Blake
It’s funny that when it comes to snap decisions, I can make them easily. Just as five years ago when I walked away it had been easy. The decision once made, just a formality I could follow through with.
This time when I make the decision that will change everything it’s as simple as counting one, two, three.
I watch her, asleep on the bed of the pool house as I dial. Her body’s a tight ball, arms hugging knees, damp hair sprawled across white pillows.
I kissed her. And I fucking loved it, relished it. The memory of that scorching kiss burns through my veins and I want more, more than she can probably give.
My call connects and I take a deep lungful of air, my free hand picking imaginary fluff off my jeans. "I’m coming home." It sounds so easy when I say it.
I grimace at the snapped response and glance at my watch. "Tomorrow. Can you get Shayne to leave the car at the airport?"
A flurry of curses meet my ears, some in English, some Welsh. "Thanks, I appreciate it." I reply, my tone heavily laden with sarcasm.
Until that point I don’t know I’m going to say the words. But then there they are, breezing their way down the transatlantic phone call. "I’m not going to be alone."
There’s a stunned silence. Blake Henderson is always alone.
My eyes travel to the tangle of arms and legs on the bed. I’d always been alone with good reason. A reason that still stood. Yet, tonight I’d taken a brick from the wall and discarded it with my fears.
Tonight, my fears had transformed into something else.
Losing her would be the end of me. I know that now.
Being with her is impossible but losing her would be even worse. I will never walk away. I’m not that strong.
Yes, I’m stuck in no-man’s-land, but if that’s what it takes then that’s the place I will be. For her.
I sigh into the phone, dropping my chin onto my chest. A battering ram of tiredness smashes into me, reminding me I haven’t slept for over twenty-four hours. "Is Shayne okay?" It’s a loaded question. I haven’t tried to call him since my first day here and remorse niggles the back of my conscience like an annoying fly buzzing over a dessert.
I breathe out with the answer I receive. "Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow." I hang up quickly as the girl who absorbs all my attention begins to stir. She looks better than she did—but that’s not hard given the circumstances.
This is some serious messed up shit. What had he been doing to her? Is that what had happened before? The night that sent her to rehab? A stab of guilt takes up residence in my stomach. Was Erica, right? Am I the trigger?
Everything is starting to make more sense, but she needs to be the one to tell me, she has to share that. But if it helps, I will tell her all my truths, all the things I keep private—I will show her everything I am.
I don’t know what my role is anymore. Bodyguard? Friend? Man who kissed her in the shower when she was barely awake? I’m definitely that one.
"Hey?" her voice croaks, and I stand from my spot in the corner, padding across the carpet to hand her a glass of water.
"Here." It comes out gruffer than I intend, more of a bark. This is what happens with her. I can never be or act the way I want. It all comes out wrong and confused.
I kissed her. That was definitely wrong.
"Thanks." She clutches the glass and takes a sip, her eyes averting from mine. "Why does my throat hurt so much?" Her slender fingers rub the delicate skin of her neck and I swallow as a different pain of my own rises.
Perching on the bed, the mattress dips with my weight and I take the glass back. Relieved of the glass she falls back against the pillows. Dark purple bruises spread under her eyes, but then I guess I’m no picture right now either. I scrub a hand across the rough hair on my cheeks. A frown flickers across her face, settling in a deep groove between her brows. "Why am I just in my underwear?"
I lift an eyebrow. "Because you puked all over us, which just to add, I think may have caused the sore throat." A ghost of a smile flits across my lips. This is unchartered water. "You took projectile to a whole new level."
"You kissed me." Her gaze briefly lifts and a pink burn stains her cheeks.
"I’m sorry. I know it’s unprofessional." Just pull my tongue from my mouth—right now. I’ll never forget the way her tongue darted against mine, stroking and probing. I also know I want more.
I’m an asshole, I know that for sure.
Her face freezes into a mask of fury at my rebuff. "Yes, it was." She thrusts the sheets off her slim frame exposing all the things I want to see but know I shouldn’t look at. I stare anyway. I’m a man, not a monk. Irresistible milk chocolate freckles dot her skin in stark contrast to the black underwear I left her drying in. She’s a work of art in scraps of dark cotton.
We watch each other as a swirling tornado of uncomfortable silence moves around us.
"What did you take, Sophia?"
Her top lip curls into a snarky sneer. "What’s your role here, Henderson? Security or sober companion? You seem to be getting yourself confused."
I’ve hurt her with my asshole actions I know that. Yet like a collision about to happen I can’t stop myself from making it worse.
I lean towards her, despite the naked skin, despite the warmth radiating from her body, despite the fact I want her so bad it’s hurting every inch of me. "I’ll be whatever I need to be."
Get a goddamn grip, Blake.
