Indiscreet (The Discreet Duet Book 2) Page 3

  He cocked his head—I didn’t have to ask what he was talking about. Everyone in this city knew about my high-profile court battle with the del Conte family, in which I’d pressed charges of rape against Theo, and after a year-long battle, won a small piece of justice when he was sentences to six months behind bars (though he served only a few).

  “Which means you’ll want to keep it to yourself that she’s here,” Callie broke in. “For her own safety.”

  “Why are you here, Lil?”

  I turned to Will, whose penetrating green gaze—that same, unwavering stare that had appeared, night after night, as soon as I drifted to sleep—wouldn’t let me go. “Don’t call me that.”

  “It’s your name.”

  “Like Will?”

  “Like mine.”

  My mouth dropped. “Are you here to claim me? Because I am not your fucking possession, Baker!”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Benny cut in. “Maggie, Will and I came over to make sure you were all right. That’s all. No one is claiming anyone right now, isn’t that right, F?”

  Will grunted. “Li—Maggie. I just want to talk.” His voice was curt, but the look in his eyes choked back the next retort I had. “It’s been two goddamn weeks. I’ve been searching for you everywhere.”

  We stared at each other for what felt like several minutes, and the tension in the room flowered. Will’s eyes, deep, dark green pools, drowned me with their complexity, all the emotions that his taciturn self could never say.

  “Please, Lil,” he said, and his voice cracked slightly on the last word. “I’m dying over here.”

  “Oh, Maggie.” Calliope sighed under her breath. Benny shook his head ruefully.

  I couldn’t speak at all. Finally, after I concentrated on taking at least three full breaths to keep myself from running to him, I tore my gaze away and grabbed my purse off the counter behind me.

  “I’m going to go for a walk,” I announced. “I need to not be here right now.”

  All three other people in the room objected at once.

  “Maggie, maybe you should wait—”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t do that, honey—”

  “Lil, no—”

  I whirled around at the door. “Listen, all of you. I’ve been cooped up in this goddamn apartment for two weeks, waiting until my face wasn’t splattered across every tabloid in the country as the pathetic chick Fitz Baker took for a ride. I can’t take it anymore. Goodbye.”

  “Maggie!”

  The door shut on Will’s cry, and before anyone else could answer, I had already dashed down the hall and four floors down the service stairwell to the entrance of Calliope’s walk-up. I strode out onto Christopher Street walking so fast I was practically jogging.

  The movement felt good. After training intensely for a triathlon for over a month, I hadn’t done anything except yoga in Calliope’s small living room. My heart rate was up, pounding away in my chest, and the movement helped clear that excess energy.

  I was so intent on escaping that it took me a solid few blocks to realize people were clearing out of my way. The normally bustling Christopher Street emptied as pedestrians crossed the street or ducked down back alleys. A half a block later, I stopped and turned around. The sidewalk was now totally empty with the exception of three massive bodyguards, all of them forming a broad, triangular formation around the person who was doggedly following me: Will.

  I rolled my eyes. “What part of ‘goodbye’ don’t you understand, Baker?”

  He didn’t speak until he’d reached me. “You didn’t really think I was going to let you walk out, did you? I’ve been trying to find you for two goddamn weeks, Lil.”

  I shrugged. His betrayal was humming through me at this point. I was in no mood to be generous. “I’ve been around.”

  “Have you?” He spoke through his teeth, like he was trying not to bite my head off. “Your mother said you left as soon as I did. ‘New York’ was all she would tell me. I’m not even sure she actually knows more than that, but it was the only clue I had. Why else do you think I’d be in this fucking fishbowl if not to find you?”

  “Nobody forced you to leave my house before.”

  “What was I supposed to do after you slammed the door in my face? Go home to the hundreds of photographers waiting for me? Give myself up to the hunt?”

  I shrugged again, but I couldn’t connect with his eyes.

  Will sighed. “Why didn’t you tell your mother where you went?”

