Burned Deep (39 page)

Leaning in, I said, “As friends.”

“That's a start, remember?”

He'd told me that at the Delfinos' house. God, that seemed a million years ago. So much had happened since then. And along the way, I'd fallen madly, addictively in love. With Dane.

In answer to Kyle's comment, I told him, “On your way to being a BFF.”

“Ah, the best friend curse. Though,” he added optimistically, “the more you're exposed to my rapier wit and these muscles”—he flexed his biceps—“the better chance you'll have of ditching the brooding, intimidating guy for someone much more fun.”

“You do have a way about you. Just … don't forget what I said earlier, okay?
All
of it.”

The elevator arrived. Though I missed my daily stair-stepper routine, I moved inside with Kyle.

“Is it his money?” he asked.

I shot him a look. “Oh, please.”

“So … what? Is it that whole
I'm as tall as the Empire State Building
thing he's got going on?”

“I can't tell you exactly what it is,” I said. “Because it's everything—but mostly the way he makes me feel. And do you really want to hear about this?”

He frowned. “No, I guess not.”

With an empathetic smile, I said, “I'm sorry. It is what it is, whether I can explain it or not. I can't do anything about it. I can't help how I feel.”

“Yeah, well,
I
feel very strongly that you'll get over him soon and come knocking on my door.” He gave me a smug look that I could see was feigned.

“You're probably right,” I played along. “I mean who wants to be in love with the Empire State Building?”

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open on the third floor to let Kyle off.

“If you change your mind,” he said, “you know where to find me.”

“Duly noted—and thanks. For everything.”

He stepped out and I returned to my office.

I'd pulled together an entire theme for the launch and was in the process of creating a collage I could show Dane, to give him the full impact of my concept. It was hugely helpful to have something so massive to concentrate on. I didn't even notice the time whizzing by until Molly announced over the speakerphone, “Kathryn DeMille on line two for you.”

I froze. Christ, I'd put her out of my mind—but that clearly didn't mean she went away completely. And why the hell was she calling me at work after hours, rather than on my cell? What game was she playing?

I reached for the receiver as distress rippled through me. “This is Ari.”

“Of course it is, darling. I'm sure you knew it was me calling. How lovely that you have an assistant.”

“What do you want?” I had no desire to engage in small talk with her. I knew what prompted the beast to rear its ugly head—money. Plain and simple.

“Wouldn't you like to hear how I'm doing?” she asked in her delicate tone. The one I had little patience for because I was onto her. “The Olstead Benefit is this Friday at the Biltmore, so I'm busy with salon appointments and still on the lookout for the perfect gown. I really don't want to buy off the rack, in the event someone else has selected the same Louis Vuitton or Oscar de la Renta. You know, everyone has been copying Amal Clooney's wedding gown and I just don't want to match anyone or wear some sort of knockoff—”

“Mother, you're living the life of a socialite when you are, in fact,
not
one. Use the Dillard's certificate I gave you—along with the others you've likely stockpiled because they're ‘not Nordstrom'—and buy a damn dress the way normal people do. At the fucking mall.” Okay, so I'd just snapped. But I knew it was only a matter of time before she showed her true colors. Why beat around the bush about it?

“Aria Lynne DeMille,” she scolded in her haughty voice.

“Mother, I'm at work. Working. A concept that goes well beyond your comprehension, obviously. But it's how I pay my rent and expenses. I'm under a lot of pressure here and I don't have time for you to suddenly drop into my life pretending to be my parent. I've been perfectly fine with our disassociation. I accepted a long time ago that all you care about is
you—
not Dad, not me. So stop with the bullshit and tell me why you're calling.”

“Well, I just…” She huffed, as though I'd hurt her feelings. One would actually have to have feelings in order for them to be hurt. So I didn't take the bait. “When did you become so cruel?”

