by Sienna Blake
Wylie shakes his head. “He hasn’t left the property I can assure you.”
“So where is he?”
“It’s the anniversary today… He’s never been here before during the anniversary…”
“Anniversary of what?”
“I’m sorry, but it’s not my place to say. Don’t worry about it, madam. I’ll take care of it. Just go back to your room and stay there until I tell you.”
“But−”
“Just do it. You don’t need to see this.”
I frown, but Wylie won’t answer any more questions. He just shoos me out of the kitchen.
What anniversary? What’s going on? Whatever it is, Wylie knows. Like hell I’m staying in my room.
After I leave the kitchen I don’t go back to my room as I was instructed. I hide behind a nearby corner. I follow silently as Wylie abandons his coffee and returns to his room. He reappears several minutes later, dressed hurriedly, his shirt askew, and he doesn’t have his usual jacket on. He strides through the mansion. It isn’t lost on me that I’m following someone yet again. Surely I’m getting good at this.
Despite my thudding heart and my head burning with questions, I remain patient on the surface. I creep along without making a sound and I’m careful not to leave my hiding place until I’m sure Wylie won’t suddenly stop and turn to catch me. As he walks I mentally map out where we are in the mansion.
He climbs the stairs to the second floor. His stride is hurried and purposeful, on the border of breaking into a jog. He’s in a rush. I can feel the anxiety rolling off him as he hurries through the mansion and it infects me with its jittery tension. My shoulders tighten to my ears. Where is he going? Where is Caden? And what did Wylie mean when he said he’d “take care of it”?
I peer around the corner. Wylie is moving towards Caden’s room. But Caden’s not there. Then I remember all the secret passageways and hidden rooms of this house, most of which I don’t know about. Caden must be in one of those secret spaces. But where? And why?
When Wylie walks past Caden’s bedroom door I frown. He’s not going to Caden’s bedroom. Where is he going then?
He goes all the way down the hall and stops at a closed door. I recognize this door. This is the locked room. Oh my God.
My breath catches. The locked room. What is this room? And is Caden inside?
Wylie tests the door. It’s still locked. He slides a hand in his pants pocket and pulls out a key. My eyes widen and my breath catches as Wylie slides the key in the lock and turns it. The door opens and Wylie steps in. For a moment I see the pale blue of the inside wall before Wylie shuts the door. I don’t hear it lock.
I have to get in there.
I race to the door, not bothering now to silence my footsteps. My breath is coming out in short bursts, not from exertion but from the rush of adrenaline that is running through my body. What’s inside this room? Why is it the only room that’s kept locked? What has happened to Caden? My hand trembles as I raise it to the handle. I push open the door and step inside.
Holy shit.
It’s a child’s bedroom, pale blue walls with white fluffy painted clouds. In a corner is a small bed with matching pale blue bedding. In a corner there is pile of toys on a table that have spilled over onto the floor. And there, on the floor beside the cot is Wylie kneeling down next to Caden, sprawled out on his front clothed only in dark pants, his naked back on display. His back is glorious, thick and muscled and wide. But I don’t have time to dwell on this forbidden sight. The air in here stinks sharply of alcohol. I see the half-empty bottles of scotch around him and the carpet around his chest stained with blood. To one side is a knife, the edge glistening with red.
Oh my God.
Please. He can’t be dead.
Wylie snaps his head back towards me. “Madam, you shouldn’t be here.”
I barely hear him. I’m staring at Caden. He’s all I can see, his body that I love so much, lifeless. His eyes closed. His mouth open and his cheek pressed against the carpet.
Wylie stands and grabs my arm, pulling me out of my trance. “You have to leave. He wouldn’t want you to see him like this.” Wylie’s face is grim, his lips have almost disappeared, pressed together too hard. And his eyes reflect a deep sadness.
“Is he…” My voice trails off as my throat closes up like someone is choking me. He can’t be dead. Surely. And who did this to him?
