by Allen, Dylan
His dark ringlets cover his head like a crown. He’s leaner, but more muscular. Every bit as tall and strong as I remember him.
Oh, God.
I want to climb him like a tree.
I deflected earlier by gushing about the scenery and trying to get us out of the pocket of tension we’d stepped into the minute we saw each other.
I’ve been taking huge imaginary gulps of air. It hasn’t helped the feeling of light headedness that’s come over me.
Being forced to think before I speak feels like a huge task. But, I have to remember why I’m here in the first place. My job.
“Kal. Did you hear me? Are you okay?” Remi peers at me.
“I’m fine. It’s just a shock to see you and of course, what you tell me, stays here.” I think I can make that promise in good faith. Whatever is going on with him, can’t possibly be about the Rivers woman. “I’m listening, go ahead.” I nudge.
He takes a deep breath. “My father didn’t die when I was two.”
Those are the very last words I expected to hear. “Come again?”
“He left when I was two,”
“Left? I don’t understand.”
“He divorced my mother. Remarried, had another kid.”
I process that quickly. “Okay, so everyone just thought he was dead?”
“No, they—my grandfather and mother—knew he wasn’t. They let us think he was dead because that was easier in their minds than us and the public knowing that he walked away.”
My eyes bug out of my head. “But, that’s… crazy. Do people actually do things like that?”
“Apparently, my people do. The kicker? Gigi Rivers was the woman he left her for.”
A feather could knock me over right now. My mind is racing. I make a mental list about everything that I know about Gigi Rivers. Other than she’s Hayes Rivers’ aunt and that she lives in Italy, and that she was estranged from her family for years, there’s not much information about her. And the word is that she and the family reconciled when her brother died. She raised Hayes in Italy from his teens until he came back last year. Something clicks, the way it does when I finally find the last piece of a puzzle.
I remember the paternity test Jules mentioned.
Oh my God. It can’t be.
“You said they had a kid. You have a half sibling? Do you know where they are?” I ask in a neutral, but hopeful voice. I need him to dismiss that impossible thought.
“Yeah, I know.” He looks at me, his eyes glinting and his lips set in a thin hard line.
“You do?” My eyes nearly bug out of my head.
“But, it’s not for me to tell you. That is not my secret.”
But with those words, he gives it away. It must be Hayes. It makes so much sense. He’s just unwittingly given me the answer to the scoop I came down here to chase. This story would be explosive. Except, of course now, I can’t write it. I just promised Remi and I would never ever violate his privacy like that.
Now, I just have to make sure no one else finds out, I’ll tell Jules there’s no story. Go back to New York and hunt down something else to help me clinch that job. I fall backwards in my seat.
“I know, it’s totally crazy, right?”
“Yeah. Totally…” I trail off as another question hits me. “So where’s your dad? Is he still with Gigi? Did he move to Italy with her?”
“No, he didn’t. But I don’t know where he is. Gigi says he left the house to head to town for work, but he never showed up there and he never came home. She was pregnant with… their kid. She had the baby, went to Italy and planned on taking this secret with her to the grave.”
“Holy shit,” I exclaim louder than I intended and give him an apologetic wince.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to sound excited. It’s just crazy.”
“Yeah, it’s crazy. So crazy that I’ve decided I don’t want anything to do with any of them.”
“So, that’s why you went to see her in the hospital?”
“No. I went because Hayes is my friend. She got shot, almost died. Then he led me into a room and left me there so she could tell me something he’d known for weeks.” He grinds his fist into his palm. “Just thinking about that day makes my blood pressure spike. I’m so fucking pissed at everyone, Kal.”
“I can’t even imagine,” I say; I feel totally helpless.
“My whole life is a fucking lie. My mother robbed me of really knowing who my father is. My grandfather, who I thought was my best friend, let me believe my father was dead while he played the grieving father. If he wasn’t already dead, I’d fucking kill him.”
I put a hand on his chest to stop him from talking. “Wait. So, are you saying your father’s not dead?”
“No. I’m not saying that. But, I have no proof that he is either. I’ve been here for months now. No one remembers him or Gigi. Ms. Jameson, who cooks for me thinks she remembers Gigi, but not him. I came out here expecting to find answers easily and there’s just nothing.”
“Why didn’t you call me? I’m like the missing person specialist. I know we haven’t spoken in eight years—”
“Eight years, six months and twenty-one days, but who’s counting?” he adds with a dry chuckle. “And the last time I saw you, I told you I couldn’t have anything to do with you.”
“Um, these are sort of extenuating circumstances, don’t you think?” I chide him.
He looks at me hard and long, his expression stony. “Honestly, Kal. I just wanted to be alone. Wanted to not be Remington Wilde. To see who I was if I wasn’t Lucas’ son. They built this legend around him and then pushed me to live up to it. It wasn’t even real. I threw myself into my work to build something worthy of the name I was given. And now, it’s like it all means nothing. So, I came here hoping to just have some fucking peace of mind.”
He closes his eyes and I feel a huge wave of sympathy for him. But I know if I express it, it’ll just annoy him.
