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14
STEPHANIE HOLLIS
Miceli woke me several times during the night, making love to me until both of us passed out from exhaustion. Then, he explained everything to me about my parents. I didn’t want to believe him. My father, FBI? Our parents were killed because someone figured it out? None of it made sense. Our father was an accountant. Had been all of my life, right? I couldn’t stop thinking about it, even as my eyes opened, and the sun bathed Miceli’s bedroom in soft orange light from the rising sun.
I should roll around in the bedding giggling like a fool because I’d had sex with the object of my affections or unruly crush or whatever. Instead, I gathered my knees to my chest, wishing I could go back to the night before, when I lay gathered in his arms, protected and secure. The new revelation of information put me back in a place where I wasn’t sure who I should trust or who I should turn to. Not that I was slighting Miceli, I wasn’t. He’d never hurt me. Others? Oh yes, especially if what he said was true, and someone exposed who my father really was.
“You look pensive,” Miceli said, stepping out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his hips. The wiggle of arousal consuming me pushed back my dark thoughts.
“Are you sure my father was FBI?” I couldn’t tuck the information away. The brutal edge of knowledge, of death, held fast at the forefront of my mind. I had so many questions. Some, I was sure, would be answered in time. Others, maybe never, considering it appeared my father was undercover.
“Yes.” There wasn’t a hesitation in Miceli’s voice. “This is overwhelming for you.”
“A little,” I replied. “Confused mostly.” I frowned. “Shouldn’t we have seen it? I’ve been trying to piece together my childhood and think about everything we’d done so I could find the exact moment when I should have known. Yet...”
“You’re torturing yourself,” he murmured, coming to the edge of the bed. “You’re chasing shadows because you want all the answers, or at least figure out how you missed something huge like this.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “I feel like if I could pinpoint a time in my life when I could say, this moment is when I should have known the truth. It would make all of this easier.”
“It won’t happen.” Miceli cupped my chin, lifting my face so I looked directly at him. “Those types of questions will drive you insane. Don’t head for that downward spiral. I’ve been there myself. You don’t come back the same person.”
My heart broke for him. If anyone understood Kyle and me, it was Miceli. He’d done this with his wife. A pang of shame worked through me at the idea of sleeping in her bed and making love to her husband, even though it was ridiculous because she’d been dead for so many years. “I don’t think I’ll ever be the same person.”
“One day you will,” he said, caressing my cheek. “One day you’ll wake up, and you’ll find everything hasn’t changed. You just see things from a different perspective.”
Nodding, I swallowed hard. “Perhaps.”
“You don’t regret last night, do you?” he prodded.
“No. Never. It’s a little strange,” I admitted. “I guess I had this whole scenario built in my head. I’m here now and things are different.”
He laughed. Of course he did. “Better or worse?”
I rolled my eyes. “Not that.”
“You can tell me anything, Stephanie. I’ll listen.” He scooted closer to me, placing his hand on mine.
My confession sat on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t let it slip. I’d been half in love with the man a majority of my life. One night of sex didn’t equate a relationship. Besides, I’d thrown us together under false pretenses. To expect him to reciprocate my affections because we had sex was juvenile. Sex didn’t equal love. Sex was just that, two people fucking and finding pleasure in one another. “I know.”
He continued to stare at me in the most unnerving of ways. Miceli didn’t push me, or harp on my new found reality. He sat there, waiting. When he realized the conversation came to a natural closure, or maybe when he gave up waiting me out, he stood and got dressed for the day. “I have meetings at the office. Rocca can take the day off should you need to rest after your harrowing day, yesterday.”
Right. “Miceli, I—” What? What was I going to say to him? I didn’t like the awkwardness surrounding us because I didn’t spill my guts. “Last night was the best night of my life, and I’d never change what happened between us.”
“But?” He glanced over his shoulder, cocking a brow.
“No buts,” I answered honestly. “I think I’m realizing for the first time in my life there aren’t any more secrets.”
He grinned, that stupid smug twist of his lips, the one that said he knew something I didn’t, and I wanted to rub it off his mouth or maybe kiss it away. I wasn’t sure. “No, there’s not. You know as much about me as I know about you now.”
True. I did. But I wanted more. He was a book I wanted to read. I needed to learn everything I could. Consume him. “Well, I’m sure there are some secrets you won’t tell.”
He winked at me. The sexy glint in his eyes gave me the only answer I’d receive. “Well, some things a gentleman never tells.” He came over to the bed to kiss me. “We’ll explore more of this later.” He kissed me again, this time he lingered, drawing a ravenous moan from me. He was intoxicating. Miceli dripped with sex appeal. If he said fuck work and climbed back into bed with me, I’d be fine with it. As it was, I knew he had business to attend to, and I had to tell my brother the tragic news about our family's secrets.
When I finally made my way to the cottage, I knew I must have looked a mess as I stepped inside, but I didn’t care. Let me rephrase that. I did, because my brother would know what I’d been doing, but not. However, the beast of burden was lifted from my shoulders—our shoulders and maybe now we’d figure out who killed our parents.
The only downside, I had to tell Kyle about our father. Perhaps, in the three years I was gone to college, he knew more about what our dad did than I’d been aware of. If Theo Hollis was FBI like Miceli said, perhaps Kyle overheard a conversation or two. At least, that’s what I hoped. Because between the two stories I’d been told, neither one was good. Wouldn’t we have known? Yes, I’d read books where the family was in the dark about the whole double life their parent—mom or dad—how they were in some kind of agency, most of the time, CIA. How they could come home from work at night acting like nothing happened, even though they spent the day trailing and killing some terrorist, paraphrasing, obviously.
“You look like shit.” Kyle’s words cut through the fog of questions laying heavy in my mind.
