Chapter Eight

Alaska

When the clerk handed me my ticket and I saw it was going to bring me to Los Angeles, I almost turned around and walked out. I had vowed to never go back, to never return to the source of all my troubles.

But I decided to take the risk anyway. Life was filled with challenges, ups and downs; how could I walk away from something that felt so right?

Kealen had this power over me, this heavy-handed, fall to your knees power. I wanted more, needed more. . . So I jumped.

Swallowing my stomach, I shut my eyes and took that leap of faith. I had nothing to lose. There was no place I could run to that I wouldn't be recognized. So, what did it matter?

It didn't.

I had literally made it to the other side of the country and still reporters were able to find me. The front page claimed my name as its own, I couldn't escape. Hiding didn't do shit anymore. I was found.

The soft flicker of the candle lit up Kealen's face. “This is really nice,” I said, taking a sip of my water. “Thank you.”

“Allie, this is just the start, I hope you know that.” Breaking a piece of bread in half, he popped it into his mouth and smiled.

I loved his smile. It was comforting and sexy, melting me from the inside out. This man went above and beyond to make me feel at ease, and it didn't seem like an act or ruse to trick me.

He seemed genuine, like the world was just a playground that you could enjoy. I knew it differently. I saw it as a place filled with deceit and lies that stalked you daily.

“I know a lot of things, but none of it is this good.” Twirling the ice in my glass, I stared blankly at the table.

Eyeing me curiously, Kealen leaned in over the table. “Look, I know you've been hiding from something, I know you want to disappear and pretend you were just born right before the moment we met. . .”

Snapping my eyes up to his, I inhaled a sharp breath. It scared me how well he could read me, how he could see right through me and know that much.

I wasn't sure how he did it, but it made it harder and harder for me to hold my wall up. Secrets weren't a healthy way to move forward. They devoured you from inside, eating away through your muscles until they finally breached the surface.

Pursing my lips, I leaned forward to speak, but bit my tongue. It's too soon. Let him get to know you so he doesn't get scared away.

Kealen stared at me through slit lids, waiting to see if I would answer. And I still couldn't. Not yet, not when things seem so good.

Scrunching his lips, he sat back in his chair. “What I can't figure out is why you haven't asked me anything. Aren't you curious about me?”

“I am.” Shifting in my chair, I nervously stroked my hair. His eyes lit up in the flame, twinkling with small sparks. My belly twirled and spun like strands of silk being weaved together.

He made me nervous, but it was the best kind of nervous I had ever felt.

The gray jacket he wore tugged on his muscles as he flexed his arms, drawing my eyes right to them. A tight, white shirt fixed to his chest, forming snugly against him like wrapping paper around a present.

Every contour, every groove and bulge were snapping and perking as he bent his arms and wiggled closer to the table.

I was suspended in thought, my brain skipping between where he was leading the conversation and the desire to peel the shirt off his body so I could run my hands over his muscles.

Tapping his fingertips together, Kealen rested his chin on his hands, smirking. “So why don't you ask?”

“I just thought it was easier to not know.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Cocking a brow, he dipped his head.

“I mean. . .” Pausing, I lifted a spoon off the table and started to twirl it around. “If I don't ask you, you won't ask me.”

Laughing hard, Kealen rubbed his jaw, letting his hands fall down lightly. “Allie, I already know you won't talk about yourself, but you can ask me anything you want. I'm not going to pry, but I'm an open book to you. All I can hope is that at some point you'll give up your secrets willingly.”

Not a chance in hell.

Willingly—no, due to forces out of my control—maybe. If I could keep that stupid show in the pitfalls of my life, I would. And the man who put me there, pushing for me to give up my virginity for his own benefit could ride alongside it.

There was no way I was going to jeopardize whatever was happening between us. He seemed like a good guy, he didn't deserve to have his name in the spotlight, ruining him too.

I wasn't sure how long I'd be able to hide it from him, but for now, it wasn't worth it. Right then, that moment was all I wanted to focus on.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you so willing to give yourself to me, but not expect it back?” Tipping the spoon up onto the thin edge of the curve, I spun it in circles.

I was having a hard time believing what he was saying. There was always an expectation, a return to a favor, interest on a loan; nothing came free. It didn't matter what it was.

If Kealen was going to let me into his world, there had to be something he wanted for it.

Right?

His palms flattened against the table, sliding across to grab mine. “Because what I feel isn't based off who you were, it's based off who I've seen.”

“But you don't know me.”

“That's what I'm hoping to do, I'm hoping to get to know you, even if it's just what you want me to see.”

My heart fluttered, pattering inside my chest like the quick drumming of a rabbit's foot against the ground. I felt my skin blush, the warmth running from my arms to my toes, and pooling between my thighs.

