by M. S. Parker
“You don't hurt me,” I said softly. My fingers played across the smooth skin of his chest. “You keep me safe.” There was more I wanted to say, more to tell him. How he was the closest thing I'd ever had to a real family, to a home. But I didn't say any of it. I couldn't risk him taking it the wrong way. I'd fallen for him harder than I ever dreamed possible and, as much as I trusted him, I was still terrified that one wrong move, and I'd lose him.
“Jenna,” he began and then hesitated.
I looked up at him, choosing to tilt my head impossibly far rather than move an inch away from him. “What's wrong?” An icy hand gripped my heart. Had I done something? Said something?
“Nothing,” he said quickly. He ran his hand up and down my back, one of those unconscious soothing gestures people did. “I just wanted to ask you something and then thought better of it, that's all.”
Now I wanted to know despite the nerves coiling in my stomach. “You can ask,” I said. “I won't promise that I'll always answer, but I'll never lie. Ask whatever you want.” I'd actually been waiting for him to ask questions, to want to know more about my past, who I was and where I'd come from. I'd given him a lot, but there was always more.
“I was wondering.” He appeared to be choosing his words carefully. “Why did you choose to go into computers?”
I blinked. Of all the questions I thought he'd ask after what happened with Christophe, that hadn't been one of them. It was a legitimate question though. One I'd asked myself when I'd decided what I wanted to do.
“Every time you're on the internet, aren't you afraid of what you'll find?” His fingers played with my hair, occasionally brushing against my scalp.
“That's why I did it,” I said. “I went into it because I wanted to learn how to find all of that...shit.” I shivered and he wrapped me more tightly in the blankets. “When I was fifteen, I wrote a nasty virus and a facial recognition program.”
“You got rid of them,” he said, understanding without me needing to tell him. “Everything with you...you cleared it.”
I nodded. “People say that once something's on the internet, it's out there forever, but there are always ways to make things disappear.”
“What did you do?”
I heard a note of professional curiosity in his voice. “I tagged the videos with the virus and then buried them all deep. If anyone ever tries to download them, everything gets wiped. Their hard drive, their identities, everything. I couldn't do anything about the people who'd already downloaded the files, but I made damn sure that it'd be virtually impossible for anyone to get them again.”
“You wrote that when you were fifteen?” He sounded impressed.
I looked up at him, my lips curving up into a grin. “Jealous?”
He smiled and kissed my forehead. “Very. I thought I was smart, but that sounds pretty lethal.”
“It is,” I said, returning my head to his chest. I liked the feel of his skin against my cheek. Who was I kidding? I loved the way his body felt against mine. I hated having anything between us.
“I'd like to see it someday, if you don't mind.”
I nodded. A thrill of pride went through me. I'd always known the programs I'd written were good, but I'd never been able to show them off before. Another programmer would want to know more about what they did and why I'd written them.
“Is that–” He paused, and then continued, “Is that why I hit a wall doing your background check?”
Right. That. He hadn't been surprised when I'd told him my name hadn't always been Jenna Lang because he'd found a record of a name change, but he hadn't dug any further.
“The courts wouldn't let me legally change my name until I was eighteen,” I said. “Which meant all anyone had to do was type in my name and they'd know everything.” My jaw muscles tightened. “I was in ten different foster homes from the time I was rescued until I turned seventeen and was allowed to go to college. At every one, someone would inevitably want to know more about the new girl, and once they searched my name, it was all over and I'd have to move again.”
“Oh, love, I'm so sorry.” He cradled the back of my head, his fingers massaging my scalp.
“Before I left for college, I figured out how to erase myself,” I confessed. “The day I changed my name to Jenna Lang, I erased all traces of who I had been. Court records, everything. My original name is gone and I thought it had taken with it any connection to my past.”
“Christophe doesn't know it, does he?”
“I don't know.” The thought made my blood run cold. “He always called me Snow White. My mom didn't tell any of...no one knew my real name until the story broke.”
“How could the media publish your name?”
I warmed at the anger in his voice. I was still working on accepting that there were people who didn’t blame me for what had happened.
“You were just a kid. There are laws.”
“Lily tried finding out who leaked my name,” I said. “But once it was out there, all of the papers ran with it. They claimed journalist shield law and that was it. I was the poster child for child pornography.”
“I hate this so much,” he practically growled the words. “I hate what was done to you.”
I looked up at him and his eyes were blazing. I put my hand on his cheek. “And I love you for hating it.” I ran my fingers through the hair at his temple. “But it's in the past. Nothing either one of us can do about it.”
He bent his head, capturing my mouth in a kiss so fierce that it took my breath away. I clung to him as his tongue parted my lips. I felt his emotions radiating off him, so intense that I didn't think my heart could take it. I'd never imagined anyone could feel this way about me.
“I love you,” he whispered as he broke the kiss.
“I love you, too.” I snuggled back down against him.
Silence fell again and I let myself drift, relaxed in my safe place. I was almost asleep when he asked it.
“What is your real name?”
