Charge, page 9
After visibly swallowing, she nodded, then released my hand. I clapped Kelvin on the back who’d be staying behind to help with clean-up before getting in the car.
As soon as I’d closed the door, Thea’s hand found mine again.
Using my left hand to turn the ignition, I put the car into Drive with our joined hands.
Thea didn’t look at me once, but she held my hand in a tight grip the entire drive back.
10
THEA
I’d never forget the smell of all that blood. The image of his blown-out brain was burned into my head, and the scent would forever linger. I never thought things could get this bad.
I’d been held at gunpoint and beaten on. That should have been the worst of it. Turned out things could get much, much worse. So much for all the self-defense classes I’d taken. I’d frozen in fear, unable to so much as lift my leg to kick someone.
The car came to a stop in the circular driveway. I was still clutching Archer’s hand, unable to let go.
“We’re back.”
His voice was soft, sounding as if he was afraid to make too much noise. I didn’t blame him for being careful. I was about one drop of blood away from going over the edge.
When I reached for the buckle to undo my seat belt, my hands shook so much that I was unable to even touch it. “Why the h-hell is it n-not w-working?”
The words came out stuttered, my whole body now competing for the number one spot in the shaking world championship.
Leaning over, Archer put his hands on mine, stilling my frantic movements. He lifted my hand up, then pushed the buckle down, freeing me.
I didn’t move, afraid my feet wouldn’t carry me.
Archer got out, then leaned down so we were at eye level. “I’m going to carry you inside.”
The only thing I managed in response was a jerky nod, images of what had happened showing on repeat in my head.
He came around to my side, then lifted me out of the car without a sound, not even a tiny groan at the weight. Kicking the car door shut, he tightened his hold, then walked us back into the house. Every single light was on, people rushing around.
Archer ignored everyone, not stopping to answer questions. Once in my room, he lowered me onto the bed. He then took my shoes off and helped me get under the blanket.
When he moved away as if to leave the room, I gripped his arm. “Please don’t leave. I can’t bear to be alone right now.”
Without hesitation, he sat on the edge of the bed, taking my hand in his again.
We sat in silence until my eyes grew heavy. But every time I closed them, all I could see was blood and brain matter.
I curled up, the need to cry overwhelming but no tears appearing. I was exhausted and desperate for sleep, but at the same time, I was too scared to close my eyes.
The blankets lifted, and a warm body encased me. The action made my throat close up. I’d missed Archer with a desperation that wasn’t healthy. And when his arms wound around me and he murmured into my hair, the dam broke, and the sobs racking my body shook both of us.
“Tell me what to do to make this better,” he rasped, his face still buried in my hair. “I can’t bear to see you cry.”
I didn’t answer, just clutched his arm that was holding me to him.
He stayed with me until I drifted off, too exhausted to keep my eyes open any longer.
The next morning, Archer was gone, the sheets cold.
Once I shook off the drowsiness, the need to take a shower overtook anything else, closely followed by the urge to burn my clothes.
I had to make sure the sheets followed the fate of my clothes. The thought of ever sleeping in them again made me want to throw up.
Pushing the blankets off me, I lifted my legs to the side of the bed. I stood up but had to close my eyes to stop the dizziness from taking me under.
Once I’d made it to the shower, I took my clothes off, then turned the water to scalding hot. After scrubbing every inch of my skin, then scrubbing it again, I sat down, letting the water pelt down on me.
After I finally got out, I dressed in yoga pants and one of William’s old sweaters.
Too restless to go back to bed, I made my way to the kitchen. After all, physically, there was nothing wrong with me. Maybe Jacques had made lemon meringue pie. I wouldn’t say no to a piece of pie.
“Miss, you shouldn’t be out of bed.” Rosie, one of the maids, rushed up to me. Obviously everyone already knew what happened.
“I’m fine, Rosie, really. But I need some food.”
I sank onto one of the bar stools, exhausted from walking down to the kitchen.
Jacques was by my side in an instant, hugging me to him. “We were so worried.” Kissing my head, he released me. “Are you hungry? I can make you whatever you want.”
“Do you have any lemon meringue?”
Jacques grinned and walked off with a flourish and a stream of French words. One minute later, half a lemon meringue sat in front of me. The piece was so large it didn’t fit on the plate.
The room was too quiet, the normal bustle absent. Nobody talked, and they all moved with more care than usual.
Rosie looked up from where she’d been preparing lunch, her face lighting up when she glanced behind me. “Mr. Bennet. Would you like anything to eat? I’d be happy to prepare you something.”
At the mention of Archer’s name, I spun around in my seat, coming nose to chest with him.
“You feeling better?” His voice was a low grumble, and I longed to lean into him, to bury my face in his T-shirt.
Nodding, I attempted a smile that slid right off my face again when I tilted my head back to look at him. His eyes narrowed, and his chin rose. It was my least favorite look of his. It gave him an air of arrogance, of superiority.
“I’m okay.” Breaking eye contact, I looked at the spotless tiles instead. “Thank you so much for last night.”
