29. What’s Wrong with Losing Myself?
CHAPTER 29
WHAT’S WRONG WITH LOSING MYSELF?
Archer
“Paloma, this is my mother. Freya.” I take Paloma’s hand in mine and gesture toward Mom. “Mom, this is Paloma. My wife.”
Mom beams at Paloma and steps forward to shake her hand, but Paloma shuffles back looking like she’s seen a ghost. All the color drains from her face as her hands grow cold. Her reaction is slowly sinking in, but for the life of me, I’ve no clue what she’s reacting to.
“What does this mean?” Paloma looks up at me. Sheer terror marring her beautiful features. “Archer? Why does your mother look exactly like mine?”
“The fuck?” Jacob blurts out.
Now it’s my turn to feel horrified. Paloma lost her mother when she was four. Whatever image or memory she has of her mom is from stories her father told of her. If she recognizes my mom, it’s because she’s seen her portrait. But what the fuck does that mean if Paloma thinks the woman in front of her right now is her mother?
“Oh my God, Archer.” Gardenia places a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and pity.
“Let’s all take a step back.” Fisher puts up his hands and turns to Freya. “Freya, care to chime in?”
Mom stares at Paloma. The minute it takes her to formulate an answer is the longest of my life. Because even if no one has said it aloud, we’re all thinking the same thing. Are Paloma and I half-siblings? What the fuck? How is that even possible.
“Mom.” I stalk toward her. “This is not the time to grow silent.”
She looks at me in disbelief, then turns to Paloma. “I’m sorry, dear. I don’t mean to be blasé about this, but who are you again? Why do you think I’m your mother?”
“Because you look like her? You are her.” Paloma rubs her temple. “Are you?”
“Mom? Did you…?” I can’t even say the words. For one, because being related to Paloma would be the most fucked up turn of events. But also, because the implication that Mom of all people would have a relationship with Senator Davis, the man that murdered my father in cold blood, is just unfathomable. “Mom.” My voice booms in the room.
“Aunt Freya,” Gardenia says tentatively. “This is Senator Davis’s daughter.”
“Yes. You mentioned that.” Mom points at Paloma. “What I’m trying to understand is why she thinks I’m her mother. Why in the world would I ever?—”
“Mom.” I cut her off before she says too much in front of Paloma. Even though I’ve decided to tell her the truth. Right now, isn’t the time. My family’s portraits need to be secured before I unleash the truth, before the Senator finds out who I am, and why I’m here. “Is Paloma your daughter?”
“Good grief, Tristan.” She glares at me with so much disgust in her eyes. “Do you understand what you’re asking? Me and that awful man?”
“Okay.” I put up my hands. “I just had to ask to make sure.”
“I don’t understand.” Paloma’s voice is barely above a whisper. “Why would Dad keep a portrait of you all these years. There are many photos as well. Why lie about who my mother is?”
“I have a few theories.” Mom purses her lips. “None of which my son would want me to discuss in front of you.”
Was I hoping this meet would go different? Absolutely. I hoped Mom and Paloma would meet and become fast friends. They have ballet in common. That should’ve been enough to spark a conversation between them. I sure as fuck was not expecting Paloma to think her mother had come back from the dead. And that we were now half-siblings.
But now that the shock of it is wearing off, I can see how this whole misunderstanding is just one more of the Senator’s tangled web of lies. But I can’t openly discuss any of it without telling Paloma the truth. She’s not ready. Until I come up with a good explanation as to why my mom and her mom look the same, I can’t tell her the truth.
“Paloma.” I turn to my wife. “I think your father has been lying to you about who your mother is.” I opt for the simplest truth. Even if it cuts her deep, learning her father is a liar is better than finding out he’s a cold-blooded killer.
“No.” She shakes her head, shuffling away from me. “He wouldn’t do that. Why would he? It makes no sense.” She points at Mom. “She doesn’t want to admit the truth.” Tears well up in her eyes as she glances at me. “And you.”
“Paloma, listen to me.” I reach for her hand, but she slaps it away.
“No.” She backs away until she’s at the bottom of the grand staircase. Her lip trembles, and for a moment, I can see her indecision. She fucking wants to run away again.
