Chapter 22
Lily
When I arrive home after what has to be the most eventful business trip of my entire life, I feel strangely empowered.
In recent months, I’d let Connor use me for his own advantage, and I hadn’t put up a fight.
I’d let Shade invade my privacy while he kept impenetrable walls around his.
I’d let these men treat me however they wished without consequence.
And even though Connor has paid the price for his duplicity, it was Shade who meted out the punishment.
I was a bystander in my own life, and I was even prepared to let Shade get away with his questionable behavior.
I’d literally dropped to my knees in the lodge and begged him to treat me however he liked, despite the liberties he’d already taken.
Discovering Shade had listened to my voicemails had finally brought me to my senses, but a part of me didn’t want to let him go when he kissed me in the motel parking lot. I might have given in too if he hadn’t already made his fatal error.
When Shade had caught the motel key, he made a remark about not letting anything slip through his fingers unless he was willing to let it go.
That got me thinking about the day we’d met.
He’d dropped his car keys after forcing me to a stop on the exit ramp.
I stupidly thought I’d intimidated him, but it was a move he’d expertly choreographed.
After pulling over for a comfort break on my way back to Chicago, I’d found the tracker exactly where I knew it would be. That’s how he’d found me yesterday even though I’d switched off my cell phone.
Closing my front door, I heave a sigh as I turn the newly installed locking mechanism that may not keep all intruders out.
What now?
Do I follow through with my threat and tell Shade our game is over? Do I give him an ultimatum? Do I insist we stick to the normal rules of society, or else we end things? Is that what I want? Am I ready to walk away if he can’t give me that?
As I take my overnight bag into my bedroom and start to unpack, I tell myself I’m an intelligent, independent woman and I can live without my shadow. I keep to that mantra until I reach the bottom of my bag and pull out a crumpled t-shirt. Shade’s t-shirt. The one I’d been wearing last night.
As I unfurl it, two sets of underwear fall onto my bed.
There’s the red lace set Shade had peeled off me in front of the fire last night, and the black silk set I’d been wearing this morning when he’d dripped melting snow over my skin.
They’re still damp. I didn’t pack these.
Shade must have slipped them into my bag while I was in the bathroom just before we left.
My resolve wobbles as I strip down to my underwear and slip on his t-shirt, but the tears only start to fall when I remember what had been the catalyst to our latest argument. Rubin died and I didn’t even know.
I hadn’t seen my dog for two years, and I wonder if he still remembered me.
I wonder if he missed me. I didn’t get to say goodbye to him, just like I never got to say goodbye to Luke.
Fear wraps its fist around my heart. What would I do if something happened to Mom or Dad without me ever speaking to them again?
I curl up in bed and stay there for the rest of the day.
Kaitlyn thinks I’m still at the lodge with my mystery man, so I’m not disturbed as Saturday slips into Sunday.
It’s one of the days my mom usually tries to call me, and after making a half-hearted attempt to eat some breakfast, I realize I’m waiting for her call. And I might just answer.
After making a coffee, I try to recapture that initial feeling of empowerment from yesterday.
I’d been almost euphoric when I’d located the tracker on my car and turned to give Shade the finger.
I knew there’d be a good chance he’d check security cameras once he worked out he was tracking the wrong car, and I wonder if he’s seen it yet.
Taking control felt good. I should do it again. I don’t have to wait for Mom to call.
Picking up my cell, I dial her number. She picks up before the second ring.
“Lily?”
I can hear the vibration of her racing heart in her rapid breaths.
“Hi, Mom.”
Her sobs are loud and gut-wrenching, and soon we’re both sobbing. She tries to say something, but she can’t get the words out. I try to speak and fail too. After an excruciating length of time, there’s the sound of shuffling and another voice comes on the line.
“Hello? Who is this?” my dad demands.
He can’t have been in the room when Mom answered, and his voice is twisted with anguish. They’ve been waiting for a call, and I wonder if he thinks this is the one they’d been dreading – a repeat of the one they got the night Luke died.
My stomach hollows, and I use all my strength to swallow the next sob. “It’s me, Dad,” I say. “I’m fine… Well, I’m as fine as a mean and heartless daughter can be.” I gasp a breath. “I’m so sorry for keeping away. Do you hate me? Does Mom hate me?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, his words choppy, but I sense a trembling smile. “We don’t hate you. We love you so much. We’ve been longing for this day.”
“Tell Lily I’m sorry,” my mom says to Dad. “Tell her I didn’t mean those awful things. I don’t blame her. We could have offered to pick Luke up. We could have stopped him going out and drinking so much. We could have done so many… so many things differently.”
“I switched to speaker phone,” he tells her softly. “She’s listening.”
“I heard you, Mom,” I confirm as I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. “Luke made a bad decision that night, and he paid for it with his life. He wouldn’t want us to blame each other.”
“He wouldn’t,” she agrees. “And I’m so sorry for hurting you.”
