The Gilded Cuff (15 page)

“Should we put them in here, Antonio?” One man asked the dark-haired leader.

“Yes. Throw them inside,” Antonio barked.

Emery and Fenn stumbled into the darkness and the door slammed shut behind them, a lock clicking into place. He immediately felt around until he bumped into Fenn, who sat on the floor.

“You hurt?” he whispered.

“My arm hurts a little.” Fenn lifted his arm in the dim light and Emery saw a streak of blood beneath the torn shirt.

Both boys were quiet for a long while. A single shaft of muted light slid through the crack by the door.

“I’m scared, Fenn,” Emery whispered, a shiver slithering the length of his spine.

“Me too.”

“Do you think Mom and Dad will look for us?” Emery wanted to believe their parents would search for them. He prayed they wouldn’t think he and Fenn had run away. If Nana was alive, she could tell them what had happened. If she was alive…

“They’ll look. I know they will,” Fenn said calmly, but Emery could feel his brother shaking next to him.

Emery forced his eyes open. The library ceiling was awash with an artist’s rendering of Mount Olympus and the Gods and Goddesses. It was such a contrast to the confined darkness he and Fenn had lived in during their captivity.

Funny. He’d rarely looked at this mural over the years. It was only now, lying here with Sophie, that he noticed the painted heavens.

“You must have been so scared.” Sophie shifted her head, bumping his chin. Her arms tightened around his chest.

Scared? He’d been petrified. Terrified out of his mind. Thanks to that damned closet he became unhinged at the thought of being in an enclosed space, couldn’t sleep in any room with closed doors where there weren’t light switches within easy reach of his bed.

“They kept us in the closet for the first two weeks.”

Sophie gasped and raised her head. “They never let you out in all that time?”

“They did. Separately. Just to go to the bathroom and to wash with cold water from a bucket. We only ever had a few minutes.”

Icy water, the thick cold sponge raking over his skin. The piercing sunlight so sharp and painful after hours in the darkness.

“The worst part was at night.” His skin crawled from the mere recollection.

“What happened then?” Sophie’s eyes were wide, full of sorrow and worry. The emotions swirled like blue clouds over the silver of her eyes.

“The bugs and rats came. Cockroaches got under our clothes, rats crawled over us while we tried to catch a minute or two of sleep.”

Tiny paws scampered over his bare arm, the squeak of a rat shocked him and the painful pinch of tiny teeth sank into his forearm.

A scream tore from his throat. Fenn grabbed his arm, hushing him.

“S’okay, Emery,” he murmured. “Did it bite you?”

“Uh-huh,” Emery replied in a half-whimper.

“It’ll be okay. I’ll watch for them. Go back to sleep.”

Even though it was too dark to see his brother, he found Fenn’s hand and clasped it in his own, the touch a simple and vital reassurance. They were together.

“I got bit. A lot. After…after I got home, they took me to the hospital. The doctors were worried about infections and I remember getting several shots.”

He shuddered at the memory of the way the hospital nurse had jabbed the needles repeatedly into his skin without warning. He’d cried. Cried for his mother, his father, for Fenn. He hadn’t been able to stop. And when he’d finally run out of tears and was only sucking in ragged breaths, he’d been forced to stay all night in the sterile hospital room. His mother had curled up around him on the hospital bed, holding him, while his father had slept next to him in a chair. Even though he’d been safe, he hadn’t slept a wink that first night. It was only when dawn arrived, washing the room out with its glow, that he’d drifted off to sleep and slept for nearly two days without waking.

“Don’t drift away from me.” Sophie cupped his face in her hands, her elbows resting on his upper chest. “Keep talking, but don’t let the memories drag you back.”

Her request sounded so easy, but it was impossible. He could no sooner stop the tides from pulling the sea out each night.

“We’ve opened a can of worms, Sophie. I’ve spent years trying to bury these memories. You wanted them; now you’ve got them.” He hadn’t meant to snap at her, but his reply came out clipped.

Her flinch made his chest ache with regret. Determined to apologize, he curled his hands around her wrists just beneath her cuffs, his thumbs stroking the delicate skin of her inner arms, where he could feel the rapid fire of her pulse.

“I’m sorry. It’s not easy to relive this. When I was a kid I convinced myself it was just a story, that all that happened wasn’t really to
me
. But telling you…it brings it right back inside me. I
can’t
stay distant.”

