Thrive (5 page)

“I heard you,” he snapped.

“And you’re not going to answer me.”

I sank into the seat, the warmth doing nothing for the cold anger that smothered me. Curtis sighed.

“There are things I can't tell you, Skye,” he said. “You just have to trust me.”

I pulled my phone out of my bag and unlocked the screen, swiping through the menus and looking at nothing in particular.

“Skillet?”

“I heard you.” My time to snap. “Don’t call me that.”

“Do you trust me?”

“No,” I answered quickly. “I don’t. You tell me nothing, you keep me here, away from my sister on her wedding day, and you give me no reason to trust you. So no, I don’t. You won't let me leave? Fine. I’ll stick around until you get bored and send me away again.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“We’ll see.”

I dropped my phone back into my bag and twisted my body to face the window with my back to Curtis.

“It’s dangerous. Just, please, trust me on that. I’m trying to keep you safe. I have to keep you in the dark until I figure this out.”

“Fine.”

That was the only response he got, the only one he was going to get, and he offered no further explanation. Obviously.

“Ms Tattersell is looking for you.”

Well, fanfuckingtastic. Drop a man in the shit when his manipulative witch of a girlfriend is waiting to tighten the lock on the shackles; when the love of his life, the woman he lost for most of it and sacrificed in a moment of selfless clarity (if you can call it that,) is sitting next to him begging to know what’s going on and why her life just got turned upside down, ripped inside out and then fucked backwards on a bed of nails.

Fan. Fucking. Tastic.

It’s okay, God, I think I’ve suffered enough.

All I had to do was divert Charlie, keep Skye in one place so she was safe, and sign the goddamn papers for Yusef. Selling up and becoming a recluse was becoming more tempting than I cared to admit. And losing my sense of smell seemed quite appealing when the scent of Skye was replaced with that of the woman who owned me, no matter how much I
claimed
to be the alpha.

~Curtis~

The building Curtis worked in was huge, tall and contemporary, fitting seamlessly into the major business district of Tower Hamlets. He parked the car on the pavement, and before we even had time to climb out, a suited man was opening the driver’s door and holding his hand out for the keys. He slid into the seat when Curtis vacated it and peeled away as we headed through the front doors of the building. I had a hard time imagining Curtis working in a business environment, which told me how much he had changed, as had I. He used to be cocky, unpredictable and so full of charisma that I had trouble believing he would fit in here.

He took hold of my elbow and steered me through the foyer, pulling me in front of him to push us through the turnstile together as he scanned his card for entry. He was nervous, panicking; that tiny amount of contact, a fraction of the physical touch I craved, told me he was uncomfortable. He didn’t want me here.

“Maybe you should have just locked me in the boot or something,” I sneered as we stepped into an awaiting lift.

“What?”

“It’s obvious you don’t want me here.”

“I want you wherever I am,” he said softly. I nodded, marginally reassured. Why was I relieved? I was so pissed off, all it would take to make me snap was a flash of red cloth; yet here I was, clinging onto every word that rolled from his tongue like a desperate, love-sick teenager.

As the lift slowed to a stop, Curtis cupped my face and pressed a soft, firm kiss to my forehead.

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice arousing a sheet of goosebumps to the surface of my skin.

Before I could ask what for, the door opened and he spun around, taking off into reception; his long, powerful strides left me unable to keep up.

“Show her to the conference room,” he said to the pretty middle-aged woman at the main desk.

He pointed indifferently over his shoulder towards me and I stopped still, watching him disappear behind a black door labelling it as belonging to
Curtis Mason, MD
. Managing director? He owned the place. I didn’t see that coming.

And I didn’t see the woman approach me; I recognised her as Angelica when she spoke.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked, gesturing for me to enter a room opposite her desk. “Tea? Coffee? Mr Mason won't be long.”

“I’m fine, thank you.” I turned to face her as I entered the room. “Tell
Curtis
he has got ten minutes, and then I’m leaving.”

“He’s asked not to be disturbed.”

“Then let’s pray for telepathy.”

I dropped into the leather chair at the head of the table, crossed one leg over the other and gave her my most intimidating sneer. She nodded, unfazed, and closed the door when she left.

