The Secret (Arranged Book 2)

by Stella Gray

  Before I could respond, another text popped up. WE MISS YOOOOOOOU!! It was from Lila. After that, a series of heart, flower, and book emojis appeared from Diane’s number.

  I couldn’t help smiling. That’s ex-Latin tutor to you, Gavin, I replied. And I miss you all, too. Just trying to play catchup on my assignments at home. This semester’s whooping my ass.

  OMG me 2, Audrey texted. Midterms were not kind. I need to seriously ROCK my finals.

  After reassuring them all that I’d be back as soon as possible, I went back to the kitchen to warm up the dinner rolls that Gretna had made. The crusty homemade bread smelled so good, I couldn’t help dipping one of the rolls in the wine sauce and eating it as an appetizer.

  I was just setting the table in the dining room when I heard a key turn in the lock. Dropping the silverware in my hand, I ran to meet my husband.

  Stefan was taking off his shoes in the foyer, and I could barely stand to wait for him to shrug out of his coat and put his laptop bag down.

  “I need to tell you something,” I blurted, just as he was unbuttoning his shirt cuff and rolling it up. “I met Irina.”

  He froze. He’d been looking down at his sleeve, but when he lifted his head, I was startled by what I saw.

  I honestly hadn’t expected much of a reaction. Stefan was excellent at hiding his emotions. At hiding everything. I figured he’d be surprised that I’d met someone from his private circle, but the expression on his face was one of shock, and…what almost looked like fear.

  “Irina?” he said slowly. “I’m not sure who that is.”

  He was obviously lying, but I wasn’t going to play that game. I kept my gaze focused on his face—needing, wanting the truth.

  “You know her,” I told him. “She showed up at the coffee house where I’ve been studying all week and told me she wanted me to give you a message. Though I guess if you’re the wrong Stefan, I shouldn’t tell you what it is.”

  I gazed levelly at him, noting the way his mouth twitched. He knew he was caught.

  “Tell me what the message is,” he finally said.

  Nodding my head, I relayed it. “She wanted you to know that everything worked out. She said she couldn’t get word to you anymore, but she was very grateful. She also said that you’re a good man. And that I was a lucky woman.”

  “Hmm,” is all he said in response.

  I watched his face very closely as I said, “Is this—did you have a relationship with her?”

  There. That got a reaction from him.

  “We’ve been over this before,” Stefan said, blatantly annoyed. “As difficult as it is for you to believe this, I haven’t been unfaithful.”

  But he wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  If he hadn’t been cheating on me, what was he trying to hide?

  “Is that dinner I smell?” he said, attempting to change the subject.

  As he walked out of the foyer and into the living room, I trailed behind him, refusing to play along, to just let the whole thing drop.

  “Who is she?” I prodded. “And what’s the meaning of that message I was supposed to give you? What did you do for her?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stefan said, sitting down at the table when he reached the dining room and settling his features back into their usual icy solemnity.

  Why the obfuscation? He knew exactly what I was talking about. Asking me what the message was had clearly shown me his hand. On top of that, I had seen the mix of emotions that had played out on his face, even if it had lasted only a few seconds. He was involved with her, somehow. There was no denying it.

  “Don’t lie to me,” I told him. “I know you know who Irina is. What’s this all about?”

  “It’s not your concern,” he said. His stock reply. “Now sit and eat.”

  I didn’t budge from the doorway.

  “It is my concern. You’re my fucking husband! Irina approached me. She found me, Stefan. How many more women are going to bring me strange messages for you? How many more are going to give me secret information to deliver?”

  “It won’t happen again,” he said. “And you’re going to let it drop. Now.”

  “How does this not put me in even more danger than I’m already in?” I asked. “Everyone is spying on me.”

  “You’re being paranoid.”

  “Says the man who told me himself that this world is dangerous and that I had to let him take care of me?” I goaded. “Well, you’re doing a bang-up job of that, aren’t you?”