Her lashes dropped, spiking over her cheeks as she closed her eyes. She sighed. “I know how you feel.”

He laughed bitterly. “You don’t. People always think they understand. They don’t.”

Her lashes flared up, revealing aggressive gray eyes. “Actually, I do.”

“What?” He tightened his grip on her wrists.

“I guess you haven’t read the file that Cody gave you?”

Emery blinked. “No. Not yet. Why?”

“Well, you should. It’s a real pager turner.” Sophie tugged her wrists free and rolled off him. The second her feet hit the floor, she walked away from him.

The instinct to chase her down was strong, but his mistrust got in the way, kept him where he was. He sat up and rested his elbows on his knees as he watched her.

Sophie paced the length of the library, her gaze taking in the room.

“This place is so beautiful. Every room is like something out of a fairy tale.” She stopped before a shelf by one wall where a gilded picture frame sat. Inside was a picture of Emery, Fenn, and Brant. Brant stood in the middle, his arms locked around their necks in a fake chokehold. At eighteen, he’d been older and stronger, and he’d always pushed his younger cousins around.

Thankfully Brant had outgrown his headlock phase. Of course now he was all about creating deadlocks with the company board. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. Damn. Today was a string of disasters between the meeting with Brant, the fire at the stables, finding Fenn’s shoe. A moment of peace with this unique and haunted woman. That was all he wanted.

He focused on Sophie, tracking her every move. Her breasts bounced just the slightest bit as she set the frame down and walked back a few steps. Hunger for her, for the pleasure she could give them both, made his body taut.

“Sophie, come here,” he commanded.

She eyed him warily and then walked over. He parted his legs and motioned for her to step between them. She came, obliging him, even if she was reluctant.

“Straddle me,” he demanded.

Rebellion warred with desire on her face, but desire won out and she complied. She placed her hands on his shoulders for balance as she lowered herself. Her knees parted, her legs sliding around to hug his hips. The action brought her close to him, their pelvises bumping. He didn’t miss the flare in her eyes, the spark of heightened awareness. He cupped her bottom, squeezed as she rocked forward with a tiny gasp.

“Tell me what happened to you. What’s in your file that I should know about?” He leaned forward and when she tried to lean back, he put a hand on her shoulder blades, keeping her in place. She was at the perfect height for him to nuzzle her throat. He flicked his tongue out, relishing the faintly salty taste of her skin, even though he tasted soot as well. She needed to shower before dinner tonight. But right now he needed answers.

“Talk to me.” He kissed a path up her neck to her mouth. Her body gave a little shiver, as though she were on the verge of coming undone.

“Read the file.” Her tone was probably supposed to be impertinent but he chose that moment to smack her bottom and her words came out in a rush of fast breaths.

“We are sharing, remember? I tell you something, you tell me something.”

She wrinkled her nose and glared down at him. “I’m not ready to talk.”

When she tried to distract him by grabbing his face and planting a kiss on his lips, he nearly laughed. Her attempt to dominate him was cute. But he was the dominant one. Clearly she needed a reminder.

Emery snagged her wrists and wound them behind her back, pinning them there, and used his other hand to take hold of her neck and pull her face down to his. She squirmed, only making him more restless and hungry for her.

“Stop wriggling or I’ll take you on the floor. With the mood I’m in you’d be in for a hell of a ride, and trust me, you wouldn’t like getting carpet burns,” he warned with a low growl.

She tugged her wrists, but his hold didn’t let up. “I think you say things like that just to shock me.”

She didn’t believe him? Her mistake.

Holding onto her, he lifted her up as he stood and then he dropped to his knees on the thick carpet by the couch, efficiently pinning her to the ground beneath him. She was trapped chest to toes and couldn’t move, except for her head.

“Still think I’m bluffing?”

Sophie had the good sense to look hesitant before replying. “Okay, so obviously playing strip poker with you any time soon is out of the question, because I can’t read you at all.”

“Strip poker? That’s an excellent idea for later. I’m damn good at cards.” He couldn’t resist leering down at her, and she laughed.

“Oh good lord, you’ll be the death of me.” She blew out an exasperated breath and tried to dislodge his body from hers.

“Hmmm,” he chuckled, enjoying her half-hearted struggle. “I’ll be preoccupied during dinner tonight, thinking of all the ways to get you naked. Whether it be cards…or otherwise.”

