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“Did you pay off Albert?” I asked.

  Roth shook his head. “No. I never contacted Albert. He was on retainer for your father, just in case. Albert wasn’t involved in Nicholas’ day-to-day affairs. I know he helped you, though. ”

  I nodded. “He was invaluable in those early days after Dad’s death. I didn’t know what I was doing. He helped me figure out a whole bunch of things. ” I let out a breath. “What about the house? Did you have a hand in getting it sold?”

  Roth shrugged. “Yes, of course. The seller’s market was positively horrendous at that time. You would never have sold it. So I purchased it. Through a series of fronts, of course. ”

  I blinked at him in shock. “You bought it?” You wouldn’t have thought I could be any more surprised at that point, but the shocks just kept coming.

  “Yes. And then resold it for a ridiculously low price to an employee of mine. ” Roth slumped back into the chair. “Are those details really important right now, Kyrie?”

  I shook my head and paced away, folding my arms over my stomach. I felt numb. Shocked. I wasn’t sure what to believe, what to think. Could I even believe him? My gut said he was telling the truth. But what did that mean for me?

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  “So that’s why you were watching me?” I said, after a long silence. It was the only thing I could think to ask. Too many thoughts were competing for space in my head.

  “Yes. I couldn’t get you out of my head. After I smoothed out your financial situation, I came back to New York and went about my business. I’d done what I could, and more than anyone could expect, probably. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. So I checked on you a few times. You seemed to be doing okay, figuring things out. That’s all it was at first: checking up on you. That’s all I ever meant it to be. And then I hired Harris. Things were really picking up for me here, my business getting bigger and bigger, so I really didn’t have the time anymore to go personally to Detroit and check on you. So I sent Harris. Told him no contact under any circumstances, and to make sure you never suspected you were being watched. I didn’t want to creep you out, but I felt responsible for you. It was my fault, your father’s death, and all the consequences of that. I couldn’t just leave you to your own devices. But I knew if you knew…who I was, what I’d done…that you would never have spoken to me. And I just didn’t know how to fake a casual meeting. As the years passed, it became…a bit of an obsession, I suppose. Making sure you were okay. Keeping you safe. But I wouldn’t let myself interfere too much. I told Harris to keep his eye on you, to keep you safe. And he did. Once a month, he’d travel to Detroit and spend a week following you, checking on your affairs, making sure you were okay. ” He swallowed, staring out at the skyline.

  “Then the insurance money ran out, and I wasn’t sure what to do. I’d hoped you would be okay on your own. Because…I knew if you got into too much trouble, I’d be compelled to help. You’d taken so much time off school to just take care of Cal, working during the day to supplement your insurance money, and taking care of your mother…taking care of everyone except yourself. You should have a career by now. A family, maybe. But you don’t, because of me. It was an accident, and I know that, but if I hadn’t tried to force your dad’s hand…. ” He shook his head. “I changed my tactics after that. Shifted to building up my technologies business, plus investments and venture capital and the like. I never took over another company after that. Not like I had done, anyway. I still buy out companies, and do mergers, but only when the deal happens…naturally. ”

  “So then my life got desperate…. ” I prompted. I needed to know how I’d gotten here. What his…angle was. What he’d wanted from me.

  He nodded. “Then your life got desperate. I stayed out as long as I could. But it became clear that you were on the ropes, so to speak, and I’d discovered through various sources that you were about to be let go…I thought about just making them give you a job, but that would only have fixed things temporarily. So I sent you the first check. I hoped…stupidly, perhaps, that you would just…somehow be okay. But you weren’t. Things were piling too high, and you couldn’t ever seem to get ahead. And even if you ever did accomplish your career goals, it wouldn’t solve your financial problems. So I kept sending checks. And the more I watched you, the more I flipped through the photos Harris was sending me…the more I felt like I just…had to know you. I had to. I couldn’t pretend like I was just helping out anymore. So I sent Harris to—”

  “Collect me,” I finished for him.

