Wicked Steps (17 page)

Kieran

She didn’t want me. I could read it in her demeanor. When she hadn’t wanted to share a shower with me, I knew. We’d done too much to each other in a short amount of time. True, I’d done everything possible to incur her hatred. Not exactly an achievement I wished to brag about. I was now afraid I’d sabotaged any chance for me to be with her. I couldn’t even understand what happened. All this time, I loathed her and treated her like trash. I wasn’t supposed to care about her. What happened to her shouldn’t matter. It’s what she deserved. Yet once I heard Ellery’s words and saw the physical scars of what he’d done, everything changed for me. The anger and need for retaliation I had felt before was now replaced with deep regret and outrage. The baggage we both carried was courtesy of my father. Even in death, he was still fucking up my life.

I showered and was currently raiding the pantry for syrup. I pulled out the maple and set it on the table along with butter. I flipped over four pancakes before I placed them on a plate, then balanced them in the crook of my arm as I carried a pitcher of juice.

“Need some help?” Her voice startled me. I was glad to see she actually showed up. She looked refreshed in jeans and a sweater. Her face was natural but for a shiny mouth and her hair pulled back in bun.

“Grab two glasses if you could,” I replied as I set down everything.

“Looks good,” she said as she handed me my glass and sat down. I had placed our dishes side by side. I hadn’t forgotten the offer to eat from her plate.

I scooted next to her.

“As hungry as I am—and trust me; I’m starved—it’s extremely hard to concentrate on pancakes when the chef has no clothes on.”

I dropped my fork and lifted my brows with a grin. “I have on pants.”

She took a sip of juice and dotted her lips with a napkin. Just doing that put my dick on high alert.

“It’s hard to focus when all I can see are tattoos, a muscular chest, a washboard abdomen… and what are those? Oh yeah, nipple bars.”

“So in other words, I make you wet?” I smiled as I patted my rock-hard abs. “Speaking of nipple bars, what happened to the gold ring I gave you?” I looked at my plate, pretending it was a nonchalant inquiry.

“I had it removed,” she replied, animosity in her tone.

Well, no shit
. I’d noticed my jewelry wasn’t there the night before but was too afraid to ask for fear my own piercings would be torn from my body. I didn’t probe her to elaborate. It was an immature stunt I shouldn’t have pulled in the first place, at least without her permission.

“You think I’m aroused because I believe appropriate attire during breakfast should be worn?” She laughed loudly. “To be honest, everything about you makes it hard to pay attention. As beautiful as you are, give a girl a break and put on a shirt. And as long as I’m being brutally honest, you weren’t lying. You are the lord of pancakes. These are really incredible, even though I’m so hungry I would have eaten the box.”

“No more lies between us, Ellery. That promise began before my declaration of chef de cuisine pancake maker. What I said to you this morning was true. I want you to forgive me because I need you.”

I knew by her expression her brain was conflicted. And as long as she had doubts, I saw it as an opportunity to change her mind. I’d always gotten what I wanted. I had to fight for very little; it had always been handed to me. I was born with the proverbial silver spoon. Even when my mother and I were exiled to Paris without a true source of income, I was the golden teenager there. My looks carried me. Then came my artistry. The lesson no one had bothered to teach me was sometimes you have to sacrifice one thing in order to get another. That anything worth having is worth fighting for. My mother had gotten sick and died before she could pass on that pivotal message.

For the first time in twenty-four years, I was going to have to fight. And not out of malice or revenge, but because this woman was the only thing I truly wanted. The only other human being I’d ever cared about was my mother. Our age difference would have been irrelevant to her because she’d always known the ways of her self-absorbed son. She would have been able to see the clarity in my eyes. She would have noticed how my step was lighter because I no longer felt burdened by my past. That somehow Ellery had alleviated so much of the pain that had been slowly consuming me for years. Had my mother lived, I could have shared this significant milestone in my life.

I pushed away my plate and got up. I quickly went to my room and pulled a shirt over my head, then walked back into the dining room.

“Better?” I asked, modeling the shirt.

She examined me carefully. It almost made me uncomfortable the way she was looking. Once I was satisfied she had her fill, I sat down to finish my breakfast.

“I spoke to Preston while you were upstairs taking a bath. He’s having the updated paperwork sent over by courier later today.”

Ellery appeared generally shocked. I assumed she thought my pledge was bullshit. Once we both signed it, I prayed my version of a peace offering would be enough for her to believe I was vowing the truth.

“I wasn’t expecting it to happen so soon.”

