Untamed: (Heath & Violet) (Beg For It) (27 page)

I’d trusted her. I’d
let her in. I’d held her and loved her and had been counting the
days until I could see her again, either me visiting her or her
coming back to me.

Guess she had plans now
to come back to Watson, Vermont. So she could exploit my family,
somehow try to implicate me in my father’s death, and completely
ruin the life I’d taken years to build here. Hot Off the Grid.
Apparently I was what was being served up hot on a platter. As for
off the grid? Not so much anymore. I had guys with cameras waiting
for me outside my front door. Nothing would be the same again.

I grabbed a drinking
glass near me and hurled it at the wall. There, that smashed and
crashed the way I wanted. But it didn’t make me feel any better.

§

I didn’t go out the
whole day. Instead, I played an endless game of twenty questions. No
one had any fun at all.

“Were you ever going
to tell me?” Dave kicked things off, arriving at my doorstep,
wondering who the hell I really was. I hauled him inside before the
cameramen feasted on him like tigers on a wounded gazelle.

“Can I get you a
beer?” I asked, figuring most conversations went better with one in
your hand.

“No Dom Perignon?”

Ah, so it was going to
go down that way, was it? I grabbed us both beers, but Dave didn’t
stop looking at me like I was an alien. I did the best I could to
explain it to him, but he still left looking as confused as when he’d
first arrived. I couldn’t tell him any of the shit he’d seen on
that promo wasn’t true. I was the heir of the late billionaire
Richard Kavanaugh. My British grandmother did have a title. My
brother Ash was a world-famous rockstar. All of my protests about how
it didn’t matter to me and wasn’t who I really was just made me
sound more like a grade-A twit.

Minutes after he left,
my phone rang with Harriet wondering where that free PR windfall
she’d thought had come her way had gone to.

“Did you know the
whole time the show was going to be about you instead of the town?”
she asked.

“Nope.” Either way,
though, I was a tool. My choices were either I was the guy who’d
gotten himself sucker-punched, duped by a cute girl with some great
curves and a pretty smile. Or I was the asshole who’d worked
himself out a sweet TV deal at the expense of the town. Oh, and by
the way I was a mega-rich douche.

Harriet’s best advice
to me was that I lay low for a while. She’d gotten caught up in the
excitement. Everyone had. People didn’t like the idea that I’d
stolen the show—their show. Plus lied about who I really was. Maybe
the best thing for it was to get out of town until it all blew over.

“Maybe you’re
right,” I reluctantly agreed, wondering how things had changed so
quickly. A day ago I’d felt like everything was coming together, my
life just the way I wanted it with an amazing woman by my side.
Today, everything was coming apart.

“What in God’s name
were you thinking?” I’d put off following Nelson’s instructions
and calling my mother. But there was no getting around it. My mother
called me. I had to sit down for it, her words blasting through the
speakerphone as I sat on the edge of my bed with my head in my hands.

“Heathcliff, I
expected more from you.” She sounded so disappointed, resigned more
than angry, as if she’d simply been waiting for me to join the
ranks of those who hadn’t lived up to what she’d hoped.

“I had no idea this
was going to happen.” My words sounded hollow, even to me. I should
have known the risks. My first instincts had been spot-on. A reality
show in Watson was a bad, bad idea and Violet was nothing but
trouble. Unfortunately, I’d quickly forgotten all of that.

“Nelson said you
signed a consent form?” She sounded both exhausted and incensed, a
mixture only my mother could master.

I rubbed my temples,
the phone on my lap. “I didn’t know what I was signing.”

“You should know
better than that. Never sign anything until Nelson—”

“I know,” I
interrupted, all out of patience for more lectures. I was punishing
myself plenty already.

“Well, now what?”

Her question hung
between us, unanswered. Thankfully, Nelson’s incoming call gave me
a reason to end ours.

“That took more doing
than expected,” he confessed, almost sounding winded.

“You’ve stopped
them?” I rose off the bed, though I told myself to keep my hopes
down. I had signed a consent form.

“They’re tied up
nicely in legal tape. No more promos, for now. But they’re going to
put up a fight.”

