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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

VALE

“Can I ask a question?”

I rest on Nash’s chest, feeling it silently shake with laughter at the sentence that pops out of my mouth hourly.

His fingertips linger up and down my naked back. “Can I ever stop you?”

I grin, tracing over the fangs of the lion on his pec. Waiting. Annoying. Happy because eventually, he growls, “For the love of god, just ask.”

“Why do you call me ‘poison’? I get calling someone ‘baby’ or kinky names during sex, but poison is deadly and?—”

“Because it kills me, Vale.” He lifts my chin so our eyes meet. “It kills me to want you like this, to feel this way about you, knowing no one can ever know, and we can never really be together.”

“We can keep it a secret, like you said.”

“Not for long. They’ll figure it out.”

“They?”

His sigh is heavy.

“Do you mean Alena?”

“Yes,” he answers. “Definitely her. And my … brothers, so to speak.”

“But Jace knows.”

“He’s the only one.”

“Why would they care?”

“We care about someone when a brother cares about her. We make a vow to protect her, too.”

“Um, Houston,” I reply, “I fail to see a problem. You and a bunch of hot men who look like you, all tatted and jacked, caring enough to protect me? Feel free to convince me that’s not every woman’s fantasy.”

A dark storm takes his eyes. He gets serious. Deadly serious. “You’re too smart not to realize it’s only fantasy in fiction. In real life, it’s a gilded, barbed, and bloody cage, and you don’t belong in it. I’ll never allow it.”

Resting my head back on his chest, I listen to his heartbeat. His lips softly graze my hair, his arms squeezing me tight. This intimate, tender side of Nash makes my throat tight, overwhelmed with emotions, but still, I whisper, “I kinda love your cage.”

He whispers, “I kinda love holding you in it.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“I won’t give you a choice.”

For minutes, we don’t speak. He holds me, and I hold him back. Finally, he’s the one asking a question. “How do we do this?”

“Cherish it while it lasts?”

“Yes,” his voice is deep and soft. “But I mean … this .” He wraps his leg over mine. “How do we sleep together tonight? I’ve never slept with a woman.”

I giggle. I can’t help it. “So you’re a virgin with miraculous fingers and a transcendent tongue?”

He laughs, too. “Must be all those pussy books of yours I read.”

“Are you serious?” I pop up, my hand braced against his granite pec. “You’ve never shook the sheets with a woman and then slept with her? Like slept ?”

“Why would I?”

“Because, in the least, you were fucking exhausted. I mean … got exhausted fucking, but at the most,” I kiss his chest, “it’s romantic, like a movie.”

His fingertip traces over the bow in my lips. “I’m beginning to see that now.”

It tickles. It makes me smile. “You need to stop making this go from an X-rated movie night to a G-rated one where I’m feeling all gooey inside.”

Too late. I’m a goner. He smiles and slings sunshine everywhere.

“Then just answer me,” he insists. “How do we sleep? Back to back as usual? Back to front? With your head on my chest?”

“Or your head on mine.”

“Poison, I won’t sleep with your breasts in my face.”

“Fine.” I lean over and click off the lamp before I suggest, “Let’s just sleep like this.” I nestle back into the spot that’s mine now. I’ve claimed it. It’s the one over his tiger while I caress his lion.

Silently, he holds me. His legs intertwine with mine, but then I remember, “I’m dress shopping with Alena tomorrow.”

“Okay, shhh.”

“But, what will I say?”

“Words. Lots of them, I’m sure.”

“But, Nash.

“Vale,” he softens his voice. “Shut up.”

“But—”

“Shut up,” he cups my head on his chest, his voice even softer, “and let me finally sleep with my woman.”

Oh…

My heart flutters.

Okay.

“Now, this is Givenchy couture.” The owner of the wedding boutique presents a stunning gown to Alena. “Ivory Alecon lace bodice, off-the-shoulder neckline…”

Alena looks so happy and beautiful in a blush silk robe as she considers dress number five.

“What do you think?” she asks me.

“I think you’ll look beautiful in anything.”

“I need my best friend right now,” she says, “not my maid of honor. Where are your truth bullets when I need them? What do we think; should I wear ivory or white? Be honest.”

Be honest?

I can’t.

I’m squirming on this pink velvet bench in this exclusive bridal dressing room because Nash sits in the front reception area with Loch, Alena’s fiancé.

One might think it odd that the bride’s father and the groom are present, but nope, not when you’re sort of not-mafia-mafia.

Nash is guarding me, and I guess Alena’s bodyguard lurks somewhere outside the boutique, too.