  He nodded, fingertips pressed together in front of his face. “And I always knew this day would come. That I’d have to tell you. And now I have. ”

  I blinked hard. The numbness was wearing off, and the reality was hitting me: Roth was responsible for Daddy’s death. I’d suffered for years just to survive, because of him. Because of a business deal. I’d nearly starved, and he’d just sat by, hoping I’d “be okay on my own. ”

  He’d killed my father.

  Roth killed my father. An accident. Self-defense. Dad was still dead, and Roth had, accidentally or intentionally, caused his death.

  “I need to—I need to think. I need space. ” I turned toward Roth, tugging the ends of my robe together, struggling to keep from totally losing it. “I don’t know anything anymore. This…it changes everything. Just like you said it would. ”

  Roth took a step toward me, and then another, close enough that I could smell our sex on him still, smell me on him as I looked up into his tumultuous blue eyes, his chest a hard wall in front of me, his hands on my waist. “Kyrie…. ”

  I slammed my fist on his chest, pushing myself away from him. “You killed him. ”

  “No. It was an accident,” he insisted calmly.

  “You killed him!” I screamed, backing away. “He’s still dead, and it’s still your fault!”

  He didn’t flinch. “Yes. ”

  “How did…how did we get here? Why did you bring me here? Why this game? Why…. ” I shook my head. Everything inside me was twisted and shaken up and confused. My feelings for him remained, but they were now competing with a thousand other emotions I couldn’t begin to sort out yet. “Why, Roth? Why? Why couldn’t you have just…left me alone? Let me starve? Let me fumble along in my shitty little life? I would never have known. I wouldn’t have known you…none of this” —I gestured at the bedroom— “would have happened. I’m so…so f**king confused, Roth!”

  He stepped toward me. “Kyrie, please. I brought you here because…I wanted you. I had to know you. I told myself that it would just be for a little while. Just to…see how things went. I had you blindfolded so you wouldn’t recognize me, so we could establish a connection before you put things together. And then…the first time I saw you, standing there in my foyer, afraid but so courageous, determined. Fiery. And I knew, right then, that you were mine. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. ”

  “Any of what?” I glanced up at him. I was seconds from bolting, but I had to know what he meant.

  “Any of that. ” He pointed at the bed, as I had. “That was something…beautiful. Something miraculous and incredible. I never expected that. ” He cupped my face. Hands rough, eyes blazing. Body close and hard and huge. “I never expected to fall for you, Kyrie St. Claire. But I have. ”

  I ripped myself from his grip, stumbling backward, tears falling now. “Goddammit, Valentine! Now you tell me? Now that…god, Jesus. FUCK!” I spun in circles, emotions at a boil, lust for Roth competing with love for Valentine, both at war with my anger for the man who’d killed my father, however accidentally, and confusion over what to do, what to think, what to say, what to feel, where to go. “I’ve got…I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t look at you or be around you. Not and think straight. ”

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  “You’re leaving, then?” Roth asked.

  I choked on a sob “You killed my father, Roth! How am I supposed
to feel? What am I supposed to do?”

  “Very well, then. " He straightened, spine ramrod stiff, jaw set, eyes cold, expression closed. “I’ll have Harris take you where you need to go. ” He snagged his shirt off the floor and tugged it on as he left the bedroom.

  He stopped in the doorway, turned as the cotton fell to cover his carved abs. “I’m letting you leave, Kyrie. But don’t think you can get away from this thing between us. ” He smirked, a hard curve of his lush lips. “Because you can’t. I own you. ”

  And then he was gone, the door clicking closed behind him.

  I dressed slowly, shakily, pulling the sundress on and zipping it up my back. I fled to my quarters, packed my things into my suitcases. I refused to look at the room around me, to think of anything except my next breath, my next step. I took only what was already mine…from before. After everything was packed, I took a shower, forcing myself to keep it short and efficient. I wanted to linger. I wanted talk myself out of going, or out of staying. I wasn’t sure which was true. I needed to go, but part of me wanted to stay. Part of me knew I’d never, ever, find anything like what I had with Valentine. I’d gotten a taste of him, of his world, and I didn’t ever want to leave it. It was more than a palatial home, a suite of rooms stocked with all the best clothes; it was more than the fancy cars and private helicopter flights to the opera. It was more, even, than the sex. And the sex was motherfucking mind-blowing, out-of-this-world incredible. It was Valentine Roth. I’d never met a man like him before, and knew I never would again. So, yeah, I wanted to stay.

