Tied to His Betrayal

by Stacey Kennedy

  The tension in my chest stretches along my shoulders as I near the end of the hallway and see Allie waiting for me in her open doorway. Concern rests in her pinched brow; obviously, the article is stressing her out, too.

  “How is Taylor?” I ask when I reach her.

  Allie steps into the hallway and shuts the door behind her. “She’s being very quiet and you know what that means.”

  Yeah, I do. It means Taylor’s worried, and when that used to happen she typically clammed up. I fiddle with the keys in my pocket, deciding on my next steps.

  I don’t want to make things too personal with her. It’s why I asked her to meet me outside last night, instead of meeting her inside Allie’s condo. I don’t trust myself being alone with her. I’m already hanging on by a very thin thread to stop thinking about how badly I want her beneath me. But this matter is a private one, and the last thing I want is Taylor photographed again. “Please leave and let me handle this,” I say.

  “Now wait just a second,” Allie begins.

  I raise my hand, interjecting softly, “I know you want to help Taylor, but please let me do this.” Some things Allie can help her best friend with and some things she can’t. This happens to be something that lands in my territory.

  Allie gives me a good glare before she backs down. “Fine, but don’t make this messier than it already is.”

  As if I would. “That really doesn’t need to be said.”

  “Ah, yeah, it really does,” Allie shoots back, eyes narrowed. “She needs friends right now. That’s it.” She points at me. “Keep your hands off.”

  I frown. “Allison…”

  She turns and heads down the hallway, leaving me staring after her. Allie’s concern is well deserved and well warranted. I’m a danger to Taylor, and if she made one move toward me, I’d take her, because that’s what I do. I take what I want.

  I force the desire from my mind and know I need to keep this on point. No emotions, I tell myself, opening the front door, finding Taylor standing at the window, staring out into the early evening.

  My chest tightens further, nearly strangling the air out of me, my culpability increasing tenfold. Taylor doesn’t need this in her life right now. She deserves to have a safe place to get her life back on track, not the paparazzi hounding her.

  No matter how hard I try to stop it, I always find a way to hurt her. And I hate myself for that.

  I shut the door loudly, catching her attention, and she turns to me, expression thoughtful. There’s also pain in her eyes, unease for sure. All of which I understand. “Hi,” I say, removing my shoes, then approaching her.

  “Hi.” She gives me a soft smile, the setting sun casting a pinkish hue across her cheek. “I take it you’re here because of the magazine article?”

  I nod, stepping beside her, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Yes, of course that’s why I’m here. Are you okay?”

  Her eyes search mine a long moment before she heaves a heavy sigh, glancing back out the window, lost in her thoughts.

  I won’t rush her. Not now. Not ever.

  A full long minute goes by before she addresses me again. “I’m okay, just thinking. Now that they’re focusing on me, do you think they’re going to find out about Shawn?”

  I wondered the same thing. I also wouldn’t lie to her. “It is a concern.”

  Her brows draw together, mouth sets into a firm line. A look I’ve seen many times from her; she’s very, very worried. Taylor’s emotional, but also wonderfully logical. I can only imagine she’s trying to figure this all out while all I’m trying to do is figure out where her head is at. “Please tell me what you’re thinking?” I ask, as the silence continues.

  She remains quiet for so long I begin to think she’s not going to answer me. Then she does. “I’m thinking about how in the hell I’m going to tell my parents about all this, considering I told them the bruises came from a car accident.”

  I recoil at the coldness in her voice. My life did this to her. “They’ll understand, Taylor, and I can only imagine they will be proud of you for leaving.”

  Her shoulders lift and lower with a heavier sigh. “Yes, proud, I’m sure that’s exactly what they’ll be.”

  I want to see her eyes. I’m desperate to see the warmth in them. I reach for her, turning her to me. I don’t know the woman staring back at me. She’s so distant, so very far away. “They will be proud of you.”

  “Maybe,” she says, staring into my eyes the way only she can, holding my attention so forcefully I know nothing around me. “But I didn’t want them to know this.”

  “Then don’t tell him. They might never find out, anyway.”

  She considers the options then cocks her head. “Is that better, though? What if my secrets do come out and what if they find out what happened to me from a damn news article?”

  I nod, acknowledging her worries. “You’re right, that would be worse than if you were honest with them.”

  She sighs again, her exhaustion palpable. “I’m going to have to tell them…”—she rubs her hands over her face—“just not today, and not until I know exactly what I want to say so it doesn’t come out all jumbled. I don’t want this to upset my mother.”

  My stomach roils. Again and again it is because of me, my life, my wants and needs, that Taylor faces unhappiness. And in the moment she should only be thinking of herself, she worries how her mother will react. She’s just being Taylor, selfless. Christ, she astounds me. She’s so different than me.

  There’s so much I see in her eyes; so much emotion and love. But alongside it, I see deep-rooted concern, and I doubt it’s about her parents. Taylor carries the tension in her tight shoulders and her stillness, showing me that she’s far from comfortable about what to do next.

  “What else worries you?” Tell me so I can fix it, is what I want to say.

