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  Copyright © Lovy Books Ltd, 2019

  Summer Cooper has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  Lovy Books Ltd

  20-22 Wenlock Road

  London N1 7GU

  Contents

  1. Emily

  2. Dylan

  3. Emily

  4. Emily

  5. Dylan

  6. Dylan

  7. Emily

  8. Dylan

  9. Dylan

  10. Emily

  11. Dylan

  12. Emily

  13. Emily

  14. Dylan

  15. Emily

  16. Dylan

  17. Dylan

  18. Emily

  19. Dylan

  20. Emily

  What more does he want?

  Summer Cooper

  Emily

  “Emily, wait!” I heard him call out behind me just as the elevator reached the penthouse floor.

  I turned my head, a small flutter of hope in my heart. I saw Dylan there, and the flutter in my heart became quiet as the beats thudded to a halt. His strong face, with features even Jensen Ackles would envy, was schooled into an uncertain expression. My fingers twitched. What was he going to say? Would he spew more angry words at me, or would he ask me to explain?

  Please ask me to explain, I thought, but didn’t say out loud. I looked at him and felt a knot form in my stomach. His dark hair was hanging down into his eyes, and I wanted to brush it away. My fingers twitched, my feet clenched in my sandals, but I held myself in place.

  Dylan had just discovered my most hidden secret, and this moment would either make us or break us. He knew who I was. He now knew who my family was, but more importantly, who my brother was—an enemy he’d never asked for. Who could blame the man for that initial expression of betrayal that he’d worn on his face? Or the pain that turned his gray eyes into storm clouds. Those clouds had eventually blended into questions, questions that he wanted answers to.

  I’d give him those answers, so long as he’d let me stay there with him. “Dylan?”

  “Why, Steph … Emily? Why the lie?” He scrubbed at his jaw with his palm, pain etched all over his face, a gut-wrenching replacement for the anger that had been there moments ago.

  “I…” but I stopped. I looked around the foyer as I held the elevator door open, I didn’t want to do this out here. I let the door close and waved around. “Not out here. Please.”

  It wasn’t like anyone would see us, but this just felt too open to prying eyes for me. The things we needed to talk about were private matters, things that needed to be said where nobody else could hear. Where no witnesses could overlook your most broken moments. Because I knew that if he offered me a reconciliation, it would come at a cost. I sniffed as tears stung the back of my eyes and somewhere high up in my nose.

  My prompt spurred him back into life. “Come back in. Let’s talk about this.”

  “Alright.” If it had been anyone else, the pure bile he’d spit at me when I walked into his living room only moments ago would have had me hauling ass out the door and into the elevator, but this was Dylan. My heart and soul. I’d stand there for the rest of my life if he wanted me to.

  The sound the door made when it closed was loud in the quiet room, I was so afraid. Not afraid of him, I knew what Dylan was capable of, and harming me on purpose out of anger wasn’t one of them. My fear came from my own worry that I’d make a mess of it all, that I’d get defensive and wouldn’t use the same techniques I’d learned to use long ago with my father and brothers.

  The same thing that let me walk into the living room with my head bowed in submission and led me to sit in the floor, by the arm of the couch. He always sat on the end closest to the wall, and that was where I arranged myself now.

  “No, Emily. There, please.” I looked to where his hand pointed and for a minute, my heart broke. He didn’t want me at his feet. He wanted me further away, at the other end of the couch. Where I couldn’t touch him?

  I didn’t protest; instead, I did as I was instructed and sat at the other end of the couch. I dropped my bag at the side of the couch and pulled my upper lip between my teeth to keep myself quiet. I folded my hands in my lap and crossed my ankles. The black Hermes sandals weighed my feet down, and the tight material of the dress made it hard to move around too much so fidgeting would not be a problem. I kept my head bowed and waited.

  “Explain it to me, Emily.” He sat at the other end of the couch and when I glanced to the side, I could see he was faced toward me. I took a deep breath and looked at the picture still frozen on the screen.

  Ember and Kevin, smiling into the camera, happy and on top of the world. Behind them, I stood with a baby in my arms, my face tight and pinched. The baby had kept me up the night before with colic, while they’d slept the night away in a separate hotel room. Then we’d made a mad dash around the country, me still with the baby in tow because they wouldn’t let me take their daughter back to their house in Nashville. They didn’t want her too far out of their sight, and I couldn’t blame them, but the traveling didn’t help the baby’s colic at all. I’d wanted to burst into tears the moment that picture had been taken because I’d felt like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders, and no way to get out of the situation I was in.

  “I think that picture explains it all, Dylan.” I limply pointed at myself with my right hand, then continued. “I was always in the shadows, behind my brothers. Never in the light.”

  “Okay. So you were the poor little rich girl. I get it. How did that lead you to me? What have you told Trent about me?” His jaw tightened, and I wanted to warn him he’d crack his teeth if he kept that up, but I didn’t allow myself to do that.