I stiffened. I should've known that he'd want to know. I didn't think it was for some nefarious reason, but the question brought with it a flood of memories. I could hear the kids taunting me, hear the reporters shouting my name as Lily tried to shield me from them.
“Jenna, love, what's wrong?” Rylan took my face between his hands and tilted it up so that he could see me.
“I-I...” I shook my head, unsure how to explain it to him.
“Shh, it's okay.” He wrapped his arms around me again. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. I didn't think. I'm sorry.” I let him fold himself around me, surround me. “Forgive me, love.” He kissed the top of my head. “I didn't think.”
I nodded. I didn't think I could speak with all of the shit inside me threatening to burst out. It wasn't just the memories that my name brought with it. This weekend, Rylan and I had been wrapped up in a little cocoon, in our own world. It was safe and warm here, in his house, his bed, his arms. Nothing bad could touch me here. Or such was the lie I'd told myself.
If what had happened with Christophe had taught me anything, it was that my past wasn't gone. It was there, it always had been there, and it was waiting to bite my ass when I least suspected it. I may have buried the videos of me deep online and made it so that anyone looking at them would regret it. I may have changed my name, but she was still out there.
I closed my eyes, wanting nothing more than to go back to how things had been before we'd had this conversation. I'd always prided myself on not lying to myself, but I'd been doing it without even realizing it, and this weekend had been one more example of it. Rylan and I had to go back to the real world tomorrow, a world where he was my boss, where his half-sister and his best friend hated me, where no one would think the two of us were right for each other. A world where my past was always lurking around the corner.
What had I gotten myself into? I couldn't keep putting aside the questions I didn't like. One day, he would get tired of me hiding things from him and he wou
ld give me an ultimatum. If I didn't want to lose him, I would have to tell him more than just my real name. I would have to tell him about the years after Lily rescued me, the anger and the rebellion. The ways I'd acted out. How I'd viewed men and sex. People who had been abused like I had generally went to one extreme or the other when it came to sex. They either completely shut down sexually or they treated sex like any other primal desire. Promiscuous was the word most people used for the behavior. For the first time in my life, I wished I'd shut down. That I hadn't let anyone besides Rylan touch me.
I swallowed hard, trying not to cry. I knew there was nothing I could ever do to take back all that was lost. One of the first things I'd come to accept in therapy was that I'd never be a virgin and that I'd want to avoid any guy's question about how many people I'd slept with before him. It hadn't been that hard to accept because I didn't care. Sex didn't mean anything beyond physical satisfaction and that meant I didn't need to care what anyone thought about the number of partners I'd had.
Now, though, I cared. I wasn't stupid. I knew Rylan had been with other women. There was no way a man like him had ever lacked for female attention. I hated the thought of him with those other women, but I hated more that it didn't matter how many men those other women had slept with, they'd practically be virgins compared to me. And there was no way any of them had ever done the things I'd been forced to do, no matter how kinky they'd been.
I'd told him once that I was broken and he refused to accept it. I'd told him the extent of the damage that had been done to my body, the surgeries I'd needed to repair the injuries. And what they hadn't been able to fix.
My stomach twisted. In the past, there had been times I'd wallowed in self-pity about what had happened to me, but never had I felt this kind of anguish. I didn't want to tell him my name because I didn't want to be that girl again. I wanted that girl to never have existed. I wanted, more than I'd ever wanted anything in my life, to have only known the touch of one man. I wanted to not have been ruined long before he ever met me.
And I knew that could never happen.
All of the happiness of the weekend, the joy I'd felt at his proclamations of love, the pleasure I'd experienced at his hands, it leeched away into the darkness, leaving me wondering if I'd made a huge mistake. The past was there, a nagging voice in the back of my head telling me that I could pretend all I wanted, but she was still there and, eventually, I'd be her again.
Chapter 3
I stayed the rest of Sunday night, but only because I knew if I got out of bed and told Rylan I wanted to go back to my apartment, he'd feel like it was his fault, and he didn't deserve that.
Monday morning, he told me that he'd given everyone the entire week off for Christmas, adding the first couple days to the usual vacation so that no one had to deal with what had happened to Christophe. Word would probably get around, but it'd at least give me a buffer as people had time to gossip away from the office. He was still going in because there was a lot he needed to do, but he told me I didn't have to.
I managed a half-smile and said that I'd rather be busy. I also had to call the police and see if I was allowed to go back to my apartment. Rylan protested, of course, telling me that I could stay as long as I liked and that I needed to have professionals come in and clean. I offered a compromise. I'd let a cleaning crew take care of the apartment if they went right away so I could go home that night.
I saw the flash of hurt cross his face and wished I could take it back. It wasn't him. If anything, I wanted to stay with him and never leave. That was the problem. I had to go back to my apartment, start living my life again. I couldn't keep pretending that he was always going to be there. If I wasn't careful, when he finally did get tired of me and my baggage, I wouldn't have anything to go back to.