“I’m sorry for overstepping. I shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was cold, his words slicing me open. “It should have been your husband with you, not me,” he said, widening the cut. He cleared his throat, diverting his attention to Rosie. “A sandwich would be great. I’m not picky what’s on it, as long as it’s not tuna.”
“You got it, Mr. Bennet.”
Unable to let it go, I pulled myself up, scraping up the last of my courage and locking eyes with him again. “But he wasn’t. And I’m grateful that you were.”
His stony gaze didn’t waver. “Instead of staying put like we’d advised him to do, he went to France while there was still the possibility of another attack. An attack that happened.”
I felt immediately defensive. “He’s a busy man. And I’m fine. There’s no need for him to be here.”
“You’re his wife. Nothing should be more important to him than you.”
Pushing my barely touched plate away, I slid off the stool. The movement brought me even closer to Archer, something I hadn’t considered.
But I was too angry to care about being so close to him for once. “He’s a good guy. And I don’t need him to be here to hold my hand.” I only needed the angry giant currently scowling down at me. But of course, I’d never say that to him. Especially not if he was angry at having to step in last night.
Stomping out of the room with no destination in mind but to put distance between us before I lost my mind in front of the staff, I bumped my way through the house.
Eventually I made it outside, ending up at the gazebo overlooking the ocean. Hands braced on the banister, I lowered my head, breathing in the familiar salty air. This was one of my favorite places on the property, and I’d added cushions, blankets, and a stash of books over the years.
Footsteps sounded behind me, Archer’s presence taking my breath away with its angry intensity. “Someone just tried to hurt you again, yet your husband isn’t even answering his phone. You’re lucky he has three guys with him who do know how to answer a phone. At least we know he’s safe, and once again it was only you who had to suffer from his poor choices.”
The anger bubbled up, and I whirled around, stepping so close that the tips of our feet were touching. I shoved him, but he didn’t so much as move.
My body shook from the wave of anger and helplessness that overtook me. I was so sick of having to watch what I said, of pretending Archer meant nothing to me. And my already brittle façade crumbled.
“He’s with his boyfriend,” I yelled, then pushed him again, shocked at my words. “And since his boyfriend lives in France, that means it’s almost a thirty-hour flight to get back here. Even if he had answered his phone, he wouldn’t be able to get here until tomorrow.”
Archer’s usually expressionless face morphed into one of disbelief. We both stood there, me breathing hard, him barely taking a breath.
And then I found myself in his arms, his mouth on mine, his kiss punishing and angry. Startling out of my initial shock, I arched into him, my arms going around him, anchoring him to me. The images of what had happened in the alley disappeared, replaced with the feel of Archer’s lips. Of Archer’s tongue stroking mine. Of Archer’s hands on my body.
Our teeth clashed, and our tongues fought for dominance. It was messy, it was unforgiving, and it was everything I needed.
My greedy hands roamed his back and sides, sliding under his shirt. I didn’t know how long we stood there, but I knew I wasn’t ready for it to end when Archer pulled back. We were both panting hard, standing close enough that the hard tips of my breasts brushed against his chest with each breath.
The stimulation was almost too much, but I couldn’t step back. This was everything I’d ever wanted. And I was about to screw it up. “You can’t tell anyone. He’ll be ruined if his business partners find out.”
Brushing a hand through his hair, he leaned into me. “What the fuck, Thea? Did you know about this before you married him?”
Not stepping back, I nodded. “I did. We have an arrangement. And it’s worked well so far. Well, at least it did until now.”
“Why would you do something like that? If you were that desperate, I would have married you. You didn’t have to sell yourself.”
Narrowing my eyes, I took a deep breath in. “You make it sound like I’m a prostitute. Which clearly I’m not, since my husband isn’t interested in what’s between my legs. He only needed someone to play his wife.”
But if I was honest, I had sold myself. It had always been one of my worries and the reason I’d nearly said no to William’s proposal. But the money I would get once I’d fulfilled my contract was enough to set me up for the rest of my life.
Archer groaned, then looked at the ceiling of the gazebo before stepping back. Pacing back and forth, he grumbled to himself before walking back up to me, this time leaving room between us.
Pity.
He hung his head, shaking it, before turning his eyes back on mine. “Wait, does Ever know?”
“She found out that William was gay a little while ago, but she doesn’t know that we signed a contract. One that expires in four years.”
“Four years? And what happens then?”
“We get a divorce, and I walk away.”
“How much is he paying you to give up your life?”
I turned away from him, facing the ocean once more. “None of your business.”
A warm body pressed to my back, and I fought the urge to arch into him. The contact made my legs wobble, and my hands itched to reach back and touch him again.
“Now that’s where you’re mistaken. It’s my business because you are my business. Now, how much are you getting?”
“Five million dollars.”
He sucked in a breath. “You don’t need the money.”
Letting out a harsh chuckle, I turned my head to the side. “Now that’s where you’re wrong. I’m useless at pretty much everything. I’ve tried different college courses and failed them all. I have no skills. I barely even finished high school. I’m sick of barely surviving each month.”
