Hold Me Read online

  Hold Me

  Love The Way You Book 2

  W Winters

  Amelia Wilde

  Contents

  Hold Me

  Playlist

  Prologue

  1. Ella

  2. Zander

  3. Ella

  4. Zander

  5. Ella

  6. Zander

  7. Ella

  8. Zander

  9. Ella

  10. Zander

  11. Ella

  12. Zander

  13. Ella

  14. Zander

  15. Ella

  16. Zander

  17. Ella

  18. Zander

  19. Ella

  20. Zander

  21. Ella

  22. Zander

  23. Ella

  24. Zander

  Also by W Winters

  About W Winters

  Connect with Amelia Wilde

  Hold Me

  Hold Me

  Book 2 of the Love the Way series

  * * *

  By W Winters and Amelia Wilde

  I was born into luxury and used to getting what I wanted.

  What I desired most, with my life in disarray, was the man who sat across from me.

  He was tall, dark and handsome. Most notably, he was forbidden.

  * * *

  It made every accidental touch more sinful and every court-mandated session more addictive.

  * * *

  So much tragedy had happened and he was supposed to fix me.

  I shouldn’t have wondered how it would feel to be trapped under his broad shoulders.

  I shouldn’t have focused on the way he licked his bottom lip every time his gaze dropped from mine and roamed my curves.

  I shouldn’t have dreamed about him breaking the rules to comfort me the way I desperately needed.

  * * *

  I did, though, and I was the first one to submit.

  * * *

  He was my protector and my confidant, and then he became my lover.

  I teased him, tempted the two of us and now there’s no way to take it back.

  With everything I’ve been through, I didn’t expect to fall for him.

  There’s only so much heartache I can take.

  Playlist

  Little Do You Know – Alex & Sierra

  Me and My Broken Heart - Rixton

  Mercy - Brett Young

  Renegades - X Ambassadors

  Ho Hey - The Lumineers

  Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men

  All Your Exes - Julia Michaels

  Without Me - Halsey

  Overwhelmed - Royal & the Serpent

  Love is never wasted, for its value does not rest upon reciprocity.

  – C. S. Lewis

  Prologue

  Zander

  * * *

  Distracted and rattled, the world outside blurs by until it resembles a seemingly fake movie set. With the driver side window down and the wheels spinning against the asphalt highway, I’m barely conscious of anything at all. Other than her. My Ella.

  None of this seems real. I can’t help but to think that this can’t be happening. My heated palms twist against the leather steering wheel as my fingertips go numb and that sinking feeling settles in my gut. It’s as if I could punch the fronts of the buildings and they’d fall down, one by one, until the whole town was leveled. It all must be fake. It can’t be real.

  With last night’s darkness behind me, a pale pink hue settles along the horizon.

  The sun’s coming up, but it’s a cruel joke now that they’ve made the decision to separate the two of us. I’ve spent the last three weeks of my life anxiously waiting for the sun to set so I could go back to her. Now I’m caught in a morning I don’t want, driving on autopilot back to a motel I know won’t aid in giving me rest. Barely seeing the road.

  It’s not the first time I’ve felt like this. It’s like being forced into the past. It feels as though I’m being forced into another horrific incident that would keep me up at night.

  Blinking away the memories, I slow as I come to a yellow light, my gaze flicking to the rearview and I spot Damon, still behind me. Swallowing thickly, I remind myself that I can never go back. It’s not possible and even if I could, I might not be able to change a damn thing.

  There are things we can control and things we can’t. The horrible losses we suffer—at times—come from our own actions.

  Last night, I slept with Ella. Thoughts of last night flash before my eyes, images of her beauty stealing my breath, and remembering her soft moan of my name heats my chilled blood. It was against the rules. It was against everything we stand for at The Firm.

  I lost control.

  Something about her makes me want to lose control. It makes me need to lose control. I want to lose myself in her and come out the other side a different man. Smirking sardonically, I breathe out heavily and move past the green light as my blinker ticks, ticks, ticks away the thought. It’s all another cruel joke from the asshole that is the universe. I’m different now, and I hate this person. I’m running to get away from this morning and the memories of that other morning. Both of them push forward in my mind, tangling up with one another.

  A sickness pulls the corners of my lips down as I remember the past I wish I could forget. A past that made me this weakened version of myself.

  * * *

  Bang! There’s a loud knock at my apartment door that calls for my attention. Bang, bang, bang. Another three in a row.

  “You want me to open it?” Damon’s eyes hid the worry he felt as equally as the exhaustion. We’d been up all night at my place. Waiting for her after searching everywhere and calling everyone.

  “Mr. Thompson, it’s the police.” The deep voice echoes in my mind in a way I know I’ll always remember.

  The leather sofa groans as Damon makes a move to stand. “I’ll get it,” he tells me as I stare blankly at the front door, a sick feeling running rampant through me. The cops don’t show up at anyone’s apartment this early in the morning unless something fucking terrible has happened.

