CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NATHAN
We’ve barely stepped inside the house when the rain starts to pour. I tamp down my irritation at the sound of the raindrops lashing against the roof of the house, thinking about how it’ll affect our journey back home. Anika, Robert and I are shown to the living room of the mansion by Mr. Simmons who looks exponentially more excited to see us than the last time we’re here.
As soon as we get to the living room though, the old man glances outside the large windows in the corner of the room with a frown.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” he announces, looking towards me. “While I appreciate you coming all the way here and bringing Ms. Cameron along as well, it’s unfortunate that you won’t be able to return today.”
I arch an eyebrow, glancing at Anika whose eyes grow wide. I’m almost sure she’s coming up with some conspiracy theories or maybe she’s got some ideas that he’s going to murder us or something. I wouldn’t put it past her.
“Why not?” I question after a couple of seconds.
“As you say the road here isn’t exactly in good condition. The rain tends to make it worse. There’s been some flooding at times. It could be dangerous, driving back out, especially in the rain.”
My jaw ticks, “And what would you suggest we do if we can’t return home?”
“You can stay here for the night. Wait it out.”
His expression brightens and I briefly wonder if this is all a well plotted ruse of a lonely man seeking company. Anika gently jabs an elbow into the side of my stomach, drawing my attention. I look down at her, my frown deepening at the amused expression on her face.
“At least now that bag I packed makes sense,” she points out.
My eyes narrow, “This isn’t funny.”
“Loosen up, Nathan. It’s just one night and who knows, it might be fun,” she says.
It’s the sound of my name on her lips that has me calming down. It’s only the second time she’s used it in the time I’ve known her. It has a strangely calming effect on me. Like I’d do anything she asked, only if she said my name with that soft, sweet voice.
I wonder how she’s sound moaning it.
Fuck. My mind did not need to wander there. I clear my throat before turning to look at the old man.
“We wouldn’t want to intrude, Mr. Simmons,” I inform him. “Maybe the roads won’t be as precarious as you think?”
Honestly, I’d rather brave the odds and head back home. I promised my daughter I’d always do my best to at least have dinner with her, no matter how busy I was. Not making it back to Edenton tonight would be inconvenient.
Simmons simply shakes his head.
“It’s no intrusion at all. There are several rooms in this house. And there’s food as well. I just have to cook it, although I’m not very good,” he murmurs.
“I’ll cook,” Anika immediately suggests smiling. “I can whip us up a nice dinner. Maybe after you show me your amazing art collection I’ve heard so much about?”
The old man’s gaze softens as he looks at her. I can relate. I don’t think there’s anyone that could possibly be immune to Anika Cameron’s endless grace and charm. Trust me, I’ve tried my hardest to fight it.
I’m glad she seems okay with the present situation, especially since she wouldn’t be here in the first place if I hadn’t asked her for the favor. I turn to look at Robert, quirking an eyebrow and asking wordlessly if this is all fine by him.
He nods once in understanding.
“Okay then,” I murmur, mostly to myself. “I guess we’re spending a night in the haunted house.”
We’re settled in soon enough. Anika’s spent most of the time with Simmons while I’ve spent the past couple of hours, making some calls, the first of which was to my daughter, informing her about my absence. Right now, I’m seated in the living room, going through the stock market and checking on some of our investments.
I might not be working actively with the company at the moment, but I do still like to stay on top of things. I feel a light kick at my feet and when I look up Anika’s staring down at me. Her long dark hair falls down at the sides of her face like a curtain.
“You know you can always just say my name if you want my attention,” I grumble.
“But kicking you is so fun,” she retorts smiling.
I sigh, “What do you want?”
“I need some help with the food. Fancy being my sous chef?”
I stare at her like she’s just shown me evidence that aliens are actually real.
Finally I speak, “I don’t cook, sweetheart.”
“What do you mean? Everyone cooks. It’s literally an important life skill,” she says frowning.
“It’s not a requirement in my life. I’m sure Robert can provide you with assistance if you really need it.”
“No, I want you.”
I ignore the tightening in the pit of my stomach at those words.
“I don’t cook, Anika. Find someone else,” I mutter.
“Robert’s helping Mr. Simmons get the rooms in order. You need to do your part as well.”
“I’ll set the table.”
“Not good enough. Come on, get up,” she says stubbornly.
