10
STELLA
I PACED OUTSIDE THE STUDY, ears strained for any sound of pain, but all I could hear were low male voices, too quiet for me to pick out the words.
Having Theo here was a mistake. Possibly the second biggest one I’d ever made. Which was saying something, since the first had been so bad it had altered the entire trajectory of several people’s lives for the worse, including mine.
Finally, the study door cracked open, and Theo stepped out. Behind him, I caught sight of Blake, sitting in an armchair, clutching his side. His face was grim but resigned, like the fight had gone out of him.
“Blake,” I said.
He caught sight of me and nodded. “I’m okay.”
Theo pulled the door shut before I could ask if he was sure.
“I want to talk to my brother,” I said.
Theo slipped his arm around my waist. “He needs some time alone with
his thoughts.”
“What did you say to him?” I demanded.
“That’s between me and your brother,” he answered, his voice laced with warning as he turned us toward the hall.
A squeeze at my waist punctuated the words, and I fought back a wave of nausea that had as much to do with his proximity as it did my gastritis. I wanted to wrench myself away from Theo and scrub my skin raw from his touch, but unfortunately that wasn’t an option. Someone could come around the corner at any second, and shoving him away didn’t exactly give “loved up” vibes.
God, he’d moved so fast when Blake tried to hit him. Too fast. I’d thought I was aware of the danger I was in, but that split second had driven home how precarious my safety was. Sure, I knew how to throw a punch,
knew the basics of self-defense, but it was obvious Theo hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said I would try to hit him, and if the past five minutes had taught me anything, it was that I’d never be able to keep him off me if he decided to do me harm.
My mind drifted back to that night in the tattoo parlor, him leaning close and telling me I was safe. Lie. I was far from safe, and suddenly so scared of being alone with him that I was desperate to rejoin the crowd of odious people outside. Since Theo seemed hell-bent on pulling off this little deception, I was hoping it meant he wasn’t a danger to me while we were around others. That there was safety in numbers.
New life goal: never be alone with him again.
Our footfalls echoed over the marble floor as we walked. The silence between us was stilted and awkward, but I wasn’t about to break it. I was too preoccupied with my swirling thoughts and my anger that he’d laid hands on my brother. I was also furious with myself. I’d done nothing to intervene. I’d just stood there, watching the altercation unfold. I tried to excuse my inaction as shock—the violence had come out of nowhere and caught me off guard—but the ugly truth was that I’d never faced a real threat before, and my instinct had been to curl up and hide to avoid
becoming Theo’s next target.
Guess I wasn’t as tough as I thought.
This newfound knowledge made me want to cry, made me feel small and vulnerable in a way I hadn’t experienced in years, but I fought back the sting of tears because I refused to show any more weakness around this man. From now on, I’d play my part in public, but in private? He’d get nothing from me.
As we neared the mouth of the hall, Theo tightened his hold on my waist, leaning down just enough to whisper, “You’ve stiffened up again.”
“Gee, I wonder why?”
A tug on my waist, and I was spinning toward the wall just like Blake had a few moments ago. The difference was I ended up with my back to it, one of Theo’s hands on my hip, the other braced above my head as he loomed over me. I immediately flashed back to the driveway and the way he’d pulled me close against the side of his car. The feel of his lips sliding up my neck. The way my body had reacted to his touch. I’d never felt so betrayed by it before.
And I swear to God, if you react now, it will be outright war between us, I threatened. Thankfully, it seemed like my brain and vagina were finally back on the same page, and that page contained a single sentence: We hate Theo Strickland.
He and I stood in the shadows thrown by a marble column, and the light and darkness playing across his eyes made his irises look like a storm- ravaged sea. Again, I froze, feeling like a hare staring up at a circling hawk.
Blake wasn’t small. He was nearly the same height as Theo and had played sports all his life, and yet Theo had manhandled him like a bear batting around a butterfly. Theo made violence look effortless, hadn’t even been breathing hard by the time it was over. I shuddered to think what he was capable of if he ever really put his energy into harming someone.