I thought I could do this, especially after Nash’s stern morning reminders that Alena can’t find out. Talk about ruining my orgasmic glow. I don’t get to have one because I’m too focused on lying to my best friend.

So, I dole out little truths. “Okay, honestly, I vote for the Vivienne Westwood so far because you smiled the most in it. You were slinging sunshine with that gorgeous face.”

Just like your dad did in my bed last night.

After he made me come, then cry, then come again so hard that it ruined my life because now I know I can come with him, so I never want to let him go. Oh, and I’m in love with him, too.

Phew.

At least I can think the truth.

“Sorry, I’m late.” A thick, sweet Southern voice breezes into the dressing room. “I had to get your favorite treat ever since you were a little girl, a Rainbow Row white chocolate bar. It pairs perfectly with champagne because, sweetie, this is a celebration!”

Ms. Faye glides across the room in her ivory Chanel boucle dress, wearing it with grace and grit while she carries a gift bag from a local chocolatier.

She pulls Alena into a big hug. She’s like her grandmother—a gorgeous, hot grandma—and I worship her, too.

She not only protected Alena, giving her and her teenage mother an apartment rent-free, she babysat, too. She practically raised Alena, especially after her mom died.

Ms. Faye’s like me—Alena’s family now.

Those in the know also know that Ms. Faye owns the most exclusive, private sex club in Charleston. She’s a legend. An icon. And yes, Alena knows about it and is forbidden to go, but I do.

Or did until Nash came around.

There, Ms. Faye rules her club with her dark hair in an elegant French twist and her piercing eyes, watching every member, making sure all follow her rules, though I’ve never seen her partake in the fun.

She’s always dressed like high society, the ultimate hostess, but make no mistake. She rules with an iron fist. Men who break her rules pay a painful price.

“We’re trying to decide,” Alena updates her, “should I wear ivory or white?”

“Darlin’,” Ms. Faye drawls, “you’re a queen. Wear both.”

Alena tries on two more white laced-with-ivory dresses while Faye and I sit together, sipping champagne. It makes me miss Blair, too, but I understand. Her heart can’t handle this.

Mine barely can, and not because I’m excited for Alena. She’ll make a beautiful, happy bride.

I can’t handle the thought of ruining this for her. Of breaking her heart before her happiest day. Of killing our friendship when I need it, and she needs it too.

I can see the “Am I The Asshole?” Reddit thread about me now. The viral answer? Yes, you’re the asshole maid-of-honor who ruined your best friend’s wedding by fucking her father.

Not the claim to fame I’m going for.

“Now, then,” Ms. Faye grins, nudging me, “just what kinda trouble have you gotten yourself into?”

I sputter my champagne, “I’m sorry. What?”

“Honey, I can tell when a cat has eaten a canary.” She winks. “What’s his name?”

Close your mouth, Vale.

“Oh, come on now.” She laughs. “There are no secrets and shame in our secret, shameful world, so tell me. I haven’t seen you at the club in weeks, and darlin’, I can always tell when a lady has been laid properly. Finally , in your case.”

“How… How did you know?”

Yes, I’ve fucked at Ms. Faye’s club. Almost everyone does. I mean, you don’t go to a sex club for the music.

She leans her rouge red lips toward my ear, whispering, “Every time a woman fakes an orgasm, a tiny part of my heart dies, and honey, I’ve watched you do it for years. So, congratulations. You glow.”

I glow? How? I’m about five minutes from puking chunks of guilt and truth.

We don’t have time to gossip more because Alena steps out in dress number seven. “I love this one,” she beams, and Faye and I fight tears.

“Oh, my gosh, Alena, you look stunning.” I rush to hug her.

“That’s the one, sweetie,” Ms. Faye agrees. “You look like a queen.”

“But it’s fifty thousand dollars,” she worries. “I can’t ask my dad to spend that kind of money.”

“You just let me handle this.” Faye winks. “Nash,” she calls, “get your tail in here and tell your beautiful daughter she can have whatever she wants.”

“She can.” I hear Nash answer before he sweeps aside the white velvet curtain and stops dead in his tracks.

For the first time, I see tears well in his eyes at the sight of Alena, and I’m done. Nothing is more beautiful than a father crying at the sight of his child.

Tears spill down my cheeks while she tenderly asks, “Dad, what do you think?”

Nash swallows hard, his voice choked as he answers. “I feel like the luckiest father to have a beautiful daughter like you.” He swallows again. “And your mother would agree.”

“Oh, she’s watching,” Faye softly adds. “She’s our angel.”