The pink blush burning over her skin deepens into a hot red as she springs away. I watch it bloom over the pale skin along her throat. Christ, how much do I want her? It doesn’t bear thinking about. My dick stiffens in my jeans and I’m repulsed.
"You promised me you would tell me the truth." She plays the promise card just like she used to as an adolescent. Back then it was promises to take her to the mall, or the cinema, not divulge the dark secrets I contain.
I snort a burst of laughter and her mouth falls open in surprise. "The truth. I don’t even know if you can handle it."
I need to stop talking, but she’s just bloody standing there in that underwear. All I can think of is that pervert all over her, but then I can only wonder if I would be any different. My entire body wants her, is straining to touch her.
"What?" her eyes widen until the bloodshot whites are glimmering. "What do you mean, handle it?"
It’s some fucked up shit but I want to hurt her. Tell her how it is for me, how it’s been knowing the truth about her since Erica turned up on my door and showed me the evidence. "Someone knows about you, Sophia, knows about just how low your dependency stoops. They’ve been sending blackmail letters threatening to expose your dependency for months, and…" I hesitate, the words sting my throat but I need to get them out. "They know what you do… when you’re high. With Johnny, with other, uh, users."
Her skin, which is already pale and ghostly, fades until it blends with the cotton sheets. "What?" her voice wavers. If it wouldn’t have looked idiotic I’d have punched myself in the head for being a first-class twat. "Do you know what I do?" A tremulous waver lowers her voice until it’s a broken crack.
"I’ve seen the letters and the pictures that came with them."
In truth I wish I’d never seen them, didn’t know the dark ways Sophia finds love when she’s out of her mind on drugs. But I had. And those images will stay with me for life.
Horror widens her eyes and sheer humiliation etches across her face. "How can you bear to look at me?" she says with a shrill piercing cry.
I draw a shuddering breath into my chest. She watches it drag through my airways, her eyes wide. "Okay, lets calm this down, will you let me explain?" I hold my hands up in surrender, softening my tone.
"You can’t lie. Blake, I can’t take anymore lies."
I don’t want to lie. I want to tell her that the reason I can still look at her is because I still love her. Deep down in a forgotten place, I love her. I always had.
Curse me, but I reach for her. That wall with the one missing brick wants to come down.
Sophia trembles, her whole body vibrating against my hands. "I’m just a job, Blake. I know that, but you loved me once, didn’t you? Erica told me."
She draws her bottom lip between her teeth, squeezing the rosy flesh until I think it will bleed. Her eyes swim as she looks up at me.
And then I change everything with seven little words.
"You’ve never been just a job to me."
In my hands, Sophia, the only girl I’ve cared about—cared about too much when I shouldn’t, hadn't cared enough about when I should have—falls apart. Wracking sobs splinter her chest and I pull her tight, holding her firmly, until my own chest is heaving with the rise and fall of hers. My hands stray to her hair, smoothing it with my palms, my fingers skimming a path until her delicate face is once again cradled in my hold. "Sophia," I murmur her name. It’s nothing more than a throwaway prayer, a half-murmured wish I know will never be.
It’s all wrong.
Knowing you are too old and taking advantage is the only useful knowledge when you can use it to stop yourself from doing wrong.
I can’t. My mouth lowers. Every millimetre I have the chance to stop, but I don’t. I clutch her tight as if she will disappear, and lay claim to her lips. Using my hold on her head I tilt her face until she opens for me. Inhaling her breath, the heat of her tongue washes into my mouth and using my own tongue I explore her kiss until she’s limp in my arms.
She shudders and my body lights with a scorching fire until my dick is pulsing against the denim of my jeans.
Counting backwards from five to regain control I break myself free. She’s everything I’ve ever imagined, I’ve ever wanted. Soft and warm, hot and smooth, fiery in her responses. She tries to grab me back but I easily catch her wrists in my hand, lifting them above her head. There I have her, locked in my hold, the fragile bones of her wrists flinching under my firm grip.
"What drugs did you take, Sophia?" I need to know.
A dark flash ripples within the depths of her eyes but she shakes her head. Her lips, bruised from my desperate kiss, part. "I don’t know."
I nod. She wouldn’t lie, if she says she doesn’t know, it’s the truth. Whatever this sick, twisted situation is we’ve gotten ourselves into, I don’t think either of us can lie. Not anymore.
"My question." Her voice wavers and my stomach tightens.
I keep her hands above her head, holding her tight in my grasp. It stirs something dark and restless deep within me. "Yes?"
"Did you love me, Blake? Before? Was Erica telling me the truth for once?"
This is it. The defining moment of our past and our present.
I hold her gaze. "Yes." My answer is more feral growl than spoken words and her eyes widen at the sound of it.