He must have seen my thoughts playing across my face because he let out a low, frustrated sound and leaned closer. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Maybe he meant for the words to be reassuring, but all I heard was another warning. “I don’t want you to hurt me either.”
He dropped his hand to my chin and tilted my head up. “Then don’t make me, Stella.”
God, that was a fucked-up sentence. One I couldn’t even begin to form a coherent response to because my survival instincts were finally kicking in, and his words made me want to run yelling to Mom and Dad, tell them everything that had happened and deal with the fallout of another scandal because it seemed better than being around this man for one more second.
His grip tightened, sensing my inner rebellion. “This doesn’t have to be hard. We smile, we flirt, we mingle with other people, and you work your way out of your debt. The better you do, the faster you’ll get rid of me.”
Get rid of him. Now there was a thought that held real merit. Maybe I could go back to my original plan of ending this sonofabitch. That would solve all my problems, and judging by his sparkling personality, I doubted anyone would care if he suddenly went missing. Or slipped into a coma after a traumatic head wound. Better yet, died in a fiery explosion.
He smirked. “Contemplating my death again?”
I tried to control my expression. “No.”
“Don’t bother lying. You get shark eyes whenever you picture yourself killing me.” He winked. “Or fucking me.”
“I do not picture myself fuck—”
“Oh, there you are,” came my mother’s voice. “I thought you’d gotten lost.”
I froze, panic racing through my veins. It was too late to back out now.
Too late to beg Theo to let me pay him off some other way. Mom had found us, which meant we were doing this, really doing this, about to pretend we didn’t hate each other in front of a crowd full of people who’d known me all my life. How was I going to convincingly fake attraction to a man whose touch made me want to vomit? I could practically see the impending disaster heading straight for me like a runaway train, but I was tied to the tracks. There was no escaping.
Theo straightened, turning toward my mom. “It was my fault,” he said, his voice more cultured than I’d ever heard it. The smile he sent her was full of charm, and his eyes shone like they held real warmth. “I wanted a moment alone with Stella before I was forced to share her with everyone else.” His gaze slid back to mine, the warmth in his eyes ratcheting up several degrees, like he couldn’t wait to get me alone again.
Don’t puke, don’t puke, don’t puke.
I stepped out from behind the marble column and forced myself to meet my mother’s inquisitive gaze head-on. “Mom, this is Theo, my,” oh-god-I- couldn’t-believe-I-was-saying-it, “boyfriend. Theo, this is my mother, Georgianna, but everyone calls her—”
“Georgie,” she said, shooting me a warning look.
“What’s that face for? I was going to say that.”
“Excuse me for not trusting you, but you did once introduce me as Bitchy McBitchface.”
“I was sixteen, and you had been acting like a—”
“Theo!” Mom said, interrupting me again as she extended a hand toward him. “So nice to make your acquaintance. I can’t remember the last time Stella brought a sweetheart home to meet the family.”
The last bit was said with a healthy dose of side-eye toward me. Because I had never introduced anyone to my family. I’d liked all my past partners too much to subject them to their scrutiny. Not that Mom was actually a bitch or anything. Well, at least, not an intentional one. She was just overprotective, had high standards, and even after all my troublemaking, no one was good enough for her daughter.
Theo gently took Mom’s hand. “I’m glad I made the cut.” They shook, and Theo made a show of glancing around. “You have a beautiful home.
Was that a Morisot I saw hanging back there?”
My jaw nearly dropped.
Mom looked pleased. “It was.”
“It’s a shame she’s not more well-known,” Theo said. “She’s always been one of my favorites.”
Mom slipped her arm through his and led him back down the hallway.
“Did Stella tell you the story of how we acquired it?”
Theo shook his head. “I’d love to hear it from you.”
“Well, twenty years ago, we spent a dusty summer in the south of France,” she began.
