by Palmer, Dee
I can’t seem to move from under his dead weight, even if my body was listening to me, which it clearly isn’t. But why would by body listen, when my mind clearly left the fucking building the moment my libido parked her arse in the driving seat? I groan again and wonder if this is, in fact, how I’m going to die, suffocated by a sexy, sadistic Nordic God. Is Atticus a sadist? He rolls to the side, and I cough, splutter, and drag in much needed oxygen, pondering the question for real as I take in his glorious nakedness. I guess it would depend on whether he knew everything back then and whether he got off on my pain.
Time to find out.
“Did you know?” I ask, effectively killing the sexually satisfied and sleepy atmosphere. He doesn’t reply. He sits up and swings his legs off the bed. I shiver from the icy chill the instant and shocking loss of body heat creates. I want to take it back. I want to lie back in his arms and keep my stupid mouth shut. However, contrary to what he said, what he might actually believe, what we just did changed nothing.
“Get dressed. I need you in the library,” he directs, and I get another full body shiver, only this time, it’s from the impassive, detached, emptiness in his gaze. I can see his barriers start to rise around him. His body seems to stiffen before my eyes, and I draw in a heavy breath. I guess it’s time to reinstate my protective shield too.
“Will you answer my question?” He twists his head to face me. His eyes sparkle and flit over the length of my naked body before he snaps his head back around, but not before his face flashes with an expression of turmoil. This is all so fucked up.
“Will you answer mine?” he practically snarls, anger now radiating off of him in sizeable waves I can almost feel crashing against me.
“You haven’t asked me anything.” He’s so fucking mercurial I’m going to get whiplash.
“Oh I think I have.” His words drip with venom, and I’m stunned; after everything, we’re actually back to square one.
“Where’s my fucking money?”
He stands by the door watching me as I gather my clothes and get dressed. I don’t bother to look his way. I can feel his eyes on me, their heat and intensity is like a flame scorching my skin. I know he’s up to his neck in this shit and doesn’t know how to get out. I heard him say as much last time he was in here and thought I was unconscious. The fucking stupid thing is if he were honest with me, I would help. I have the power and not just the fucking money.
He’s too much of a fucking Kruse to ask.
I just want to know why. I know he knew I was innocent. I just want to know why he left me. What did I ever do to deserve this level of betrayal?
I would’ve given him anything. I would’ve given him everything.
I slip my feet into my Vans trainers and stand. I take a moment to look around the room, and I don’t know whether to smile with the fond memories or curse them.
So many secrets, so many lies.
Turning to face Atticus, even though I can feel him watching my every move, I don’t make eye contact. I have to acknowledge this weakness if I’m ever to conquer it. Without rhyme or reason, this man has a hold over me, and it’s pretty clear it’s as strong now as it was when I was fifteen. I was unbelievably naive to think a several years’ absence would change that.
True love may lay claim on your heart, but first love brands your soul.
He holds the door wide, and I duck under his arm, the scent of us thick on his skin. I draw in a deep breath through my nose, savouring what must be the last time. Even if I do give him his money, I can’t let ‘us’ happen again. I have to believe my self-preservation will kick in at some point because, looking at him now, I know if I let him, he’s going to destroy me all over again. He strides off along the corridor we used to race down as children, and I find I can’t follow. My feet just won’t move. He stops ten paces ahead and turns. A dark scowl alters his face so much, I barely recognise him. Only the eyes look familiar, but I can’t get a read on them.
“Need me to carry you, princess?” He arches a brow, his tone holding a sliver of amusement.
“I…I can’t seem to move; maybe it’s the drugs.” I know this is a lie. I don’t want to go where he’s leading me. I don’t want to open that particular Pandora’s box. I’m not scared; I’m suddenly terrified.
“I didn’t give you that much.” He sighs and stalks back toward me. He swoops me in his arms, and I hate that my body is instantly at ease.
“Why did you give me any at all?”
