CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
IVY
T he room is closing in on me. Tears are streaming over my cheeks, sweat cascading down my spine. The words are out, but I’m shaking, terrified of his answer. Yesterday was the happiest I’d ever felt, and today—well, today, I don’t know what to feel or think or be.
Was any of it real?
Before the question even concludes, Wells leaps out of his chair, rounds his desk, and kneels before me. Something about witnessing this dominant man on his knees in worry is jarring, as if this situation wasn’t dizzying enough.
He sweeps a tendril of hair behind my ear and brushes his fingertips over my cheeks, collecting the drops of my disillusionment. His face is as twisted as my stomach. “Yes, Ivanna. Every moment between us has been real.”
“How can I trust that when you’ve been hiding everything from me? When I’m a job? Why would I believe you?”
His eyebrows knit as though there’s an obvious answer.
“Because I’m in love with you. So in love that you make me lose my goddamn mind.
I don’t even know when it first happened, but I know you feel it.
You know my feelings are genuine. You’re my everything.
” His eyes are brimming with unshed tears—yet another sight I never thought I’d see.
Mine won’t stop falling because I do feel the truth in that declaration. I felt it in moments before it ever made sense. And this is what I wanted—to be loved by Gavin Wells—but not like this.
“Say something, Ives. Please. Fight me. Yell at me. But talk to me.” His request makes me wonder how long I’ve been sitting here, aching and dazed.
Time hasn’t felt this confusing since my father’s stroke. In those first days, hours could feel like seconds, minutes like months.
Grains of sand.
My eyes flick to his, jade now with the anguish speckling them. I need to muddle my way through this, collect the breadcrumbs leading to the big picture. Self-pity has no place here, nor does empathy for the man crouched at my feet.
I lift my chin. “When were you hired to find me?”
“About five and a half years ago. But it took us nearly eight months to track you down.”
Fuck. Every answer knocks my balance off more.
“You’ve known who I was and where I was for five years?” I gasp.
“Yes,” he says plainly, allotting me time to process.
Too many loose ends sway from that, so I begin with the one producing the most rage inside me. “And you planned to turn me over for what? How much money?”
“Once I saw you, I wasn’t ready to turn you over, so I met with your father.
It was the week of your eighteenth birthday.
Tom was expecting me—always a step ahead of this mess.
We discussed the situation and agreed to keep you safe until you were prepared.
So, I waited through the college years, watching and protecting you. ”
While I appreciate that little tidbit of information, his evasiveness stirs up a violent storm inside me—true to his nickname for me.
My jaw locks. “How much was I worth to you?”
His fingers skate up and down my thighs—a plea. “Don’t think of it like that. You’re priceless to me, Ivy. My whole world. You know that.”
I shove my chair back, springing out of it like it’s an active volcano spurting me forth. “And you know what I’m fucking asking!”
He rises off the floor, dragging a hand down his scruff, somehow more haggard than normal. “Millions. Fourteen when we accepted this job, but it was a father with deep pockets, searching for his daughter. That’s what we were hired for.”
Fourteen million.
Jesus Christ. What the hell is happening?
I’m not illogical. I understand the angle that I was just another person to find. Wells didn’t owe me anything then, but he does now. “Was my father—the man who raised me—paying you to protect me for those five years?”
“Yes. Ten million.”
That pisses me off for whatever reason. Fuck. I’m so angry. And so damn hot. I rip off my hoodie and chuck it to the couch behind me, leaving myself in a tiny tank. “Not so noble then, Mr. Wells. Double-dipping to milk every cent out of me.”
With a grunt, he yanks on his hair like the strands hold the solution to all of this.
“I’m sure it seems that way. But no. We used extensive time and resources to keep you hidden.
His money was designated for that.” He spins away from me for a beat, turning back with eyes so heavy that it stills me.
“I trusted your father. We became close. He was a friend.” He flings his hand through the air.
“Hell, he was the closest thing I’ve had to a father since I lost mine.
During those four and a half years before he was sick, with his help and approval, I worked to make your situation more favorable.
I alerted O’Reilly that I’d found you but wouldn’t turn you over until you were ready.
And I helped him start gaining the votes. ”
I don’t know which piece of that to dissect first, so I dig into the piece that makes the least sense. “Votes?”