“That’s a load of crap. You’re the most amazing painter I’ve ever met. You could easily sell your art.”
My throat closed up, and I turned my head back to face forward. “You’re the only one who thinks so.” My voice was a whisper, barely audible over the rushing of the ocean.
He tugged on a strand of my hair. “And who have you shown your paintings to besides me?”
“Ever, Sofie and William. But Ever’s my best friend, so she has to say they’re good. And William is too nice to say something bad about anything I do. He was even proud of me for getting 50 percent on a test. And Sofie would never want to hurt my feelings by saying she didn’t like my paintings.”
My voice cracked, my body softening, leaning into him. The feeling of his warmth at my back and his arm around my middle was everything.
“I don’t know why you’ve never believed in yourself.” He lowered his head, his mouth now on the side of my head, his breath brushing against my hair with every word.
“Because I’m useless, just like Mom always said.” My voice came out in a hoarse whisper. I’d worked my whole life at not becoming like my mom. But it looked as if I’d turned into her anyways.
“That’s a load of crap, and you know it.”
Lowering my head, I took a deep breath. “You and Ever are the only people who believe in me. And now William.”
His arm around my middle tightened. “That’s because you have a rare talent. One you’ve always hidden.” Turning me around, he put a finger under my chin, lifting it. “Show me what you’re currently working on.”
Unable to deny him the request, I walked back to the house, holding on to his hand, unconcerned for once what the staff would think. Nobody but Ciel and I knew William was gay.
But it would be impossible for them not to notice the separate bedrooms and William’s frequent absences. Archer didn’t seem to care what the staff might think, his grip firm.
As long as the staff only thought I was having an affair, William’s secret was safe. Besides, Archer was my bodyguard. If it came down to it, I could probably come up with an explanation for why he was leading me through the house. And I was certain nobody would have seen us in the gazebo, as it was hidden from view of the house.
Archer’s long strides meant I had to run to keep up. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but my legs are a lot shorter than yours.”
Slowing down, he pulled me closer. “Sorry. Habit. And I’m well aware of what every part of your body looks like. Including your incredible legs.”
I tripped, partly due to surprise and partly because of the warmth that suffused my body at his words. They filled me with hope. That there was a chance for us. That he might think of me as more than a friend. That maybe our age difference wasn’t as much of a hurdle as I’d always thought.
We made it to my room without passing anyone. Guess the staff are still on a mission to not disturb me.
Archer strode through my bedroom door as if he’d done it a million times before, kicking it closed as soon as we were both inside. “Show me.”
Instead of answering, I walked him to the easel set up by the window.
Archer released my hand, stepping up behind me. His body curved around mine, and he studied the painting in front of us. It was of my view out the window.
I craned my head to look at him. His face had gone soft, the constant tension he seemed to carry with him ebbing away further and further.
He didn’t say a word. But he didn’t have to. His upturned lips and the absence of his frown told me all I needed to know.
And despite my earlier reservation, I was now happy he was looking at it. Painting had always been my escape whenever I’d felt helpless and trapped. And for him to think so highly of something I’d only ever considered a form of therapy was uplifting.
A few drawings and canvases leaned against the wall, and Archer walked over, examining each one. Only when he’d studied every single one did he turn around, still holding the last canvas he’d looked at. I knew which one it was. It was on the bottom of the pile, and I hadn’t looked at it since putting it there.
It was a drawing of Archer. He’d known I’d been drawing him at the time and indulged me, posing jokingly. I’d captured him mid laugh, his head thrown back, his neck muscles pronounced. He’d only been eighteen.
But every time I moved to throw it out, something had held me back. And I’d always kept it in my room instead of the pool house.
At least he didn’t know about the more recent drawing of him I’d done. It was safely stashed in my nightstand drawer. Since I’d used paper instead of a bulky canvas, it was much easier to hide.
“I can’t believe you kept this.”
Heat creeped up my cleavage, my ears burning. Butterflies fluttered wildly around my stomach.
He set the canvas down next to the others and breached the distance between us until he was close enough that all I had to do was lift a hand to touch him. “Can I ask you something?”
“The fact that you feel the need to ask doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”
He took a strand of my hair as if he couldn’t help himself, a playful grin playing on his face. “It’s not that bad.”
Sucking in a breath, I resisted the urge to lean into his hand that was still playing with my hair. “Okay.”
There really had never been another answer to give. I wanted to know what his question was.
His eyes were on mine, something dark glittering in them I couldn’t decipher. “Do you still only think of me as your best friend’s little brother?”
I hadn’t been with anyone since I married William. Hooking up with someone had never sounded appealing. A one-night stand wouldn’t have been the emotional connection I so desperately craved.
Now here I was, complicating my life more than I’d ever thought possible. Which was why I answered honestly. In for a penny and all that.
“It’s been a long time since I only thought of you as my best friend’s little brother.”
The confession tumbled out of me. Archer had always been hard to read, but now he didn’t show a hint of emotion. Did I say too much?
