Echo: A Dark Billionaire Romance (Bleeding Hearts Book 1) (20 page)

As though sensing my withdrawal, he kissed me softly and moved from the bed, retrieving some clean clothes from the dresser across the room. He walked towards the bathroom and glanced over his shoulder, pausing as he struggled to find the right words.

      
“I left something there for you.” He nodded to the bedside table.

The door closed behind him, and I picked up the tablet beside me. When I saw my brother’s name typed into the search box, and the results that followed, my breath stuttered in my chest.

I almost didn’t want to believe it was real. It was easier to think this was some sort of cruel trick than the truth. But as I clicked on article after article, they all said the same thing.

Shocking new evidence in the Valentine Murder case. The State’s Attorney of Cook County released a statement at seven am this morning. The details are being kept under wraps, but he confirmed there is new evidence being considered.

The news outlets were rife with speculation about what this could mean, and there was only one man with the power to move things this fast.

Tears clogged my eyes when I understood why Ryland had left me so abruptly. It was a test. He wanted to see if I’d meant what I said. If now that the evidence was turned over, I would fulfill my end of the bargain.

I dropped the tablet on the bed and padded into the bathroom. When I opened the shower door, he gave me a wary look before I bounded into his arms.

“Ryland, what you’ve just done…”

“This doesn’t change anything, Brighton,” he cut me off. “You belong to me now. Regardless of what happens with Brayden.”

I chose to ignore the biting tone of his voice as I nuzzled against his chest.

      
“I know,” I whispered. “I’m yours, Ryland.”

***

I smoothed the silky black material through my fingers as I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

“Does it look… okay?”

“It looks like I want to tear it off of you right now,” he murmured into my hair as he smoothed his hand up my side.

“Yeah right. I know how much this dress cost,” I retorted.

It was the real reason I was uncomfortable. I’d never worn anything this expensive in my life. But if I was being honest, it was the sexiest dress I’d ever seen. Elegant and simple, with the added bonus of making my legs look long for the first time in my life. The material clung to my body in a way that with just the right touch, it would slide off of me like butter. There was sex appeal in that, and I could certainly see it reflected in Ryland’s eyes as his hands roamed over me.

      
“Do you think I give a fuck about that?” he asked. “You belong to me now, baby girl. And I take care of what’s mine.”

I flashed him a nervous smile as my knees wobbled beneath me. When he said those words, it sounded like this was a permanent arrangement in his mind. And yet, he couldn’t admit he had feelings for me. As happy as I was about Brayden, I kept feeling like I was missing something. A larger part of the puzzle. Ryland still hadn’t revealed his reasons for doing what he’d done, and when I thought about it, it all seemed too easy. Like I’d played right into his hands somehow. I didn’t like to think that way, but what choice did I have?

As though he could sense my mind wandering into dangerous territory, Ryland distracted me by dragging his fingertips up my spine.

“This is my favorite part,” he confessed.

“It’s a beautiful dress,” I admitted. “I can only imagine how much trouble you went through to get it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I may be from a lower class,” I quipped. “But even I know this is one of the best designers in Spain.”

He arched an eyebrow at me, and I smiled at the surprise that lay beneath the surface of those blue depths.

“I guess you don’t know everything about me after all, Ryland Bennett. Like my weakness for fashion.”

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I didn’t know that before. But now that I do, I’ll be certain to put it to good use.”

“You can’t,” I let the words fall from my mouth in a moment of rare honesty.

“Brighton…” His voice held a hint of warning, and I smiled at him. He thought I was being modest, but he had no idea.

“I do like fashion,” I explained. “But not because I want to own nice pieces, even though they are lovely…”

My words trailed off as I tried to find the courage to finish. Revealing such a childish dream to someone as successful as Ryland was ridiculous now that I thought about it. I wished I’d never said anything at all.

“Tell me,” he breathed against my throat.

I closed my eyes and relaxed into his warmth, allowing the words to spill free.

“I like to sew them,” I explained. “Unique pieces, I mean.”