He rests his hands on his hips, more relaxed with this line of questioning, I guess. “No woman has ever been Head of Family with these groups or held a seat with KORT. It was a move requiring approval from three seats. It took years.”
“And my father, Dr. Kingston , was in favor of securing those votes? Why would he help you do that? This is what he wanted? Me to have a seat in this cabal?”
Flipping the chair that I was sitting in to face where I’m pacing, he drops into it.
“Tom raised you to be strong and capable. He believed you deserved it. And he felt Eleanor’s hopes for you to have a normal life had been fulfilled.
It’s an honor, a position of the utmost power.
He wanted you to have the choice as an adult. ”
I freeze, glaring at him as my heart plummets to my stomach. “And what was in it for you?”
He rubs his forehead. “When Tom first explained it all to me and we sought to obtain the votes, it was because the finder’s fee would increase.”
Since that nauseates me to the point of nearly losing my breakfast, I give myself whiplash by doubling back. “You call him Tom. You guys were close.” It’s not a question, simply a paraphrasing of some of what he’s explained. A fact that has the tears flowing again.
That’s why my dad reacted when he saw Wells that first day with me. Was he happy to see Wells? Relieved?
He bends forward, elbows on his knees with a shaky breath. “Yes. He was a mentor, a friend. He treated me like a son.” His voice is strained. He’s undeniably broken from the loss, and that stakes me right through the heart. “I miss him every day. And he knew I was taken with you. He approved.”
I collapse onto the couch, like I’ve been pummeled by a freight train. It feels as though there are pieces of me scattered all over this room. Completely disconnected. “So, the day we met, you and Ty knew … and you already felt something for me … how?”
“You’d been under my skin for years, Ives, since the beginning.
Although you were so young then, but you still got to me—an obsession in ways.
I thought day and night about how to make this all easier on you, how to keep you safe.
I watched you thrive in college, saw how strong you were, how you were the light in every goddamn room you walked into, and I dreamed about how maybe, one day, you’d be mine.
But, Jesus , you’re more than I ever imagined, baby. ”
In other circumstances, that would be the most romantic profession I’d ever heard, but instead, it’s merely another fragment lying in the rubble.
“Why didn’t you just tell me all of this when we met? Or come to my house before that and explain who you were, who I was?”
“After your father had the stroke, we needed time.” His eyes close with a heavy breath. “You to grieve and me to come up with a new plan because he was supposed to explain everything—to prepare you and ease you into it. That was the exciting plan he had for you after graduation.”
So much about that statement unhinges me. This is what my father wanted, and when I told my husband about the plans I’d never know about and how lost I felt, he never let on that he knew. That stings regardless of his reasoning. It taints our intimacy.
My hand crawls up to my chest, an avalanche of conflicting emotions crushing me.
Wells clears his throat, although it’s more of a groan, like he’s in physical pain.
“I told O’Reilly I needed to give you an extra year due to a family tragedy.
He was disappointed but understanding. Then, that ancestry test hit, and I had to get you out of there.
But I wanted to do it in the least frightening way possible.
If I’d told you all this to begin with, do you honestly believe you’d have willingly come with me so I could protect you properly? ”
“No, I wouldn’t have.” I’d have thought he was a lunatic and never heard him out.
It would’ve all been far smoother if my dad had told me years ago.
It certainly would have explained why I was forbidden to have social media accounts or to go anywhere with crowds or to ever share personal information with someone who hadn’t been vetted.
My lungs burn. “My dad. You said it was treason. Will they—”
“No. Part of the deal I made was that your parents wouldn’t be held accountable and would be considered untouchables.
O’Reilly isn’t thrilled that you were kept from him.
Until recently, no one knew Tom’s identity or yours.
I think it’s suspected now, although you did so good, using a fake name and Celeste’s address on the ancestry forms. Brilliant, as always.
Tom taught you well. Anyway, O’Reilly is grateful you were well cared for.
He’s not a vengeful man, and he knows you love your parents, so he agreed to let it go. ”
“Okay,” I whisper, fiddling with the hem on my tank. “And the danger I’m in, if I reveal my identity to O’Reilly, does that solve it?”