Chapter 13
Hilary Winthrop
After eating way too much, I lower myself into the passenger seat and wonder how I’m going to stay awake the short drive to the office. Even buckling in requires a level of concentration I’m not sure I possess.
Connor leans over the center console and reaches across me, but with my stomach heavy from food and an inexplicable sadness, instead of shoving him away, I study him up close as he pulls my seatbelt across my chest. Without a word, he lifts my arm, buckles my seatbelt, and settles my wrist in my lap before turning to the wheel.
I don’t understand. I’m getting everything I hoped for.
The contract marriage is solving so many of my problems. Hannah will get her treatment.
I won’t have to part with Aisha and Momo.
All my financial woes are gone forever. Hell, I’m even marrying the man who features in my deepest, darkest fantasies.
So why do I want to scream and cry until my voice gives out? Why does the memory of him, smug and evil, dropping to one knee and asking me to marry him fill me with sorrow?
My lashes droop the second Connor shifts into gear. I turn to look out the passenger window, blink, and wake to roads I don’t expect.
“This isn’t the way to the office,” I mumble.
“We’re not going to the office. Take a nap. We still have a ways to go,” he says.
Even as my eyes close, I ask, “Where are we going?”
“To tell Hannah the good news.”
I nod even though I shouldn’t. There’s a mountain of work at the office and several meetings on his schedule for the afternoon, but I drift into a doze between breaths.
Long fingers skim down my forearm, cover the back of my hand, and slip between my digits with erotic slowness. I shift in my seat. Leather and smoke fill my nostrils. A deep masculine voice rumbles my name.
I don’t want to wake. This dream is yummy.
Connor calls me again. I sigh and lift my hand to my face to check for drool and eye crust before opening my eyes.
His gaze holds a soft wonder I chalk up to my imagination.
“We’re here. Do you need a minute before we go in?”
Who is this, and what has he done to the ruthless bosshole who lorded over my life for eight years?
“No, I—” I stop my knee jerk refusal and squeeze his fingers.
“Yes, I do. I also need to warn you.”
He rubs his thumb over the side of my hand.
“This looks nothing like a hospital, so I’ll be fine,” he says.
I shake my head and shift in my seat to angle my body toward his to relay my seriousness.
“That’s not what I meant. Hannah suffers from a traumatic brain injury. Her memory comes and goes, and sometimes she can’t handle the simplest of things, so she might not even recognize me or understand what we’re telling her. We need to—”
“I’ll follow your lead, my warrior queen,” I vow.
I take a deep breath and give his fingers a final squeeze before dumping his hand off mine. I reach for my door handle but whip around and jab a finger into his chest as unbidden words ramble from my mouth.
“This isn’t a room full of strangers where you can flaunt your money and fix everything.
It’s my,” I turn my finger toward myself and jab my sternum, “sister. My half sister, but blood doesn’t matter.
I watched her being born. I fed her bottles and changed her diapers.
I raised her since my mom couldn’t get out of bed most days.
I took the hits when my stepdad wasn’t satisfied with hurting my mom.
I—” Something deep inside me simultaneously shatters and mends as Connor closes his fist around my hand and yanks it toward his chest.
“Don’t hurt yourself, my warrior queen. Hurt me. Give me all your pain. I can handle it,” he demands.
His words suck the violent fury out of me and fill me with horror despite, or maybe because of, the arousal pulsing in my core.
I shake my head.
“I’m not like my piece of shit stepdad. I still feel guilty for slapping you even though you deserved it,” I admit.
His chuckle vibrates into my knuckles.
“He killed my mom. He almost killed Hannah, too. I wasn’t fast enough, and he flung her into the wall.”
Long fingers frame my face. The concern in his normally cold, ruthless green eyes is too confusing, so I swat his hands away.
“Look, I’ve worked through most of it and gotten professional help, thanks to working for you.” For a moment my mind replays my therapy journey from starting in a small group to finding my own therapist, which was all covered under my employee benefits. “That’s not what this is about,” I huff.
He allows me a moment to collect myself.
“It’s about our performance in front of my sister.
There’s no way to know how she’ll respond to the news, if she even recognizes me.
Sometimes she knows who I am, sometimes she plays along, and other times she can’t handle the fact that I’m much older than the sister she remembers.
So you must listen to Martha, her caregiver, first. She sees her every day.
Then you follow me. No hesitation. No questions. Just do it. Got it?”
