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“Well, maybe Laird would be good for Lana.”
“And maybe he’ll fuck up and make things worse.”
“Hey! I’m right here,” Laird said, waving at the brothers before scowling at Vince. “And thanks for the vote of confidence, bro.”
“Sorry. I know you,” Vince said with a shrug by way of apology. “I just can’t afford for you to be…well, you.”
“That’s a pretty big glass house you’re standing in,” Laird growled. “Need I remind you of who you used to be before your pretty wife lopped off your balls and tucked them into her designer handbag?”
“Haters gonna hate,” Vince said, grinning like a smug bastard. “Don’t be jealous of my happiness. It’s unattractive.”
Laird blew out a breath of irritation and rose from the table. “You guys are no help. I’ll figure this out on my own.” He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door as Vince called out after him.
“Just stay away from Lana.”
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. He needed to talk to her.
Maybe if he apologized…his guilty conscience would be appeased and he could get back to normal.
Except, a part of him worried…he didn’t know what normal was anymore.
-6-
Lana curled up in her recliner, feet tucked beneath her, stuck in a terrifying spiral of depression and self-loathing that she couldn’t quite break free from. The events of the evening kept cycling through her head and each time she got to the point where she bolted like a giraffe with a poacher in hot pursuit she just wanted to sink deeper into her chair. He must think she’s a total lunatic.
It was his fault for kissing her, she wanted to cry but she couldn’t actually cling to that excuse because a part of her had loved being in his arms — had loved the feeling of being safe and cherished — because she’d cut that part of herself off after the attack. Somehow it felt wrong to enjoy attraction or arousal now. She didn’t know how to separate what’d happened to her in the past from her battered sexuality.
At one time she’d been adventurous, wild. And Laird had been right. There’s no way she would’ve found a way into Malvagio if she hadn’t been of the right mind to fit in. She’d never been a prude. She’d loved sex. She didn’t even mind a little light spanking now and then to spice things up but she’d never imagined that her curiosity would land her in the clutches of a psycho. How could she? Tears leaked down her face and she didn’t bother wiping them away. There were plenty more where those came from. She sniffed and buried her head in her arms, crying softly as her mind threatened to break.
She just wanted to be normal again. If she were normal, that kiss wouldn’t have broken her. She could’ve taken control and seen where it would take them but no, she had to crumple like a marionette with its strings cut.
A knock at her front door drew her abruptly out of her haze and she thought with a groan, it was probably Emma coming to talk to her about the evening, which she certainly didn’t want to do. But if she knew her sister she’d keep knocking until Lana let her in or worse, she’d just let herself in with the key. Unfolding herself from the chair, she made a quick pass at wiping her face yet there was no hiding the red splotches that betrayed her crying jag and reluctantly opened the front door.
“You’re not Emma,” she said in a pained whisper as she stared at Laird standing on the other side, holding a fresh spray of flowers. “What are you doing here?”
“May I come in?” he asked and she shook her head. “Please?”
She swallowed, another refusal ready to drop but her feet had other plans and she stepped aside, allowing him to enter her apartment.
The first time Laird had shown up at her apartment, he’d whisked her away on the pretense of taking her to see Emma in the hospital but he’d detoured to his place and had kept her there for two weeks. Seemed a lifetime ago now.
She closed the door and wondered what he was thinking. Did she look horrendous? Certainly a far cry from the splendor of last night, she thought sadly. “Are those…for me?” she asked, unsure of why he would be bringing flowers.
“Oh! Yes,” he said, as if just remembering he was holding what looked like a very expensive bouquet in his hands. He handed them over and she took them, lifting the flowers to sniff at the blooms. “I didn’t know what flowers you liked so I just bought the rarest flowers in the shop.”
“They’re beautiful,” she murmured, going to the kitchen to fill a vase. “But why are you bringing me flowers?” To her surprise he seemed nervous. When he began to fidget, she knew something was eating at him. “Are you okay?”
“Can we sit and talk for a minute?” he asked, surprising her.
“If it’s about last night—“
“Please?”
It was that earnest plea that broke down her defenses. She’d never seen Laird so undone. He was always the cool cat with the smug smirk and the smart-ass answer for everything but this man…he seemed like a lost boy. And it was ridiculously endearing.
He took a seat near her on the sofa and said, “Look, I don’t know how to say this because I’ve never been in this position before but I feel bad about what happened last night. I should’ve been more sensitive to your situation and what you’ve been through.”
“You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Lana said, trying hard to keep the tremble from her voice. “The kiss…it was nice.”
Laird’s expression softened and a small smile curved his lips. “It was,” he agreed. “You have very nice lips. Very kissable.”
Her breath caught and she blushed. Were they really having this conversation? Seemed surreal. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I appreciate the flowers but I don’t hold you responsible for what happened to me. The fact is…I’ll probably always be broken.”
Laird fell silent as if troubled by her belief but unsure of how to respond because perhaps he agreed. Finally, he said, “I have a confession to make. When you were staying with me, I did a little reading on post-traumatic stress disorder after you told me that you suffer from panic attacks.”
She met his gaze with open curiosity. “You did? Why?”
“Because…I liked you. I hated the idea of you being railroaded by your situation for the rest of your life. I wanted to believe that you could heal and be whole again. I’m not going to lie…my motives weren’t altogether altruistic. What can I say? You’re a beautiful woman and beautiful women are my weakness.”
She allowed a tiny smile. “And what did you find in your research?” she asked, curious.
“Well, it takes time — and I’m no therapist or anything — but you had something bad happen to you and the brain wrote that information in your computer, logging it into your programming. So what you need is…new programming.”
At that she couldn’t help but chuckle, murmuring, “I’m not a microwave oven. I think it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“Actually, it’s not. Before I dropped out of college, I actually was on track for my MBA in business with a bachelors in psychology. I thought that it might work in my favor to have a deeper understanding of how people tick. Might make it easer to get jobs, hire people, etc.”
“I didn’t realize you were so educated,” she admitted, seeing him a bit differently. “Why’d you quit?”
“Long story…well, actually not so much long as it is boring. I grew up rich, never knew a moment of want or need and when my grandmother died, I was even richer and I realized, why the hell am I kil
ling myself for a career I don’t need? I’m independently wealthy. So why work?”
“But don’t you want something you created for yourself?”
Laird shrugged. “Too much work. Why recreate the wheel? Besides, I was a young twenty-something kid. I didn’t want to work hard, I wanted to play hard.”
“What did your family think of your decision? How’d they react to the news?”
“Oh, about as well as you might expect. Dad nearly popped a vein. I lost my mom years ago and my step-mom du jour, well, she just rolled her eyes and poured herself another martini. My dad though…he lost respect for me. We had a big row, he tossed me out, and we’ve been on opposite sides of everything since then.”
“I’m sorry, that must’ve hurt.”
“It did,” he admitted. “But I consoled myself with things that would make a good girl like you blush.”
She bit back a smile and admitted, “I wasn’t always such a good girl. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I put up a good front. My sister would be horrified if she knew how I was. She always had this impression of me that I was this innocent, fragile thing but I’d gotten into my share of trouble under the radar. I guess it just comes with the territory when your big sister is raising you. She was always afraid of me growing up. You were right about what you said. I wanted to get into Malvagio and I had grand plans that embarrass me now.”
“I wish I had been the one to find you that night,” he said softly and she blinked back sudden tears. “I’m sorry about what happened to you. It never should’ve happened.”
“It’s not your fault. I was stupid.”
“No, you were trusting. You had every right to believe that you would be safe and you should’ve been. We failed you.”
