Fallen Rose by Amelia Wilde
Chapter Sixteen
Leo
I’m in my office planning a party for a Constantine when the text arrives. The last of the daylight is fading in the courtyard. A bird from the trees taps at my window. “There’s new birdseed,” I tell it, though it can’t hear me. “Go away.”
It flutters off the sill as I pick up my phone.
A message from Eva.
Turn on the TV—channel 9
I loathe the sound of live TV and rarely require background noise to work, so I don’t have one in my office. There’s one in the den. It spends most of its time hidden by a panel above the fireplace. “Gerard,” I say as I open it. I know he’s nearby. I heard him in the hall.
“Sir?”
“Is Haley upstairs?”
“She is.”
She went up to read an hour ago. Some days, she prefers the smaller space and the deeper quiet in the private library. I wasn’t fucking around about my plans for the room on the first floor, but I haven’t had time for full-scale renovation yet.
Gerard steps into the den as the TV flickers to life. Channel 9.
It’s a news channel. And a news broadcast. And a very familiar face. The chyron at the bottom of the screen reads KIDNAPPED CONSTANTINE BRIDE.
“What the fuck.”
Rick stands on the sidewalk in front of the Constantine compound, camera lights competing with the dying sun. He has one hand in the pocket of what looks like a brand-new overcoat and a fading black eye from where I punched him. The other hand clutches a piece of paper.
“—engagement announcement was a painful day for the family. In all the confusion, no one thought to stop it from being printed. But Haley had already been taken. I’m here to ask for her safe return.” His eyes come up to the camera, and he takes a big nervous breath. I hate this motherfucker. He’s right to be nervous. “I’m so worried. We’re obviously—we’re offering a reward for her safe return.”
“When did you last see her?” one of the reporters calls. A press conference. Caroline planned this. Every detail. It’s not just that she wants him to kill me. She wants to set it up first.
“I haven’t seen her in almost two weeks.” This is the truth, and my stomach sinks. They’re going to run the same play as before. The one that made Haley cry. They said things that were close to the truth. Rick Joseph Jr. is going to stand on live TV and tie the truth in knots. “I was attacked, and she was taken.”
Fucking clever. He was attacked, and then I took her back. Gerard makes a sound off to my side. I can’t see him. My vision is going dark with rage, and if I’m honest, if I am fucking honest, if I am doing penance and opening my goddamn heart—
Fear, too.
“Do you know where she’s being held?”
“No,” Rick lies, and he’s almost convincing in this. “I didn’t get a good look at my attacker and I don’t know where Haley is.” He swallows hard and looks directly into the camera. “If anyone watching this has any information about her whereabouts, please call the Bishop’s Landing sheriff’s office. I—” He holds a gloved fist to his mouth. “I’m begging you. If you have her, please return her to us. She needs to be with her family. Haley is a sweet person who only—who only deserves the best. And if you’ve seen her, don’t wait to call. Every second counts.”
A photo of Haley flashes up on the screen. It’s her college ID. In the photo, she’s wearing a dove gray shirt and grinning like whoever took the photo told her a joke.
“Is there anything else you can tell us about her, Rick?”
He consults the paper in his hand. “She was last seen wearing a white nightgown. She’s five foot three, slim, with blonde hair. She has beautiful blonde hair. And she—she always loved to read.” Rick chokes out the last few words. The wail he lets out next is the highlight of his performance.
I yank a hardcover off the nearest shelf and throw it at the TV. It splinters the screen, turning Rick’s face into shattered glass. Another book. It hurtles through the air. This time, the circuitry shorts. I can’t breathe. I can’t see. I want my hands around his neck again. I would make the right choice this time. I would end this. I don’t know I’ve thrown another book until it bangs against the windowsill. A framed print that Daphne gave me falls. More glass breaks. I want more broken glass. I want more destruction. I draw back a fist, aiming for the window, and someone catches it.
“Enough. Enough.”
“It’s not fucking enough,” I spit at Gerard, shaking his hand off mine. He doesn’t accept this. He locks his arm around mine and pulls me back from the window. My back screams. “You saw. I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“We’ll figure out a strategy.” I try to lunge past him, and he blocks me. “You have bulletproof windows. Mr. Morelli. Leo. Your hand will break before the windows, and you won’t be able to help Haley.”
