Secret Surrender (The Forever Book 2) Read online

  “He can’t hurt you now, Kristen. I won’t let it happen.” He reached out and brushed the hair from my face, and I found myself wishing he didn’t have to leave town—the mace and the taser were helpful, but neither of them could make me feel as safe as Vincent did.

  Vincent paid for the items, by his insistence of course, but at least this time they were cheaper than a day of surfing. As we left the store and approached his car he put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into him. “You know, I think that rocket launcher suited you.”

  “I could barely hold it!”

  He leaned me against the driver’s side door; his hands settled into the groove of my waist. “You’ve handled more powerful things.”

  “Powerful, yes,” I teased, rising up onto the tips of my toes to bring my mouth close to his. “But not as big.”

  His hold on my waist tightened as he gripped at the fabric of my shirt, balling it up in his fists as if he wanted to tear it from me.

  “I’ve never heard you complain.” He planted a hard kiss onto my lips and I almost dropped my shopping bag, the sensation of his skin against mine sending a wave of desire through me. Worried that other shoppers might catch us in our heated embrace, I broke away from the kiss.

  “Too bad it’s not big enough to reach from Brazil to New York City,” I said.

  “What’s your schedule like tomorrow?” he asked as we got into the car.

  “I’ll be pretty tied up all day. I have a meeting with Carl and then I need to review some things on your account. Why?”

  “Just because I’ll be in South America doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you, what about video chat tomorrow night? How’s seven?”

  I leaned close to him, breathing in the sharp scent of his cologne. “It’s a date.”

  Chapter Two

  Vincent swung by a Duane Reade so I could grab Riley a few more cold remedies and then dropped me off at my apartment. I hated to say goodbye so suddenly but I knew he needed to get to the airport to catch his flight.

  I climbed the flight of stairs in my apartment building to my floor and saw two guys carrying boxes into the apartment across from me. One was tall and leanly muscular with a striped shirt stretching against his torso that seemed two sizes too small for his build. The other was short and stout with broad shoulders and bulging biceps. The odd duo reminded me of Mario and Luigi.

  A CD fell out of the box the short guy was carrying and I stooped to pick it up.

  “Here, you dropped this.” As I held out the cd, I looked at the cover. There was some weird picture of a sphinx—head of a man, body of a lion—except the head was female and the body was a motorcycle. The title read “Born This Way by Lady Gaga”.

  He set the box he was carrying on the floor inside, smiled, and took the CD from me. “Thank you so much. Can’t imagine going for long without these catchy tunes.” His smile widened and he offered his large hand. “Bernie.”

  I shook it. “Kristen.”

  He gestured to his tall friend who was unpacking kitchen items. “And that’s Kurt.”

  “Hello.” I waved. “Welcome to the building.”

  Kurt smiled and waved back. “Are you in the unit just across from us?”

  “Yep, the one with the blue ‘home sweet home’ doormat in front.”

  “Great to meet the neighbors!” He grinned.

  After exchanging pleasantries, Kurt and Bernie returned to their business, but not before inviting Riley and I over for dinner sometime after they’d finished settling in. They seemed like a nice couple.

  I opened my front door to find Riley curled up in a blanket on the couch, a steaming mug cupped in her hands. At least she was sitting up, a noticeable improvement from the last few days.

  “Vick’s vapor rub, moisturized tissues, and cough drops—strawberry flavored, of course.” I set the bag of items on the dining room table along with my bag of protective gear and flopped onto the couch beside her.

  “You’re the best,” Riley said, her voice still nasally. “But I still wouldn’t sit too close, I don’t want to get you sick. Vincent would probably never forgive me if a cold kept you from seeing him.”

  “Actually, he’s leaving for Brazil tonight for a launch party.” I tried to keep my voice even, not wanting to betray the jealousy that was lingering faintly in the back of my mind.

  “So that means I can cough in your general direction?” she joked.

