The Darkest of Shadows (22 page)

“Monterey. Hello, Lilly.” Patrick finally made an appearance later on in the evening. For all I knew, he had probably been there the whole time, just out of our notice.

“Good evening, Patrick.” Lawrence welcomed him with a neutral tone. I understood that he had to be careful; Allan was standing with us, as were two other of his other Directors.

“Hello, Patrick,” I said, with a small smile.

Patrick’s gaze slipped down to where Lawrence still held onto my hand, then it flicked up to stare at the diamonds.

“Might I have a word with you in private, Monterey?” Patrick asked in a deceptively calm tone.

“Tonight isn’t for business, Patrick,” Lawrence reminded him.

“This is of a more personal nature.”

Lawrence and Patrick shared a long look before Lawrence finally conceded, and then I’m sure it was only so that Patrick didn’t start speaking right then and there in front of everyone. But Lawrence only went so far as moving a few meters behind us so that Frost and Charlie stood between the sea of people and their quiet conversation.

I stayed where I was, but I watched with growing alarm as Patrick and Lawrence’s conversation became more and more heated. Even though I couldn’t hear their words, it was obvious to me, and then also to everyone else watching—including the other directors—that they were having an argument.

I slipped past Charlie and walked over to stand beside Lawrence. “Stop this!” I snapped at them both. “Everyone is watching. If you want to continue this, then you need to take it somewhere more private.”

“We don’t need to continue this discussion. You have said what you needed to say, Patrick. Enough,” Lawrence announced.

Patrick looked like he wanted to say a whole lot more, but remained silent.

“Let’s go, Lilly.” Lawrence slipped an arm around my waist to guide me back to the others, but Patrick’s words stalled us.

“Wait. Lilly?” he said, and I turned back to look at him.

“What, Patrick?” Why did things have to be so complicated?

“Are you all right?” he asked, and as he spoke his hand reached out like he was going to touch the side of my face. I jerked back in astonishment.

“Are you crazy?” I hissed. “Don’t touch me here.” Seriously, one touch and everyone would put the truth together, and then they would assume that the two of them had been fighting over me—which I didn’t doubt was probably the truth.

Lawrence pulled me back a step, closer to his side.

“I know what tomorrow means to you, Lilly.” Patrick spoke quietly, his face showing an echo of past pain. “I know how hard it is for you, and I want you to know that I’m here for you if you need me.”

Until he spoke the words, I had been able to forget; for the few hours that I had been here tonight I had not seen the darkness, but now, with startling clarity it came flooding through my body and caused me to sway against Lawrence’s hold.

“What’s the time?” I asked. The words came out broken and with a touch of hysteria that I couldn’t hide.

“Nearly midnight.” Patrick spoke the words while Lawrence bristled beside me. I felt the tension in his body and the vibration of his anger. “Lilly, let me help you, let me take you home.” Patrick’s words slipped over my mind but where quickly lost in the onslaught of fear that took hold.

I felt Lawrence move against me, and then I felt two other bodies on either side of me. A hand gripped mine, a big hand, but not Lawrence’s hand.

“You selfish piece of shit!” I heard Lawrence’s voice. “You don’t think that she knows exactly what tomorrow is? I want so much to break your pretty face right now, but that would only lead to rumors about Lilly that are unfair. Take yourself out of my sight before I decide your services aren’t worth the pain that you cause me.”

I moved without really seeing where I was going. We didn’t seem to have any trouble getting through the crowds, and then we were in the quiet of the car. Traveling a while, then city lights, more noise, and then more help to walk a short distance.

I didn’t know what time it was. I didn’t want to find out, because I knew it was too late. I knew I wasn’t safe in my own apartment, and I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t believe I had been so foolish.

“It’s all right, Lilly.” The words were spoken over and over again, the calmness of their manner slowly eating through the terror that gripped me.

“I’m here. It’s OK. Just breathe.” I came to the realization that I was sitting on my bed, being rocked gently in someone’s arms. Lawrence’s arms. My face pressed against his chest as hiccupping sobs escaped from my body.

