The Reckless Secret, Complete Series (An Alpha Billionaire In Love BBW Romance) (17 page)

He seemed so incredibly human to her all of a sudden that she felt a shock of empathy for him. Duke Emerson had affected Dr. Stevens just like he had Maggie—manifested in different ways, sure, but they both carried the same scars. They had a common enemy, and that made them something like friends.

“Whatever my father has done to you,” she said levelly to him, “it’s not my fault.”

“I know that.” He smiled thinly, mirthlessly, a hint of self-deprecation hidden in it. “I never was very good at separating my personal feelings,” he admitted with uncharacteristic rawness. There was a part of her, buried deep below propriety and her tumultuous history with this man, that wanted to offer him a hug. “But I apologize now, Ms. Emerson. I’ve been unfair to you. Although a lot of evidence
did
point to you, we must be honest now.”

“I don’t know why, sir,” she said. “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around it for so long—”

“The answer, I’m sorry to say, is about to become very clear.” He sighed again, very deeply, and gave her a look full of overwhelming apology. “I would prepare yourself, if I were you.”

“Prepare myself?” she said blankly, her stomach twisting. “For what?”

The reason became horrendously clear seconds later when the door opened and Declan came through, and trailing behind him, wearing a guilty, self-hating expression that revealed
everything
, was her brother.

Her brother, the thief.

W
hite noise rushed
in her ears, the walls closing in on her, the floor swaying beneath her feet, and when did she stand up? Because she didn’t remember moving an inch.

“No.”

Grant stretched a hand out to her. “Sis—”

“No.”

“Let’s sit down,” Declan said, sounding maddeningly calm, somewhere to her right. She couldn’t tear her eyes from her brother.

Her
brother
.

A gaping hole formed in the pit of her stomach, aching and hollow.

“I’ll stand, thanks,” she said numbly.

She knew exactly what was coming, and she didn’t want to hear it—both Grant’s utter betrayal, and Declan’s hand in it. A dual-edged knife slicing right through the heart of her, and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t
think
.

Everyone else remained standing with her and she didn’t like it, felt closed in by these towering figures of pain, looming over her as the walls drew in, and it was getting darker, she was sure of it, the room around her dimming into shadow…

She sucked in a breath and grabbed the back of a chair, then closed her eyes as her stomach spun like she’d had too many drinks. Someone touched her arm and she snapped her eyes open, finding Declan looking at her with concern. She shrugged him off with a grimace and stood straight.

Faced her brother.

Prepared herself, like Dr. Stevens told her to. Of the three men in this room, right now, Dr. Stevens was the only one she could trust. And that…that was something she could almost laugh about, hysterically and pained.

Jesus Christ.

“I’m so sorry,” Grant whispered, his eyes watery, his jaw holding a minute tremble. He was either scared or upset—neither gave Maggie much comfort. Grant’s guilt did little to help her. It didn’t take away what had happened.

“I didn’t mean—it was never meant to go this far,” Grant continued—empty words in an empty apology. She didn’t answer. Didn’t even know how she was supposed to get words through the swelling in her throat, the rapid beat of her heart.

How the hell was she supposed to deal with any of this?

Grant was still looking at her, still with that same watery, sorry expression. But this time there was an edge of pain in his gaze. More than pain—agony. “I’ve got a problem,” he said quietly, and Maggie staggered into a seat at last.

The three men followed suit—Dr. Stevens opposite her, watching her face with total compassion, so much so that she almost wanted to go sit directly beside him and take comfort from his newfound concern for her. Declan to her right, stoic and straight-faced, his eyes sparking with a fire that always spoke of his intensity. And Grant to her left, agonized and sorry. There was the weight of a hundred lies settling over this table and she wanted to crumble from it.

These two men on either side of her were breaking her—the two men who were supposed to care about her the most. She could hardly stand the taste of the air in this room.

“Just explain it all to her,” Declan said, his voice sounding heavier than it’d ever been to her. “She needs to hear everything.”

She didn’t. She didn’t want to. She had a fairly good idea already, and hearing the details wouldn’t make her feel better.