  I stared at him, anger in his dismissive tone made my eyes narrow. He had no idea about my life, but because he was angry, he got to judge me.

  “No, I don’t think you do get it, Dylan.” I turned toward him, a little bit of backbone coming back into my posture. “I spent my entire life taking care of those jerks, and where did it get me? They didn’t even remember my birthday this year. They knew my number when they needed me, when their kids needed looking after, or before, when they’d thrown a party that had gotten too out of hand and someone needed to calm the police down, but otherwise? I wasn’t a member of the family. I was the nanny, the fixer, the one who took care of all their problems. I gave my entire life to them, yet, not a single one seemed to actually care about me.”

  I swiped at a tear I didn’t want to shed. I didn’t want to be pitied, I wanted to be understood. “I didn’t know what actual love was until my nephews and nieces came along, and I fell in love with them. That’s when I knew what love really was. As the years went on, and I didn’t have time to go on a date, much less have a long enough relationship to make a baby of my own, I decided I wanted some of that for myself. I wanted a relationship, a man who made me feel alive, loved, and wanted. Maybe not permanently, but I wanted to experience it. Or the illusion of it, at least.”

  I paused, took a deep breath, and lifted my eyes to his. “I met Roxie at a charity event I went to, and we became friends. She told me about her world, about the clu
b, and that made this itch start inside of me. I wanted to be free. I wanted to be the kind of alive she told me about. The kind where you didn’t travel across America at the whim of your family or go to bed with snotty kisses on your face and puke all over you because you’re just too tired to take a shower or change clothes. I wanted the world she whispered to me about with fire in her eyes.”

  “It was Roxie who set this up then?” His eyes narrowed, and I could see the wheels turn in his mind. I wanted to nip that assumption in the bud right away.

  “No. She set it up so that I could go to the club, yes, but the rest? I wanted to find myself a happily ever after when I first started to think about moving on from my family, but then I thought—why go straight into the same kind of life I wanted to leave behind? Why not have some fun, be bad, and see what life has to offer first? Why not be a little wild before I make myself someone’s nanny all over again? Roxie didn’t have anything to do with that. She didn’t plot with my brother to get us together either. The two have never met.” The firm tone and the look I shot him made no bones about that.

  He nodded, and I could see a slight bit of color creep up his neck as I stared him down. Good, he should feel a bit of discomfort for even thinking any of this. I couldn’t blame him, not really, but that didn’t make it right.

  “So, Trent didn’t…” He stopped, and he had the good grace to wince at his own logic.

  I sighed heavily and clenched my fingers together tighter. I wanted to whack him on the arm with something, but thought if I touched him the whole truce we’d called might shatter.

  “Do you really think Trent Thompson would send his little sister into an adult club to make a whore out of herself just to humiliate you, Dylan?”

  “You aren’t a whore,” Dylan said immediately as he leaned toward me.

  That gave the hope in my heart a reason to grow, but I kept it in check.

  “ That’s what you’re implying, Dylan. That my brother sent me to you to whore myself out in order to spy on you.” Now that I’d said it out loud, it really hurt. This time the tear that streaked down my face burned hot, and I swiped at it angrily.

  “I guess that is how it sounds.” He sighed and leaned against the plush back of the couch, his right thumb and forefinger in his eyes. “Fuck, where did this all go wrong?”

  “You assumed. A lot of people do that when it comes to me.” Now that his fury had passed, my own started to build. It wasn’t really logical, but now that I’d said it out loud, it made me angry that he’d thought I’d let someone do that to me. Or that my brother would sink that low.

  Well, to be fair, Trent had been a huge dick lately, so maybe it wasn’t so far-fetched, but still, to think that I’d do that?

  “I’m sorry. It was just … a shock.” He pulled his hand away and looked at me. His eyes were red from his rubbing, but they were the same gray eyes I’d come to adore so much.

  My anger fled, hurt the final negative emotion to remain. I wasn’t sure how long that would take to ease, but I knew I wasn’t out of the woods yet.

  “I know. By the time I figured out who you were, by the time Trent had even mentioned your name in my presence, it was too late. I didn’t know you, not really, and all he said was some complaint about you being here. In his town. Whatever that means.” I left off the part about patricide and kept quiet for a moment.

  “I guess I mentioned Trent a time or two myself. So it’s not totally out of the realm of possibility for Trent to mention me. Yes, after our first meeting, I guess it was kind of hard to tell me who you really were. Not just because of your family, but because I could have used that as leverage against you.”

  “I don’t think you’d ever do that, Dylan.” I started to reach out to him but pulled my hand back. “It’s just not who you are.”

