The Secrets We Keep

by Hannah Davenport

  “Tell me about yourself.”

  “Well, I’m five-foot-four, blonde hair, blue eyes, and I believe one day I can solve world hunger.”

  “And how do you plan to do that?” If she wants to play this game, very well.

  She scrunches her nose. “Not sure yet. I’ll get back to you on that one.”

  A smile teases my lips before I take another sip of coffee, studying her. “Where are you from?”

  In a very thick southern accent, she says, “From down south, darling.”

  “What part?”

  “Just a little town I’m sure you’ve never heard of.”

  “Try me.”

  “Have you always lived here?” She diverts. Now I know she’s hiding something.

  “Born and raised.”

  “Hmm . . . have you ever lived anywhere else?”

  I smile and take another sip of coffee. I’d rather have bourbon on the rocks, or scotch, but I’m still feeling her out.

  “Have you?”

  She tilts her head, a smile teasing her lips. “Just here.” She crosses her legs, her foot swinging slightly.

  “Oh, yes. You moved from the Deep South to NYC. Such a drastic change.”

  “It is actually.” She looks lost in thought, her eyes staring at the wall. “I remember playing outside, planting flowers, jumping into a recently raked pile of leaves.”

  “That sounds like a . . . Hallmark TV show.”

  She grins. “Whatever,” she says, then takes a small sip of coffee. “What else do you do, you know, besides sit here and spy on people?” She nods toward the window.

  “I own stocks in several companies, and I’m in the process of building a hotel. It’s almost finished.” Yes, I’m bragging a little. I want to impress her.

  “And you made that much money owning a nightclub?” She sounds accusatory and my instincts roar to high alert. She must see the change on my face. Setting the cup down, she stands. “I need to get home.”

  “And where is home, exactly?” I stand, facing her.

  She averts her eyes, not answering. I know where she lives . . . now. That’s one piece of information I did find out.

  “Who sent you?” she finally asks, daggers shooting from her eyes.

  “I might ask you the same question.”

  Ariel takes a step back as I step closer. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Why do you want to know how I make my money?”

  It’s a standoff, both of us pissed. She steps forward, tilting her head up. We’re almost nose-to-nose when she spits, “’Cause I don’t want to be around drug dealers, gun dealers, pimps, or anything else shady! I’ve had my belly full of that shit and I don’t want anything to do with it!”

  “Good. Neither do I!” My words come out more heated than I intended. “I inherited most of my money!”

  I’m completely turned on by her standing up to me. Without thinking, I grab the back of her neck with my hand, bend her backward, and ravish her mouth with mine. At first she denies me, but soon her luscious lips part and I thrust my tongue inside, seeking hers. As they twirl around each other, darting inside before sliding back out, I wish it was my dick inside her moist channel. I press my hips against her, pulling her close, letting her feel what she does to me. How bad I want her.

  Catching my breath, I place her back on her feet, but I don’t let go. I barely hear her when she whispers, “It’s late. I need to go home.”

  Go home? My body’s on fire and she’s ready to end this? I think of everything disgusting, trying to get my body under control. It takes a few seconds for the lust to calm down enough to think straight.

  Stepping back, I search her eyes, then nod. “I’ll take you.”

  “Thank you.” She averts her eyes, spins on her heels, and heads for the door. She confusing; one minute she’s kissing me, and now she seems almost embarrassed.

  The ride to her place is silent and I’m wondering what just happened. Before we reach her apartment, she blurts, “You can let me out here!”

  The corner of Tenth and Second. Not happening. When I tell the driver her address, her head whips around and I can see the fear in her eyes.

  “How do you know that?”

  I shrug. “I did a background check.”

  “Let me out! Let me out!” She wrenches the inside door handle but nothing happens. “Please, let me go.”

  Tears drip down her cheeks and a look of devastation covers her face. I don’t understand, but she’s breaking my fucking heart. I’m angry at whoever has done this to her. Instilled this much fear.