But there was a twisted side of her that wanted to know
exactly
how her brother and her boyfriend had betrayed her. The precise details of it all. What went through their minds when they looked at her and knew that they were slowly destroying her.

If they
enjoyed
it.

“Painkillers,” Grant said, bringing her back to the room, away from the free-falling thoughts her bitter mind was trying to conjure. “I got addicted to them during the summer after my ankle wouldn’t stop acting up. Got myself completely dependent on them. Declan, he—he got me through it.”

She swallowed. “You had a stomach bug.” Her voice came out shaky and she hated it, the weakness she displayed.

After a moment, he said thickly, “No.”

Breath rushed out of her all at once. “Oh my God.” She’d believed it—believed it so faithfully. Felt
sorry
for him, all through the summer; spent so much of her time worrying about him. And all along… All along he’d been an addict, lied to her face, and
Declan
had hidden it.

“I thought I was over it,” Grant continued. “That it wouldn’t be a problem anymore. But the pain came back and I…I took the pills again. Dr. O’Malley stopped giving them to me, said we needed to start looking at other ways to manage my ankle—mentioned surgery. But by then it was too late.” He stopped, drew in a rattling lungful of air. “I knew you had them here, and I knew your access code…”

She could do nothing but mutely shake her head.

“It was like the part of my mind that knew how wrong it was had switched off,” he said, his face cracking with the pain of it. “I couldn’t control myself. All I could see were the pills. I didn’t know how to stop it.” His voice broke at the end, wavered and splintered, drenched in desperation, and suddenly, her bone-deep fury at his betrayal pushed aside, and from beneath it emerged something else entirely.

Her heart started to break for him.

“I have to go,” she said, scraping her chair back and getting to her feet.

Dr. Stevens, who’d sat in silence through the explanation with a crease between his brows, startled at her sudden movement and stood with her, like a gentleman ripped from the pages of
Pride and Prejudice
.

“Maggie,” Declan said, and she whirled on him, veins crackling with adrenaline, her tumbled mix of emotions making her blood burn—rage, pain, compassion…

“How long have you known?”

Declan looked at her steadily. “Since the day you got suspended,” he confessed, his tone strong and clear.

“You can’t blame him,” Grant piped up, but she couldn’t turn and look at him again. Couldn’t allow the devastation of his life right now to cloud her feelings. She wanted to be furious with him. She didn’t want to feel the urge to help him. “He tried to make me tell you. I was just too stupid to listen.”

“
You
could’ve told me,” she spat at Declan, because this was worse—worse than what Grant had done to her. Her brother had a serious problem, driven by addiction, and she would hate him for it for a long time, but there was no denying that the pills dictated the man here, and that the man did not decide one day to randomly fuck up his sister’s whole life.

But Declan—he had no excuse. Even if his expression right now told a whole other story.

“I couldn’t be the one to break your heart like that,” he said quietly, as if she were the only one in the room with him. “I’m a coward. And you needed to hear it from him.”

She stared at him, locked eyes with him for what felt like an eternity, torn between the desire to rush forward and bury herself in his arms, in his safety—and the desire to slap that look of heartache right off his face.

She turned to Dr. Stevens. “I assume this means the investigation on me will be dropped?”

He started again at suddenly finding himself the focus of attention, and then cleared his throat. “Yes.”

“Good,” she said. “I’m going.” She shot one last scathing look at the man she loved, and muttered, “You can sort this mess out on your own,” and then swept towards the door with, what she hoped, was a modicum of dignity. She could feel her defenses rapidly falling, shattering into a million shards at her feet, and if she stayed here for one moment longer, she’d break.

“Sis, wait—” Grant grabbed her arm as she passed, and his touch sparked something within her that made anger suddenly rear up in her chest like a beast, causing her to spin and land a hard slap on her brother’s cheek. The sound echoed through the room, off the startled faces of all three men, through the pained sound of her heavy breathing and the sob that came after.

“You were the one who was never supposed to hurt me,” she said, her voice high with emotion, her heart falling low into her gut, heavy and dying. “The only man I could ever trust.”

