by Beth Mikell
“Never leave me, Carson. I need you too much.” Panicked and worried all at once, Ivy was unable to stem the well of emotion bleeding out her veins or the apprehension choking her throat.
He brushed his lips over her forehead. “Never Midnight.”
****
The sea of tearful faces and tight hugs engulfed Ivy with relief, joy, and immense love. So much so, her own tears trailed down her cheeks with startling surprise. She’d never contemplated such a welcoming or what they called a homecoming. From her mother, to her siblings… to her grandmother, they lifted her inside their circle, yet she clung desperately to her husband. Carson’s presence made everything palatable. She’d never learned love until him and without him; she knew she’d sink within the hurricane storm floating around her.
Saturday afternoon, Ivy stood in the study alone dressed in a black and white dress, a flared skirt to the knees with a thin red belt, staring out the window. She’d slipped inside the deserted room within the three-story mansion, needing a few minutes privacy before a huge family barbeque kicked off in her honor. She was reduced to an inner pile of sensory overload. The Thompson’s were loaded, rich, and a well-to-do prominent family of Houston. Her father had been a senator with many political connections before he died, while her mother was a professor of international law, teaching young minds all she knew. Everyone had been kind, sharing stories of a life she never lived—never experienced—stolen.
A strange kind of rage or pain settled in her heart. She’d stolen, often, caring less for the outcome. Selfishness had ruled her heart so long until Carson wiped the floor with her heart, filling his love within all that remained.
“Hey sexy.”
Ivy gasped, twisting to face her former mentor, blonde hottie, and super genius of the art theft world. “Alistair? How did you…?”
He grinned, tapping his lips in a keep it down kind of way, and then he shrugged. “You know me, I’m somewhat of a magician in crowded places,” he said, whistling through his teeth, while eyeing a beautiful painting over the mantle. “This is some place, sexy. You’ve done well. Rich husband, new family—I’m a little jealous.”
She walked to him, taking his hand in hers, squeezing lightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I guess I needed time to work things out for myself. But, you shouldn’t be here,” she scolded, her eyes shooting toward the door.
“Don’t worry, sexy, I’m not staying long. I wanted to be sure you were okay. You’ve been plastered all over Hollywood as the new it girl. Even People Magazine did a nice layout of you and your husband, but I wanted to see you for myself.”
“You can see that I’m good… no, better than good.” She drew a deep breath. “How is Mrs. Devereux?”
A serious light tinted his expression. “Not well. You should try to go see her.”
“Yes.” She bit her lip, thinking of her dear friend suffering in the South of France. She’d left her… the one person who’d cared for her over the years. The harsh reality of that burned her heart. She’d never lost someone to death, or rather, not someone with an invested, emotional tie. Would she continue always find misery even in happiness? The reality is… this was life. Harsh at times, but beautiful in other ways.
“Can I interest you in a job? I’ve got some great leads,” he said with a wink, then wagging his eyebrows up and down.
Ivy half-smiled, shaking her head. “No, that’s not my life anymore.”
He nodded, trying not to appear disappointed. “I thought you might say that. Well, enough of this, sexy. Give me a hug, and then get your ass out there,” Alistair said, pulling her into his arms, holding her a few seconds too long. “You know you were the best, right?”
She tilted her head back and gave him a smirk. “I had the best teacher.”
Alistair rolled his eyes. “Sweet talker.”
“Who the fuck are you and why are your hands on my wife?”
Chapter 5
Before Ivy could blink, Carson plowed into Alistair, knocking him into a wooden end table, smashing it to pieces as they crashed to the floor. Fists flew followed by painful grunts as the two men continued to beat each other, throwing jabs anywhere they could. They shredded the room, knocking over furniture and smashing anything breakable—a free for all.
“Carson stop!” Ivy called out, cringing as he banged Alistair’s head against the floor a fourth time. “Stop it, please! I beg you! It’s not what you think!” As Carson stood, she set out toward him, yet froze midway. His expression was dark, stilling her in place.
“You know this fucker?”
“Yes,” she breathed, shame flushing her cheeks. “B-but, it’s not how it appears.”
“Oh, really Mrs. Wilde? And how does it appear?” He sneered, his breath heaving. “I missed my wife, only to find her cozy inside another man’s arms. Yeah, that shit’s real!”
Ivy squared her shoulders, lifting her chin and folded her arms. “He’s my friend and we were saying goodbye—and that shit’s real!”
Alistair groaned, rolling to the side holding his face. “She’s telling the truth, ass wad! I came to check on her, make sure she was all right.”
Carson threw him a caustic glare. “Not another word out of you.” His gaze flipped back to Ivy. “Who is he? A boyfriend? Or do I even want to know?”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He raised his hands up in the air with a jerky shrug. “Fuck if I know, Ivy. You’re the one with the answers and I’m the one waiting for them.”
“He’s just a friend, nothing more,” she fumed, stepping closer and jabbed a finger in Carson’s direction. “Oh, and while we’re on the subject, was it necessary to throw a few punches without the full facts? I mean, are you going to be hair-trigger in the future?”