  When the car comes to a stop, Tony opens the limo door. I slide out and then offer my hand. Reluctantly, she takes it and I lead her to the steps of her apartment.

  Ariel fiddles with the key until the door swings open, and not giving her a chance to say anything, I step inside.

  Chapter Seven

  Ariel

  It’s all wrong! He should not be in my apartment. Everything I’ve worked so hard to hide feels like it’s now in plain view, splayed open for everyone to see. And there’s a spotlight shining on my past.

  “Get out!” I say in a frantic voice. He needs to leave. I need to leave, run before someone drags me back home.

  Or worse . . . Oh, God!

  He grabs my shoulders, pulling me back from a panic attack. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Please . . .” It’s a plea as I almost crumple to the floor. I just need him to leave.

  Wrapping his strong arms around me, he pulls me close. The trembling almost subsides as I gulp big calming breaths, trying to regain my composure. After a few minutes, Luca says, “I’m not leaving you like this.”

  I don’t know what to do. What to say. Him being here is the reason I’m like this. Everything would be fine if he left. Except he knows where I live. Where I work. It’s all ruined. Everything I’ve worked for is ruined.

  Stepping out of his arms, I’m a little embarrassed for losing it so bad in front of him. I head to the kitchen, which takes me all of seven steps. Looking over my shoulder, I ask, “Wanna glass of wine?” No need to speak proper English, and I need a drink. Or twelve.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  I grab two glasses from the cabinet and fill them with the wine I bought the other day. It’s probably too cheap for his taste, but it’s all I have. And I like it just fine.

  As I pour one glass, and then the other, I remember the feel of his lips on mine. My first kiss. My all-consuming, fire-igniting first kiss. Even now, as I cork the wine, I can feel my lips tingle.

  Turning, I see he’s made himself comfortable on my couch. I hand him the glass, but before I can sit somewhere else, he grabs my hand and pulls me down next to him. Some of my wine spills on his expensive white shirt.

  “Shit! I’m sorry.” I try to push up, get something to clean his shirt with, but he pulls me back down and wraps one arm around my shoulders.

  “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  I gulp my drink, nothing ladylike about it. He’s made it inside my barrier and I’m lost, just trying to keep my balance on shaky ground.

  He gently takes my glass out of my hand and puts it on the table, then wraps both arms around me and looks deeply into my eyes. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  I feel like an animal trapped with no way of escaping. He’s in my home. My breathing hitches, and I want to run away. I need to run away!

  “Ariel!” He shakes my shoulders, knocking me from my mini panic attack . . . again.

  I swallow hard and ask what I desperately need to know. “Did Frank or Davie send you here?”

  “Who?” He shakes his head. “I don’t know who or what you’re talking about. No one sent me.”

  I search his eyes and see he’s telling the truth. A sliver of hope that he’s being honest creeps into me. He hugs me to his chest, and I feel . . . safe. It’s a strange feeling. Something I haven’t felt for years. It takes me a few minutes, but eventually I wrap
my arms around his waist and hug him back. This sexy, arrogant, domineering man has made me feel safe for the first time in years. It doesn’t make sense. I only just met him.

  With his chin resting on top of my head, he says, “Tell me what’s going on. Why are you so afraid?”

  Shaking my head, I say, “I can’t tell you. I can’t put you or anyone else in danger.”

  He laughs. Actually laughs at me and I try to squirm out of his arms. He won’t let me. Instead, he tightens his grip and hugs me closer. “Ariel, I am not anyone else. I’m constantly in danger, but I have the means to protect myself. Protect you.”

  I blurt, “I need a shower.” I always shower when I first get home. I move off his lap, grab my glass from the table, and drain the last drop. “I’m getting another glass and heading to the shower. Help yourself if you want more.”

  Hot water running over my head and down my back always makes me feel better. I just stand there, my mind racing with questions and answers before I grab the shampoo, letting my fingers work their magic and wash away the grime.

