Her Wicked Heart (19 page)

I pull my laptop over to the bed and open up my email. But when I click on Calder’s message, I don’t find one of his normal life updates. Instead, I find three short sentences.

I need to talk to you. Right now. Call me immediately.

My heart jumps back into my throat. Something’s wrong. Something’s horribly wrong. Why didn’t he call me? I know we don’t exactly chat over the phone, but he has my number. I reach for my pocket, but then I remember—I left my phone up here today. In my extreme exhaustion, I must have forgotten to take it off the charger this morning.

When I grab my phone, I find that I have seven missed calls. One from Ian, and six from Calder. I feel like someone’s dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.

It doesn’t matter that Calder and I haven’t spoken in weeks—or that we were estranged for more than a year before that. It doesn’t matter that the last time I saw him, I snuck out in the middle of the night and probably earned myself a scathing mark in his fiancée’s opinion forever. I dial my brother immediately.

He picks up after one ring.

“Lou,” he says. “Where the hell are you?”

It’s a little strange, hearing his voice. And I know that tone all too well, despite the fact that I haven’t heard it since right after our father died. It’s his
I know better than you
voice.

But there’s no time to play the defensive little sister.

“What’s going on?” My own voice sounds a little shaky. “What’s wrong?”

“Where are you? Answer me honestly, Louisa.”

He sounds completely ticked, and my throat tightens. He knows I’m here.
How does he know I’m here?

It hits me like a friggin’ shovel to the head:
Ian.

Calder doesn’t wait for me to answer him.

“One of your friends from Cunningham Cares contacted me this morning,” he says. “He told me he saw you earlier this week and that you were out at the estate.”

The cold fear that gripped me is replaced by anger.
Dammit, Ian! Why couldn’t you have left it alone? Left me to my mess and gotten on with your life?

“Look,” I say, “I know it sounds crazy—”

“Damned right it’s crazy! What the hell’s going on?”

“Well if you’d stop yelling at me and calm down for one freaking minute, I’ll tell you.”

On the other end of the line, I hear the long, slow exhale of his breath. Calder never really had much patience or understanding for some of my wilder exploits, but he’s still my brother. I need to remember that he’s worried about me.

It takes me a moment to gather my own thoughts. I’m not going to let him boss me around, even if he’s my big brother. On the other hand, I don’t want to fight with him. Not when we’re talking to each other for the first time in weeks.

“It’s complicated,” I say softly.

That’s how I always begin, isn’t it?
It’s always complicated with me.

“I needed to come back here again,” I rush on. “After I saw what they were doing to this place, I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing.”

“And what exactly do you think you’re going to do?” His voice is steady but strained, and I know it’s taking a lot of effort to hold in his temper. “I sold it. It’s gone. It doesn’t belong to us anymore. Edward Carolson can do whatever he damn well wants with the place.”

“I’m not… I know there’s nothing I can do. Nothing that will stop things from going forward.” I take a deep breath. “But… I needed to do this, Calder.”

It’s the same line I gave to Ian, and it gets the same response.

“Why?”

Why do you need to do this?
Over and over and over again. I don’t have the answer.

“I don’t even understand
how
this happened,” Calder continues. “He said you were there under a false identity. How? What did you do?”

“It’s… complicated.”

Calder’s not an idiot. He knows about some of my old “friends” with connections. He had a few of his own, back when he was a little wilder.

“You need to get out of there,” he says.

I don’t want to fight. But I refuse to run, even if the rest of the world is telling me I should. I want to tell him about everything I’ve seen here. About the stupid cherubs they’ve painted on every wall. About the wine. About those ridiculous portraits of Carolson they have hanging in the dining room. About the reporters crawling over everything, taking photographs of every last inch of the estate.

But I know that won’t change his mind. He has everything together now. And I just have madness.

“Just… trust me,” I say. “Please.”
Please, try to understand.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. I can practically hear him debating options in his head.

“I can come pick you up in the morning,” he says. “You can come stay with me and Lily for a while.”

“I don’t need to stay with you guys.”

“You need to get out of there.”

He can repeat that all he wants, but it doesn’t change anything.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I need to go.”

