Awakening Beauty Part 17

Tyler couldn't move. He wanted to go after her, but her lies kept him rooted to the floor. Stop her, a voice in his head screamed. But she'd lied about everything in her life. And a wounded part of him said she'd lied about her love for him, too.

Chapter 11.

It didn't take long for Tyler to get a taste of what Lane, or rather, Elaina, had experienced before coming to Bradford.

And it was ugly.

A band of newspeople had made camp across the street from his house, for crying out loud. One idiot had tried to climb the live oak in his yard for a picture into his bedroom and ended up in the azalea bushes. He'd managed to ignore them for two days, but now they were like dogs after a bone.

"Did you know who she was, Mr. McKay?" a reporter shouted as Tyler walked to his office.

"Were you aware of the Giovanni family's mob connections?" said another.

"Were you hiding her, McKay?"

"Just how intimate were you with Miss Giovanni?"

That got him. Tyler rounded on the group that had followed him to the door of his office building, and a few backstepped. The way he was feeling, he would enjoy punching a few faces and not mind the jail time he got for it. Anything was better than the emptiness. He'd never felt so miserable.

"Get off my property before I have you all arrested for trespa.s.sing."

"It's a free country, McKay."

"You're right, but I own this land." He turned to the doors, stepping inside. The little group of reporters rushed toward the building. He locked the doors and looked at the guard and the receptionist. "Call DJ and tell him what's going on," he said, referring to the sheriff. "I want those idiots off McKay property."

"Yes, sir," the receptionist said, picking up the phone. "If we're getting this-" she gestured at the people gathered outside the door "-then what is Miss Douglas, I mean, Ms. Giovanni, suffering?"

Tyler's features tightened. He knew. His mother had taken pleasure in raking him over the coals and informing him that Lane hadn't left her house because of the press. Her customers couldn't get into her shop, and she couldn't get out of her house. And worse, Lane didn't seem to care.

He strode to his office and slammed the door shut behind him, tempted to throw his briefcase at the plate-gla.s.s window and watch it shatter. The thought of never seeing her again, touching her, was driving him insane. He wondered what she was thinking and feeling. He wanted to be near her. Wanted her to turn to him. But why should she? She had and he'd turned his back on her, he realized. He didn't have to ask if Lane regretted telling him she loved him. He'd recognized it in the look on her face when he'd let her walk out.

He'd broken her heart.

And it was killing him inside.

He stared at the phone, then grabbed the handset and punched in her number. He got her answering machine and imagined her sitting there, staring at the phone. Alone. Hanging up without saying anything, he dropped into his leather chair and spun it toward the window.

Lane's face flashed in his mind, the absolute desolation she wore when she'd walked out of his house. As if she'd expected him to turn on her. And he had. His heart ached more than he'd ever imagined possible. d.a.m.n, he thought, rubbing his face with both hands. This stinks.

She wasn't a dowdy bookseller. She was an heiress, for heaven's sake. A famous fashion designer. No wonder she could make those costumes so quickly, and that gown. And despite his hurt, his body tightened as he remembered how every man at the ball had wanted her. And the pride he'd felt because she was his. His woman. His love.

And he'd lost her. He'd turned his back on her and lost her.

Seeing how the tabloid press chased him, he didn't have trouble imagining how it had been for her. He'd read the articles and headlines on the Internet, and each one was like a knife that hacked at his conscience.

He stared blankly out the window and wondered which was worse a man who was left with only his pride or a man who left the woman he loved to the wolves.

A second later he was out of the chair and heading to the door.

Lane had been on her latest crying jag when the phone rang. She listened, waiting for the caller to speak, knowing it had to be another reporter, because Tyler hadn't spoken to her in two days. He hadn't called. But when she heard her brother's voice, she s.n.a.t.c.hed up the phone.

"Angel, I could just kill you."

"I'm sorry, kitten. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Yeah, I've heard that before. Your life has ruined mine!" She swallowed, fighting tears and wishing Tyler was here to lean on. "How did you get this number?"

"Papa gave it to me."

"The traitor."

"I begged, because there's something I need to tell you. Can you meet with me?"

"Like I can get out the door without someone attacking me."

"Try. We have to talk."

He sounded troubled. "Where?"

"There's a little diner near the turnoff to a place called Hardeeville."

"I know where it is. This is my town, remember."

"An hour."

A few minutes later, Lane braved the crush of reporters and made it to her car. A half hour later she walked into the diner. Her brother rose from a booth in the back, looking as handsome as ever. He wore jeans and a leather bomber jacket like Tyler's, not his normal uptown look. Angel had never stepped out the door wearing anything less than his eye-catching best. On top of that, he hadn't shaved and his hair was nearly brushing his shoulders. As she stopped in front of him, she couldn't decide if she wanted to hug him or hit him.

"Hi, kitten."

Lane folded, letting him hold her for a long moment before they parted and slid into the booth. "Talk, brother," she said in Italian.

He glanced around and leaned forward. "I've been working with the authorities for three years now." He, too, spoke in Italian.

"Authorities? You mean the FBI?"

"Yeah, sorta."

Lane listened as Angel told her that the FBI approached him for his help, and used his high profile status to make friends with suspected mafias and learn all he could.

"Oh, my G.o.d." She fell back into the cracked leather seat. No wonder he wouldn't say anything and had kept to himself. Infiltrating the mob? Part of her was intensely proud of the bravery that took, and another part was still smarting that she'd paid the price for it. "d.a.m.n you, Angel. Your jaunt as a spy ruined me. Because you said nothing to clear this up, I lost everything, including the man I loved."

He scowled. "Dan Jacobs is a bug."