“Okay, admit it. You thought I’d reneged on what I said last night.” I drank the last of my juice as I swallowed my pancake.

“I didn’t really know. People say a lot of things when they’re in the throes of passion.”

“We were in the throes, really and truly. I guess I am a master, then, because I was able to conduct business with just one hand. I’m magnificent,” I quipped.

“Whatever—you know what I mean,” she said as she smacked me with her hand.

With a quick reflex, I grabbed it and held it. It was warm and soft. I pulled her close to me and brushed her lips against mine. I teased until she opened slightly and I was able to delve inside. Our tongues entwined as I continued to explore every inch. I wanted it to be slow and lazy. The taste of her on my mouth made my cock perk up and take interest. Our breathing became labored as I broke away.

“It’s quite a challenge to just kiss, because when I do, every nerve in my body wants to fuck you. Yeah, basically, I’m in the throes of passion whenever I’m around you.” I snickered as I collected our plates.

She laughed loudly, then sucker punched me in the stomach. “Jesus, I’m sorry I even said that. You’ll never hear that from me again.”

She followed me in the kitchen, carrying the silverware and glasses. Once the dishwasher was loaded, we retired to the den. She had mentioned watching a movie in the home theatre. I suggested going out. She squashed that idea immediately. I doubted we’d ever have a public appearance together. I knew what she was thinking. She was terrified what the press would think if they found out about us. It wouldn’t matter if it were Kieran Wick or the artist Wicked; both would have social tongues wagging. I understood her reasons, but it didn’t make me feel any better. I’d spent many years hiding behind a confidential persona because I wanted to, but this felt different. I didn’t want to be a secret she swept under a rug.

I could tell she was tired. I didn’t want her staying awake because she thought I needed company. “You look worn out. I won’t be offended if you want to go take a nap. I’ll hang out down here and wait for our delivery.”

She began to pad toward the stairs. “If you’re sure. I thought a bath and food would wake me up me, but I’m more exhausted now than before.” She yawned.

“I’ll see you later.” I prodded her up the stairs.

Once I heard her door close, I rushed to my makeshift studio. I wanted to work on her full-body portrait. I had many more features to add now. I decided oils weren’t right for it. What I really wanted to do was a pencil and chalk drawing. I hadn’t done one in seven years. But Ellery inspired me. I was obligated to draw her. The shape of her face and body were exquisite.

I stared at the outline I’d sketched earlier. It was all wrong. I’d used a photograph of her and my father. The lips were incorrect, along with the eyes. Capturing true, defined beauty was difficult because it took an actual vision. My erotic art was in my head; it didn’t take the work required to paint realism.

I gathered my pad and some other supplies. I wanted to wait until she fell asleep. I wanted her relaxed and unaware. This would be the most important piece I’d ever painted because it might end up being the only memento I’d have after she left me.

Ellery

I woke up to a constant scratching. I’d been hearing it for the last twenty minutes. I kept my eyes closed, hoping whatever it was would go away.

My body became aware he was close as his scent filled the room. I blinked several times before focusing on him. He had stretched out on my day lounge, still in sweats. He’d removed his shirt again and tossed it on the floor, along with assorted art supplies. He was wearing thick-framed glasses as he worked, making him look like some Ivy League professor. Sex education no doubt. His fingertips were blackened from what I assumed was charcoal. Whatever the drawing was, it captured his attention intensely. The sound I heard was him furiously sketching.

His prominent green eyes caught mine and flashed me a wink. “Did I wake you?” he asked, still rubbing and drawing.

I yawned and stretched out my toes on my bed. “I thought I had mice. That constant scratching.” I laughed.

“Nope, just me, Wicked the artist, working on my next
chef d’oeuvre
.”

“So I am your subject for this masterpiece?”

He put down his pencil and removed his glasses. “You speak French? I never knew that.”

I sat up and placed two pillows behind me for support. “We never talked, Kieran. We just battled.” I stopped and let my eyes appraise him. I wished I had talent, because drawing something as gorgeous as him would be my greatest achievement. “I’m not fluent. I took French and German in college, hoping it would help me get by if I ever had the chance to go abroad and visit all the art museums. But that never happened. It was just another pipedream of mine.”

“You should come to Paris. The city would love you. The galleries are the best in the world.”

I stayed mute because I had no idea how to respond to that remark. Was he alluding to me going home with him, or had it just been a blanket statement?

“What have you been drawing?”