  But the fact remained that he was involved in my father’s death and the subsequent unraveling of my life. And I didn’t know how to deal with that. Not even slightly. Panicked emotional overload welled up inside me, choking me, making it hard to see, to breathe, to perform the most basic functions. All I wanted to do was collapse to the floor and sob, but I couldn’t. Not here. Not with him still around.

  So I packed, showered, dressed in an old pair of faded jeans and a WSU T-shirt, gathered my hair into a wet ponytail, and pulled my suitcases to the foyer. Harris was waiting, as was Eliza.

  I nearly cried when I saw Eliza’s unhappy expression. “Miss Kyrie,” she said. “He is a good man. Try to remember that. And I think…he will never care for anyone the way I see him care for you. ”

  I choked. “I have to go, Eliza. ”

  “I know. I see that. It will be lonely here without you. ” She turned on her heel and strode away.

  Harris took my bags and led the way to the parking garage, silent the entire way. It wasn’t until I was sitting in the back of the Mercedes on the way to the airport that Harris said anything.

  “I’ve never seen him treat anyone the way he does you. ”

  I shrugged. “I believe that. ” I met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Did you know?”

  Harris shook his head. “I don’t know the details. I have my suspicions as to…the nature of his interest in you. How that occurred, I mean. Regarding…your father. But he never spoke of it, and it’s not my place to ask. ”

  I only nodded and lapsed into silence the rest of the way to the airport. My mind was racing, a thousand distorted thoughts clamoring and jangling, emotions rifling through me one after another, and it was all I could do to remain calm and coherent. At the airport, Harris parked near a hangar. Inside was a small private jet, not the same one we’d flown in on. He loaded my things into the jet himself, had a brief exchange with a technician of some sort, and then led me up into the cabin of the jet. He took the pilot’s seat, and went through the process of verifying a flight plan and readying the airplane for flight. I sat in one of the deep, luxurious chairs, buckled and waiting, thoughts and emotions whirling.

  Eventually we took off, although I barely noticed. There was no flight attendant this time, no champagne. No blindfold waiting for me on the other side.

  What did await me when we landed? I didn’t know.

  The flight passed in an endless blur, minutes dragging like days, yet the hours flitting by in a heartbeat.

  Another Mercedes was, inexplicably, waiting for us on the tarmac when we arrived. Harris moved my luggage from the jet to the car and still, in silence, drove me away.

  “Where to, Miss St. Claire?”

  “Layla’s. ” It was all I could think of. I didn’t even bother asking if he knew where she lived.

  But of course he did. I’d retreated into false numbness. Everything was still there, roiling deep down, but I’d managed to shut myself down until I knew it was safe to have my breakdown.

  I knocked on Layla’s door at six in the evening, Harris standing behind me, holding my suitcases.

  She opened the door, saw me, and burst into tears. “Kyrie! You’re home!” She pulled me into a hug, then backed away, examining my face. “Oh, shit. This ain’t good. ”

  “No…. ” The word was barely audible, thick with barely held-back tears.

  “Give me those,” she said, taking the suitcases from Harris.

  Harris paused. “Do you require anything else from me, Miss St. Claire?”

  I shook my head. “Thank you, Harris. ” I managed that much in a steady voice.

  He nodded, went down the steps, and then turned back. “Kyrie? Give him a chance. If you can. ” It was the first time he’d ever used my given name.

  I couldn’t answer, so I only nodded, and watched him go.

  Layla pulled me inside, led me to the couch, and sat beside me. “What happened, Key?”

  I only shook my head, heart in my throat, tears pricking my eyes. Finally, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I burst into tears, and they didn’t stop until I’d cried myself to sleep. The sobs came long and hard and relentless, subsiding momentarily, only to begin afresh, wracking me hour after hour.

  Layla curled up on the couch with me, holding me as only a best girlfriend can, not asking any questions, just letting me cry, letting me sleep.