  “No,” I rolled my eyes. “But it does mean I’m staying in. And I need your help with something if you’re feeling up to it.”

  “Okay. What’s going on?”

  I wrung my hands nervously, knowing that if I told Riley about the mace and taser I’d have to tell her about Marty, too. But she deserved to hear the truth, especially if there was a chance that she’d have to deal with him again. “I remember you had mace when we were in Cape Town and Vincent just bought me some. I was wondering if you could show me how to use it?”

  “Mace?” she asked as she set her mug down and turned to me. “Is this about your ex?”

  “Yes. I haven’t heard from him since the day he stopped by, but I just wanted to be prepared.”

  “Prepared for what, Kristen? You still haven’t told me what happened with him.”

  I hesitated, but the idea of finally revealing my past to Riley brought with it a sense of relief. “I met Marty in a business finance class,” I began. “I was a Junior and he was a Senior. We flirted a little but it wasn’t until he was my TA the following year that we really hit it off.”

  “Your TA, huh?” she teased. “Ms. Harvard Grad sleeping with the teacher, I almost don’t believe it.”

  I shot her a wry side glance, but I had to admit that Riley knew how to make a difficult situation bearable.

  “He was only a year older than me,” I said. “Not to mention gorgeous, smart, and completely charming. All of the girls in my class had a crush on him.” My stomach churned at the thought of Marty at the beginning of our relationship—the romantic dates, the small but sweet gestures, the intimate conversations. That version of him seemed so distant from the guy he turned into.

  “So why exactly are you afraid of him? You practically fled the apartment the other night.”

  “Things were great between us for the first few months. He seemed like a catch. But when the pressures of post-college life started getting to him he became jealous and possessive.” I swallowed a hard lump as I recalled the scathing names he called me, the minor but frightening ways he would grab me when I challenged him.

  “I know that’s not healthy,” Riley said, cocking her eyebrow. “But it doesn’t exactly make him dangerous. What aren’t you telling me?”

  I sighed and looked Riley in the eye, preparing to admit to her what I’d been hiding for so long. “Marty has borderline personality disorder, but I didn’t discover that until a year into our relationship. He could turn from charming to vicious in a matter of seconds. He would call me names if he thought I was flirting with another guy, sometimes he’d get aggressive—”

  Riley threw the blanket from her shoulders, seemingly agitated. “Aggressive? Are you saying he hit you, Kristen?”

  “No, he never hit me. But . . .” I held up my crooked pinky finger.

  She reached for my hand frantically and squeezed it gently with her own. “Oh my god, Kristen. Why didn’t you tell someone?”

  “He comes from a powerful family. I couldn’t tell anyone about it. Not even the police. So I left . . . changed my address, found a new job, and hoped he’d move on. But somehow he’s found me, and I’m not sure what he wants.”

  “Well now I feel like a complete jerk for pushing you to date, I had no idea you were dealing with this.”

  I smiled at Riley’s concern, feeling I had made the right decision by telling her. “How could you have known?”

  She looked up at me and twisted her mouth as if she had something she wanted to say but was afraid to say it.

  “You can ask me anything,
Riley. It’s fine.”

  “How did you deal with it? It must have been scary . . . being with someone who could turn on you at any second.”

  Silence settled over us as I considered her question. Had I dealt with it? I’d been pretty much avoiding the thought of Marty since I left Boston and even now, with the possibility of him in my city, I was still trying to push the memory of my relationship with him from my mind.

  “For a long time I tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal, like maybe it was a phase. But after the pinky incident I left as fast as I could and I guess I haven’t really dealt with it, not until now.”

  “Have you told Vincent?”

  “Yeah, and then he hauled me out to the middle of nowhere to buy me mace and a taser.”

  “A taser?” Her eyebrows shot up. “You’ll definitely have to show me that.”

  “Don’t you think it’s overkill?”

  A seriousness settled over Riley’s face as she scooted closer to me. “This guy could come back, Vincent just wants you to be safe. And so do I.”

