by Cecy Robson
Although we’ve spoken briefly, this is the first time I’ve seen her since I left our bed yesterday around dawn.
“It’s almost midnight,” she tells me quietly. “I didn’t want to go another day without seeing you.”
I don’t reply, too fixated on her words and how much I fucking miss her. Regardless, of my commitment to her and our relationship, the strain Bryant caused remains.
I never expected the tension between us to vanish all at once, nor did I count on it to surge. Yet there it is, worsening with each breath that passes between us.
Wren moves with a confidence most women lack, and can only dream of. As I watch, it’s noticeably absent, understandable considering—
Fuck.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, wanting to forget everything I saw. Even as my heart shattered, I wanted to believe her love was real and that she hadn’t used me, and what she did was a mistake committed in her youth out of desperation. But in learning she knew nothing about it, and exactly what he did to her, I can’t forget.
My hands slap against the edges of my desk as I push away from it. I want to rise and meet her, but the weight of my anger keeps me in place.
I love Wren, her honest and outrageous way of speaking, her endearing demeanor with others, and how I knew the first time she smiled, no other woman would ever compare.
It’s this love that fuels my rage and keeps me from sharing my news.
I’m not a particularly violent man. While I’ve had my share of fights and outbursts in school, I’ve learned to rely on my intelligence to win my battles and dismantle my adversaries. Yet when Wren told me what this bastard did to her, my first instinct was to find Bryant and kill him.
Death is something I’ve never wished on anyone, let alone by my hands. The thought should terrify an educated man like me. But the one and only thing that scares me, is any harm coming to Wren.
“What are you thinking?” she asks.
I barely registered her edging forward. Yet here she is.
I meet the face that mesmerizes me and soothes my soul as effortlessly as my heart beats. “That the world can take my company, my money, and my health, but you’re the one thing I can’t live without.”
I pull her onto my lap when her expression crumbles, wishing I can stop the pain she feels.
She links her arms around my neck, whispering against my cheek. “I really needed to hear you say that.”
My tone is heavy, the residual anger tainting it regardless of how good it feels to have her close. “I can’t forget what happened,” I confess, wishing I could tell her otherwise.
“I know,” she says, glancing in the direction of the wall of windows where only darkness waits. “I’d give anything to erase what you saw.”
“That’s not what I mean,” I interrupt. My palm falls to her hip. “I can’t forget how he exploited your innocence and how badly he hurt you.”
“You think I’m innocent?” Her gaze skims to my chest. “After everything we’ve done?”
I lift her chin with my thumb and kiss her gently. “Your kindness and dedication to those around you, and the way you care for me and them comes from a pure place. If that doesn’t make you innocent from harm or malicious intent, I can’t imagine what does.”
“You’re all sorts of sweet,” she tells me quietly.
“I mean it. But there’s something I need to remind you of so we can move on.”
She stills, waiting it seems for my final judgment to pass. Perhaps it’s what she’s used to. But an unkind word or thought will never come from me again.
“I love you,” I rasp.
Her eyes shut as if in pain. My lips skim hers from side to side, the depth of my love trickling with each pass.
“I love you,” I say again, pulling her closer, speaking low into her ear. “Just as I know you love me.”
Her head falls forward and onto my shoulder, heavy from the burden she carried for too long. She’s fighting not to cry. I can tell by how harsh her breaths come.
I hold her, refusing to let her go.
I never want to let her go.
Time slips by, in seconds, then minutes, then more. We let it, allowing this moment to heal as much as it can.
She lifts her head when I trail my fingers along the curve of her side. If she cried, I don’t see any trace of her tears. What I see is a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she says.
“Always,” I reply.
“Can we go home? Please? I don’t want to be there without you.”
“Very well,” I stroke her chin. “But there’s one more thing I need to tell you.”
Worry puckers her brow. “What’s wrong?”
I sigh. “We needed a minimum of fifty hospitals to commit to one of our products from the Mechanicus line. It’s the only way to keep the company running these next few months.”
“Right,” she says, remembering the aggressive sales tactics I implemented, and how I sent our entire team of reps to pitch to over two hundred hospitals across the country.
“As of today, we have one hundred and eighty-seven,” I reply, doing my best to tame my smile so I may finish. “Each committing to a minimum of two products in addition to the thirty-four I sold to my contacts in Europe.”
I expect her to throw her arms around me, or perhaps leap up screaming. Instead her eyes warm and she smiles softly. “You saved your company.”
No. I launched it into the cosmos as she predicted. I don’t remind her, she already realizes. “You don’t seem surprised,” I point out.
“Because I’m not.” Her fingers gingerly stroke my temple. “I knew you’d make it right.”
“Regardless of what we were up against?”
“Yes.” Her stare glistens. “Evan. . . . You always make everything right.”
My hand glides through her hair, palming the base of her skull and drawing her to me.
Her lips part, immediately welcoming me. The kiss is tender, built on longing, but as it deepens, everything we’ve felt: pain, anger, joy, and even hate turns it into something we both need.
Our hands reflect our desire to feel our bare skin connect, surging our passion with each caress. I slip off the straps of her dress, nibbling the spot separating her breasts as I toss her bra aside.