  14

  THE STORY

  Waking up was not a pleasant experience, this time around. I didn’t even get that fleeting moment of blissful forgetfulness before reality asserted itself. I woke up and my very first thought was: Valentine killed my father. My second and third thoughts were, respectively: Valentine loves me, and I’m in love with Valentine.

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  And then, of course, the inevitable, unanswerable question: What the FUCK am I supposed to do now?

  I rolled over, my face smushed up against the rough fabric of the couch, which stank of old pot and cigarette smoke and worn-in dust. I coughed, rolled away, and sat up, then rubbed my face with both hands, as if to push back the fresh wave of tears that were already bubbling behind my eyelids. The scent of coffee and fresh-baked cinnamon rolls finally filtered through to my awareness. I looked up to see Layla approaching, two mugs of coffee held in one hand, a plate of gooey, icing-glazed cinnamon rolls in the other.

  “I know what my bitch needs,” she said, setting everything down on the battered wood and scratched glass coffee table. “Caffeine and Cinnabon. ”

  I took the coffee and sipped at it, then grabbed a roll and took a massive, extremely unladylike bite. “You’re my lifesaver,” I said, my mouth full.

  “I know. ” She matched me chomp for chomp, and we proceeded to devour the entire batch of rolls.

  Stuffed, I leaned back and wiped at the corners of my mouth with my thumb. I flopped my head to the side, meeting Layla’s concerned brown eyes. “Okay,” I said. “Ask. ”

  “OHMYGOD what happened?” Layla shrieked. She was the master of the ear-piercing, girly freak-out.

  I sighed. “It’s a really, really long story. ”

  “Okay, well, I’ve read War and Peace, so it can’t be any longer than that. Jesus, I’m stuffed. ” Layla pivoted on the couch and extended her feet across my thighs, laying her head on the armrest and her hands across her belly. “I should not have had those last two cinna
mon rolls. Why’d you let me pig out like that, Key?”

  I laughed and smacked her leg. “I did question your decision to eat that last one, if you’ll remember. ”

  “True. But it was just so good. ” Layla let out a massive belch, and then covered her mouth with her hand as if shocked. “Seriously, Kyrie. I want to know everything. ”

  I tugged my hair out of its ponytail and jerked my fingers through the tangles. “Okay. But what I’m about to tell you stays between us. Like, you can’t breathe a word to anyone, not even Eric. ”

  “What is this, some kind of national security crisis?”

  “Might as well be. ” I let my expression tell Layla how serious I was. “He takes his privacy very seriously, and even though I left, I’m not going to compromise that. ”

  She raised her hands in an I surrender gesture. “Okay, okay. Mum’s the word. Jeez. ”

  I took a big breath, held it, and then let it out. “His name is Valentine Roth. ”

  Layla’s eyes widened. “Holy shit. What a name. ”

  “No kidding. And he’s…honestly? The most insanely drop-dead gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life. I mean, not even Alexander Skarsgård can top him. And he kind of looks like our boy Alex. ” I had to blink back emotion. “Six foot four and built like a Greek god, blond hair, blue eyes. God, his eyes. He has this way of…looking into you. And his voice…Layla, you don’t even understand. I was blindfolded for the first three days, so every time I was around him, all I had to go on was the sound of his voice. Like, he can seduce you just with his voice. His words. Fuck me, Layla. The things he said to me…. ”

  “Wait. Waitwaitwait. ” Layla sat up, swung her legs off me, and leaned forward. “You were blindfolded? For three days?”

  I nodded. “If I was around Valentine, I was blindfolded. And I didn’t know his name until after he finally took the blindfold off. It was…a game. Not a fun ha-ha game, though. A very serious exercise in trust. I don’t know how to describe what happened. What he did to me. The way he touched me, spoke to me. He could get me so turned on with just a few words, a kiss, a touch, and then he’d leave me hanging. He made me…crazy. Just crazy. I didn’t even know what he looked like, and I wanted him. Just the way he talked to me. You know what he said to me, the first time we met? Well, ‘met’ isn’t really the right word. When he brought me to his tower—”