Heath Page 3

  We pull up to the Grand Hyatt and Elliot stops the vehicle. He gets out before I can ask him what we’re doing here. I quickly look down at my Valentino black minidress and matching pumps. When Elliot mentioned going to dinner, he didn’t say where. The valet opens my door and I take my sunglasses off, throwing them into the glovebox. Then I take his proffered hand and step out of the vehicle. I locate Elliot and shoot a glare in his direction. “You didn’t mention anything about going to a hotel.”

  He grins mischievously and my stomach drops. “I wanted to surprise you. I’ve made reservations at the restaurant and booked us a night in their penthouse suite.” He winks, but this time I don’t giggle, too annoyed.

  “Well, you should’ve mentioned it. I’m not exactly dressed for an evening out and I-I don’t even have a change of clothes or toiletries.” I snub my nose in the air like I’m being put out, but on the inside I’m panicking.

  “Don’t worry, Catrina, the only thing you’ll need tonight is yourself.”

  I worry about my promise to Heath to come see him later. Shit! If I’m not home tonight, Heath will burn this city ablaze in his search of me.

  “I need to make a call.”

  “Nonsense. Your father already knows you’re with me. There’s nobody else who needs to know where you are.” I can hear the silent meaning behind his words, but I ignore them. He extends his hand and I take it, following him into the hotel restaurant while trying to figure out a way to get ahold of Heath.

  The maître d’ sits us at a private table in the back corner. Elliot thanks him then turns his attention to me. “No menus?” I ask.

  “No, I planned the entire evening ahead of time so we won’t be interrupted.” He edges his chair closer to mine and places my hands into his. “I wanted tonight to be special, my love.” He leans in and places a soft kiss on my lips before backing up and smiling. “I love you, Catrina.”

  “I love you too,” I choke out.

  We go through our meal, one course at a time, beginning with the cheese stuffed mushrooms, eventually making it to our main course of Maine Lobster, and finally ending with the Strawberry Shortcake. As I take a small bite of a strawberry, I remember I’m supposed to be having dessert with Heath. Then an idea strikes me on how I might be able to get out of this, but before I can put my plan into motion, I spot Elliot getting up from his seat. I’m about to ask him where he’s going when he drops to one knee while opening a teal-colored jewelry box. I tilt my chin up slightly to assess the ring and notice it’s an oval platinum diamond, at least four carats. It’s absolutely exquisite.

  “Catrina,” Elliot begins and I try to calm my beating heart. Only it’s not beating out of excitement but instead in terror. I thought I would have longer. At least a few more years. “It’s no secret that our engagement has been a long time coming. I’ve asked your father for your hand and he’s given us his blessing. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  No! No! I won’t become your wife. I don’t love you or want you. I love someone else and he owns me, every piece of me. But no matter what I want in this life, it’s not the right path. Elliot is the path I’m destined for. “Yes. Yes, I will marry you.” I fight to hold back my tears as he slips the engagement ring on my ring finger, but once one tear breaks free, the rest follow in an unbroken stream. Elliot mistakes my devastation for happiness as he pulls me into his arms and kisses me softly. Always softly.

  Grabbing my hand in excitement, he guides me out of the restaurant and up to our suite. “There’s a bag of toiletries in the bathroom if you’d like to freshen up,” he says as he removes his suit coat and hangs it in the closet. Unable to even speak, I simply nod, then I lock myself in the bathroom, my body hitting the back of the door as I fall to the cold tile in a ruined heap. Covering my mouth, I cry for everything that Heath and I will never be. For everything we can’t be. Sobs silently wrack through my body as I wonder how I got to this point in my life. Loving the man I can’t have and being stuck with the one I don’t want. My thoughts go to my mother and how she left my father. Some would call her a fool for walking away from a life of luxury, but as I sit here in this bathroom, feeling trapped, I have to wonder if maybe choosing love over money is what saved her.

  Silent tears race down my cheeks as I think about Heath. My best friend. My lover. My everything. Since the moment my father brought him into our home, we’ve been inseparable. There isn’t a time I can recall when Heath hasn’t been there. Every birthday, every holiday. But it doesn’t matter that he’s been raised alongside me. That he works harder to earn his money than the men who simply have it given to them. No, life doesn’t work that way. You’re either born into this life or you’re an outsider. And no matter what Heath does, he will always be watching from the outside while I’m trapped on the inside.

