Tease Me (Teased and Broken Book 1) (15 page)

“What the fuck is your problem?” Brett stared at me, aghast.

“It had a strawberry on the glass,” I shot back.
 

“I would have
realized
that,” he glowered, bending down to pick up the glass, then he snapped his fingers at one of the wait staff to attend to it.

“I didn’t realize you were allergic to strawberries!” Clarissa cried, dismayed. “Thank God I didn’t put them in the cake I cooked for your big celebration tonight.”

I sniffed the air. Really? She was cooking in my kitchen now? Not that I ever used the fucking thing to do that. I was hopelessly undomesticated.
 

Thorn was observing this exchange with amusement flickering in his dark green eyes, his body pressed close to mine as he stood beside me, invading all personal space. I stepped away from him, but he closed the distance again immediately in a sort of eerie glide. I sighed.
 

“That cake smells delicious,” Thorn complimented Clarissa, then he lowered his voice, leaning across to her. “Perhaps we should discuss the terms of my refund upstairs, away from all of these folk. It could get a little awkward.”

She nodded and took my rock star’s hand, leading him upstairs.
 

“Clarissa!” Brett was outraged. He stared after her as she went up the stairs with Thorn.

That bitch was certainly looking very familiar and at home in my house, I realized with sickening dread (how long had they been going on exactly again?). Brett threw an anguished look in my direction before following them.
 

Aaron gripped my hand tightly, holding me back. “You are
not
having another drink with that man. Stay with me. Please don’t go. Let’s get out of here. Let’s go for a walk.
Anything
.”

I wriggled out of his grasp. “How can I leave Brett alone with him after that dream you told me about?” I was horrified. “No way, I’m going.”

Aaron bit his lip. “Then so am I.” His arms folded across his chest. “And by going, I mean leaving your house. I am sick of you doing stupid shit like this.”

“Protecting Brett is not stupid shit,” I bit out angrily.

“You being anywhere near Thornton Darko
is
stupid shit.” Aaron turned on his heel and stalked away from me; on the threshold, he yelled over his shoulder, “Call me when you make more sense.”

I stared after him in shock. Wow. I had clearly pushed my friend too far this time, but there was absolutely no way I was going to leave Thorn alone with Brett. I moved into the kitchen and grabbed my bottle of vodka from the freezer, and poured myself a shot to calm my rather jangled nerves. I needed to deal with my drinking issue some time.
 

I took a deep, shuddering breath, aware that conversation from the party goers had fallen silent and what felt like a million pairs of sympathetic eyes were upon me. I heard their whispers and speculations, and if I heard ‘date rape’ one more time, I was going to lose it.
 

Then I sniffed the air. Shit. Holy shit. Brett’s cake was burning. Part of me wanted to see it burst into flame and incinerate like our engagement had. But I found some oven mitts and opened the door of the oven as smoke poured out of it. It smelt worse than it looked. Exasperated, I removed the thing and shoved it carelessly onto a large chopping board I had discovered, then slammed the oven door shut.
 

“Oh, dear.” Thorn’s voice beside me made me jump. He was staring down at the cake in amusement. “Let me order a new one… I know this wonderful little gourmet cake shop, the owner makes the most divine cakes – because it would be
such
a pity if Brett can’t have his cake and eat it too, yes?”

I stared at him. “Why would you do that?”
 

Thorn shrugged. “I refused to give him back the art I purchased. It’s the least I can do to recompense the inconvenience of now owning his soul, as he calls it.”
 

“Why are you even here?” I asked quietly.

“I thought that’d be obvious.” Thorn sounded hurt.

I just stared at him.

“You!” he breathed. “Always… you.”

Eighteen

Thorn held up a finger as he turned away from me for a second, phone to his ear, and ordered a celebration cake for Brett. It was sick and utterly demented that he thought Brett would celebrate anything about him unwittingly selling his blood, sweat, tears and very soul as he had called it, to Thornton Darko, but there it was.

“Besides,” Thorn continued after he finished the call, fixing me with a gaze that pinned me to the wall. “I figured you could use some support. I have some friends in the art community, and I had heard of Brett’s plans to hold the art show at your place. It was a senseless act of revenge. I thought it was cruel and unnecessary, and so…” he spread his hands. “Here I am.”

