Defiance of the Heart (Book 2) Read online

  At one time, that thought would be farfetched, but now, it’s fact.

  Stepping into the walk-in closet, I switch on the light and pause to take in everything I once was. The designer brands and expensive price tags were my announcement to the world that I’d changed from the poor girl I once was. But looking at it now, I realize that even though I was poor, I knew who I was, and I was happy. She may not have had all the luxuries, but she was real.

  Running my fingertips along the soft rich material of each garment, I wonder at what precise moment did I sell my soul.

  Reaching for the Louis Vuitton overnight bag from the top shelf, I begin to pack. I don’t know how many days I’ll be here because as much as it pains me, Lincoln and I still have a lot to discuss. Now isn’t that time however.

  “Where are you going?”

  Even his voice grates my nerves.

  “Anywhere but here. We have a lot to talk over, but I refuse to do that here, together.” I grab handfuls of clothes and stuff them into the bag as the urge to flee is suffocating. I don’t even care what I reach for. I just need to leave.

  “You can’t stand to be under the same roof as me?”

  “Are you serious?” I spin quickly, my chest rising and falling as my anger mounts. “I can’t stand breathing the same air as you. How can you not see the gravity of what you’ve done?”

  “I made a mistake. I’m sorry. I was young and stupid.” He spreads his arms out wide as if his reason excuses him.

  It doesn’t.

  “What about sleeping with Belle months ago? What’s your excuse then?”

  Lincoln senses this isn’t a fight he’ll win. Now or ever. “I don’t have one. I went back to LA, and she threw herself at me. I’m only human. You were so cold. Detached.”

  I scoff as the more he speaks, the more I want to strangle him. “You’re such a pig. So it’s my fault you cheated?”

  “Of course not.” He marches forward, but soon stops when I reach for a stiletto, intent on using it in any way I can. “I shouldn’t have done it. I should have told you, but I was scared of losing you. I don’t apologize for doing anything to keep you.”

  “You lied to me.”

  “We’ve both been dishonest.”

  He’s right. But two wrongs don’t make a right.

  “You’re going to throw all this away?” He gestures between us when I refrain from throwing up. “To punish me for making a mistake? I love you, Holland.”

  That’s it. I am done. “Stop saying that. You don’t know the first thing about love. You abandoned your daughter!”

  I promised not to mention her, but he needs to acknowledge her. That she is a living, breathing person he chose to forget instead of stepping up and being a man. A father.

  Just how London did.

  He runs a hand down his face. “I was eighteen! What did you want me to do? I don’t even know if she is mine. Belle wasn’t exactly the faithful type.”

  Although what he says is true, that doesn’t excuse his actions. It didn’t stop London from taking full responsibility and proving what an honorable man he truly is.

  As much as I want to throw that in his face, I won’t, as I’m still treading cautiously when it comes to Emily. I don’t want to give him any leverage.

  “There is no point in discussing this any further because nothing you say will change my mind or feelings. Ever. I want this done as quickly as possible.”

  He peers down at my ringless finger. “I can see that.”

  “Don’t worry. Your mother has the ring.”

  “I’m not worried about the ring. I’m worried about why you took it off. I gave that to you with the intention of you never taking it off.”

  “Well, I accepted under false pretenses,” I reply, disgusted I said yes in the first place.

  “Holland,” he begs, but I’ve heard enough.

  “I will file an agreement that is fair for us both. You can have the house.”

  “I don’t care about the fucking house. It’s nothing without you.”

  “We”—I gesture two fingers between us—“were based on lies. As far as I’m concerned, I’d be more than happy to forget the past ten years. I’ll send across the appropriate paperwork, have your attorney look over it, and then we can talk.” I don’t even know what clothes I’ve grabbed, but they’ll have to do. I need to leave.

  Zipping up the bag, I push past Lincoln. The mere brush of our shoulders has me shuddering.

  “You’ll be back,” he says, a hint of animosity shaping his threat.