Fortunately, there was enough to do at work that we didn't have to deal with any awkwardness between us. We ate lunch together since the office was virtually empty, save for the security guards who were alternating shifts all week, but we didn't talk about anything that had happened between us, keeping the talk all work related. That was good though since we still wanted to keep our relationship quiet at work.
When we left, I could tell he wanted to ask me to go home with him again, but I didn't give him the opportunity. By the time I got back to my apartment, I wished I would have. The crew he'd hired had been excellent, but it didn't matter. The place was tainted. It wasn't safe here. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself, missing Rylan. I wanted nothing more than to be with him, but that wasn't going to happen. I had to stand on my own two feet. With that thought in mind, I headed into the kitchen to find something to eat.
I was deciding between two equally unappetizing options when my phone rang. Immediately, my stomach flipped. I'd still been getting the occasional call from former clients who didn't know I wasn't freelancing anymore, but I hoped it wasn't any of them. A glance at my screen sent my heart racing. As I answered the call, I wondered if there would ever be a time when seeing his name or hearing his voice wouldn't provoke a physical response. I hoped not.
“Jenna.”
A shiver went up my spine. Damn. Just him saying my name could make me wet.
“You got home safely?” There was tension in his voice.
“Yes. And the cleaning crew you hired did an amazing job. Thank you.” Why did I feel so nervous? I'd spent the entire weekend with him. Talking on the phone shouldn’t have been difficult.
Then again, I reasoned, there was a difference between lying in bed and talking, or making small talk over a meal, and having a conversation on the phone. Especially when a relationship had experienced the kind of sudden increase in intimacy that ours had. I'd accepted the title of girlfriend before everything had happened with Christophe, but the things I'd shared with Rylan, and telling him that I loved him, went way beyond the words we used to describe each other.
“Are you upset with me?” The question was matter-of-fact, but I could picture the look on Rylan's face when he asked it.
“No,” I answered immediately. “I'm just tired.” Only the 'just' part wasn't entirely true. I put a teasing note into my voice. “Someone didn't let me get much sleep this weekend.”
He chuckled and I felt his relief. “Well then,” he said. “I better not take up too much of your time.”
I smiled when he laughed. The sound danced across my skin.
“Aside from wanting to make sure you were okay,” he continued. “I wanted to know if you had any plans tomorrow after work. If you were coming in to work,” he quickly added. “You're still welcome to take advantage of the time off.”
“I'm coming in,” I said. “I think being here is going to take some time. Better to break it up with other things.”
“I'm glad you said that,” Rylan said. “Because if you're not busy after work, I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me to a Christmas party. I got the invitation a while ago, but wasn't planning on going. Then Lara called me and guilted me into coming. I really don't want to go alone.”
“Lara?” I hoped my voice sounded as light as I meant it to be.
“Lara Roache,” he clarified. “Her family's got serious money back East and she came out here for college. Ended up staying and getting into real estate to make her own money.”
“You sound like you know her pretty well.” I quashed the jealousy that wanted to rear its head. There was no reason that Rylan shouldn't know wealthy people in the area. He'd been rich since college and, from what I'd gathered from my humiliating lunch with his half-sister, his family came from money as well.
“I should,” he said. “We dated for two years.”
All of the air went out of my lungs and I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. I didn't know why it shocked me. Why would I have assumed that his previous relationships would've been short, if not only one-night stands? Of course he'd had girlfriends before. Real girlfriends who he'd taken to meet his parents, ones he'd seen a future with.
“
Anyway, she always has this huge Christmas party for all of the high society people in the area and she wants me to come. I think it'd be good for Archer Enterprises.”
Of course, I thought. Work. That made sense. I could almost hear the sarcasm in my mental voice. Maybe that was why he wanted me to come. I was one of his most impressive employees.
“Please don't make me go alone.” His begging was half teasing.
How could I say no to that? I couldn't deny him anything. “What's the dress code?” I had no doubt there was one. High society people weren't exactly the 'come as you are' type.
“You're gorgeous in anything.”
I rolled my eyes even though he couldn't see me. “Is this black tie? Semi-formal?”
“I didn't think you cared what people thought about how you dressed.”
“I care when it reflects on you.” Shit. Too much. “And the business.”
He was silent for a moment, and then spoke, his voice a bit lower than it was before. “I really liked that dark blue dress you wore.”
I knew which one he was talking about. He'd flown in a former roommate who was now a successful chef in LA to make us dinner at his place. As good as the food was, what had followed was even more memorable.
“What time?” The images dancing through my mind made my voice a bit rough.
“Well, it's supposed to start at six, and I figured if we went early, we could cut out early and get something real to eat. Knowing Lara, the only thing they'll have to eat at the party will be some of those pretentious finger foods.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“Are you sure there's nothing wrong?” he asked.
“Tired, like I said.” I tossed the leftover Chinese food into the trash. It probably wouldn't have been a good idea to eat it anyway.
“I hope you're not coming down with something.” His voice was full of concern.
“I don't think so,” I said. “I'm thinking a hot bath and then calling it a night.”
“All right,” he said. “I'll let you get to your bath. Wishing I was there with you.”