“A little help here,” Alistair called out, trying to stand.
Ivy moved to help, yet Carson stepped in front of her, grasping her elbow. “Don’t touch him,” he hissed, his eyes hard.
She yanked her elbow out of his grip, flipping him a seething glare. “He’s my ex-partner in crime, if you must know. He and I have had only a business relationship—that’s all. We haven’t had any contact since I came back to you, Carson—he was worried about me.” She looked around the room in disgust. “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve destroyed my parent’s home for no reason. How will I explain this?”
Ivy helped Alistair to his feet. “C’mon, we’ve got to get you out of here. Did you come on foot or do you have a driver?”
He heaved a harsh breath, holding his face. “Driver,” he pressed out between clenched teeth.
“I’ll help you,” she said, tucking his arm around her shoulder.
“Ivy!”
Her gaze met his. “This man is wanted as an international art thief, just like me. If he goes down, so do I! Either help me get him out of here or get the hell out of my way!”
With an angry twist of his mouth, Carson grabbed Alistair’s other arm and helped him—his decision made… so obvious who he’d protect even though pissed as hell at her.
****
At twelve in the morning, Ivy couldn’t sleep. After Carson had helped her with Alistair, they hadn’t spoken since, managing to stay far apart even with so many people around them. In fact, she couldn’t even look at him, which was fine with her. He’d buried himself in his telephone calls and his laptop, ignoring her. How could he think so little of her love or devotion? Hadn’t she proved herself? Hadn’t she come a long way in showing him what he meant to her or how she appreciated him? She recognized what he’d done for her, how he’d concealed her past, but going after Alistair disturbed her. She’d never loved before, but surely, it wasn’t like this? Or was it? Anger? Hurtful? Distrustful? God, he was maddening, making her crazy!
She made her way downstairs to the study, pausing in the doorway. Her mother, Lorelei sat on the sofa looking through old albums. She smiled as she recognized her daughter, patting the space beside her
.
“Come sit, Ivy.”
With heavy steps, she entered the room, glancing around with embarrassment. The broken furniture removed, the shattered items swept aside… everything restored. As she sat down, she eyed the woman who gave her birth, amazed. Their remarkable resemblance evident, from their inky hair to their green eyes as well as their slim, elegant body shape. They were definitely related by just a glance—anyone could see it.
Lorelei smiled, turning the album toward her. “This is Henry on our wedding day.”
The man staring back at her was breathtaking… handsome. She eyed him with wonder, a sense of loss at never having met him.
“He was so strong and a marvelous husband.”
Tears pricked Ivy’s eyes. “I wished I’d… known him,” she whispered, meeting her mother’s tearful gaze. She choked back a wad of unwelcome emotion filling her throat.
“Henry never gave up hope in finding you. He used to pace the floor at night, looking out the window, so sure. While I hoped, I still had three other children to take care of and my hope faded over time. However, not Henry. No, he always knew we’d find you.” She pulled out a tissue from her robe, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Ivy reached out, squeezing her hand. “No, I understand. It’s been quite an emotional journey.”
Lorelei nodded. “Yes, it has. I’m just thankful God answered our prayers and brought you back to us.” She swallowed hard. “I thought you’d like to know, Henry named you Victoria after his grandmother, whom he adored as a child.”
Inwardly, Ivy groaned. “I wish that name resonated, it’s beautiful.”
Her mother slipped an arm around her shoulder. “So is Ivy. It’s lovely. It doesn’t matter what you go by, sweetheart, it’s the person that matters more than anything.” After a few moments, she gazed thoughtfully at her daughter with concern. “If I may ask, is everything all right between you and Carson? You seemed so happy when you first arrived…” she trailed off, looking slightly embarrassed.
Ivy flushed, looking away. “I’m sorry about the mess—”
“Hush now. Don’t worry about that.”
With a deep breath, Ivy related the truth of their Vegas wedding and long separation, omitting the gory details of her art crime profession. “One of my old friend’s stopped by to see me earlier and Carson… overreacted.”
Lorelei chuckled softly. “Ah, I see. Young men and young love—a dangerous combination.” She leaned forward, her eyes shining. “I had the same problem. I was originally engaged to someone else until Henry beat him up. I hated him at first, but slowly fell in love with him. Sometimes the men we love are strange creatures, yet worth it in the end. Don’t be too hard on him—anyone can see he’s crazy about you.”
Ivy sighed. “To be honest, he’s the first person I’ve ever loved. I never experienced what love was until… Carson. My childhood was so empty, my heart so hard, I didn’t know I could love.”
Lorelei bit her lip, muffling a sob while squeezing Ivy closer. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
For long moments, they cried softly together, emptying their pain of a lost life. Their tears shed over past regret and new hope and for the first time, Ivy found a family to love… a place to call home. Inside the fullness, she knew what she had to do.