I shove him one more time, but he’s right. God, fuck, I hate that he’s right. The red clears from my vision. My breathing slows. The pain doesn’t budge. It won’t. It’s never going to stop. I’m going to be in hell forever. Penance forever. I cover my face with both hands, intensely aware of Gerard’s eyes on me. I never fucking do this in front of people.
It takes too long to drag them back down.
When I do, Gerard’s expression is neutral. The rest of him is not. He’s poised to stop me from destroying my own home. From destroying myself. He might not have a choice, in the end, if Caroline won’t leave Haley alone.
“I want to call in the second team,” I tell him. He pulls out his phone without hesitation. “I want every shift doubled. Nobody is getting in here. Call my legal team and have them on standby. They’re going to stand at the door if that piece of shit sends the cops.”
“What else can I do?”
Help me. Fucking help me. Find a way out of this.
“Just do your job. Keep them out.”
I leave Gerard in the den and go to find Haley. My heart pounds. It’s been set with needles and every one of them digs in with every beat. She’s curled up with her fantasy book again, Jane Eyre waiting in reserve, and I hate that I’m going to ruin this moment for her.
At the expression on my face, she scrambles up from her chair and comes to me. “What’s wrong?”
I do not and will not ever deserve this woman, this angel, who puts her arms around me with infinite care. She does touch my scars now, since the day in the study. It’s always the lightest pressure. I’m a selfish bastard, so I let myself hold her for a minute before I answer.
“I got a text from Eva.” Haley lifts her head from my chest and looks into my eyes. “Telling me to turn on the TV. Caroline sent Rick to do a press conference.”
Her brow furrows. “What does that even mean?”
“She called in a bunch of reporters for him to make a statement about you on the air.”
The color disappears from her face. “About the engagement?”
“No.” I run my fingers through her hair. It’s soft, and beautiful, and I hate that Rick talked about it like it belonged to him. “He announced that you’d been kidnapped and that your family is offering a reward for your return.”
Haley slips out of my arms, her hand to her mouth, and paces away. “A reward,” she murmurs. “A reward. She’s crazy.” She stops at the table and brushes her fingertips over the cover of Jane Eyre, then moves to the window. Her shoulders go up and up and up. Haley leans over the windowsill.
She’s holding her breath.
This is worse than outright crying. Her shoulders shake, but she presses both hands over her mouth. “I just—” A frustrated inhale. “I just—why?” Her eyes, made brighter by her tears, land on mine. “Why are they doing this?”
I go and sit on the windowsill. Pull her between my legs. Take her face in my hands. Her lips tremble, but she takes another long breath. I know she’s tired of crying. It’s not a release for her now. Not unless I’m making her do it. “They’re trying to get to you.”
This is almost the truth. They’re trying to get to me. And it’s working.
“Should I—” Her hands come up to mine, as if she’s afraid I might let go. Fuck letting go. “Should I just go back? Should I just go back home?”
“Absolutely fucking not, darling.”
Her breath is coming faster. Ratcheting up into panic. “How does this end, Leo? When? Do I need to call the press? The police?”
“Not yet.” Not ever. None of those people will help the situation. No matter what Haley thinks I am, I’m the Beast of Bishop’s Landing to the rest of the world. The press will only take Haley’s words as evidence that I’ve brainwashed her, and the police are fucking useless. “I’ll figure it out.”
Haley doesn’t believe me. I can see it in her eyes.
I put a hand around her throat.
There.
Her shoulders relax. So do her hands on mine. The rest of her body goes pliant and waiting, her breathing settling, and this—this is a fucking miracle. That she’s like this for me. That she walks the earth and isn’t afraid of me. Or that she is, but it’s a trustworthy fear. She knows I’ll only exploit it to make her hot. To make her wet.
To make her calm.
“I’ll figure it out.”
Her lips part, and she blinks back tears. The tip of her tongue wets her bottom lip. “Do you promise?”
I kiss her first. Squeeze her neck until she gasps in my mouth. I’ll mark this promise on her. I’ll keep it. No matter the cost. I’ll ask for help, if that’s what I have to do. I’ll admit weakness. I’ll call in reinforcements. Anything. “I promise.” The color has come back to her cheeks. I knew it would. She can’t help but respond to me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was sent. A gift. “If I touch you now,” I muse, keeping my eyes on hers, “what will I find?”
Her face goes scarlet. “That I’m wet.”
I lean in and bite her earlobe. Haley arches in my hand. “Take off all your clothes and bend over the bed. Don’t make me wait.”
