Page 40 of Ruthless Desires, Vol. Two (Ruthless Desires Series Extended Editions #2)

Rhett

Thankfully, Sparrow has some information on Peter Huxley that proves to be helpful. He has a few legitimate businesses, but it seems like the bulk of his money is in underground gambling. My guess is that’s why Huxley sent two of his men to kidnap Aubrey in Florida. Ludo recently entered into the gambling scene, and Huxley was probably trying to blackmail him out of it.

As for his security, his house has a state-of-the-art system and a handful of guards there at all times. He’s rarely alone, but there’s one opening that looks like the perfect opportunity.

On Mondays, Huxley has a morning at home before eating lunch with his wife. At one o’clock, a car comes to pick him up and take him to his office.

There will already be two people in the car—his driver and his head of security, who’ll give him an update on the events of the previous night. So all we have to do is take them out, get the car to his house on time, and subdue him. It’s around eleven right now, which gives us plenty of time.

After I text with Elliot to iron out the details, Wren walks into the library. She’s dressed in leggings and a sweater, but her cozy outfit does little to disguise how nervous she looks.

“You okay?”

I ask from where I’m seated with my laptop in front of me.

She’s playing with a loose thread in her sweater as she comes to stand in front of my desk.

“I know you’re busy, but I need to talk to you.”

Shutting my laptop, I stand.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything’s perfect. I mean, as perfect as everything can be. But you… I…”

She drops the loose thread and twists her fingers together.

“I just need to say something. To you, specifically.”

My pulse picks up, but I keep my expression calm. “Go on.”

Inching closer, she reaches out to take my hand, but then she stops. After staying frozen for a moment, she lets her arm drop back down to her side.

“Did you know that when you guys first started coming to the coffee shop, I thought you hated me?”

I frown. “What?”

“You were always so tense. I took your order every time, and you’d barely look me in the eye, so I assumed I’d done something to offend you.”

“No. God, no, I never hated you. You were just…”

So beautiful. Unattainable. Safe when we were anything but.

“Maybe I was intimidated.”

At that, she laughs.

“You were intimidated by me?”

My only response is a nod, and her smile drops when she realizes I’m not joking. Her hand twitches at her side, like she’s stopping herself from touching me.

Not a good sign.

“What do you need to tell me?”

“I learned eventually that you didn’t hate me. Obviously.”

She laughs nervously.

“I’ve learned so much about you. I’ve watched you open up to me even though it tore you up inside. I’ve seen how deeply you care for Ell and Oliver. For… for me.”

And that’s when it clicks in my mind where she’s going with this. The one place I was hoping we could avoid a little longer.

“I can’t imagine my life without the three of you,”

she says.

“Without you, Rhett.”

Dread courses through my veins. I’m not ready for this. Not even close. Doesn’t matter how hard I tried to be.

What if she doesn’t understand?

“Sweetheart, I already know.”

“Please,”

Wren whispers.

“If something happens today—if one of you gets hurt, or caught, or…”

She doesn’t finish that last part, which is probably for the best.

“I need to say it. I need you to hear it.”

But I don’t think I can say it back.

My throat is closing in on itself, and my skin is on fire, but I don’t show it. The last time we went on a job without her, she almost died. I won’t take this from her if she needs it.

Wren doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t step any closer than she already is. But she holds my gaze as she takes a deep breath.

I hold my own in anticipation.

“I love you,”

she says.

“I have for a while now. Maybe before I should’ve, but I don’t care. I’ve been given the chance to be loved by one of the most caring, strong, and fiercely loyal men I’ve ever met. You make me feel seen, Rhett. And I see you. I see your struggles. I see your heart. And every time you reveal a new part of yourself, I fall more deeply in love with you. I don’t think I’ll ever stop, and I don’t want to.”

“Wren.”

Her name sounds wrong on my lips. My voice is broken. Distressed. A far cry from the joy and reciprocation she deserves.

“I don’t want you to say it back.”

A weight is lifted from my chest at the same time a new one crashes down on me. I have to grip the back of my chair to keep from losing my balance. “But—”

“Don’t. Not until you can say it without it making you uncomfortable. Without it making you think of him.”

“And if I never reach that point?” I rasp.

She smiles, even if it’s small.

“I know anyway.”

“You deserve better than that,”

I grit out.

“And you deserve to be loved the way you need to be loved. You deserve patience and understanding. You deserve to be told that you’re loved simply because it’s true. Not because I’m expecting you to say it back.”

“Wren—”

“It’s okay,”

she whispers.

No. No. This can’t happen like this. It can’t. It can’t, it can’t, it can’t. But I can’t bring myself to say the words.

Partly because of him, but also because she doesn’t want me to. Not like this.

My vision blurs. It’s like I’m stuck. Suspended between who I am and who I want to be. Between the darkness of my past and the love and safety of my present. My future.

Don’t let him win.

Fight for her—even if your best is what you wish was your worst.

There’s no possible way I can say the words. Wren deserves better than them being forced, anyway. But I have to do something. Anything. Anything other than standing here while she stares at me with such care, such understanding, even though I’m probably breaking her heart.

When I step toward Wren, she steps back. I try it again and get the same reaction. Again and again and again until she’s pressed up against one of the bookshelves.

She shakes her head.

“You don’t have to touch me.”

“I need to touch you.”

Wren frowns.

That’s not how this should go.

She should be smiling. She should be laughing and kissing you and hearing you say it back.

“You need to?”

She’s tilting her head, watching me with worry.

I grip the shelf on either side of her. The need to feel her against me is almost overpowering, but I can’t act on it. Not until I know she’s okay with it.

“It’s the only way I can…”

My head dips down until my lips are so close to her skin that I can almost taste her.

“Wren, I don’t know how else…”

She lets out the smallest breath before her hands curl into the fabric at my hips. When she tugs me closer, it’s all I can do to stop myself from falling into her. I wrap her up in my arms, crushing her to my chest even though I know my hold is probably too tight.

I don’t realize I’m crying until I feel Wren silently sobbing against me. My voice fails me when I try to console her, and that’s when I notice that my own cheeks are wet with tears.

“Rhett, I’m so sorry,”

she whispers as she looks up at me with glassy eyes.

“Why are you sorry?”

My voice is incredulous, the words uneven. I grab her face and thumb away her tears.

“You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Because you deserved so much better.”

Her hands cover mine.

“And he never deserved to have you. Not even for a split second. What he did to you…”

She tries to continue, but her face scrunches up, and the only sound that leaves her is a heavy sob.

Hearing Wren cry for my younger self feels like my heart is ripping in two. And then that cold feeling of guilt seeps into my skin and eats at my insides.

I should be past all this by now.

She deserves so much better. They all do.

As she sniffles, Wren wipes at my tears.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Don’t worry about it,”

I say gently.

“Hey, um…”

We both look up to find Elliot standing near the doorway. He’s fully dressed and ready to go. When he gets a better look at us, his brows knit together in a concerned frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just—”

Wren lets out a tearful laugh as she wipes at her cheeks.

“I just have really bad timing. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,”

I murmur. My heart may be aching, but if she needed to say it, then I’m happy she did.

“We can finish this when we get home.”

Wren nods.

“I’d like that.”

Leaving her is physically painful, but the sooner we leave, the sooner we get back home. So we keep our goodbye short, and I do my best to clear my mind as we head out.

Wren waves at us from the garage, and I lift my hand in return.

I love you too, sweetheart, I think to myself. And I’m sorry I can’t be what you need.