He blinked watery eyes, his throat rolling convulsively. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah.” She sniffed, brushing hair off her face. “Me too,” she said, and then walked away from them all.

S
ilence reigned
where heartbreak had moments ago nearly smothered them all, and Declan couldn’t allow himself a spare three seconds to think about quite how thoroughly he’d just helped destroy the woman he loved most in the world.

“I need to go after her,” Grant said desperately, and Declan shot him a firm look.

“Sit down,” he ordered, then turned to the other man in the room. “Dr. Stevens. I know I’m putting you in an impossible position here, but I’m going to ask you not to follow this up.”

Dr. Stevens blinked at him. “You want me to drop the whole thing?”

“Yes. He doesn’t need a criminal investigation. He needs rehab.”

“Be that as it may—”

“Look at him,” Declan said, waving a hand at the pathetic figure of Grant, who looked as though he couldn’t care less about his own fate in that moment. He was too busy beating himself up. “He’s not malicious. He’s not a criminal, for Christ’s sake. He’s a man in need of help. I’m asking you to please look beyond the protocol and let me put an end to this quietly.”

Dr. Stevens observed him a moment, and then turned to consider Grant. He cleared his throat, then said sniffily, “Your father wouldn’t be happy to know he’s got a thief for a son.”

Grant’s face twisted with bitterness. “My father can go to hell for all I care.”

Dr. Stevens, in apparent shock, raised his eyebrows. “You don’t get along?”

“I’d turn myself in just for the pleasure of humiliating him.”

“Hmm,” Dr. Stevens said, looking at Grant for a few seconds of strange, contemplative silence.

Worried, Declan said nervously, “How about we don’t talk about handing anyone in?” but it seemed his mind was on a different track to Dr. Stevens’.

“I know of an excellent rehabilitation program,” the doctor said. “I would probably be able to get a place for you.”

Grant blinked at him, looked at Declan wildly, and then back to Dr. Stevens. He had to swallow twice before he could speak. “Are you saying—”

“And afterwards,” Dr. Stevens said, steamrolling over him, straightening his cuffs, “there’s a fair amount of fixing-up needed in this hospital. We don’t really have the budget.”

Clever
, Declan thought proudly, feeling a newfound affinity for the odd doctor.

Grant nodded eagerly, looking every bit like a puppy who’d just been told he was going on a walk. “I’ll do it all— whatever you need. I’ll be at your service.”

Dr. Stevens sniffed again and got to his feet, giving off the distinct vibe that he found this whole saccharine, emotive display of gratitude rather displeasing and probably a bit embarrassing.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said. “I have an investigation to call off.”

Declan could almost feel Grant’s relief, and if it was anything like his own, then it must’ve been making the man lightheaded.

He wasn’t quite sure what he’d been expecting when making this plan—deciding to bring everyone together and blow the whole thing open had been a risky move, but he’d run out of all other options. Grant had reached rock bottom, and Maggie…well. His heart twinged at the thought of her.

Dr. Stevens paused beside Grant, considered him a moment, and then offered his hand. “Meet me in my office at four P.M.”

“I’ll be there, sir,” Grant said, shaking the doctor’s hand vigorously. “Thank you so much. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done. I know it’s hard to believe, but this really isn’t like me. I’m not this guy.”

He wasn’t lying. Grant hooked on painkillers was like an entirely different Grant to the one Declan knew and grew up with. That Grant was smart, confident, powerful, full of charm. This Grant, this pathetic lump of a man currently on the verge of tears, was little more than a weak shadow. A healthy Grant rivaled Declan’s status as most eligible bachelor in society.

Declan’s
former
status. He was a taken man now, no matter how much he had to fight for it.

Mouth straining into an approximation of a smile, Dr. Stevens patted Grant’s shoulder. “And you won’t be this guy anymore.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank me by getting clean,” said Dr. Stevens, before offering Declan a tip of his head and then leaving the room.

Grant blew out a long breath. “Now all I have to do is spend the next…rest of my life, probably? Making it up to Maggie.” He shook his head, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Not that I deserve to make it up to her.”

“You’re an asshole,” Declan agreed, and Grant nodded.

