Hold Me Tight (10 page)

“On our first night back, I called her parents’ house and she said that she didn’t want me to come over just yet. Her family wanted to spend some time with her first, and not to worry because we had four whole weeks to spend together before she went back,” I laugh bitterly, knowing the truth. “I thought she was avoiding me because she was going to break up with me. In fact, I was sure of it. So I thought I’d save her the trouble. I told her it wasn’t enough for me. I needed to see her that night or it was over. We got into a screaming match on the phone. She kept insisting that she didn’t want to end things like that, that she loved me and wanted to fix what was broken between us, but I didn’t believe her. For years, her parents had been trying to drive a wedge between us, and if she couldn’t see that, then it was never going to work. There was nothing left worth fighting for. For a whole semester, she’d tossed me aside like I meant nothing to her. Now that she was going to graduate in the spring, her parents were probably filling her head with the idea that she could do so much better, that she didn’t have to settle for someone like me.”

I stop to run my hand across my jaw, not even realizing how engrossed Ivy and Will are in my story. I’m lost in a sea of memories, feeling anew just how rejected I felt at the time.

“After we split up, people were telling me they kept seeing her around town with Tim. It turns out the two of them practically spent her entire break together. She never called me to say she was sorry, and I didn’t try to see her before she went back. We just left it like that.” I stare at the floor, rubbing the back of my neck to relieve the tension.

“But you still started work on the cabin?” Ivy questions, bringing me back to the present.

“Yeah, I did,” I nod in agreement. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“And let me guess?” Will inquires, drawing his chair closer. “Someone tipped her off, told her what you were up to.”

“Pretty much,” I reply, pausing to take a sip of water, my mouth suddenly dry. “She called me when she found out. We had a heart-to-heart that lasted well into the night. After that, we’d talk every night on the phone. I thought things were back to normal. She was acting like her old self again. I begged her to come home for Valentine’s Day. I wanted to show her what I’d done so far on the cabin, and she did. One thing led to another and…” I gulp down the rest of the water, unable to go on, especially with the weight of Ivy’s eyes on me.

She knows what happened next, the night I thought Cassidy conceived. I don’t have to elaborate on it. Will can fill in the gaps on his own.

“But you’re thinking Tim could’ve gotten her pregnant the month before if she was sleeping with him?” Will asks bluntly.

“Pretty much,” I respond, for the first time blatantly acknowledging Cassidy’s betrayal. “But we’ll never know, will we?”

“We gotta get Tim to talk,” Ivy insists, reaching for my hand. “Get him to open up. It just feels like he’s holding something back, like there’s more to this than he’s letting on, and I just know Lauren has something to do with it.”

“And you think you’re the one he’s going to spill his secrets to?” I ask her warily.

“I might be,” she whispers softly. “He thinks we’re the same.”

“What do you mean?” Will questions.

“He sees us as the perpetual runners-up, like I wouldn’t be your first choice if Cassidy were still alive,” Ivy explains, and I tighten my grip on her hand, ready to contradict her. “He may believe that, but I don’t, and I even told him as much. But if I pretend to go along with him, he might be willing to admit that nothing really happened between them. I think it strokes his ego a bit to have you think he slept with her. He wanted her so badly that he just can’t let it go.”

“I know I can probably get Ben to set up a meeting between the two of you,” Will says, a tad too eager for my taste. I glare at him, causing him to backtrack. “That is, if you want me to.”

“I think it’s our only play,” Ivy concurs, never taking her eyes off me, waiting for my approval.

“So you really think Tim’s just going along with all of this just to keep Lauren from outing Ben?” I ask, struggling to wrap my mind around it. “That he’d agree with her version of events and have a movie made debasing his character just so his little brother could become some big football star?”

“But don’t you see? He’d finally get to live
his
version of events, if only on the big screen,” Will says, cocking his head to the side. “He’d be the one who rode off into the sunset with Cassidy, not you. He wants that to be the version people remember forever, and what better way to do that than have his fantasy immortalized in film? At this point, he doesn’t care about his reputation. He just wants a chance at a happy ending—
his
happy ending.”

“That’s so sad,” I mumble, even more grateful to feel the warmth of Ivy’s fingers against mine. “He’d rather create a fake life than work at building a real one.”

“But that’s where you come out the winner in all of this,” Ivy proclaims ardently. “You’ve moved on. He hasn’t.”

“Because you showed me how,” I confess, realizing how lucky I am to have her. “Ivy, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You were friends with Tim once. Do you really want him to remain stuck in the past, hung up on someone who can never love him back?” Ivy asks, deliberately placing me in Tim’s shoes.