“Paloma.” I take a handful of long strides to plant myself between her and the front door.
If she needs time to think about what any of this means, fine. She can have all the time she needs. But she can’t leave me.
“This can’t be. It just can’t.” She wipes her cheeks as her gaze bounces between me and Mom. After several beats, she turns on her heels and runs back upstairs.
“Fuck.” I run a hand through my hair. “Mary Jane,” I call out.
When she doesn’t answer, I fish my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and dial the housekeeping number. Mary Jane answers on the first ring. “Mr. Archer?”
“Make sure Paloma doesn’t leave the house,” I say.
“Yes, Mr. Archer.” Her voice is tentative, but she doesn’t dare ask what’s going on.
“Thanks.” I hang up, then turn to my family. “Study. Now.”
I stride to my desk and fire up my computer to look at pictures I took of the stolen paintings I found at the Senator’s mansion the day I snuck into his suite. I counted three. Plus, there was a fourth one in the Senator’s study. I never saw one of Mom.
Mom, Gardenia, and Jacob walk in with Fisher bringing up the rear. When everyone is in, he shuts the door and turns to me, then Mom. The look on his face is of pure disgust. Or is that jealousy?
“And here you were worried about telling Freya you married your enemy’s daughter.” Jacob blows out a breath. “So fucked up.”
“Freya, just so we’re all on the same page here.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Is there a slight possibility Paloma is your daughter.”
“Jesus Christ, Fisher.” Mom raises her voice. “I think I would know if I had a child after Tristan.”
“Mom, don’t call me that. It’s Archer here,” I interrupt.
“Archer?” She slow-blinks, shaking her head. “Did you really go on and marry that man’s daughter? Why in the world would you do that?”
“It’s complicated.” I brace both hands on the desk. “I thought I wanted revenge. But now, all I want is to keep her safe.”
“Why is the Senator telling people Freya is the mother of one of his children though?” Jacob plops himself on the sofa. “What’s the end game there?”
“The end game is he’s a psychopath.” Mom lowers herself on the sofa across from Jacob and drops her head in her hand. “I told you to stay away from that man. All he knows is his own greed. He’s dangerous.”
“I can handle him.” I sit next to her. “It’s almost over. He’s on the brink of ruin. There’s only one job left.”
“What is that?” She looks at me with wet eyes.
“He has the family paintings.” I shoot a glance toward the upstairs. “He’s been telling people my grandparents are his parents. That they built the mansion he lives in. And now, as you know, he’s been telling his own daughter that you are her mom. Do you see what he’s been doing? He’s an orphan. He has no family. So he invented one.”
“He didn’t invent one.” Gardenia props herself on the sofa arm. “He stole your dad’s life. He took all the stories and made them his own. We all heard him that day, didn’t we? At Chuck’s birthday party?”
“Yeah.” Jacob nods. “Somehow lying to Paloma about her mom feels more fucked up than everything else. Why is that?”
“Because now she’s upstairs thinking she’s been fucking her big brother,” Gardenia blurts out.
“Gardenia.” Fisher’s voice rumbles in the room. “Watch your words.”
“Sorry.” She looks at me. “But you know it’s true. How are you going to convince her of the truth, without telling her the whole truth?”
“I don’t know.” I sit back and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I think the only way out of this mess is to come clean. Tell her everything. It’s a risk we can’t avoid anymore. She has to know.”
“What about the paintings? Will you be okay if those get destroyed too?” Fisher asks. “Because that’s exactly what the Senator is going to do once he finds out you and Freya are still alive.”
“I know. That’s why we need to get them back tonight.” I brace my arms on my knees and meet Jacob’s gaze. “Did we figure out where he took the paintings after he lost the mansion?”
“Yes. Security is minimal. I mean, he’s certainly not expecting Tristan Sallows to come looking for his family heirlooms. So, the portraits are not guarded at all. They’re in his beach house in the Hamptons.”
“That’s an easy job.” Fisher rubs the side of his face. “Once you have the paintings, it’ll be easier to explain to Paloma why the Senator lied about Freya’s portrait.”