  “No, you’re right.” He got up, his eyes still on the screen, and for the first time I saw realization dawn on his face as he looked at me, hidden in the shadows. “You know, I saw the same thing on your social networks, and it didn’t really hit me until now. The only time you aren’t in the shadows is when you have a kid in your arms. The rest of the time … wow. That is pretty shitty of your family.”

  He turned and looked down at me, sadness in his eyes.

  “It’s nothing like your story.” I interrupted whatever else he’d meant to say.

  “Well, no, it’s not. We all have our burdens to bear, in our own ways.” He didn’t even question how I knew exactly what his story was.

  I’d learned it from the things he’d said and from the news stories I’d found online. He’d had a traumatic childhood, and mine would never compare with his, but as he’d said, trauma was relative.

  “It’s hardly surprising you wanted someone to see you, Emily.”

  The way he said my name, as if it was unfamiliar but already adored, made me smile. “I just wanted to feel alive, more than anything, Dylan. You do that. You made me feel real, and I didn’t want to lose that over who my family was. I wanted to tell you, I planned to tell you tonight, but you beat me to it. Or, Ember’s new album beat me to it.”

  He shoved his hands down in his pockets and breathed in deep and slow. “What do we do now?”

  “Well, I’ve officially been kicked out of my family. You remember that day when we saw Trent? That was the day he figured out I was seeing you and convinced my father to disown me.”

  “Wait, what? He fucking did what?” Dylan stood. His anger made his gray eyes darker somehow, and I could feel the waves of his emotions as he stood over me.

  “He convinced my father to…” I had to pause. My throat closed up tight, and white-hot tears leaked out of my eyes like traitorous little diamonds. I put my hand over my mouth as reality set in, and pain tore through me. I’d never see any of them again.

  “Emily, Jesus, why didn’t you say anything to me, woman?” He came to me, knelt in front of me as I bent over my knees. Pain made my stomach ache, and my head swam as I tried not to sob. “Baby, please. Don’t make yourself sick.”

  That’s when I started to sob.

  Dylan

  She betrayed you. She lied. She didn’t tell you the whole truth. Words and emotions swirled within me as Emily curled in on herself, her emotions out of control. She’d broken, and I hadn’t exactly meant to do that. Sure, part of me felt justified, felt as if she deserved to be so remorseful. She cried her eyes out, but it gave me no real satisfaction to see it come to life.

  The man I was two months ago wouldn’t have cared. He might have even felt some satisfaction in watching a woman break down into tears, but that wasn’t the same man I was now. This moment brought me no joy, and I couldn’t let her carry on, so completely lost.

  As I watched the only lover I’d ever cared about fall to pieces before me, I forgot the betrayal and anger I’d felt and tried to ease her discomfort. I wrapped my hands around her shoulders and pulled her into my arms. She didn’t resist at all; rather, she fell into my arms, and her face found its home in my neck.

  “Shh, Emily, calm down, please. You will make yourself sick.”

  I tried not to think about the way I’d felt, or how much I wanted to kill her family for making her cry like this. At that point, the fact that she’d hidden who she was from me, kind of made sense. She’d wanted a moment of not being a Thompson, of not being the sister/caretaker/nanny. She’d just wanted to have what even her brothers had been able to have. A fucking life.

  I held her to me and let her cry herself out. We’d talk about the rest of it later. For now, she needed to know she was in a safe place, more than I needed to rampage like a wild animal because she’d kept her identity a secret from me.

  I even liked her real name more than the one she’d given me. Emily suited her perfectly. I sat on the couch and pulled her into my lap. Her body was swathed in mine, and for this moment the world couldn’t harm her. I kissed the top of her head as the sobs finally began to taper off.

  I’d had a shitty upbringing, there was
no doubt about that. My mother was, at the very least, psychotic. My father had wanted to keep her calm and happy, but he’d only made matters worse. The end of their lives had almost brought me peace. It brought me the couple that gave me a new chance at life and gave me all the love they could. The tragedy that was my early childhood had become a triumph.

  Emily’s misery had gone on her entire life, and for whatever ridiculous reason, none of her family did anything about it. From the way she described, and the photo evidence I’d seen, she was their whipping boy. It infuriated me that the moment she stood up for herself and demanded some respect, they’d shut her down. She didn’t have to explain it any more than she had. It wasn’t just me who had angered Trent, it was the fact that she’d tried to have a life of her own for once that had really pissed him off.

  “What is wrong with your family?” I asked softly, half hoping she wouldn’t hear me because I didn’t really want to set her off into a flood of tears all over again. The question felt almost cruel, and I winced when she slid off my lap, running her fingers through her hair.

  “Oh, they’ve been fucked up since day one. My father’s first wife, Trent’s mother, died when she was young, and my father replaced her with my mother. I think my mom was meant to be a trophy wife, someone to fill his empty arm when he went to social functions. Sure, he had a few more children with her, but I would never say my parents were in love, or even liked each other. Respect, yes, definitely, but anything else? No. They lead such different lives.”