Shame (Ruin #3) (6 page)

“I graduated with honors from Harvard, double-majored in psychology and law, and have had background checks on at least ten individuals at this very party. Security is waiting in every corner of the room for someone to yell bomb or pull out a gun, and I own every single one of them. I’m safe. Now… let’s talk about that week.”

CHAPTER NINE

I asked her what she thought about death.

She shivered in my arms and said she didn’t like talking about it. Why discuss something so horrible when we were so young?

I laughed along with her and kissed her forehead, my heart twisting in my chest as the demons told me to hurt her when all I really wanted to do? Lie next to her, touch her, make her feel safe, even if it was from me. Even if it would always be from me. Something was happening between us, and I was powerless to stop it. How do you stop the wind? How do you quit the rain? You take shelter, but what if the shelter is the reason for your downfall in the first place? —
The Journal of Taylor B.

Lisa

“
S
ECURITY?”
I
WAS
probably gawking. Who the heck was this guy? I mean, I knew Wes and Gabe took security at their events really seriously. But who else was hosting? I tried to think back to the invitation. Had a third name been engraved on it?

“You seem to be focusing awfully hard. Your week
must
have been hell.” His smooth voice drew my attention back to his face.

I wasn’t one of the girls, the ones who fawned over male beauty. I mean, I’d been in the modeling industry since I was twelve. I saw pretty on a daily basis, but he wasn’t pretty. He was so far beyond good-looking that I had to keep averting my eyes like a total middle-schooler.

Tall, muscular with beautiful thick hair that had twists of gold and copper, though it was messily arranged around his mask like he’d just gotten off a motorcycle and decided it was good enough. His hands were huge; they cupped my hips like they were made to fit my body. And his smile? Bright. Beautiful. Trusting. And, admittedly, I was a little frightened that my first instinct, my gut reaction, was to trust him, to follow him down the rabbit hole and ask for more and more until I was sated. I didn’t react to guys like that. His touch didn’t make me recoil, his smile didn’t leer, and he was honest about what he thought, saying exactly what he was thinking without hesitation. That type of confidence was sexy, and he wore it well.

In fact, he reminded me of the professor, though the professor was such a stiff I doubt he even knew what a masquerade was, let alone owned a suit as nice as the one this guy was wearing.

“So,” he prompted, his full lips curling into another devastating smile as his light eyes twinkled with amusement. “Tell me a secret.”

I froze.

I had nothing against secrets. But that had been a game Taylor and I had played… something intimate, something he’d used against me repeatedly in order to get me to do his bidding when he was angry or jealous.

I shivered in response.

“Or…” His smooth voice matched his captivating smile, and the mystery man changed tactics. “…just tell me a truth.”

“This last week…” I swallowed, ignoring the painful reminder in my chest. “…I had to switch mailboxes seven times.”

“Seven?” His eyes widened. “Not happy with your PO location? Hmm, I highly doubt that. The only reason a woman would go to all that trouble would be to hide from something or someone… tax evasion? No, too young.” His eyes scanned me. “Crazy ex–boyfriend, then? Or stalker?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but he gave a slight shake of his head. His eyes examined me from head to toe. “Too polite to report a crazy stalker or ex-boyfriend. My guess is you’ve been trying to hide from the individual and hope it will go away with a simple address change.”

“It will,” I defended. “Besides, ever since information was released into the public—”

His eyes narrowed. “The public?”

“Never mind.” I shook my head. The last thing I needed was to let him know who I really was. That
always
gave me unwanted attention. “So I’m in college.” Not the smoothest subject change I’d ever tried, but it worked. He seemed amused. His lips curved into a grin. Something was so familiar and ridiculously hot about that grin.

“Twenty?”

I gawked as his mouth nearly brushed mine with the ending of his answer. “Huh?”

“Your age.”

“Yeah.”

“Sophomore?”

“Can you stop psychoanalyzing me now?” I said, breathless.

He laughed heartily. His head fell back just slightly, giving me a view of his strong neck.

Something was seriously wrong with me if I was lusting after the man’s neck.

