Unleashed: Declan & Kara (Unleashed #1-4; Beg for It #1) (57 page)

“Where to?” he
barked in that New Yorker accent I’d found so entertaining and now
wished I’d never, ever hear again. I gave him the name of the hotel
and managed not to throw up until I got up into the room. I even made
it to the bathroom. I was very proud of myself.

Ripping off the dress
and corset, I left them there on the bathroom floor. I wanted nothing
to do with Declan Hunt, not the man, not the gown he’d bought me.
I’d fallen in love, completely and utterly in love. I’d given
myself to him in every way. And he was with another woman. I’d even
told him I loved him, yelled it out merely hours ago. It hadn’t
occurred to me until now that he hadn’t said it back. I’d told
him I loved him and he’d said nothing in return. Stupid me, I’d
taken his groan and thrust as a response in kind. To call me a moron
didn’t begin to describe my idiocy. My glasses were so rose-colored
they made me totally blind.

I flung the glittering
diamond and ruby necklace onto the vanity. Fuck him and his fucking
jewels, flattering me and making me think I was hot shit. And I’d
fallen for it all.

Hot tears stained my
cheeks but I splashed them away with cold, clear water. I didn’t
have time for wallowing in self-pity. There’d be plenty of time for
that in the future. But not now. I needed to get out of there, fast.

This time around, I
found my boots, jeans and t-shirt, too. Powered by humiliation and
fury, I had everything on and stood ready to go in seconds flat.

I paused at the door.
Everything in me just wanted to dash, take off in the night and begin
the complicated nightmare of forgetting any of this had happened. But
I knew Declan wouldn’t let me go that easily. He’d proven he
liked toying with me. He’d also shown he had no heart. I needed to
end things and end them good to have any chance of really getting
away.

I decided to write a
note. In a drawer, I found a pen and some hotel stationary. This had
to be good. If I left any window open at all, he’d come after me
and I knew myself all too well. He’d start talking and touching and
before I knew it I’d be in it all over again, a sucker willingly
placing my neck on the chopping block. No, this had to be convincing.

It came to me quickly, and I wrote:

Declan,

Someone else has come through for me to help with the ranch. I don’t
need you anymore. I’m terminating our contract a day early, so I do
not hold you to your end of the bargain. You don’t owe me anything.

Kara

I left the note on a
table with a shaking hand. Terrified he’d return before I left, I
closed the door behind me, raced to the elevator and then down to the
lobby. Heart racing, yet also strangely numb, I made it outside and a
doorman hailed me a taxicab.

In the car, I blew out
the breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. No crying,
not yet. I had some things to take care of. I needed to buy a plane
ticket and fly back to Montana. I had to get in touch with Lymon and
sell him my ranch. Then I had to find somewhere else to live and
start my life all over again.

There’d be time in
the future to feel everything, to hate myself, to dredge up memories
of it all. How I’d told Declan I loved him. He’d grunted and come
in me and I’d somehow interpreted that as, “I love you too, Kara.
Would you like to spend the rest of your life with me?”

Crushed, I shook with
unshed tears and fury. I had to keep it together. I had a plane
flight and a bunch of business to transact first.

Sitting there in the
dark, speeding to the airport, I made myself a promise. No more
believing in fairy tales. From now on, I’d keep my feet firmly
planted on the ground. I’d become the strong, independent woman I
aspired to be, the kind who’d never have gone running to Declan in
the first place. I’d look the truth straight in the face, brave and
honest, no matter how grim my reality. I was done with the old Kara,
sweet and dreamy, imagining rainbows and moonbeams where there was
actually just plain mud.

I’d embrace the
truth, alone and fierce. I could do it. I knew I could. I just had to
stay far, far away from Declan Hunt.

Declan

Had I not been so
happy, I wouldn’t have let Courtney kiss me. She got a wet one in
before I even registered what was happening.

She’d lured me into a
dark, quiet corner in the middle of the gala at the Met. She said she
had something important to talk to me about. If I’d thought about
it I’d have known what she was up to, but I didn’t. A smile on my
face, I was focused on Kara, eager to see her in that gown, searching
for her face in the crowd. She hadn’t arrived yet, but she would
soon.