  “Then maybe he shouldn’t have jetted off to Brazil.” I felt my cheeks grow hot with embarrassment as I realized how childish I sounded.

  “Isn’t he just going for business?”

  “Cape Town was business, too, but you saw him at the bar . . . women flock to him.” I tried not to picture bikini clad models latching onto Vincent’s arm and feeding him drinks all night.

  “But Vincent doesn’t flock to other women. Kristen, the guy bought you a taser.”

  I laughed as my hand instinctively wandered to the necklace he’d put on me earlier that day. Riley was right. I’d never seen Vincent so attentive or concerned as he was when we were at the army surplus store—it felt good to be with someone who cared about my safety instead of threatening it.

  “Will you show me how to use this?” I said, eyeing the necklace between my fingers.

  “That’s the mace?”

  “He got you one, too.” I walked over to the dining room table and pulled the extra mace cartridges from the bag as well as the necklace we had picked out for Riley, a star shaped pendant dangling from the end.

  “This is definitely more convenient than that bulky brick I’ve been carrying around in my purse!” she said as I handed her the necklace.

  We left the living room and stepped out onto the balcony so we wouldn’t chance inhaling the spray. After Riley showed me how to insert the cartridge and where to press in order to set it off, we practiced shooting mace at a potted plant. After a dozen or so attempts, we both felt confident in our accuracy and quickdraw. We also felt sorry for the plant.

  Although the practice was a much needed tension reliever, I couldn’t believe I was in this position again, only this time I was actually preparing for Marty’s possible attack instead of ignoring it.

  “Are you okay?” Riley asked, seemingly sensing my unease.

  “I just can’t believe this is happening.” I looked out over the balcony at the glinting lights of the city in the distance, wondering if Marty was still out there.

  “We’re doing this to make sure he doesn’t hurt you again.” She put her hand on my shoulder and I nodded, acknowledging her concern. “But we probably shouldn’t test out the taser.” She laughed.

  I smirked. “We wouldn’t want you couch-ridden again.”

  “Speaking of couch-ridden, I should probably rest.”

  “Me, too,” I said as I realized how exhausted I was. “It’s been the longest day.”

  We went inside and each disappeared into our rooms. I took off the necklace and placed it on my bedside table, still nervous that I might accidentally set it off in my sleep, and hid the taser in my closet. I would tackle that one another day.

  As I climbed into bed, I found myself thinking of Vincent’s trip to Brazil and realized that I no longer felt so nervous about it. I couldn’t deny that he was attractive and that other women would always respond to that. But for the first time since Marty showed up I didn’t feel so scared. In fact, I felt in control.

  Chapter Three

  I tried not to let my nerves get the best of me when I got to work the next day. I wasn’t sure what my meeting with Carl was for, only that he wanted me in his office at noon. The morning went slowly, my anticipation of the meeting causing me to look at the clock every few minutes. The dragging time made it hard to push thoughts of Vincent’s business trip from my mind. I hadn’t heard from him since he left. I knew he was busy but he could’ve at least managed a text.

  Although I had Vincent to thank for the greater sense of security I now felt with my mace and taser on hand, I couldn’t shake the lingering sense of jealousy I felt every time I thought of the launch party. Bikini clad models would no doubt be there to show off the new surfboard, and there would certainly be no shortage of alcohol. Vincent said it himself—he wasn’t used to taking things slow, and he definitely wasn’t used to commitment, how could I compete with models when I was on an entirely different continent?

  I tried to distract myself with work—skimming the accounts of a few potential clients and answering emails throughout the morning. When it was finally noon I made my way to Carl’s office, stopping in the bathroom to make sure I looked presentable, before giving a light knock on the door. A low voice called from behind it, telling me to come in.

  I opened the door and stepped into his office. It was almost as impressive as Vincent’s—a view of the Hudson River Park served as a stunning backdrop for plush leather office chairs, a glossy hardwood desk, and chrome fixtures that gave the space a classic but contemporary touch. Carl was poised over an open file, a silver pen flicking quickly across the pages inside.