Crossing my feet, I squeezed my legs firmly together. My sensitive button throbbed, pulsing with a heartbeat of its own. The feelings rushing through me were new and unknown, they scraped me raw, leaving me open and vulnerable.

And I called it in, eager to explore all it had to offer. Why else would I have jumped on that plane?

I came because it felt right, I came because it was time for me to take my life back.

I came because I wanted to see where these feelings could go and how far I would let them push me till I decided to shut them down.

And maybe. . . Maybe a part of me wanted to give him more.

The smile spread across my face as tingles washed over my skin. “I don't know what to say to that.”

“I want to show you something.” Holding my hand, he stood up. “Come on.” Nodding to the waiter, he pointed at the check holder on the table.

The waiter nodded back, giving him a smug grin. “What was that all about?” I asked, looking between the two men, their unspoken exchange leaving me curious.

Shrugging his shoulder, his hand engulfed mine. “I'm a regular here.”

Kealen led me a block over from the restaurant and to a large office building. The building was amazing. It towered over the rest on the street, looming over the city like a watch dog.

As we approached from the sidewalk, I was in awe over the two large glass doors with heavy gold handles. The glass was cloudy, floral designs were crafted across the entire pane. Tugging out a key card, he swiped it through a box on the handle and opened the door.

The floor lit bright white in Italian Carrara marble, a center mosaic of a bridge over water drew your eye in. It was the most intricate piece of art I had ever seen. Each stone was laid perfectly, the colors all lining up to create the illusion that the bridge and water were real.

“Wow, this is beautiful.” Stepping around the image, I stared down amazed.

“That's the Bridge of Sighs.” Kealen walked behind me, his feet clicking against the hard stone.

“The what? It sounds so sad for something so beautiful.” Tucking my hair behind my ears, I bent down to look closer.

“It could be considered sad, but now it holds a different meaning. Maybe we can go someday, it's way better to see in person.”

“It's a real bridge?” Dragging my fingers lightly over the picture, I stared down at the floor.

Dropping down beside me, Kealen laid his hands on his knees. “The first time I saw it, there was something about it that just stuck with me.”

“Wait—” Flicking my face up to his, I pointed at the floor. “You made this?”

“I had a part in it.” Holding out his hand, he eyed his fingers. “See that scar?” he asked, pointing at a thick white line on his right middle finger. “I can thank this picture for that.” Standing back up, he held out his hand and lifted me to my feet.

“Where are we? What is this place?”

“This is my home away from home.” Chuckling, he led me to a row of elevators and hit the button to go up.

Everything about this building screamed money. It was fancy and flashy, with details on top of details.

The exposed wood beams were carved, burned, and etched. The ceiling wasn't just a ceiling, but a sheen that looked as smooth as the inside of a seashell with multiple colors all bleeding together.

As the double doors opened to the fifth floor, a huge desk made of dark cherry greeted me with the name Knight Architecture scripted into the wood.

“What's this?”

“This is my office.” He walked to a thick door, swiping a key card into the box on the wall and punching in a set of a numbers. “If you won't ask me questions about who I am, I'll just have to show you instead.”

I didn't know what to say or think.

When I met him in Waterford, Kealen came off as just your regular kind of guy. A man who worked with his hands and spent his days outside. His skin was kissed by the sun, his hair had highlights that looked natural, not salon born.

All of this. . . This took me by surprise.

I guess it just showed me that you can't tell who someone is from just looking at them. I would have never thought that before. In my world, you knew the people who had money and those who didn't.

You could easily see when a family came from a long line of wealthy people in their tree of ancestry and the ones who found it by chance.

Then you had my dad. A man who wanted that life, a man who tried and did anything to give his name weight. We weren't poor, but he wasn't happy with what we had. He always wanted more.

My mother used to tell me that happiness comes from inside you, that material things only fueled greed and hatred for others. She used to say that it didn't matter how much you had, because there was always someone with more.

And if you spent your life trying to attain what someone else had, you'd lose touch with what was important.

Those words came true when I finally saw what my father was built from. He was greed, he was hatred. And he turned his back on me a long time ago.

Strolling into his office, I ran my hand across the seam of a black leather couch, leading myself heel to toe around the room.

There was a floor to ceiling bookshelf, filled to the brim with books. A huge mahogany desk was pushed almost against the windows with rolls and rolls of paper all piled up on top. Large pictures of bridges and buildings were hanging on the walls, all labeled with tags of where the photo came from.

“Alright, I have a question. . .”

“Ask, ask me anything.” The leather squeaked gently as Kealen sat down, resting his arm on the back.

I could feel his eyes watching me as I explored the room. Even though I wasn't looking at him, they burned my skin. Prickles excitedly rode my spine as I walked to the giant windows that created his back wall.

“Who are you?”