“You. Your face intrigued me the first night. And now I’m thinking I want to paint your entire body. Although, I’m not sure I’ll be able to portray your spirit one hundred percent.”

“Oh God, don’t waste your time on me. Your talent lies in erotic pieces. I’d much rather be privy to one of those.” I blushed.

“Nothing has truly inspired me in a very long time. Reproducing your beauty on canvas is a task I gladly undertake. Besides, it’s not for public consumption. It’s for me. I want to be able to stare into those jewel-colored blue eyes and have instant recall regarding your taste and the feel of your body. I never want to forget.” He picked up two pieces of chalk. “Besides, you’ve already seen my best erotic works in person. You’ve been up close and quite personal with my cock.”

I pulled the sheet over my head and mumbled. “Stop. Please. I could die I’m so embarrassed.”

“Okay, okay… I’ll tell you the truth. You haven’t seen my best work yet, but you will. Can you take off your clothes for me?”

The request sounded casual, not sexual. I pulled my head out from underneath the sheet and looked at him questionably.

“It’s for the sketch, Elle. It’s called research,” he mused, putting his glasses back on.

I flung the sheet off me, and I suddenly felt nervous. He’d never called me by my nickname. That was reserved for friends. We might have fucked, but being friends… that was too personal. It would require time.

“You called me Elle. You’ve never called me anything but Ellery.”
Among other things, like gold-digging bitch and home-wrecking whore
. “No one but my friends calls me that, and I think we have miles to go until we’re at that stage,” I hissed nervously.

“Good God, calm the fuck down. Let me explain before you condemn me, believing I’m still
that
man, the one you despised. It’s not what you think.” He stopped abruptly as he tossed the chalk and placed his pad face down on his lap.

“While you were asleep, your phone was blowing up. I finally snuck a peek, and you had close to thirty text messages from Coco. I assume she’s your best friend. She sounded worried about you, so I called her.”

My eyes opened wide as my jaw dropped. He had called her? Oh shit. Did he mention last night? Because I was sure she thought I’d never go through with it. I groaned loudly. I’d planned to do it silently, but he heard it.

“I had to call her. I was concerned if I sent her a text, she would think I was holding you hostage. Somewhat funny, considering I was the one in cuffs. Anyway, I thought she might call the police, so I had no choice.”

I got out of bed and began to pace. “What did you tell her? Crap. I should have called her this morning. She probably thinks you murdered me.”

He flashed me a mocking smile. “So let me guess. She knows all about my elegant personality. You told her everything?”

I nodded reluctantly, but it felt like a betrayal of sorts. “She knows who you really are. Both identities.” Now it was my turn to hear him groan. I could see a small ticking in his cheek as he looked up at the ceiling while shaking his head.

“Can she be trusted, or do I have to get my checkbook? I can get Preston to pay for her silence.” Shock riddled my face as I stared at him in disbelief. “What? I’m used to it. I’m always careful as hell, but sometimes a rag mag will track me down and snap a photo. I could never take a chance of someone finding out the truth of who I really was, so when it happens, it’s an instant payday for him or her. They receive money and I get the footage. This is my life. Sometimes you have to pay for anonymity.”

“Not with Coco, not with her. She would never betray a confidence. You’re an art god to her as Wicked—but as far as you being Kieran Wick… Let’s just say the verdict is still out.” I glared at him, annoyed. I didn’t have the heart to tell him my bestie referred to him as Satan.

“Very funny,” he said as he picked up his shirt and threw it at me. I caught it and placed it on the bed.

“I owed her. I kept so much from her before. I never confided in her about Hartman. When he died, she expected us to get the gallery along with enough money to secure our future with Salacity. Your appearance and actions forced me to tell her the truth, most of it anyway. I’m not sure she could handle the truly dark shit. What it boiled down to is I had to explain to her why I married Hartman and who you were.”

“So I gather she hates me?” he said rather nonchalantly, as if he were used to the reaction.

I walked over to him and combed my fingers through his hair. “She doesn’t know you, so I think hate would be too strong of a word. She respects you as Wicked but has concerns about you being Hartman’s son. She’s afraid for me.” I moved back to my bed and sat on the edge.

“That’s actually kind of amusing, considering everything that happened last night. She doesn’t have to worry. That part of me is finished. I don’t want to be that man anymore. I’ll never allow pain of any kind to touch you again. I need you to believe me so you can make her believe it.”