He takes my forearm and pulls my hand over the center console.
“Yes, I understand. Are you wearing this monstrosity or not?”
He lifts the ring from the cup holder and hovers it near my fingertip.
“I know you spent a shitload on it, but… I don’t understand how anyone could like this ugly thing,” I gripe.
Not only does he lift his lips in a villainous smile, but his eyes sparkle with mischief as he responds.
“My gladiator goddess can make anything look good. If you hate this one, I’ll buy you the entire jewelry store to find the ring you do like.”
My insides clench. I bite the inside of my cheek and fill my lungs with his rich, smoky-leather scent.
“Put the ring on my finger and let’s go inside before I decide this isn’t a good idea,” I demand.
“As my warrior queen commands.”
My heart skips a beat. Not an ounce of mockery hides in his tone. Full of reverence and devotion, he slips the ring onto my finger, kisses the back of my hand, and exits the vehicle.
Nervousness tightness my chest and itches my palms. I rub my hands against my thighs before grabbing my purse. Connor opens my door. I take his hand and rise.
We check in at the front desk and walk through the brightly painted halls toward my sister’s room. The cheery atmosphere and excellent care record made this facility the best choice, and Hannah’s happy humming filtering down the hall confirms it.
Martha meets us at her door.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead of time,” I apologize.
Martha shakes her head and waves off my apology.
“She’s doing really well today, and you picked a good time, so go on in,” she says.
“Thank you,” I reply.
I tug Connor through the doorway by our linked hands.
Hannah turns as I call out my normal greeting.
The immediate recognition in her eyes when she spots me fills me with relief and adrenaline. She squeals and hops up from her desk.
“Martha, Hilary is here!”
I release Connor and open my arms as I continue deeper into the room. Hannah launches herself at me. I catch and embrace her. She gives the best hugs.
Her hair smells of strawberry conditioner and sunlight.
“I brought someone I want you to meet,” I murmur against her head.
Eager in a way I haven’t seen her in a long time, she pushes out of my arms and turns to Connor.
“Heath! Hilary, you brought Heath! I haven’t seen him in forever.”
Confusion spears through me. She seems so clear headed.
“Hannah, this isn’t—”
“Come closer, Heath, and let me see—”
“Hannah—”
“—those freckles on your—”
“Hannah!”
She flinches at my shout.
I don’t understand the panic tightening my chest or the adrenaline flooding my veins, but the guilt stems from the fear in my baby sister’s eyes.
I haven’t heard the name Heath spoken aloud since the little boy I saved in the orphanage disappeared. Just like how he appeared out of nowhere, one day he was just gone. I was so distraught Aisha and Momo made a pact to never say his name in front of me ever again.
Hannah’s wide eyes shift down. I follow their direction to her hands on Connor’s forearm. Framed by her fingers on the outside of his arm, his freckles form the big dipper.
Time warps. My knees buckle.
Unyielding arms catch me and hold me to a masculine chest. The smell of leather and smoke invades my sinuses. I meet crystal-clear emerald orbs and know the truth.
Connor is Heath.
He knew. All along he knew I was the girl who saved him.
He was never going to tell me.
Hannah’s distress pulls me out of my spiral.
“I’m sorry! I did something wrong. I’m sorry, I—”
I shove Connor—Heath?—away and wrap her in my arms.
“No, honey, you didn’t. Everything is fine. I’m okay. You’re right, this is Heath. He goes by Connor now. We’re getting married. Look at the ring he bought me.”
I can’t stop my disjointed words any more than I can stop the fragmenting of my mind, but I cling to the simple, fake storyline she needs until she believes it.
Her genuine happiness over the lies exacerbates my guilt and morphs my disbelief to fury. She congratulates us with gleeful squealing and jumping before pulling us both into a hug. I glare at my boss slash fake fiancé over her head. He deserves the shock and worry lurking in his eyes.
The bastard was never going to tell me, and now that my sister ratted him out he has no idea how to handle it.
He has no idea how to handle me.
I hold my act together until we make it back to the parking lot.
Fury overrides all else. I yank my hand out of his and push away until I’m out of reach.
“You lied to me,” I accuse.
He opens his mouth, but I’m not done.
“When did you find out? After you hired me? Before you fucked me? Holy shit, this is so fucked up,” I snarl.
He steps toward me. I shuffle back and hit the trunk of the car.
“I didn’t lie to you,” he snarls.
“You changed your name!”
“To protect you.”