He knew that it would be hard with her. She’d be stubborn, guarded. Fuck, he didn’t blame her. Every new detail he found out about her past, her life, it cobbled together the image she worked so hard to portray. The one she’d perfected so well that it had even fooled Duke.
Until the ranch.
He hadn’t been lying to her that day with the sun setting over the fields, with her looking so fucking beautiful it had hurt his heart—you couldn’t lie under Montana skies.
So he’d braced, prepared himself for the shit his friends went through. Technically, they were already in the middle of shit, but he had faith in the Greenstone Security team and himself to keep her safe. With the updates he’d been getting, Kitsch had been nowhere near getting info on her.
That was after they’d all fucked up with the assistant. Watching the pain etch into her very bones would be something he carried around forever.
None of them thought that Kitsch would be as bold or stupid to go that far. Mistakes in their business were rare, because when you made a mistake, someone could end up dead. They weren’t going to make that one again.
Or so they’d thought.
Duke had let the rhythm of the ranch, the breeze of Montana, and the company of his family lull him into a false sense of security. He forgot everything he’d learned watching all the other Greenstone courtships. It wasn’t always the outside forces that invited the most danger.
It was the women intent on fighting their own battles, or escaping relationships that scared them.
He wasn’t angry with Anastasia. He was furious at himself, and okay, slightly pissed at her.
Duke was planning on fucking her to get rid of the worst of it, then fucking her sweet later. Then a mix of the two for the rest of their lives—which would be long.
But he’d made another mistake. He realized that when he got out of the bathroom and was presented with an empty room.
I didn’t get far.
Because this time I didn’t steal Duke’s phone to call yet another queen-wearing designer to come and save me.
They’d done their part.
All of them.
They’d given me my life back. It was my responsibility to figure out what the heck to do with it now.
Apparently, what I did was run from B&B rooms without a key, a phone, a wallet or anything that would actually help me. It wasn’t smart. But I was too busy trying to hold a broken heart together, and it turned out movies were right about people who did that—they ended up doing stupid things.
The beach called to me because it was almost empty and there was a storm on the horizon. Barely any light was left from the sunset now, and I liked that. I didn’t want the beauty of it.
Salty air stained my skin as I sank down to my knees, staring at the waves. What was my plan now?
After Duke dropped me off at the house I owned, I’d be reunited with my phone. Most likely it would be full of emails, voicemails, alerts from news outlets wondering where the fuck I was. Not messages from Andre, though.
Pain hurtled through my body.
I’d have to go back to everything I knew that was missing—the only thing that mattered. For the sake of sanity, I skipped over that. I’d grieve with a bottle of vodka and some Valium later.
There would be interviews. I’d have to explain my absence one way or another, and then the police. Rosie had already assured me that nothing would trace back to me, and I trusted her. I figured someone like her, along with a notorious motorcycle gang would know how to cover up a murder.
Then I’d have to get back on the movie I’d been filming before this had all happened—if they were even waiting for me. It was still in production, so they’d have to reshoot with another actress or abandon the film all together. Normally I’d never pull anything that damaged the livelihood of the hundreds of people working on a film, but this one hadn’t exactly been in my control.
There was also the case of the ten or so extra pounds I was carrying around with me. Most directors would make comments. There would be pressure to starve myself again so I could be the familiar Anastasia Edwards everyone knew. But I wouldn’t be her, no matter how much weight I lost.
I’d be busy when I got back. That would be good. There wouldn’t be much time to think about how fucking empty my life would be.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I jumped from my spot in the sand. It was fully dark now, and I could only see the shadow of the man standing in front of me.
“I’m...” I trailed off. What was I doing? Then I remembered how he wouldn’t look at me, the way his voice had sounded. I straightened my shoulders and tilted my chin upward, even though he probably couldn’t see that.
“What the fuck am I doing?” I snapped. “I’m doing whatever the fuck I want, Duke! If you didn’t realize, I was kidnapped by a total asshole earlier tonight. I believed that same asshole was going to kill me. Maybe rape me. I think I have the authority to take a walk on the goddamn beach to process this. So how about you drop the macho asshole act for one fucking second.” I was yelling, screaming. I hadn’t realized how angry I was until just now. It was easier to be angry than anything else. “In fact, how about you stop acting all together? You don’t have to pretend to give a shit about me. You don’t have to drive me anywhere. You don’t have to take me to some picturesque B&B by the ocean. I can drive. I’m rich. I have plenty of people at my disposal to get my life back in order. I don’t need you anymore.”
That last part was a lie. A lie came easy off an angry tongue, one that was forked, and wanted its words to wound.
Duke hadn’t spoken or moved as I’d screamed at him. He’d just stood there and took it, stood there staring, but finally looking at me.
The sounds of the waves snatched away whatever words I’d hurled into the air. They didn’t make their mark. Didn’t wound Duke…because he didn’t care now.
I wasn’t strong enough to walk away. I wasn’t strong enough to yell anymore. And I had a shred of dignity left that stopped me from falling to my knees and begging him to love me.
Duke didn’t speak for a long time.
“Well I need you,” he said finally. Quietly. The waves almost stole those words away too before I snatched them up.
He stepped forward now, all the way forward. His hands went to my neck, pulling our foreheads together. “I will dedicate my life to giving you what you need. Giving you beauty. Giving you a family. Fucking making up for the fact that I let you go, let you stare death in the face and I wasn’t fucking there.” His lips pressed into my head. “I love you, Anastasia. I know I should’ve said it the second you uttered those words. But I thought I was being fucking smart. Being fucking gallant. I didn’t want your memory of me telling you my truth to be tied to the pain of your night. I didn’t want it tangled up in all this shit. I didn’t want to give you any reason to question. I wanted to wait until this shit wasn’t hanging over us, for you to be safe, so I could take you out to fuckin’ dinner, so you could get out of the prison that asshole put you in.” He leaned back to lightly brush his hands over my bruise.
“I don’t deal with fear well,” he murmured. “Mostly because I didn’t think I could really feel it after all that shit I went through. Thought I was broken somehow. But, baby, I’ve never even known fear until I woke up to that empty bed. I’m fuckin’ pissed at you for pullin’ that shit, but the punishment will happen later, and you’ll like it. But I understand why you did it. I understand it, but you scared me in ways that I didn’t think were possible. I imagined you fuckin’ dying, Anastasia.” He paused brutally, and his entire body shuddered. “You dying thinking that I didn’t love you. You dying at all. Going through my fucking life with the memory of how close I’d been to having everything.”