“I want to trust you, but for me, it has to be earned. I can’t just give it. You expect me to forget everything you’ve said and done. My God, you violated me. I woke up with a piercing. Do you understand how many times your words and actions reminded me of your father? I want to give you the benefit of the doubt, but it’s not going to be easy.”

“I get it. I’ve hurt you. I’ve done and said unforgivable things. I don’t expect you to forget, but please, I am begging you. Forgive me. I know now my father tortured you. The Wick name is scum. But give me time, I’ll prove it to you. I don’t want you to have any doubts in me or us. I want to be your friend. I want to earn the privilege to call you Elle.”

He wanted to be together; he believed there could be an
us
. This news should have left me overjoyed—if I wasn’t older and his last name wasn’t Wick. Our beginning had been tempestuous, the middle passionate, and the end frightened me because the thought of never seeing him again left me cold and desolate.

“I want total transparency between us. I will tell you everything—ask me anything—but I need you to do the same. I have to know what my father did to you. I need to hear it.”

My body shook as tears prickled my eyes. I tried blinking them back, but one got away and trickled down my cheek. “I never even wanted Coco to know about that. If she knew, it would destroy her.” I choked back a sob.

Kieran got up and tossed the pad facedown, then walked over to me. His arms circled around me as he sat. “Let me be your friend, Elle, even if I haven’t earned the right yet. Let it be my shoulder on which you unburden yourself. It’s nothing I want to hear, but I think you need to share it with me.”

“You have to understand how much I admired and respected your father in the beginning. He was like a mentor to me in all aspects of my life. We shared the love of art. We enjoyed each other’s company. He didn’t even kiss me for two years. I knew there was something off about him. I would hear chatter at work regarding his sex life, but I assumed it was just water cooler gossip. You know how women are. When he confessed he was ill, it caught me off guard. I mean, we saw each other for two years, but it was totally a platonic relationship. To be frank, I’d wanted more, but I never forced the issue. I just assumed he wanted me as a companion, not as a lover.

“He made a strong argument why I should marry him. It became all about protecting his assets so he could take care of me. I believed him. God help me. Somewhere deep inside, I knew all of it was wrong, but I did it anyway. It was never about the money, really, but the gallery, which was an opportunity to have my dream fulfilled. Your father paid for Salacity. Sure, my name was on the deed, but, in reality, he owned it and me. Coco and I had worked all of our lives with this as our goal. I wanted to secure our future. So I sold my soul to the devil.”

Embarrassment flooded my cheeks as I began recounting specific personal details. Kieran didn’t comment, but squeezed my hand occasionally to let me know he was there for me.

I stared at the carpet as tears began to choke my voice. “We never had sex… not the traditional kind. He only enjoyed oral and anal.” As he held my hand, I could feel it tighten as anger rolled off him in waves. “Seven times—I sold myself. He brutalized me. I always tried to rationalize his behavior because he was dying, yet he appeared lucid when he raped me.” I stopped to swallow a sob as my voice got very quiet. “Sometimes he used other things besides his cock to penetrate me.”

Kieran dropped my hand as his jaw clenched, and I saw thunderous rage flicker across his face. He sprang off the bed and went directly into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. I heard the faucet come on. He was trying to stifle his reaction. But I could hear him as he howled in muffled anguish. I stayed seated on the bed for at least twenty minutes. What I confessed changed everything.

What he must think of me, among everything else I’ve done,
I thought as I hung my head in humiliation.

He finally came out, his eyes reddened in despair. He appeared broken as he sat next to me.

“I should have never forced you to do anything. I’m no better than he was. You were right; I made you relive it all by becoming just like him. I’m a monster, too. God, there are no words I can say that would make this better. If I had the power, I would wish those years away for you. Just the thought that he fathered me makes me want to end my life. I want so much to transfuse his blood from my veins and be someone else.”

It was my turn to comfort him. Regardless of the fiend he’d known his father was, I just put the final nail in Hartman’s coffin. His son might never get past this. Hell, I wasn’t sure if I could, and we weren’t even blood.

“You’ll never be him. It’s not possible. As of today, whatever you were is now part of the past. Whatever happened before doesn’t have to define your future. You have the ability to channel your anger elsewhere, into your art.”

“I need you to go and get checked out by a doctor,” he blurted out, his expression disconcerted.

His request was odd and off the cuff. Exactly how did this fit into our present conversation? His expression was unsettling.

“What? Why would you ask me to do that that? I’m confused.”

“He killed my mother.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“No, Kieran, that’s not possible. Your father was many horrible things, but he wouldn’t murder anyone, let alone your mother.”