“The question is, if Paloma can believe her father lied about her real mom, would that help her process the fact that he’s also a killer? That he not only killed my dad, but he also stole his life?” I release a breath.
I can’t lose her. Her father has his hooks into her so deep, she can’t see him for what he is. Even now, she chose to run away and hide in our suite rather than face the fact that everything she knows about her mom is possibly a lie. Or that, at the very least, she doesn’t know what her mom looks like.
Acid pools in my stomach as I consider the many times the Senator pointed at my mother’s portrait and called her image a whore. No wonder he has so much contempt for her. Was my mother’s face a reminder of what all the horrible things he had to do to get to the level of power and wealth he has now?
“You know.” Mom shifts her body to look at me. “Paloma looks familiar.”
“How do you mean?” I furrow my brows at her. “She doesn’t look like the Senator at all.”
“Her golden eyes are so distinct. I’ve only known one other person with eyes like that. She was a friend back at my ballet company. We both joined at the same time.” She bites the inside of her lip. “I can’t remember her name. It was a Spanish name.”
“Um.” Gardenia slides down onto the sofa cushion. “Do you want me to poke around the archives and see if seeing a few names can jog your memory?”
“There’s no time for that, Gardenia.” Fisher places a hand on Mom’s shoulder, and Mom leans into it.
“I can multi-task.” She rolls her eyes. “If you’re going to tell Paloma that the mom she thinks is her mom is not her mom, at least offer her the truth. If Aunt Freya’s old ballet friend can help us find Paloma’s real mom, we kind of owe it to her to find out. Don’t you think?” She looks to me. “Archer?”
“She’s right, Fisher.” I nod. “Do it. Whatever we can do to ease Paloma’s pain is worth our time.” I face Jacob. “You and I can work out a plan for tonight.”
“I’m always up for a heist.” Jacob smirks.
“Be careful, Son.” Mom pats my hand. “This man is dangerous. Someone who can live with a lie for twenty years isn’t right.” Her eyes fill with pity and sorrow. “No matter what you do to this man, it won’t bring Edward back. I made peace with that. I was hoping that being here and getting married would help you do the same. But now I see that it only served to fuel your anger even more.”
“Mom, I promise. When all this is over, I will finally find peace. And if I have any say in it, Paloma will be part of my new life, my new family.”
“Yes.” She nods, smiling. “Fisher already explained. And it’s easy to see when you’re together. You’re like magnets.”
“She’s important to me.” I meet her gaze.
Beyond my obsession for her, this is the first time I admit in front of my family that what I feel for Paloma is more than an inexplicable attraction. She’s more than mine. She’s my life.
“You’re in love with her.” Mom cups my cheek. “And if her reaction to me is any indication, she’s in love with you too.”
“I want to forget about all the bad. But until she sees who her father really is, she won’t be free. I need to face the Senator. For her. And for me.” I scan the faces around the room. “Until he’s gone, none of us will be free.”
One by one they all nod in agreement. Paloma is one of us now. She needs our protection. The Senator is the only person standing between her and the happiness she deserves. I don’t care if he’s punished anymore. I care that he’s gone for good—out of our lives forever.
“Okay, so step one is get the paintings back.” Gardenia jumps to her feet and ambles to my desk. “We followed the moving truck that left the mansion a few months back to the beach house. I did a bit of recon. The ten-thousand square foot home belongs to an LLC. Like Jacob pointed out, there’s minimal security. They’re not expecting anyone to come for the paintings. The security guards are all retired cops. They’re just there to keep intruders out. Nothing fancy.”
“There’s a cellar.” Jacob joins Gardenia and looks over her shoulder at my laptop screen. “There. It’s underground. I bet you that’s where he’s keeping them.”
“And we know for sure nothing has moved out of there since it arrived?” I brace my hands on my knees and turn to look at them. “We only get one shot at this.”
“Positive.” Gardenia beams at me. “This will be a cake walk. We can definitely do it tonight.” She clicks on a few things on the laptop, then points. “The beach is our way in. And guess who’s letting us use his house for staging?”