There’s a moan from Caden and we both look over. I almost fall to the ground, my knees weakening with relief. Thank God. He’s alive.
“Caden,” I cry, and I move towards him, but Wylie pulls me back.
I yank my arm away from Wylie and glare at him. “I’m not leaving him. He’s hurt. I’m helping. You’re just wasting your time if you try to argue with me. There’s nothing you can do to make me leave.”
Wylie sighs and nods. “I just need to warn you. The master won’t like you being here.”
“Then blame me. I’m not going.”
Wylie gives me a small weary smile. “You are as stubborn as he is.”
I fall to Caden’s side. My hands shake as I brush the hair from his forehead. His eyes are still closed.
Wylie drops to Caden’s other side. “Help me roll him aside. I need to check the wound.”
I tuck my hands around Caden’s hip and under his arm. His skin is smooth and he’s warm to my touch. Under my palms I can feel the thick muscles of his lats and the curve of his hard abdominal muscles. I realize this is the first time I’ve ever touched him there. The first time I have felt his hard, thick body. If I wasn’t so terrified for his life, perhaps I would have enjoyed this forbidden moment a little more.
Wylie pushes and I pull so that Caden rolls to his side with his back towards me. His body is heavy, made worse by the fact that he is completely limp. I can’t imagine how Wylie expected that he would do this on his own. As we hold Caden on his side, Wylie stares at his chest and breathes a small sigh. “It’s just a shallow wound. He’ll be fine.”
“Then why isn’t he waking? What about all this blood?”
Wylie wrinkles up his nose. “Undoubtedly it has something to do with the missing scotch in those bottles and the fact that his breath smells like a distillery.”
Caden’s just drunk. He’s passed out. And the alcohol has thinned his blood, making him bleed more. But he’s going to be fine. He’s going to be fine. We lower him back to the ground.
“Help me get him to his room,” Wylie says.
I run to the bed and yank the bed cover off.
“What are you doing?” Wylie exclaims behind me.
“We can roll him onto the blanket and slide him to the room.”
When I turn Wylie is gaping at me in horror. “We can’t disturb this−”
“He’s already disturbed the room by bleeding all over the carpet. And we can’t carry him all the way to his room.” I raise my eyebrow at Wylie. “Unless you happen to be wearing an S under that shirt.”
Wylie frowns. “I beg your pardon?”
“Superman.” I say and wait for Wylie to get the reference.
Nothing.
“Wears an S on his chest under his normal clothes.”
Still nothing.
“Superman being the comic superhero who’s really really strong… Never mind.” I flick out the bedcover so that it falls alongside Caden. “I’ll pull, you push again and we’ll roll him onto the blanket and slide him along.”
“But the blanket−”
“Do you have any better ideas?”
I kneel by Caden and slide my hands around his side again. Wylie hasn’t moved. “What the hell are you waiting for?”
Wylie looks like he wants to say something but… He nods and slips his hands under Caden’s hip and shoulder as well.
“Ready and… go.”
We push and pull. My muscles strain until we finally get him up to his side again. I shuffle back and we tilt him over, letting gravity do the rest. He rolls to his back.
&nb
sp; The front of his chest glares red with congealing blood. I can see his thick shapely arms splayed out beside him. I can see his chiseled abdominal muscles rippling down into his pants. Across his heart there is a wound, a slice that runs on an angle from top left under his shoulder that has coated his chest with blood. Even so, I can tell he has a defined and hard chest. But there’s something under all that blood… there’s something…
I kneel down to him. Before I can see any more, Wylie clamps down Caden’s discarded shirt across his chest. I know it wasn’t to stop the bleeding, it was to stop me from seeing any more.
Wylie stands and gives me a look. “Let’s go.”
I don’t argue. As much as my stomach is burning with curiosity, as much as I’m dying to pull that shirt off his chest and take a proper look, getting Caden to his room and cleaning him up is the priority.
Wylie and I grab a corner of the blanket each and we drag him across the room. The carpet is causing friction, making it hard to pull him across. We do so in synchronized bursts. Caden groans softly with every jerk.