I tuned out the rest because I could recount it from memory. Berthe Marie Pauline Morisot was a French impressionist painter who wasn’t as celebrated as her male compatriots, despite her incredible talent. Married to the brother of the famed Édouard Manet, she struggled her whole career to be taken seriously as an artist, with most male critics patronizingly praising the “feminine charm” in her work. Both Mom and I loved her, and this painting, one of Morisot’s lesser-known works, was the crown jewel in my parents’ art collection. The fact that Theo recognized a Morisot painting that had never been recreated in print was unbelievable.
Literally.
The bastard must have done more spying on my family than I’d realized, and now I was worried at just how much he knew about us. About me.
I joined them by the painting.
“No,” Theo said, sounding appropriately shocked. “It was just sitting in the back of the gallery?”
“On the floor, if you can imagine, leaning against the wall in a neglected
corner of the room,” Mom told him.
“And they had no idea what they had?”
Mom shook her head. “We practically stole it from them. In our defense, we didn’t believe it was real at first. The bottom edge was so thick with dust that only the first few letters of her signature were visible, and even after we had it professionally restored, we thought surely it was a fake. Imagine our shock when one of her biographers told us it was the real deal. She’d found
a reference to it in one of Morisot’s diaries, and all the other analyses
confirmed her belief.”
“Incredible,” Theo said.
“And it’s hung here ever since,” I said, butting my way into their conversation. This little interaction made my hackles rise. I wanted Theo as far away from my mother as possible. I didn’t like how easily he’d ingratiated himself, or the smoothness of the upper-crust American accent he was using. His transition was almost as frightening as his outburst of violence, and it had me back to wondering who the hell this man was and what he was really after.
Taking a page out of Mom’s playbook, I slid my arm through his and tugged at him. “We should join the party.”
“Tippi will be so glad to see you,” Mom said. “I’ll be out in a moment. I just need to grab something from upstairs for Babs.”
We parted ways, my mind spinning as I led Theo away.
“How do you plan on convincing anyone we’re dating if you only let me have five seconds with them?” he whispered.
“Trust me, I was doing you a favor. My mother is incredibly observant.
The more time we spend around her, the more likely she’ll realize we hate each other.”
“Hate?” Theo said, and I could hear the grin in his voice without having to look up at him and confirm it. “Such a strong word.”
“Well, let me go after one of your family members, blackmail you, attack that same family member, and then force my way into your life. Then tell me how you feel.”
He shrugged. “Go ahead and try. I don’t have any family.”
“That explains a lot,” I muttered.
Unfortunately, he heard me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
He slowed his steps. “Say it, Stella.”
Fine. He really wanted to know? I’d tell him. “I was just thinking that it’s probably easy to be such a heartless bastard when you don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said, sounding like he wasn’t even insulted.
“I have friends, like anyone else.”
“Yeah, friends who are probably as fucked up as you are.”
For some reason, that made him chuckle. “Oh, Sunshine. You have no idea.”
Second life goal: never meet his friends.
Our conversation died as we reached the party. The rear rooms of the house had oversize windows to take advantage of the view over the rolling rear lawn and trees. Through them I saw a crowd of people gathered around a series of tables, umbrellas overhead to block the midday sun, fans blowing a gentle breeze to keep it cool. The patio was large, spilling downward in a series of terraces that eventually ended at the pool. I could tell from the shrieks and splashes echoing through the open bifold doors that the young guests were taking advantage of the water.
“Ah, welcome back,” Richard said, coming up beside us.
Theo’s grip on my waist tightened painfully before easing into a looser hold. Another warning? If so, I didn’t need it. I was finally well and truly afraid of what would happen if I got on his bad side, and I feared that even going to the cops wouldn’t keep him from getting his revenge on me.
“I had to go collect my boyfriend,” I said, the b-word rolling a little more easily off my tongue. “Richard, this is Theo. Theo, my parents’ business partner, Richard Lawson.”
Richard stepped forward with his hand extended toward Theo. They were almost the same height, and both blond, though Richard’s hair was mostly silver now. His skin was also a few shades darker, tanned from his recent trip to Italy, making his light blue eyes pop in the midday sun.
