitors are required to check in at the front desk and get a visitor’s pass assigned exclusively to them before they can go anywhere else in the building. An added measure of protection against my brother lurking where he doesn’t belong.
The lobby is crowded with people coming into work, brushing me as they pass. I nod to Tyler, one of Marco’s men, and walk to nearest elevator. It’s packed, and I hesitate for a moment, contemplating if I should catch the next one. At the last minute, I get on.
The elevator is stuffy and warm. I loosen my tie and look at my watch as we come to the first stop. A couple people hop off only for three more to get in. This goes on for each floor until I reach the Romance level. I make a last-second judgment call and step off, walking through the bull pen.
People stare at me as I weave my way through the desks of all the assistants and head toward Liza’s office. No one says anything, but I feel twenty pairs of eyes staring at me as I walk by. The lights in Liza’s office are off, the curtains drawn. A box sits in front of her door. I stop and look over to the desk across from her office.
“Good morning, Ms. Archer,” I say to Liza’s assistant.
The small girl with bright blonde hair gazes up at me with her green eyes and offers me a soft smile. Though Liza hasn’t been to work in weeks, her assistant is here every day, monitoring calls, taking messages, and sorting her mail. “Good morning, Mr. Harder.”
I notice a small package on her desk, and my heart drops to the pit of my stomach. It’s addressed to Elizabeth Lewis…Liza’s birth name. There is no return address. “Do you know where this box came from?”
“No, sir. It was delivered as soon as the doors opened this morning.”
I walk closer to the package and look down. She kept her true identity a secret for six years, and probably would have for a lot longer if not for her psychotic sister. “And they didn’t say who it was from?”
“No. The mail room guy just said the delivery came in for Ms. Winter, and that it was urgent. I called her and she said she’d be sending Elias down to pick it up.”
Perfect. Just fucking perfect. The last person I want to see right now is that asshole. It’s becoming a daily thing with us. I pick up the package, wondering why she hasn’t taken it into the office yet. “Don’t worry about it,” I say. I flash her a smile and tuck the box under my arm. “When Eli arrives, let him know I’ll make sure Liza gets it.”
That’ll piss him off. It’ll probably piss Liza off too, but it gives me a legitimate reason to see her without pleading with her. If it takes me getting down on my hands and knees in the mud for her to see me, I’ll do it in a heartbeat. But this is the perfect excuse. She might make Eli answer the door and refuse to let me in, but it’s worth a shot.
I pull my keys out of my pocket, fiddling for the one that unlocks the door to her office, and let myself in. I flip on the lights and close the door behind me. I walk over to her desk, pull out her leather chair and sit down, taking in all the things that represent her. Her office was once plain, barren of any personal touch. The transformation in the past few months has been astounding. Liza and I came in a couple months ago on a Friday night and worked all weekend sprucing the place up. It took a little coaxing, but she finally gave in. What was once a blank white wall is now a soft shade of sea green. We put together a large bookshelf that takes up most of the right wall in the office and filled it will all her favorite books, plus the recently been published ones of her clients. Black and white photos of books and pianos from different angles hang from whatever open spot we could find. Her desk is decorated with several picture frames, mostly images the two of us, though there are a few of her and Eli.
I pick up the largest photo in the group and stare at it. It’s from the last time we were at the cabin and we hiked down to the lake and had a picnic. She’s radiant in her happiness, pure and unhindered. What I would give to see that smile again.
I return the picture to its place and stare at the package again. The thought of calling Marco and telling him about the package crosses my mind, but I cast it idea aside. I sit in the chair staring at the package for a long time trying to decide what to do with it. The sensible part of me says to let it be, just deliver it to Liza and hope she’ll tell me about the contents. The irrational part of me says I need to open it and see what it holds before delivering it to her. I don’t want it to be something that is going to upset her or harm her in any way.
I pull the package toward me and make up my mind. There is no way I am delivering this to her without knowing what’s inside.
I open the top drawer of her desk and fumble around for a box cutter. I push the blade out and carefully begin to cut into the top of the box along the middle of the flaps. I take a deep breath before I open it.