I pulled away from him and saw the deep sadness in his eyes. He knew I hurt; he didn’t know why, but it was easy to see that he cared, and the more I looked at him, the further away the darkness went.

I stood up, slowly and hesitantly, and he rose to stand before me. Unhurriedly, but with determination, I reached behind me and unzipped my dress. I let it fall open at the back and then pulled the long sleeves down each arm.

Lawrence’s breath hissed out between his lips, but he remained totally still.

The dress dropped to the ground, and then my bra followed, and eventually everything. I stood before Lawrence totally naked except for the glittering diamond choker he had given to me as a gift.

“I don’t feel the darkness when I’m with you.” I whispered the words quietly to him. “Tonight, please help me to feel something else. Help me to forget.” I couldn’t stand the pain, not here, not with him. It was too all-consuming and frightening to share, and only Lawrence could make me forget.

He reached out and ran his fingers down my face, his touch trailing gently over my skin, then he pulled my body against his. His lips found mine in a soft, precious kiss. One that had the darkness receding; made the memories that had hovered so close to my consciousness fade away.

Lawrence’s kiss devoured me; he worshiped me and left me wanting so much more. He helped me strip his jacket off, and the tie and shirt, and then I ran my hands down the firm strength of his chest, the sculptured flatness of his stomach, and the hard ridges of his hips. My hands fumbled with this belt until he took it off himself, and then he was as naked as I.

My body exploded with heat the moment his nakedness pressed against my own. He was just as beautiful as I imagined he would be, and so much more tender.

“Lilly.” He whispered my name as he lowered me onto the bed, his body following to spread over me, his hands and lips seeking and knowing every part of my body, his heat warming me in ways that had my body bucking beneath his touch.

“Yes, oh please,” I called, needing him to touch me, because touching, feeling, drove the darkness away and left me with nothing left to think about except more of that feeling. He stole all thought and all fear from my body as he finally claimed me as his own.

I was robbed of thought and speech for a long while; the beauty and the peace of what we shared touched me deeply. Lawrence lay beside me, his body half over mine, his arms held tightly around me as he placed soft kisses in my hair. He held on like he was afraid he would lose me at any moment; and it was with absolute certainty in my own mind that indeed it was possible, more than possible, that I burst into tears.

I never cried. I couldn’t cry. Except on Christmas Day. That day I used up my entire year’s worth of tears. Every year it was the same. I cried from midnight till dawn on Boxing Day. I remembered everything, every moment of what I had lost. Every secret exposed and raw to me to remember in startling clarity. The loss and horror, and this year it was no different.

Except for the very real man who held my sobbing body the entire time. Not once did he budge from that bed, not once did he lighten his hold, and not once did he question my actions or offer any words of false comfort. He held onto me and rode out the storm.

He was sleeping quietly beside me at dawn on Boxing Day, the unofficial end of my painful exile. His arms were still wrapped around me, and both our bodies were damp from my tears. He looked harrowed, and I knew that I was the cause. That he had managed to get any sleep was astonishing, so I tried not to wake him now.

I reached out and snagged my clutch from the bedside table, dragging it over to me so that I could flip the phone out into my hand. I dialed the number and waited for the long-distance call to connect.

A sleepy voice echoed down the phone. “Lilly?”

“Shhh,” I whispered quietly and then held my breath as Lawrence stirred uneasily beside me.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hi, Reed.” It calmed me to hear my sister’s voice. I missed her so much.

“Hey.” Reed said quietly. “Why am I being quiet?” she asked.

“Lawrence is sleeping beside me.” I knew she would love that.

“Oh, my God!” Her voice rose in volume and I could hear her husband’s muttered complaint in the background. “Sorry, honey,” she apologized to him. “Lilly?”

I laughed quietly. “I might have slept with him,” I admitted. “But that’s not really the point. He stayed.”

I didn’t need to explain any more for her to understand the enormity of what I was saying. “All day?”

“Yeah. What does that mean?”

“It means that he really likes you,” Reed told me.

“Or that he’s crazy.”