  My mind constantly drifts back to that searing kiss. I hope I didn’t embarrass myself because he definitely knew what he was doing. No question.

  I dress in my favorite boy shorts and T-shirt, and towel-dry my damp hair before combing out the tangles. I would dress, but it’s almost four a.m., and I’m exhausted, mentally and physically.

  I try to ignore the way Luca’s eyes roam the length of me as I refill my glass one more time. I know it’s a bad idea, and the more I drink, the more I talk. But dammit, this situation has pushed me past any barrier, any comfort zone I’d erected.

  I drop down on the coach next to him and stretch my legs out, resting my heels on the coffee table.

  “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice thick and low.

  My core clenches tight. No matter how much I drink, he still elicits that reaction from my body and it pisses me off a little. “Just peachy,” I say as I take a sip.

  “Good. Now tell me what’s going on. Who are you running from?”

  I cock my head to the side, a nostalgic mood taking over. Living utterly alone sucks, and I’m tired of it. Tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of keeping myself at arm’s length from everyone I know. “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yes. And I promise to keep your secret to myself.”

  Okay, yes, I’m tired of all that stuff, but I’m not stupid. I still have to hide or face the consequences of Frank’s wrath. Or worse, Davie’s.

  “You can’t tell Jimmy.”

  He scoffs. “In case you haven’t noticed, Jimmy doesn’t like me very much.”

  I shake my head. “Family grudges. I remember.” I take another sip and stare at the switched-off TV. “I thought we were a happy family. I was happy. My mom would take me to the movies.” I smile at Luca. “I love movies. She would buy me gossip magazines and I would keep up with who’s getting married, divorced, and who’s having a baby.”

  “I can’t believe you read that trash.”

  My face splits wide and I defend my actions. “I was twelve.” I take another drink, still smiling at the memories of Mom. Everything we did together that last year. “I knew that she and my stepfather argued a lot, but soon it became all the time.” I slowly let out a long breath. “One night, I overheard her arguing with him. She wanted to move, get me away from the life we lived. And two days later, I never saw her again.”

  “How old were you then?”

  “Thirteen.” I don’t look at Luca. I don’t want to see the pity on his face.

  “Then what happened?”

  “My stepfather changed. He started drinking more and more. He told the principal I moved away with Mom and wouldn’t let me go to school . . .” I inhale sharply as I remember how hard things were in the beginning.

  “He beat you.”

  It wasn’t a question, but I answer anyway. “He did. But I soon learned to keep my mouth shut, the house spotless, and to stay out of his sight.”

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

  I scoff then shake my head. “I was never allowed outside the house again.” I glance his way. “Still want to know the rest?”

  I can see his jaw clench tightly before he nods.

  “Very well.” I shrug and take another drink. He’s already pushed me into unknown territory. “We lived down near the Mexico border. My stepfather is a drug mule, unless they’ve killed him by now.” My lips twitch at the thought. “He smuggles drugs one way, cash the other.”

  “That’s why you were worried about how I made my money?” Understanding shines in his eyes.

  I nod, even though I’m lost in thoughts. “One night, I stole the drug money and made my escape. And here I am.”

  “Nooo . . . ” he shakes his head slowly, studying me. “You’re leaving out some things. There is no Ariel Hancock. It took my guys some time to figure it out, and your documents are good, almost too good.”

  Now it’s my time to study him. The answer to my next question will decide if I see him again or kick him to the curb. “Why did you have them check out my background?”

  “You really don’t have a clue?”

  “Why would I?”

  Smiling, he says, “Fine. There are women who seek me out, but they’re only after wealthy men. And then I must consider my business competitors who send in plants. You can’t be too careful here. It’s a city where you must protect yourself at all times.”

  “But I didn’t seek you out.”

  He laughs. “No, you didn’t. And even now you resist me every chance you get. It’s very attractive.” He reaches over and tugs on the end of my damp hair.