I closed my eyes as tears burned. Me, the cruel one? I'd spent the first eighteen years of my life trying to get this woman to love me. At the very least, to
notice
me. The next eight years had been wrapped around self-therapy, trying to survive my messed-up childhood.

I thought back to the time before I'd met Dane, when I kept everyone at arm's length, not letting anyone close, not letting anyone touch me except on those rare occasions when I'd craved it a bit too much to deny a quick interaction.

That had all changed. I had friends now. I was surrounded by people all day and I liked them. Finally, I was normal. Well, relatively speaking, since I was addicted to one very dark and broody man, but still …

I could honestly say that, despite the drama in my life, I was happy. I was in love and loved in return.

The woman on the other end of the line who professed to be my mother was, in all honesty, simply someone I used to know. And while I wasn't a proponent of severing parental ties, in this case I had to admit that it was time.

I pulled in a long breath, then said, “Look, I understand that you feel some false sense of entitlement. Maybe it's because of all the money Dad made before his injuries. Maybe it's all the trendy, prestigious places we were invited to, the circle you were all a part of in the professional world of golf. I don't know. Frankly, I don't care. You willingly chose to screw up your marriage, and for the life of me, I still can't fathom why Dad was the one who had to suffer because you were the one to do something wrong. But I am smart enough to know why you're suddenly dropping into my world, and I'm telling you it's pointless. So stop calling me.”

Her tone turned downright vicious—the voice I remembered from my childhood. “You're not the one in control here, Aria Lynne. You hurt me, I'll hurt your father.”

I slammed the phone into its cradle. My heart pounded. Anger flashed through me. So, too, did anxiety.

How could I have forgotten who she truly was? Why hadn't I recalled from the onset that it was Maleficent I dealt with?

I dropped my head in my hands. I could rattle off some stone-cold words to her but they meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. They tore at me more than they ever would at her, because it was my own mother I lashed out at. Even if she was the furthest thing from being my mother, it wasn't easy to rise to her level. The fact that I had worried me a little. But above that, I had the very distinct and sinking feeling that I couldn't walk the walk.

How was I going to protect my dad and still make my car payments?

“Ari?”

Oh, shit.

Dane.

I sniffled and swiped at my tears before lifting my head.

“What is it?” He was instantly alarmed and stalking across my office.

Damn my mother for calling me at work. This was a private matter and yet here I was, painted into a corner with one more person with whom I couldn't go toe-to-toe.

“
Mommie Dearest
has taken to phoning me at work. I'm trying to get her to stop.”

His gaze narrowed. “I thought the two of you didn't speak.”

“We didn't. And I'd gotten over it. Then she started seeing my name and photos in papers and magazines. Suddenly she wants to be besties.”

That was a total lie—she didn't want friendship or anything beyond more checks. And Dane saw right through me.

Taking one of the chairs in front of my desk, he rested his forearms on the glass top and steepled his fingers. Fingers that distracted me. I'd much rather have his hands on me than have this conversation with him.

“What's really going on?”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” I told him. “I can handle it.”

Wow, I was doling out a few whoppers today.

He regarded me closely for several seconds, then nodded his head. “If you say so.”

It was my turn to eye him curiously. “And that's that?”

“If you needed my help, you'd ask for it, right?”

I smiled, despite knowing I wasn't on par with my mother's wily ways. She was much more cunning—which meant I had to either resort to Dane rescuing me yet again or step up my game. Because I didn't want him involved any more than I wanted my dad tormented further.

“She wants money,” I confessed. “But it's my problem and I'll figure it out.”

He hedged. I saw the wheels churning in his brain, caught the hint of alpha in his eyes.

“Dane,” I warned. “This is a family thing I need to deal with—not something for you to fix.”

“But you know I can.”

“And you hear me asking you not to,” I challenged.

His jaw worked rigorously for a moment. Then he said, “If you insist.”

“I do.” And I meant it.

Luckily, a knock on my opened door saved me from continuing this discussion.