  It hadn’t been twenty-four hours, so I couldn’t make a missing persons report. The second I heard that knock and the officer’s voice, I knew there would be no report. I knew there would be no search. I knew that much, and still, I didn’t want it to be real.

  My throat’s dry as I turn down the street I’ve taken for the last three weeks with nothing but anticipation to see Ella. My distraction, my drug, my submissive and … more. Something that’s hard to place. Something I don’t dare look into, for fear of the depths of its meaning.

  I didn’t hear a damn thing they said that day two years ago. I was too focused on how numb I felt and how it couldn’t be real. How much my heart hurt, even though the rest of me was detached and unfeeling. When the guilt hit, it hit like a sledgehammer. Afterward Damon had to repeat everything they’d said. He was the one who told me about the mugging. About her murder. About what happened to Quincy.

  I’ll never forget our conversation after she told me to give her space on that street corner.

  * * *

  “I want to be with you.” Quincy’s blue eyes shone with tears, but she didn’t let them fall. She stood her ground on the concrete and looked up at me with her arms folded over her chest. “I want more.”

  My response was short and immediate. “That’s not where I am.” The words seemed inadequate, and they were.

  “But someday—”

  “It’s not going to happen.” I thought she’d appreciate honesty. After all, it wasn’t her fault. I didn’t want more and I didn’t know if I ever would. But her eyes fluttered shut for a brief second, the pain setting in, and when she opened her eyes they were cold.

  “I’m going for a walk.” The iron chair grated against the sidewalk, the streetlights outside the bar providing nearly all the illumination in the late night. I’ll never forget how they cast shadows down her face. She would be in tears within minutes. I knew it and I hated myself for it.

  “I’ll walk you. You don’t have to say anything to me.”

  She held up a hand. “I need space, Zander. If you don’t want to be close to me, then I need space. Don’t follow me. If you don’t want all of me, then I don’t want any of you.”

  I didn’t follow her. I had another beer, the cool summer breeze and the guilt keeping me there, wondering if she’d turn around. She didn’t. After forty minutes, I left, figuring she’d gone home and hoping I’d find her there. The thing I dreaded as I walked was the thought of her packing up her things. Even knowing I couldn’t give her everything she wanted, I didn’t want to lose her.

  I waited for her to show. We’d fight about it, I thought. We’d argue, and she’d make her case, and I’d make mine. I didn’t love her like she did me. I didn’t want a fairy-tale wedding and children. I wanted what we had and I would be happy to stay there, like we were, for as long as she wanted.

  Three hours into the darkest part of the night, I started calling her and then two more hours slipped by. The digital clock of the cable box barely moved as time crept by and I was met with voicemail after voicemail. Every place was closed by 3:00 a.m. There was no reason for her to be out that late. She never answered. Then I called her friends, her mother. I called anywhere and everywhere I could think. Damon and I went out to look for her and came up with nothing. We came up with nothing because by the time we were looking for her, Quincy was already dead.

  A car honks loudly behind me. Through
blurry vision I move my gaze from the rearview that features a line of cars behind me, to the green light above me. Easing on the gas, I bring myself back to the present.

  Back to Ella. To them trying to take her away from me. And keeping me from her.

  Unacceptable.

  The fact they took her doesn’t change the way I feel for her or what either of us wants. It doesn’t change a damn thing, except my standing with The Firm. And perhaps The Firm will take a hit to its reputation … but that pales in comparison to what Ella and I stand to lose.

  Part of the reason I let Quincy walk away from me that night was because I was too much of a coward to have the real conversation. The one that would end with her moving out, deleting my number from her phone and never speaking to me again. I was trying to honor her wishes for space, but in truth I was acting like a fucking coward because that conversation had been long overdue.

  I can’t honor anything for Ella, because I don’t know what she wants now that they all know.

  I don’t know if she’s imagining I’ve abandoned her, or that I slept with her and never looked back. I don’t know a damn thing and that’s also un-fucking-acceptable.

  What kind of man would I be if I went back to the motel and left it at that? If I let men who aren’t part of our relationship decide it was over because of my professional obligations? What kind of coward would I be?

  I jerk the wheel to the right at the next intersection, my mind racing. My blood pumps hard in my veins. This isn’t that night with Quincy. This is a different morning. A far more complicated relationship. I didn’t know what I wanted with Quincy. I have to be with Ella. That is the only thing I know right now.

  That’s the truth. The one truth that keeps me sane.

  In the rearview mirror, I watch Damon’s car come after mine, his tires squealing. He’s swearing in the front seat, his expression pissed, and that anger won’t leave once he finds out what I intend to do. What I have to do.

  If Ella doesn’t have feelings for me or if she doesn’t see any need for me at all, then I’ll leave her be. I’ll let her go on with her life. I’ll step back and allow her the space to get well. I’ll never bother her again.