“I think you should go,” I said coldly. It wasn’t that I was unmoved by his slightly misguided intent to ‘support’ me as he put it. I just wasn’t ready to see, much less talk to him right now. I didn’t trust myself around this man at the moment, and I was still processing last night.
 

“Oh,” he said flatly. “Of course.”

“First smart thing I’ve heard come out of your mouth tonight,” Brett interrupted us.
 

Thorn brows swept down in a frown. “Don’t speak to her that way.”

Brett hefted a canvas and shoved it into Thorn’s huge chest, driving him back a pace. “Here’s your fucking art, you piece of shit. Then in a blur or rage and adrenalin, I watched in shock as my enraged ex-fiancé flung one canvas after the other into Thorn, backing him up against the fridge. Thorn just let him, and made no move to resist or fight the barrage of paintings pushed onto him.

“Brett!” I freaked. He was the angriest I had ever seen him. “Stop it!” I reached for his shoulder, but he shrugged me off, grunted, and pushed the five heavy canvases against my rock star, pinning him. He pushed even harder, and I thought I heard a sickening crunch. I couldn’t tell if it was the art, Thorn, or Brett; this was the most insane thing I had ever seen.
 

Thorn groaned and pushed back, his arms and intimidating large torso burst through the canvases, and took Brett around the waist as he threw him to the floor. Shaking, he freed himself from the frames of the ruined works, and glared furiously down at Brett for a moment. “Do me a favor. Stop punishing Elena. She did nothing wrong. Take your little show and get out of here.”

Thorn’s gaze found mine. “Don’t put up with his shit. You know how to reach me if you need me. I am truly sorry I came here tonight. I only wanted to support you, but I see that my being here has only hurt you. Goodbye.”

And then he was gone. He just ran out of there, a blur of black intense mayhem.
 

I refused to follow him. I needed to be alone. I needed to process what the fuck just happened. I wasn’t sure what to think anymore, I was so confused.
 

“That man is certifiable,” Brett said quietly; he was now standing, and had fastened his hands around my arms. I noticed him flick his head gently for Clarissa, who has clucking her tongue angrily at the destroyed artwork, to leave us be for a moment.
 

“You need to cease all contact with him. I’ve seen his type before. They’re obsessive. Dangerous. They never give up.” He sighed. “Look, I’m sorry I held this stupid show here. It was a dick move, I admit. I wanted to hurt you. Because God knows, woman, you have hurt me. How could you…” he trailed off. “With
him
? A fucking rock star? How do you think that makes me
feel
!?”

I had no words. I only shook my head.

Brett surprised me by taking me briefly in his arms for a moment, and we simply but awkwardly embraced. It felt nice to be held by him again. “I hate you so much it hurts,” he sighed into my hair. “You realize that? I am not a very nice person to be around at the moment. I need some space to think.”

I nodded. “I hear you there. Me, too.”

“So was it just… infatuation with Mr. Cellrager or something
more
?” Brett asked, an edge to his voice.

Hell to no. I wasn’t ready to have that conversation with him yet. I shook my head. “I can’t,” I stammered.

“Why?” He sounded angry now.

Tears were stinging my eyes.

We were momentarily interrupted when someone set down a cake box. “Arrived at the door.”
 

Brett didn’t even ask if I wanted a piece, he just grabbed two plates on autopilot and forks and sliced into the beautiful marbled round cake with Congratulations scrawled across it in pink frosting.
 

He angrily speared some onto a fork as he pierced me with his bitter gaze. “You think you
love
Mr. rock star, is that it?” he asked.

“I don’t know what I feel,” I said honestly. “He is…” I trailed off, and besides, I thought this line of questioning was so hypocritical of him. What about Clarissa, for fuck’s sake?

“What?!” Brett stuffed an impossibly huge bite of cake into his mouth as he considered me through narrowed brown eyes that glittered with barely restrained rage. The man looked like he was about to explode.
 

“Like I said, I don’t want to discuss it right now,” I said.
 