  It’s what I need to snicker and shake my head. “I’m not Belle. Or any of the other women you’ve been with. You don’t scare me.” I don’t bother turning around to face him as I know this won’t be the last I see of him. Only the cockroaches survive an apocalypse.

  As I take one last look at my apartment on the Upper East Side, I vow to never step foot in here again. I will hire movers to pack my old life into boxes because I just want to focus on the future.

  Shouldering my bag, I open the door and breathe a sigh of relief when I shut it—a metaphorical feeling on this chapter of my life.

  Martha is waiting in her doorway, anxiously watching me. Her hair is a light purple and freshly permed. She no doubt heard me screaming because these walls are paper thin.

  “Is everything all right, dear?”

  “Yes, Martha. Everything is okay.” When she looks at my cheek, cementing my dishonesty, I instantly cover it in embarrassment. “Thank you for calling me.”

  “I have some of your things in my room.”

  I arch a brow. “Lincoln told me everything is back in the apartment.”

  “Not all of it, and only when I threatened to call the police did he bring everything back in.”

  He just can’t seem to stop lying it appears.

  “Thank you. I’ll have the packers stop by tomorrow. I’m sorry about taking up space.”

  “Never mind. I’m just sad you’re the one who is leaving.”

  “Me too.”

  “Keep in touch. If you need me, you know where I am,” Martha kindly offers.

  “Will do. I’ll call you with my new address.” But the truth is, I don’t know if that’ll be in New York or LA. “Thank you for everything.” I hug her tightly, realizing this might be the first of many goodbyes.

  My cell chimes in my back pocket, interrupting what would sure have been a world of tears. “I’ll call you once I contact the movers,” I say, breaking the hug while Martha discreetly wipes her eyes.

  I give her a final wave, before digging into my pocket and answering my phone. “Hello.”

  “Oh, Holland? I didn’t expect you to answer. I thought I’d get your voicemail,” says Yvonne, my personal assistant.

  She’s been nothing but wonderful, emailing and keeping me up to date, but the fact she’s calling has me wondering what’s wrong. She confirms my fears.

  “You know I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t an emergency, but Dave’s wife has just been rushed to the hospital. It doesn’t look good.”

  “Oh, god.” I cover my mouth with my palm.

  Dave is the reason I made partner at work. He believed in me from the very beginning and pushed to make me partner after the Rossi case. He should have retired years ago, but he said he’d rest when the big guy upstairs decided it was his time to go.

  His wife, Nancy, and he have been married for forty-five years. I knew she had breast cancer, but I thought she was in remission. It seems I was wrong.

  “This is awful. Poor Dave and Nancy.” My heart sinks. It proves just how precious life really is. “I’ll call him this afternoon and send my love.”

  When Yvonne sighs, however, I know there is another reason to why she’s calling. “I’m sorry to call. I know you’re probably busy planning for this weekend.”

  “This weekend?” I ask, walking toward the elevator.

  “Yes,” she replies with a giggle. “Your big day.”

  “Big…?” The wor
ds die in a garbled mess when I realize this Saturday would have been my wedding.

  The fact I forgot proves just how important the day really was.

  “Lewis asked you look over some documents when you have a chance. No rush. He knows you’re busy.” Lewis is another partner. I can only imagine how stressed he is right now.

  “I can come into work now. I’m in New York,” I explain, pressing the elevator call button.

  “You are?” She doesn’t hide her surprise.

  “Yes. Long story. I’ll tell you all about it when I get there.”

  “Okay. As long as you’re sure. Lewis would really appreciate it. I caught him sleeping at his desk today.”

  “That’s a first.” A sure sign just how dire things really are. “I just have to drop off a few things, and then I’ll be there.” I don’t want work to know my personal business, which is exactly what will happen if I show up in the office sporting an overnight bag filled with clothes.

  “Thanks so much, Holland.”

  “Don’t mention it.” I hang up, feeling remotely better about staying here for a few days since I now have something to do.