Between his well-preserved good looks and wealth, he was one of the most eligible bachelors in the city, but he hadn’t dated anyone in years, at least not that I knew of. We all assumed he was still recovering from the lingering heartbreak that had almost destroyed him a few decades ago.
“Nice to meet you, Theo,” he said.
Theo released his hold on me to shake the older man’s hand, his smile easy, gaze lasered in. “You, too, Richard.”
The men released each other, and Theo re-draped his arm around my waist like it belonged there. Richard had been part of my life since the day I was born. He was my godfather, and more like an uncle to me than any of my actual uncles. Aside from my family, he knew me better than anyone else at this party, and I needed to keep Theo moving before Richard picked up on my discomfort.
“Have you seen Tippi?” I asked. “I want to make sure Theo meets her before the food is served.”
Richard tipped his head toward the yard. “Last I saw, she and your dad were down on the lawn.”
“It was nice to meet you,” Theo said as I dragged him away.
“You, too,” Richard replied.
We greeted others as we wended our way toward the lawn, quick hellos and brief introductions mostly. Theo seemed to charm everyone immediately, and it only made me grumpier. All I could think about was the altercation in the study. Lurking behind his easy smiles and friendly banter, I saw something else: him pivoting, lightning-fast, driving the hand currently wrapped around my waist into my brother’s side. No hesitation.
No mercy.
Despite the summer heat, I shivered.
Finally we stepped onto the grass, and Theo pulled me closer. No one was near enough to overhear us, but he still dropped his voice. “Smile, Stella. It’s a beautiful day, we’re at a lavish party to celebrate some old broad’s birthday, and your brother still has all his fingers and toes.”
“For now,” I countered. “But I’m sure the next time I make you mad, you’ll threaten to cut off a few of them.”
“Not a bad idea,” he mused.
I snarled.
He chuckled, the sound low and antagonistic. “You know, for someone of your advanced years, you’re really easy to rile up.”
I stopped walking, wondering if I should be pissed or insulted. With Theo, I could never quite decide between the two. “I’m thirty-five.”
He stopped a step after me, turned, grinned. “You’re practically a cradle robber.”
“Oh, please,” I said, looking him over. “I can’t be that much older than
you.”
“Ten years, actually.”
What the fuck were they feeding these midwestern farm boys?
“So,” he continued, and I didn’t like the look in his eyes, “that means when you were my age, I was—”
I clamped a hand over his mouth to shut him up.
And then reality came crashing back in, and I realized who I’d shut up and immediately pulled my hand away. I was just about to force myself to apologize, no matter how unappealing the thought, when someone approached out of my periphery.
I turned to see my father, practically grinning ear to ear as he looked between the two of us. Unlike Mom, there was no deeper emotion hiding behind his smile, no guile in his gaze. He was just genuinely happy that I’d finally brought someone home to meet him. It was then that I realized how this interaction between Theo and I might look: like we were having some sort of cute little couple-y exchange, and it was all in good fun. Especially because of how wide Theo was smiling as he turned toward Dad.
“Mr. McCormick,” he said, offering to shake.
Dad shuddered, brown eyes creasing at the corners as he scrunched his befreckled nose. “Mr. McCormick was my father,” he said, gripping Theo’s hand. “Please, call me Phil.”
“Phil,” Theo said as they released each other. “Thank you so much for having me.” He turned to take in the scene. “This is quite a party.”
Dad’s smile softened. “It’s probably going to be Tippi’s last year with us, and we wanted to make sure the old girl was celebrated in style.”
“Don’t say that,” I chided him, dropping into a crouch as Tippi tottered over to us. Her rheumy eyes were fixed on me, and she picked up the pace a little, her tail starting to wag like she still had some life left in her yet.
“She’s going to live forever, aren’t you, girl?” I said, cupping her face and dropping a kiss on her forehead.
I heard a choking noise from overhead, and then Theo’s disbelieving voice. “Tippi is a dog?”