“Well, when you put it like that,” I groan, “what choice do I have?”

“Will, call Ben and set it up. We’re going to get to the bottom of this once and for all.” Ivy peers over her shoulder at him, and Will snaps to attention.

“I’m on it,” Will declares, hastily getting to his feet and putting on his coat.

“Where are you going? We haven’t even eaten yet,” Ivy calls to him before he can rush out the door.

“I don’t want you eavesdropping on my conversation,” Will jokes. “Start without me. I’ll be right back.”

In his excitement, Will slams the door, causing the dishes to rattle.

“You know this is only going to derail the screenplay,” I level with her, needing her to grasp the full picture. “But it’s not going to stop Lauren from going after Ben, or me, or most importantly, you. Ivy, you can’t ask me to put you and the baby in jeopardy. I won’t do it.”

“Yeah, but if we can right one wrong, we have to try,” she insists, rising to her feet. “I really think if we can turn Tim we can start wresting some control away from Lauren. Make her see that she’s vulnerable.”

“But that might make her retaliate even harder,” I warn, not wanting to let go of her hand. “Especially if she starts to feel like she has nothing to lose.”

“Oh, I think she has a great deal to lose,” Ivy declares, tugging at my hand until I stand up. “Or she wouldn’t be fighting so hard to hold on to it.”

“Whatever it is, I hope you’re right,” I grumble as I help her pick up some of the plates to reheat them in the microwave before Will comes back and catches us. “I just don’t like being forced into the position of gambling with your life.”

“After I talk to Tim, I’ll stay out of the fray,” she insists, setting the timer and hitting the power button. “I’ll lay low until the baby is born. I give you my word.”

“And if Lauren ends up on our doorstep again?” I press as she watches the dishes spin around.

“I know you’ll send her packing,” she laughs. “Lauren Price won’t get anywhere near me. Not if you have something to say about it. I know my big, strong man will protect me.”

“This isn’t a joke, Ivy,” I admonish her, not returning her smile. “She already got to you once since you left Tim’s. I can’t be at your side twenty-four hours a day. She’s still a threat.”

“Then I promise to camp out at the garden center with everybody during the day.” She opens the door, reaching for the hot pad on the counter. “That way, I’ll be well looked after. There’s always somebody around—you, Ben, Will, your dad. We can even enlist Tim if I’m able to persuade him.”

“Sorry if that doesn’t make me feel good inside,” I lament. “The last thing I want is Tim hanging around you.”

“You have nothing to worry about.” Ivy puts down the steaming bowl of mashed potatoes and reaches up on her tiptoes to give me a peck on the cheek. “He’s so sad and confused. I feel sorry for him. I want to help him if we can. He was your friend once. He can be your friend again.”

“Well, that’s all he’s going to be—
a friend,
” I emphasize, sliding my hands onto her hips and pulling her close.

“Stop getting so crazy jealous over something stupid,” she giggles as I start to nibble her neck.

“What? Would you rather I give every guy who wants to kiss you free access to those luscious lips of yours?” I tease her, leaning in to steal a kiss of my own.

“No, but it’s kind of hot when you get all jealous,” she whispers against my mouth.

Sliding the food out of the way, I lift her onto the counter until I’m positioned between her legs, my lips moving with hers. She moans, opening her mouth to me, and her tongue tangles with mine. But I don’t stop there as my hands reach up to free her hair from the clip holding it in place, allowing it to tumble over her shoulders. Her fingers are already unbuttoning my shirt, and I feel her hands gliding over my chest. I let my hands trail down her body, grasping her thighs before guiding her ankles behind my back.

But it’s not enough.

Picking her up, I knock everything off the table and place her in the middle, hurriedly freeing my arms from the confines of my shirt. She groans as her hands travel down my back, pulling me down on top of her. We don’t come up for air. We only deepen the kiss that started all this.

Her hand finds my erection, cupping it through my jeans, causing me to jerk against her. I feel her laugh against my lips, but I don’t pull away. She fingers me through the denim, my hips moving with her as I rock back and forth on my heels. She opens her hand wide before squeezing me as hard as she can. I grunt above her, but she tilts her head, forcing her lips back onto mine. Her other hand snakes around the base of my spine, pulling on my low-slung jeans until they’re hanging precariously low.