“Louisa—”

“I’ll think about it,” I lie. But Calder sees right through my words.

“Louisa, you—”

“Bye,” I say, hanging up before he can finish. I drop the phone on the bed and flop back on the pillows.

Predictably, Calder calls back immediately. But I don’t answer. I cross my arms over my face and pray for the ringing to stop. I feel like I’m about to fall apart.

This is the right thing, isn’t it? Forcing myself to face this? Forcing myself to be around this house and these people until I’m willing to accept that my old life is gone? That my father is gone?

I’m shaking again, but I try to fight it down. I grasp for the hollowness, searching for it deep in my gut, and when I find it, I allow it to wash over me. To help drive out all the doubts and pain.

I move like a zombie, getting ready to go meet Ward. Knowing that I get to see him tonight is the only thing keeping me from going completely over the edge. I let the numbness settle into my limbs and belly as I brush my teeth and hair and change into a simple tank top and pair of jeans. I don’t put on any makeup. I want him to see me as I truly am.

I haven’t forgotten my promise that I’d tell him the truth about my identity tonight. I know
that thought should terrify me after everything that’s happened today, but if anyone can understand my confusion, somehow I feel like it might be Ward.

I give myself a long look in the mirror before I leave. Addison Thomas dies tonight, at least in one person’s eyes. As for the rest of her… well, I don’t have to decide right now.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ward
’s already up at the rooftop pool when I arrive. He’s abandoned his sling for the night, and he’s lounging in one of the chairs, his arms behind his head as he stares up at the stars. For a moment, I just stand at the door and stare at him. He looks so peaceful. His face is relaxed, his body spread out. I don’t mind the view one bit.

There are so many things I need to tell him. The truth about my identity. The fact that some reporter thinks he’s hiding some big secret. But those things can wait. I don’t want to think about them right now.

He glances over as I approach, and his face spreads into a smile. Butterflies explode in my stomach. God, I don’t want to lose him. Whatever this crazy thing is between us, I need it right now.

I don’t wait until I’m next to him. I strip off my clothes piece by piece, leaving a trail of garments behind me as I approach the pool. It’s balmy tonight, and the air is so warm and humid that I won’t be surprised if we get rain later.

“You’re eager tonight, aren’t you?” he says when I’m next to him.

“Not eager,” I tease, shimmying my panties down my legs. “Just thought I’d go for a swim.”

I don’t wait for his response. I turn toward the pool, letting my toes dangle over the edge for just the briefest of moments before I close my eyes and jump.

The water rushes around me, enveloping me, holding me close. It’s warmer than I expected, and I almost don’t want to come up to the surface again.

There’s a splash beside me, and Ward’s hand finds mine under the water. I open my eyes, and in the soft fluorescent glow of the pool lights, I see him smile.

We surface together. It isn’t deep here, and I let my feet sink to the bottom. The floor of the pool is covered in tiles of every shade of blue under the sun, so when you look down, it looks like the water goes on forever.

“And to think I thought you might take some convincing,” Ward says, still grinning.

“To go skinny dipping? This is minor league stuff.”

He laughs. “You’d be surprised. A lot of women won’t even try it.”

“A lot of women? Exactly how many have you brought up here?”

“
That
is a dangerous question, no matter how I answer it.”

“Mm. Do I scare you that much?”

He’s still laughing, and he brings his wet hands up to cup either side of my face.

“You’re the first one I’ve brought up here,” he says. “I promise.”

His eyes are suddenly serious, and I’m almost surprised to find that I believe him.

I move closer to him in the water. A scattering of raindrops has started to fall around us, hitting our shoulders and creating a series of ripple patterns across the surface of the pool, but I don’t care. We’re already wet. Why should a little rain stop us?

I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. He responds with a moan against my lips, and his arms slide around my back, holding us together in the water. The energy between us is electric, a pulsing force that makes my toes tingle. I try to wrap my legs around him underwater, but he loses his balance and we both tumble back in the water.

We come up laughing.

“Warn me next time,” he says. He shakes his head, flinging his wet hair out of his eyes before reaching for me again.

