CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
TRAVIS
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Stepping off the jet, I take Brook’s hand and walk down the steps. At the bottom, my car has been delivered as requested, and the engine is running, waiting for us.
Around us, our bags are being unloaded and put in the trunk. We’ve already done all the customs paperwork on board the jet, so we will soon be on the road.
“Decker will be back in the morning,” I tell her, stopping by the passenger side while Brook tosses her handbag in and stretches.
“I’m so over sitting. It’s a long flight.”
“Eight hours,” I reply, glancing at my watch.
Honestly, I was in no hurry. It might be late in the evening here in New York—later in Riffelalp —but the thought of dropping Brook home and sleeping alone tonight is extremely unappealing.
I don’t want to walk away from her, and this isn’t just about the story.
How she discovered my records were sealed, I don’t know. It’s getting a little too close to home. Which is exactly why I paid a fuckton of money to have them sealed in the first place.
It unnerved me for a while, but I’ve calmed down.
“All ready to go, sir.”
“Thank you,” I say, patting Brook’s bottom, indicating she should climb into the Maserati.
“You like doing that, don’t you?” She purrs against my chest when she turns and smiles up at me.
“It’s my favorite new pastime,” I reply, then kiss her. “After licking your dripping wet pussy.”
She blushes, glances at the team around us, and climbs into the car with a shake of her head.
Well, she asked!
We hit the road, and it’s a quiet drive back toward Manhattan. The stereo is on low, the traffic light—for New York City—and I’m wondering if she’s feeling the same as I am.
“Thank you for coming away this weekend.” I lift her hand and kiss the back of it.
“It was amazing,” she whispers while my eyes remain on the road. “I feel very spoiled.”
Fuck, if she were really mine, I’d show her what being spoiled really looks like. I’d buy her everything she dreamed of. Make all her wishes come true.
Destroy armies to make sure she was safe.
What the fuck?
We creep closer to the Brooklyn Bridge, and an idea comes to me. I squeeze her hand. “Stay with me.”
“What?”
“Come home with me tonight and stay. For a few days. Fuck, a week.” I glance at her quickly.
“Trav.”
“Don’t overthink it. Say yes. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and have to deal with my erection alone.”
“Romantic.” She lets out a small laugh.
I grin and squeeze her hand again. “I mean it, Brook. I am not ready to say goodbye.”
I give her space to answer.
“I can’t leave Luna on her own.”
“Who the fuck is Luna?” I frown.
“My cat. My Ragdoll. You’ve met her.”
A Ragdoll? I don’t know what that is, but I glance back at her. Jesus, a cat . It won’t di—even I know if I voice that thought the answer will be a firm no.
“Fine. Bring the cat.”
“No, that’s almost moving in.”
“Trust me, it’s not. I’ll kick you out.” I shoot her a smile, then get my eyes back on the road. “Just stay a week. Next Sunday I’ll drop you home, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”
“We keep saying that,” she mumbles.
“Say yes, Brooklyn,” I order, my smile gone.
I am not taking no for an answer, and if she’s paid any attention to me since we met, she’ll know that by now.
She bites her lip, glances at me a few times, then nods.
“Okay.”
I smile, staring out at the city as it gets closer, and wonder if it’s always looked this stunning. Or if I’m looking at the world differently now she’s in it?
Jesus, I’m turning into a Hallmark greeting card.
My phone rings, and Mama’s name appears on the display. I curse, remembering the late hour. It’s unusual for her to call late.
“ Mama , why are you awake so late—?”
“Travis. Travis!” Elena, her youngest daughter, cries into the phone. “It’s Mama. She’s collapsed.”
Fuck!
“What happened, Elena? Have you called 911?” I demand as my foot comes off the gas, my body tenses.
“Yes, but you need to come. Please can you come over? Please. I’m scared.”
I spin the car around, barely looking, and floor it. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Eight. Just hang in there.”
Elena hangs up.
“Sorry, this is an emergency.” I glance at Brook, who is staring at me with big eyes, clinging to the door handle.
I can’t exactly drop her by the side of the road.
Taking her to Mama’s isn’t exactly ideal but—
“I thought your mom was dead.”
Ah...s hit.
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I LEAP OUT of the car and run up the path shouting, “Stay in the car,” to Brooklyn.
She doesn’t. As I expected, but I don’t have time to piece this together. Mama has had heart problems for the past few years, and if this is it, then nothing will stop me from being with her.
Nothing.
The door is open, so I run straight in.
“Elena! Mama!”
“In here!” Elena calls out, and I find them in the kitchen. Mama is lying on the floor with Elena kneeling beside her, tears pouring down her face.
She looks up at me hopelessly.
“It’s okay.” I put a hand on Elena’s shoulder. She’s in her mid-twenties, but I’ll always see her as the young girl she was when we met. “It’s okay.”
I take in Mama’s gray face. Her mouth is moving, her head tipping from side to side.
“Mama,” I whisper. “Can you hear me? Sofia.”
Her eyes open, her hand tries to lift to my face. “My boy.”
Thank fuck.
I take her hand and put it against my cheek.
“Call the others,” I say to Elena, and she climbs to her feet and starts dialing the numbers of her siblings.
Mama coughs, and I don’t fucking know if I should sit her up or not.
“What happened?” I ask as the ambulance sirens sound outside.
They’re close.
“I fell.” She forces out, blinking at me, then focuses on something behind me with a wonky smile.
I twist around and find Brook leaning against the wall with worry on her face. But she’s confused, and this is where things get blurry. She’s going to ask questions after this that I can’t answer. Not without telling her more lies.