  Rather than engage with my fury, Stefan ignored it, setting a steaming hot roll on his bread and butter plate and then one on mine. “Can you pass the butter, please?”

  He was gaslighting me. Again. But I wasn’t going to just stand there and let it slide.

  “If I’m yours and no one else’s,” I said, throwing his own recent words back in his face, “then doesn’t that mean that you’re also mine? Doesn’t that mean I’m entitled to know what the fuck you’re doing with these mysterious women all the time?”

  I was breathing hard, furious and running low on patience, but Stefan was just gazing at me impassively. He casually poured himself a glass of water. It only infuriated me more.

  “Why won’t you talk to me?” I pushed.

  Stefan stood and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re obviously not ready to sit down for dinner,” he said. “Just let me know when you are. I’ll be in my office until then.”

  Having completely blown me off, he picked up his glass and walked out of the room.

  I stared after him, ready to blow a fuse. His behavior was maddening. And I hated when he walked away from me. Hated it more than anything when he ignored me like this, completely disregarding my questions and feelings, as if running away from his wife when things got tough was a perfectly acceptable method of conflict resolution.

  Following Stefan back through the foyer, down the hall, and into his office, I said, “Tell me. Tell me and I’ll never ask about her again.”

  “What do you want me to say?” he asked, glancing up from his desk chair.

  “I don’t want you to say anything. I want you to tell me the truth,” I said.

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  He turned back toward the desk, opening his laptop.

  “Why are you acting like this? I don’t understand why you won’t confide in me. I already know so much. I’m already in danger. Why not just lay it all out on the table?”

  “We’re not having this discussion right now,” he said, tapping away at his computer.

  Folding my arms, I said, “Then when are we having it? The secrets and the lying and the women are too much. I can’t take any more.”

  “Remember what curiosity did to the cat,” he reminded me. “We’re done here.”

  I was livid. But fine. If that was how he wanted to play the game, I was more than ready to play. It was time to pull out the big guns.

  “You lied to me before, didn’t you?” I practically spat. “She is your mistress. Did she terminate a pregnancy? Is that what “all worked out”?

  He froze, his shoulders tensing as if I had thrown something at him.

  “Tori—”

  “And I bet you paid for it,” I went on. “That’s why she was so grateful.”

  I wasn’t completely convinced what I was saying was true—not at all convinced, actually—but I was trying to get a rise out of him. Get him to react. Back him into a corner, so he’d have to tell me something true in order to prove that my accusations were false.

  “You think you know everything, but the reality is, you’re completely in the dark.”

  He stood up from his chair, closing the gap between us, his eyes blazing with anger.

  “So enlighten me,” I said, as calmly and slowly as I could manage.

  “You know nothing about what’s really going on here. Not everything is as it seems.”

  “Then talk to me. I’m on your team.”

  I wanted to gi
ve him another chance. Wanted him to understand that I could help him, that I was here for him if only he’d let me be.

  “I’ll say this one more time. It’s not. Your. Concern,” he said through gritted teeth.

  And then he stood, and in two strides, he was in front of me. Without warning, he grabbed the front of my sweater, fisting the fabric in his fingers and pulling me hard against him. His mouth came crashing down on mine. Brutal. Intense. Perfect.

  He kissed me as if he owned me, and I couldn’t resist. I never could resist him.

  As I kissed him back, I put my whole heart and soul into it. I wanted to show him that I was on his side, that we wanted the same things. He had to realize that he could trust me—that he could tell me the truth. About Irina. About KZM. About everything. I could be exactly the wife he wanted me to be, if only he would let me in.

  “Stefan,” I moaned.

  His mouth plundered mine, cutting off my words, his hands rough on my body. I knew he was winning, that our conversation was effectively over for the time being. And I also knew that there was a good chance he was doing this on purpose.