But I’m already moving away from him, out toward the center of the pool. Once I’m past his reach, I push off the slick bottom of the pool and onto my back, letting myself float on the surface of the water. The sky is dark tonight. There are too many clouds to see the moon or any of the stars. But there’s still something very beautiful about the black expanse above us.

After a moment, I sense Ward floating beside me. Our arms brush against each other, and he stretches out his fingers, brushing the back of mine with the back of his. I close my eyes. For a moment, I just allow myself to
feel
. Feel the
drop drop drop
of the rain on my chest and belly and face. Feel the water of the pool supporting me below, like a thousand loving moving hands. Feel the soft heat of Ward beside me whenever the water pushes us together.

I don’t have to have all of the answers right now. I can just close my eyes and breathe and embrace the soft beauty of the world all around me.

I turn my hand, pulling Ward’s fingers into mine.

I want this for him, too. I want him to forget his anger and just
be
, if only for a while. He’s so quick to laugh, to smile, when he allows himself to escape from the pain that haunts him. We suit each other, he and I. Ward’s better for me than he ever could know. Better than Ian ever could be.

Ian.
I still can’t believe that Ian called my brother. But I guess it makes sense. It was a way of getting back at me and helping me all in one go. Why aren’t I allowed to make my own decisions? Even if they’re mistakes—I’d rather have the freedom to make them and learn to deal with the consequences than let someone else call the shots in my life. Not Ian and not my brother. Both of them need to understand that I’m not like them. That sometimes I need to do dumb things to help figure out what the right things are.

The rain is coming down harder now, but I don’t mind. I suspect I’m crying, and I don’t want Ward to know.

His hand tightens on mine, as if somehow he can sense that I need the extra support.

I let my feet drop to the bottom of the pool. Ward stands up beside me, pulling me into his arms without a word.

He doesn’t kiss me, only holds me close to his chest. I don’t know how he knew I was upset. Even in the dark, on our backs, in the rain he was able to read me. But I don’t care right now. He holds me snugly against him, his thumb gently stroking my lower back. I didn’t realize how much I was shaking until I was pressed against the steady solidness of his body.

I turn my face into his chest, letting my lips brush against his skin. I kiss him softly on his collarbone, then tilt my head to leave another kiss on his throat.

“Come on,” he says after a moment. “Let’s get out of here.”

He leads me to the edge of the pool and helps me climb out. There are towels stocked in a small cabinet behind the bar, and we steal a couple to dry off. Ward uses his
towel to help wring out my hair. When he’s done, he tucks the strands behind my ears.

“What color is it naturally?” he asks.

I reach up and touch the ends of my hair. It tends to curl when it gets wet.

“Brown,” I tell him. “Dark brown.”

“I thought so.”

I manage a wry smile. “I know I need to touch up my roots.”

But he shakes his head. “I can tell because of your eyes.”

I look down at my feet. “Plenty of blondes have brown eyes.”

“Not that dark.” He puts a finger beneath my chin and lifts my face. It’s probably just an effect of the fluorescent patio lights, but his blue eyes look brighter than usual.

“Why do you dye it?” he asks. He smiles before adding, “Not that I don’t love blondes.”

“Maybe I wanted something different,” I say. “Or maybe I like the blond better. A girl’s allowed to be adventurous with her hair.”

“Of course she is.” His smile softens a little. “I was just curious.”

This is it
, I realize. This is the moment to tell him the truth about who I am. Even if it changes the way he’s looking at me right now. Even if it alters things between us forever. I want to give up the lie. I want him to know the truth. But his eyes have gone a little sad, and before I can speak, he reaches out to touch my hair again.

“My mom used to dye her hair blond,” he says. “Back when I was a kid. I assumed that was her natural color until I was ten and she lost her job. She couldn’t afford the upkeep.” He gives a single shake of his head. “For months while it was growing out, she refused to leave the apartment without a hat. At least until it was long enough that she was able to chop the rest of it off. I remember helping her do the back. She cried.”

My heart is aching. “Was her hair the same color as yours?”

He nods. “Very close. Mine’s darker, and hers had a lot more red in it. There’s a lot of Irish blood on that side of the family.” He reaches up and runs his fingers absently through his hair. Wet like this, it just looks dark. I can’t see any of the auburn shades, any of the coppery sheen.