“You’ll be thinking about sex with your parents right there?” The shock in her eyes and the delightful way she parted her lips made his erection harden to painful proportions. Seeing his chance for relief, he dropped his head and kissed her. Open-mouthed and hard, his tongue conquered hers. He swallowed her little sounds of pleasure. It was impossible to keep his hands off her. Dinner was a few hours away and he was already regretting calling his parents. Seeing them could have waited until tomorrow.

Have to have her, now
. He’d gripped the neck of her t-shirt, ready to rip it right down the middle to get to the feast of her breasts and stomach, when a voice disturbed them.

“See, Hans? Like I said, humping like bunnies. Better get a hose and spray ’em down,” Cody sniggered from the doorway of the library. Hans, rather than looking amused, was frowning in obvious disapproval.

“Get off me,” Sophie hissed, shame tinting her face as she shoved at his shoulders.

Emery kept her pinned beneath him a moment longer, pushing his hips down, reminding her that he had every intention of staking his claim on her later. He bent, stole a kiss rough enough to leave her blinking in dazed surprise. Then he got to his feet and helped her up, loving the way she wobbled and fell against his side.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up?” He swatted her behind and prodded her toward the door. When she left he made eye contact with Hans and flicked his head to indicate that the bodyguard should follow her. Hans returned the signal with a nod and trailed off after her.

Cody leaned a hip against the nearest chair, looking entirely too smug about interrupting Emery’s seduction.

“Cody, get me her file. It’s time to read up on my guest.”

“You got it, boss.”

A
nother shower. Sophie had taken one only a few hours ago, yet so much had happened since then. She looked a wreck. Soot blackened her nose, forehead, and neck, and her eyes were red from the smoke. She still wore her exercise clothes from tennis that morning. It marveled her that Emery had wanted to touch her, let alone kiss her. The man was unpredictable.

And hot. Burning hot and dangerous. She wanted him bad, so bad she had the shakes, like an addict during withdrawal, when he wasn’t nearby.

If Cody and Hans hadn’t come in…they might have done the horizontal tango on the library carpet.

Damn Cody. Then again, did she really want her first time with Emery to be on the floor, sweaty and covered in ashes?

No
.

Sophie showered quickly and did her best to style her hair. Naturally it didn’t want to cooperate. It had to be a universal truth: a woman’s hair never cooperated when she was about to meet the parents of the man she was seeing. Well, she wasn’t technically
seeing
Emery. How
was
she supposed to define their relationship?

She imagined the look of horror on his parents’ faces if she said, “Hi, I’m Sophie, I’m letting your son seduce me and in return he’s telling me about the worst moments of his life.”

Yeah, bad idea. Perhaps she should leave the explanations to Emery.

When she left the bathroom she was surprised to find a midnight blue dress lying on the bed, along with a pair of red flats with silver buckles on the toes. She picked the gown up and couldn’t help but admire it. The cut was A-line and the skirt flared out like a dress Grace Kelly might have worn, only there wasn’t a scratchy crinoline underneath. Instead it had a built–in, multilayered, silk underskirt. The bodice looked fitted and the waist would be trim. Sophie checked the tag and blushed when she realized it was her size. Who had purchased the clothes? And more importantly, how had they known her size? It was then she noticed the small note tucked inside one of the shoes.

She pulled it out and read it silently.

Master Emery
. It sounded so dark and sinful. It reminded her of that first moment she’d met him in the club. Domineering, sensual, powerful. She eyed the note thoughtfully. So he didn’t want her wearing anything underneath the dress?

A smile curved her lips and she fought off a giddy little laugh. She glanced around the empty bedroom, then hastily dropped her towel and donned the conservative black bra and panties she’d retrieved from her suitcase. So he thought to order her around. Well, he had another think coming. She wasn’t going commando under this dress. If he found out and punished her? Well, she did like the spanking and wouldn’t mind at all if they repeated that little activity.

She slipped into the dress and was relieved to find the material stretched a bit, which meant she could reach back and tug up the zipper herself. Once done, she peered at her reflection in the full-length mirror, surprised to find she looked good. Really good. Emery’s gilded cuffs gleamed against her skin. She touched them, admiring the way the light from the window caught the bracelets and they glinted with promise. He’d put a sign of his possession on her. For some insane reason, she was happy. Another unexpected smile snuck up on her.