Since the one person I
wanted to see wasn’t there yet, I decided I could give Courtney two
minutes. She was one demanding and relentless woman. The best way to
get her off my back would be to give her a bit of my time. Otherwise,
she might make a scene. I knew I could handle it, but why go there if
you didn’t have to?

Even as she led me back
into the hallway, I kept scanning for Kara. I saw no sign. In the
last twenty minutes I’d texted and called her but it had gone
straight to voicemail. I knew she was fine, just taking her time
getting ready, but patience wasn’t my strong suit. I couldn’t
wait to see her in that gown with the diamond and ruby necklace I’d
given her, and even better, later on stripped down to just the corset
underneath.

Courtney dragged me off
into a shadowy corner with the subtlety of a tigress. I guess some
guys got off on aggressive attack women. I wasn’t one of them. I
was all for a woman who knew what she wanted, but this
not-reading-my-signals, not-taking-no-for-an-answer bullshit wasn’t
going to play. She wanted a piece of me and she wasn’t going to get
it. That was final. I belonged to Kara. It was that simple.

But even without Kara,
I’d have no interest. Courtney wasn’t my type. She needed a himbo
she could drag around to different socialite events. She didn’t
need any man for his money, that was for sure. She just needed some
man candy who could pose for the cameras. There had to be a long line
of interested candidates. I just wasn’t one of them.

In the dark hallway she
started talking real low so I had to lean into her. She faked picking
something off of my lapel so she could touch me. I found it annoying,
but didn’t really get pissed off until she planted one on me.

Usually I would have
seen it coming, ducked it like a punch in the ring. I knew how women
like her worked. Usually, I had my guard up.

But being with Kara had
made me soft. I felt all smiley and shit, like I’d start humming
any minute, my heart light. And so Courtney got her three seconds in
heaven. Until I grabbed her around her boney shoulders and pushed her
away, firm and clear.

“Not going to
happen.” I shook my head no.

She looked too pleased
as she said, “Suit yourself.” Shrugging, she walked off like
getting rejected was no big deal. She was up to something, but I
honestly didn’t have time for her games. Maybe I’d gotten off
easy and she’d lost interest. Maybe she was off to find some other
cowboy to ride for the month.

It was time to stand up
and address the guests, me and the rest of the philanthropic
moneybags. I still found it funny to be counted as one of them.

I’d figured Kara
would have arrived by then. I remembered she didn’t have a lot of
experience attending these sorts of events. She must be nervous. I
cursed myself. I should have made arrangements to meet her. But there
wasn’t time for that now.

I got up on the podium,
took the mic and said a generic word or two about the importance of
the cause, the necessity of funding and improving services for
children in the foster care system. I praised the event organizers
and thanked all of the guests. Public speaking didn’t phase me.
Easy as pie.

What phased me was that
I couldn’t see Kara. I kept searching for her face amidst the
throng, but no luck. Afterwards, I had to work the crowd, shaking
hands with this Rockefeller and that Astor, drinking a high ball with
a DuPont and discussing bow hunting in Montana with a Vanderbilt. New
York really knew how to pull out the old money. You could always
tell, too. Old money never looked as done up as new money. The pearls
looked slightly worn, passed down over the generations. The older
women might let themselves go grey. The younger ones never, ever
flashed even a bit of cleavage. New money had giant fake boobs and
perfectly veneered teeth, and new money was out to have a good time.
They wanted to write you a big check right then and there in front of
everyone. Old money would head home early. But the next day you’d
get an even bigger donation, requesting anonymity.

One classic old-money,
silver-haired gentleman with a slight British accent spoke to me with
a sense of urgency about the cause. He clutched his cane with his
thin hand and pierced me with his startling blue eyes as he talked
about the plight of foster children and how many slipped through the
cracks. He looked frail and somewhat sickly, but he spoke with
passion. He wanted to know about my background and what had driven me
to become such a generous supporter.

