19. Elijah

Anasty storm was rolling into Cape Avalon, turning the sky a gunmetal gray right as the sun was setting. I stood watch beneath the gargoyles at the Beaumont estate as the sea breeze grew angry, rushing past the back of my neck. The waves behind the house were angrier, fuller, more destructive than usual.

A black car sat in the circular driveway while staff loaded up furniture and file boxes. Kenneth stood watch over every piece of paper and sticky note being moved, ensuring that TBG's secrets stayed where they belonged. Per the instructions of the will, yesterday had officially been Preston's last day of work and today his exit was being made official.

A voice came over my earpiece. "Sir…Mr. Beaumont is asking for you again. What should I tell him?"

In the few seconds it took for Sylvester to disengage the call, I heard Luke say, "I can hear you over there. Tell him that I?—"

My stomach churned with frustration like the cresting waves. "It's imperative that I'm on duty outside today. I will be with him shortly when I'm ready."

"Yes, sir."

I stretched my neck from side to side and kept a careful eye on the flurry of activity around Preston's car and the several new faces who'd appeared today. Every person had been double- and triple-checked for safety, but we weren't taking any chances.

After the situation at the Shipwreck—and then, later, the South Shore Bookshop—Foster had declared the death threats against Luke to be high priority and officially escalating. We were now cooperating more closely with the police, though two days had passed and nothing had happened.

Two days had passed, and I'd been avoiding Luke ever since. Well, as much as a protection agent could avoid their client. But it was easy to stick the other agents close with him while I surveyed the perimeter and kept my distance.

I just needed some space to get my fucking head on right.

Except my head wasn't getting the message. My thoughts were still a tangled mess of thwarted desires that fractured my focus when I needed to be razor sharp.

And I couldn't stop thinking about how good it felt, giving in to something primal and forbidden. To press my nose to the skin beneath Luke's ear and smell him—saltwater, sunshine, the sandalwood of his aftershave. To hear Luke gasp in the shadowy darkness and know it was because of my touch, my breath, my hands.

Just one night, Elijah. Let me show you how much I want this, how much I want you.

When I'd finally collapsed into bed later that morning, I fantasized about doing exactly what Luke had suggested—watching him fall to his knees and take me between his lips, nothing but wet heat and friction, his harsh grunts and my heavy breathing.

All that dark hair of his, twisted between my fingers as I rode his mouth to a reckless pleasure.

None of that could happen now. Not with a client and never in the midst of active death threats. The boundaries of this profession were clear and uncomplicated—no personal relationships with clients. Not with your active clients. Not even with those you no longer worked for. Our company hadn't developed such a pristine reputation out of nothing. It was our dedication to respect, to safety, to protecting privacy at all costs.

As I'd learned with all things in this life, emotions meant complications and complications meant danger. For fuck's sake, I was being promoted to director in less than a month while spending every waking second wondering what Lucas Beaumont tasted like.

And this ache for him was unrelenting, clawing through my chest without sense or sympathy.

When I stayed close, I kept Luke from danger.

When I stayed close, Luke was the danger.

The scars on my cheekbone itched and I winced, flexing my fingers into fists to resist scratching. My own father had crashed his car with me in the back, too busy flirting with his pretty coworker in the passenger seat to pay attention to the stop sign he blew through. He and the woman had picked me up from school two hours late that day, a new record.

Before this, he'd talked my ear off about this specific coworker, who he swore was addicted to what he called "the chase."

They all want it like that,he'd said, while slapping aftershave on his ruddy cheeks one morning. Want you to prove yourself, prove that you deserve them. They won't give it away for free, and if they do, you don't want it. It's all biological, the laws of nature. You can look it up in any book.

They'd made it out of the accident without a scratch on them, while I hadn't been that lucky.

"Are you avoiding me?"

I went still at the voice, the same low, warm tones that kept haunting my dreams. When I turned, Luke stood behind me, one shoulder propped against the doorframe and his hands in his pockets. He wore a sleek black tuxedo with the bow tie loose and undone around his neck. His black hair was swept off his forehead, drawing attention to the intensity of his blue eyes, the dark lashes.

I felt a corresponding twist in my gut, a knot of need and desire that drew tighter with every passing day.

I cleared my throat. "I am not."

His lips twitched. "You haven't said a single word to me in days."

"Someone's out to kill you. I've been busy."

A spiky hurt flickered through his gaze. But then he dropped it, shrugging one shoulder. "Can you help me tie this thing?"

I hesitated, painfully aware of the various eyes and ears surrounding us—Kenneth, the staff, the wide windows and open doorways. My mouth was already forming the word no when Luke stepped closer, then closer still, and my hands rose to his throat as if he'd commanded it.

