Dirty Secrets (Get Dirty 4)

I will admit that I want her protected, but not in a cage. Or at least not a restricting one. I want her to realize that the cage I want to offer her is the same wildlife preserve that I live in, a place where she can be all she dreams of, safely free in her wild chaos.

I want her to soar and test her limits. I want her to be my queen.

An image of the chess set I gifted her falling to the floor at her feet flashes through my mind, a lance of pain in its wake. I’ve wondered too often if any of the pieces were broken, and if they were, what it means to my heart.

With a forced breath, I return to the moment, here and now, watching my Allison dance. I could do this all day, every day. Her grace and elegance astound me and make me see beauty in function, light in the dark.

But Logan is correct. Allie has lost weight, which concerns me. The shadows under her eyes are well-disguised with stage makeup, but I can see the weariness on her.

She hasn’t looked up yet. I know because I purposefully left one window clear so that she could see me watching, a symbol of the transparency she wishes for between us. It’s a small gesture, but she’ll understand.

It’s not until the end, as she’s almost off-stage, that she looks up and our eyes meet. My heart stops at the pain I see in her expression. I hate that I put it there and wish that she would let me soothe it away and take care of her.

But I don’t know how to compromise on this, balancing the risks to her life over her discomfort with being kept safe. And as much as I hate to admit it, she wasn’t able to handle the truth of my life and how pervasive my love for her has become. I’d known she wasn’t ready, but I’d truly hoped that we’d get there one day soon. But fate had forced my hand.

I lift the tumbler of scotch and swallow my drink in one gulp, the taste smooth on the jagged shards inside me, before turning away. I hit a switch, and the windows blacken to their normal matte exterior finish, leaving me in nearly soundproofed privacy.

I sit in contemplation, knowing she’s in the building, so close but unattainable, at least for now. I want to rush down there, to throw everyone out my way and reclaim her, remind her that she’s mine. But I don’t move a muscle, forcing myself to stay in my chair, gripping the low armrests to ground myself.

When my phone buzzes, I almost jump, lost in my own thoughts of how to right things with Allison, to get her to return to my side. Glancing down at the lit screen, I see Logan’s name and just two words, but my heart stops.

She’s coming.

I glance up to the security displays and see Allie on the stairs, coming to my office. I consider whether I should turn the monitors off, not wanting to put salt in the wound, but I decide against it. She must know that this is the truth of me, of my life.

Even my own home is bugged. If she is to share this life with me, she must accept that reality. It’s a big nature park, but it’s still restricted.

Her knock is soft and tentative, which hurts, ironically. Part of me wishes she would have just kicked in the door and started kicking ass. That she is hesitant, maybe even fearful of me, is a jolt to my soul.

“Come in,” I reply, my voice steady even as my heart races. I have sat at the table with the biggest, baddest men in the underworld, have killed in cold blood for nothing more than my family name, and am by all accounts a scarily icy opponent in any conflict, but this woman is my complete undoing.

She has reduced me to weakness, pierced all my defenses, and left me teetering on the edge of oblivion even as she’s worn herself down the same way.

Shakespeare’s infamous quote skitters across my mind. Though she be but little, she is fierce.

And my Allison is fierce, strong enough to stand at my side but also strong enough to stand against me and bring me to my knees. A worthier opponent I could never find, but also a more brilliant ally does not exist.

She closes the door behind her, coming to stand before me with her shoulders back, prepared for battle. She still has on the somewhat smeared remains of her makeup. Even stage makeup cannot withstand the amount of hard work she’s been doing, and her mussed hair flows over her shoulders in battle snarls. If I were a betting man, I’d wager her sexy red lingerie is underneath the oversized black sweats she’s currently wearing.