"Not him, you idiot. Good intentions or not, you should have warned me and the family. Jacobs might have used me for a story, but you used all of us. It was cruel and unfair, Angel. I had to lie to people I care about and I lost the man I love because of it."

"You're in love?" He smiled. "That's great. What's his name?"

Ever the romantic, she thought. "It doesn't matter anymore." She was too tender to talk about Tyler to her brother.

"I guess this means you won't forgive me."

She sent him a hard look. "Give me one reason any of us should."

"We got the bad guys and I'm training with the FBI."

She blinked. "Are they nuts?"

"Surprisingly, I'm good at their sort of work." He released a sigh and picked up a paper napkin. For several moments, he watched his moves as he molded it into the shape of a mushroom. "We were born into money, Elaina, and I never worked hard like you or Sophia or Ricco, for something of my own. I won't get into what happened to make me aware of my shortcomings, but I didn't like who I saw in the mirror, and I didn't deserve all that money."

Whatever happened had changed him drastically. "And now you do?"

Only his gaze shifted and Lane saw a dangerous side of her brother she never thought existed. "I doubt I ever will, but at least it's being put to good use. It gave my life meaning."

"I'm glad you've found a true purpose, but it destroyed my career in the process."

He scowled at her bitterness. "You could get it all back and you know it. You chose to fold up shop." At her glare, he put up his hand. "Okay, okay. I'm not shifting blame, but are you ever going to forgive me?"

"I'll make the effort." Because he seemed to need it so badly, enough to risk coming to her. Her lips curved into a soft smile. "I'm proud of you, Angel."

He melted into the leather seat with relief. "Thanks, sis. So who's this man you love?"

Her expression closed and she stood up to leave.

He leaped after her, grasping her hand. "I'm sorry, Elaina, If I could make things right for you, I would."

"You can't, Angel. There is only one person who can make it right." She cleared her throat. "And he doesn't want me anymore."

Tyler pushed his way through the throng of reporters on his way to A Novel Idea, but couldn't get more than five steps from the curb. They shouted the same questions as they had before, and Tyler ignored them until one man said, "Tell us, Mr. McKay, is Elaina a tiger in bed?"

Tyler froze, then turned slowly. A blond man smirked and pushed a microphone in his face. Tyler's gaze dropped to the man's press tag. And without a thought, he drew his arm back and landed a hard punch to Dan Jacobs's jaw. The man's eyes rolled back and he fell to the ground. Cameras flashed, but Tyler didn't care.

He pointed at Jacobs. "That's for Elaina." He looked at the paparazzi and said, "Why don't you ask Jacobs here how he lied, cheated and betrayed Elaina Giovanni for a story that was never there?"

Reporters then swarmed Jacobs, still struggling to get to his feet. Tyler walked to the door and pounded on it. "Elaina!" When she didn't open the door, he stepped out on the lawn, ready to make a fool of himself. "Elaina!" he shouted, and the upper-floor window opened.

Lane stuck her head out. "Go away, Tyler. Please."

She's been crying, he thought, and ached for her. "I'm not going anywhere. You either let me in or I'm going to stay right here and say what I have to say to the world."

Lane looked at the reporters, at Dan Jacobs clutching his jaw. "All right."

Tyler went to the back of the house and waited till she opened the door. He paused only long enough to deliver a dark glare at the people who'd followed him up the steps.

Inside she locked the door and headed upstairs without so much as looking at him. "Welcome to my world."

Tyler climbed the curved staircase, pulling out his cell phone and dialing. "DJ, what are you doing to get these idiots off Lane's property?" When he reached the landing, he saw that she had perched on the window seat in her living room. "Not good enough," he said to the sheriff. "Her customers can't get in and she can't get out. I call that interference with free trade." He listened to DJ for a moment, then said, "We're allowing this to happen to one of our own. And I don't care if they're across the street or in the river. Just get them back." He shut off the phone, pocketing it.

"Thank you," Lane said. "The police never helped me before, and I saw no reason to ask them now."

He crossed to the window seat, pushing back the curtain to see the horde on the lawn, drinking coffee while waiting, some accosting pa.s.sersby, who ignored them and moved on. "This is madness."

"Yes, well, at least they haven't printed pictures of us." Her voice wavered and Tyler felt it claw him down to his heels. "You won't have to worry."

"You think I give a d.a.m.n about those people and what they think?"

"It doesn't really matter now, does it? I didn't want this to backfire on you, and it has. But I did what I had to do to survive and don't have any regrets except how we ended."

Panic slithered through him. "We aren't done, baby."

She looked away. "It won't stop. My brother can't come forward he's working with the FBI. There'll be no end to this." She gestured to the window, then turned to face him. "I have to leave."

"No! It's running again, Elaina."

Hearing him call her by her real name drove an agonizing wedge into her. She'd wanted that for so long and hated that it gave her such pleasure when she knew he didn't love her.

"It's survival, Tyler. I lied to survive. I could not trust you with the truth and when I did, you turned on me."

"I know. I'm sorry, baby. But I couldn't believe you'd lie about who you were. That you couldn't trust me."

"Oh, Tyler, I did, but I didn't want to risk ruining what we had."

"Still have," he said intensely, sitting beside her, and when she tried to move away, he caught her hands, gripping them tightly. "Look at me, baby."

Lane lifted her gaze and Tyler folded inside. Such hopelessness, he thought.

"Why are you here? What do you want from me?"

"I want you to forgive me."

Her brows shot up.

"I couldn't see what you'd given up for a little peace and quiet until those vultures showed up. My G.o.d, Elaina, you gave up everything to be left alone."