She wanted to find Emery and thank him for the dress. No one had ever spoiled her before, or treated her like this. It made her feel girlish, hopeful. Like a woman her age should feel. But she hadn’t felt this young and happy…well, ever. Sometimes she worried she’d spent so much of her life trying to fix past mistakes that she’d never given herself a chance to have a life, to just be herself without any baggage weighing her down. Unable to resist giving in to one small temptation, she swirled around in a slow circle, watching her skirt poof out in a blue cloud around her knees.

With a delighted sigh, she left the bedroom and wandered down the hall. Rather than going back down to the kitchen or to Cody’s command center, she took a new route, picking a hallway at random. Some force inside her pulled her in this direction like an invisible string, drawing her closer to something important. The farther she walked the dustier the paintings and side tables were. Tiny cobwebs hung on the high wall sconces lining the hall. Why hadn’t the maids cleaned this part of the house? It looked abandoned.

She paused in front of one door, the only one along the long hallway that wasn’t closed. The force that whispered silkily in her mind entreated her to look within. She set a palm against it and pushed. The door creaked on its hinges as it opened, revealing the sight within.

Her heart shot up into her throat and her blood chilled.

Emery stood only a few feet away, between two twin beds. One lay bare, the other was strewn with toys and knickknacks like small marbles and baseball cards. Sophie held her breath as Emery knelt on one knee and set the single tennis shoe at the foot of the bed that was covered with toys.

It’s a shrine
. For the brother who’d died.

Without looking at her, he spoke. “A part of me always expected him to come back. I kept our room the same, but…” He bent his head and rested his forehead in his palms. “He’s never coming back. I’m a damn fool for hoping otherwise. He’s dead.”

Sophie was too upset to breathe or to make a sound. He was hurting, a kind of hurt she was intimately familiar with and it was breaking her heart to see him like this.

Finally he got to his feet and faced her. Dark circles hallowed his eyes, making his features look gaunt and haunted.

“Don’t you want to know how I know he’s dead?” The edge in his voice was razor thin.

“How?” she croaked out on a harsh breath.

“Because I left him to die. Fenn distracted our captors while I escaped. I was outside the house when the shot rang out. I was the
coward
who ran and left him behind with those monsters.” The raw agony in Emery’s eyes ravaged her soul, but he kept talking, even when she didn’t want to hear anymore. His hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists.

“You know what they say about twins. There’s a connection. When the gun fired, I felt it. Like it exploded out of the back of my own skull. The pain was so bad that I tripped and busted my chin on a rock.” He ran a finger over a small scar on his chin; it matched the placement of a wound she’d seen in a photograph of him when they’d found him.

Sophie started forward but Emery turned away. “It went dark. The little voice in my head, the pulsing light that was my brother. It went dark.”

At his words, her own soul seemed to sink below the surface of a deep, cold sea. It would be so easy to surrender to her own pain, to allow his to join hers and drown them both in a tide of misery.

He raked his hands through his hair before he put his palms on the window sill. He hung his head.

“Sometimes I get these flashes, these instant glimpses of someone else, a life so different from mine. It feels like him, but it can’t be. He’s gone. Otherwise he would have come home. I feel like I’m going insane. The world is pulling me apart from the inside out.”

She knew exactly what he meant. There were moments when she felt like an old tapestry with its edges frayed and torn. All it would take to unravel her was a tug on the right thread.

She inhaled slowly and went toward him. When she touched his shoulder he flinched but didn’t pull away. “Is that why you locked yourself away?”

“It’s a fitting punishment. I ran, left him behind to die. Now I wait for a boy that won’t ever come home, a brother who will never grow up.”

Sophie wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against the back of his shoulder. He was trembling, but he wasn’t alone anymore and neither was she.

“You asked me what happened, what made me understand you. My best friend Rachel was kidnapped. We were only seven. A man stole her from the playground. I was the only one who saw him. They never caught him. They never found her body. And I couldn’t give them any information—no license plate, no details, to catch him. I
failed
her, my best friend.”

Emery went utterly still. He turned around in the loose cage of her arms, wrapping his body around hers, crushing her to him as though she were precious.

“What could you have done? You were practically a baby,” he murmured in her ear. His lips teased her sensitive skin and his warm breath was soothing as he nuzzled her hair.