I drummed my fingers on the desk and looked around. The table stretched the length of the room; there was a TV on two of the walls, a whiteboard with a projector fixed to the ceiling overhead, and it smelled like lemon. I tried to be patient and keep my back to the glass wall that looked out onto the open area of Curtis’ business – whatever it was – but curiosity got the better of me and I spun the chair around, half expecting to see him fucking Angelica over her desk. But my eyes moved beyond her as she sat at her desk on the phone and looked at her computer, to Curtis’ office. The slats of the blinds were down, haphazardly closed in haste, and had left the two people inside exposed.

Curtis stood in the centre of the room, in all his dark, brooding glory, facing off with a woman; she was tall, elegant and dressed in a figure-hugging, curve-accentuating white dress, with loose blonde curls bouncing against her back as she spoke heatedly. From fifteen feet away, I could see the vivid red of her stiletto pumps – the same shade as her lips. Whoever she was – the mysterious Ms Tattersell, I assumed – she fought Curtis’ fire with the same inferno he possessed. She could match him. They were merely inches apart and I could feel the chemistry. It was like they held the only source of oxygen on the fifteenth floor. I stood unsteadily from the chair and moved to the door. Angelica was engrossed in her task and I turned the door handle, opened the door slowly, and sneaked out. I passed her desk unnoticed and rushed along the short passage to the lift. It pinged to signal its arrival and I stepped in, but as I turned and took a deep breath, a perfectly manicured hand came out to stop the doors closing; they slid open and the woman in white stepped in. I held my breath when she brought the scent of Curtis in with her. I couldn’t take it. I looked away, but her voice, cold, distant and hollow – like Curtis’ when he was trapped – brought my head up and my eyes locked with her icy blue orbs without my consent.

“Who are you?” she asked with a scowl and a look of disgust.

“I, uh, had an interview upstairs, but I pressed the wrong button.”

She coked a brow, “Well, that was stupid of you.”

My skin pricked and a lump lodged itself in my throat. Curtis associated with this woman? She was nasty. I kept my eyes on her, trying to figure her out. She was flawless; she radiated intelligence, money and dominance, and she terrified me. I was no match for her; that much was clear. It was a straight knockout. Round one to the ice queen.

“Don’t bother, honey,” she sniped, and I realised I was staring. “You’re no comparison.”

I felt my lip tremble and blinked slowly to keep the tears away. I didn’t know this woman. She had no power to make me feel worthless, yet I gave her the right to. I should have stayed where Curtis sent me. I would have taken his rejection over her venom a hundred times, and still begged for more.

The doors opened and Ms Tattersell gave me a disgusted once over before she stepped out and moved fluidly to the exit, heading out onto the pavement and sliding into the back of a car before it pulled away and merged with the city traffic. I stumbled through the foyer, my usual awkward, no-comparison-self more deflated than I had been for years. I thought I’d picked myself back up. I thought I’d put the shattered pieces of my heart back together, just enough to let me live out the rest of my days in peace. I was wrong.

I pushed through the exit and took a lungful of smoggy air. I wanted to go home and forget the last twenty four hours had happened. I wanted to go back to my numb state of ignorance and pretend Curtis had never found me and stolen what strength I did have away from me. He said he was trying to keep me safe, but he’d put me in danger. My biggest threat was myself, and he had stormed back into my life and ripped me open. He’d left me exposed to the self-loathing I’d been battling for years.

I was surprised he hadn’t chased me, but relieved. I could get away, move on and try to put myself back together again. I walked away from the building and the man inside it, and headed across the road to a coffee shop. I needed a plan. I needed to compose myself and dig deep to find my fight.

My mind was a mess. One coffee turned into two and two turned into three as my thoughts became more chaotic.

I wasn’t weak. I’d proven to myself time and time again that I had the strength to fight whatever tried to bring me down. I didn’t need Curtis; he’d unknowingly given me enough to begin the next journey of my life. There was no room for self-pity; there was no time to wallow and think about the things I wanted but couldn’t have. There was no need to feel. I had to shut down, switch off and zone out. I had to find the truth and I wouldn’t allow the lingering, crippling pain, waiting to overwhelm, prevent me from doing what had to be done. I pulled my phone from my bag and called Beth.

“The fugitive returns,” she answered, no doubt with a smile. The same smile as our father. The same smile as Curtis’ Uncle Phil. “Where did you disappear to? Jen called about Buster.”

