CHAPTER EIGHTEEN #2
“Maybe.” He buries his face in his hands.
I’ve never seen him so drained. His eyes finally snap to mine.
“There’s a lot to discuss with that. Assuming a seat isn’t a simple process.
They’ll want to see that you’re capable.
That, alone, could be a treacherous venture.
Although they’ve assured me your safety won’t be compromised.
And there are those in the organization who are adamant that a woman, especially one not raised in the life, should not be permitted to hold the seat.
That poses a separate danger, far more threatening. ”
I scoff. “So, the board I’m supposed to work for is an organization full of misogynistic pigs?”
“You won’t be working for them. You’ll be running the country with them.
As powerful as any of them—an equal. And, yes, they may support women in public offices, but convincing them a woman should be the one pulling the strings was a challenge.
” He smiles—a genuine, doting smile. “I’m confident you’d destroy that perspective. ”
I hold up my hand, not capable of handling his praise at the moment. It hurts. “Thanks, but I need time, Wells. To make sense of this. It’s so fucked up. I need to go—”
“Where?” His face is riddled with panic.
“For now, to my old room, maybe for a run. Alone. Since I’m surrounded by people who, regardless of their reasons, have been pretending, lying, and using me as a paycheck. I don’t know how to trust any of you.”
A frown tugs the corners of his lips down—lips that were all over me, making me scream expletives into my pillow hours ago.
“I won’t claim that I’ve done everything perfectly, Ivanna.
But I’ve done everything with you, your father, and those three men out there in mind. Carried it all the best I could.”
I nod and start for the door, believing at least in some capacity that’s true, when another nagging suspicion crashes over me. “There was a guy in college who hurt me. He—”
“Yes,” he avows, no faltering. “I killed that fucking rapist. And I won’t hesitate to kill anyone who dares to touch you or even thinks about harming you.”
My eyes close on a cleansing inhale-exhale cycle.
I’m unsure what to do with that. Ambivalent.
If I’m honest with myself, it speaks to my heart with some peculiar primal fluttering, like when a cat delivers a dead rat to their owner.
Disturbing and endearing at once. But I can’t tarry there because it also enrages me.
He knew. They all knew everything about me. My darkest moments.
Wells stands, stepping toward me, but suddenly thinks better of it and restrains himself, stashing his hands in his pockets. “Do not run alone. It isn’t safe. We can pace ourselves away from you, but I won’t allow you to go alone.”
I don’t answer, too infuriated, sick of the restrictions. He can choke on his fucking orders.
Heading for my old room, I pass the guys, who are all perched on the couch in the great room with coffees, flames flickering in the fireplace, like they’re the stars of a morning show.
Their lingering eyes scream that I’m the top story and they’ve been gathering quotes.
They follow my every move, and while I’m not immature enough to spit fire like a dragon, as I’d prefer, I’m also not evolved enough to smile and ease their discomfort.
I turn my back on them, but unfortunately, it’s me who loses.
They all have each other, but as I shut the door to the empty room, the silence shouts how alone I am.
My thoughts have been spinning a million miles a minute. Time has warped to nothing, my existence distorting into a Salvador Dali painting—surreal with the burden of melting clocks.
I’ve sat on my old bed, in this dark room, for the entire day.
The guys stop by, dangling gifts of meals and drinks at the locked door.
I answer cordially, accept the offering, and promptly lock myself in again.
I’m not one for the silent treatment. I prefer to unload my grievances and move on.
But this is too much. I can’t have conversations with them when I don’t know what I’m thinking.
I tried calling Celeste, but to no avail.
I’m afraid to call my mom. If she’d known about my father’s plans for me after graduation, she would’ve told me.
So, until I know how I want to respond, I’ll keep it to myself so I don’t terrify her.
And Rena, as much as I adore her, she’s the sister of men who are not much different than the ones in this house and their close allies.
I don’t think she’d share anything I said, but I’m not sure who I can trust.
So, I’m isolated from everyone, desperate for my father and his direction.
Wells was right. It would’ve been different if my father had delivered this information.
He had a way of cushioning everything, bathing even the harshest messages in a golden light.
It’s why our house was constantly visited by men who sought guidance.