  While at work, I can draft up an agreement for Lincoln and me. No doubt he’ll make it difficult, but the sooner I get it figured out, the better.

  I catch the elevator to the foyer and hail a cab. As I rattle off the address to the Hilton, the closest hotel to my work, I then send an email to Lewis, letting him know I’m back. I also leave Dave a voice message, sending my love.

  Lost in impatient horns and a sea of traffic, my chiming cell interrupts the setting with what I’ve come to associate as my norm. Answering it without looking at who the caller is, I don’t have a chance to prepare my heart for the deep, honeyed voice that greets me.

  “Hi, Princess.”

  A flutter somersaults within. “London. Hi.” I sigh. His voice is like coming home after you’ve been gone for a very long time.

  “Hi. How are you?”

  “I’m okay,” I reply, which is code for I’m exhausted and it’s only lunchtime.

  There’s no sweet-talking with London today. “Did you see Lincoln?”

  “Yes.” I peer at my reflection in the window of the cab, my reddening cheek confirming I saw Lincoln in his true form. “I grabbed some of my things. I’ll stay in a hotel until I can figure out an agreement between us.”

  “So you’re staying in New York?”

  “For the time being. Dave, my partner at work, his wife is in the hospital. He’s been good to me over the years. It’s only for a little while.”

  “I understand.” He doesn’t seem happy with my decision, but he knows I have to do this. “What happened with Lincoln?”

  I shift in my seat, suddenly paranoid he can read my thoughts through the phone. “What I thought would happen. He blamed everyone else and didn’t take any responsibility for his actions. He didn’t deny anything because he knew it would be useless to argue with me. I argue for a living.”

  “So he admitted everything?”

  “In a sense.” I’m being vague as my cheek begins to throb.

  Pull it together. I stiffen my resolve because I don’t want London to know Lincoln hit me. It won’t solve anything.

  I decide to share my thoughts about Emily with him. I’ve put it off long enough. “I mentioned Emily. I’m sorry. I tried not to involve her, but he caught me in a moment of weakness.”

  “It’s fine. What happened?”

  “He said he was eighteen and didn’t know what to do. He also has doubts about whether Emily is his.”

  “She isn’t his,” he spits. “She may share his blood type, but she is my daughter. Just when I think I can’t hate that asshole any more than I do, he goes and raises the bar.”

  “I know. I just want to tread with caution when it comes to Emily,” I explain, hoping this doesn’t explode into a catastrophe.

  “Why?”

  “Because…I’m afraid he’ll use her as leverage.” I hold my breath, awaiting his response.

  “Motherfucker,” London whispers in a low snarl.

  “I have no proof, but…”

  “But you’re right to think that way. He has to go and shit on anything good. It’s in his fucking DNA.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”

  “How?”

  He has every right to ask. Nothing has been simple thus far, but I have faith. “I’ll have him sign an NDA. Ideally, I’d want him to sign over all custodial rights to you.”

  “We don’t live in an ideal world,” he counters, his frustrations warranted.

  “I know, but trust me, he’ll sign.”

  Lincoln’s reputation is far more important than his daughter. He won’t appreciate me threatening to spill that he’s a lying asshole who beats on women to his blue-collar friends.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I just know. Some things he won’t want to come to light.”

  “Like what things?”

  Shit.

  “He’ll sign,” I affirm, dancing around the reason.

  “What do you have to sacrifice to be so sure?” he asks, always so concerned for my well-being.

  “I won’t allow him to hurt you or Emily. I promise.” And I mean it. I will do anything to keep the people I love safe. But there is no fooling London.

  “Holland…” I squirm, imagining those astute eyes dissecting me closely. “What did he do?”

  I can’t lie to him. I know it would save a lot of pain if I did, but I can’t lie. I won’t tell him he hit me, but my silence hints that something unpleasant occurred.