  Surprisingly, I’m comfortable with him sitting here beside me. His legs stretched out beside mine, our feet touching. Playfully, I say, “Does that mean you’ll leave me alone once you have me?”

  He wraps his arm around my shoulders and his lips skim my ear. “No.” His breath brushes my earlobe and just like that, my insides ignite once again. “Now tell me the rest of the story.”

  Sighing, I settle back against his arm, resting my head on his shoulder. “The only thing my stepfather kept in the house was a computer. Mom taught me to use it at a young age, and I’d research everything about my favorite actors or actresses. We had a small TV, but I wasn’t allowed to watch it. So, Mom bought me a Roku streaming stick, paid the subscription, and when my stepfather was gone, I’d watch endless movies on the computer.” I smile at the memory, take another sip, and continue. “I’m getting off track.” I shake my head and stifle a yawn. I can feel the effects of the wine.

  “I knew a lot about computers. I basically lived in chat rooms and discussion forums. So, before I escaped, I had a plan ready to go. The only problem was stealing the key to unlock the front door.” I feel him stiffen beside me, but I ignore it. It was my life, but not anymore. “I bought a bus ticket for New York at the kiosk, found someone to make fake IDs and documents so I could get a job, and,” I shrug, “that’s it.”

  His voice sounds off when he asks, “How old were you, Ariel?”

  “When I left?” He nods. “Almost seventeen.”

  “How old are you now?”

  I sit up and look at him. “Does it matter?”

  Shaking his head, he says, “Yes, if you’re under age . . .”

  I grin and sit back, nestling against his shoulder. “Don’t worry. Everything I have says I’m over twenty-one.”

  “And how old are you?”

  “Twenty,” I lie. I’ll be twenty in a couple of weeks, so it’s close enough. “Why? How old are you?”

  “I’m twenty-six.”

  “That’s young to be so successful.” I relax my head on his shoulder.

  “I had a head start, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember. Inheritance.” I like him here with me, his arm around my shoulders. It makes me feel safe, at ease now that I’ve got over him walking through the door, knowing where I live. My eyes are heavy and I can�
�t hold them open any longer.

  Luca

  As I listen to Ariel talk about her stepfather and how he held her prisoner, my blood is boiling over with rage. I know I have to keep it under control, but I want to rip the stepfather’s head from his body. He kept her prisoner, literally, after her mother left. If I ever get my hands on him, he’s a dead man!

  I swallow the anger welling up inside as I think about a sixteen-year-old surviving in the city without becoming a prostitute or a drug addict. That is an amazing feat in itself. She may be twenty, but in some ways she is much older. Having to survive on your own will do that to you.

  Ariel, or whatever her real first name is, is asleep, and as I stare down at her, I shake my head and push down the anger. Not at her. She did what she needed to do to survive. My attraction for her has grown tenfold, but my respect for her has skyrocketed, along with an overwhelming need to protect her.

  I dislodge myself and stand. After placing the glasses in the sink, I store the bottle of wine, anything to calm myself down.

  Back at the couch, I lean down and scoop her up in my arms. She’s so light. I carry her to her bed, which is small—full size—nothing like my oversized king. After placing her on the bed, I stand staring at her, not able to make myself leave. Not after she revealed her secret. Her horrifying secret, and she’s right, anyone who knows could be in danger. Deep inside, I know someone is still looking for her. It’s their way. You can’t steal from a drug dealer and get away with it. They will eventually find you.

  I shrug out of my button-up shirt and unsnap my pants, letting them fall to the floor. After I sit on the side of the bed, I slide my socks off and climb in beside her, covering us both up with the blanket. Her slightly parted lush lips and delicate face is the epitome of innocence.

  As I lay on my side, hands tucked under the pillow, I wonder how I can protect her. Would she even allow it? Probably not. The fact that she has me this concerned after talking to her only twice also has me worried.

  I drift off to sleep watching her soft, sleeping face.

  Chapter Eight

  Ariel