  I pressed my lips together. “You know as well as I do that Mama couldn’t keep a secret to save her life.”

  “Lucas doesn’t know either. Linda. Barb. None of them have any clue.”

  “No one does.”

  “Why?”

  And there was the question. I’d screamed out of Newman Lake and left a trail of my heart’s blood from one coast to the other. All calls and texts from Lucas and Mama had gone unanswered other than to let them know I needed to take care of some things in the city and that I was safe. My official reason for returning to New York was to report that Theo, my ex-boyfriend, had violated his restraining order. But the cops quickly informed me that the man had a rock-solid alibi, and that unless I filed for a no-contact clause in the order, Theo wasn’t prohibited from phone calls or texts. My lawyer had done just that, but it would be another week before a hearing.

  But I didn’t strictly have to be here for the hearing, of course. Callie was right. I needed to find a job. Get off her couch. Figure out what the hell I was doing in New York City if not playing music.

  “Maybe I didn’t want to be found,” was all I said.

  Will glowered. “I guess I wanted to find you more.”

  “I think you’re overestimating how much I want to see you.”

  “You’re underestimating how much more stubborn I am than you.”

  “Well, that’s the truth,” I started, right as a young woman’s voice broke through our little detente with an unusual amount of joy.

  “Oh my God. Oh. My. God. You’re—you’re Fitz Baker, aren’t you?”

  We both turned around to find a girl about my age, maybe a little younger, staring at Will with shocked eyes and a dropped jaw. She clutched her purse like she was going to rip it apart.

  “Oh my God!” she kept saying again and again. “I’m such a big fan! I cried when I thought you were dead. I’m not even kidding!”

  “Fuck off,” Will snarled as he set a hand between my shoulder blades and started guiding me around the girl, whose face immediately fell.

  I shook his hand off and dug my heels into the concrete, not even caring that the girl was already pulling out her phone.

  “Miss, please.” One of the bodyguards was already stepping forward to block the girl. “Mr. Baker is not taking photos at this time.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “Don’t be an asshole, Mr. Baker,” I snapped at Will. “One of your adoring fans wants to say hello.” I turned back to the girl, who was still ogling both of us openly as she fumbled with her screen. “I’m sorry for him.”

  She shook her head, her eyes a bundle of stars. I could understand, for the first time, why they called it “starstruck.” She really did look like she had been blinded.

  “I am an asshole, Lily,” he growled, low enough that only I could hear it. “I told you that a long time ago.”

  “People can change,” I hissed.

  “Can they?”

  “I don’t know, Fitz. Can they?”

  We glared at each other all over again like we didn’t have an audience, both of us trying and failing miserably to mask the anger and frustration vibrating out of our bodies. Will’s eyes flickered to my lips, and I hated myself for imagining, momentarily, shoving him down a side street and kissing him until I had scratched up his shoulders and given him a fat lip.

  “Talk about sexual tension.”

  At the sound of the girl’s voice, Will ripped himself away and plastered the biggest, fakest smile I had ever seen. And yet,
I recognized it. It was the same smile on every single one of the pictures I’d browsed over the last two weeks. Beautiful, blinding. Miserable.

  It physically hurt to see it.

  “Did you want a picture?” he asked through his teeth.

  The girl, flabbergasted all over again, practically fell over herself as she stumbled forward with her phone. “OmigodomigodomigodYES!” she squealed, shoving her face as close to his as possible while they posed for a selfie, glee practically oozing out of her pores.

  I stood politely off to the side with crossed arms, rolling my eyes at one of the bodyguards. The stoic face did not move.

  “Thank you!” the girl said again and again as she put her phone away and begged an autograph from Will. Or Fitz, apparently, since that’s what he scribbled on the wrinkled receipt she procured from her purse.

  “No problem,” he said as he handed it back. “Have a good one.”