“It’s complicated.” He dismisses my question with a derisive sniff, and I ignore the brush-off with my heavily sarcasm-laden response.
“Then use small words. I’ll try and keep up.”
“Cute and funny.” He lets out a heavy breath. “You said some things that I needed time to assess.”
“So did you? I wasn’t exactly offered the same level of courtesy.”
“You’ve had plenty of time to process, princess,” he retorts with an accusatory raised brow.
“Tia. Call me Tia, and lets not pretend this is anything other than you getting exactly what you want.”
“I hope that’s the fucking case. My money would be a great start to the list.” He pushes.
“You have a list? See, I only have one thing on my list,” I counter, and money isn’t even on the horizon of things I care about.
“At the moment you have one thing. Trust me, that is going to change.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Patience, princess.” He purses his lips like he’s placating a small child, and my hackles rise at his condescending tone.
“Tia,” I snap.
“Princess, you’ll always be my princess. I thought you would have accepted that by now.”
“Things change, Atticus. People change.”
“Love doesn’t change, and whether you like it or not, I love you, and you love me.” His reply would leave me speechless if it wasn’t true. However, my considered reply is all that matters here.
“And that means shit.”
“We’ll see.” He effortlessly takes the stairs with me in his arms as if he’s carrying no weight at all. He strides down toward the west wing of the Hall and only puts me on my feet when we reach the library.
“Ready?” He turns the oversized iron ball and claw doorknob and pushes one of the double doors open. The rush of stale air hits me hard, bombarding me with more memories than I’m in any state to process. I’m not remotely ready, but I give a sharp nod and walk forward with more confidence than I feel. I curl my hands into tighter fists to steady my shaking fingers.
“Sit.” Atticus’s deeply demanding tone makes me jump. He motions to the high wingback chair, which has been moved from its position by the fireplace and is now facing the oil painting on the far wall. Only one of the eight pairs of thick velvet curtains is drawn open, and the light in the room is limited to one splash of sunlight blazing in a stripe across the rugs and highlighting that one painting. The rest of the room is in pitch darkness despite the daylight pouring in. I have to blink to adjust to the stark contrast across the room as I try and take in what’s changed. Something feels off, only I really can’t see much more of anything, other than the chair and the damn painting.
The painting hiding the family safe.
I lower myself and take the seat as directed, watching as he carefully lifts and removes the painting, exposing the safe.
“The money isn’t in there?” I blurt and curse myself for offering any information so freely, even if he knows it isn’t. He knows I’ve taken it. I told him I had it just before he injected me. I wonder if that’s the reason he did? His question stops my own internal interrogation.
“And how would you know something like that? I mean I know you have it, but how do you know what’s in here exactly?” He places his palm flat on the steel door, just above the dial, and lightly drums his fingers as he fixes his icy blues at me and draws out a slow, knowing grin.
“I don’t. It was a stupid thing to
say.” I shrug lightly and try in vain to hold his gaze.
“Oh, you’re anything but stupid, Tia, so how about you tell me…everything.” His tone drops and softens, coaxing and seductive. He’s bringing out the big guns, and despite my tittering resolve around him, I try and focus on the pain he caused. It’s kept me on this path for so long, and I need to remember that, now more than ever.
Being in this place, where I was once truly happy and being with him, it’s an impossible task to ignore my feelings. I know this now, and I have to embrace them if I am going to stand a chance of getting out unscathed. It’s a coin twirling through my fingers, waiting to be flipped high and land in my palm. One side, my love, and the other side, my pain, both with the head of the man before me.
“You first. You said the money wasn’t yours; what did you mean? Why did you leave me in prison when you knew I was innocent?” I fire the two questions racing across my mind, both fighting for resolution. He leans back against the wall and crosses his long legs at ankles. His jeans hang low, and he hasn’t bothered to button his white shirt all the way down, so there’s a glorious glimpse of his happy trail. He smirks when he notices my wandering eyes, and folds his arms across his chest with a causal ease I find unnerving.