Aggravated as all hell,
I thanked him, ended the call and wondered what to do with myself,
bristling with unreleased anger. Grabbing a couple of sheets, I
busted my way out of the cabin and into my workshop, yelling the
whole time at the cameramen to get the fuck away. They were waiting
for me outside, like roaches congregating on an untended meal.

Soon as I got into my
workshop, I hammered those sheets up over my windows. I hadn’t put
up curtains in there. I hadn’t ever needed them. Before Violet
stormed into my life, no one had bothered me. I’d been my own man.
Now, apparently, someone had been using a zoom lens to get footage of
me, and that footage was now worming its way through social media all
over the world.

Once I’d sealed it
off, I threw myself into a crazy workout for a couple of hours.
Punching, lifting, hauling, climbing, I did it all and then did it
all again until I was drenched in sweat, panting, my muscles spent
from the exertion. But my brain didn’t slow down. My mind kept
churning, circling round and round to the central problem: Violet.

For a man known for his
stoic reserve, who prided himself on maintaining a solitary life by
choice, I’d really picked a winner. I hadn’t just fallen for a
bad egg. I’d fallen for the one woman who could completely ruin my
entire life. Everything I’d spent the past few years building,
she’d knocked down like a tantrumming toddler smashing blocks. But
as angry as I felt at her, I was most furious at myself.

How had I let myself
get screwed over so bad? I was usually a pretty good judge of
character. Maybe a little overly suspicious when it came down to it.
But I’d deliberately blocked my ears to all those warning bells,
all those alarms and sirens blaring in my head warning, “Don’t
trust her!” I’d known it the second I saw her walking into that
bar.

And then I’d gone and
done exactly that. She was like kryptonite, only that would imply
that I was Superman and I wasn’t feeling too heroic at the moment.
I felt big and angry enough I could go toe-to-toe with him, but he’d
kick my ass. I was mere mortal and boy did I feel it at the moment.

Why hadn’t I played
it safe? There were any number of local girls trying to climb up my
tree. Cute little organic farm hotties, ski bunnies. There was a
crazy painter woman living up in Burlington. She’d just about
unzipped my pants and had her way with me the last time I’d seen
her. Maybe if I’d done more of that, I wouldn’t have acted like
such an idiot with Violet.

Because the way that
woman felt in my arms, the sounds she made, the way she got so wet so
fast and craved me, it drove me wild. I crushed my workout towel in
my fist. Damn it.

In my defense, Violet
had played her part well. Over those few weeks she’d opened up like
a flower, flushed and blooming. It was impossible not to be drawn to
her. She’d lit up, enjoying herself so much. The way she’d
clutched my arm at that hockey game or gotten so into sledding. It
hadn’t just been the sex.

But the sex. Goddamn
it. I threw my towel aside and chugged from a gallon jug of water.
Wiping my lips with the back of my hand, I closed my eyes from the
memories, but they kept on coming. The way she’d come right in this
workshop, right over on the lathing table. How good she’d felt, so
tight and eager and ready for me all the time.

Well, that was all
over. I opened my eyes. She’d have no reason to come back to
Vermont now. Nelson would work his magic. There’d be no exposé, I
felt pretty sure of it. Hell hath no fury like the Kavanaugh family
attorney. Much as I hated relying on my family network and
connections, sometimes I had to do it. Especially when my family was
the source of the problem. It was a tight web. I’d worked hard to
untangle myself. But not hard enough.

Gritting my teeth, I
made my way back to my cabin through the dark night. There were fewer
guys staking me out, but still a couple to curse at. They wouldn’t
last the night in the Vermont cold, though. I took comfort in that.
And soon they’d be gone for good.

Until then, Harriet had
told me what I needed to do. I agreed with her. After showering off,
I grabbed my phone.

Violet had called
again. I deleted her message with more force than necessary. We had
nothing to say to each other. It might take a while to get her out of
my head. She’d gotten in there good. But talking to her would only
prolong that, give me more grist for the mill. What was I going to
do, listen to her half-assed apologies, her attempts to convince me
to go along with the exposé anyway? Better to sever ties and make a
clean, fresh start.