“I’m sorry, Caden,” I whisper down to him.
I look back and my heart squeezes when I see the pool of blood left behind from where he was laying. It looks so stark and disturbing in this child’s room.
Finally we pull him onto the marbled corridor floor and it becomes easier to pull him along. Slowly but surely we move down the hall towards his room. He feels like he’s getting heavier as we go. We stop so I can adjust my grip.
“Have you ever had to do this before?” I ask.
“No. He has always gotten as far away from here as possible this time of year.”
“What’s different about this year?”
He gives me a sad look. “It’s not your fault, madam. Don’t blame yourself.”
I realize. “Me. I’m here. I’m why he stayed here.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I kick open the door to Caden’s bedroom. The flooring changes from marble to carpet and we have to tug him in bursts again. By this stage my hands are hurting from gripping the blanket and I can feel a dull burn in my biceps. Finally we get him by the bed. I stare at Caden and then at the mattress, about thigh high, and wonder how the hell we’re going to get him up there.
We struggle for several minutes as we pull and push his body onto the bed, one heavy limb at a time. By the time we are done, both Wylie and I are exhausted and stained with Caden’s blood. Caden is sprawled at an angle.
“Caden keeps a first aid kit in his ensuite cupboard. I’m just going to get it,” Wylie says.
I nod as I sit myself beside Caden on the small space next to him on the bed. Behind me I hear Wylie’s footsteps as he pads into the ensuite and the sound of opening drawers.
I stare down at Caden. His face is paler than usual, his thick lips whiter. Stubble is growing on his cheeks and jaw. He moans and swallows, sending his Adam’s apple bobbing along the golden skin of his neck. His rounded shoulders turn into sculpted biceps and thick forearms. The stained wet t-shirt is still obscuring his chest, but I can see that the sides of his wide torso are pebbled with muscle. He has a perfect six pack and the top of the V muscles on his hips disappear into his pants.
You can touch me, but I can’t touch you.
Dear God, do I ache to run my finger over every hard bump. Do I dare? I reach my hand out to his stomach.
“Move aside,” Wylie says from behind me, making me jump. He’s holding a small first aid kit in his hands.
I reach for it. “I can do it. I was training to become a nurse.”
“Absolutely not. You shouldn’t even still be here.”
I shouldn’t be here. Wylie keeps saying that. And it’s starting to make me mad. “Where else should I be, huh? I love him, I should be here. He’s hurt and he needs me.” I gasp. I just said that I love him. Out loud. I’ve never said those words before out loud.
I hear a mumble to my left. I snap back to the bed where Caden’s eyelashes are fluttering. Oh God. Did he hear me?
Then he opens his eyes, his pupils rolling around the room until they come to rest upon me, his confusion evident. “Kitten?”
Hearing his voice causes a smile to burst from me. “You’re awake.”
Caden looks down to his body and his face turns to stone and he pales. He suddenly seems alert. His eyes snap back to mine and to my horror, they’re now filled with anger. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“W-what?”
He directs his glares towards Wylie over my shoulder. “Get her out of here. Now.”
“But Caden, I−” I reach down to him.
“Don’t touch me.” He bats my hands away and I stumble back into Wylie. Caden then pulls his arms to his chest and clutches the t-shirt to his body. “Get her out. Get her out.”
I swear I can hear my heart shattering. It pierces the space in my chest with shards. My brain thickens like someone has poured tar into it and I’m frozen, like I no longer control my body. I don’t say anything as Wylie puts down the first aid kit and places his hands on my arm. He leads me gently across the room to the door. I can barely hear Caden yelling in the background for me to leave him alone. I don’t resist.
I find myself in the hallway outside his door. Wylie lets go of my arm. “I’m sorry, madam. I feared he would have a bad reaction.”
I say nothing back. I can see the pity in Wylie’s eyes as he looks at me, and it cuts me.