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep, calming breath. Then I let out an exhale and find my resolve. I fix my makeup and freshen up. I find a silky piece of lingerie in my bag, courtesy of my new fiancé, and put it on. Then, without giving myself another glance, I exit the bathroom where I find Elliot lying in bed and waiting for me, no longer wearing his dress shirt.

  “You look gorgeous,” he croons, patting the top of the bed for me to join him. I climb up and crawl over next to him, and once I’m lying down, he rolls over and settles on top of me, his hands caging me in. He rakes his gaze over my face then plants a gentle kiss to my lips, his tongue delicately swirling in my mouth. I close my eyes and try to imagine he’s Heath, but it’s pointless. Elliot could never satisfy me in the way Heath does, at least not without my guidance. So instead of trying to wish for my fantasy, I choose to deal with my reality.

  Returning Elliot’s kiss, my tongue meets his as I take over. I pull his undershirt over his head and unbutton his pants, pushing them down. He’s left in nothing but his boxers. I glide my hand back up and squeeze his dick through the material. He jumps slightly, startled that I’m behaving so brazenly, and breaks our kiss. With one hand still holding himself up, he uses his other hand to remove mine from his boxers and places it around his neck. I should’ve known he wouldn’t allow me to take control. He never does. His lips meet mine once more and I can feel him guide himself into me. I’m barely wet, definitely not turned on, but he doesn’t notice. He pumps into me a few times and then lets out a low groan as he comes inside me.

  “I love you, Catrina. Thank you for agreeing to be my wife and making me the happiest man in the world.” Then he kisses me once more, rolls off the bed, and pads to the bathroom to clean up, while I stare down at my ring and wonder how in the hell I’m going to explain this to Heath.

  Helen

  The Present…

  “NO!” EMILY CRIES OUT. “THIS is a terrible story!”

  I chuckle because she’s right. The story of Heath and Catrina is awful. Wretched and wrong. Downright despicable. Certainly not a love story, in my opinion. “So I shouldn’t continue then, dear?”

  “Ugh,” she groans in an overdramatic way. “Continue. It’s like a train wreck, though, Nanny. I’m too invested in the outcome now. Nicholas Sparks wrote this story, didn’t he? I bet they all die in the end. Please tell me Heath freaked the fuck out.”

  “Miss Emily!” I admonish. “Your mother may allow that hoodlum talk, but I certainly don’t. There’s a bar of soap with your name on it and I’m not afraid to use it. I don’t care how old you are.”

  She giggles. “Sorry. Tell me he put up a fight for her. Please.”

  Her phone buzzes and she becomes distracted as she texts Porter.

  Emily: I know you like me better than those other girls.

  She stares at her phone as though she wills him to reply. He doesn’t. Peeling her gaze from her phone, she looks up at me. “He put up a fight, right?”

  I let out a sigh. When did Heath ever not put up a fight when it came to Miss Catrina? “It only unraveled from there. And here is where the story turns sad…”

  Heath

  The Past… />
  “FOR GOODNESS’ SAKE, HEATH, SIT and eat a bite. You’re wearing a hole in the floors,” Helen snips.

  I stop pacing to sit at the kitchen table and glare at the phone on the wall, willing it to ring. The plate of bacon and eggs goes ignored the moment she sets it down in front of me. My focus is on my million unanswered questions but mainly one.

  Where the fuck is she?

  So help me, woman, if you’re not dead already, I’m going to kill you.

  I don’t really think she’s dead somewhere. No, it’s much worse than that. When she didn’t call and it got late, I drove my unhappy ass down to the Low Valley Estate. Mrs. Lincoln and her prissy daughter Isabel were all too thrilled to let me know that Catrina was out with Elliot.

  Fucking Elliot.

  He’s always been a thorn in my side. Small. Inconsequential. Not a concern. Irrelevant. Yet, recently, I’m starting to realize he’s poison. Slowly infecting my sweet love. Spreading his motherfucking disease of money and power, tricking her into believing he’s worthy of her.