Normally, I’d have
given him more time. I appreciated the man coming out, especially
since he honestly looked like he needed to be resting at home in bed.
But it hit 10 o’clock and I had to excuse myself.

Where the hell was
Kara? She wasn’t responding to her cell phone and she definitely
wasn’t at the party. I knew because in-between all the glad-handing
and chitchat I was prowling the premises like a panther. I called
Vladimir and he confirmed that he’d dropped her off almost two
hours earlier. Sometimes you needed to stay and host the huge gala
benefitting your charity. And sometimes you needed to quit it and hit
the road to make sure everything was OK with the one you loved.

Almost at the door,
another socialite shark cornered me. I could really use some sort of
danger/warning system, maybe something that could cue the
Jaws
soundtrack so I could prepare myself prior to attack. In
alcohol-soaked, breathy tones, she clasped a boney claw to my bicep
and told me she wanted to make a very special gift to my foundation.
She wanted to discuss the terms in private. I’d heard she had
recently finalized a divorce with husband number two. With a sigh and
a few shreds of remaining protocol, I managed to steer her toward a
more interested party so I could finally slip away into the night.

I jogged the six blocks
to our hotel. I doubted a single attendee at the Met would have
considered such physical exertion. A punishing workout with a
personal trainer in top-of-the-line athletic gear, sure. A jog on
city blocks in a tuxedo, not so much. Rich people tended to get soft.
Not me.

I knew my driver
Vladimir could be there for me in minutes, that I might not even be
saving any time on foot. But I couldn’t sit in the back of a car at
traffic lights, not when I didn’t know what had happened to Kara.
She was such an innocent, so naïve and I’d only showed her the
glittering lights of New York City. Much darker dangers lurked around
every corner and Kara would attract a criminal like a moth to a
flame. Only she’d be the one to get burned.

Had she chickened out
at the door? She must have felt intimidated. I’d been an idiot. I
should have made arrangements to meet her outside so I could walk her
in to the party. If I hadn’t been so out of it when I’d said
goodbye to her at the hotel room, I would have planned better. I’d
been running late, which I never did, confused and unfocused and
wanting nothing more than to get back into bed with Kara. It had made
me careless, sloppy, and I hadn’t told her to text me when she got
there. I could have walked her up the steps, arm in arm. I could have
shown her around, introduced her, made sure she felt comfortable.
Instead I’d been stupid and now who knew where she’d disappeared
to. She probably didn’t even bring her cell phone with her to the
party. She had no way to get in touch with me if she needed help.

Heart pounding in my
chest, I burst into the hotel room.

“Kara?” My voice
seemed to echo in what immediately became clear was an empty hotel
room. “Kara, where are you?” I played out the part in every
horror movie, the idiot who continues calling out and searching even
though everyone including him knew she wasn’t there. She was gone.

On the counter I saw a note.
Something cold gripped my gut. This wasn’t going to be good.

Declan,

Someone else has come through for me to help with the ranch. I don’t
need you anymore. I’m terminating our contract a day early, so I do
not hold you to your end of the bargain. You don’t owe me anything.

Kara

I looked up. My fingers
kept pinching the note tight and bloodless. I walked over to the bar
and poured myself a drink, a strong one. After a long, hard swallow
of liquor, I read the note again.

“Someone else has
come through for me.” Had she been trying to cut my heart out of my
chest cavity with a jagged knife and no anesthesia? Had that been her
intent in writing the note? Because if that’s what she’d been
trying to do, she’d done a real bang-up job.

In one long gulp I
finished my drink, the burning heat punishing my throat as it slid
down. With a smash I threw the empty glass against the wall. It hit
with such force it shattered, spraying bits and shards across the
room. It would require a hell of a clean up job, but I’d pay for it
and some poor SOBs would come in here with rags and vacuums. Before
the end of the day tomorrow it would look good as new.

How about this fucking
mess I found myself in? How the fuck would that get cleaned up? I
still held the poisonous note. “I don’t need you anymore.”