  He watched as one of the bodyguards ushered the girl down the sidewalk, listening to her blather about what a great guy Fitz was. It was only when she’d crossed the street, and we stood on the block, alone except for his security, that Will turned back to me. The smile disappeared; now he had a face like thunder.

  “I hope you’re happy. In about ten minutes, this entire fucking block is going to be jammed with a hundred more like her. I guarantee you that photo is already on Twatter or Instashit or whatever bullshit time suck people use to invade other people’s fucking privacy. It’ll be all over the tabloids within the hour.”

  He looked around, like he expected another hoard of photographers to jump out of the fire escapes or the bushes at a nearby park. I couldn’t see them yet, but it was almost like you could feel the energy growing in the air. The trio of security was clearly nervous, their heads now on constant swivels.

  I looked at Will. “This is how it’s going to be now, isn’t it? We’ll never be able to do something like take a walk by ourselves again, will we?”

  Will softened a little at the word “we.” He opened his mouth, but said nothing, just grabbed the back of his neck and frowned.

  I sighed, feeling defeated. “Fine,” I said. “Let’s…”

  I almost suggested we go back to Calliope’s, but she and Benny would be there. I could see on Will’s face that he meant what he said––there was no way I was going to get away from him without at least a conversation. And I wasn’t really interested in doing that with any kind of audience.

  “Do you know somewhere we can go?”

  Will looked up, surprised. “Really?”

  I huffed. “Yeah. You said we have to talk. So, let’s talk. In private, if that’s possible anymore.”

  He blinked, like he wasn’t sure I’d actually agreed to what he wanted. Then, abruptly, he turned to one of the bodyguards, the one who seemed like he was in charge. “Garrett, call the car. We need to get out of here.”

  3

  Twenty minutes later, I found myself in an elevator of a building somewhere in Midtown Manhattan. It was one of the high-rises that peered over the city from beside the West Side Highway. The elevator soared up the side of the building, and through the glass wall I watched as the dank streets of Manhattan fell away, leaving me alone with the sky. And Will.

  The elevator stopped on the top floor and opened into a spacious penthouse apartment that was almost entirely chrome and white. I was almost scared to walk inside, worried that my Converse might track dirt onto the immaculate floors.

  Will, however, stomped in like he didn’t look like Pig Pen. It took him until he was on the other side of the massive living room to realize I hadn’t immediately followed. He turned around.

  “Is—is this yours?” I stammered from my spot in the foyer.

  It was so unlike the Will I knew. His house on Newman Lake was nice, sure, but it wasn’t terribly big or anything, and everything in it, from the furniture to the clothes to the floors, while of good quality, was definitely used regularly. This place, on the other hand, between its gleaming parquet floors, the all-white furniture, walls, cabinets, and counters, and the bright metal fixtures that had nary a fingerprint, looked like a showroom, not someone’s actual apartment.

  “Oh,” Will said, clearly reading my face. “No. It’s Benny’s place, not mine.” He wrinkled his long, straight nose. “He’s barely here. Otherwise, I don’t know how he could live in such a damn refrigerator.”

  I don’t know why, but I did find it soothing that Will didn’t like the cold, sleek interior. The apartment was all angles and shiny surfaces. I was afraid even touching the couch would leave a mark.

  “Come on,” Will said, jerking his head to the right. “The stairs are this way.”

  I followed him past a row of closed doors until we reached a spiral staircase at the end, which we climbed up to the top of the world.

  Well, not really. But this was one of the tallest buildings in this part of Manhattan, and from its roof we had a panoramic view of the entire city, the Hudson River below us, across the water to New Jersey, and beyond.

  Benny had filled the roof with furniture, a wet bar, even a pool in one corner—all of it meant to host an army of people. But right now, it was only Will and me, sharing no walls in a city where everyone shared at least one. We were out of sight—without even a building close enough to house telephoto lenses from across the street. We were truly alone.

  Will strode to the edge of the deck and braced himself against the iron guardrail, making his shoulders and back flex ostentatiously through his t-shirt. He stood at the edge of the building for a long time, surveying the city like a king while the wind whipped strands of hair loose from its messy knot.