  As fucking if.

  I bet his cock is laughable and he doesn’t even know where to put it half the time.

  “She’s probably off with the young Lincoln fellow,” Helen reminds me for the ninetieth goddamned time. “They’re exclusively dating after all. She doesn’t have to tell her brother her every move.”

  I shoot Helen a withering glare that has her turning to the stove to scrub the grease from it. I’m not her brother and she damn well knows it. We’re good at hiding our intimate moments from prying eyes, but the snooping maid isn’t an idiot. She’s been around a time or two when a playful kiss between Catrina and I has turned hot.

  “Elliot Lincoln is an imbecile,” I grumble.

  “An imbecile with money,” she retorts.

  I hate money.

  I hate it with every fiber of my being.

  That’s why I want it.

  I want as much of it as I can possibly grab onto so I can manipulate it to my will. So I can fucking rule over it. I’m tired of money, or lack thereof, deciding my future—of it dictating my every move.

  My love for Catrina has nothing to do with money.

  And I hate that it’s the very thing that tears us apart.

  Which is why one day soon, after college and when old Crenshaw comes to an understanding that his daughter and I belong together, I will shed this horrible monetary curse and make my own way. A way that includes her.

  There is no way without her.

  The front door creaks open and I jolt from my seat with Helen on my heels. I’m just stalking into the foyer when Catrina walks in with Elliot entering behind her. My hate-filled expression is for him and him only. The pussy won’t meet my stare. Instead, he exchanges pleasantries with Helen.

  “Please stay for breakfast,” Helen chirps, a little too fucking cheery for nine in the morning.

  “The Grand Hyatt has excellent room service,” he says to her and then darts a daring look my way. “Breakfast in bed at one of the finest hotels in New York. Everyone should try it at least once.” He weakens under my murderous stare and then pats Catrina on the shoulder. “Right, darling?”

  She bites on her bottom lip and keeps her eyes downcast. When she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a big fucking diamond glitters in the light.

  I growl.

  “Well, if you don’t mind, I need to get to the office,” Elliot says lamely. “Goodbye, Catrina. I’ll call you later.”

  Gritting my teeth with my fists clenched, I watch as he kisses my fucking girl on the top of her head before scurrying out the front door.

  “Such a fine-looking young man,” Helen murmurs.

  I snap my attention her way and shake my head. “Give us a moment.”

  She nods and then hurries away. The moment she’s gone, I prowl over to Catrina. As soon as I’m nearly touching her chest with mine, I inhale her. She smells like him. It makes the animal within me want to piss a goddamned circle around her, claiming her as mine. I want to drag her into the lake behind the estate and drown her until she no longer reeks of his disgusting scent.

  She’s mine.

  And yet she wears his motherfucking ring.

  “Nice ring,” I hiss, my breath blowing her hair.

  Her head tilts up. I’m furious and I want to throttle her. I want to drag her to some corner of this godforsaken earth and keep her there. Tie her to the fucking bed and never let her go. But the moment tears well in her big green eyes, my resolve weakens. All delightful images of cutting Elliot from throat to nut sack and watching him bleed out at my feet fall by the wayside.

  A tear rolls down her rosy cheek.

  My fist releases as I reach up a finger to steal her sadness. Her tears are mine. Just like her smiles and her laughter and her love are mine. All of it. Mine.

  “It’s just a ring,” I growl. “It means nothing to me.”

  Her nostrils flare and more tears leak out. “Heath.” My name is spoken like an apology, not a curse. Filled with shame and horror. Regret.

  I pull her to me just as she crumples. Sobs rattle through her and her tears soak my dress shirt. Gently, I stroke her hair despite wanting to tug it so I can look her in the eye and demand to know why.

  But I know why.

  He. Has. Fucking. Money.

  And I don’t.

  Simply put.

  “I don’t care if you have ten husbands,” I snarl, hugging her tighter to me. “I’ll always find you. I’ll fuck you in their beds. I’ll make you mine over and over again. You know this.”

  She cries harder. “I-I-I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” I clip out.