“When… when she was going through chemo,” he says, speaking softly now, “she laughed about it. She said she couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been. Back when she was a blonde, she thought her hair was the main thing that made her beautiful. Men used to talk about it all the time. When she cut it off, she said it felt like she was letting herself go and giving up on ever finding love.”

I reach out and touch his chest, and he closes his hand around mine.

“It was only when she lost all of her hair that she said she realized how ridiculous that was. If someone chooses to love you or not based on something as stupid as hair, then that’s not really love, is it?”

“And she had you,” I say. “It’s obvious you loved her whether she had hair or not.”

He nods once, somberly. “In the end, she said that was more than she ever needed. But she deserved so much more than that.” He looks out across the pool. “My—the man who fathered me, he broke her heart. She dated on and off throughout my life, but I think she lost a part of herself to him.”

“How did… I mean, did you ever meet him?”

“Not for a long time.” Ward’s eyes have darkened, and the corners of his mouth are hard. “That bastard left her when she was pregnant. Refused to acknowledge that he was responsible. That’s when my mom found out that he was married. And had been, the entire time he’d been seeing her.”

“That’s awful.” It makes perfect sense now, his very heated opinion of cheaters. I thought that maybe some woman had broken
his
heart, but it’s clear from the emotion in his eyes right now that his hatred is on behalf of his mother.

“It’s one thing to sleep with someone else,” he says. “But to abandon a woman after you’ve gotten her pregnant makes you the lowest of the low.” He shakes his head. “I’m not even sure why I’m telling you all of this.”

Now he’s the one shaking, and I can feel the muscles of his chest contracting under my hand. This is the anger he doesn’t know what to do with. This is his deepest pain.

I reach up and pull his face down to mine. For a moment, his mouth is hard and unyielding, but then suddenly something seems to awaken inside of him. His lips go to war with mine, and his tongue forces its way into my mouth. I welcome the attack. I cling harder to him, and our towels fall to the ground. Once again we’re naked and pressed against each other.

An ache is already building between my legs. I spread my thighs slightly, and I’m rewarded with a groan from Ward. He splays his hands against my back. Every muscle in his body is tense, and I want to help him find release. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth, teasing him before pulling myself out of his grip.

I don’t go far. I twist around so that I’m facing the back of the bar, and I lean forward, propping my elbows on the marble countertop and offering myself to him. Then I glance back over my shoulder. Ward’s back is still rigid with tension, but he’s looking down at me with a desire that makes my very core clench. His eyes flick up to mine, and a bolt of arousal shoots through me.

He’s behind me now, his hand sliding down between my legs. His finger slips easily inside of me, but I still gasp at the intrusion. Slowly, he caresses me. His other hand grips my hip. And then he leans forward, and the hand slides from my hip up across my belly, and finally to my breast. He gently twists my nipple as the fingers of his other hand continue their slow strokes in and out of me.

This new position also presses his hard length right against my bare skin. I moan, and he dips his head to plant a kiss on my back, right at the base of my neck.

“I need you,” I whisper.

He stills above me.

“Not like this,” he says. Suddenly, he’s pulling away.

“Not like what?” The bottom drops out of my stomach. I’m naked, ready to give myself to him, and he doesn’t want me?

But he’s reaching out, drawing me into a standing position again. His hands land on my waist and he slowly turns me around. When we’re face-to-face once more, the tension of a moment ago is gone from his eyes. Instead he’s looking at me with something like tenderness.

“I want to be able to look at you,” he says softly, touching my cheek. “I want to see your face.” He brushes his thumb across my lips. “Is that all right?”

I nod.

He le
ads me over to one of the long padded chaise lounges. The rain has picked up, dancing against the patio roof overhead, and though I don’t feel a chill, I find myself shivering again. Slowly, Ward and I lower ourselves down onto the cushions, me on my back and him leaning over me.

He doesn’t kiss me. Instead, his eyes move slowly across my face, and his hand drifts along the column of my neck.

“I didn’t know what to make of you, the first time I saw you,” he says.

I smile lazily. “You mean when I attacked you and tried to get in your pants?”