Stealing Her Page 2

  I couldn’t live in a constant state of walking on eggshells.

  I would never be what my fiancé or his father wanted.

  I was good.

  Just not good enough.

  That morning I was waiting to see Julian in the reception area outside his office.

  There were two receptionists in their midtwenties with blonde hair and model-perfect makeup, neither of whom bothered to look up from their desk. Employees knew you never made eye contact with the Tennysons, and since I was engaged to the vice president and soon-to-be CEO, that meant I was looped into the crazy.

  It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

  I wasn’t supposed to have to schedule a meeting just to talk to my fiancé. That’s not what normal people did.

  And yet that was the expectation. I was here waiting for my “appointment,” already delayed. Time, after all, was extremely valuable, and the Tennysons never seemed to have quite enough of it, especially when it came to personal matters. Julian always had time to party on yachts with celebrities and heiresses, but when it came to time alone at the penthouse with me? Never enough.

  Pain stabbed me in the chest.

  Pain over his careless treatment.

  Pain over our drawn-out engagement.

  Pain over the loss of our friendship.

  “Isobel?” Kelsey, one of the perfect receptionists, stood. I’d fought with Julian when he hired her; she was too pretty, and he was easily distracted by shiny things. After all, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. “Julian will see you now.”

  “Perfect.” I stood and primed myself with a confident smile as I made my way through the sleek, modern double doors.

  The first time I walked through those doors years ago it felt like I held the keys to a new kingdom.

  I didn’t realize then that the kingdom was actually a dungeon and some things are covered in gold to distract from what’s underneath.

  “Isobel.” Julian moved toward me, but his smile was for the receptionist who would report back to his father. “It’s the middle of a workday.”

  He looked more tired than normal . . . and stressed. I was tempted to reach for him, to tell him to lean on me like he used to. But he looked almost angry when my hand started to do just that.

  “It is.” I ground my teeth. How had it come to this? Memories of us in college resurfaced as they always did when I was trying to match the man I fell in love with to the stranger standing in front of me.

  He checked his Rolex, irritation pulsing from his large frame in waves that I could almost see in the air between us. “Walk with me. I have a meeting.”

  I put my hands up, ready to block his chest, to stop him from walking around me, speaking down to me. Take your pick. “Julian, it’s private. I need your attention. Please.” God, I hated begging a man who used to look at me with love in his eyes, a man who used to tell me we were going to live a fairy tale.

  The hearts that used to be in his eyes had changed to dollar signs the minute his father promoted him right out of grad school. And with the promise of an even bigger promotion in a few short weeks . . .

  He chose money.

  Over me.

  Because according to him, love never really did last. Not for his dad and definitely not for him, since they were both cut from the same cloth.

  It hadn’t always been that way.

  Goodbye, Julian.

  Goodbye, family I used to call mine.

  Goodbye, life we created together.

  I felt the loss so deeply at that moment that I couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t what I’d imagined three years ago when he’d proposed.

  “I’m breaking off the engagement.” I blurted out the words so quickly that I covered my mouth with my hands as embarrassment took over, embarrassment because he didn’t even flinch, nor did he look up from his watch.

  He stared at it like he hadn’t heard a word I said and exhaled. Could that be relief I saw? Or was he actually hurt? He attempted to walk around me, but his steps faltered a bit. “Let’s discuss this when I’m not running late.”

  “Julian.” I moved in front of him. “This isn’t a business proposal or a buyout, I’m finished, there is no discussion. I just, I thought you should know.” I moved to pull off my four-karat engagement ring while he sighed as if I was inconveniencing him. I held it out. “Here, take it back.”

  “No.” Strong hands held my shoulders as he looked down at me with a confident albeit exhausted smile. “I’ve been busy, too busy, I see that now. How about I cancel my meeting later tonight, and we can get dinner?” He was already shoving the ring back on my finger, lifting my hand to his lips, kissing it softly like he used to.

  “No.” I trembled.

  “You sure?” I wished I could hate him. I wanted to hate the easy smile that reminded me of easier times. He suddenly pulled me close and looked at me like I was everything he needed, oxygen included. “Because I could really get on board with one of those steak dinners at Elliot’s.”

  Elliot’s.

  The place he’d proposed.

  Our favorite restaurant.

  Damn him! I clenched my fist so tight the ring made an impression against my palm.

  “Julian, no.” I couldn’t think with him this close. He had this magnetism to him that was dangerous, it sucked you into the Tennyson void and refused to let go. I refused to get manipulated again. He was too good at making me believe that we were forever, that what we had was unlike anything else in this world. And he knew exactly what to say to get me to back down. I didn’t want to be weak, not anymore.

  “I think I need—” he began.

  “Julian!” The door opened, Amy, the other receptionist, poked her head in and pointed at her own watch, averting her eyes as she said in hushed tones, “The car’s been waiting five minutes. You need to head down. Your father’s not happy, and the board is waiting.”

  His face hardened before he adjusted his tie. “I’ll call you later.”

  “But Julian—”

  He was already gone.