Every ounce of my control went to keeping my fingers steady as I looped the fabric. My knuckles grazed the hollow between his collarbones. At the hitch in his breath, my gaze shot to his.

You like putting me in my place.

His cheeks flushed and I wondered if he was reliving the same moment.

Hoped he was.

Hoped he wasn't.

"I know why you're avoiding me," he whispered. "And I don't want you to. In fact, I want the opposite."

I ground my back teeth. "If you're referring to the other night, it won't happen again. Your safety is of the utmost importance to me."

"Elijah, please," he said, in the same urgent whisper from the bookstore. The same urgent, whispered tone that sent my thoughts spiraling into the most dangerous of territories. My hands tightened on his bow tie and for a single terrifying moment I almost gave in and yanked his mouth to mine.

Footsteps echoed near us. I released Luke and stepped back as Sylvester appeared.

I didn't miss the way his eyes narrowed at the sight of us.

"There you are," he said, after a beat of awkward silence. "Is everything all right?"

Luke and I shared a charged glance, just as dangerous as his whispered plea. I shook it away and nodded. "We're fine. I was providing some updates."

"And, on that note, I wanted to talk more about those updates. In the office, if you have a minute?" Luke asked. His expression was pleasant, but I heard the nerves in his voice.

"I do," I said with a nod. "Sylvester, I'll relieve you in half an hour. Why don't you check in with law enforcement? They were supposed to call earlier and haven't yet."

"Sure…yes, sir," he said slowly. "On it."

I turned on my heel and followed Luke through the mansion, past the wide, double staircase and down the gloomy hallway filled with pictures of everyone except Luke, something I'd only noticed recently. Sylvester's concern followed me the whole way, prickling at the back of my neck.

Fifteen years in this job and I'd never, not once, been tempted to break the rules I wholeheartedly believed kept our clients safe from harm. And yet days into meeting Luke, and I was storming into his steam-filled bathroom over a minor cut from his razor. Was being kept awake at night, reliving every close call, every mistake I'd made, every charming grin he tossed my way.

I'd hauled him up against a wall with my hand slapped over his mouth, had smelled his goddamn neck before spilling the filthy fantasies I had no business considering.

Breaking this kind of rule would be the end of all of it. Forget being made director, I'd be lucky to find a job doing low-level security on shitty pay with a dark mark like that on my record. And then what was I going to do? Show up to see my mom and brother, empty-handed, with nothing to show for the promises I'd made when my dad left us?

I'm so sorry I couldn't pay your medical bills and provide food for your table and put my nephews through the best colleges. I was too busy wanting to kiss Luke senseless.

And yet even as I thought it, I remembered the texts from Christopher after he'd surprised me at work. The voicemail from my mother from a week ago, calling to say that she missed me. The many ways I was already failing them, just by putting this job first.

I blinked, and we were suddenly back in the office, which was even more torn apart than last time. Luke was behind the desk, rummaging around for something, and I noticed a worn-looking paperback on the very edge. Mayhem at Montauk Point by Nora Jackson.

"I wasn't aware you owned a tuxedo," I said, hooking my hand over my wrist.

He peered out from behind the desk and sent me a crooked grin. "I'm a Beaumont. I was raised in tuxedos, though it was always against my will. But I've got Senator Wallace's black-tie fundraiser tonight in the city and I thought I'd follow the rules for once. Pretty sure I was only invited so she could harangue me about the Sunrise Village protests in an even more elegant location."

"Right, yes." The tuxedo. Of course. I hadn't forgotten but I hadn't exactly remembered either. "The…the fundraiser. You'll have three guards with you tonight. We're not taking chances at a new location."

"Three babysitters. Lucky me." He rose to stand and placed a towel-covered plate on the desk. "I'm assuming you're one of them?"

"You assume correctly."

His throat worked on a swallow. "Then I'm even luckier."

I ignored the fluttering in my chest. "What's happening with the protesters?"

"It's definitely the worst media coverage TBG has ever received, and they're getting more and more of it by the day. The size of the protest is growing. Something Kenneth and the rest of the board are strategizing about, mostly by reminding me that I'm a disgrace to the Beaumont name." His grin widened. "I've been ignoring all of it and secretly sending pizzas to the protest at lunchtime."

My eyebrows raised. "I thought you told Nora and Mía that you couldn't help them."

"I'm not, I mean, not really," he said quickly. "But dragging my feet and being openly obtuse around Kenneth is a normal day for me. Seems like the least I can do so they can keep their housing."

I caught his eye. "So you are helping them."

Luke blushed red and the fluttering in my chest increased. "I, uh…well, okay, I'll preface this by saying…this is sort of silly, but I…got you something?"

He pulled the towel from the plate and pushed it toward me. I cocked my head, unsure of what I was seeing at first. But when I stepped closer, I realized it was a giant chocolate chip cookie cake, freshly baked from the smell of it.