  “Good afternoon Mr. Stansworth.”

  Carl immediately looked up from his work and gave me a smile, a refreshing change from Richard, who could barely tear his eyes from his phone. His remaining gray hairs were neatly combed. Although he had crow’s feet beneath his eyes, he was sprightly and kept in good health. “Afternoon Kristen, why don’t you take a seat?”

  I sank into the black cushioned chair across from his desk, the nervous energy I had worked up earlier hitting me full force as I contemplated why Carl had called the meeting. Had Richard complained about my performance? Did Carl know about me and Vincent? I’d never forgive myself if I’d let an attraction ruin my career.

  “You’re probably wondering why I’ve asked you into my office this afternoon,” he said as he carefully capped his pen and set it aside, focusing his attention on me.

  I swallowed and tried not to betray my panic as I answered him. “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, I’d like to start off by saying that you’ve done good work on the Sorenson account.” A warm smile spread across his face as he spoke. I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized that I wasn’t going to be demoted or, worse, fired for dating a client. “We knew he would be difficult to land, but you did it.”

  The nervous energy I had been feeling earlier began to dissipate with Carl’s encouraging words. It felt good to be recognized for the work I’d done, especially without the assumptions that my “feminine allure” had anything to do with it. Still, Richard was integral in researching Vincent and formulating our strategy for our first presentation—I really couldn’t have done it without his help. “Thank you,” I said. “But Richard did a lot of work on that account, too. I can’t take all the credit.”

  “Richard played his part, but you closed the deal. That’s what matters on an account like this, so congratulations. You earned that promotion.”

  “Thank you Mr. Stansworth.”

  “And that’s why I’ve asked you in here today, I was hoping you could give me your opinion on a prospect we’ve been trying to land for a few weeks now.”

  I hoped I wasn’t blushing, but I was flattered that Carl trusted me enough to consult me on a pitch I wasn’t even assigned to. “Who’s the client?”

  “Michael Cohen, are you familiar?”

  Anyone who worked at Wa
terbridge-Howser would recognize the name; in fact, most of the firms in New York City had been trying to take him on as a client ever since he dropped Ellis-Kravitz as his wealth management firm two months prior. “Of course,” I said. “He owns the most profitable industrial machinery company on the East Coast and is looking to expand cross country. I thought he had already decided to go with Waterbridge-Howser?”

  “So did I, but we recently found out that he took a meeting with Watson-James. We’re scheduled for a follow up pitch tomorrow but I think we need to rework our strategy—clearly it didn’t work the first time.”

  I hadn’t reviewed the materials, and I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to suggest anything useful. “I’m not sure I can be of much help,” I admitted.

  He opened a desk drawer below him and rummaged around for a minute before producing a thick manila folder. “I wouldn’t have asked for your help if I didn’t think you were capable, Kristen. Just take a look at this file,” he said as he handed the folder to me. “These are the documents from our initial meeting with Cohen. I’d like to hear any ideas you might have on a new approach.”

  I browsed the contents of the folder, comparing the initial proposal to the limited knowledge I had of Cohen’s company. Feeling emboldened by Carl’s confidence in me, I decided to point out the first inconsistency that I saw, hoping not to step on any feet. I took a deep breath, formulated my thoughts, and spoke. “The initial approach was strong, the emphasis on his expansion is key. But I think you might benefit from a broader focus on the strongholds he already has on the East Coast. Especially with the risk he’s taking by expanding, we need to reassure him of the solid platform we can build using his current assets. I think we need to show him that we’re invested in the business he’s already built, not just his potential for the future.”

  Carl twisted his mouth in apparent consideration, and I began to worry I’d insulted him. I wasn’t used to being consulted on large accounts; Richard was more of a delegator, leaving me to deal with prep work like charts and graphs rather than formulating strategy.