Thomas Kingston always knew how to navigate even the rockiest terrain.
He would have pumped me up for this, encouraged me to accept the role I was born to conquer.
Maybe that’s the most confusing part. The truth in everything Wells said was most apparent when he spoke of my father—his wisdom, how he treated him like a son.
How Wells misses him every day. The knowledge of their bond strengthens my love for Wells, and I hate myself for it because I feel like a fool.
Although, when I strip the emotions away, logic shows me Wells did the best he could with a difficult situation.
It isn’t lost on me that he promised ten million in the prenup should he not keep me safe or break our arrangement—the exact amount my father had paid him to protect me.
He’s been honorable, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not who I thought I was.
Or that life will never be the same. Or that the relationships with the men who mean everything to me were essentially built on a secret, whether for my own safety or not.
But no matter how angry I get, Wells’s words from the last months swirl around me.
“You, Little Storm. I was waiting for you.”
“Sometimes, storms come to decimate everything we deem important. Other times, they come to clear our path.”
“You changed everything, Ivanna. Turned it all upside down. The moment I saw you, I knew I was lost to whatever path you carved for me.”
“This moment with you is worth a hundred of these, Little Storm. It’s worth every car in this garage a hundred times over. Every moment with you is.”
“Tell me you know there is nothing more important to me than you. No matter what else happens, I need you to know that.”
“Because I’m in love with you. So in love that you make me lose my goddamn mind.”
He’s been holding this secret, carrying the weight of this fucked-up world, and trying to prove how much I mean to him through it all. So have the guys—Ty asking me to let him take care of me, Liam claiming I was his family, and even Gage accepting me through each and every baked good.
My head hurts too much to think anymore, so I request a bottle of wine from Liam through a text, who delivers it with nachos prepared by Gage.
Ty sneaks in as I take the goods to peck my forehead.
The alcohol, the snack, and a Hallmark movie—where the heroine’s life is crumbling because she might lose the family farm, but a billionaire passing through falls in love with her and saves it all—distract me from my sulking.
I wish I had a farm. With screaming goats or fainting ones. So simple.
I climb under the covers as the wine dwindles and the next movie begins.
I must’ve passed out. My body feels heavy, pinned to the mattress.
Cotton fills my mouth, and my head spins, courtesy of that bottle of wine I consumed.
When I open my eyes, it’s pitch-black, and the house is still and quiet, except for a soft murmur.
I glance around for the source, and as my eyes adjust, I find Wells sprawled beside me, which is also when I realize I’m in our bedroom, wearing one of his T-shirts, and his arm is draped across my waist possessively.
I smack his bicep and catapult myself upright. “What the fuck am I doing in here, Wells?” After all the liberties he’s taken, I’m not sure why this is the one ruffling me, but it is.
He boosts himself up onto his elbows. “What’s wrong, Ives?”
Irritated at his nonchalant attitude regarding this moment, I groan. “How did I get in here?”
He yawns. “I unlocked the door last night and carried you to bed.”
I bend my knees to my chest, fisting my hair on both sides of my aching head. All that sadness I was feeling has morphed into full-blown fury. And I’m too tired and worn out not to throw a tantrum. “What part of me needing time and space was confusing?”
He pops up, back ramrod straight and towering over me in only his boxers, which I suppose is a concession since he generally sleeps naked and insists on me doing the same.
“Not confusing at all. I gave you the day, and I’m happy to let you wallow today and tomorrow and every day this week.
But you are my wife, Ivanna. You belong in our bed. ”
My jaw falls slack. “That’s your concern? Are you serious right now?”
“Deadly,” he affirms, moving to prop himself against the headboard.
I scoff, shaking my head in disbelief. “You gave me a day to accept that I am not who I thought, that I have people attempting to end me, that I was adopted or essentially stolen, and that I am married to a man and living with men who knew who I was, watched me for five years, and murdered people on my behalf, but pretended we just met. How generous. Oh.” I sling my arms through the air.
“And let’s not forget there’s a multimillion-dollar price on my head. ”
“Yeah.” He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his stubble. “It’s a lot. All the more reason you needed to come to bed with me.”