All the while, she’s tugging and gripping the bulge in front—driving me insane. Up and down, she works me over, not even bothering to lower my zipper, refusing to let me spring free. I growl as I spread my legs even farther apart, desperate to regain control and slow things down. But I’m too far gone, and she knows it. I feel the wetness at my tip as it nudges against my boxers, straining against her hand. My dick has a mind of its own where she’s concerned. Damn it. She’s going to make me come right on the kitchen table.

I lean away from her, groaning loudly as I relinquish the sweet taste of her lips. I lower my eyes and stare at the stain extending down the front of my jeans as she looks up at me, breathless and satisfied.

That’s when we hear the front door open and Will’s footsteps coming toward us.

She’s pulled my jeans down so low that the tuft of hair above my boxers is clearly visible. Fuck. There’s no time to put my shirt back on. All I can do is try and pull up my pants.

Will whistles, leaning against the wall. “I can’t leave you alone for two minutes, can I?” he sniggers, his eyes taking me in, enjoying the view.

Ivy sits up, pressing her lips against my ear. “Go get changed. We’ll salvage what’s left of the meal, okay?” I start to pull away, but she reaches for my arm, drawing me back. “I don’t care if we go hungry today because that was so worth it.”

I smile, ducking my head as I exit the room even though I couldn’t agree more. She might not know how to cook, but she sure knows how to satisfy my cravings in other ways. That was fucking incredible, even with Will interrupting us.

I hear them start to talk as I reach the steps.

“So is it a go?” Ivy asks timidly, afraid of his response.

“Yeah. Ben is bringing him over super early Monday morning before they go hunting,” Will relates, filling her in on the details. “You’ll have a chance to talk to him then.”

“Does Ben think he’ll say anything?” Ivy questions, pressing him for more information.

“Well, that’s the thing,” Will says a bit awkwardly. “Tim thinks he’s just going hunting with Ben. He loves the first day of hunting season. He never misses it. He doesn’t know that they’re stopping here first. It’s the only way Ben could think of to get him out of the house.”

I just shake my head and continue up the stairs. It’s about what I expected. I knew Tim was going to make this difficult.

I just knew it.

Chapter Fifteen
Lauren

I take a sip of Chardonnay and examine my stepfather over the rim of my wine glass.

Conrad Price, the man everyone fears. Wealth. Influence. Power. That tri-pronged scepter of dominance is his weapon of choice. He wields it expertly, intimidating people into doing whatever he commands like Zeus hurling thunderbolts from Mount Olympus.

Frankly, there’s no one I’d rather model myself after.

But his approval is hard to get. He doesn’t bestow it willingly. I can count the number of times he’s given me a hint of praise since installing me in a position of authority at the
Gazette.
He’s a tough nut to crack, unless you’re young, naïve, and beautiful.

Yeah, every man has his weakness—even the great Conrad Price.

“The garnish on the butternut squash leaves much to be desired,” he complains, dabbing at his finely groomed mustache with the corner of his linen napkin.

My mom says nothing and just gazes blankly ahead. She ordered our Thanksgiving dinner from one of the finest bistros in Manhattan, so he’s not criticizing her directly, just her ability to select items off a menu. She’s well into her third glass of wine, so I doubt she even heard him.

Ryan quickly shovels down what remains on his plate and stands up from the table, not even bothering to ask if he can be excused. He’s done his duty. He’s eaten with us. He thinks that’s all that’s required of him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His father’s voice is laced with venom, the kind of remark that blisters through the skin. It’s about the only thing Ryan still listens to.

“I’m done, and since I can’t get liquored up like everyone else at this table, what’s the point of hanging around? It’s not like we’re some big happy family.”

That’s brazen, even for Ryan. He might be thinking that. Hell, we all might be thinking that. But he knows better than to say it, especially on a day like today. When it comes to spending time together during the holidays, his father expects us all to play our parts and indulge him. I already warned Ryan about his wiseass remarks when we drove into the city last night, but it looks like he decided not to heed my advice and keep his big mouth shut.

“Sit down,” his father orders, clearly not brooking any opposition from his teenage son.

Ryan hates his father, and who can blame him? He basically told Ryan that he would’ve rather come across his dead body than see firsthand that he was into other guys. Ever since he caught Ryan with Ben, things have been downright icy between father and son. Conrad even told Ryan’s mother that, once he graduates from high school, he’s through with him. There will be no place waiting for the heir apparent at Price Enterprises because it’s all going to me.

“And if I don’t?” Ryan snarls, causing my mom to wince and massage her forehead.