She hauls up her skirt, permitting me to tug her panties aside while she frees my erection.
A deep groan clenches her throat as I grip my staff and lead her down slowly. My weight and hers reclines the chair, keeping us at an angle and allowing me to fill her. She trembles, falling to my lap.
We begin to move, our rhythm increasing with each glide of her hips and lift of my legs.
It’s not about lust, or how incredible she feels as I stroke in and out of her, nor how sweet she tastes or the way her body reacts to my touch.
It’s not even a way to prove our connection.
It’s about us and the love no one can ever rob from us.
CHAPTER 26
Wren
The rumbling of voices slap like the splatter of heavy rain against the steel door. As per the mass company email I sent, everyone is filing into the auditorium we typically reserve to introduce new product lines. Not this time. This time, it’s all about the overwhelming success iCronos is experiencing and the man who made it happen.
I’m wearing a blue dress with silvery tones to match his tie. He smiled when he saw me, knowing why I chose it. After everything he’s done for me and for us, it’s the least I can do.
He paces the conference room where we wait, his excitement building. I’m so proud of him and wish I could explain just how much. Except nothing I can think to say seems like enough. So I tell him a story, cause it’s the one thing I’m pretty damn good at.
“Did I ever tell you about what happened between me and Carolina Delgado?”
He stops pacing. “Is she the one you punched in the face for seducing your brother?”
“No, that was Josefina Miller. I punched Carolina in the face for som
ething entirely different.”
He crosses his arms and leans into the conference table. “I thought Josefina was the one who taught you to ride a motorcycle?”
“No, that was Juanita Delaverde.” I stop swiveling in my seat. “Besides, that was sixth grade and I’m talking about fifth.”
He smirks. “No, I don’t believe you’ve acquainted me with Carolina Delgado.”
“In that case, listen up, it’s going to help you out there.”
“I have no doubt,” he says, chuckling.
I clear my throat, my way of telling him it’s going to be a doozey because it sure as hell is. “When I was eleven years old, I had to stand in front of the entire student body at Saint Therese Catholic School, the staff, and worst yet Sister Hildegard and my arch nemesis Carolina. By some miracle of God, I’d scored among the top ten students in our spelling bee and it was down to me, Carolina, and Yvette McGillicudy to represent Saint Therese at the state level.”
“What was so bad about Sister Hildegard?”
It’s so like Evan to guess she plays a big part of the story. “Oh, nothing, she just hated me since the time she caught me, Killian, and Curran lugging the holy water tank out of church. Long story,” I add when he blinks back at me. “Let’s just say Finnie had hit the terrible two’s, the angry three’s, and the fucking fours all at once. We were convinced he was possessed and were trying to save him.” I hold out a hand. “Our hearts were in the right place. But in case you were wondering, he wasn’t possessed.”
“I wasn’t wondering, actually,” he responds.
“Good, but he was still a little bastard and we all have the bite marks to prove it.”
I cross my legs when he laughs. “Anyway, Carolina’s word was ‘irrefutable’. The bat-shit crazy peroxide blonde nailed it. Yvette’s word was, ‘camouflage’. She was always smart so she spelled it out in one breath. Mine was ‘silhouette’. Sil-hou-fucking-ette. The moment I heard it, I couldn’t remember which came first, the “l” or the “h.”
“How did it go?”
“About as bad as you can imagine and then a little worse,” I admit. “I step up to the podium, pretty much knowing I’m screwed and wishing I didn’t have to be. The bright lights from the stage added about ten degrees to the already scorching auditorium that subbed as our gymnasium, sending heat tearing across my chest. It was bad, Evan. Real bad. I was sweating so much I looked like I’d showered in my uniform. The polyester stuck against my skinny body and it was like I couldn’t breathe.”
“Darling,” he says.
He sounds worried about me, even after all the years that passed. I want to hug him for it. But I keep going. He needs to hear what I have to say.
“‘Erin O’Brien?’ Sister Hildegard said, her voice as sweet as vinegar poured over gasoline. ‘Spell silhouette,’ she repeated.”
“Um,” I said.
He adjusts his position, listening closely. “A flash went off in the audience,” I tell him. “Followed by another. Ma and Angus were snapping away on the disposable cameras they’d picked up at the drugstore like this was the O’Briens’ finest moment. In a way, it was, seeing it was the first good thing to happen since my father had died. Declan sat between them. Grammie was there, too, praying the rosary. I couldn’t let them down, you know? But I did. I said, ‘Silhouette. S-i-h-l-o-u-e-t-t-e.’”
“Oh,” Evan says, grimacing.
“I know,” I mumble. “Angus jumps up. Applauding and cheering, thinking I spelled it right. It sucked. Not only because I hadn’t, but because at least half the audience laughed at him, some of the snobbier kids even pointed. Declan turned around, told them to shut up. He, Ma, and Angus started arguing with the people directly behind them. They didn’t hear Carolina tell me, ‘Your brother’s as stupid as you are’. But I did.’”
“My God,” Evan says.