“Hey,” Kyle said. “We have a meeting in the conf—” He frowned. “Why are you crying?”

“I'm not crying.” I swept my hands over my face to erase any evidence to the contrary.

Dane stood and faced my friend. “Everything's fine, according to Ari.”

“According to Ari.” Kyle stepped into the room. “But not you?”

I got to my feet as well and rounded the desk, standing between the two men.

“It's just a little family drama,” I said. “Let's go to our meeting.”

Behind me, Dane scoffed.

Kyle simmered. “You just can't stay out of trouble, can you? Ever since that day in the bar when the guy with the tattoo grabbed you, you've been living on the edge.”

“That's not fair,” I bit back. “I didn't ask for him to—”

“Wait a second,” Dane interjected. “Kyle has a point.”

I whirled around and glared at Dane. “You're siding with
him
? What sort of alternate universe did I just wake up in?”

With a grim look that conveyed displeasure with my glib comment as much as it revealed a new level of consternation, Dane said in a gruff voice, “That guy in the bar had a diamondback tattoo. There are no snakes on this property. I have people who make sure of it. There isn't an infestation of scorpions, either. And yes, your office was bugged.”

“Holy shit,” Kyle said. “Okay, am I the only one who thinks this is all jacked to hell?”

Ignoring him, Dane told me, “A snake sitting on the fourth-floor landing would have been planted. Security cameras weren't operating at the time, so it would have been easy for anyone who had access to release it there, knowing you always took the stairs.”

“Someone who had a thing for snakes?” I ventured as my blood ran cold. “Someone who might even have pet rattlers?”

“And if he doesn't have a problem handling snakes, he wouldn't mind collecting a few scorpions, either.”

My stomach churned. “I just might be sick.”

“The guy was pissed that I stepped in at the bar,” Dane said. “Pretty easy to exact his own revenge when all he had to do was open a newspaper and see your face—just like your mom. Not difficult to put two and two together when it's a well-known fact I own the hotel where you work.”

I sank into the chair he'd vacated. “Oh, boy. Now I know why you've been so adamant about keeping your exposure on the Internet and elsewhere to a minimum. With the exception of the very obvious and simple-to-discover detail that the Lux is yours.”

“This is fucking unbelievable,” Kyle muttered. “Are you saying…?” He shook his head as his fists clenched at his sides. “Great. This is just great. So it's not Ari who's the trouble magnet.” He glowered at Dane. “You're the reason she's constantly in danger.”

“Kyle,” I pleaded, not quite having the wherewithal for a confrontation between the two of them.

“Way to go, Buttercup,” he lobbed back at me. I smirked.

Dane dragged a hand down his face. “What?”

“Inside joke,” I explained. Instantly realizing my mistake as his head slowly turned and he shot me a
you did not just say that
look.

I'd made the entire scene worse.

“So she really is the target here,” Kyle said, agitated. “Because of you.”

Dane's attention returned to Kyle. “I think you've made your point.”

Kyle took several steps forward. “Have I?”

I jumped up and moved between them again. “Knock it off,” I demanded, my pulse racing. To Kyle, I said, “He's a boxer. You're a quarterback. I don't doubt it'd be an interesting showdown, but fighting amongst ourselves isn't going to solve the problem.”

“
I'm
going to solve the problem,” Dane said as he stormed around us and headed to the door. “All of them, now that I know all the sources.”

“Dane—” I called out, not liking the sharp edge to his voice or the tension in his shoulders.

“Stay here, Ari. Kyle … Goddamn it. Make sure nothing happens to her.”

“Definitely not on my watch.”

Dane let out a low, primal growl before stalking off.

“You just have to provoke him, don't you?”

He glanced over at me. “And you can't resist all this risky business.”

“It's not as though I'm enjoying this. Have you ever been stung by a scorpion?”

“No.” His jaw clenched again. “I'm a little more careful.”

“Stop kicking me when I'm down.”