These fights are nothing new. Lately, they’ve just escalated in intensity. My mom thought that by marrying Conrad she’d never have a care in the world. Little did she know that with prestige comes pain—a whole lot of it.

I play with the figs in my cranberry sauce, pushing them around the Wedgwood plate with my fork. While I feel for Ryan, he brought this on himself. He got sloppy. He should’ve never brought Ben to the Price family lodge. What was he thinking taking such an unnecessary risk? He was never good at covering his tracks. He certainly never fooled me.

Last year, I kicked over the wastepaper basket next to my desk after Eric had said that he didn’t think it’d be a good idea if I came over. An empty pack of Ryan’s favorite brand of cigarettes fell out. I immediately got suspicious. After reviewing a month’s worth of security footage, I caught Ryan red-handed swiping the key magnetized to the bottom of the
Gazette
’s mailbox on not one, but several different occasions. The little punk had been bringing Tim’s brother into my place of business to have sex. Just knowing what they must’ve done on my couch makes my stomach churn.

Turns out, I knew Conrad was going up to the lodge that day, and when Ryan texted me that he couldn’t run an errand for me because he was already there, I automatically assumed he had brought his boy toy along with him, and I was right. So did I bother to warn my little stepbrother about his impending doom? Not at all… He’d screwed me over, entering my inner sanctum without my permission, breaking my trust.

As far as I’m concerned, he deserves everything he gets as I swoop in and claim his inheritance right out from under him.

Who cares that Conrad isn’t exactly my favorite person in the world? I plan on laughing all the way to the bank. Just as long as he keeps his baby maker zipped. Everything will proceed just fine.

“I thought I’d already explained to you the consequences of what it means to disappoint me?” Conrad seethes in that calm yet lethal manner of his. “Would you rather contemplate your shortcomings out on the street tonight?”

“You can’t kick me out,” Ryan challenges, but he doesn’t sound so sure of himself.

His father’s been known to teach him some pretty hard lessons. I wouldn’t put it past him to make Ryan wander around Manhattan in the cold just to prove a point. Conrad’s authority is absolute. No one gets away with defying him, especially his closeted gay son.

I could speak up for Ryan, but it wouldn’t do any good. Conrad would only shift his simmering rage onto me, and that’s the last thing I want. There’s something I need to talk to him about once this little spat with Ryan plays out.

“Get your coat, and get out.” His verdict rendered, Conrad moves his chair closer to the table, pretending like nothing happened as Ryan continues to stand there, glaring at him.

“You can’t do this. The temperature’s going down below zero tonight.” Ryan stamps his foot, begging his father to see reason.

But Conrad pushes his plate aside and acts like Ryan isn’t even there. “Coffee and dessert. Now.” He snaps his fingers at a member of the household staff stationed against the wall, who jumps to attention eager to leave the room and fulfill his boss’s demand.

“Dear, why don’t you take a moment and reconsider?” My mother makes a valiant attempt on Ryan’s behalf, even as she slurs every other word.

“And why don’t you get out of my sight?” Conrad clearly has had enough of his mandated family time.

“Un-
fucking
-believable,” Ryan lashes out before striding out the door, my mother trailing unsteadily in his wake.

I wait a beat, giving him a chance to sip the coffee that was just placed before him. “Pathetic, aren’t they?” I comment, refusing all eight variations of pie being offered on a silver tray by a flustered new employee, who is blushing profusely.

Conrad’s not going to like that. Above all else, he favors discretion. He doesn’t take kindly to being reprimanded by the scarlet cheeks of someone on his payroll.

“Two of a kind,” Conrad concurs, giving me an appreciative glance, failing to even raise his eyes to the server next to me.

“Maybe seeing firsthand the effects of his deviant lifestyle will scare some sense into him,” I murmur gently, reaching for the tumbler brimming with soy milk.

“I couldn’t agree more. Let him go huddle with the queers in Chelsea where he belongs. I wash my hands of him.” Conrad spears the crust of his pumpkin pie, clanging his fork down hard against the plate. “He’s no longer a son of mine.” He daintily takes a bite, savoring it like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

His utter detachment to his own flesh and blood is chilling. But I shake it off. We have more important issues to discuss. I can’t get cold feet now. He has to know. If word gets out and he realizes that I didn’t warn him, there will be hell to pay. It’s always better to be honest with Conrad. Keeping secrets from him isn’t wise. He always finds out—always.

“Speaking of knowing your place, our favorite swim coach might be thinking about coming clean.”

I observe Conrad’s reaction very carefully. I’m treading on extremely dangerous ground. This subject is beyond classified—just bringing it up is suicide.