Nestled below a wad of crumpled-up newspaper is a letter. I use a tissue from the desk dispenser, l
ift the letter out and set it aside. Then I pull out a stack of photos lying underneath. I look at the image on top and cringe. It’s me and a young woman whose name I don’t think I even asked for. The angle of the photo makes it difficult to discern much detail. I think I’m about twenty in this. It’s from long before I ever met Liza, as if that even matters.
The next several photos are of me in compromising positions with various women, all similar to the first photo and none of whom I remember meeting or seeing ever again. These are all photos of events from my past—a past I have shared with Liza, a past that the media liked to plaster all over the page. But the photos are intimate. I know it will only push her further away from me to see these.
I flip through the pictures until I come across photos of people I don’t recognize. In the photo, it’s the same woman again and again. She has blonde hair and blue eyes and is strikingly gorgeous. None of the men are the same in either photo. I look through them with a sick feeling forming in my stomach and stop until I come across a photo of someone I recognize even from a side profile. In the photo is Robert, the man Liza learned months ago is her biological father. The blonde woman is holding a baby in her arms, leaning into Robert and pressing her lips against his. I know exactly who the woman is now: its Liza’s mother, with several different men. I set the photo aside and look at the last one.
It’s Jacob, Liza’s ex-boyfriend, tangled in sheets with her very naked mother.
It’s no secret that her mother and high school boyfriend had an affair, but I don’t think she’s ever seen proof. Not like this. I gather all the pictures up and throw them in the box. I don’t know how my brother has gotten his hands on all these photos. The ones from my past make sense. But Liza’s mother? How did he get his hands on them? How did he even know they existed? I didn’t know they did. They were from a time before I met Liza, before her father had murdered her mother, and I’m sure Liza doesn’t know about them. She would’ve told me…I hope. These photos only prove how far my brother’s hand reaches. I stare hard at the letter, hoping it will spontaneously burst into flames.
I pick up the letter and start to unfold it when the door to Liza’s office burst open and Eli steps through. His brow is furrowed, his face is crimson, and his body tense.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” He takes a deep breath and slams the door.
He’s in my territory now, even in Liza’s office. “Last time I checked, I run this building. I can come and go as I please.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to open other people’s mail.”
I stand up and square my shoulders. “It’s a good thing I did. Here.” I slide the box of photos toward him. “Take a look for yourself.”
Eli glances between me and the package before he finally relaxes and covers the distance to the desk. He lifts the photos out of the box and fumbles through them. His face registers disgust, if not surprise. He fills in the blanks. “Your brother is a sick fuck.”
I shake the envelope. “There’s more.” Eli comes around the desk and stands next to me. He looks over my shoulder as I unfold the printed letter the rest of the way. I read it aloud:
Dearest Liza,
The two people who claim to love you the most both wind up stabbing you in the back. Be careful who you give your heart to. You never know when it’s going to be ripped out.
There’s no signature. There doesn’t need to be.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Eli says.
I can’t wrap my head around his intentions. He’s all over the place. First the voice mail he left months ago. Then the photos of Lily. Then the car bomb in the parking garage and now these photos and the letter. I can’t understand what he is trying to do.
I bend down and pick up a photo that dropped out of the letter. I turn it over and let out an exasperated sigh. I feel Eli shift and tense up next to me. He’s seeing what I’m seeing, but for what it looks like and not what it really is. It’s an image of Lily and me from the other night, after we were done talking at Backyard Barbeque. The same night Liza ran into us in the parking lot, and I didn’t go after her. In the photo, we have our arms wrapped around each other and I’m holding her tightly. Our faces are so close that our lips almost touch. “You said this didn’t happen, Harder,” Eli says angrily.
My chest is tight and I struggle to breath. “It didn’t, Eli. I swear to you…it didn’t happen like this.”
He examines the photo again. “Looks like you’re getting ready to kiss her.” I see the fury in his eyes.
Not that I didn’t know it before, but he’s right.
My brother is a sick fuck.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“I’M NOT TOO SURE ABOUT THIS,” Eli says.
I look over at him sitting in the passenger seat of my car. Thankfully, he’s calmed down long enough for me to rehash my talk with Lily. The photo was captured at the right moment to look like I was about to kiss her, but in reality, we hugged. That was it. Considering the strange tension of the situation, it wasn’t untoward in the least. I’m not sure Eli believes me, but he gives in. Seeing how Rhett is playing now, he’s willing to help me try to convince Liza to take me back and to move up the wedding date.
