Laiken

“I'm guessing your dad didn't wake up one day and just decide to open a bank.”

We're sitting in the library. He looks out of place, like the chair is too small for him. When he was a teenager, he could have fit three of himself there and had room to spare.

“My grandfather started it, not Dad,” he says. “He built it from scratch. It was amazingly hard work, I imagine. Tech has made everything easier.” He considers me, suddenly curious. “Did you ever learn what Joseph did for my father?”

Playing with my braid, I nod. “System hacking. He explained it before I really understood. I had to research it myself to grasp the details.”

He lifts his eyebrows. “You researched it?”

“Don't act so shocked. You were the one who impressed on me how little I knew about modern things.” I wave my fingers in a set of air-quotes. “With all these books, and all my free time, I did what I had to.”

What I don't say is how I clung desperately to his instructions, because they'd come from him. I'd trusted Dominic. I'd believed his every word. If he thought I had to read about computers or social events or dinner etiquette, than I did it. Sometimes regretfully, but I never left a book unfinished.

His full lips push together then go soft. I stare too hard—I'm eager to see any hint of something soft about his existence. “You know what hacking means,” he says. “Did you know the extent of how he utilized it for Silas?”

I squeeze my hair. “Not exactly. But I don't need to. I just want to get the ins and outs of the basic—”

“He stole information.” Dominic sounds like a dragon purring. “Anyone that they could blackmail, they did. Anyone they could manipulate, they did. If there was a rival bank handling foreign transactions, your father leaked their clients' info until that company shut down for sloppy security. What he did gave Silas a shortcut from the middle to the top.” Hunching forward, he sneers. “You can't replicate that.”

His deluge of info throws me off. I knew that my dad was doing questionable stuff, bad enough that he couldn't go to the police for help, but this... this is insane. “He really blackmailed people?” I ask.

“Silas did the blackmailing, Joseph provided the ammunition. Neither of them has clean hands.” He pushes his muscled shoulders up. “It's not uncommon to do most of your deals in the shadows. It's modern day assassination.”

“My dad didn't kill anyone,” I snap. “He's not a damn murderer.”

Dominic avoids my eyes. His fingers spread on the table, the tips white as he presses them against the wood. “You're confident he wasn't responsible for anyone's deaths? Imagine an investor balancing on the edge of ruin. Your dad's tricks destroy his savings, his spirit, and his life. His wife leaves him. His family turns their backs. Is it hard to picture someone brought so low ending their own life?” The whole time he's talking, he's putting his weight on the table. I can't look away. I'm holding my breath, my lungs warning me to quit it and provide some oxygen.

Of course I can see the awful picture he's painted.

But I don't want to.

The burning shifts upwards, attacking my eyes until wetness builds. I barely keep the tears at bay. My head is full of images—my father and mother laughing, my brother asleep, my sister chasing me in the woods. I've been brought low. I know how devastating it is to lose it all. But to take my own life, I don't know if I could. Wouldn't everyone I love be terribly sad?

I start to shake; I hug myself to stop it. “Do you think my family is okay?”

Dominic puts his hands on the chair's arms. “Don't waste time worrying about them. Worry about yourself.”

A helpless smile crawls over my face. I sniffle knowing a single drop of water has run down my cheek. “My heart's big enough to do both.”

He fixates on me, noticing how upset I am. I wish I could hide it better but everything he says is true, and all of it is horrific. I can't meet his stare; I look at my feet under the table.

His chair scrapes, as if he's about to stand. My pulse speeds up as I think about him circling the table to comfort me, to curl me in his solid arms and hold me. I haven't been held like that since I was small. Suddenly I'm desperate for it, even from him.

Dominic doesn't rise to his feet. He balls his hands on the table, inching them towards me. He could reach if he stretched even a little. He doesn't. “Your heart can't help you get home,” he whispers solemnly.

A surprised laugh erupts from me. Wiping my eyes, I smile at him with all my teeth showing. “You're right. I'll need my brain if I want to get back there.” Home. Hearing the word gives me new strength.

His hands remain on the table. I'm close enough to them to see that, for as rough as he acts, his skin looks smooth. Like polished stone. Before I think it over, curiosity controls me. I place my fingertips on the back of his left hand.

Static weaves through my skin. Dominic sucks in a wild breath, wrenching away from me. He's wide-eyed, his nostrils flared, his lips twisting into a silent gasp. “What the hell are you trying to do?”

I shake my head over and over until I'm disoriented. “Sorry, I just—wanted to see how your hands felt.” Admitting it makes my skin boil. I bite my lip, digging my nails into my palms. Fuck, that was weird. I'm weird. What was I thinking?

Wrapping his chiseled arms over his chest, he keeps watching me. “Let's get back to work.”

“Yes, okay. Right.” Taking a deep breath, I sigh. “I'm not a hacker like my dad. But you went to school for programming, right?”

“I can't do what Joseph did. Not even close.”

“Well, what the hell did Silas do before he roped my dad in? You said your grandfather started the company, no way he was a hacker.”

“No. He was in the Korean war, a sergeant.” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “Things were... different then. Old school handshake deals made over whiskey in a bar, or at private events.”

Private events? I scan my brain, digging through all the books I've inhaled over the years. “You guys have a ballroom here,” I say, my voice growing more excited. “Your mom has forced me to parade around in it before with your dad's co-workers. Why don't we host a party, a huge event, like your grandfather would have?”

He frowns to his full capacity. “There's a reason the company didn't transform from middling to an empire until Joseph. Tech sabotage is powerful. A tray of champagne glasses and polite conversation won't grow Bradley Banks.”