  She moves to the couch, legs touching the armrest, crossing her arms. “I can’t help but wonder who’s going to hire me now. Soon, all of San Francisco is going to know who I am. All they’re going to ask me in the interview is if I’m that girl with the famous Darius Bennett.”

  “In this case, I think it may actually help you,” I offer.

  “Help? How can this possibly help me?”

  “It’s great publicity.” Before she lashes out, which her glare tells me is imminent, I explain, “You could use this to your benefit. Pick a job that you would kill for and apply for it, telling them that your presence will draw attention to their business. It’s free advertising.”

  She stares at me for a good few seconds before shaking her head in disbelief. “Of course you find a way to take a negative and spin it.”

  I arch a brow at her. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”

  “It’s not necessarily bad”—she shrugs—“it’s just not the way I do things.”

  Which is why I’m the billionaire and she’s not. I’ll make deals with the Devil. “If you don’t want to go that route, I’m sure you still have nothing to worry about. Someone will hire you,” I reassure her. “You’re damn good at what you do.”

  “Thanks.” She smiles then slowly begins to relax, closing herself off to me and the conversation as she wraps her arms around herself. “Ugh, this is all just such a disaster.” She pushes off the couch and heads into the kitchen.

  I reach out and gently grab her wrist, and I like the intensity I see when she looks back at me. “Your staying with Shawn is a disaster,” I correct. “This, what you’re going through right now, is the end of a journey. It needs to end, and endings are never enjoyable, but it doesn’t mean you don’t have another beginning to look forward to.”

  “I guess you’re right.” She gives a weak smile.

  I brush the lines of that smile, hating seeing her so torn up. “I understand why you’re worrying about all this, but I won’t let them hurt you any more than they already have, Taylor.”

  She stares at me fiercely. “How are you going to stop them?”

  �
��That’s my worry, not yours. Believe me, they won’t capture another photo of us together. We won’t give them another story.”

  She heaves the longest sigh of the night. “There are some things even you can’t protect me from, Darius.”

  The desolate sound of Taylor’s voice chills me. There’s something more she’s hiding, I can sense it, and my instincts, personal and professional, are something I never doubt. But I can’t push her now. I know that.

  If I push now she’ll shut me out. It’s a careful dance with Taylor, and right now, I know she needs something else from me.

  I tug on her arm a little, bringing her close, more for me than for her. I wrap my arms around her, catching a whiff of her coconut-milk-scented shampoo and the sweet aroma that belongs only to her. She leans into me like she’s needed this hug for a long time, so I squeeze her a little tighter.

  Minutes go by.

  They are minutes that I do not count or will ever miss.

  Her fingers tighten on my T-shirt, pulling me even closer. “When did life get so messy?” she whispers, her head pressed against my chest.

  The day I told you to walk away from me.

  Instead of allowing my emotions to cloud my logic, I press my lips to the top of her head. “I’ll fix this, Taylor. I promise.”

  Taylor

  Sometime later, I accept the tea Darius makes for me and take a seat on the stool at the kitchen island. My head isn’t spinning like it was earlier, my thoughts are a little bit clearer now. Or maybe I’m just not as emotional, making things less of a big deal now than they were after I read the article. “So what now?” I ask Darius.

  He smiles, resting his arms against the countertop, leaning toward me. “We do whatever you want to do.”

  Yeah, that was kinda the hard part. I haven’t figured out what I want to do and how I want to handle this with my parents. I don’t want to upset my mom if it isn’t necessary, but I also don’t want them to find out what happened with Shawn through a tabloid magazine. “If the tabloid was to look into me further, how long do you think it’ll be before they find out about Shawn?”

  Darius considers, then shrugs. “That’s really hard to say. It depends on how much they want the information and how much they’ll pay to get it.”

  A more definite answer would have been better. I’m not ready to give up just yet. “But even with offering payment, unless someone came forward, it would take some time, I imagine.”

  He nods. “I would imagine so, yes.”

  I give that some thought and then finally decide. “Right now, I think I’m going to just sit on this. There’s no sense in making Mom all upset for nothing. If they begin digging deeper, then clearly I’m going to have to tell my parents.”

  Darius watches me a moment, then heaves a long sigh. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this at all. This is your personal business, and I’m sorry that you’re even worrying about this.”

  I smile gently. “It’s just my reality at the moment, and that’s okay.”

  I see the way he’s watching me, all focused and intense. He’s thinking. Hard. And I’m not at all surprised when he says, “I’m going to do what I can to ensure the paparazzi don’t dig any more than they already have.” Because that’s what Darius does; he fights to keep those he cares for safe.

  I snort a laugh, hugging my mug with my hands. “And just how are you going to do that?”

  One brow arches. “Again, that’s my problem, not yours.”

  “You do realize that’s not an answer? All that’s doing is telling me you have no idea what you’re going to do to stop them.”

  His eyes warm with his soft chuckle. “I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to deal with it, which I will.”

  Honestly, in the end, I don’t doubt him, even if I want more answers than he gives me now. When Darius sets his mind to something, he makes it happen. That’s just his reality.

  I raise the mug to my lips, taking a sip, tasting the sweet honey, just as he asks a question of his own. “But let’s talk about you and about your financial trouble.”

