Wilde at Heart (24 page)

Numb, she retrieved her cell phone from her bedroom. Only when she tried
to punch in the numbers did she realize she was shaking. She could barely keep hold of the phone, not to mention see to dial with the sudden wash of tears filling her vision. She dropped the phone, curled into herself, and finally, she sobbed.

Chapter Twenty-Two

T
he door was open.

Reece froze in the process of digging for his apartment key and stared. It was only about two inches ajar, but still. It was
open
, and it shouldn’t be. With all of his recent problems, that was enough of a red flag to have a chill scraping across the back of his neck. He reached out, pushed on the door. The living room looked as if a tornado had hit it.

“Shelby!” His heart lodged in his throat, and he was moving through the apartment in floor-eating strides before his brain protested that the intruder could still be inside. His heart told his brain to fuck off, because he could handle anything an intruder dished out, and he had to find Shelby. Had to make sure she was safe. Had to—

A muffled sound from her room caught his attention, and he made a beeline for it. And there she was, curled up in a tiny ball on her bed, sobbing. Sam the Cat sat by her head as if protecting her, his tail swishing in aggravation. In the cage across the room, Poe squawked and waddled restlessly from one side of his perch to the other, obviously aware of Shelby’s distress.

But she didn’t look injured, and the knot in Reece’s belly loosened. He sat down beside her, placed a soothing hand on her back. “Shelby. Sweetheart, what happened?”

She peeked up at him, her eyes red and puffy from crying. “Reece?” she breathed.

“Yes, I’m here now.”

Without another word, she crawled into his lap and curled up again as if wanting to withdraw from the world.

She’s…fragile. So much more than she lets people know…

Cam’s words haunted him as he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here.”

“She took your notebooks.”

Her voice was so muffled against his chest, he wasn’t sure he heard her right. “My notebooks?”

“For your video game.” She sniffled. “And your computer. The book of blank checks in your desk. My ring…” She held out a shaking hand to show her empty finger. “Why’d she take my ring? It wasn’t worth anything to her.”

“Who?” Reece asked, although the sickening feeling in his gut told him he already knew the answer.

“Mom,” she whispered and broke down in big, shuddering sobs again. “S-she said I owed her. She p-pulled a gun on me.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He closed his eyes against the explosion of pure rage in his chest and held her tighter. What else could he do? Besides sic the cops on Katrina Bremer, which he fully intended to do.

Shelby wiped away her tears with the backs of her hands. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let her in.”

“This is
not
your fault.”

“You need to call your bank and—and make sure she doesn’t take all of your money. That’s all she wanted. She found out we’re married and wanted your money.”

“It’s insured. Whatever she gets, the money’s insured.”

She drew away enough to meet his gaze. “No. Call them right now. Freeze the account or whatever. I don’t want her to get a dime. This is my home. However temporary this situation is, right now it is my home, and I’m not letting her get away with coming here and scaring the hell out of me. She took my ring and your notebooks and the paintings I bought yesterday just because she knew it’d hurt me. She didn’t get her way, so she wanted me to hurt.”

“There you go.” He pushed her mussed hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. “Get mad.”

“I
am
mad. She had no right to terrorize me in my home. I don’t owe her shit.” Sitting up, she pushed her shoulders back and inhaled through her nose. She blew out the breath slowly, then wiped her eyes and, when she looked at him again, she was calm, grimly focused. “Call the police,” she said. “Call the bank. And then we will push her out of our thoughts and go to the gala and charm the pants off Irving James.”

Jesus, she was amazing.

He cupped her cheek, dragged his thumb over lips that still trembled slightly. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She lifted her chin, strength in every angle of her face. “I don’t want to waste a second more of my time on that woman.”

With the fire of determination in her eyes and the stubborn set to her jaw, she’d never looked more beautiful to him. He had to kiss her and leaned down, brushing his lips across her eyes, nose, taking his time with each light brush of his lips. Finally he moved his mouth over hers, drinking her in, wanting a taste of the flame that made up the core of her being, the wild heat that had first drawn him to her.