“So, did you find it? Your peace of mind?” I ask after a few minutes.
“No. But it’s been good to cut off the world and just… be.”
I look around the rustic but chicly decorated cottage. It’s got every modern convenience, but it’s furnished to be comfortable rather than stylish. Two huge brown leather couches make a corner around a fireplace that stands in the middle of the room.
“So, this was their house?”
“Yeah. They bought it and the farm when they walked away from their families in Houston. Gigi pays the taxes on it every year. Has it renovated regularly. She said she’d planned on telling me one day. And that almost dying made her realize it was time.”
He pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and smooths his fingers over the worn edges of it. He’s got the nicest hands. Long, broad fingers, square, wide fingernails, and intricately veined. Strong, sure hands that seemed to know things about my body that no one else does.
“This is the letter. He planned on finding a way to see us again. He said my mother and my grandfather wouldn’t agree to let him see us.”
“Can I read it?” I ask and he hands it over without looking up.
I unfold it carefully, it’s worn and even though he’s folded it nicely, I can tell it’s been balled up more than once.
Dear Remi,
One day I hope you’ll understand that your freedom is worth more than anything.
I didn’t choose her.
I chose that. And I will never love anyone as much as I love you. I will find a way back to you.
Love,
Dad
“Oh, Remi, I’m so sorry.” My words feel so utterly inadequate, but they’re all I’ve got.
“Me, too. Clearly he was a piece of shit for leaving his family, but I wish I’d had the chance to get to know the real man behind all of the bullshit my mother’s taught me about him instead.”
He drops his head into his hands and groans.
“I’m so sorry, Remi.” I touch his shoulder and he stiffens and sits up straigh
t. My hand slides off his shoulder.
“Where’s your family?” His sudden change of subject catches me completely off guard. I stare at him blankly for a minute and he laughs. “You know... Paul, Bianca?”
I glance at the hands in my lap then back at him. His smile disappears when he sees my face.
“I knew it. Something’s wrong. What happened?”
“Nothing is wrong. Paul and I got a divorce. Bianca’s staying with him while I’m here. I’m bringing her down for a visit the week after next. If I’m still here.”
My answer is met with silence.
His eyes lose their slightly faraway look and focus intently on me.
His posture changes – he straightens and sits up.
The hunger that was there before is back and this time he’s not looking away. My throat is dry, and there’s a thrumming in my core that’s vibrant and strong.
I haven’t felt that sensation in years.
And oh, how I’ve missed it. But, I need to tamp it down. I’m not here for this. There’s so much to talk about.
“Remi, we shou—”
“You’re single?” he asks, his voice a low growl.
“Uh - yes,” I say, and my breath catches in my throat at the way he’s looking at me. He looks hungry. And like he wants to fuck me. My pussy clenches, and his eyes take a quick scan of me, he shifts closer.
“Do you still burn for me the way I burn for you, baby?” he asks.
A wave of lust hits me hard at the desperate catch in his gruff voice.
I nod, fast and hard.
He lunges across the couch and without preamble, or question, cups the back of my neck with one hand, cups my ass with the other and crashes his mouth down on mine. He presses his body flush to mine and the insistent press of his erection against my thigh is the most erotic thing I’ve felt in my entire life. Delicious, toe curling tension coils deep inside of me.
“Then, let’s do this before we say another word and ruin it.” He breathes into my mouth.
He’s panting like he’s just sprinted to catch me. He nibbles at my lips with his feverishly hot mouth; he bites his way down my neck and I arch my back so that my throat presses into his teeth.
I want to feel the bite of it.
I am burning. Around me, everything else catches fire, too.
I’ve forgotten why I’m here.
I don’t remember anything but how much I need him.
My lips go on their own exploration, I suck and lick his scruffy jaw and down the column of his neck, rubbing my nose in his hair, letting my senses learn him, absorb him again.
Enjoy him again. “You smell so good.”
He tugs at the hem of my turtleneck and I lift my arms over my head so he can yank it off. He cups one of my breasts through my tank top and squeezes before he lowers his head and sucks my throbbing, aching nipple into the hot pleasure palace of his mouth. I shout his name and reach down with desperate, grasping fingers to tug his shirt off, too.
I grip the hem of it and I pull, my fingernails scraping him at times until his shirt is over his head. The press of his warm, firm skin against my own now topless body is akin to relief. I run my hands greedily over his smooth skin.
“God, I’ve missed you.” He groans into my neck. He unbuttons my jeans, shoves them down my hips. I shove his sweatpants down and reach between us to wrap my hand around his thick cock. My fingers can’t close around it completely and I pulse in anticipation of having him inside me again. He slips his hand into my panties and cups my pussy. I grind against his palm and moan at how dizzying the pleasure is.
The voice of reason is telling me that I’m making a mistake. That this is the last thing I need to do given what he’s just told me. It’s nearly drowned out by my rebel heart’s shout of joy at how wonderful it feels to be in his arms.
Nearly…
“Wait,” I breathe.
“Shit, you’re so fucking wet,” he whispers against my ear.