Thankfully, I also had a text
message waiting for me from Ash:

How U doin big guy?

It wasn’t as if he were little,
but I did have a few inches on him. And some brawn. I cut right to
the chase:

You got a couch I can crash on?

He texted right back:

Thought you’d never ask. Get your
bearded ass down here.

All right then.

My bearded ass. I
barely even had a beard anymore. But I was too preoccupied to text
him back some smartass reply. When he’d last seen me at our
family’s annual holiday party mid-December, I’d had a giant one.
But gram had wanted me to get rid of it so I’d trimmed it right
down.

That needed to change.
If I’d had a giant wild and wooly beard I might have scared off
Violet. Yeah, I’d be growing back my beard. And it would be big.
Have beard hear me roar.

And it looked like I’d
be spending some time with my big brother. He and his fiancé had a
place in SoHo. Shaking my head, I guessed I’d leave tomorrow, or
maybe the day after. I didn’t want to go. It felt like heading
straight into the belly of the beast, avoiding paparazzi by heading
into New York City to stay with a rockstar.

But, honestly, if
anyone could give me advice about all this exposé shit it would be
Ash. He’d dealt with it for years now. And you didn’t get to
choose your family. You could choose your friends. Until the girl
you’d been falling for ripped your life away from you and then you
didn’t even have them anymore.

But, see, that kind of
thinking only led to self-pity and that might be the quality I hated
most in people. That and self-conceit. I refused to harbor either.

I’d made my mistakes.
I’d own them. And I’d move on from there, apparently beginning
with a stay at my brother’s place. Relying on family. It was a
strange concept. But maybe it was time to try it out.

Violet

Friday morning I woke
up an assistant producer at one of the top-earning TV networks in the
country with a doting, hotter-than-hell boyfriend. Saturday morning I
couldn’t even say that I woke up. To wake up you had to have gone
to sleep and Friday night that didn’t happen. So I’ll just say
that Saturday dawned with me jobless and loveless.

It was almost dramatic
enough for reality TV! But it wasn’t a show, it was really
happening, my life.

I hadn’t intended to
quit my job. I swear, I’d had every intention of walking out of
that conference room and pasting a smile on my face, putting my
shoulder to the wheel, all the other things I’d done in life to
just keep on keeping on. A girl like me didn’t exactly have a lot
of cushion to fall back on. I lived paycheck to paycheck. With no job
there would be no rent.

But I hadn’t walked
out of the conference room. I’d sat there until Sam had returned
and asked what the hell was I doing. To which I’d responded what
the hell was he doing, and things went downhill from there. Before I
knew it, my boss and I were having one of those “maybe you need to
think about whether this is the right place for you, Vi,”
conversations.

With everyone so hyped
up about making some muck-slinging exposé focused on a man who
didn’t deserve it and didn’t want it—a man I’d unwittingly
tricked into signing a consent form—I did know whether or not the
Fame! Network was the right place for me. The answer was NOT.

I wished I’d quit
like in the movies, with a rousing speech about the evils of greed
and deception. Instead, I’d cried a little, packed a cardboard box
with my belongings and nodded at the hushed, whispered “good lucks”
from those around me. I’d been cast out. No one wanted to catch
what I had, so they mostly gave me a wide berth as I headed out into
the blinding L.A. sun.

Sunshine. I’d always
liked it. Just then, though, it felt like a slap in the face. As if
L.A. didn’t care at all about what had happened to me. A place like
Vermont, though? It would have the decency to storm, maybe rain or
even pelt down hail to reflect my mood. L.A. just kept on smiling at
me in my pain.

Heath wouldn’t answer
my calls. He didn’t respond to any of my texts. God knew what he
thought of me. I’d handed him the papers giving the network consent
to film.

And who was he,
actually? That question kept coming up as well.

There was only one
thing to do and it couldn’t be done with us on either side of the
country. I bought the first plane ticket I could, rented myself a
hearty SUV for the ride from the airport and arrived at his cabin in
Watson late Sunday night.