  Did he kiss me this way to distract me, to hide the truth from me? Maybe the brutal way he treated me in bed wasn’t what it seemed, either. Maybe his crudeness was a disguise for passion, a way to avoid the inherent risks of intimacy, a way to keep his true feelings buried. Knowing what I did about Stefan, it all made sense. That he would keep something vulnerable and tender protected by a coarse exterior. Did he feel more for me than I realized?

  He had just told me that not everything was as it seemed. Was he only alluding to the situation with Irina, with all the models, or did he mean his behavior in the bedroom as well?

  I didn’t know what to think or how to feel as his hands gripped the back of my head, his fingers tight in my hair, forcing my head back as his tongue fucked my mouth. His hips were pressed hard against mine, and I could feel his cock, hard and throbbing against my hip.

  There was no denying he wanted me—and I wanted him too. I couldn’t pretend otherwise. The connection we had was so strong, the sex we had was so affirming, that I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to say no to him. I was already wet as we grappled against the doorway of his office, ready and willing to do whatever he commanded of me. But even though I couldn’t control the way my body felt toward him, I could still hear the voice in my head telling me that he was using sex as a way to hide something.

  That all of this was an act, part of his master plan.

  But regardless of his ulterior motives, I wouldn’t stop kissing him.

  Scooping my ass into his hands, he lifted me against him, my legs wrapping around his waist. As I moaned softly into his mouth, losing myself in his kisses, he began walking us down the hall and toward the bedroom.

  “I need you, Tori,” he growled.

  Never had I heard him say those words to me before. I was incredibly turned on, but I also felt powerful. If he could admit that he needed me sexually, maybe it was only a matter of time before he realized that he needed me in other ways. Emotionally, yes, but also as an intellectual partner. A life partner.

  But as he carried me over the threshold into our room, throwing me down on the bed with anger and force, I knew that I couldn’t just let him get away with this. As much as I wanted to lose myself in pleasure, to let him dominate my body, to take out all my stress and anger and betrayal on his cock, I had to get him to tell me about Irina. About all the women like her.

  It wasn’t easy to focus with the way he hungrily made his way up my body, pressing hot, hard, biting kisses against my skin as he began to tug my clothes off me. My body screamed out for his touch, for the release I knew would be coming if I let him continue. He pulled my jeans down to my ankles and shoved my sweater up and over my head, leaving it there so it covered my face and left me in the dark, as if I was blindfolded.

  I panted, unable to see him, only to feel his mouth, his skin, the heat of his breath. My nipples were aching from the kisses he left there, nipping and licking through the sheer lace of my bra with his tongue. I thrashed beneath him as he pinned my wrists over my head, wanting him so badly that I could barely maintain focus on the questions still burning in my mind.

  That was how I knew I needed him to stop. Because if I let him continue to distract me with sex, then I’d never know the truth. I’d never learn who my husband really was, and what he was truly capable of.

  And there was no way I could live with that.

  Tori

  Chapter 22

  Stefan finished pulling my jeans off, leaving me in my lacy thong underwear, and then tugged off the sweater that had been covering my face and my skimpy bra. Even though my body didn’t want him to stop, I knew as I lay there panting that I had to stop this before it went too far—and I was too mindless with pleasure to get the answers I needed. We’d gone down this path far too often. It had taken my husband no time at all to figure out that all he had to do to stop me from asking dangerous questions and pushing him for information was to kiss me until I swooned and then carry me off to bed.

  But this contact with Irina had changed everything. Whatever was going on, it was clearly much more complicated than I had initially realized. And I couldn’t let Stefan keep me in the dark any longer. This was my life. This was our life.

  It wasn’t just about KZM and these women and what the extent of my husband’s involvement with both of those things were. I needed to know if I could trust him. If he really was a good man. The ambiguity was just too much.

  So as much as I wanted to give in to him, as much as I reveled in the thought of total surrender, I pulled my wrists from his grasp, put a hand on his chest, and said, “Wait.”

