Secrets of The Penthouse

Chapter 4

Kieran didn't just move. He exploded. One second the reporter's microphone was in my face, and the next, the world was spinning. His hand clamped onto my upper arm like a set of iron shackles. He didn't answer the woman. He didn't deny the filth she just spat into the air. He just leaned into the crowd, his eyes turning into black pits of pure, unadulterated rage.

"Get back!" he roared. It wasn't a corporate voice. It was a beast's snarl.

The flashes intensified. Pop. Pop. Pop. They were capturing every second of my humiliation. I looked down. Liam was still on the floor, his back against the shattered remains of the vase. Blood was smeared across his cheek. He looked at me, not at Kieran, but at me, with an expression so broken I felt my own heart c***k. He didn't say a word. He didn't tell them they were wrong.

"Kieran, help him!" I screamed, struggling against his grip.

"He chose his side," Kieran hissed. He didn't even glance at his brother. He hauled me toward the private lift, dragging my heels across the wet carpet. "Move, Aria. Now!"

"What did you just say? You can't just leave him there!"

"Watch me," he snapped.

He threw me into the elevator. The doors hissed shut, cutting off the shouting of the press and the sight of Liam's crumpled body. The silence in the small space was more terrifying than the noise outside. Kieran stood in the center, his chest heaving, his expensive silk shirt strained against his muscles. He looked like he wanted to tear the elevator apart with his bare hands.

"You told him," he said. It wasn't a question. It was a death sentence.

"I didn't tell him anything!"

"Then why did he claim it? Why is the entire world asking if my brother is the father of my child?" He turned on me, his shadow swallowing me whole. "Did you go to him that night? After I was out? Did you crawl from my bed to his?"

"No! God, please, Kieran, listen to me!" I backed into the corner, the cold metal of the elevator wall biting into my spine. "I haven't been with anyone but you. I don't even know how Liam found out. He just...he saw me crying. He saw the test in the bin."

"And he decided to play the hero," Kieran sneered. He punched the wall next to my head. The metal groaned. "He wants what's mine. He's always wanted what's mine. And you gave him the perfect weapon."

"I gave him nothing! He was just being kind!"

"Kindness is a lie in this family, Aria. He's using you to get to me."

The elevator chimed. We were at the penthouse. The doors opened, and he didn't give me a chance to breathe. He grabbed me again, marching me through the marble foyer and down the long hallway toward the master suite.

"You're staying here," he barked.

"Kieran, please, let's just talk."

"Talk? The talking is done." He shoved me into the bedroom. "You're staying in this room until the wedding. I don't care if you scream. I don't care if you cry. You aren't leaving."

The door slammed shut. I heard the distinct click of the electronic lock.

I was alone. I stood in the center of the plush rug, my breath coming in jagged gasps. The room smelled like him; sandalwood and arrogance. My stomach gave a violent, sickening lurch. It wasn't just the stress anymore. The morning sickness was back with a vengeance.

I ran for the ensuite.

I barely made it to the marble toilet before I was retching. I stayed there on my knees, my fingers clutching the cold rim, as everything I'd eaten for the last twenty-four hours came back up. I felt hollow. I felt like a shell of a human being. The sensory detail of the cold tile against my knees and the acidic burn in my throat made the world feel too sharp.

"I can't do this," I whispered into the bowl. "I can't."

I stood up slowly, my head spinning. I washed my face with cold water, staring at my reflection. My eyes were bloodshot. My skin was pale and dull. I looked like a ghost haunting a billionaire's palace.

I walked back into the bedroom and saw my phone on the nightstand. It was buzzing.

My heart hammered. Was it Liam? Was he okay?

I lunged for the device. It wasn't a call. It was a text from an unknown number. No contact name. No photo. Just a string of digits and a message that made the floor feel like it was disappearing.

He's lying. Baby isn't his. -L

I stared at the screen. The letters blurred. L.

Lila?

No. Lila was dead. Kieran told me she died in the car crash. He carried the guilt of her death every single day. He looked at her picture when he thought no one was watching. But the message was there. Bold. Cruel.

Baby isn't his.

If the baby wasn't Kieran's, and I knew I hadn't been with anyone else...what was this? Was it a prank? Was it the press?

The door handle rattled violently.

I didn't have time to hide the phone. Kieran kicked the door open. The wood groaned as it hit the stopper. He marched in, his eyes scanning the room like he was looking for a ghost. He saw the phone in my hand. He saw the look on my face.

"Who are you talking to?" he demanded.

"No one! It's just...it's nothing."

"Give it to me."

"No!"

He was across the room in two strides. He didn't even struggle to take it from me; he just plucked it out of my shaking fingers. He looked at the screen.

His entire body went rigid. The color drained from his face until he was as white as the marble in the bathroom. He looked like he'd been struck by lightning. The rage from the elevator was gone, replaced by something much more terrifying. A cold, silent mania.

"Where did you get this?" he whispered. His voice was a thin wire about to snap.

"I don't know! It just popped up! Kieran, who is L? Is it Lila? Is she alive?"

"Shut up!" he roared.

He threw the phone against the wall. The screen shattered into a web of glass, the light flickering out. He turned on me, his face twisted into a mask of pure agony and fury.

"You're working with them," he hissed. "You're part of it. The gala. The drugs. Now this. You're trying to finish what she started."

"I don't even know what she started! I'm a maid, Kieran! I was cleaning your floors a week ago!"

"You're a liar!"

He lunged forward. I tried to protect myself from getting hit, but he was too fast. He grabbed me by the front of my shirt and slammed me back against the heavy bedroom door. The impact rattled my teeth.

He didn't hit me. He wouldn't. But he pinned me there, his hand moving up to grip my throat. He wasn't squeezing; I could still breathe, but the pressure was firm. It was a threat. His thumb rested over my pulse, and I knew he could feel how fast my heart was thudding.

"The night of the gala," he growled, his face inches from mine. I could see the tiny gold flecks in his eyes, spinning like a storm. "I was drugged. You were there. Liam was there. And Lila...Lila was everywhere."

"Kieran, you're hurting me," I whimpered.

"Who sent that text, Aria?" He leaned in, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. "Who is using you to get inside my head? Is it my brother? Is he 'L' now? Is this a game the two of you are playing to drive me insane?"

"I don't know! I swear on my life, I don't know!"

"You're lying," he said, his grip tightening just a fraction. "Everyone lies. My parents. My brother. My fiancée. And now you."

"I'm carrying your child!" I screamed at him.

He froze. He looked down at my stomach, then back at my eyes. For a second, I thought I saw a flash of the man who had held me in the dark six weeks ago. The man who had whispered that I was beautiful.

But then the ice came back.

"Are you?" he asked. "Or is that the biggest lie of all?"

"I wouldn't lie about this," I sobbed. "I have nowhere else to go. I have nothing."

"You have a marriage contract," he reminded me. "You have a seat at the Storm table. That's plenty of reasons to lie."

He leaned his forehead against mine. I could feel the heat radiating off him. He was vibrating with tension. The room felt smaller. The air felt heavier. I could hear the clock ticking on the nightstand. Every second felt like a year.

"I'm going to find out," he whispered. "I'm going to find out who is sending you messages. I'm going to find out whose blood is in your veins. And if I find out you've been playing me..."

"What?" I challenged, my voice trembling. "What will you do?"

He didn't answer. He just looked at me. His hand stayed on my throat, a warm, terrifying weight. He looked at my lips, and for a horrible, confusing second, I thought he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to. I wanted to bite him. I wanted to scream.

"Who is L?" he asked again, his voice cracking. He sounded like a man drowning. "Say the name, Aria. Say the name. Now."