Shelby broke the kiss first and pressed a hand into his chest. “Go call the police. I need to shower or we’ll be late for the gala.” She squeezed his hand, then stood and disappeared into her bathroom.

Reece didn’t move for several minutes. Should he call off this whole gala thing and join her in the shower? She obviously needed comfort, even if it was just someone to hold her. Because even as determined as she was to keep it together, he saw the cracks in her bravado. She was hurting. And he wanted to make it better.

The water came on and he finally stood. He couldn’t be angry at her for shutting him out right now. She was using the gala as a distraction—he understood that—but later, he was going to hold her. If she needed to break down, she could do so without worry, because he’d be right there to help her glue the pieces back in place when it was over. They were stronger together than alone, and he planned to prove it to her.

He walked out to the living room, and the sight of it pissed him off. He wanted to start cleaning, but knew better and instead called the cops. They said they’d send a unit right over. Next, he called Cam. It took a couple tries before his brother finally answered.

“What?” Cam answered breathlessly.

Reece winced. He did not want to know what Cam was up to right now. “Bad timing?”

“Fuck you. I’m working out and—oomph!” His voice faded away from the phone. “Eva, that didn’t count. I called a time out.” Then back into the phone, grumbling, “You’re making me lose. What do you want?”

“Actually, I’m glad you’re both right there. You might want to put me on speaker for this.”

There was some shuffling, a muffled conversation, then Cam said, “Go ahead.”

“What’s up?” Eva asked.

This was not going to be a fun exchange. Reece exhaled hard to release the tension balled in his gut and launched into an explanation of the day’s events. He ended with, “I wanted to warn you so you didn’t hear it from the police scanner.”

Eva’s voice sounded small, miles away. “I keep telling her Mom won’t change.”

“I know. I know you do.” Cam cursed. “Hey, baby, it’s okay. He said Shelby is unharmed.”

“She’s shaken up,” Reece said, “but also mad. Katrina took some paintings she’d bought for the apartment and her wedding ring.”

“What?” Now Eva sounded more like herself. “Oh, fuck her. Just…fuck her! I’m going to kill her. I’m—”

“Don’t say that,” Cam soothed. “I know you’re angry, but—”

“I’m pissed! That bitch deliberately took the things she knew would hurt Shelby the most. Reece, you better press charges, because Shelby won’t. She never does.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about it this time. As I said, she’s as angry as you are. But,” he added when she made a sound of protest, “if she won’t do it, I will.”

A knock drew his attention to the still partly open door, and he spotted two uniformed officers. “I have to go. The cops are here.”

He spent the next half hour answering the police’s questions as best he could, and then it was Shelby’s turn. He was half afraid she’d lost her nerve, but she was steadfast in that she wanted to press charges. The cops left with a list of the items taken and a picture of Katrina Bremer.

Shelby stood in the middle of the living room after they left, staring at the mess. “I wish we had time to clean this up, but we have to finish getting ready. We’re already going to be late.”

With that, she retreated back to her bedroom.

Reece watched her go and considered following, but shook his head to dislodge the idea. She wasn’t going to let him blow off the gala, even as much as he now wanted to. Stubborn woman.

He made sure the door was locked, then went to his own bathroom. It didn’t take him long to shower and change into his tux, though he left the bowtie undone around his neck. As he strode down the hall toward the living room, Shelby called out to him. He backtracked, peeked in her room. She wasn’t there, but the bathroom door was open so he walked over—and stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway. Her gown was black with a back that dipped almost indecently low, held together by dainty chains. And for a heartbeat he was struck dumb. She looked amazing. Sleek and sexy without being over the top.

Before he realized he was moving, he stepped forward and trailed a knuckle down her spine. “Shelby…”

T
he note of heat in his voice made her legs go to gelatin, and she sup
pressed a shiver of pure desire.

Get a grip, girl.

She needed to focus. So many of his recent problems were her fault—the blackmail, the fire at his parents’ house, and now she’d allowed her mother to rob him—but she was going to make up for it by going to the gala and playing the part of a perfect wife tonight. And she refused to put Wilde Security in further jeopardy all because the sound of his voice sent her hormones into hyper drive.