There it is. The truth.
She doesn’t know how obsessed I once was. How I still want to possess every inch of her, how I still love her now. But now she knows once she had been so much more than a job.
To my surprise tears slip down her cheeks, one, then two, until a torrent lands on her freckled bare skin.
"I’m so sorry," she mumbles, wiping at her nose and damp cheeks with the palms of her hands, smearing moisture everywhere. "Sorry that I’ve disappointed you, sorry that I’ve lied to everyone about who I am."
"I’m sorry too, more than you will ever know." I release my hold on her wrists and gather her into my arms, kissing the blonde strands, smoothing the skin of her face.
She’s in my arms, her back pressed against my chest. How we’ve become a tangle of limbs I don’t know. It’s nothing sexual, it’s just us holding one another, two people clinging to a life raft in a sea of hopelessness. Across the bed are the letters Erica brought to my house and the others that have arrived since.
"Someone wants to destroy you, Soph. What they did at your home, they were trying to drag you back into your twisted world and they nearly did—you ran straight to him and offered yourself over without a thought. Whoever it is must have known the cravings would be too much." I grimace at the thought of her unconscious and lying underneath the bastard. What is wrong with him? Is he just as fucked up as her?
"I fell again." Her voice wavers and I run a hand through her fine pale hair. It feels like silk against my skin and I stop myself from taking the touch further. Sophia is bound so tight in her own secrets. If this is the path we are now on, we need to unravel one another slowly until the mess we’ve made is tidied away and we can be free. "I only ever wanted someone to want me." Her confession snaps my universe in half.
I’m the one she’s talking about. If I’d kissed her that night five years ago, if I’d told her how I’d felt, she would never have walked this path of destruction. She would never have lost her self-respect. Instead, I’d left thinking I was doing the right thing—taking the moral high ground. That ground had crumpled and fallen beneath us both.
I’m her trigger.
Self-loathing runs through me like an out-of-control stampede.
"It’s okay," I soothe, my lips close to her ear. "I won’t let anyone get that close again and you, you can heal. We’ll make sure no one knows the truth. I’ll protect you from everything." I would promise her the world if I could. I’d hand it to her in the palm of my hand.
She sniffs every so often as we sit in a tangled embrace with silence lapping around us "Who knows about the condo, Soph? Someone must."
"No one. I promise. Just Jacobs, Erica, and the cleaner, but the cleaner doesn’t know it’s mine. I’m careful not to leave anything personal around."
"How did you hire the cleaner?"
She sighs. "I asked Johnny’s PA to call an agency."
"So, Johnny knows?" Acid burns my throat at the mention of his name.
"No. Jemma did it as a favour, then once the contract was in place I called and pretended to be her and changed the address I’d originally given."
I nod slowly. She was thorough but it wouldn’t take much for a personal detective to dig and find what they needed. Everyone had a price in Hollywood—even Sophia herself.
I can’t stop thinking about Johnny. Would he be twisted enough to try to blackmail her into continuing with her dark ways? My gut says yes, but my head when I look at the letters tells me this is a personal vendetta.
One thing is clear. There is someone out there who wants Sophia to pay. Pay for what, I don’t know.
"The detectives are going to want to talk to you."
She gives a small nod.
"Sophia, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I should have done as soon as I came back. I just, I just."
"Just what?" She turns her head resting on my chest.
"I just didn’t want to jeopardise your recovery. Guess I fucked that up. And." I allow a small sigh to escape my lips. "I guess I didn’t want you to know that I knew what you’d been doing."
"Do I repulse you?" Pale blue eyes find mine.
"No."
"Why did you leave before, Blake? It hurt when you left. I had no one."
My eyes shutter and I wince. No more lies. "Sophia, I’m eight years older than you. You were seventeen. How do you think that made me feel? I repulsed myself."
"But you’re still eight years older than me, you always will be, even when we are grey and old."
"But now you can be old enough to know what you want."
"And what happens if I want you now, still?" She turns a little, her lips curving at the edge.
"I don’t know. I can’t protect you and be with you. It’s one of the fundamental rules of being a protector."
A wane smile spreads across her lips. "What if I hired another bodyguard?"
I shake my head. No chance in hell I’m leaving her safety in the hands of another—not again.
"Soph." I nudge her but then my face falls as I think of the predicament we are in. "I can’t walk away again either."
Sighing, like I’ve promised her the world, she relaxes against me, our breathing in sync just like we’re practising yoga. "Erica said if I break the contract with the studio it will all be over." She spins her rings, fiddling. Her withdrawal from last night’s high seems mild. But I know from watching others go through this it takes longer than one morning.
"What do you want to do?"
I wait for her to speak—it takes an age. "Blake, I want it to be over. I don’t want to live a lie anymore."