“No, honey, that’s your MO,” she reminded me. “He’s not crazy, at least I don’t think so. He’s a strong powerful man Lilly. He’s used to being able to get anything he wants in life, and if he can’t get it with his looks or his intelligence, then he buys it. You, however, aren’t cooperating with him. He tried getting you with his looks, and he tried to buy you and you turned down both. The only thing he’s got left is to actually offer you what probably no one else has ever seen—his true self.”

“What does that mean?” I asked. My sister liked to garble.

“I’m saying that I doubt there was another woman that he’s ever been with who he even cared enough about to ask why they were upset,” she explained. “You, he stays for a whole day just to hold you while you cry.”

“You’re confusing me.”

“I’m not trying to. I’m just saying it like I see it.”

“You can’t see anything,” I told her. “You’re making it up as you go along.”

“Yes, but some of my best ideas happen that way,” she retorted. “And besides, if you didn’t think I was on the right track, you wouldn’t be getting so defensive about it.”

I did have to agree with her on one point. I couldn’t see Lawrence consoling a weeping society bride, but then I didn’t know that much about his past associations. Maybe he had a love that meant more than just a casual engagement.

“So I take it that you’re OK now?” Reed interrupted my musings.

“I am,” I told her. “Better than I expected.”

“Are you going to keep seeing him?”

“I work with him every day,” I reminded her.

“Yes, but now he’s seen you naked, and I doubt very much that he’s going to forget that anytime soon.”

I had the same worry. “I’m not sure,” I admitted honestly. “It’s probably not a good idea. Look how well it ended the last time I slept with my boss.”

“That’s true. Dad got your present, by the way; however, he wonders why you would send him a watch.”

“What’s wrong with a watch?” I asked in surprise.

“The hands are too small for him to see the time.” She laughed quietly over the phone.

“Ah, crap. Sorry,” I apologized. “I didn’t even think about that. I just thought he’d like it.”

“No, he loves it,” she assured me. “He won’t take it out of the box, and he won’t ever wear it, but he does love it. He gets it out to show everyone— even the neighbors have had a look, although I wish he’d stop showing it around quite so much. I don’t think it’s a good idea to go around telling anyone who’ll listen that you have a Rolex in your sock drawer.”

That was so typical of my dad. I snuggled deeper into Lawrence’s arms as I pictured my dad with the watch I had sent him as a Christmas “I’m still alive” gift. I smiled, a genuine smile of affection. I missed them both immensely.

I turned around so that the phone was on my other ear and came face to face with a very awake Lawrence.

“Gotta go,” I whispered into the phone and instantly disconnected the call. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” I told him and found myself suddenly shy.

“Who were you talking to?” he asked quietly and I relaxed against him again when his hand rubbed gently over my back.

“My sister.” I think that was the first time in a very long time that I’d told anyone anything about my past. Lawrence would be the only person in my current life who even knew I had a sister.

I was surprised but relieved when he didn’t make a big deal about it. He merely raised an eyebrow in response and pulled me tighter into his arms. “You look tired,” he said. “Get some sleep.”

“I can’t,” I countered, and then I made a snap decision to explain further. He had seen enough to deserve to understand. “I need to wash it off my body,” I explained. “I can still feel it clinging to me, and I won’t feel right until I shower.”

“I understand,” he said quietly, and let me pull away from him. “Go. I’m not going anywhere.”

Strangely, that was a comforting thought. I took a while showering, I always did after my exile. It was cleansing to me, a way to physically wash away the memories. I was wearing a short cotton nightgown when I came out of the shower and found Lawrence missing from my bed. I hadn’t expected that and was taken aback to find him gone.

“Lilly.” His voice drew my attention to the door where he stood wearing nothing more than a pair of boxer shorts. His hair was still damp, and I realized he had taken a shower at the same time I did. His hand was stretched out toward me in invitation.

I knew he was asking me to make a decision. Did I come voluntarily to him, in the full knowledge of what he was asking? When I wasn’t overcome with grief and sorrow, when I was just me, did I still choose him?

Yes, I did.

I walked over and took his hand, and he drew me across the hall and into his own bedroom. The sheets in here were in much better shape, but more than that, it was symbolic that he chose for us to sleep in his bed. It made it real; and it made it my choice, my decision to enter his space, his world.