I groan softly, “You really get off on making me miserable, don’t you?”
She nods eagerly, “It’s fun.”
I rise to my feet, my next words escaping me before I’ve barely had a chance to think about it, “I could get you off some other way if you really wanted it. How about that?”
Anika chokes on air, “What?” she coughs out.
I grin, enjoying the way her cheeks redden. I like making her blush way more than I should.
“I’m joking, sweetheart. Come on, you asked for a sous chef, you’ve got one.”
We both head in the direction of the rarely used but well maintained kitchen. It quickly becomes clear that Anika’s definition of sous chef is just someone that hands her the equipment and ingredients she needs to make the meal. I don’t mind though. I spend most of the time leaning against the wall with my arms crossed as I watch her cook.
Her eyes have a particular glow in them as she moves about the kitchen. It’s not a bad view and we also pick up our conversation from earlier in the car.
“Why is Hamlet your favorite book?” Anika asks curiously after we’ve just finished discussing her multitude of hobbies.
Horse riding, sky diving, hiking, sleeping, lying in bed and binge watching TV shows. It’s pretty clear she’s spent her life either chasing after some adrenaline high or alone in a room. The woman’s definitely an enigma but I already knew that the first time I saw her.
“Actually, Hamlet’s a play not a book, sweetheart,” I correct.
“Okay, smarty pants, and why do you like it?”
I shrug, “Because it’s a tragedy. It’s deeply philosophical, emotionally intense and filled with a lot of themes like revenge, existentialism and family betrayal.”
Basically the foundations of my entire existence , I silently add.
Anika blinks before muttering, “Ah yes, nothing like a good revenge plot, depressing soliloquies and almost everyone dying to really lift your spirits. Who doesn’t love a five act existential crisis?”
I smile, “You’ve read Hamlet?”
“My mom loves Shakespeare. Which I’ve always found weird. She even has a favorite quote of his. She used it in her wedding vows when she got married to my dad. I can’t really remember but it’s from A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”
“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind,” I recite softly.
She nods, “Yeah, that’s it.”
“It’s beautiful. Your mom has good taste.”
“She thought I’d be a writer,” Anika says, her expression nostalgic. “When I was younger I dabbled in everything. I joined the choir, although I was a horrible singer. I was a theatre kid for a while. I also picked up literary writing which made mom really happy. I wrote a couple short stories but they weren’t anything special. Nothing ever really stuck. At least not until I found art. Although I’m not sure about it sticking either.”
“Art is a part of you, Anika. That doesn’t just go away.”
“Yeah well. It’s thanks to my art we’re currently in a possibly haunted mansion about to have an amazing dinner prepared by yours truly,” she announces with a smile before turning around to check the pasta sauce.
“You can go set the table now,” she orders, gesturing out the door.
I roll my eyes, “Anyone ever tell you you’re bossy?”
“I think you’re rubbing off on me.”
My lips tilt up in a smile I don’t let her see, exiting the kitchen to do as she asked. Soon enough, we all sit down to enjoy a truly delicious meal and things wind down from there. We’re shown to our bedrooms for the night and left to our own devices.
I take off my shirt and I’m considering taking off my pants as well to get comfortable when there’s a knock on my door. I know it’s her before I even open it.
“What do you need, sweetheart?” I question as soon as my eyes find brown ones.
Her gaze doesn’t meet mine, instead it trails downward, resting against my chest. She rolls her lips in the most distracting way as she stares, her eyes unfocused. I smirk, letting her stare for as long as she’d like. I’m glad to see that I’m not the only one feeling the obvious tension between us.
After about a minute, I clear my throat to draw her attention. She blinks slowly, looking up at me.
“Hey, I was um- a little bored. I don’t usually sleep this early. So I headed downstairs and Mr. Simmons gave me this,” she announces with a small smile, raising a bottle of whiskey. “You want some?”
I cross my arms, amused. “Trying to get me drunk?”
“Yeah, I want to get you inebriated enough to reveal all those secrets you’ve got hidden.”
I chuckle, “That’s not going to happen and you sound like your brother.”
She nods in agreement, “Carson taught me all his tricks. The first time I tasted alcohol was because he wanted to let my guard down enough so I’d tell him about the guy I was dating. And then he went to threaten the poor guy into breaking up with me.”