  But I was too upset to ogle. I was angry, and so was he. And more than that, he looked…tortured. His eyes closed tightly, and a few small lines appeared across his forehead. It was everything I could do not to reach out and smooth them away.

  Instead, I sank down into one of the couches assembled around an unlit fire pit. Will stayed at the railing for another minute or two, then stood back up. When he located me, he crossed to the couch and stood in front of me, giving me a good look at his long legs.

  “Can I sit next to you, or will you run again?”

  There was no trace of resentment in the question. He was asking, honestly. My resolve melted a bit.

  “Sit,” I mumbled, scooting over a little, though there was really no need. This couch was almost as big as my bed.

  We sat there together in silence. Will had never been the type to volunteer much conversation—he kept things bottled up until they had to come out. Big things. Things like his real name. His real identity.

  But for once, I didn’t want to say anything either. I crossed my arms over my chest and concentrated on breathing. Not the fact that I felt so incredibly lost. Or the fact that I had no idea what was going to happen to me tomorrow, or the next day. I focused on breathing. Inhale. Exhale. And again.

  “You didn’t let me say sorry.”

  When I turned, Will was watching me with an expression that was halfway between curious and apologetic.

  “I just want to know why,” I said quietly.

  “Why what?”

  “Why you didn’t tell me.” The pain of his betrayal zigzagged through my chest, making it hard to breathe again. “I told you everything about me. Everything. All my worst secrets. All the things about me that I’m ashamed of, that I wouldn’t want anyone else to know. About my mom. About Theo—”

  My voice broke over the name, and I twisted back to stare at the city skyline. My heart felt like it was breaking, and I couldn’t fix it because it wasn’t currently in my possession. Instead, it belonged to a stranger, to a man I’d truly believed wanted a future with me. Wanted an “us.”

  But how could that be, when one half of the equation had never been real from the start?

  “Why did you come back to New York?” Will interrupted my spinning thoughts.

  I turned. “What?”

  “You said you
were done with New York for good, Maggie. Why did you come back here?”

  I frowned. “Well, to start, I didn’t want my mom and neighbors to get completely overrun by photographers.”

  Will nodded, like he knew exactly what I meant. “Sure. But why here?”

  I looked away. Somewhere in this city was Theo, fresh out of jail and newly served papers for the hearing. Just the thought of him caused a blade of fear to run straight through me. I could feel his hands on my knees, wrenching them apart as he forced himself between them. I shuddered, curling into myself. He would know I was here. And really, the fact that I hadn’t heard from him yet was possibly more frightening than if I had.

  “There was another text,” I admitted. “It was after you—I—after the race. I came back here to report that he was violating his parole, but that was a no-go. My lawyer says I have to wait until the hearing to request a no-contact addition to the restraining order.”

  Will started. “What do you mean, violated his parole? Did he do something else besides that?”

  “You mean besides showing up at my race?” I wilted. “Apparently he provided an airtight alibi. He was there, though. I saw him. I know I did. But nothing major will come of it.”

  Will stared at his hands in his lap for a long time.

  “So when it’s done,” he said slowly. “Can we go home?”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “Home, Lil.” He stood up, like he was ready to jump on a plane this instant. “Back to the lake, where we can work things out.”

  “Home?” The words sounded strange, almost alien in my mouth. “You want to go…home? What the hell does that even mean now?”

  Will collapsed back down to the couch. “I meant where we can work things out. Away from here and all this craziness.”

  “And what makes you think I want to work things out at all?”

  Will gulped. “Don’t say that.”

  “No, I’m serious.” I stood up and paced the deck. “What home? You mean the place where I’m nothing but drunk Ellie Sharp’s daughter, good for a pick-up and that’s it? Or do you mean your home? The one where you convinced me you were in love with me and forgot to mention, oh, I don’t know, your real fucking identity!”