Wyatt (Lane Brothers #1) (45 page)

I’m not surprised when I see the road we’re on and know that we’re headed for his house. He’d said we were going back to the beginning, and I suppose he’s right when he says this is it.

It’s where I first surrendered myself to him. Where he showed me his true colors, and the one place I know I will always see as a home, even knowing it will never be mine.

“Greg—”

“Not yet. We’ll talk when we get there,” he snarls, and I flinch slightly when I see just how angry he is.

He’s usually so calm and collected that I know if he’s showing his anger his control is shot, and what I’m about to get is a whole lot of pissed off, aggressive male.

I’m not frightened, not even a little, because his temper tells me he’s not as unaffected by me as I’d always feared. Anger is a lot better than cold indifference, and after everything, that’s exactly what I expected from him.

He hits the gate remote and speeds up the drive, coming to a stop of swirling gravel and harsh breaths.

I chance a peek at him from beneath my lashes and gasp, seeing the uncontrolled lust and fury he’s set free. I’m in his arms and being kissed savagely in the next breath, his mouth crushing down so brutally I feel my teeth cut into my lips.

I revel in it, kissing him back just as greedily, shoving my tongue into his mouth to lick at him with a desperation that has my arousal skyrocketing in a matter of seconds.

I’ve been so empty and barren without him, and I’m wild to feel his possession. Just one more time before I go back to my life of heartbreak and solitude.

He snarls into my mouth and shoves me away forcefully, my back hitting the door with a thwack as he snarls and bares his teeth.

“Get inside before I fuck you in the car.”

My legs shake all the way to the door, and I’m a breath away from crying when he flips me over his shoulder and carries me into the living room to toss me onto the sofa.

“Greg.”

“Shut your mouth, Hannah.”

I press my lips together to stop their trembling and lie there, waiting for whatever it is he wants. Whatever punishment he’s preparing to mete out.

He paces for a few minutes before finally gaining enough control that the expressionless mask is back in place. I practically feel his scorn when our eyes lock and he drags them down my body before coming back up.

“Take your clothes off.”

The order startles me. The passion I’d felt in the car has cooled now, not enough to stop me but enough to make me hesitate at the hostility I see. If I give in, I know there will be no coming back from this.

He’s angry and wants revenge, and the only way to give it to him is to give him the one thing I have left. The one piece of my heart that isn’t already dead.

My fingers go to the hem of my shirt and I tug it up and over my head, dropping it the floor. My jeans are next, and I hesitate when I am down to my underwear, my hands trembling madly.

“Do it.”

He’s so cold I feel a shiver race the length of my spine. My bra falls, and I drop my panties too, baring myself in a gesture I know he won’t mistake.

He smiles, his teeth flashing white for a brief second before he picks me up and takes the stairs.

“Greg.”

“Shut up.”

When he lowers me to the bed I feel my skin heat, and he smiles knowingly.

“You’re mine now, Hannah Newman.”

What he does to me in the hours preceding dawn is something I will never forget as long as I live.

He worships me, tortures me, and has me begging, pleading my surrender so violently my voice is raw and sobbing. When he finally gives me the release I crave and takes his own deep within me, I am nothing more than a shell, a ghost.

I belong to him. I always have, and I always will, and now that he’s proven it I don’t know how I’ll survive if this is the last of us.

I fall asleep, weeping silently as he wraps himself around me, the pillow beneath my head drenched in the tears I’ve been keeping inside for weeks.

“No!”

After that soul-shattering night he drops me off at my apartment and tells me he’ll be waiting for me to return to work. I have exactly two weeks to work out my notice for Doctor Petros, and then I will be back at my old job, working not for another ad exec but for Gregory himself.

It’s all part of his plan to keep me close enough that he controls every move I make. I know it. I hate it, but it’s the price I’ve chosen to pay to have him.

“Chris, please try to understand,” I beg as we sit on the sofa, watching Nana braise lamb and potatoes at the tiny stove.

We’ve been arguing for a solid hour, and she’s so mad at me it’s a wonder she hasn’t stormed out and told me to go to hell.

“He ruined you! He turned you into a fucking zombie, and you want me to be okay that he’s back in your life? Jesus, Hannah, when is enough enough with this guy?”

Never. I don’t think I’ll ever have enough, and that’s scarier than anything I’ve ever known. But I can’t let this be over. I love him, I need him, and I know if I work at him for long enough he’ll have to love me back.