  Her head tilts up and her fingers slide into my hair. She tries to kiss me with her tainted lips. I lean away from her. “Not with that dirty mouth. Is that the same mouth you sucked his cock with?”

  She shoves me and glowers my way. “Fuck you.”

  “Looks like Limp Dick Lincoln already got the honors,” I sneer.

  Sometimes, our games aren’t fun.

  Sometimes, we’re both losers.

  Storming past me, she runs up the stairs, kicking her heels off along the way.

  Chase me, she begs.

  She doesn’t have to say it.

  I always know.

  With a growl, I storm up the stairs two at a time. She barely makes it into her room before I’m prowling in after her. I kick the door shut and intercept her before she makes it to her bathroom. Her worthless fists pummel my chest and I laugh cruelly at her.

  “Those fists mean nothing. The damage is already done, Catrina. Do you love to fucking hurt me?” I demand, my voice rising. “Because that’s what you did.”

  “No! You know I don’t want this!”

  “Could have fooled me,” I bite out, grabbing her hips and backing her into the doorframe. “You fucked him and you’re wearing his ring.”

  “You know I sleep with him on occasion,” she snaps. “Don’t act all sanctimonious now. You know what we are and how this works.”

  I pin her body with mine and my grip finds her jaw. My forehead rests against hers as my fingers dig into her delicate flesh. Beneath his scent, I catch a whiff of her. Sweet and floral. Beautiful. Addictive. “I thought I could handle it when it happened, but I can’t. I can’t do this, love. It’s too fucking hard.”

  She stands on her toes and I let her kiss me. Sweet and apologetic. “Since when is anything too hard for you, Heath? You’re the strongest man I know.”

  My lips fuse to hers and then I devour her. Our tongues tangle, fighting for dominance. I always win. Today, she doesn’t put up her normal fight. When we pull away, our chests heaving for air, I close my eyes. Wishing my life were different. Wishing I were born into a family like the fucking loser Lincolns. Wishing to be anything other than the runt without a last name or a past or a damn legacy.

  “Hey,” she murmurs, her fingers latching in my hair. “It’s just a ring. Like you said. It means nothing. This is
just another one of life’s games. We can play by our own rules.”

  With a growl, I twist her away from me. My lips find her neck and I nip at her flesh as I drag the zipper down on the back of her dress. She allows me to push it from her body. It pools at her feet soundlessly. The frilly panties and bra get discarded next.

  God, his scent on her disgusts me.

  “You make me crazy,” I hiss, my palm cupping her perfectly round bottom. “So fucking crazy.”

  “My madman,” she breathes.

  I slap her ass hard, earning a squeal from her. “I’m pissed, Catrina. I’m going to be pissed until I feel like you’ve been punished.” My finger slips between her thighs and pushes into her pussy, causing her to moan. “I’ll remain pissed until I’ve scrubbed every inch of that limp dick’s smell off you.” I slide my hand out and pop her ass again, loving the way her cheeks clench. Then, I ease my hand back to where I want and this time urge two fingers inside her. She whimpers when I fuck her with my fingers and then whines when I pull them back out to whip her again. “I’ll stay pissed until I’m balls deep inside of you where I belong. Tell me you deserve what I’m about to give to you.”

  She groans and pushes her now red ass toward my palm. “I deserve a lot more than an ass whipping.”

  Slap! Slap! Slap!

  I spank her ass that has been seen by another man until she’s squirming and crying. When she’s had enough, I tease her pussy only to whip her some more. This goes on until she’s a mess. Once I think she’s had enough and I can’t bear to strike her anymore, I start ripping at my clothes. She stands, looking sad as fuck and remorseful as I get naked. Once I’m undressed as well, I drag my fucking girl into the walk-in shower with me. She screeches when I turn on the water, the icy blast a shock to her flesh, but then calms as it heats up.

  Steam billows around us, trapping us in our own world. Our eyes remain glued to each other. Even as I thoroughly soap her down everywhere. She allows me to wash her until she’s clean and once again all mine. His touch is a thing of the past. The moment she’s rinsed off, I grab her sore ass and lift her. My cock rubs against her clit, but I don’t enter her as I press her back against the cold tile wall. I tease her instead.