“How about an exchange?” he offers, and I let out a bitter laugh.
“Ha! For the first time in your life you’re not going to get what you want.” I lean over and rest my head in my hand, momentarily enjoying the irritation as it flashes across his face.
“Not for the first time, Tia, not by a long fucking shot.” He pushes off the wall. His frame rigid and looming with rage. “I saw the Will. I fucking signed it, and there was no mention of you in it!”
“I know.” My voice is so calm, I’m surprised. Cass is stunned for an entirely different reason.
“You know…how?” His eyes flit to the safe and back to me.
He follows my gaze to the safe. “The one I signed wasn’t his last Will was it? The one in the safe is his last Will, but you know that too, don’t you?”
I answer since there seems little point pretending, he must know I’ve seen inside the safe. It’s why he’s brought me to this room. Still, judging by the irritation dancing in his eyes, I think it’s a very recent discovery.
“I didn’t, but I do now. How do you?” The lines in his forehead deepen with confusion, and his expression darkens with pure fury. He doesn’t know.
“I think I’ve known for a long time. I just didn’t believe it then.” I calmly shatter his reality and sit bolt upright, holding his unwavering gaze.
“What?” From his stunned whisper, I wonder if he knew any of it. I thought this would give me a rush of pleasure, but he looks utterly broken. I wonder which betrayal hurts the most, mine or his grandfather’s.
“Your grandfather told me.” I say this with no enjoyment. This game has run its course. It ceased being fun, if it ever was, when the truth hurt more than the lies.
“When?”
“He was sick, on drugs, and he told me about my real father and about yours.” I watch as he flinches, and my heart breaks. His jaw clenches, and he recoils as if hit with something physical. The pain strikes him hard, and he takes a moment to compose himself before he speaks.
“So you knew this was all yours when you went to jail?” He sweeps his arm wide across the room and beyond. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I didn’t know, not really, not until I read the actual Will two years ago. Besides, who would’ve believed me?” I tilt my head at his redundant question, astonished it actually requires an answer, but judging by the silence, he’s expecting more than a roll of my eyes. “The one person I thought would help never fucking showed up. I didn’t stand a chance against your mother and her corrupt cops.” He acknowledges my accusation with a tight-lipped nod.
“So you waited until now.”
“I waited, yes. I didn’t have a fucking choice, Cass.” My emotions are bubbling out of control, and I have to check myself before I lose it. He’s hurt, I’m hurt, and the one person who should be hurt is probably sipping champagne, oblivious, or more likely just not giving a shit about the destruction she’s caused.
“Why take the money? It’s all yours. You may not have physical proof without the Will, but you could still—”
“I never wanted the money, Cass; you should’ve known that. I wanted you. I wanted us. I trusted you. The only other person who could’ve helped died. If your grandfather had found out about me sooner, none of this would’ve happened.” My voice picks up speed and pitch as my frustration and anger tint everything a volatile shade of red.
“He did know sooner. He’d always known.” Cass wipes the fury from my breath with this revelation.
“What?” I gasp. Cass nods slowly, sadness transforming his face. My voice falters. “Why not tell me sooner? Why wait until he was dying? Why keep it all in the dark like I’m some dirty little secret. It’s so cruel.”
“Yes, yes it is.” Three strides and he drops to his haunches. He takes my hands in his, and once again, my body sucks up every drop of comfort from the contact like a sponge. Tears prickle behind my eyelids, and I fight to contain all this hurt swelling inside. I can’t believe Oskar would be so cold, so calculating, how he could be just like the woman he claimed to despise.
“Did you know?”
“No.” He shakes his head vigorously. “I only found out a few days ago. I didn’t even realise that the Will I signed wasn’t his last, and I didn’t realise signing it meant I was never going to be a beneficiary. Mother knew, and that’s—” He blinks and hesitates. I easily finish his sentence.
“When she put me in jail.”
“Yes.”