“Try not to worry. I’ll let you know when the master calms down. Maybe he will let you see him later.”
He backs into the room and closes the door. I hear the lock click. I’m left out there alone.
Maybe he will let you see him later.
I slump forward onto the door. I feel helpless. And so hurt. I’ve been locked out. Again.
My insides crumple and I buckle at the waist. I clutch my stomach as the first wave of pain roars up turning into tears that tumble from my eyes.
Part of me hurts for me. I just admitted that I loved him. And I was rejected so completely. He doesn’t want me near him. He made that clear.
The other part hurts for Caden. I understand that under his secrecy and his anger lies a broken man and a terrible, terrible story. One that I’m not sure whether I want to know anymore.
An hour or two later I’m slumped on the floor against the wall, staring at Caden’s door. I’m tired from my restless sleep last night, and emotionally I’m exhausted from the full gamut of emotions that I have run through in the last few hours.
I hear the door unlocking and I straighten up. Wylie steps out. “Madam, you can… What are you doing on the floor?”
“Waiting.”
He tskes. “You should have gotten a chair. Or I could have gotten you one.”
“You were busy.” He holds out a hand to help me up. “Is he… okay?”
Wylie nods. “He’s in a better mood.”
“I meant, his wound.”
Wylie gives me a wry smile. “He’ll live. You can go in to see him now. He’s asking for you.” Wylie steps aside from the partially open door.
“Okay.” I stare at the gap in the door and don’t move. I can’t see Caden from this angle, just the left edge of the bed.
“Are you okay?” Wylie asks.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“If I can be so bold…” Wylie says, causing me to pause. “Yelling at you like he did was an extremely ungentlemanly thing to do. He has his reasons for being the way he is, but that was unacceptable. I have already expressed my… displeasure at his vulgar behavior. But I think it would be good for him to hear the same from you.” Wylie clears his throat. “Give him hell, madam.”
I will, Wylie. I will.
Chapter Thirty
I close Caden’s door behind me and lean against it. Caden’s sitting up in his bed, propped up by a mound of pillows behind him. He’s wearing a dark blue shirt half unbuttoned, the part of his chest showing from underneath is bandaged.
He’s watching me.
Even from here I can see the mournful look in his eyes and the way his chin sinks towards his chest like it’s being weighed down. I gather myself and walk towards him.
“Kitten, I−”
“Stop.” I hold up a hand as I stand beside his bed. “I have a few things to say to you first.”
He closes his mouth and nods. “Are you going to sit down?” He indicates the spot on the edge of the bed next to him.
“Are you going to push me away again?”
His cheeks color. “I deserve that.”
“Yeah, you do.”
“I’m so−”
“You can apologize after I’ve said my piece.”
He makes a hand signal indicating a key locking his mouth.
I take a deep breath and start. “You asked me to be patient with you. So I’m being patient. But there’s a limit to my patience. And you almost pushed me to it today. I didn’t deserve to be yelled at like that. I didn’t deserve to be pushed away. If you ever do that again, I will leave. And this time, you’ll never find me. Is that clear?”
“I know. I’m so sorry, kitten. Oh God, you have no idea how sorry I am.” He palms his eyes and I wonder if it’s moisture that he’s rubbing away.
“I know that there’s a reason you have your rules. I know that behind that reason is something… painful for you.” I move to sit next to him and he reaches to grasp my hands. “I understand that you reacted the way you did because of this painful past. Maybe one day you’ll trust me enough to tell me.”
He brings them to his face and brushes my fingers against his cheek, then he kisses all of my knuckles. “Did I hurt you?”
I smile and shake my head. “Takes more than a little push to hurt me. I’ve been worried about you. Since yesterday with the flowers.”
He pauses and his large hands flinch around my hands. He inhales deeply with his eyes closed. Then he opens them and there’s a fresh resolve in them. “I… I had a daughter.”
I swear my heart stops. “A daughter? That’s the girl in the photo you carry in your wallet?”