“Remi, wait.” I let go of his cock and shift so his hand slides out from my panties.
He stiffens and pulls off me immediately and hovers over me. “What’s wrong?”
A bead of sweat falls from one of the curls that’s hanging on his forehead. It lands on my cheek. He leans down, his heat and breath as heady as the weight of him on me. He glides the tip of his tongue over the spot on my cheek where his sweat fell.
“Remi, this isn’t what I came for. I’m not ready,” I pant and press a hand to his chest. His hot eyes bore holes into me. He swoops down and gives me the most perfect kiss.
Not as perfect as the sweet friction of him sliding into my body would have been. But, it wouldn’t just be sex. Not to me. My feelings for him are right below the surface. I can’t afford to let them spill over.
So I sit up and pull my clothes on. “Let’s talk first.”
28
COMPLICATIONS
KAL
My stomach drops when I see the name on the screen of my ringing phone. I nearly decline the call, but I know that will only make things worse.
“Morning, Jules.” I grimace at the effort it takes to keep my voice natural, but I’m sweating bullets because I have already fucked-up my assignment.
I got here and forgot, immediately, why I was here in the first place. I actually got in to see Gigi Rivers, and I didn’t ask her a single fucking question except “Where can I find Remington?” Because apparently, my very neglected vagina usurped my brain the minute I thought we might be breathing the same air.
I stand up and head to the small front foyer of the house.
“Any updates?”
A door opens on the left side of the house. Remi must finally be awake. I step out into the already very warm morning. I make sure the door is shut and sit on the top step of the porch. I pray splinters don’t find a home in my bare thighs.
“None yet.”
“You’ve been there for two days.” She says sharply.
“Technically one.” I wince at how lame I sound.
“If you’re already speaking in technicalities, that means you’ve already made a mistake,” she accuses
“I haven’t made a mistake,” I lie through my teeth. Well, it’s not technically a lie. It’s so much more than a mistake.
“Kal, I’m not calling to argue with you.” She snaps.
“Jule—”
“Do you know Regan Landel née Wilde?”
Her question and the mention of Regan’s name completely startle me.
“Yes. Well, kind of…”
“She’s a rich, bored housewife who is also a failed journalist and is a sometimes gossip columnist,” she says without any judgment, like she’s reading from a list. She’s putting Regan into a context she can understand. Underestimating her in a way that I think a lot of people do. I feel like I should defend her, but that would only make things worse.
“Okay, so why are we talking about her, then?”
“Apparently, Regan was overheard telling someone that Remington Wilde is missing.”
“I don’t understand,” I mumble dumbly.
My plan from earlier goes up in a fiery blaze. How the hell did anyone overhear us?
“Neither do I, but you’re going to go and find out if the two are related. And if they are, you’re going to write a story about it.”
Surprise explodes inside of me and panic starts to build.
“Woah. No… That’s not the story I’m here to pursue. Wh — why would they be related?” My brain is moving at a thousand miles an hour as I try to figure how in the world she could have found out.
“Last time he was seen, he was leaving the hospital in the wee hours of the morning the day after Gigi Rivers was shot, but no one knows who he was there to visit. He was supposed to be the keynote speaker of an event the ACLU was holding and he didn’t show up. His family has declined to comment, but I have this bead on Regan. Find out everything you can about him.”
“What about the Rivers’ story?” My
voice comes out in a squeak, and I clear my throat. Holy Shit. This is a cluster.
“They’re related. I just know it. My inner bloodhound is on fire.”
She sounds more animated than I’ve ever heard her. My stomach sinks.
“If you can get this story, Kal, the job will be yours. People would die for a peek behind the curtain one of the country’s biggest families has draped themselves in. It’s catnip for our audience.” She is practically crowing.
“Okay. I’ll work on it today.” The contrasting lack of conviction in my voice is startling.
“Kal.” Jules’ voice takes on an uncharacteristic softness that’s as jarring as someone’s shout would be.
“Yes, Jules?” I ask tentatively when she doesn’t speak.
“I want you to do well. Right now though, I feel like I’m doing your job for you. I know you’re probably trying to find your feet and that you’ve got stuff going on at home. So, I’ll cut you some slack. But, just today.” Her voice loses the warmth that tinged it.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. I hate that I’m letting her down. She stuck her neck out for me. I know her credibility is on the line.
“I’ve just given you a substantial lead. I want the next one to come from you.” She pauses and waits for me to agree.
“Okay.” I know I sound lame, but right now, I don’t know what else to say that wouldn’t be a lie. I need to come clean.
“Get your head in the game. Slugman’s just as hungry as you are.”
“I know.” I feel like a thousand-pound weight has been strapped to my shoulders. “I’ll call you when I have something to tell you,” I promise and hang up before she can ask me another question.
I’m going to be sick. Why is this happening? This job was my chance. I glance back at the house. But, so was this…
What the fuck am I going to do? Is there a way to write this story without including Remi? Not only did I promise him not to share anything he told me about himself, I know he would never ever agree to letting me write it. He would be livid if he even thought I’d tricked the story out of him.