“Alright, so tell me about your week, let me guess your new professor is an absolute prick.”

I joined in his laughter, recalling all the times that week that Professor Blake had picked on me in class. “Yeah, something like that. I think he hates me.”

“Who could hate you?”

“Ah, there’s that flattery again.”

He dipped me, the motion stealing any control I’d deluded I’d had in his arms. He brought me back against his chest and said in a husky voice. “I prefer truth.”

I fought to not roll my eyes. “Fine, and apparently it’s really easy. Apparently I offend him by breathing.”

“The only reason a man would be offended by your breathing is because of the distraction it causes.”

“Me living is a distraction?”

“To me?” His eyes narrowed as he twirled me then pulled me back into his arms. “To the male species?” He lowered me into a dip, his face inches from mine as he whispered, “I imagine your presence is a distraction everywhere you go.”

I swallowed convulsively as the music ended, and he brought me back to an upright position.

A man tapped him on the shoulder and whispered in his ear. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, I wrapped my arms around myself while he engaged in conversation. I read no expression on his face. It was like he’d gone blank.

When he turned back around, that dead-sexy smile was back, and I could have sworn my knees knocked together a bit.

“Walk with me.”

I nodded and grasped his gloved hand with mine.

He smoothly led me through the crowds. We came to a stop once we reached the stage; he released my hand and jogged up.

Uh, did Wes and Gabe know that this guy was going to make a speech?

I looked behind me for the guys. The music stopped.

When I glanced back up at the stage, Wes and Gabe were joining mystery man. They slapped him on the back and then pumped each others hands. Okay, who was this guy? Seriously?

“Thank you all for coming,” Wes said into the microphone. “With your help tonight and the generous donations of W. Enterprises, we were able to raise over one million toward our goal of two million by the end of the year! Thank you so much!”

Gabe clapped along with Wes. They stepped out of the way while my mystery man stood tall amongst the two guys, not dwarfing them but easily holding his own. He coughed into his fist then shoved both hands into his pockets; it looked practiced, as if he wanted to show an heir of vulnerability. His eyes flashed toward mine, giving me a dark possessive look, before addressing the crowd.

“As CEO of W. Enterprises, I’m more than happy to thank all the donors, and on behalf of my father, we truly appreciate everyone’s continuing support toward bettering the healthcare in the greater Seattle area.”

More applause.

But the pieces weren’t falling into place. So he was a CEO of a company? That fit, I guess. He was dressed well, and he’d mentioned security, but what CEO had that type of security?

The guys filed off the stage. Gabe purposely bumped into me and winked before wandering off, probably to find Saylor, and Wes stopped right in front of me.

“So…” His grin was shameless. “Having fun with Charming, Miss Cinderella?”

I narrowed my eyes at him and crossed my arms. “You mean that’s the guy—”

“I think I deserve an
‘I’m sorry, Wes, for doubting your ability.’
”

I held up my hand. “Not happening.”

“Of course, the great Wes Michels knows the prettiest girl in the room.” Mystery man walked up to us. He wrapped an arm around me, tugging me closer to his body. I liked it. I shouldn’t, but I did.

“Funny, I don’t see my wife.” Wes winked. “And yes, Tristan, this is—”

“No last names!” I blurted, sounding like a complete idiot.

“We don’t want to break the rules.” Mystery man leaned down, his breath hot on my neck. “Do we?”

Oh we do, we really, really do. “Nope.” My voice came out like a squeak. “Sorry, Wes, but no names until the unmasking at midnight!”

Wes held up his hands and grinned. “That should be very, very interesting.” He covered his face with his hand and looked away. “Yeah, I’m going to go find my wife… and dance. You two…” He licked his lips. “You have fun until midnight, then.”

“Until midnight.” I nodded, leaning further into the warmth of the solid body next to me. He smelled like expensive cologne — not overpowering, just inviting. So inviting I fought the urge to turn my head a bit and breathe him in.

“So…” His low voice vibrated. “…shall we dance under the stars?”

Laughing, I pulled away and stole a glance at his face. “Who are you?”