“It’s her.” Mama coughs. “It’s the girl.”
Okay, she’s clearly out of it.
“Mama, tell me how you feel. How many fingers am I hol—”
“She’s going to destroy your daddy, Terrance.” Mama grins as the bottom falls out of my stomach. “He can’t hurt you anymore, my darling boy,”
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
“What did she say?” Brook gasps, pushing away from the wall.
I know she heard.
She heard every single word and will be piecing it together.
It’s over.
My entire plan.
The paramedics come flying in, Elena updating them on what happened as I touch Mama’s cheek and kiss her forehead. “I’ll meet you at the hospital, Mama.”
“My boy,” she says as I pull away and give the medical team space.
When I turn, Brooklyn looks pale, her bright blue eyes filled with the words, how dare you. Which I deserve.
I climb to my feet, and her eyes snap to mine. Then she turns and walks out of the house.
“Brook! Wait.”
I go after her, but I already know how this is going to end. A woman like her doesn’t give second chances, and frankly, I don’t deserve one.
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brOOKLYN
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Striding out of the house, I hit the path, spotting the ambulance parked in the drive with its lights flashing.
It feels inappropriate to be worried about being deceived while someone’s life was almost taken. And yet.
“Brook!”
I spin. “You lied. You lied to me this entire time.”
“Yes,” Travis says, his face dropping momentarily, but then his arrogance returns, and he looks me in the eye. “Let me explain.”
I laugh darkly.
Is he for real? Conversation after conversation comes flooding back. I’m seething.
He’s Terrance!
He’s Leo Taylor’s son?
Why lie? Why are his records so carefully hidden?
Is he dangerous?
Jesus, I went away with a man who has a secret identity. The son of the man I’m publicly accusing of sexual assault.
I slept with him!
Fuck, I can’t think straight. My brain is going to dark and worrying places.
I being to shake.
“Get away from me. I don’t know who you are or what you think you are doing, but the game is up.”
I stomp off, pulling my phone out as I search for my Uber app. Where the fuck is that goddamn—
Travis grabs my arm and spins me around.
“Brook, please.”
“Get your hands off me or I will sue your fucking ass for every cent you have.”
He gives me a really look but releases me.
“Fine. I get it, you need to cool off.”
“Jesus can you be more condescending?”
I find the app, punch my finger onto the glass and order a six-person luxury vehicle because that’s the best I can do right now.
My hands are shaking.
Fury is pouring through me.
I don’t care about the story.
I will, but right now I’m so damn angry with myself for not listening to that little voice. For believing a man who clearly orchestrated a meeting with me at Midnight’s Bar and pushed his way into my life.
Of course, I was going to find him attractive. He’s sexy and wealthy and successful. Any day of the week he could have any woman he wanted.
The sex club.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Is this some sordid family shit?
All this time I thought it was a mutual attraction and that there might be something real brewing. When he sat across the table from me, the candle flickering between us, that he’d done this because I was special.
When he sent me flowers, it was because, little by little, he was hoping to weaken my no-dating rule, and maybe his own, and this would maybe possibly lead to something else.
That taking me fucking Switzerland wasn’t something he did because it was chump-change for the motherfucking billionaire but because he was trying to impress me.
That he wanted to spend a weekend with me, hiking through the gorgeous hills and sitting by the lake licking that dumb ice cream.
Kissing me as if I was the love of his life.
Or might be.
That when he made love to me last night, the moon shining over our bodies, and he slid his hand behind my neck and said, fuck you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and my heart stuttered, it was real.
But it wasn’t.
None of it was real.
He’s not real.
His name isn’t Travis. It’s Terrance.
Terrance fucking Taylor.
Liar.
“I didn’t mean to be condescending. I just want the opportunity to explain. Stop looking at me like I’m some psychopath, Brook!”
“Aren’t you?”
“Fuck you.” He spins around, then back. “Fine. I lied. Maybe it was wrong. But give me a few minutes to explain and then decide.”
“I left the damn country with a man who is not who he said he was.” I stomp away.
“Bullshit. I am Travis Warner.”
“Leo Taylor's son.” I cross my arms.
“Not anymore.
“It doesn’t work like that, and it is relevant to me given I’m doing a story on him. A—in your words—dangerous story. Do you not think I deserved to know?”
“No.”
“Ugh.” I throw my arms up. “Just go. Go back and see your mama . Which is also a lie. Lying about your dead parents. Jesus.”
I stare at the little car on my phone screen, willing it to speed up.
“Brook,” he demands, and I look up because that’s how I react to his dominant voice. “At least do me one favor. Do not reveal who I am.”
Fuck you.
Fuck him and all his lies and money and...ugh. Tears prickle my eyes, and I storm off.
“Follow me, and I’ll call 911!”
“Jesus Christ, Brook. You’re not giving me a chance!” Travis growls.
My brows shoot to my hairline. He did not just say that.
I spin around, now at least twenty feet away, and using my phone, point at him.
“You had more of a chance with me than any man has for a long damn time. What you chose to do with it was up to you. Now live with your consequences.” I yell back, then mutter. “Mother-goddamn-fucker.”
At least he didn’t hurt me. God, I shudder at all the things that could have happened.
But they didn’t.
Shut up brain.
The Uber pulls up beside me. I glance back at Travis, searching for the words to say. A suitable goodbye. His hands are on his hips and there appears to be regret in his eyes.
For what? Whatever he was using me for...
I shake my head and climb into the back of the Uber.
Never again. I am done with men.
I’m getting ten more cats.