  He pulled back immediately. I was still pinned beneath him, and he was still in control. But he cared about me, too. This wasn’t just about what he wanted in the heat of the moment.

  “Are you okay? Am I hurting you?”

  I shook my head no, and he gently cupped my cheek.

  “I just…I need some answers first,” I told him, even as my hips arched up against him.

  He climbed off me and I felt my heart sink. I scrambled to my knees and grabbed his shirt, pulling him back before he could get off the bed.

  “Give me something, Stefan,” I begged him. “I’ve given myself to you over and over. Please, just…” I struggled to find the words. “Give me something I can hold onto in return.”

  He looked at me, and I saw the conflict warring in his eyes. And then his features softened in a way I’d never seen before. His hand came up to cup my face again, his thumb stroking my cheek so gently it made me shiver.

  “Hold onto this, Tori,” he said.

  Then he leaned down and kissed me. Once, twice, three times, so soft it made my chest ache, the touch of his lips against mine more tender than it had ever been.

  I let out a shuddering breath and our eyes locked.

  “Stefan,” I whispered. “I—”

  He swept his lips over my own, this kiss more passionate, and when I opened my mouth to let him in deeper his tongue stroked perfectly against mine, the taste of him like a drug I couldn’t get enough of. He had never kissed me so tenderly, had never touched me like this before—like he was trying to hold onto me. His hand moved from my cheek to the back of my head, his fingers weaving into my hair, forcing my head back so I could take more of his tongue. He was taking his time, drawing quiet moans out of me, making the whole world disappear. It was as if he was kissing the very essence of my soul.

  I curled my hands tightly into his shirt, pulling him closer. This was what I wanted. This was what I needed. I couldn’t believe he could be this way with me. Already, I felt closer to him. I never wanted him to stop touching me.

  Slowly, languidly, he slid his hands down my back, then around my waist, up toward my breasts. They fit perfectly in his hands. He palmed them gently before circling my nipples with his thumbs, teasing them until they were hard and aching. Then he lower
ed his head and took one into his mouth. The sensations were overwhelming. I could feel myself shivering. He dragged his teeth along the hard ridge of one nipple and then the other, lavishing them with a focused intensity that had me panting. As he sucked one nipple, his fingers would tweak and twist the other. The combination of pleasure and just the right amount of pain had my hips arching off the bed, the rest of my body begging for the same attention.

  I was wet and aching for him, desperate for his touch, for his cock, but he seemed to be in no rush. He was going to take his time with me tonight and there was nothing I could do about it.

  Finally, his hands slid down my hips, finding my thong. Then he hooked his fingers into the waistband and my whole body tensed with anticipation, expecting him to revert to his usual routine—driven by rough, pure, animal lust—and rip it right off of me.

  But he hesitated. I was confused for a split second until the realization dawned on me that what was happening between us now was different than it had ever been.

  My pulse quickened as Stefan slid my panties off slowly, carefully, delicately. I arched my back and closed my eyes, savoring it. He was doing exactly what he had said—giving me something to hold on to. Something to trust.

  I felt his passion, his desire, his care with every kiss, every touch, every stroke.

  I loved that he was still fully dressed, except for his bare feet. He leaned over me, gripping my hips with his warm, strong hands, and dragging me forward so my ass was right at the edge of the bed. Then he spread my legs wide, opening me up. I could feel how hot and wet I was in the cool air of our bedroom. I was ready. I wanted his cock inside of me. I wanted him to take me fast and hard, but instead he pushed my knees wider and pressed hot, burning kisses along the insides of my ankles before moving up my calves, then over my knees, slowly but deliberately trailing closer and closer toward my pussy.

  I was gasping for air, my breaths turning short and shallow. He didn’t quicken his pace.

  The tension was so much that when he finally kissed the soft skin on my inner thigh, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I was so eager for his mouth. For his tongue.