“Leave us,” Conrad snarls.

The help immediately flees the room, closing the door softly behind them.

Great. Now I’m sealed in with the king of Wall Street himself. But I think I can handle him. He needs me. I’m one of the few who can keep his dirty little secret hidden. All I have to do is assure him that his damning actions will never see the light of day.

“You said that girl’s under contract to finish the screenplay. So what’s the problem?” He taps his spoon against his saucer, hunting for details before ratcheting up his anger.

I have to remember that he’s a rational predator. He only attacks when he feels threatened. He conserves his energy for when the time is right. Now he’s just feeling me out. I have to let him know that I have the situation under control, even if it doesn’t sound like it.

“She’s in the middle of a difficult pregnancy. There’s always been a contingency in place in case she’s not able to finish it. But the benefits of her writing it clearly outweigh any temporary delays. I’m confident we can ride out the storm, get her to fall back in line.” I fold my hands together and sit back in my chair.

Conrad always appreciates a display of confidence. I can’t go groveling at his feet and turn into a nervous wreck just because everything’s falling apart. If I show strength, he’ll respond in kind.

“Lauren, I hate having to repeat myself. Like I said before, what’s the problem?” Conrad’s eyes darken as he pushes away from the table and crisply crosses his legs.

“I think Tim formed some kind of emotional attachment to her when she was staying with him. After she left, he went into some kind of funk, not returning my phone calls, refusing to answer his front door. I had one of your PIs sit out front and keep an eye on him. The pictures they forwarded to me are disturbing.”

I reach for my Hermes Birkin bag and remove the folder containing the photos before sliding it over to him.

“He looks like he suffered some kind of breakdown—unshaven, despondent, glassy-eyed,” Conrad says flippantly, tossing the images of Tim’s demise back on the table. “You think he’s no longer mentally stable? That he might do something he’d regret?”

“Exactly,” I agree, glad that he’s voicing my concerns for me.

He removes his gold Cartier eyeglasses, twirling them by the stem, already recalculating his plan around what he views as nothing more than an annoying obstacle. He doesn’t see Tim as a human being. He never did. He’s just a bug to be crushed if he tries to get in the way.

“How much have we given him so far for his silence?” Conrad asks, testing me to see if I know the exact figure off the top of my head, because I know he surely does.

“$62,500 with an offer on the table to triple that if the screenplay is delivered on time and without incident. A cool quarter of a million for his trouble. I don’t see him backing out. I really don’t.” I push my chair away from the table, placing my elbows on my knees, ready to level with him. “I still have that leverage on his brother. I know you don’t want Ryan’s involvement leaked. I’m just hypothesizing the worst-case scenario if it comes down to protecting your reputation over your son’s. You’re the bigger fish. We’ve already discussed this. He takes the bullet so Price Enterprises remains scandal free. Investors want the integrity of their CEO to remain impeccable, and it will. You have my word.”

“Lauren, I strongly encourage you to get this Michael Phelps wannabe back in line, because if it comes down to airing my son’s dirty laundry in public or dealing with this young man, I’ll have no problem eliminating him from the equation. Do I make myself clear?” Conrad narrows his eyes at me, taking my Hail Mary pass off the table.

He can’t even look at his own son, but he has the gall to barter with the life of an innocent man to keep Ryan’s sexuality a secret. I nod hastily, too afraid not to agree with him. Backed into a corner, he’s capable of doing anything to safeguard the Price name—anything.

But Conrad’s the one who screwed up. He’s the one who got Cassidy pregnant. And he’s determined to make Tim pay the price for his indiscretion one way or another. He found the guy to pin it on, the one willing to take the fall, and he’s going to milk it for all it’s worth. Tim’s not walking away from this, no matter how much he wants to tell Ivy the truth. If those fateful words ever leave his lips, he’s a dead man, plain and simple.

My mind fast-forwards to Eric. If Tim tells Ivy, she’s sure to tell Eric. Then they’ll all come under Conrad’s radar. They’ll all be targeted. Conrad can’t let it get out that he knocked up the girl who died of cancer, America’s tragic little sweetheart. She’s not just some random college student who attended one of his seminars. She’s Cassidy, Eric’s Cassidy. The girl my stepfather couldn’t keep his hands off of.

He intimidated her into silence. He bought mine, and I bought Tim’s. But will Conrad’s money be enough to keep Tim quiet now that Ivy’s involved? I just don’t know.

The stakes have definitely been raised.