I’ve spent half my life being good and doing what’s right. The last three years have had been me ghosting my way to a sad and lonely future that holds an apartment clean enough to eat off the floors and a job that’s about as satisfying as a toothache.

I want more.

“I broke up with him,” I point out in a whisper, silently begging her not to upset Nana where she toddles around in the kitchen.

“Because he’s a dick. He’s only using you, Han, and he’ll break your heart if you let him,” she whispers back.

This upsets her more than I could have guessed, and I know that my recent behavior isn’t shining a good light on it. I don’t tell her that it’s impossible for him to break something that’s already broken and cremated, because she’ll go nuts, so I hold it back and inject a firm tone into my voice.

“I’m going back to the company tomorrow, and we’re back together for as long as we can stand to be together. I…I love him, Chris.”

“Christ. You’re a real idiot.”

“I know.”

She stands and wanders over to the small island separating the kitchen from the living room, and I know that the argument is over. She’s not happy, but she’ll let it go. For now.

“Oh dear, are you sure your young man won’t be over for dinner? This roast is too big for three women.”

“No, Nana. He’s away on business.”

It’s a total lie. He refuses to see me in any social setting apart from picking me up and driving to his house for two or three hours of sex. When we’re done, he takes me home, and that’s that.

We have no ‘relationship,’ just an agreement to share our bodies, and that’s all he’ll concede for now.

“That’s a shame, dear. Now, the lamb is in the oven for the next two hours. I think I’ll take a nap while it’s cooking. Wake me when the timer goes off.”

I nod and grin at her, amazed that a woman her age can still remember how to braise a lamb when just yesterday she’d called me Amber and laid into me for being a mooch.

I smirk when Chris ruffles my hair and wanders out, to return later for promised feast.

***

“Nana! Wakey wakey, sleepy head,” I yell form the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the lamb.

“I’ll go get her,” Chris laughs. “She’s so ornery lately I don’t know how you get through the day.”

I snort and level the spatula at her, laughing too because we both know I’m half-crazy from it.

“Make sure she hasn’t crawled out of the window, and hurry up. Cold lamb tastes icky.”

Chris leaves, calling down the hall, and I listen, expecting a crotchety reply to the teasing. When I hear nothing, I figure they’re plotting against me again and make my way to them, chuckling to myself and making plans to torture them with broccoli tomorrow night.

“Hannah! Call an ambulance!”

I’m running before I know it, and when I get to Nana’s room it’s to the sight of Chris leaning over her, her frantic movements and chest pumps telling me that she’s performing CPR.

“Chris…”

“Call a goddamned ambulance, Hannah! I think she’s had a heart attack!”

The rest of it’s a blur as I race down the hall and grab the phone. All I remember later, when we’re huddled in the hospital waiting area, is the paramedics shoving me and Chris out of the way and the argument we’d faced to catch a ride to the hospital.

It’s been hours, and I’m cold and hungry and so terrified I’ve dug half-moons into Chris’s hand. When another hour passes with no word, I go into a trance, seeing and hearing nothing as I frantically keep praying that she’ll be all right, that while I’d cooked goddamned lamb in the kitchen she hadn’t died.

I don’t remember a pulse or breathing sounds. Just her cold, gray skin and the expressionless mask on her face.

I feel arms come around me and I lean in, needing so much more than this but grateful to Chris all the same.

“I don’t think she made it, Chris,” I say through stiff lips that threaten to tremble. “They would have said something by now. Oh God, why haven’t we heard anything?”

The uncertainty and terror is choking me, and it takes everything not to collapse in a heap of sobbing misery. All I can think is that she’ll never shove bread rolls in her panties again, and I’d just stocked up.

I can’t even begin to imagine how I’ll live without naked Thursdays, either, which is awful because the neighbors are threatening to get us evicted.

“Shhh, darlin’, she’ll be just fine. You just take a deep breath and calm down.”

I nod, not yet registering that the arms and the voice, the solid heat surrounding me and keeping me up, do not belong to my best friend. When I do though, I can honestly say I am floored.

“Greg? W-what…how?” I stammer, seeing him through a sheen of tears as profound relief hits me. “She…she…”

I can’t finish as a doctor stops in front of me, looking grim.

“Miss Newman, I’m Doctor Jonas. I’m sorry for the wait, but I wanted to be sure she was out of the woods before speaking with you.”