Forcing a smile she didn’t feel, she held out her tube of makeup. “Can you help me cover up the tattoos on my back? This dress dips too low, and I can’t reach to do it.”

He didn’t move. “We should cancel tonight.”

She lifted her gaze, met his in the mirror over the sink. “You know that’s not a good idea, especially since we slipped away from dinner early the other night.”

He hesitated, then took the tube from her like it would blow up in his hand. She laughed softly and handed him the application sponge. “All you have to do is squeeze some on the sponge, then rub it on. Just make sure it’s an even layer so it covers everything.”

Scooping up her hair, she turned her back to him and waited. But he still didn’t move, just stood there frowning, the makeup in one hand and the sponge in the other.

She let her hair drop again and faced him. “What’s wrong?”

“What if you don’t cover them?”

She pressed a hand to his forehead. “Are you running a fever?”

“What?” Scowling, he waved her hand away. “No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? Because you’re obviously delirious. I can’t show up to an opera fundraiser covered in ink.” When his scowl only deepened, she sighed and clasped his cheeks in her hands. “Hey, we’ve come this far, right? Might as well see it through to the end.”

“What if I don’t want it to end?”

Her heart bungeed all the way down to her toes and back up into her throat. She dropped her hands and tried to back up a step, but the sink was blocking her escape. “Don’t be silly. Of course it has to end. East and west, remember?”

“You’re forgetting the rest of the poem,” Reece said softly and set aside the makeup. His hands wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her closer. “
Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet, till Earth and Sky stand presently at God’s great Judgment Seat; But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth, when two strong men stand face to face, tho’ they come from the ends of the earth.
”

She couldn’t look at him, not when he stared at her like that, with such earnest intensity. “I’m not a man.”

“But you’re strong. One of the strongest people I’ve ever met. We’re opposites, there’s no denying it. East and west, night and day. But we’re also equals, and I’m starting to think we might be two different halves of the same whole.” He caught her chin, lifted it until she could no longer avoid his gaze. He stared into her eyes like he was trying to see into her soul. “I don’t want this to end.”

Oh, God. He was serious.

She shrugged away from him and turned back toward the mirror. “We need to hurry or we’re going to be late.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

T
he ballroom was huge, sparkling with chandeliers, expensive gowns, and more jewelry than Shelby had ever seen in one place. It kind of blew her mind that they were mingling with celebrities like Tucker Quentin, a former child star turned businessman, who was one of the richest men in the country.
And
he seemed to know Reece as more than a casual acquaintance.

“Those brothers of yours still up to no good?” Tuc asked, flashing his camera-ready smile as he extended his hand.

“Always,” Reece said and accepted the shake. Then he nudged her forward with a possessive hand that practically left scorch marks on the small of her back. “Tuc, this is my wife, Shelby.”

“Wait, what?” Tuc did a double take. “You’re married to this beautiful woman? Whoa. When did that happen and why wasn’t I invited? I thought we were friends, man.”

Reece winced. “It was…last minute.”

“Uh-huh.” Tuc turned that devastating smile on her. “Swept him off his feet, did you?”

She actually felt her cheeks heat with a blush, and she so wasn’t the blushing type. But, holy crap, she’d had a poster of this guy on her bedroom wall growing up. And now here he was, in the flesh. Talking to her. She opened her mouth and hoped for something cool and sophisticated, but all that came out was a fangirl-y, “Mr. Quentin, I loved your movies.”

He snorted a laugh. “Well, that makes a grand total of two people who actually saw them. You and my housekeeper. There’s a reason I’m not in the movie business anymore—the least of which is that I’m a shitty actor. But thank you. And please, call me Tuc.”

“Okay,” she squeaked. Later she’d be embarrassed by the sound, but it was all she could manage. “Tuc
.”

Reece shook his head at her, his mouth turned up at the corners in amusement. “I’ve never heard her so quiet. I think she’s starstruck.” He kissed her temple before returning his attention to Tuc and switching right back into business mode. “If you have a minute tonight, I’d like to speak to you about a new idea in A.I. technology.”