“She didn’t know Angus took his GED at sixteen and started working full time to help support us after my father died.” I shrug. “Or maybe she did. Carolina was always mean. So instead of taking a seat because my moment was over, I took a swing and knocked her on her ass.”
He raises his brows slightly. “I can’t say that I blame you.”
I smile a little. “Neither did Sister Hildegard. She took me aside, well, after she hauled me off Carolina and cleaned up my bloody nose.”
“Carolina gave you a bloody nose?”
“Oh, yeah. That bleached broad had a mean right cross. Anyway, Sister Hildegard told me that while she didn’t approve of me punching Carolina, she said I was right for sticking up for my family.”
He pulls me to him. “I take it there’s a point to your story.”
“There is,” I agree, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I wanted to tell you that no matter the pitfalls you’ve endured, and any that follow, I’m going to stand by you like my family has always stood by me—that I believe in you, like Angus did, even if things don’t always go exactly as planned. And despite what tomorrow brings, you’ve earned your spot on that podium and all the success that’s coming.”
I expect him to laugh. Then again, maybe I don’t. He looks at me, those specks of gold in his deep green eyes warming the same way they did the first time he told me he loved me. “Thank you,” he says.
“Always,” I say, meaning it.
He kisses my lips and gathers me close. “Just one thing, don’t punch anyone in the face out there.”
“I’m not making any promises, bossman,” I say, inching away when someone knocks on the door. “I’ve seen the way Giselle from Accounting looks at your ass.”
“Evan?” Anne smiles when she finds us laughing. “We’re ready for you.”
He nods, leading me forward. Together, we walk out into the hall and into the audience, my hand in his until he releases it to take his place on the podium.
I’ve always loved the feel of the Explorer as it takes the road. The cabin envelops us, stowing us away from the rest of the world and encasing us in its protection. I can’t even hear the engine as we barrel off the highway and onto the exit leading to Villanova. But then I don’t hear much except for Evan’s easy breathing.
He hasn’t stopped smiling since we left iCronos, the pure excitement of his employees leaving him speechless. They leapt to their feet, cheering, but it was the ones who cried tears of joy who really touched his heart.
“You did it, Evan,” Clifton told him.
“No, we did it,” Evan countered, shaking his hand and clasping his shoulder.
“I didn’t expect Anne to react the way she did,” Evan says, verbalizing exactly what I was thinking.
“I know,” I say, smoothing my palm against his thigh.
“She was close to hysterics.”
“She was just happy.” I grin. “She’s always believed in her daddykins.”
“Somehow I doubt that’s how she thinks of me,” he says laughing.
“Of course she does. It meant everything to her when you gave her away at her wedding.”
His humor fades, likely remembering all the people who waited for a chance to offer their congratulations. Most he only knew by face, but they didn’t seem to mind. Like me, they saw something special in the products he and his engineers created, and more importantly, they recognized the brilliant leader he was from the start.
He shook their hands. He smiled kindly. He was simply Evan.
The gates to his house part and he pulls into the long driveway. The bushes and trees are freshly trimmed, but hide the house away from the road. I love it here and love how it feels like home even more.
“That was pretty awesome,” I say, my mind remembering how happy and excited everyone seemed.
“It was,” he agrees.
“Like Jimmy Stewart in It’s a Wonderful Life.” I hit my seatbelt release and reach for my purse. “Except not as depressing and no angels in long underwear.”
“I’ll give you that,” he says, flinging open his door.
He winks at me as he walks ar
ound to open my door.
But Bryant gets to me first.
“Wren!”
Evan lurches forward when Bryant grabs me in a headlock and hauls me out.
I kick back hard, nailing him in the shin.
The contents of my purse spill across the concrete floor.
And the cold barrel of a gun slams into my head.
CHAPTER 27
Evan
“Fucking, bitch,” Bryant snaps.
His face is partially hidden by the red baseball cap he’s wearing, but I know it’s him. He must have shadowed us in as we drove through the gate.
Wren struck him hard in the leg, but he hangs on tight, limping backward and dragging her with him.
“Let her go,” I bite out through my teeth. I follow them as he reaches the edge of the garage. “I swear, if you hurt her—”
“What?” he scoffs. “You think I care about this whore?” An inhuman smile crawls along his narrow face. “But you do, don’t you?” He laughs, taking in my hardening breaths. “Yeah . . . you do.”
“Evan, don’t move,” Wren cries out, wincing when he digs the barrel of his Sig deep against her scalp. “Please. Just stay where you are.”
“What do you want?” My voice shakes from the force of my accelerating rage. I should raise my hands and assure him I won’t hurt him, if he doesn’t hurt her. But that’s a damn lie. I’m ready to tear this fucking tosser apart.
He edges back along the driveway where the exterior lighting ends and total darkness awaits. I trail them carefully, my focus trained on his movements. He tightens his stranglehold, making her cough. She can still breathe, but he’s making it hard for her, pressing her tight against him and using her as his shield.
“I asked you what you wanted,” I growl, taking another step forward.
My body stills when Bryant makes a twisting motion with his wrist, drilling the tip of the gun against her temple. She spits out a curse, her soft features scrunching in pain. He’s having fun with her and with me. I feel his instability and menace as clearly as he senses my rage.