“Jesus, Gardenia.” I run a hand through my hair. By the excited, lovesick look on her face, I can only guess she called Santino again. “Tell me you didn’t call Santino.”
She glances up at Jacob. “We didn’t call Santino.”
“Except we did.” Jacob shrugs. “You said you wanted this done fast. Calling in the mob is the fastest way to get anything done.”
“And since you’ve been shacked up for days upstairs. We had to make some executive decisions down here.” Gardenia sits back folding her arms over her chest. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Fuck. She’s not wrong.
I’ve been so preoccupied with Paloma, I didn’t have time at all to think about a plan to get my family paintings back. Luckily, Gardenia and Jacob figured it out on their own.
“Fine. What’s one more favor owed to the mob.” I rise to my feet. “We’ll leave right after dinner. Before then, let’s get some rest. Yeah?”
“You got it, boss.” Jacob dips his head.
“Let me guess, you’re going back upstairs?” Gardenia rolls her eyes at me.
“Yes, I am. I need to make sure Paloma is not spiraling over this.” I brace my hands on my hips. “The Senator has an odd influence over her. You heard how he treats her. And how she copes with it. It’s not normal.”
“Right.” Gardenia lowers her gaze. “Go talk to her. We’ll work on getting our gear together.”
“Thank you.” I smile at her.
“Tristan.” Mom stands and rushes to me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Be careful.”
“I will, Mom.” I kiss the top of her head, then leave.
“Wait. Before you leave.” Gardenia ambles toward us. “At least give Aunt Freya one piece of good news.” She beams at me. When I give her a puzzled look, she adds, “The pink lady?”
“Jesus, I completely forgot about that.” I stride to the safe in the credenza behind my desk and retrieve the necklace with the pink diamond pendant.
Mom’s eyes fill up with tears the minute I place the diamond in her hand. “Everything else is gone. But at least, we were able to recover this.”
“Tristan.” She sobs, placing her hand to her mouth. “I never thought I’d see my engagement ring again. Thank you.”
“We’ll have to reset it.” I hug her.
She nods. And wraps her arms around my waist. Stealing the diamond is not going to get Dad back. But it will at least be a reminder that no matter what we still have each other. We still have small pieces of our old life. Hard as he may try, the Senator will never be like Dad. He can’t have his parents, or his wife.
With heavy steps, I climb the stairs to the top floor. I’m not sure what I’m going to find in my suite. Mainly, my biggest fear is that Paloma will ask me to stay away from her again. One night of not touching her was torture. I don’t think I can survive another.
I push the door open slowly and scan the room quickly. Relief washes over me when I don’t see a packed suitcase under the bed—or any other indication that Paloma is determined to leave me. I amble to the bed, then spot her out on the terrace, lost in thought.
“Are you okay?” I ask, stepping out to join her on the veranda.
“I think so.” She turns to me with fear in her eyes. “Are you going to send me away?”
“No.” I cup her face. “Why would you think that?”
“Because.” She swallows. “There’s a chance we’re half-siblings.”
“There is zero chance we’re related. Please take that notion out of your head right now. I don’t know why the Senator lied about who your mother is, but I’m going to find out. I promise.” I wrap my arms around her and sigh in relief when she doesn’t push me away.
“I don’t care, you know.” She glances up at me. “I never want to leave your side. Even if it’s wrong. I don’t care.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” I kiss her lips. “But you don’t have to worry about that. You and I are meant to be.”
“I’m never going to stop wanting you.” She fists my button-down shirt. “Never.”
My heart races when she works through the buttons and slides the shirt off my shoulders. In an instant, the air shifts, and all I can think about is burying my cock deep inside her. She has that effect on me. When she looks at me with so much hunger in her eyes, the world falls away. I should be downstairs helping with the plan for tonight, but instead, I’m here aching to kiss every inch of her.
“Archer.” She sucks gently on my chest, while she slides her hands over my shoulders and abs.
“I’m all yours.” I pick up a strand of her hair.
“I need you.” She walks around me so she’s facing my back.
I tense when her wet lips brush the scar along my left shoulder blade. Letting her touch me is like opening a window to the darkest part of my past. But she’s already seen the worst. What’s wrong with laying down my shield? What’s wrong with losing myself?