Brett plunged his fork into the cake again, and demolished another sizable bite. The man was eating angry. He was so going to get indigestion later.
 

“He is so what?” Brett pressed.

“Maddening!” I groaned. “Look. I won’t deny it, there is clearly an attraction there all right? I got caught up in it, I might have even thought I was in love.”

Brett snorted as he swallowed his cake, shoved still more into his mouth, and he sprayed crumbs at me as he fired his next question. “How do you feel now?”

I spread my hands helplessly. “I don’t know; can we please stop talking about him, Brett? I could just as easily be asking you these questions about Clarissa,” I groaned.

“Clarissa and I are not anything. That was a mistake. We were both drunk; it doesn’t make it all right, for sure, but it is what it is. My future is not with Clarissa.” His voice fell softly. “I thought it was with
you.
But I’m not sure of anything anymore. Except this, You truly are fucking
toxic
.”

I could barely believe what I was hearing. The man was giving me fucking whiplash.

Brett licked his lips as he finished the remainder of the large slice of cake he had just destroyed in front of me, and he bristled with arrogant defiance.

“You’re right.” I glared at him. “You are not a very nice person to be around at the moment.”

Then my phone beeped. I looked down at it.

Thorn.

You’re welcome

What the fuck did that mean?

Then Brett started coughing. I stared at him in alarm, his face had turned crimson, his hands were at his throat, his glassy eyes widened in horror. “Elena… I think… strawberries,” he rasped. His face was puffing up rather quickly before my eyes, cheeks taking on a doughy appearance and pushing up into his eyes, making them watery slits of terror and pain.
 

I quickly placed a call through to 911.

“Your allergy kit!” I freaked. “Where is it?”

“Not here.” He slurred around a fat tongue, his head was so swollen and blotchy now, I barely recognized him. This was bad. Very bad.
 

I cradled Brett in my arms as we awaited help. I did what I could to comfort and ease his distress. This was a nightmare. A horror show. Aaron’s little joke about the title for my reality TV series was not far off the mark.
 

I was shaking, when another message pinged through from Thorn.

Well? I’m waiting? Where is my thanks?

Thornton Darko had just tried to kill Brett.
 

Ninteen

I met Thorn in as neutral a location as I could think in Ashby. It was a little coffee place called ‘Cave in a Wall’; the place was underground, the walls lined from floor to ceiling with books. I did not go alone. Aaron was sitting in the corner pretending to read a book, and Daniel was awesome enough to wait just a little down the road in his BMW for a quick getaway.

As Mr. Cellrager himself slid across from me in the little booth I had found not too far from Aaron, he wore his characteristic head to toe black, the coat buttoned right up practically to his strong chin. He looked like he hadn’t slept. Since Brett had been hospitalised and later saved from a severe allergic reaction, I had received a ridiculous amount of messages from Thorn asking to see me again. I couldn’t. I refused. For just under a week, I buried myself in my writing, and got more done than I ever thought possible.
 

I had even started writing the book Thorn had asked me to write, not because he wanted it, but because I thought it was a damn good idea. But mostly, I had been doing a lot of thinking. About Brett. About Thorn. About what I wanted. Fair to say, I was still as confused as fuck. But Thorn was scaring me. I needed more time, and besides, I still cared very much for Brett. I hadn’t given up hope on us yet. It wasn’t fair to Thorn, no matter what I was feeling for him, for me to continue to see him when I felt the way I did. Besides, the man, I was convinced, although I had been unable to uncover any proof of this, had tried to
kill
Brett.
 

“How is Brett?” he asked, like he truly cared about my answer.

“He lived,” I said flatly.
 

Thorn nodded. “I’m so relieved,” he breathed, and reached for my hands.

I clasped them tightly in my lap, hiding them from view.

He frowned and bit his lip, considering me for a moment. “You don’t believe me.”
 

I shook my head, blinking back tears.
 

“I have no idea how strawberries came to be in that damnable cake.
Really
.” His voice had taken on a pleading tone.
 

“I’m heading out to one of my favourite places to write some new material,” he continued when I said nothing to this. He flicked an airline ticket to Mexico across the table to me. “I want you to come with me.”