I rise to shaky feet, grateful for the strong arms that keep me close and hold me up. If not for this I would likely be a wrecked puddle on the floor.

“She’s okay?”

I feel tears streaming down my face and ignore them, almost sobbing my relief when he nods.

“She had a mild heart attack, but at her age it is usually fatal. You got to her just in time. We’ve stabilised her, and we’re keeping her sedated until her pressure comes down. Her levels are looking much better, though, so I don’t see any need to worry at this point.”

“She’s okay then? She won’t die or anything?”

“She’s a tough old bird. With proper rest and medication she should make a full recovery, although I will stress that she will need a calm, stress-free environment. And day care.”

Day care? I’ll quit my job and do whatever needs doing as long as she’s okay.

“Thank you, Doctor. When can we see her?” Gregory asks.

“You can see her for a few minutes now, and then tomorrow morning during visiting hours.”

I nod and allow myself to be pulled along, snapping out of my daze enough to realize that Chris is flanking me on the other side, and for once mute about Gregory’s presence.

I’m totally exhausted and so grateful to see her breathing and alive I burst into tears when we near her bed. Those strong arms pull me into a solid chest, and I feel his hands soothing me.

“Let’s get you home, darlin’. You’re done in.”

I am, but with him here I feel more than better, and I nod tiredly as he takes my hand and leads me away.

“Hannah, wake up.”

I feel a hand ghost over my cheek and open my eyes, stretching languidly. Gregory is leaning over me, and it takes me a minute to realize he’s holding a breakfast tray.

“Come on. Sit up.”

I do, and look down in wonder at the feast he expects me to finish.

“Gregory, this is way too much food,” I begin.

He shushes me and picks up the fork, glaring at me till I open my mouth and accept the bite of eggs and bacon he’s speared on it. We don’t speak as he feeds me, though I did reassure him I can feed myself, and when I am done he rises and leaves the room, taking the empty tray with him.

When he comes back all tenderness is gone, which I suppose is only fair, seeing as it’s been five days since Nana’s heart attack and I no longer need him to keep me from going nuts.

I cherish that brief time of care, but I see now that it’s over, and I prepare myself for whatever crawled up his ass this morning.

“I am very glad Nana is okay.”

“Me too,” I murmur, pulling the sheets up to my naked breasts. “Could I get dressed?”

I ask every time, because if I do get dressed and he doesn’t want me to, he can be one mean son of a bitch when he retaliates. The last time I’d made that mistake I’d had to sit through an hour of some weird documentary I can’t remember while he tortured me with his hands and mouth.

“No. We need to talk,” he says, stopping at the corner of the bed to look down at me.

I’ve decided that this is for the best, and honestly I’m not even a little uncertain anymore. We’ve run our course, and I need to be done now. I’ve learned that life is short, thanks to Nana’s brush with death, and spending my time with a man who has told me in no uncertain terms that he doesn’t love me is not healthy.

I need a new start, and I am quite frankly sick and tired of his attitude.

“I know.” I sigh deeply before squaring my shoulders. “It’s past time to be done. We’re…”

He narrows his eyes at me, shutting me up, and tosses something onto the bed. I don’t move until he nods down, only then dropping my eyes to the coverlet.

My hand is shaking as I reach out to pick it up, and I stop breathing when my eyes finally focus and I am staring at an engagement ring with a diamond that is big but tasteful.

“What is this?” I whisper, sitting as still as a statue.

When he doesn’t answer I force my eyes up to his. His face isn’t expressionless. It’s worse. He’s looking at me with a cold determination that makes me shudder.

“I want what you took from me, Hannah,” he says, taking a step closer. “I’m thirty-two years old. I want a wife and a family. You took that away from me, and now I expect you to give it back.”

“You don’t love me.”

It’s a tortured whisper gasped out past the lump choking me to death.

He shrugs and takes my hand, studying the ring thoughtfully.

“It’s resized.”

“Gregory, this is…”

Not a good idea. Breaking my heart. Not happening.

“You will marry me, Hannah,” he snarls, and I swallow convulsively.

Not because he loves me or wants me or anything that resembles an emotion I can live with. He wants to own me and take revenge for ruining his engagement and the merger I now know would have followed between Lucas and Jeffries Industries.

If he’s just asked…..

I stare at the ring and know what I have to do…