A Million Dirty Secrets (Million Dollar Duet 1)

I’d won the drinking contest that night, but it had come at a very high price. That was my fault, but Delaine’s mother? That wasn’t anyone’s fault, especially not Delaine’s. She wasn’t a spoiled brat born with a silver spoon in her mouth who had no idea just how good she had it. She wasn’t a belligerent asshole who thought getting drunk and fucking everything that had a decent set of tits and a nice ass was the perfect recipe for a good time. So why was her price set so high?

I sighed and looked up toward the darkened clouds overhead. “Tell me what to do,” I said, throwing my hands up in desperation and sending the tequila sloshing around inside the bottle. At that exact moment the rain clouds above me decided to let go of the load they’d been carrying.

I had my answer. I had to let her go. She needed to be with her mother and father, which was a whole hell of a lot easier said than done. I tilted the bottle back again, but before the liquid fire could scorch my tongue, I pulled the bottle away and threw it over the grassy knoll to the left of the mausoleum. I watched it roll until it stopped at the bottom of the hill and emptied the majority of its contents onto the ground, but not all of it.

The symbolism made me guffaw like a madman. Delaine was the devil’s juice, capable of setting me on fire from the inside out. When I was around her, my mind was numb and my thoughts incoherent. And now she was free, but there would always be a small part of her that I would carry around with me. Because Delaine Talbot was not easy to get out of your system—at least, not mine.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t set her free.

~$~

I stayed there in the graveyard until well after the sun had set. It could have been hours after; I wasn’t really sure because time seemed to stop while I wallowed in my own guilt. I was freezing, and my ass and both legs were numb from not having moved from that spot on the bench. Thankfully, the rain had only lasted for about half an hour, and I was completely dry again.

I ignored my growling stomach, my parched mouth, and my incessantly ringing cell phone. People were looking for me. I knew it. And it was only a matter of time before Polly brought out the bloodhounds to track me down. But the one name that flashed across my caller ID that made me curious was Delaine’s.

Not gonna lie—I wanted to answer that damn call more than anything. I grabbed the phone on the first ring, stared at it through the second, and held it so hard through the third that I thought for sure I’d cracked the damn thing. But, I didn’t answer it. What in the hell would I have said?

So I hired a PI to check into your background, because I’m a nosy motherfucker who might have a slight tendency toward being a control freak … Damn it, she was going to be beyond pissed when she found out what I’d done. I’d guaran-fucking-tee it. And guess what I found out? That’s right. I know that you sold your body to pay for your dying mother’s heart transplant, but I’m going to keep fucking you regardless, because I’m sick and I need help—lots and lots of shock therapy to my dick might be just what the doctor ordered.

Yeah, that was so not going to happen.

My phone chimed the familiar notification that I had a text message, and I picked it up. A little flutter went through my chest when I saw that it was from Delaine, and before I knew it, I was opening the message. The digital clock told me that it was after ten o’clock already. Shit, had I been there that long?

Where r u? I’m all alone … in this big bed … naked.

My dick twitched in my pants at the image he and I both knew all too well. “Shut up. This mess we’re in is all your fault, you horny little motherfucker,” I scolded my lifelong friend.

Business meeting. Don’t wait up.

Bullshit. Talked to Polly, but glad ur alive. I’ll let her know.

Thank God she wasn’t going to push it further than that for the time being. Of course I was perfectly aware that when I had to actually face her, all bets were off. At least she’d get Polly off my back.

Going to sleep. Feel free to wake me when you get home. If you want. ;)

Oh, I wanted. But I wouldn’t.

I put my phone in my pocket and went back to staring at nothing at all. My mother’s ghost hadn’t appeared to smack me upside the head. My father’s ghost hadn’t come out to scold me for wasting good Cuervo or to tell me to get my shit together and stop acting liking an idiot. I hadn’t had some great epiphany, or made any kind of decision about what I was going to do. All in all, it was a wasted day and night.

I pulled my phone back out and called my uncle. Daniel was a cardiologist, the best in Chicago. Not only that, but he seemed to know everyone. Probably because he was a huge supporter of everything that had anything to do with medicine. Just like how he’d bought Everett’s practice. That medical building supported specialists from almost every field, and Daniel was like a sponge, constantly trying to soak up as much knowledge as he could. I knew calling him was a stab in the dark, but I wanted him to see what he could find out about Faye Talbot’s condition and whether he could maybe help her out. No way was anyone going to give me any information with all that medical confidentiality bullshit—not that I’d understand one word of any of it even if they did. But Daniel could do anything.

After placing my call and getting Daniel to agree to help me out, I called Samuel for a pickup. It was time to go home, and even though I was dreading my body’s reaction to seeing Delaine, my heart needed to.

Samuel knew better than to say anything to me on the way home. Clearly I was not in the mood for sharing. When we got to the house, I went in without a word and made my way toward the bedroom. Even though I knew the way by heart, it still felt like I was being pulled in that direction by some unseen force. She was there, and I was like a magnet drawn to her.

For the very first time in a long time, I climbed into my bed with every stitch of clothing still on, except the shoes of course. She was asleep, but she was turned toward my side of the bed, her angelic face looking peaceful even though I knew the hell that fate—and I—had imposed upon her.

Every molecule in my body wanted to reach out and touch her, but I couldn’t. Because I was dirty and she was not. And I wasn’t talking about the fact that I had spent the day in wet clothes and hadn’t yet showered. I couldn’t bring myself to smudge something so pristine. But my smudges were already all over her, weren’t they? I had touched her everywhere, left no inch of her perfect skin unmarred by my branding.