****
Carson stood by the window, shirtless and mouthwatering, as Ivy closed their bedroom door. This man loved her… her man. He was everything to her and she knew she couldn’t let him down again or let him go, no matter how much he irritated her at times. He didn’t bother turning around as she moved closer, stopping inches from him.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” she whispered, reaching up to caress his arm. The muscle under his skin tensed, yet he still didn’t look at her, his jaw tightening in his profile. “Alistair only came to say goodbye, nothing more. I’m yours, Carson—just as I promised.”
He grunted. “Are you? How many others will come, Ivy? How many more will appear to kiss my wife goodbye?”
Crap-shit! No Midnight? She rolled her eyes. “No one else. I promise.”
Carson turned his blue gaze on her, cold and menacing. “Do you have any idea how it felt to see his hands on you—innocent or not? I wanted to fucking kill him.” He ran both his hands through his hair. “I still do.”
She sighed hard, soulful and depleted. “Baby, please. He was merely my art contact—my theft scout, if you will. He found the jobs, I manned the operation and we’d divide the take. We were never… intimately involved.”
Inside a gruff exhale, he dragged her into his arms, burying his nose in her hair. “God, I’m sorry, Midnight. I went a little fucking crazy.”
“A little?” She teased, hugging him close.
He squeezed her tighter. “Shut up! I still wouldn’t mind taking you over my knee for this infraction.”
“Not my fault, baby. Get a hold of yourself.” A little worried he might do that.
Carson tilted her chin up, searing her with his wild blue gaze. “Is everything over? No more theft scouts?”
She nodded, and then stilled… he tensed. “I may need to travel to the South of France to see Mrs. Devereux. She’s not well.”
He relaxed against her, releasing a pent up breath. “I’ll take you. Now if you like, but no more, Ivy. I need you too much and I can’t share.”
She lifted a brow, pursing her lips. “Actually, I hadn’t noticed.”
He cupped her ass, forcing her against his hard length, loving her sharp breath. “I don’t need your smart mouth right now, Midnight. I’m still really pissed.” He rested his forehead against hers. “God, I want to fuck you.”
She chuckled. “I thought you didn’t fuck,” she said, pressing her smart mouthed luck and her lower body deep into him, wanting him to fuck her into next week… no, next year. Her legs came up, wrapping around his waist, a groan slipping out her lips from the intense pleasure radiating through her veins.
He flashed a wicked smile. “You are the exception to all my rules.” He walked her over to the bed, sagging onto the plush surface with her still clamped around his hips. “God, I love you.”
“I love you too, Carson…” she trailed off, looking pensive, her brows drawing together.
“What is it?” His hand cupped her jaw, and he pinned her with a hard look.
“Well, it’s about the statue in your office. Why did you have that commissioned? You never really told me.” She expected him to continue smiling, but if anything, he appeared as green as her eternalized self.
“Don’t you know, Midnight?” He heaved gruffly.
“Tell me.”
“After Vegas, I tried to forget you—I wanted nothing more than to forget you existed—hate you for tying me up in knots. There’s been no woman for me since our wedding night, Ivy, yet I needed something—some way to see you every day.” He took another deep breath, shaking his head thoughtfully. “I scoured country after country, artist after artist for the best sculptor I could find. I not only commissioned that piece, but made sure they only worked for me until it was completed. I was so obsessed. It was the only way I could feel close to you and not fucking lose my mind.” His mouth came down on hers for a slow, breathy kiss.
“Carson,” she rasped, coming up for air.
“I couldn’t stand being away from you, Ivy. I need you. I need you like our wedding night, which was the happiest of my life.”
Curls of emotion hit her hard, from happiness to sadness back to joy. “I’m yours, baby. Forever.” She promised.
His mouth brushed hers in a slow, erotic caress. “Show me…” he whispered, grinding his length deep against her core, loving her heated gasp and the tightening of her thighs around him.
“Scoundrel,” she panted.
A dark smile curved his lips, his hand slid down her body. “I’m your scoundrel, Midnight.”
“You bet your sexy ass you are.”
Carson chuckled. “Shall I spank yours? Such language.”
; “I think you really want to spank me.”
He nuzzled her throat. “I think you’d be right.”
She closed her eyes in pure pleasure of his touch. “As long as you love me, you have carte blanche.”
“Careful, Midnight… that sounds like a surrender to me,” he teased.
She eyed him with her green gaze full of lust-love, her heart forever his. “Catch me, Wilde.”
“I already did.” His words were lost in the beginning of forever.
###
About the Author:
Beth Mikell spends her days writing and blogging all the while taking care of her family of five. She fell 'in love' with love at a young age and continues to believe that love really does conquer all... or at least leave her blessedly happy by the end of a book. She adores alpha males... the my-way-or-the-highway-take-no-prisoners kind of heroes, especially when they screw up and land themselves in 'hot water' with the heroines. Her husband of ten years is her personal hero, forging a path of true love along the road called life.
She can be found at Find me here…comments and shout outs welcome:
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Other Books by Beth Mikell:
The Nysein: Salvation (Book 1)
The Nysein: Release (Book 2)
Velvet Exhale
Hex upon Me
Aftermath
