Bound Beneath His Pain (Dirty Little Secrets 1)

I simply don’t want to hear it, moving to the mirror on the wall, a thousand-pound weight on my chest. The air is heavy and thick as I give my hair a quick style, hearing no sounds around me. I’ve always handled the silence before. Now it unnerves me. Ghosts are haunting me, and I’m alone in this house I can’t stand.

“Don’t fuck it up.”

I glance over my shoulder, finding Levi’s gaze unfocused. My lips part, but he raises his hands, stopping me. “You’re going to listen to what I have to say.” The glare he’s giving me leaves no room for argument, and I begrudgingly shut my mouth as he goes on. “In the time I’ve seen you with Allie, for even the fleeting moment you had together, I thought…” His voice cracks, eyes warm. “I thought I had seen the man you might have been if your mother never passed away. You were happy. Truly content. Allie is the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” The warmth leaves his eyes; the strength returning just that easily. “It’s time to start living in the shadow of your mother, not in what your father tried to make you.” He slaps his hand against the doorframe before addressing me again. “Stop working all the time. You’re rich enough. Get married. Have a couple of kids. Make some goddamn memories to warm up this fucking cold and empty house. Hear what I’m saying, because you won’t recover from her.” He points his finger at me, glaring. “Don’t fuck it up.”

A wave of heat storms against me and I blink, finding Levi gone. My spinning head is now somersaulting around me and I’ve never wanted out of my skin so badly. Levi’s words touch something inside of me that I don’t know. I can’t even sort through how they’ve affected me. Each step I take from the bedroom sends me spiraling deeper into the unknown. I’m not sure what to do next, or how I should act, all I know is I need to face the man waiting for me downstairs.

My throat is so damn tight as I’m heading down the curved staircase, making my way to the library. The only sound is of my bare feet tapping against the floor as I enter the rectangular room, discovering Darius standing near the bay window.

Books, which all had belonged to my mother, line the walls. She’d been a faithful reader during her life, and my father never changed this room after she died. I hadn’t either. She picked the furniture and she touched every book, only reminding me how even if the room never changed, my life had taken a 360-degree turn.

Once, the house had been full of love, happiness, and laughter. Then the ghosts moved in and so did the chill in the air.

The floorboards creak beneath my foot, and Darius turns to me. His gaze rakes me from head to toe before his eyebrows lift. “You look a step away from walking into your grave.”

“I feel like I’ve already taken the final step in.” I move to the faded leather wingback chair and drop into it, preparing myself for Darius’s lashing.

He leaves the window and sits in the seat opposite me, near the black leather chaise my mother used to read on. “Allison stopped by my house this morning.” I can only imagine what she told him. I have to force my shoulders not to hunch when he adds, “Explain to me what happened between you.”

“She knows the truth” is all I have to say.

He frowns. “You told her everything?”

“I didn’t tell her anything. Juliet mistakenly told her”—I pause, gritting my teeth—“what we do.”

Darius holds my stare for a few seconds then his expression softens. “When Allison spoke to me this morning, I didn’t get the feeling that she’s upset with you. Sad, yes. Angry, no.”

“It’s a moot point,” I shoot back at him, thrusting a hand through my damp hair. “This is better for her in the long run. And you know it.”

Silence stretches between us, Darius’s stern eyes on mine. Until he shakes his head with a dry laugh. “I told you if you hurt her I would lay you out.” I bow my head, staring at my bare feet, listening to Darius continue. “But I think you’re beating yourself up enough already.” He rises, moving to my side, cupping my shoulder. “Some advice on my sister.” I raise my head, stunned by his warm regard. “She loves in a way that exceeds reason. Her heart has room for so much. But she deserves a man who honors that about her, not fears it.”

I freeze at his words, wondering why he’s no

t pounding me into the ground, when he adds, “One chance. That’s all you get to love someone in the best way you can. And who knows for how long you’ll be given that right.” The strain on his face and the tight nature of his mouth leave me with the feeling he’s speaking from experience. “You think that you’re protecting her from you, because you’re afraid she can’t accept you and you’ll hurt her, but you can choose another way. You can choose to make her happy.” He squeezes my shoulder again, and warmth seeps from his touch. “I have walked the path you walk now. I have met this exact crossroad.” His sigh speaks of a pain I understand on a deep level, and I see that darkness in the depth of his eyes, too. “Believe me, the torment you feel now will be incomparable to the torment you’ll feel when you regret her.” He steps back and pulls two pieces of paper from his pocket, handing them to me.

I’m fighting the tremble of my hand when I watch him leave, and when I look down at the papers in my hands, I lose that battle. The name in the corner of the check gets my attention first: Allison Parker. The million-dollar amount gifted to Holt’s Hope also isn’t lost to me.

I open the folded sticky note around the check, and with Levi’s and Darius’s advice on my mind, everything I know—everything I am—shatters, breaking apart, until my eyes grow wet as I read Allie’s handwriting.

This is who you are.

Choose us.

Don’t make me wait too long.

Love, Allie

Allie

Under the starry sky, I’m staring at the glowing sign, Lace, above the doorway at the local historic armory in the Mission District. From what I learned on Lace’s website, the location is also rented by a porn company that shoots its films here. So not only is the public allowed to come in and have tours of the sets, but at night the decorated theme rooms are used by the members of Lace, who partake in all types of sexual fantasies. I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing here, I only know there’s still something I don’t know about Micah, and it feels like I’ll find those answers here.

Done with sitting around and waiting for him to come to his senses, I approach the bouncer, standing in front of the wrought-iron door. His tailored suit tells me this club is upper-class and not some shady place tucked away in a back alley.

When I reach the wide-shouldered, dark-haired bouncer, he gives me a very thorough once-over before his amused eyes lift to mine. “I take it you want a tour?”

Part of me wants to be insulted that I look so innocent I couldn’t possibly be a member. The other part of me knows that within these walls, surrounded by these uninhibited people, I imagine I’m nearly virgin-like in their eyes. “I’ll start with a tour,” I tell him.

He smirks, dark eyes roaming me again from head to toe. “You’re interested in possibly gaining membership, then?”