  I blink, frozen on the stool. “How do you know I’m having financial trouble?”

  “Because you were so worried about finding a job,” he says, never taking his eyes off me, leaning a little closer now. “That tells me money plays a factor in your troubles. It’s the only thing that you can’t control right now.”

  I take another sip of my tea. Instead of throttling him, considering a second ago I thought he had actually checked into my financial records, I hear him out.

  His eyes soften, as does his voice. “How much do you owe?”

  I swallow my tea and frown, seriously hating how observant he is sometimes. Or maybe even hating more that he reads me so well. It is a blessing and an annoying curse all at the same time. “That is seriously none of your business, Darius.”

  “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,” he objects, straightening to his full height, looking like the imposing man he is. “Right now, making all this better for you is certainly my business.”

  “And why is that?”

  He stares at me for a good few seconds before shaking his head, clearly in frustration. “You can’t honestly expect me to see you struggling like this, knowing full well I can easily help you, and then do nothing.” When I part my lips to further object, he adds with a deeper, much harder voice, “Stop being difficult. Life shouldn’t be this hard. Sometimes everyone needs a little help, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  I suppose that’s true, but there is a flaw to his theory. “When did you ever need anyone’s help?”

  His stare holds mine intensely, and I see I’m hitting a nerve. “You know very well that I’ve needed help in my life. It just looks different. I get my help from other businessmen for investments. It’s not so personal.”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” I declare. “This is personal to me. I can’t lean on you, Darius. I won’t lean on any guy again.”

  “Jesus Christ, Taylor,” he snaps, pushing off the counter, nostrils flaring. But when I look deep enough, I don’t see anger, I see frustration. I see only raw emotion when he adds, “I’m not like any other guy to you. I’m not like Shawn, and I’m not like the guy who went to jail.”

  “I know you’re not,” I whisper, seeing him trembling.

  He clenches his jaw, lowers his voice. “Do you not understand that this is fucking killing me?”

  I part my lips to respond, but my voice is stuck behind my shock. I see this isn’t about me, it’s about him. He needs to help me, and the fact that I’m not letting him is ripping him to pieces. But it’s more than that shocking me shitless; he’s showing me something I can’t believe…emotions. Frustration, anger…he’s always so cool, so collected, and I’m spiraling out of control at seeing him this way.

  He moves around the counter, eyes ablaze. “I let you go so you could find the life you deserve and for you to be happy.” His voice is deepening with each word, a vein protruding in his forehead. “I didn’t let you go to lose yourself and watch your life fall apart. If I wanted that, I would have kept you for myself.”

  I lower my mug to the counter, simply unable to hold it any longer.

  He takes another step toward me. “Five fucking years I’ve endured life without you because I hoped it would lead you to a better life. And it hasn’t.” He takes one more step, eyes narrowed on his target. Me. “Let me fix this, so your life can be what it should have been. A good one, without worries, without all this bad shit that you don’t fucking deserve.”

  I’m staring blankly at him, speechless, coming to terms with the fact that he’s admitting to the pain he feels being without me. That he’s showing me more than I ever thought he could show me. I’m seeing Darius beneath the shields, and my world is collapsing around me.

  Though now, with all this, and with the emotion raging in his eyes, I see everything so clearly. He thinks he betrayed me. He thinks he caused my misery. “What happened with
Shawn isn’t your fault,” I whisper.

  He arches a brow in rebuttal. “Then whose fault would it be, Taylor?”

  “Mine.”

  “No.” He snorts, voice dry, and I see the disdain he has for himself where it comes to my current situation. “This happened simply because you’re you and you love in the way you do. Somehow you always meet men who can’t love you in the way you deserve to be loved.”

  Of course he’s also talking about himself.

  My heart is reaching for him and softening in ways that I didn’t expect. No matter what, I can’t get swept away in the sweet things he says to me. It would be so easy to fall into those words and into his strength, but that will only leave me heartbroken. Because Darius is right—I always fall in love with men who can’t love me in the right way. And Darius is the king of those men. “I don’t need you to save me,” I tell him adamantly. But as his eyes flare with the determination only Darius possesses, my strength is faltering.

  He’s closing in on me, and every hair on my body rises as if commanded by him, every nerve ending awakens to the one man who owns me like no other.

  When he grabs my stool, yanking it out from beneath the island, I gasp, my nipples puckering. Two strong hands slide across my face, as he steps in between my spread legs. “This is not about saving you,” he almost growls. “I know you can save yourself.” He thrusts his fingers into my hair, gripping tight, and I can’t stop the shudder that storms over me. “This is about saving me. I got you into this mess. Goddamn it, let me get you out of it. Let me make you feel better, if not for you, for me.”

  His touch…his strength…my hero…God, he’s just so much, so intense, so everything.

  There’s just me and him, and all the things he’s offering me. There’s nothing bad, no one pushing me one way or another. There’s just a man, begging for me to let him help me.

  And I decide right then and there that there is a way for him to help me.

  My lips meet his, and just like a switch that’s flipped by him, all my barriers crash and burn around me, as his lips, his touch, all of him, brings me back to me.