  But I’m not going to take anyone else’s word for it or allow them to make that decision for her. My heart slams against my rib cage over and over and over. Her manager and the rest of The Firm can claim she doesn’t want to see me all they want. I’ll believe it when she tells me and not a moment before.

  They’ll have taken her to one of the properties The Firm hires out in conjunction with every client. We always have a backup safe location in case the need arises. It’s typically nondescript. Meant to keep from drawing attention. We still followed this protocol even though Ella is a custodial client and not someone needing strictly personal protection services.

  It’s a few miles from here. Not far although I’ve driven a good distance in the opposite direction.

  Another sharp right and I’m heading in the right direction. Damon honks behind me. He’ll know where I’m going. He doesn’t have any choice in the matter unless he decides to crash his car into mine. That’s the only way I’ll stop.

  Ella

  This sinking feeling in my chest is one I haven’t felt for a long time. A very long time. I’m not unfamiliar with the sickening churn in my gut or the heaviness that presses down on my shoulders, begging me to cave to it and make myself small.

  After the last year and a half, I’m quite used to its abuse and the screaming that accompanies it in the back of my mind. This particular feeling, though, is one that used to come often as a child. I imagine so many people feel it. All of us, really. The gut instinct that warns a child they’re in trouble. That they’ve done something very wrong and disappointed the ones they love.

  The memory of my father’s dark eyes narrowing as I stood there, my fingertips fiddling with the hem of my shirt or my sleeve, forces me to swallow although my throat is dry.

  The men surrounding me aren’t my father, but they have authority over me and it’s not until now that I feel both immense regret in this decision and an anxiousness as I question the consequences of my impulsive actions. It’s all too much.

  The expression on each of the men who sit across from me tells me disappointment is only one of several emotions. Anger, betrayal … Concern. Kamden’s fidgeting, and his readjusting in the simple black mesh office chair next to me makes me even more uncomfortable.

  He’s barely looked at me. None of the men have since I sat down. It’s eerily quiet and the squeak of the wheels rolling as Silas takes a seat next to Cade marks the first noise I’ve heard apart from someone clearing their throat.

  I woke up expecting to find Zander, but his shift had ended and instead Silas waited for me downstairs. He was polite but firm that I should dress quickly. Silas was my driver to this less than appealing meeting.

  He’s been vague and his tone far less pleasant than it typically is.

  My heart may be rampaging, beating against the cage that contains it, but I endeavor to keep my shoulders squared and my expression emotionless, neither positive nor negative. Even if every man in this room wears a stone-cold expression to match the dark gray of their power suits.

  I could have worn black for mourning and to reflect this deep-seated emotion that brews inside of me, but that’s uninspiring so I opted for a dark red silk blouse and high-waisted skinny jeans. Red is a color of confidence.

  “What’s this about?” I question and my gaze is drawn to Cade’s throat, the cords of it tightening before my eyes travel back up and he offers me a tight smile.

  “It’s about your relationship with Zander.” Kamden’s voice is low, cautious even. There’s a ping that runs through me. It’s sharp, like swallowing a thorn, and keeps me from answering immediately. That churning in my gut intensifies as I meet Kamden’s gaze and then Cade’s. It’s a horrid feeling that, in this particular moment, can fuck right off.

  “What of it?” I reply in a harsher tone than I’d have liked. I’ve never desired to be a “bitch” so to speak, although I hate that word. I might not be a fighter and I might hate confrontation, but that doesn’t mean for one second that I can’t defend myself. A side of me that I haven’t felt for years returns.

  In the silence, I question again, “What of it?” Cade recovers quickly, but I don’t miss the shock in his dilated pupils.

  The man himself looks worn thin. Bags under his eyes match those of Kamden’s, if I’m honest. Silas focuses on his clasped hands in front of him, not reacting at all to anything. If I could read minds, I’d wager a bet he’d rather be anywhere other than here.

  With a heat simmering along my shoulders, I wait for any of them to speak. Kamden repositions in his seat yet again and then places his hand over mine. I don’t react to the contact; instead I stare at a dull painting of black and gray smears that’s hung on the wall behind Cade as Kamden speaks. It’s a modern piece that would fade into any room. Surely it’s only meant to take up space.

  Clearing his throat, it’s obvious that Kamden is the one who will initiate this conversation. “Mr. Thompson crossed a line,” Kamden starts and that brief sentence grants him my full attention.

  My expression hardens and I can’t help it. I’m quick to rip my hand away from under his. My bottom lip trembles as betrayal overrides every other emotion. I desperately wish I could control myself more in this moment and not allow the shock and despair to show at all because I know emotion doesn’t work with men. In this room, I’m the one who lacks any power at all. My guardians and conservator have all the power they want over me, yet I can’t help but scoff, “He crossed a line?” In that instant, under Kamden’s unwavering expression of concern, I consider, for a moment, that Zander’s done with me.