  I clutched my hands together, feeling the imprint of my engagement ring against my skin. Emotion clogged my throat until I felt like I was choking.

  The only noise in that giant office was the sound of my heels as I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan.

  His kingdom.

  Theirs.

  Ours.

  Not anymore.

  Because I wouldn’t sacrifice my heart for money.

  Not anymore.

  There was a picture of us on his desk. Our fresh happy faces were smiling, we were just out of college. I had finished my master’s degree in nursing and he his MBA. I was staring at him, and he was staring at the camera.

  He’d always been looking ahead.

  Never at me.

  Did I sound selfish? Petty?

  A woman was allowed those moments when she lost the love of her life to something equally selfish and petty.

  Greed.

  I don’t know how long I stared at that picture. Long enough for my back to tense under the poor posture brought on by my stilettos, and long enough for the sun to start to set.

  Sighing, I twisted the ring around my finger and slowly walked out of his office, clicking the door shut behind me, just as Kelsey answered the phone.

  Her sharp gasp drew my attention. Her face had paled, and her eyes locked with mine. “There’s been an accident.”

  Chapter Two

  BRIDGE

  “Another late night?” Mom asked when I dropped my workout bag on the couch and went in search of a beer.

  She knew the answer.

  Yet she always had to ask the question, didn’t she?

  I smiled a bit as I dipped my head into the small worn fridge and pulled out an IPA. “Not too late.”

  Her smile was frail as she got up and tried to stand. I moved so fast the beer almost toppled over the counter. She was only in her late fifties, but you’d think she was in her seventies the way she moved these days.

  Gastroparesis did that to a person. She’d gone from being healthy to weighing only ninety-five pounds. Her stomach couldn’t properly digest anything, even water, which forced her to use a tube that fed her through her stomach. When she was diagnosed five years ago, we figured that we would just fight it any way we could. It’s not a well-known condition and it’s super hard to get a proper diagnosis, so when people ask her what’s wrong and hear it’s not cancer, they fucking sigh in relief like she’s not facing a death sentence every single day her feeding tube malfunctions.

  Pain lanced my heart, my throat, every cell in my body as I steadied her. “Where you off to so fast?”

  She rolled her eyes and patted me on the right shoulder. “If that’s fast . . .”

  “So fast I’m gonna start calling you Flash.” I winked.

  Water collected in her eyes. Tears meant she was either in pain or she was sad, and I couldn’t handle either of those things.

  And I would do anything, cross any ocean, to make sure that the most important light of my life didn’t get snuffed out by something that in my mind should be such an easy thing to fix. But I wasn’t a kid anymore, I couldn’t fix this with my fists and I couldn’t fix it with my intellect. So I loved her as best I could. And prayed it was enough.

  Her doctors kept trying new things.

  Which meant I kept working more shifts so I could afford all the new treatments they claimed would give me more time with her.

  We’d sold the SUV years ago in exchange for a Jeep that broke down more than it worked, and every single time the man who’d fathered me showed up on TV in a new car I wanted to scream.

  But after two years of unanswered phone calls, I realized he wasn’t going to come riding
in on a white horse and rescue us from medical bills.

  And neither was the brother who ended up turning out exactly like the guy everyone called a saint. Edward Tennyson? A saint? My ass. Just because he donated money to foundations that interested him didn’t make him a saint, it made him a shrewd businessman who understood the power of public opinion.

  “I was going to make us some dinner.” She always said “us” even though she didn’t eat solid food. She said she lived vicariously through me, so I drank her favorite milkshakes. I spent every damn day of my life dedicated to eating what she wanted to eat, and then punished my physical body afterward so that I could continue to do it.

  My mom had a clear sweet tooth, and I’d be twice my size if I didn’t put in two hours a day at the gym after I was done training. The sacrifices we make for those we love.

  “Why don’t you sit down?” I finally said, keeping the emotions I was feeling out of my voice. “And I’ll whip up some of your favorite baked chicken while I tell you about my day.”

  Something about the way she looked at me made me sad, like she knew one day I would need someone else to talk to, someone else to share my life with, when honestly all I wanted was my mom.

  All I needed was my mom.

  I let myself believe that lie every single time my chest felt like it was going to crack over the loss of a part of my soul, or at least that’s what it felt like. I remembered a scared Julian, one who confronted me for abandoning him a year after we moved, when in my mind I was just going across town to get us settled before seeing him at school the next day.

  How wrong I’d been.

  Emails between us were fewer and fewer until one day in college, they stopped altogether. I kept up to date with his escapades by reading the entertainment section of the paper, and then was so disgusted with what I saw, with the man he had become—I just stopped.

  I’d like to think a healthy appetite for women helped distract me, but when they saw me, they wrongly assumed I was my estranged brother, which meant they also wrongly assumed I was rolling in it. In reality, I worked part time as a personal trainer and part time as a bartender while I tried to pick up shifts with UPS.

  And being associated with my brother just pissed me off all the more.

  He might as well be in a castle built out of gold.