I ignore the slight flare of jealousy at the mention of some poor sod that she dated when she was a teenager.
“Maybe I’ll be the one getting you to reveal all your secrets this time,” I point out.
“Care to make this interesting?” she asks, brown eyes gleaming.
“I’m listening.”
“We could play a game. How does truth or dare sound to you?”
“Juvenile,” I drawl.
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
‘That’s your default reply to everything, sweetheart.”
“Everything’s always fun with me,” she says confidently. “So, are you in?”
I briefly consider the ramifications of playing this game with her. It’s effectively playing with fire and unlike our little game earlier with the light hearted questions to get to know each other better, this one feels much more likely to cause a lot of problems.
But she’s standing right here and a part of me is curious. I want to see where this could go. I move away from the doorway, gesturing for her to walk into the room. Then I realize I never considered one other ramification.
My gaze drops to her pert ass in the shorts she’s changed into, the slight sway is enough to make me bite down on my lips to prevent a soft groan from escaping.
This is definitely going to be interesting.
Anika and I settle down on the bed in the room. I’m seated against the headboard and she’s opposite me, the bottle of whiskey and one glass cup between us.
“I would have brought another glass but a part of me wasn’t expecting you to agree to this,” she explains. “You’re fine with sharing though?”
“Sure, sweetheart,” I reply.
She pours some whiskey into the glass, taking a swig and wincing slightly as it passes down her throat. Once she’s done, she hands me some as well, which I gulp down effortlessly.
“Truth or dare, Nathan?” she asks.
“Truth,” I answer easily.
She’s unsurprised by my answer, “Have you ever been in love?”
We’re diving right into it, I see. The question doesn’t really faze me and I barely have to consider it before I reply.
“No, I haven’t.” Her eyes widen. “Your turn, sweetheart. Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” she mumbles.
“How many boyfriends have you had?”
Her lips part slightly. She swallows before replying, “Two.”
That would have been hard to believe. If I hadn’t witnessed firsthand the dynamics of one of those relationships almost two years ago.
I pour myself another glass of the whiskey gulping it down before passing it back to her.
“Your turn, sweetheart,” I prompt. “I choose truth.”
“How come you’ve never been in love?” she questions.
“Love isn’t for everyone,” I say simply. “I’ve only ever been capable of one form of love in my life and that’s the unconditional one I feel for Kara. My daughter is the most important thing in the world to me. Romantic love however feels like a fantasy.”
Anika’s eyes are soft as she looks at me, “You don’t really believe you’re incapable of love, do you?”
“It’s not that I’m incapable. I’m not a robot, sweetheart. I just don’t think it’s worth it. I’ve never willingly put myself in a position to care that much about anyone else because I fully believe it’ll ultimately lead to pain.”
“Why though?” she questions softly. “Why do you think that?”
My jaw tightens and I huff out a breath.
“You already had your turn, sweetheart. Your turn. Truth or dare?”
Her eyes peer at me, like she can tell she’s not going to like my next question.
“Truth,” she whispers.
“Where’s the asshole from the wedding?”
She frowns, “What?”
“You know who I’m talking about, Anika. Your ex-boyfriend, where is he?”
“I don’t know,” she murmurs, lips pressing together. “I haven’t seen him in a while. Last I heard he was on some kind of tour around the country with his band.”
I snort. Of course he’s in a band. Anika’s a beautiful woman, strong, smart, but she’s got questionable taste in men.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she says on a sigh, lying face up on the bed. “Why was I with him in the first place? Do you know how many times I’ve been asked that question? It honestly felt like no one really agreed with our relationship. I think it’s one of the reasons we lasted that long because everyone was so against it, it made me feel like I had something to prove. At some point I was only holding on because of sheer stubbornness.”
“Tell me about him,” I prompt, glad that she’s opening up on her own.
The whiskey must be helping a lot on that front.
“Edward and I met in high school. In my senior year. He was like the embodiment of everything I wasn’t. He liked to listen to rock metal bands, emo music, he drove a motorcycle. But he wasn’t like the cliché bad boy who smoked or got in trouble. It was all a front for how hurt he was. I’ve always liked broken things or in his case, broken people. My mom likes to say I have so much empathy in my tiny heart. I got it from my dad. Emilia did too,” she says with a soft smile.
Her eyes have a faraway look in them for a moment, like she’s thinking about some distant memory.