Alena wipes her eyes, her cheeks hitched high in a smile. “But it’s fifty thousand dollars, Dad. It’s too expensive.”

“It’s priceless and yours,” Nash answers. “You never let me spoil you, and since we can’t have the wedding at our home because of the repairs, let me at least give you the dress, flowers, reception, and everything else you want.”

Nash told Alena there was a major sewage leak in their house, and they had to evacuate. It requires months of plumbing repairs, and it’s a shitty lie.

Since that night, he won’t allow anyone to return to his home. Not until the Bridge Bastard is caught. Alena thinks he’s staying at a hotel while he rents her a little apartment. He said he didn’t want to crash at her new place while Loch was there.

When really? Nash has been crashing into me.

So, I cheered Alena on, getting her excited about her wedding at the Dunes Golf and River Club. A simple ceremony under the canopy of a vast oak tree dripping with Spanish moss by a Lowcountry river is very romantic. And it’s what Nash wants, too.

“I can secure that location. We own it,” he told me this morning. “So please help me get her excited about it.”

“Alena, are you crying?” A gravel voice calls from the other side of the velvet curtain. “Are you okay, babygirl?”

“We’re fine,” she answers Loch. “But don’t come in. I found my dress, and you can’t see it.”

My stare bounces from her, stunning and happy, to Nash, stoic with snarling lips.

What? Does he not like Loch, his future son-in-law? I don’t know why. He’s perfect, like made-to-order for Alena.

Or is it the “babygirl” nickname?

Yep, that’s it. Because if I’m imagining Loch growling it in Alena’s ear while he pulls her hair and she rides him hard … so is Nash.

Okay, that’s kinda funny.

I found Nash’s Kryptonite. I’ll have to give him hell about it later.

But later, after I have to make up a lie to Alena about why I can’t come back to her new apartment and have a girls’ night together, it’s not funny.

Because I can’t go without Nash’s protection. All the while, Alena’s at risk, and some secret bodyguard is protecting her, too. The whole thing sucks and makes me sick. So sick, I can’t speak. When Nash and I return to my place, I flop on my bed, defeated.

“Since when do you not talk?” he asks, setting his Beretta on my nightstand.

“Since I have to lie to my best friend’s beautiful face.” I stare at the ceiling. “Let’s kick this off. Go ahead. Ways we’re going to break her heart.”

“Her heart won’t break because we’ll never tell her.”

I jolt up. “But I can’t lie to her. I never have.”

He pulls his shirt off, revealing his inked muscles, and yes, I can drool and be pissed at life at the same time.

“You can keep secrets, Vale. Me and you and the pool. You and your orgasm problem I fixed. All the kinks you know about your customers. And the?—”

“Quit listening to me when I don’t want you to.”

“Too late,” he barks. “It all is. We’re in this until it ends.”

“But how does it end?”

“It ends when we find our man unguarded. When we have a chance to strike. Until then, I protect you, and you keep your mouth closed.”

“So once you catch and kill the Bridge Bastard, it’s over?” I pause, my heart heavy as it sinks in. “ We’re over?”

He drops his pants, his sexy, black boxer briefs making this worse. “We have to be, and you know it.”

He picks them up, neatly draping them over my loveseat’s arm before sitting beside me on the bed.

But he doesn’t hold me. He keeps a painful distance.

“Did you feel it today, too?” he asks, staring at the floor, not me. “Did you feel great, then sick with guilt about last night? About trying to hide it from Alena?”

“Yes,” I admit. “I hated it.”

“Me, too,” he sighs. “When it was just my work, and she was a child, I felt no guilt about hiding it from her. The lie protected her. But now, she’s an adult, and I’ve made tough decisions she can’t know about, either. And I’ve made peace with it because it’s the right thing to do. She’s safe. She’s happy. But she won’t be if she ever finds out about us.”

“What kind of decisions?”

“Details,” he warns, not looking at me, not telling me the whole truth.

I have that nagging feeling there’s so much Nash isn’t telling me. I get not revealing names, crimes, and incriminating details about their operations.

Honestly, I don’t want to know. But there’s something more. A lot more.

It’s that maddening feeling you get when you walk into a room; everyone knows the secret but you. Everyone is connected but you. You’re on the outside, and they’ll never let you in.

“Your details are real lady-boner killers,” I mumble.

“It’s probably safest that way. In fact,” he turns to me, stoic and cold, “let’s keep it that way tonight.”

We sleep back-to-back, and tonight turns into three.

Part of me understands; I feel the same as Nash about Alena. Part of me grieves; I may never feel anything like I did with Nash.