  “Oh, my fuck…I’m going to kill him.” I hear something that sounds like glass shattering in the background.

  “London, stop. It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not okay! Not in the slightest. I’m jumping on the first flight.”

  I’m touched, but he can’t. “No, you can’t. You can’t leave Emily after she’s been sick. You have responsibilities back in LA.”

  “You can’t expect me to just sit here—”

  “That’s exactly what I expect,” I interrupt, shaking my head at his stubbornness.

  “That’s not fair.”

  “We both know life isn’t fair. It’s only for a little while.”

  “Any time apart from you is far from a little while,” he counters with an exasperated sigh.

  Alas, this is the dilemma we face. Living across the country from one another, we were bound to run into this impasse sooner or later.

  “I know. But what other choice do we have?”

  His silence is terrifying because within, I can imagine there is only noise. “We have a shitload of choices.” There is a promise behind his words. “But me staying in LA is not one of them, especially when that fucker is within reach of you.” London doesn’t suspect Lincoln hit me. If he did, this conversation would have ended minutes ago.

  An incensed breath leaves me. “You coming here will just make things worse. I understand you’re frustrated—”

  “I’m more than frustrated,” he growls. “I want to tear off his fucking head.”

  He is in no mood to be reasoned with, so all I can do is be honest. “I can’t stop you from coming here, but I’m asking that you don’t. I ask that you let me handle this. I ask that you trust me.”

  In the end, London will do what he wants. Just as I would. I can only hope he sees why I’m asking him to stay in LA. This situation is too fucked up as it is.

  The cab pulls up at my hotel and idles by the curb. “What you’re asking of me, Holland, I can’t promise.”

  “I know but try. Please.”

  Reaching into my bag, I pull out a fifty, giving the driver a hefty tip for subjecting him to my woes. Shouldering my overnight bag, I make my way toward the Hilton. “Okay, fine. I’ll try,” London finally says, and I close my eyes in relief.

  He doesn’t like it, but this is the best we’re going to get out of a crappy scenario.<
br />
  “Thank you. I love you. So much.”

  A laborious breath leaves London. “I love you, too. You’re my heart, Princess. Don’t stay away for too long.”

  Gripping the cell, I blink back my tears. “I won’t.”

  And just like London, I’ll try.

  Two Days Later

  “Holland? Holland?”

  Only when I hear my name being repeated do I look up from my mountain of work.

  Yvonne stands in the doorway, appearing fearful to enter. I don’t blame her. My office looks like a tornado has torn through it. But that’s the least of my worries.

  The moment I stepped into the office, I realized how dire things were. Lewis was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown and snowed under with paperwork that should have been sent out weeks ago. It appears Dave didn’t let anyone know how sick Nancy was and had spent his days skimming over his work to get home quicker.

  His dedication to work is admirable and displays what a great man he is, but these errors have set us back by weeks. Both Lewis and I have had to recheck all the documents Dave worked on, and sadly, the mistakes are vast.

  At this rate, I won’t be leaving New York anytime soon.

  Between all this, I’ve attempted to draft up an agreement for Lincoln and me. So far, I’ve yet to come up with something that doesn’t involve the words fuck and you.

  “I brought you coffee,” Yvonne says, holding up a Starbucks cup. “I really wish you’d eat something, though.”

  “I ate,” I reply, peering down at the wastebasket loaded with empty M&M’s wrappers. She doesn’t press and enters cautiously, avoiding the landmines of paperwork and books.

  When she passes me the coffee, I reach for it with gratitude. She really is the best personal assistant ever. I make a mental note to give her a raise. “Don’t forget you have a meeting with Victor Harris at three thirty.”

  “That’s hours away,” I say, leaning back in my leather seat as I drink my coffee. When she shakes her head, however, I almost burn my tongue when I peer down at the clock on my desk and see that it’s nearly 3 p.m.

  “Shit. Where did the day go?” I groan, ending my five-second break. “Thanks. Please hold all calls. I need to get this done.”