“Thought this would help.”
I glance sideways, finding Levi offering me a large glass of scotch. “Thank you.” I accept the glass and take a huge gulp.
“Call her, Micah,” he says gently, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Allie only needs to understand.”
I’m guessing Juliet told Levi what happened when I requested he drive her home. Levi knows my secrets, as much as Juliet does. I don’t want to talk about this tonight. Not with Allie. Not with Juliet. Not with anyone. “Good night, Levi.”
“Good night” is all he says before leaving me alone.
I don’t even want to think about this. Not with the memory of seeing Allie look at me tonight the way Clara once had. Not with knowing that I had repeated mistakes I’d said I never would. Not when I hurt Allie. Deeply. Again.
I lift my glass of scotch to my mouth and down the entire drink, numbing my mind and warming the chill out of my bones.
My darkness stole Clara’s light.
I can’t let it steal Allie’s, too.
Chapter 17
Allie
The next morning, I’m blinded by the bright sun when I reach the newsstand in front of Holt. On the cover of the tabloid magazine Gotcha! is a photo of Micah and me arriving at the charity event last night. He’s not looking at the camera like I am. His focus is me. Regardless of what’s going on between us, his beaming smile makes me melt a little right here on the damn street. But then I look into his smoky blue-gray eyes and his pain is evident and I’m now guessing that has something to do with what Juliet told me last night.
My chest feels heavy when I pay the vendor for the magazine and begin flipping through the pages, quickly finding the article about us.
Look out, ladies, Micah Holt is madly in love.
Our sources tell us that the billionaire and his new girlfriend, Allison Parker, were giving major PDA last night!
Warmth floods my face as I note the photo of us kissing on the dance floor. God, Micah looks as hot as he felt. My heart clenches a little seeing the way he’s holding me. His posture is protective—dominating even. Which I guess makes a whole lot of sense now. But then I read what’s written next, and a wave of coldness steals the heat on my face.
But could this fairy tale end in disaster?
Our sources tells us that the real estate mogul has got himself a forbidden treasure.
I read a little more, seeing nothing further written about us, and even flip the page, finding a lipstick advertisement. First, relief settles in, and I’m thanking my lucky stars the tabloids haven’t figured out I’m Darius’s half-sister. That gives me more time to talk to Liv. But then a shiver of worry follows, descending on my spine, and I can’t stop looking at forbidden treasure, written in black ink against the shiny white page.
Questions beginning rushing through my mind…Why would the tabloids assume that I’m a forbidden treasure? And what makes me forbidden to Micah? The fact that I’m Darius’s half-sister? I shake the questions from my mind. They don’t even know I’m Darius’s half-sister, so what in the world could that headline be about? The hair on my neck stands up, a warning going off inside me, telling me there’s something off about this. It’s an odd tidbit for them to concentrate on.
The beeping of my phone snaps me into the present, reminding me I’m standing on the street, and the vendor is looking at me. I smile quickly at her, grab my cell from my purse, and now my heart leaps into my throat for another reason. Micah’s text.
Come see me.
I don’t bother firing off a text back to him. I’m beyond ready to see him today. He hadn’t called or texted me last night, or come to see me, which still surprises me a little. But at the same time, I guessed that meant he needed time to think, like I did, or maybe he was giving me the space he knew I required.
And the distance helped. A lot.
After I got home, I Googled Lace, but couldn’t find any mention of Micah, confirming the public doesn’t know he owns the club. I can only take that to mean there’s a good reason he keeps this part of himself a secret.
A secret that I want to know. Now.
Then I spent the next couple hours researching kink, which left my mind working overtime. I realized sometime between when my head hit the pillow and sleep overtook me, I couldn’t make assumptions about Micah. The kink world is huge, and it really depended where he fit into it if we could make this work. Because there wasn’t a hope in hell I’d ever do pony play, or let a guy whip me until bloody or bruised, or humiliate me.
I’d run from him last night, too overwhelmed by emotion. Today, after a good sleep and my realizations, I’m ready to get an explanation from Micah. Or I’m hoping to, I acknowledge, as I turn away from the newsstand and enter Holt’s main doors, feeling every pair of eyes turn in my direction. I force my chin up, looking straight ahead, thinking only of Micah.
I show my badge to the security guard, then quickly move into the elevator. Using my keycard, I hit the 61 button and then settle into the back, staying out of everyone’s way. I notice the two women in the corner whispering about me like I’m the luckiest woman in the world. I don’t feel like the luckiest woman. I feel like I’m barely treading the rough water, and soon, with very little effort from Micah, I’ll drown. Because now I don’t know my next steps. And even if I take a step, the ground feels unstable.
Before, I never would’ve given any man so many chances. Now things are different. Maybe I’ve changed a little, or maybe’s it’s that I care about Micah now. It’s not so easy to walk away. I heave a long sigh to myself, sick of being in my damn head, when it’s only me left in the elevator and I’m nearly at the top floor. The elevator doors open, and my heart is hammering…thump, thump, thump is all I can hear with each step I take. I pass the receptionists at the main desk, taking a right toward Neil at the end of hallway.