Turn off, Skye. Feel nothing.

“She’ll have to keep him for a while. I’m not going home yet. Is Dad there?”

“No. He left last night, just after you and Curtis. Everything okay, babe?”

“Yes.” My voice was hoarse and I took a mouthful of coffee. “Where can I find him, Beth?”

“Skye,” she sighed, concerned. “He’s done the disappearing act for years.”

“I know. Where can I find him?”

I knew she knew. We may have been separated for years, but I knew my sister, and she knew where our father was.

“He has an office back home. Do you remember that big ugly office building on Baker Street?”

“Yes, I remember.”

I had to walk past it every day on the way to the coffee shop to work. It was ugly; dark, grey and dirty, with random triangular shapes jutting out along the entire length of the building, and it always seemed to come with its own storm cloud, which hung over it and wrapped itself around the top three floors.

“He works there now. I had to send his wedding invitation there. I have the address in my phone, shall I forward it to you?”

“Yes, please.”

“Is everything okay, Skye?” she asked. “We’re just about to leave for the airport, but we can rebook if you need us.”

“I don’t,” I snapped. “I’m not crazy. I just need to do something.”

“Call me if you need me, okay? We’re just a flight away.”

“See you in three weeks.”

I hung up and stared at the screen until the address came through. When I had my father’s most recent location, I left the coffee shop and flagged down a taxi, instructing the driver to take me to Kent.

Charlie wanted us to make a hit. A hotshot American banker was in town house-hunting and she wanted to send him back to the states in the last tailored suit he’d ever own, with peanuts in his bank account and just enough change in his pocket to call his parents and beg them to book him an economy flight home.

How was I supposed to do that?

How did men share a life with more than one woman at a time?

Even the thought of it had my fists curling up tight, and the vicious stir in my body told me I had to get rid of Charlie. Now.

Uncle Phil.

He had to pay. It was all I could think about now…

Until Charlie left in a tantrum because she didn’t get what she wanted and Angelica burst in my office to tell me Skye had vanished in a cloud of I-should-have-seen-that-coming smoke.

Gut instinct told me she wasn’t far away, and I let fate lead me to her…after I’d signed the goddamn papers for Yusef. 

~Curtis~

It was getting dark when the taxi drove into my old hometown and sped along the road towards Baker Street, pulling up outside. The driver had said nothing the entire way here, and said nothing when I paid the fare and climbed out of the car, armed only with my handbag and leather jacket; he wasted no time pulling away and I watched the car disappear before turning to face the ugly grey building. I didn’t think this through. The offices weren’t open and I had no idea where to go – I was alone and afraid of the dark. It reminded me that I wasn’t as strong as I needed to be. I needed to have been stronger so I could have been a better daughter, a better sister, a better friend and lover and life partner. I fought hard; I put my all into every punch, but it was never hard enough.

I sat on the wall outside the offices and watched people whizz by, on their way home from work to their families, or heading out to dinner with friends. I’d never felt more alone.

I’d come forty miles to be stranded with nowhere to go.

Then I remembered where I was. My hometown. Curtis’ hometown. My father, his uncle, had two lives here; two families and two homes. Mine was no longer an option, but Curtis’ was. I pushed off the wall and prayed my memory would serve me well enough to lead the way.

I stopped at the end of a lit driveway. There was space for two cars, but only one space was filled, with a white Peugeot. I knew it wasn’t Dad’s. I knew he wasn’t here, but still I took a step onto the property. I’d never met Lois; Curtis had never let me get that close, but I wanted to meet her now; the woman who was married to my father. The woman who had raised the man I was treacherously bound to. I walked along the short path, remembering when I’d been here last – New Year’s Eve, 2002. I could almost taste the beer, hear the cheers of the Hulk army and the soundtrack to their celebrations playing in the background. I could feel Slasher’s lips on mine when I’d begun to let go; I could remember my fear when Oliver attacked him and Curtis brought him to heel with a simple instruction and a cool tone. And I could feel the pull from Curtis; the protective energy that I hadn’t noticed all those years ago. I knocked on the door, quietly, like I had that night, and hoped time would reverse itself, allow me to see Curtis for the first time all over again and save us from the future that awaited us.

