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I opened my mouth to protest, to explain myself, but she already had me pegged.
"Who do you think you are? How did you even get on set?" Mallory didn't wait for my answer, reaching around to her back pocket. She wielded one of the black walkie talkies and I gasped like she pulled out a gun.
"I'm calling security-"
"Wait!" I almost lunged toward her, but there was something in her eyes that told me she would clock me right in the jaw without hesitation. Instead, I held out both my hands in a show of defenselessness. "You would totally be in the right if you called security and had me hauled out of here. I snuck on set. But I did it because I didn't know what else to do."
Her fingers held steady around the walkie, but the tense line of her jaw slackened ever so slightly. I swallowed, taking in the petite, but scrappy young woman in front of me. The eyes that were shooting poison darts at me looked so much like Desmond's that it made me ache. The hair was probably her mother. Or her father. I didn't know because I'd robbed Desmond and I of a chance at something real when I'd passed up opportunities to be honest. I wouldn't let him slip away without a hell of a fight. I couldn't.
"I'm in love with your brother," I eked out. There it was. The truth. The reason I hadn't been able to sleep since he stormed out of my life. The reason I'd walked away from the story. I wanted to blame it on my conscience, but it was so much more than that. I'd shelved the story because there was another one that was so much bigger. Our story, mine and Desmond's.
Mallory hadn't put the walkie away, but I could tell that I had her attention, so I kept talking.
"You know who I am, so you know that I lied about my intentions when I went to Hush. I pretended I was in the lifestyle, but I was really working on a story about the club." Guilt sat in my throat like a rock, the jagged edges cutting like a knife when her lips curled, letting out a hiss of disgust. I wasn't sure if she was more disgusted by the purpose of the club, or that I manipulated her brother. I couldn't do anything about the first, but I could do something about my piece. "After I met your brother, the story pretty much evaporated. He was dark and mysterious and fierce but...gentle. It was completely insane that I trust him, a virtual stranger, but there was something about him, in him, that called out to something in me-"
"I'm young, but I stopped believing in Disney movies a long time ago, Sin," she growled, spitting out the nickname I used at the club. She pointed at me with the antenna of the walkie. "You expect me to believe you fell in love with my brother when you don't know anything about him outside of the bedroom? What's his favorite color? What's his favorite movie? What's his favorite band? What's his favorite dish to cook?" She fired off the questions one by one and they hit me like bullets because she had a point.
My eyes fell to the floor, my face hot with embarrassment. There was a part of me that felt like I'd done enough, that if I wasn't so selfish, so hopeful for what we could be, I'd do the right thing and leave Desmond alone. That's why he hadn't answered my slew of texts, right?
But what was the point of the right thing if it didn't feel right? I knew I hadn't imagined the chemistry between us, a connection that I knew extended beyond the bedroom. I felt it when he held me, even though I knew that wasn't something he normally did. It was in the way he'd wrapped his arms around me the second night we were together, like he was navigating some mine field that would destroy us both. But when he let go, relaxed, and even joked with me, nothing felt more right. More perfect.
And when he saw me without my mask, he didn't shy away. He wanted to see me, and he let me see him. It was the possibility of something amazing that made me raise my chin and look his sister, who was clearly no fan of mine, dead in the eye and give her the only answer that mattered.
"All the things you listed could be gleaned from Facebook or any number of profiles that have been done on Desmond. I might not know his favorite color or his favorite movie, yet, but I know that he's stubborn as a freaking mule because he doesn't want anyone to know just how vulnerable he is. How he cares about people, and will fight for the things he's passionate about. I know that his smile is so powerful that it could damn near cure anything if we could bottle it up. And I know that he's terrified that if he lets people see him, all of him, that they would run for the hills...which couldn't be further from the truth. Because I see your brother. And he’s a good man.” I took a breath, not sure if my words were having an effect, and not caring if they didn’t. “The only thing I know for sure is that even if he doesn't want to be with me, he has completely changed my life. I believe in love again. And that's a gift I'll always be grateful for."
Mallory was still pointing the walkie at me, but her eyes no longer held contempt. They were filled with tears. Her lips still held a snarl, but they were shaking, emotion tearing through her. I didn't even bother holding my own emotions at bay, welcoming the tears with open arms.
Neither one of us said a word, both sniffling, waiting for the other to make the first move.
And then a sound reverberated from the door, the knob twisting.
I knew it was Desmond without even looking. I felt the air change, charged with his presence. When I glanced in his direction and watched the shock on his face morph into confusion, then anger, I braced myself for his wrath.
Mallory wiped her face with the back of her hand, finally putting the walkie away. "It's not me you have to convince."
She moved toward her brother, clapping him on the back. I could have sworn she said 'good luck' before she walked out the door, but I couldn't be certain because my heart was roaring in my ears as Desmond and I faced off.
I was gonna need all the help I could get.
Chapter Four: Desmond
Not answering Sophia's texts was one of the hardest things I'd ever done.
Saying those words, admitting that I wasn't the master of the universe, able to handle anything life threw at me without faltering, without difficulty, made me go back and take a hard look at my life.
The first restaurant I'd opened, O'Connell, was a fifties era inspired cafe, complete with neon signage, booths and vintage pieces that the interior designer I'd paid an arm and several legs for assured me would transport the customers to a time where food was simple yet delicious.
Situated in a hip gentrified neighborhood, O’Connell flopped royally. I was fresh out of culinary school, and cocky as hell with investor money burning a hole in my pocket. I believed my name and quality food was all it took to succeed in the restaurant business.
I was wrong...and it cost dozens of people their livelihood. Standing in front of my staff, their eyes hooded, the end inevitable considering the tables were always empty when they should have been filled, it still cut like a knife. Telling them that the restaurant was closing and they were out of a job was like ripping my heart right out of my chest. I promised that they would have a home at any of my future ventures, but I knew how worthless that promise was. Pinning their hopes on that wouldn't pay the bills that were due, or feed their kids or keep a roof over their heads.
And then there was Caity.
The night she ended our engagement and climbed into my mother's car, I had no idea it would be the last time I saw her smile...or my mother's. That call would haunt me for the rest of my life. The emergency responder's voice was soft, practically a whisper compared to my mother wailing in the background. She was repeating how sorry she was, over and over, her words slurred, begging for forgiveness. It took a few moments for me to realize that it was strange for some woman to be calling me on Caity's phone, then I connected 'accident' and 'God, Des I'm so sorry' and my whole world came crashing down. The woman who gave me life, who inspired my love for food, had ripped away the woman I was sure I'd spend the rest of my life with. God only knew how I found the strength to punch in the number to her parent's. Her father answered the phone, a kind man with a laugh that always disarmed me. He was the kind of father I wished I had, who spent his Sunday's watching football and fiercely loved his family. He'd joked that it must be serious, since the last time I'd called him, it was to ask for his permission to marry his daughter. Getting the words out felt like setting my soul on fire, turning all the happiness and hope for the future to ash.
And then there was Sophia. ‘Sin’. In her, I found a passion, a connection that I wasn't looking for, but was impossible to escape. Maybe it all began before our eyes even met. I could remember being intrigued, vividly, by a submissive who was unlike any other sub I'd met, taking down a man twice her size. She was a fighter, and just as bullheaded as me. And even though my head told me that she was unlike any sub I'd ever met because she wasn't a sub at all, I couldn't stop my heart from wondering if the truth was beneath all the bullshit.
That maybe she'd fallen for me too.