      
“You know how to sew?” he sounded genuinely perplexed as he spun me around and studied my face.

      
“Well, I didn’t for a long time,” I admitted. “But one of our neighbors did. Mrs. Wilson. She was a cranky old lady that I convinced to teach me.”

“And how did you do that?” Ryland asked.

      
“She agreed to let me cook her meals twice a week in exchange for some sewing lessons,” I explained. “It wasn’t a great offer since I wasn’t a very a good cook. But she still taught me anyway, and I got pretty good at it.”

Ryland let out a hearty laugh that shocked me, and pretty soon I was laughing too.

“You surprise me sometimes,” he said. “A lot actually.”

I smiled, but his rare moment of honesty was dimmed by the darkness taking over his features again.

“So what happened with the sewing?” he asked. “Do you still do it?”

I shrugged and cast my eyes to the floor. “I sewed a few prom dresses every year for some of the locals, until Brayden’s… well, until, you know. Naively I thought it was something I could really do. It was how I stayed sane I guess, dreaming of creating my own designs and doing what I loved.”

“You still could,” Ryland said softly. “You’re only twenty-one, Brighton. You still have your whole life ahead of you.”

I shook my head and gave him a weak smile. “Those kinds of dreams are for people who don’t have to face reality,” I replied.

For the first time since I’d known him, Ryland actually looked guilty. Was it because he thought he was helping to destroy my dreams? If that was the case, it couldn’t be farther from the truth. The truth was I was too much of a coward to go after a dream that big. Every time I’d even considered it, I would hear Norma-Jean’s voice inside of my head. She’d tell me that kind of stuff was for rich kids who didn’t have to work. And though I never liked to give her credit, I knew she was right.

“Here.”

Ryland walked around in front of me and handed me another one of his signature red flowers. I twirled the stem in my fingers and brought it to my nose, inhaling the subtle fragrance.

“Why always these flowers?” I asked.

He smiled as though he’d been expecting this question and trailed his fingertips over the delicate petals.

“Do you know what the lotus symbolizes?”

“Not really,” I answered. “But I know they grow in mud, right?”

“Yes.” He moved his fingertips to my face, his eyes lingering on mine while he explained. “They grow from the most unexpected of places, and for that reason many cultures regard them as a symbol of purity and beauty. It was the same thing I thought the first time I saw you.”

“You did?” I blinked in surprise.

“It was unexpected,” he admitted. “To see a girl like you in that place. From that family. So pure and kind and innocent. I didn’t think it could be real, but you’ve proven me wrong, Brighton. You prove me wrong every day.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ryland took me to a private club that was all the rage in the financial district. The entire place was decked out in rich black leather and deep shades of crimson. It screamed of exclusivity. One foot in the door and I could practically smell the money rolling off of these suits.

The club was cordoned off into separate areas that included a cigar bar and a curtained area called the dark room. I didn’t even want to guess what was behind that one and was grateful when Ryland led me straight past it.

Every pair of eyes in the room fell on us as we walked by, and my skin burned under the weight of their shrewd appraisals. Curt nods were given by other men I assumed were business associates. But it was the women that I noticed. While Ryland’s place in society was always present in the back of my mind, it was easy to forget when he was with me. But here now, in this room where women looked at him as though he were a piece of meat, I couldn’t forget. They blushed from head to toe if Ryland even deigned to smile at them as we walked by.

My body grew tight, and I wanted to ask him why he’d ever brought me to such a place. It was clear not only to me but to everyone else in here I didn’t belong.

“All of their eyes are on you,” he remarked.

I met the inappropriate gaze of several women as they sized him up and tightened my grip on his hand. Suddenly I found myself feeling very possessive of him.

Ryland’s eyes danced with amusement as he leaned down to whisper in my ear.

“I like it when you’re greedy.”

I shot him a glare and he led me to a podium in the back, where a woman with a classy black pant suit greeted us. At least she had the decency not to stare.

“Mr. Bennett, Miss Valentine, how lovely of you to join us this evening. I have a private room for you right this way.”