“What’re you gonna do now?”

Good question. Logic told him to lie low a while, let the dust settle, let people calm down. And then, maybe, begin to tentatively reach out again, start patching things up where he could.

His instinct, however, was pulling him in the complete opposite direction.

“I’m gonna tell your sister I love her,” he said.

Grant stared at him. “Sounds like a plan.”

“You approve?”

“I might.”

Declan’s heart lept into his throat at that—not that he would admit it to Grant. Truth was, no one knew Declan like Grant did, which meant no one but Grant was aware of quite how prevalent his “player” ways had been in the past. The fact that Grant now gave his blessing to date his sister meant something to Declan—that maybe he’d become a better man despite himself. That he was worthy of the love of an incredible woman like Maggie.

And that maybe Maggie thought so too.

Swallowing down the rush of emotion, he grabbed Grant’s shoulder and said, “I’ll meet you at his office at four,” looking firmly in his eyes as he uttered it. It was important—vital, even—that Grant not fuck this up now. He’d been given a lifeline, and if he didn’t take it, Declan would kill him personally. “Don’t be late.”

“I won’t,” Grant said fiercely. And then, suddenly, and without a hint of awkwardness, he pulled Declan in for a hug. “Good luck,” he murmured into his ear, and Declan could do little else but hold on and squeeze a bit tighter.

W
ithout really having
a clue how he knew she’d be there, Declan headed straight for Maggie’s apartment. Logically, she would’ve been back at Ashley’s, or hiding out somewhere unknown, away from the men who hurt her. But she was in her own apartment, and she answered the door on the first knock, and the devastation on her face was enough to shatter Declan’s heart anew.

“I don’t even know what to say,” he muttered thickly, taking in the sight of her swollen, bloodshot eyes, the tear tracks on her smooth, plump cheeks, the red stains on her bitten lips. Her gaze was almost dead as she looked at him, and she was trembling like she’d been crying for days.

She sniffled, rubbing a sleeve against the edge of her nose. “I’m okay. Come in.”

She wasn’t okay, clearly. She was far beyond okay. And what he felt for himself in that moment went beyond hatred—he
detested
himself.

He closed the door softly behind and followed her to the living room. “Gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting you to let me in so easily.”

Shrugging a shoulder, she turned to him with something like resignation written all over her face. “I don’t have the strength for a fight right now.”

“God.” His chest felt cleaved in two, a hot iron speared through his ribs and plunged right into the center of his heart. “What can I do? I want to make it bett—”

“You can’t,” she said shortly.

“Maggie.” The desperation in his voice chipped into the air between them like shards of ice.

She stared at him for a long moment, and there was so much he wanted to say—
sorry
, and
please
, and
I love you
. But he didn’t say them. He didn’t say anything at all. Because he didn’t know how, and she was broken, and he might have thought himself worthy before, but now he couldn’t imagine a man less deserving of such an incredible woman’s forgiveness.

Then she sniffed and stepped forward, and he froze, waiting, watching her, his chest thumping a mile a minute against his ribs and his blood running hot.

She put her hands on his chest, and she looked into his eyes, and then she leaned up on tiptoes and his breath caught in his throat in the instant before her lips touched his.

“Please,” she said against his mouth, voice splintered with pain. “Please, I just need to—I need you to make me feel something else.”

Desire shot through him—desire laced with sadness. She was moments from crying again; he could see it as he gently pushed her back an inch or so, raked his fingers through her hair, tried to catch her eye, but she had them closed, her throat rolling with a thick swallow, face etched in lines of hurt. Hurt that he caused—or at least helped with. If only he’d been honest with her from the start, filled her in on Grant’s problems, then maybe now she wouldn’t feel so doubly betrayed. And yet, if he’d done that, he would’ve betrayed his oldest friend. Between a rock and a hard place—that was where he’d been living these past few weeks.

But this wasn’t about him. She needed him now, clinging to the front of his shirt, lips parted slightly. She needed him, and he’d give her anything.

“Please,” she said again, eyes fluttering open. “Declan. I need you to—”

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.” And he took her to bed.