“You believed her…over me. You believed her. I trusted you, heart and soul, remember? And you never came.” There’s so much to be hurt over, yet this is what keeps me awake at night. This is the one thing that gives me the nightmares, leaves me soaked in sweat and screaming the house down until Logan wakes me. Until Logan saves me.
“Grandfather died before I could ask him, and then there was the fucking recording. You never returned my calls, and you never answered a single fucking letter!” He pulls out of my hand, stands, and turns away from my accusation, levelling his own at my feet with a mix of fury and loss in his eyes.
“What recording? What letters?”
“Mother had—” I bark out a bitter laugh, stopping him before he utters anything more ridiculous.
“Oh please, let me stop you there. Your mother told you what exactly? Did what exactly? The woman who realized I was the one true heir gave you a recoding of me doing what? Fucking someone else? Telling someone else I loved them? A recording of me planning to rob the Kraus fortune?”
“Something like that.”
“And you believed her?”
“I didn’t know you were a threat. I didn’t know you were the heir then. I didn’t know shit, Tia.” He drags his hands through his hair, huffing with exasperation as the pieces click into place. “I was fucking heartbroken, Tia. I thought you’d betrayed me. You hurt me more than I thought possible. To me, that meant one thing and only one thing: You didn’t love me because you don’t hurt people you love, remember?
“You told me that. I was fucking broken, but I gave evidence in your defence. I paid for your lawyer, and I still tried to contact you. You ignored me.”
He makes his plea as though it’s tearing him apart. It’s more fucking lies.
“There was no fucking defence, Cass. I had a useless court appointed lawyer who was friends with your fucking mother, and—” I stop myself, shaking the futile fury away with sharp twist of my head. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. It’s done, all of it, done. Your mother is an evil bitch. Your grandfather was the Devil for hiding the truth, and you’re a fucking idiot. No, that’s unfair. We’re both fucking idiots.”
“I’ll take the hit, Tia, but for the record, I did make a statement and…” He lets out a heavy sig
h, and I feel its weight. He drops his head back and stares up to the heavens, taking a long, silent moment before raising his head and staring at me. His eyes are dark and cold enough to make me shiver. “Like you say, it doesn’t matter now. I was in the dark. More so actually, because I never knew any of this until a few fucking days ago. None of that fucking matters. I need the money or—”
“Or what?” I interrupt with a hollow, incredulous laugh. “Please tell me your mother is in danger because that will just make my day. No, that will make my year.”
“She’s still my mother, and yes, she’s in danger, but so are you.” His tone is deadly serious.
“How exactly?”
“You’re the motherfucking heir to the Kraus fortune, Tia. How does that not put you in danger?” These people want money or blood, possibly both.” He’s yelling, his words laced with fear, and it makes my stomach drop. Cass isn’t afraid of anything.
“My blood?” He holds my wide-eyed gaze and nods. I swallow the thick lump in my throat, feeling the full portent in his words. A timely dark shadow passes across the room as clouds race across the sky outside, blocking the sunlight. The temperature in the room plummets, and I find I’ve wrapped my arms tight around my body, rubbing some warmth into the goosebumps.
“Kraus blood, its a matter of honour,” he adds as if he needed to clarify the seriousness of the situation. He didn’t.
“You know this would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic.” I shake my head with a mix of amazement and disbelief. A fortune I never wanted is going to cost me my life if I don’t give him what he wants. The silence is thick as I mull my limited options. I look up to his expectant expression and quell the warm feelings that the concern etching his handsome features is for my life. I can’t be a hundred percent on that; after all, giving him the money saves more than just my arse.
“It’s the company pension, Cass, and I’m not handing it over so you can cover your mother’s mistakes, and she can carry on in her ivory tower as if nothing happened. It’s no more your money than it is mine. It belongs to your employees. I can’t let you ruin people’s lives like this. It’s their safety net, not yours or your mother’s personal piggy bank to plunder. I’m sorry; it’s just not going to happen.”