  And I went to bed at night thinking, Damn, I’m so lucky to be here with Mom, instead of in that golden prison with Dad.

  Last year Julian sent us a check for fifty thousand dollars and I’d ripped it in half, not because we didn’t need it, but because I’d been so damn angry and let my pride get ahead of me. There was no note, nothing, just a check, as if that would make everything better.

  He was my father through and through.

  Throw a little money at it and call it good.

  “Alright, honey,” Mom said as I helped her sit back down on the couch and tucked her feet under her favorite Huskies afghan. She had at least ten romance novels on the coffee table. I pointed to them with a smirk only to have her pick one up and glare. “Don’t you dare make fun of me.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, Mom.” I kissed her cheek and made my way into the kitchen. My feet hurt from standing all day, my back hurt from deadlifts, and I had a shift at five a.m. with UPS.

  At least the pay was good. I almost had enough saved to pay bills for the next two months, unless something happened with Mom, and then we’d be screwed. And that’s the thing about her disease; one day she’s fine, the next we’re in the ER, then she’s admitted to the hospital for a week.

  “So your day?” Mom grinned at me, then flipped on the TV, setting it to mute. She knew me well. I liked having the news on, and I liked being able to turn up the volume if I wanted to subject myself to the chaos that was our world.

  “Well, training was good. I had two new clients today, a husband and wife. They both put on baby weight and want to get healthy again, so I put them on a pretty easy partner workout regimen that I think will really help. Plus, those who suffer together . . .”

  “Stay together.” Mom laughed. “Though I don’t believe you, I still love you for the lies you tell.”

  “Hah!” I pulled some chicken thighs from the freezer and popped them on a dish to defrost.

  “What else?” Even sick she was beautiful and put most women to shame. Her eager expression tugged at my heart as she wrapped the afghan tighter around herself and started to shiver. Always cold. I ignored the way her collarbones jutted out from her skin along with the blue tint of the veins in her hands.

  “Well, bartending is—” I stopped short when my brother’s face flashed across the TV.

  And then my dad was speaking.

  “Turn it up.” I clenched my teeth as my mom scrambled for the remote and turned up the volume.

  “Early reports state that Julian Tennyson, vice president and soon-to-be CEO of Tennyson Financial, was in a head-on collision this evening. He’s currently in critical condition at Manhattan Grace.”

  “Oh no.” Mom covered her face with her hands as tears dripped off her chin. He was still her son.

  My brother.

  I dropped the chicken onto the counter as my heart hammered against my chest. “I’ll always protect you.”

  I’d promised him.

  I’d failed.

  It didn’t matter that I hated what he’d become. I was supposed to be his other half, and he was in a hospital right now.

  I reached for my keys about the same time my mom started sobbing.

  “Oh, my boy.” She rocked back and forth, and I was quickly moving to the living room to grab her when the doorbell rang.

  We both froze, sensing that nothing good would be on the other side of that door.

  Nobody visited us but the mailman.

  I stood on shaky legs as I made my way to the front door and jerked it open.

  I failed.

  I failed.

  I failed.

  I smelled him first, the familiar scents of expensive scotch and cigar smoke mixed with the humid heat of Jersey during June.

  And my dad, around thirty pounds heavier since I last saw him, wearing a three-piece suit and sunglasses more expensive than my rent, leaned his body against the doorframe and rasped, “He needs you. And so do I.”

  “Is he okay?” A dense fog of emotion threatened to smother my body as I waited for him to answer.

  “I have the best doctors tending to him,” he finally said, looking over my shoulder at my mom. His expression didn’t change, but his posture stiffened as he looked from her back to me and whispered, “I think I have an offer you won’t be able to refuse.”

  And in that moment, I could have sworn I heard the sound of golden handcuffs being clipped onto my wrists as I muttered, “Come in.”

  Chapter Three

  ISOBEL

  Numb, I was numb.

  And I was angry.

  And I was sad.

  And so many other tumultuous emotions that I couldn’t define or even begin to swallow, because above all else . . . I, Isobel Cunningham, felt relieved.

  Relieved!

  Tears stung the back of my throat as I paced the hospital hallway. Nobody would let me see Julian, and only family was allowed in, which I technically wasn’t since I hadn’t said I do.

  I was a nobody, with no family other than the man I’d just broken up with who was currently fighting for his life. I realized then how heavily I’d relied on him for everything in my life.

  He didn’t want me to work, so I volunteered at this very hospital, in the children’s cancer wing. He paid for our home, my clothes. My life revolved around him.

  And despite facing his possible death.

  I still felt . . . relief.

  Was I a monster?

  Did I deserve to burn in hell? Because all I kept thinking was that it was over. I was torn between mourning for a man I didn’t recognize anymore and berating myself for feeling this weight lifting off my chest.

  I refused to think about all my reasons for needing the approval of both Julian and his father, but the minute they accepted me, I had somehow started to accept myself, until I realized that their acceptance was just another fancy word for control.

  We accept you, but you need to wear that designer for us.

  We love you, but love takes place on the Tennyson family watch.