“I’m sorry too, and I just want…” I have to swallow hard. “I want my mom.”
My return to the office is surreal. Connor’s name is mud, and Walter Royston is acting like he’s the one that’s been wronged. He tells me it’s my lucky day, and that I’ve been practically gifted a second chance to prove myself.
“If I didn’t have bills to pay, the bastard would have two vacancies,” I tell Kaitlyn when we meet for a synchronized coffee break.
“Fuck him,” she mutters. “You should ask Shade if he knows any billionaires who need a capable accountant to count their money.”
My friend has adopted the name I’ve given Shade, although she’s under the misapprehension that it is his actual name. I’m too embarrassed to put her right, which is another reminder that this arrangement of ours has to end.
“Maybe the Moncriefs have an opening,” Kaitlyn continues, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“And once you’re there, you could put in a good word for me too.
Imagine the perks I’d get as one of their personal assistants.
Forget sneaking into clubs, they have hotels all over the world.
We could work anywhere. Europe maybe? Is Scotland as windy as Chicago? ”
“I’d prefer to stay closer to home,” I say, refusing to be carried off on my friend’s flight of fancy.
Kaitlyn eyes me over her mug. She knows whenever I talk of home, I don’t mean Chicago. “As in home?”
I nod, my vision wobbling. “I spoke to Mom and Dad yesterday. It’s early days, but I’ve promised I’ll go back for a visit at Christmas. We’re going to keep talking in the meantime, so hopefully by then, we’ll have smoothed over the awkwardness.”
It also gives me time to figure out where I stand with Shade before giving my parents the chance to cross examine me about my love life. The way I see it, either I’ll have moved on, or I’ll drag him along to meet them. Both of those scenarios terrify me.
“I’m proud of you, Lily,” Kaitlyn says. “This is progress. And long may it continue.”
Her words must be some form of cruel jinx, because when I arrive home later that evening, progress is not what awaits me.
I don’t notice anything amiss until I go into my bedroom to find a green velvet dress laid out on my bed. It’s the one I’d left back at the lodge. I’d been dying to try it on the moment I’d seen it in the closet, but events had overtaken me.
There’s a cream envelope sitting on top of the dress. It has my name on it and the handwriting isn’t the best. Whoever wrote it is better with his keyboard skills.
My jaw aches as I try to contain my conflicting emotions. After everything I’d said to him, Shade has sneaked into my apartment and stepped over the line – again.
I fold my arms across my chest and turn away so I’m facing the door. I literally cannot look at what he’s left for me to find. Assuming he has left.
My eyes dart to my closed closet door. “If you’re still here, Shade, I should warn you that this latest stunt has royally backfired. I don’t care what your intentions are, or what’s in that damn envelope.” I curl my hand into a fist. “I want so badly to punch you right now!”
My chest heaves, and when I get no response, I leave my bedroom and head straight for the refrigerator. There should be a bottle of white wine in there, but when I yank open the door, it’s the stack of chocolate bars I see first. Salted caramel, as if it would be any other kind.
“I swear, I might just kill you,” I say, reaching for the first bar.
I snap a whole row of chocolate squares and shove it in my mouth. I’m tempted to refuse all his little gifts, but my need for chocolate overrides my anger.
When I pour my wine, I still have a mouthful of chocolate, so I take my glass with me to my bedroom. I’m not about to be swayed by whatever’s in the envelope, but I can hardly tear it to shreds without checking its contents first.
From the way it feels, there’s a piece of card inside rather than folded paper. That means it’s not a letter setting out Shade’s heartfelt apology and clear intentions, which would have been my first choice. I swallow the chocolate and take a gulp of wine as extra fortification.
“You still want to play?” I mutter under my breath as I tear open the envelope.
The invitation is printed on colored card that sits somewhere between red and orange on the color palette. The embossed lettering is in black and gold, and I don’t need to see the logo to know where it’s from. I’m more than familiar with Heatrush’s branding.
Not only am I invited to the club this coming Saturday, but the invitation gives me access to the VIP area. Just me, I note. This golden ticket admits one. It’s a summons.
If I’m being allowed into the VIP area, it must surely mean I’ll meet people who, unlike me, will know Shade.
Is he going to make it easy for me to discover his name?
Or does he have the power to silence everyone in the same way he’s done with the staff who work there?
Is this another turn in our twisted game?
I take another gulp of wine. I could go. I could find out what he wants, and more importantly, I could set out my own demands. But he’s just broken into my apartment again, and I can’t let that go. Accepting the invitation would only reinforce his misconception that I’m OK with this.
I’m not. How can I be? This isn’t normal.
I pick up the dress and hold it against me. It has an off-the shoulder neckline and falls to just above my knee. It is beautiful, and when I try it on, it accentuates all my curves. “Looks like I’m going out on Saturday,” I say to myself.
But I’m not going to fall into the trap of doing what Shade expects. He needs to be taught a lesson.