I arched a brow at Ryland as we followed behind her, hand in hand. She led us to a private lounge area that was completely enclosed in red velvet curtains.

She held them open as Ryland thanked her, pulling me inside along with him.

“I’ve set up the bar as per your request,” she finished off pleasantly. “Is there anything else I can get you, sir?”

“No, thank you,” He replied. “Just see that we’re not disturbed for the rest of the evening.”

She smiled and bowed out. “As you wish.”

Once the curtain closed, soft mood lighting and a sense of calm enveloped me. I settled onto the chaise against the wall, allowing my eyes to wander over the room while Ryland removed his jacket and tie.

Laid out on the table before me was an impressive spread of appetizers and desserts, complete with a chilled bottle of champagne. And even though we’d already eaten dinner, I couldn’t stop eyeing the chocolate confections that were temptingly within reach.

“You brought me here to have a private room with me?” I asked. “Doesn’t make much sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” He took a seat beside me and uncorked the champagne like a pro. “I wanted to take you out, but I also wanted to have some privacy. This seemed like a good compromise.”

I chewed at my lip as he poured each of us a glass of champagne. It was a nice gesture, but it was still out of character. And being the woman that I was, I couldn’t accept it without asking the nagging question that lingered in my mind.

“But why did you want to bring me here?” I emphasized.

His fingers flirted with the stem of his glass, distracting me for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a little over the top,” I said quietly. “It seems like a big romantic gesture. Something a man would do for his girlfriend, not his… well, whatever we are.”

He leaned back and stretched his arm across the chaise to tease the skin along my neck. “You are my girlfriend.”

“Am I?” I asked in confusion. “Because I don’t think we’ve ever established that.”

“It was implied,” he argued. “When I say that you belong to me Brighton, it isn’t for show.”

“It was implied we had an agreement,” I said. “Not a relationship.”

Ryland frowned as he sat back and mulled over my words. “I can see how you might think that. But in my mind there has never been any question.”

“Well, there has to be a question,” I persisted. “You never even asked me, Ryland. You assuming doesn’t make it so. You haven’t even told me how you feel about me.”

Ryland leaned forward and tugged me into his lap. “Is that what this is about? You want to know how I feel about you?”

I shrugged like it didn’t really matter. We both knew that it did, though.

“The last thing you said on the subject wasn’t exactly nice.”

There was a long pause of silence that threatened to swallow me whole. Ryland continued to touch me, stroking my back and kissing my neck. And despite my need for his assurances, my body was melting beneath his hands. He knew it too, this power he held over me.

He needed only to touch me to remind me. Or to look at me with the lust that ran thick through his blood. One word uttered in the warmth of his voice, and I was irrevocably his. He owned me, and he knew it. Did it ever matter what his feelings were? I was doomed to love him regardless.

“I can’t tell you the things you want to hear,” he said finally. “I could give you a thousand pretty words, but they wouldn’t change anything. I’m not your hero. I’m not the man you want me to be, and someday soon, you’ll understand that. You will loathe me, and I won’t blame you. But even then, I doubt I’ll be able to let you go. Our feelings are irrelevant, and that’s the truth. But the fact that I want you so much should tell you how I feel about you, baby girl. I waited five years for you.”

My eyes were glassy, and I hated it. Hated that he always managed to make me feel like this was a hopeless situation. Like everything was a riddle to him.

“What do you mean you waited five years?” I croaked.

His fingers traced the line of my collarbone, dipping beneath the silky material of my dress and allowing it to fall off the slope of my shoulder. It hung precariously by the stiffened peak of my nipple, and Ryland skimmed it with his thumb as he spoke.

“I wanted you to have a chance to experience life,” he said. “Life before me.”

“You make it sound like you’re ruining my life,” I joked.

He didn’t laugh.

He traced along the opposite collarbone, pushing the material off the other slope of my shoulder. Again, the material sagged until it caught on my nipple, allowing the swells of my breasts to be seen with each heavy breath.