“Nobody important.”

I sighed.

“And you? The most beautiful girl in the room… who are you?” His eyes took on another dark hue, captivating me, making me want to lean in, discover his secrets.

“For tonight?” My body shook with desire. I wanted more. For the first time in a really long time, I wanted more, and I wanted it to be him. “Your dance partner.”

He brought my hand to his lips. His light eyes brimmed with hunger as he placed a gentle kiss across my wrist. “And tomorrow? What am I tomorrow?”

Was I shaking? “I guess we’ll see.”

“So strategic in her answers. I love a woman who knows her mind.” He dropped my hand and led me toward the double doors. When he pushed them open, we were suddenly on a balcony looking at the Seattle skyline.

“Beautiful.” I breathed. “And look, no rain!”

“Please don’t tell me you’re one of those.” He laughed, leaning against the railing as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

“What do you mean?” I turned toward him, my breathing labored at the sight. He looked so predatory. Even relaxed, he seemed ready to pounce.

“One of those horrible people who spread rumors about Seattle having nothing but rain when the exact opposite is true.” His head tilted in amusement. His full lips pressed together as he glanced briefly at the skyline then back at me, revealing a sensual smile that took my breath away. It was scary the way a complete stranger could make me feel, the desire he evoked in me with one look.

“It does rain a lot here.” I found my voice and took a tentative step toward him.

The tip of his tongue slid through his mouth, grazing his top lip, almost like he was thinking about licking my lips, not his. “I’d like to call it mist.”

“Fine, it mists a lot in Seattle.” My eyes couldn’t look away from his; like a trance, I kept watching his face, entertained by each movement he made.

“Magical,” he whispered reverently. “The mist. No way would I be coming out and saying that about you after only knowing you for a mere hour… don’t you think? After all, I’m honest, but I don’t want to come on too strong by telling you that under the stars you look like an angel… a dark angel.”

I tried to shrug, to appear unaffected by his words. “Hmm, isn’t darkness bad? Wouldn’t that mean I’m fallen?”

He laughed, pulling his hands out of his pockets and gently tugging me the rest of the way toward him. His legs braced either side of mine as my dress puffed around him. Strong fingers grazed my jaw as he kissed me softly on the cheek and whispered, “I’m pretty sure those are the best kind.”

CHAPTER TEN

“Prove you love me,” I demanded one night when we were at a party.

She gave me that stare, the one that said she was afraid but didn’t know how to fix it. “Tay…” She shook her head. “…you know I love you. What more do you want me to do?” She was on the verge of tears.

I felt equal parts bad and good. Her reaction sated me. Her tears destroyed me. I needed to be numb again. It was the only way to keep the demons out, the only way to keep everyone out. The pain was too much. So I reached into my pocket and pulled out a handful of pills then tossed them into my mouth and whispered, “Fine, you just killed me then.” —
The Journal of Taylor B.

Tristan

S
HE WAS LIKE
a drug. With each glance she gave me, I wanted to take more; with each word she shared, I leaned in. Something about her was dark. I wasn’t one to normally be attracted to that sort of thing. I was the golden child, after all. But it was fun — in that single stolen moment — being myself and wondering what if I didn’t have to worry about the journals, or Taylor, or Lisa? What if it was just me in this moment with this stunning woman?

What would I do?

I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against hers. A shaky breath escaped her lips. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Are you trying to prepare me or ask permission?” she whispered, her voice beckoning me like a siren’s call.

“Both.” My lips hovered near hers. “I figure it’s only fair.”

“Fair?” She pulled back slightly. “How so?”

“Ten thousand.” I angled my head and watched the pulse jump on her neck. “That’s how many nerve endings, on average, are in your lips. Consequently, when your body anticipates pleasure, the build-up is the best part. Imagine, those ten thousand nerves are swelling, allowing blood to surge through them in anticipation of… what?” I swept my tongue across her lower lip and whispered, “Of being touched. I ask permission, not because I’m being a gentleman. It’s actually the complete opposite. I ask permission so your brain anticipates the pleasure before I’ve ever even touched you.”