The flutters became a flock of wings.

"I baked this here in the kitchen, so it probably tastes like sandpaper. But I…I remembered what you said," he continued, "about your mom making these for you when you stayed home sick. Because I just wanted to say sorry, again, for everything. For pressuring you to help me when it clearly goes against your own personal code and everything in that contract I signed. I know it's important to you and I never should have asked for your help in the first place."

I was still staring down at the cake, wondering when, if ever, anyone had ever done something like this for me before.

"This revenge fantasy is a hundred percent my own shit to deal with," Luke said. "Not yours."

I was so deep in hot fucking water that I was drowning in it.

"Luke," I rasped out, "this is?—"

Two sharp raps at the door had me spinning around with my heart in my throat. Preston barged in, looking slightly worse for wear. His jacket was wrinkled and there was stubble on his cheeks.

"I see you never got around to hiring that assistant."

Luke raked a hand through his hair. "Come on in. Wasn't like I was in the middle of anything."

"My apologies, I was only in the middle of being forced out of here," Preston snapped.

Luke winced. "I'm sorry, bro. It sucks. All of it does."

"And how does it suck for you specifically? You won."

"We were raised by the same narcissist," Luke said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know how it feels to be passed over. Know how it felt when Dad made me feel less than. But he's gone now and his very last message to us was one more fucked-up mind game, meant to bring about this exact situation." He took a tentative step toward his brother, who eyed him warily. "What if we didn't play his games this time?"

"I'm not…" Preston cleared his throat. "I'm not entirely sure what you're talking about."

Luke propped his shoulder against the wall, sending his brother a tentative grin. "Do you remember when Mom used to play carrot monster with us?"

An immense emotional struggle writhed across Preston's face. Finally, he said, "I can't look at a zucchini without assessing its ability to be worn as a costume."

Luke's grin brightened. "And I can't see a head of iceberg lettuce without remembering how you used to fashion them into hats for me."

Preston's lips twitched. "Poorly constructed."

"It was the thought that counts."

Silence hung between them, not as chilly as before. But whatever internal debate was happening within Preston ultimately won. He sniffed, checked his watch. "Anyway. I've passed off everything I could to Kenneth and the team that worked with me." His gaze drifted my way. "Given the increase in threats toward my brother, do I need to be worried?"

"No, sir," I replied. "We've increased security across the board and are monitoring the situation very closely."

Preston nodded and rocked back on his heels.

"Try not to get yourself killed," he said to Luke in a rush. Then he spun around and left, leaving Luke looking so uncharacteristically crestfallen I had to lock my knees to keep from going to him.

Luke was quiet for a bit before flashing me a sheepish smile. "We have a long history of being shitty to each other. But it wasn't always like that. We used to be really close. We used to be friends. Dad drove a wedge between us, turned Preston against me. But I can't really blame my brother. There was a time when I would have given anything to get Dad's attention. To have him look at me, to see me, to hear me." He shrugged a shoulder. "And how fucked up is that?"

I swallowed hard. "You two were just kids. It's Lincoln's fault, not yours. There's nothing wrong with…with wanting to be loved."

The look of shy astonishment in his eyes had me locking my knees again. He slowly pushed the plate with the cookie cake across the desk with a single finger.

"You can be honest, Elijah. This was a terrible idea, right? Also, I legitimately cannot bake so maybe don't even eat it? It could poison you. It could kill you. Then I'm definitely getting murdered since you won't be around to stop it. Probably immediately. I'll walk out that door and boom, murdered."

I stopped the plate's movement. "Luke. This won't poison me and I'm not letting you get murdered. Immediately or otherwise." Then I took a long, steadying breath. "People always thought my father was charming. He was, in his own way. The way that manipulative people are. And he lied about everything. Broke my mother's heart. Treated my brother and me like rounding errors, just mistakes that cost him money he didn't have. I spent most of my childhood tracking his mood, because if he was in a bad one…" I paused. "You didn't want his attention to land on you."

Luke nodded with understanding. "It's like being under the world's worst microscope."

"Yes, it is." I paused, weighing my next words against all that could go wrong, all that had already gone wrong. "This isn't easy for me to admit. But I wasn't unaware of your father's cruelty. Most people with his power and privilege are cruel in some way. I've seen extreme wealth worsen my clients' worst instincts before, including your father's. If he was hiding something, I understand why you want to find it. Why you want to expose him. And I'll help you do it."

Luke reared back. "Elijah, that's wonderful but…it's not necessary."

"I want to help. I do." Then I reached forward and broke off a piece of the cake, popping it in my mouth. The chocolate was still warm, melting against my tongue. "This is delicious."

Luke broke into a smile—full, dazzling, brilliant.

And I was helpless to resist it.