“We don't have to escalate the company's growth! Just stall its decline.” I nod to myself, consumed by the idea. “It could work. People meeting, talking, drinking until they agree to bring their business into your dad's hands.” I jump to my feet, hurrying over to a shelf of books. I don't check to see if he follows me. I'm possessed by hope...

by the memory of a perfect cabin.

My home.

“Like this,” I say, yanking down a pine-green book. I flip through it as the scent of paper fills my nose. Inside are drawings of women in grand dresses, men half-bowing in dark suits. “It can be as simple as this, Dominic. It could...”

My eyes flick upwards. He's standing over me between the rows of shelves containing thousands of novels. This place is always quiet but right now it's bottom-of-a-lake deafening.

There's something in his eyes that takes me a moment to place. I haven't spent much time around guys my own age, but I'm not naïve. I never needed someone to explain what hormones are, or what sex is. I had a hazy idea when I was twelve. The books in this room filled in the details. Beyond that, my own body was a wonderful teacher. I'm acquainted with the demanding throb between my thighs.

I feel it now as Dominic watches me.

He looks me up and down, reminding me of the way he stared as we hovered by his car yesterday. That single moment feels so long ago. “When I first met you, you were so resistant to the idea of learning about things like this. And now, you've managed to sit down and figure out a solution before I could,” he says.

The glow in his eyes is admiration. He respects that I've spent years learning whatever I could, all because of his initial advice. I'm pulled in by a peek at the boy that I remember. The enthusiasm in his face mirrors what he had when he was a teen. Before time and suffering and who knows what else transformed him into the man in front of me.

It's the first time he's really spoken about our past. As I step closer, my hair brushes my lower back. It sparks a thought. “Dominic,” I whisper. “Do you remember saving me?”

He breathes faster. His obsidian pupils shoot to my braid, then back to me. Right then, my soul lightens. I'm sure he hasn't forgotten but I want him to say it. It would be easy to answer me, so what's holding him back?

“Something's happened to you,” I say, reaching up to touch his jaw. Tension forms at the corners of his eyes. My hand freezes in midair—I'm anxious to touch him, worried it will shatter the moment. I think of myself as wild but it's Dominic who's acting like an animal ready to bolt. “You don't have to tell me everything, but please, I need to know.”

He opens his mouth; I think he's going to answer my questions, remove this false but terrifying mask he's been wearing. He cups my shoulders, his grip as present as gravity.

Then he kisses me.

I always dreamed my first would be with Dominic. It took me sometime after he left to recognize my young, slowly growing feelings for him were more than friendship. He became a fantasy to me. More than once I dreamed about him rescuing me again, only this time, he was a full-grown man and not a skinny child.

The real him is more than my imagination was capable of conjuring. His palms move up to hold my face. He tilts his head to kiss me deeper. A thud fills my ears. I dropped the book. Neither of us cares.

Deep down, I know I shouldn't be doing this with him. Not until I understand what he wants, what he's been through. He might as well be a stranger to me and here I am, giving myself to him in the middle of an empty library.

Thick fingers play through my hair. One makes a fist, tugging my braid until my scalp tingles. The sensation drives a cold image into my mind—Dominic catching me from behind as I tried to flee.

Your heart can't help you get home.

“Wait,” I say, forcing myself out of his grasp.

Dominic watches me with his chest rising rapidly. The red, burning coals haven't left his eyes. I retreat a step; he follows. “I can't wait,” he whispers, his voice husky. “All this time, Laiken, I've thought about you. I want you more than you could ever understand. More than I understand.”

His raw admission steals my strength. I come close to falling into his arms, but before I do, I see the book lying on the floor. “Dominic, no.” The rejection cracks my heart. I see it hurts him too. “You were right earlier. I can't use my heart, I have to use my brain to get out of this mess, to get myself... my family... home. Letting you close to me, when I don't even understand who you are anymore, is reckless. What are you hiding from me?”

His body coils like a spring. I think he's going to tackle me, but he stays where he is, his every vein bulging. My eyes slide over his hard abdominals that push through his shirt. That's when I see the massive shape of his erection flexing through his jeans.

I've never seen a man naked before. I'm a virgin, through and through.

Once, last summer, there were some landscapers working in the yard. One of them was my age, his hooded eyes making his intentions known as he stared at me whenever I was around.

He got me alone one evening and tried to kiss me. He didn't care if I said no. He thought I'd be easy. I wasn't. After I bit his forearm, he left me alone. Word got around and no one else tried to approach me after that.

I want so badly to see Dominic in all his glory.

“I can't tell you the things you're asking about,” he whispers, gritting his teeth like he's being stabbed.

“You can't tell me now, or ever?”

He closes his eyes. His lashes are thick and beautiful. “I'm not sure.” He opens his mouth, shuts it. When he looks at me again, some of the icy cold has returned to his expression. “No, I definitely can't ever tell you.”

“Then this,” I say, motioning between us. “Can never happen again.”

He laughs, the brittle sound echoes through the room. “You're going to have your work cut out for you, do you understand that?”

“What are you talking about?” I didn't think he'd laugh at my threat.

“You want me to say no to you?” A wickedness moves through his voice and enters my blood. It sticks there, making me shake with an excitement that feels wrong. “Fine, I'll do my best to hold back when you're near me. But are you sure you're going to be able to do the same? Living under the same roof and seeing me constantly is going to take a toll.”

I'm stunned by how he twists my words around on me. “I'm not an animal, I can control myself.”

“That's good,” he says, and though he doesn't come any closer, I feel his presence as if it's rubbing over my whole body. “Because if you wanted me as much as I want you right now, this would be impossible to prevent. So thank goodness,” he chuckles, turning away, “that you're strong because I'm not. The first hint I get that you're about to break and to give yourself to me,” He smiles. I can taste the kiss that we experienced just minutes ago. “I'm going to make you mine.”