The door opened and the first thing I saw was a flash of orange hair, beautifully fiery and full of life. It shined, emanating a light glow that drew me in and gave me a sense of comfort I didn’t know I longed for. I wanted to hate her for keeping my father from me, but I couldn’t. When I looked at her, I saw Curtis. A young, carefree Curtis who had no idea what the death of his parents really meant; I saw him struggling to get past their deaths and punishing the world for punishing him. I saw the softness I knew he once had, but the years had stolen it from him and replaced it with a hard shell, both magnetic and unbreakable.

I opened my mouth to speak, but she beat me to it, her voice raspy yet strangely musical.

“Skye.”

I blinked once, twice, three times. How did she know my name?

“Is he here?” I asked, worried I hadn’t noticed his car outside.

“Curtis?” I nodded. “No, he isn’t here.”

“Then how do you know who I am?”

“I’ve just boiled the kettle,” she said. “Don’t stand outside in the cold.”

I stepped inside and followed Lois through the house into the kitchen at the back. The house still smelled like lemon and as I looked around, I noticed how freakishly clean and organised it was. I knew that was my father’s doing – I knew he had been here. I hated myself for inheriting his obsessive compulsive behaviour.

“How do you take your tea?” Lois asked, grabbing a mug from the cupboard.

“A little milk, no sugar, thank you.”

“Just like Curtis.” She smiled at me over her shoulder as she popped a sweetener into her cup.

I knotted my fingers together in front of me, the guilt moving in. I’d planned to storm in here and expose Phillip’s dirty little secret and watch Lois hurt like I did, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t hurt her. I couldn’t tell her something so life-changing. I couldn’t take that choice away from Curtis. But now I was here, in her house, with no purpose but to keep the truth from her.

She made our tea and picked our cups up off the counter, nodding her head for me to lead the way into the living room. She curled her petite body into the corner of the sofa and held my cup out to me when I’d done the same. We were facing each other and as my eyes met hers, the same shape and shade as Curtis’, a calm washed over me. I’d always loved his eyes and it was a relief that he’d inherited them from Lois. It was a reminder that, despite Curtis and I being related in some sick, twisted way, we could still hold onto a sense of freedom.

“Curtis told me I’d know when I saw you,” she said, smiling as she assessed me and seemed satisfied.

“What do you mean?” I curled my hands around the mug, drawing confidence from its heat.

“I knew all those years ago that something had changed him.” A sadness filled her eyes, bringing glistening moisture with it. “He was such an angry boy. I tried to help him, I really did. Geoff tried to help him…but it was you who finally gave him a purpose. That’s all he’s ever wanted. To feel needed. I don’t know how he could have ever let you go.”

I hid my trembling bottom lip behind my cup. “He told you about me?”

“Curtis has always struggled to express himself. He always preferred physical expression over anything verbal.” I looked away. I knew exactly how he expressed himself, I just didn’t know what he was trying to say. “I knew he’d found someone. I’m not his biological mother, Skye, but I raised him. I know him.” She took a steadying sip of her tea. “I asked him about the girl who had given him his life back. All he would tell me is that he’d betrayed you, and I’d know when I saw you.” She shrugged with a smile. “And here you are.”

“I’m so sorry.” I muttered.

“Fate has a funny way of getting us to where we’re supposed to be.” I nodded, cursing fate as I had done hundreds of times before. “Will you stay the night? I’d like to get to know you. You can have Curtis’ old bedroom.”

I hesitated, but eventually let out a sigh and nodded. “I’d love to.”

***

I stirred as gentle hands slipped around me and pulled me into a warm, hard body.

“Thomas?” I whispered, turning and nuzzling into the chest of the man behind me.

His body was too hard, too physically haunted to be Thomas and as consciousness moved in, I realised it was Curtis.

He’d found me.

I tried to move away, but my body was exhausted and my mind lacked the energy I needed to push him away, when it wasn’t really what I wanted.

“Shh.” He stroked his hand through my hair and cupped my face. It was dark, but I felt his eyes on mine and sensed the warmth I thought they’d lost. “Just let me hold you.”

I nodded and slipped my arm under his to hold him back. His body tensed as if my touch burned him, but clamped his arm over mine when I tried to retreat.

“Hold me,” he breathed, his voice thick with conflicted emotion. “Hold me and fall asleep in my arms.”

I snuggled down in the arms of my dark, tormented man and closed my eyes.