Her hand follows the path of the scar down to my lower back. Goosebumps flutter across my arms and belly. God this woman has completely bewitched me. She continues to trace my skin with her fingers and her mouth until she ambles a complete circle around me.
“Paloma.” I hiss when she unbuckles my jeans and stuffs her hand inside.
She pushes me toward the suite. Her golden eyes and the promise I find there are all the seduction I need, as she ushers me back to our bed. Adrenaline rushes hard and furious through me when she frees my erection and drops to her knees to take me in her mouth.
“Fuck.” I fist the hair at the base of her neck to guide her.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.” She looks at me with hooded eyes as her slick tongue teases the tip of my shaft while her hand pumps up and down.
“Feel free to fall to your knees any time you want, Little Dove.” I tighten my hold on her and push my erection past her lips. She’s fucking warm and eager as she takes me to the hilt. It takes all my self-control not to come in her mouth already. “So good. You learn fast, Little Dove.”
She nods and pulls back long enough to pull her black dress over her head. Her tits push through her lacy bra, her taut nipples begging for attention. I reach behind her and snap the closure open. She’s a fucking goddess kneeling like this at my feet. I fondle her breasts, rolling her buds over my finger. I bet she’s wet and ready for me already. But I’m curious about her plan. What else does my little dove want from me?
In the next beat, she pushes me onto the bed and pulls off my jeans and boxer briefs. My cock is in pure agony. I reach over and pull down the front of her underwear. She laughs. A sweet sound that makes my navel tighten painfully.
“Show me your pussy,” I order
She bites her lower lip as if trying to figure out what to do next. After a second, she pulls at the lacy strings, and then, shoves her underwear down. Her pussy lips are swollen with need and her juices shine along her seam.
I lie all the way down. “Sit on my face, Little Dove. Now before I lose what little self-control I have left and just fuck you hard on the floor,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Your face?” She looks confused as she climbs on the bed and sits on my stomach. “But how would you breathe?”
“Let me worry about that.” I slide my hands under her thighs and bring her little cunt to rest on my mouth. Fucking ecstasy.
I kiss her pussy lips until they part for me, giving me access to her clit. A moan escapes her as she falls forward, bracing her hands on the bed. I continue to lick and nibble from her entrance to her bud. After a handful of beats, her legs shake as if she’s about to climax.
I pick her up and set her on my chest. “You had a plan before I interrupted. What was it?”
“Oh.” Her eyes shine bright as pink rises to her cheeks. She looks absolutely delectable when she’s turned on. “I don’t know.”
“What do you want, Little Dove?” I knead her breasts. “Do you want to ride me?”
The greed that flashes in her golden eyes is enough to put me over the edge. I need her now. I grip her by the waist and set her on my shaft. She lets her head fall back, calling my name. When she recovers, she begins to roll her hips into me.
“Just like that,” I mutter, taking handfuls of her ass. “Such a good girl.”
Her walls squeeze tightly around my cock so hard it makes my orgasm teeter on the fringe of fucking oblivion. This is what she does to me. She drives me beyond the point of insanity. I’m standing here at the bleeding edge of a perilous cliff, and all I can think about is that I’m ready to jump when she does.
Fire builds just below my navel. And I can feel it consuming my body inch by inch. It’s always like this, like nothing I’ve ever felt with anyone else before. She braces her hands on my chest and rides me like her life depends on it.
And that’s when I let go. My orgasm burns through me like wildfire. I wrap my arms around her waist and pump hard into her, like a desperate man, riding every wave of pleasure she’s incited in me. I capture her mouth, thrusting my tongue past her lips, as I spill my seed inside her. Her slick walls suck my cock deeper into her, sending me into a kind of frenzy. I want to stay like this, in this bubble of a moment where she’s all mine, body and soul. I want to possess every inch of her and never let her go.
She falls over on top me, sweaty and panting for a breath. “Every time I think it can’t get better, and then, it does.” She laughs and kisses my neck and chest before going limp on top of me.
“I know the feeling.”
Jesus, my family is right. I’m one hundred percent, utterly in love with her.