“So were you.” She stroked his chest, feeling the rich fabric of his dress shirt slide beneath her hands. “Even though it’s the truth, it doesn’t ease our guilt.”

He tilted her chin back to peer down at her in all seriousness. “Is that why you came here? You hoped I had some secret answers, some way of coping?” He laughed softly, full of sorrow. “Sophie, I locked myself away in this place. I have no more answers than you.”

He was right. She hadn’t been willing to accept that tragic truth until now. Suddenly an idea struck her.

“Why did you never tell anyone what happened? Why not take the police to the mansion where they held you?”

“The man in charge, Antonio, said he’d kill my mother and father if we ever breathed a word of what happened. Of course, he told us this while still pretending to ransom us. I thought if I just stayed quiet, he’d leave me alone, not harm my parents.”

“Wait. You just said ‘pretending.’ He wasn’t really intending to ransom you?” If that was true, her research on the case had been leading in the right direction. The real intent could have been to murder the boys. A purpose like that often was connected to an inside job.

Emery shook his head. “After the first three weeks, Fenn and I overhead him talking to the other two men. They were making plans for our disposal, but had to wait for the signal from whoever was in charge. Apparently, the ransom was a ruse. Someone must have hired him, otherwise his waiting so long to finish us off doesn’t make sense. Now it’s happening again.”

Sophie narrowed her eyes, peering over Emery’s shoulder out the window as she puzzled over this new development. Just as she suspected. Planned, carefully planned murder of the Lockwood twins.

“Maybe whoever hired him was waiting for something to happen and killing you had to be postponed. He might have gotten scared about being exposed if he had Antonio make another run at you once you were safely home again.” It made sense. A third party could have hired Antonio and the others to take the twins, kill them, and make it all look like a botched ransom. But once Hans had been hired it would have made Antonio’s job harder, and he’d probably been advised to wait until Hans and Emery lowered their guard. Even if it took twenty-five years.

“Antonio never spoke of anyone else. He was a cruel bastard and spent most of the day finding ways to torture Fenn and me.”

“Emery, who could benefit from your death?” It was a risk to ask him something so sensitive, but she could feel the puzzle pieces were so close to coming together. She felt as though she were in a heavy cloud, and although she could feel shapes a dense fog wrapped around them, cloaking them from view, making them appear different from the truth.

“No one. I don’t have any enemies. Not even my business competitors hate me enough to try to kill me. My parents are retired, my uncle dead. Brant has fifty percent ownership of Lockwood Industries.”

At the mention of Brant, Sophie’s hair rose on the back of her neck. Something in her gut warned her he couldn’t be trusted.

“Through his father?”

“No, Uncle Rand didn’t leave anything to him in his will. He sold everything he held back to my father. Brant had to buy his way back into the company. When I took over from my father, I let him in pretty cheap.”

“That was nice of you,” Sophie murmured.

He shrugged. “I offered him the company, full out ownership five years ago. He didn’t take me up on it. Said he liked his position on the board and didn’t want me to leave as the president. Brant’s not perfect, but he’s no murderer.” Emery cupped the back of her neck and held her still as he bent his head to her, stealing a soft little kiss.

She rose up on tiptoes to return his kiss, letting all of her worries go for the moment. Cupping his face, she stroked his cheeks and licked at his lips, begging him to open his mouth to her. Emery curled his fingers around her waist and lifted her up against his body. With a gasp, Sophie clung to his shoulders before smiling at him and claiming his mouth again. Years of inner wounds—lonely aches, pain, and sadness, all of the things that had weighed her down and punctured her soul since she was seven years old—ceased to matter.

The feel of Emery’s mouth on hers, his arms around her body holding her protectively, flooded her with strength and hope. So long as he held her, kissed her, wanted her, she could do anything. She couldn’t think about when this kiss would end. That someday she’d have to go back to her own life. Leaving him would cleave her soul in two, and she’d have to use every bit of her willpower to stay alive. For now…she had this moment.

Beautiful and bittersweet.

His world was reduced to one single action. A kiss. Who was this woman who plucked his heart from his chest? He was a dominant man and should be in charge. Yet she stripped him of years’ worth of armor. Once more he was naked before her, telling her his every secret, his shames, his failings. And his dear, sweet Sophie had told him her own secret.

Rachel.

Her confession forced him to admit a disheartening truth.