“Anyway, Edward and I first met when we were paired for a group project. I found out he was going through a lot with his family. He was in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I thought I could help if I just became a source of light in his life, a means to take away all of that pain.”
My jaw tightens, “You’re not a sponge, Anika. If you took away all his darkness, what did you have left of yourself?”
She looks at me sharply at that, her eyes widening. Which is how I know I was spot on with that assessment.
“Edward wasn’t all bad,” she mutters. “We were together for almost seven years and things were good. He was supportive in the start. He encouraged me to be me. Then eventually, he started making me feel like I was too much. I worked so hard to protect that relationship. And he never appreciated my efforts.”
“He killed your spirit,” I say quietly, feeling my chest ache.
Her story reminds me of someone else.
Your father loves me, Nathan. He just doesn’t love every part of me.
I shift forward on the bed, drawing closer to her.
“Hey, look at me sweetheart,” I prompt, placing my fingers against her cheek. She feels soft against my touch, utterly breakable and that scares me. Because the last thing I want to do is break her. Our breaths are the only sound available in the room. The air around us feels charged, like we’re waiting for the fallout of something.
“Nathan,” she breathes, reminding me that I had something to say.
I exhale gently, “You deserve every single beautiful thing your heart desires, sweetheart. All the love the world has to offer and I hate that you let him tell you different.”
“Don’t worry,” she murmurs. “I woke up and kicked him in the balls eventually. And then I kicked him out of my life for good.”
“Atta girl,” I whisper, feeling my heart start to pound.
Anika’s eyes regard me with intensity. Like she’s trying to see into my head, to read my thoughts. And a part of me wants to share them all with her. Every single one and I would, if I didn’t think about the consequences of putting that amount of faith and trust in one person, only to regret it in the end.
I clear my throat, breaking the moment and shifting backwards.
“Okay, whose turn is it next?” I ask, pouring myself some whiskey.
“My turn to ask you,” Anika replies, but she’s still staring at me with that penetrating gaze.
“Go on, sweetheart.”
“Why is the art exhibition so important to you? Why do you care about getting every single piece of the Phantom collection?”
I pause, my eyebrow arching. I really hadn’t been expecting that question.
“They’re paintings guaranteed to draw in a huge crowd and generate a lot of money, Anika. It’s nothing special,” I lie.
Her eyes narrow, “I don’t believe you.”
“Well, that’s too bad, sweetheart. It’s getting late anyway. You should be heading back to your room.”
She rolls her eyes, “I poured my heart out to you about Edward and you can’t answer one question?”
The question’s going to open up a can of worms I have no interest in delving into.
“I answered you, Anika,” I tell her.
She scoffs, “Fine. I’ll leave.”
I watch as she stands to her feet. But I guess the alcohol chose that exact moment to hit her because she’s stumbling in the next breath, nearly falling back on the bed. I get up quickly as well, wrapping a hand around her waist to steady her.
“Hey, easy,” I murmur.
Her lips turn up in a small smile, “You know you’re very good at giving mixed signals? One minute you’re an asshole I can’t stand, the next you’re like Prince Charming, riding in to save the day.”
“Trust me, sweetheart. I’m not a Prince Charming.”
“I know,” she whispers softly. “You’re a dark knight tinted with pain and heartbreak.”
I frown, wondering at that description. Her eyes seem much bigger up close. It’s amazing how much they draw me in.
We stand there for several moments, with my hands around her, itching to move, to explore the way her body feels against me. I count each breath I take, trying not to lose control. The last thing I need is to go all caveman on her.
“Nathan,” Anika calls softly. Have I mentioned I love it when she says my name? It’s like I’m a teenager with butterflies in my stomach. “I take back the question about the exhibition.”
“What?” I say, gruffly, confused.
“I’m taking back the question and I want you to change what you chose earlier,” she murmurs, “Choose dare.”
My eyes widen as the implications of her words hit me. But I’m also intrigued. Itching for where she’ll take this.
“Okay. I choose dare, sweetheart.”
She smiles and I feel a hollowness in my chest begging desperately to be filled, “I dare you to kiss me.”
She doesn’t even have to say it twice. Our gazes connect, electricity crackling between us. One, two, three, four, five. That’s number of times my heart beats before I crash my lips down on hers. And deep down I know, that neither of us will ever be the same again after this.