Getting one step ahead of my brother is paramount now.
We’ve brought the photos with us. The agents should see them, but they’re in no shape to help for the moment. So, I’m going to talk to Liza. Eli thinks the best approach to this is to just tell her the truth about everything: the FBI, the photos, my involvement. If I come clean, Liza might willingly go along with the plan…but I have a plan within that as well. I don’t want her to do this just to draw out Rhett. I want true forgiveness from her.
I want our wedding to be real.
I pull into Eli’s driveway, circle the obnoxiously large water fountain in the center of the circle and park in front.
Eli grips the door handle and looks at me. “Let’s get this over with,” he says.
I follow him up the walkway. I release my clenched fists as he opens the front door, preparing myself for the tension as I step into the foyer. I’m able to relax a little when nothing sails toward my head.
Eli does everything in excess where his cars and his house are concerned. I’ve only been inside once. It still impresses me. I thought my house was unnecessarily large, with seven bedrooms and eight bathrooms, but it has nothing on his twelve bedrooms and fifteen bathrooms. Eli comes from old money, according to Liza. I’ve never asked him about it directly, and if I can avoid it, I probably never will.
“Liza!” Eli’s shout echoes through the house. He looks at me and raises an eyebrow.
“In the kitchen.” Her response is faint.
Eli looks over his shoulder. His expression says everything. He nods, and I follow him through the opening under the grand double staircase. The hall leading to the kitchen is filled with photos of his friends and family members. I walk slowly enough to look at each photo but fast enough to keep pace. I stop and stare at a photo of Liza and Eli from what looks to be only a couple years ago. They’re in her old apartment, sitting on her worn-out couch, cuddling. Eli holds the camera at arm’s length to get them both in the photo. Her silly face makes me smile and breaks my heart at the same time. He has truly been there for her and knows her in a way that I will never be able to.
Eli clears his throat and I turn my attention back to him. He motions me forward and I start to walk again. As we get closer to the kitchen, the smell of cookies hits me. I smile. Liza loves to bake. She picked it up again only recently, but told me that when she was younger, the staff in the house she grew up in couldn’t keep her out of the kitchen. My mouth starts to water in anticipation.
Some sort of techno song is blasting from the kitchen. It’s what she always listens to when she’s cooking. Liza has her back turned to us. I stop near the entrance and just watch her. Her dark hair is thrown up into a messy bun and she has an apron on. Her body sways to the music. It’s a sight I’v
e definitely missed the last couple of days. I miss the way she fills our home. I miss the way she feels in my arms. I miss her.
I miss us.
I struggle against my impulse to walk over to her, pull her in my arms, and tell her that I will never let go. I’ve made a mistake, this much I know, but seeing her now puts things into perspective. How can I be so selfish? How can I be so stubborn? I’ve been a fool.
“Eli?” she calls out, but she keeps her attention on whatever she’s stirring in the large bowl on the marble counter top. I wonder how she knows Eli is even in here. I’m sure she didn’t hear our arrival over the sound of the music playing.
My chest tightens when I realize she probably can’t sense me like I can sense her.
“I want you to taste this. Remember those cookies that Rosa used to make?” Liza turns around and her gaze lands on me.
My body goes rigid, and my heart begins to pound against my chest. I’m frozen in place by the look of sheer horror on her face.
“What the hell is he doing here?” She directs her question to Eli but with her green eyes glued to mine.
“I can explain,” he says. Liza crosses her arms over her chest. He holds his hands up in the air in surrender. “Really…I can.”
“Unless he’s ready to talk, I don’t want him here.”
“I’m right here.” I lift a hand up and wave. “There’s no need to talk about me like I’m not.”
Liza’s face is flushed. Her eyes narrow, and her lips form a tight line.
“It’s good to see you too, Liza. I’m fine, by the way. It was just a little explosion is all. No big deal. I’ll be fine when the stitches come out.”
“Not the time for sarcasm, Reid,” Eli says.
He’s right again.
Liza glances between us and her gaze lands on mine.
“Nope. You’re right. Now’s the time for honesty.”
“Reid…” he says again.
I turn toward Liza. “Look, you have every right to be pissed at me. I’m pissed at myself for hurting you. But you’re not the only one in pain.”
If I Say No (Say Something #2) Page 9
