Shadow Lover (Siren Publishing Allure) Read online

  “He doesn’t mean it, Chyna, it’s his pain speaking. My God, you didn’t think this was going to be a walk in the park, did you?”

  “No, of course not, but just when I make a little headway, Quinn comes along and destroys everything I’ve built.”

  “I know Quinn is a problem, and Kirk is stubborn, but he cares, Chyna. I know he does. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t fight it so.”

  “It won’t do any good, Elaine. Quinn will see to that. No matter what I do, he’ll just follow up with a bunch of lies and Kirk will believe him.”

  Elaine agonized. “Well, it’s hard for him not to believe Quinn. They’re brothers, after all.”

  “Yes, I know,” she said sadly. “Quinn has the advantage, and he knows it.” She looked at Elaine. “Would you just do one more thing for me?”

  “You know I will.”

  “Lend me some luggage. I don’t have much. I think one bag might handle it.

  "Oh, Chyna, I wish you’d stay.”

  Chyna took Elaine’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s better this way, Elaine. I’ll get the luggage back to you as soon as I can.”

  “All right,” Elaine said. “But now you have to do me a favor.”

  “If I can.”

  “I'm giving a dinner party Friday night. I’ve invited Dr. Wilder and told him about you. Would you at least stay long enough to meet him? He’s looking forward to it.”

  Chyna smiled. “Of course. I guess I could do that.”

  Elaine laughed softly. “Gosh, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you're so beautiful, you're going to make me look like Apple Annie."

  Chyna frowned. "My God, Elaine, doesn't anyone in this house realize their worth? Don't you know what a beautiful, woman you are?"

  “Chyna,” Elaine said shyly, lowering her lids while a bashful grin played along her lips. “You don’t have to say that."

  “I mean it. My advice to you is to look in a mirror once in a while."

  Elaine lifted her hand and felt her face as if she had just discovered it.

  "In fact, and I hesitate to say the word book since it’s come to be such a dirty word in this house, but I've considered using you as a character in one of my novels." Chyna looked at her with a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. "You know, as the dark and mysterious heroine?"

  Elaine’s eyes widened. "You can't mean it."

  "Of course, I mean it. Elaine, do you remember when we saw each other at City Lights a while back?"

  "Sure."

  "When I saw you with Quinn, I thought you were his beautiful fiancée. Let me tell you, I was so jealous. Later when Kirk brought me in from Cat's Paw and I met you again, my heart sank because I thought you were Quinn's wife. When I finally found out that you were his sister I wanted to shout hallelujah,” she chuckled, “and almost did."

  Elaine frowned. "Then you were attracted to Quinn.”

  "Sure, but that was before."

  "Before what?"

  "Before I got to know him. Before I found out what an arrogant ass he is, and how he treats Kirk."

  "Are you still attracted to him?"

  "Only physically. I mean, it would be pretty hard not to be. He's so handsome, and…well, you know, such a sexy devil."

  Elaine tried not to smile when she looked beyond Chyna to Quinn who was standing at the door and had heard everything.

  Chyna turned when she saw Elaine's eyes looking behind her. The husky frame of Quinn Grayson stood there, his lips turned up in a knowing grin. She jerked herself back around and glared at Elaine. "How long has he been there?"

  Quinn folded his arms across his chest and smirked. “You can speak to me, Chyna. I heard everything from hallelujah to sexy devil."

  A look of anger made her eyes flash as she looked at Elaine. "I thought you were my friend. You could have warned me." Jumping up from the table she lowered her head and ran past Quinn with a red face.

  When Chyna got up to her room she had angry tears in her eyes. She sat for a moment trying to get control of herself and just happened to glance up at a writing tablet on the shelf of her closet. Feeling betrayed, a rebellious thought came into her head.

  What the hell am I? she asked herself. I’m a goddamned writer, that’s what I am, and if they don’t like it they can damn well lump it!

  She jumped up and went over to the closet and pulled it down, then looked through the drawers of the night table and found a stubby looking pencil that would have to do. Sitting on the bed, she thought about Kirk, the basement, and how many times she had seen him lurking around the mansion in shadows. If she could just get all that down on paper, she would have a story that would be unlike anything she had ever written. She was becoming excited just thinking about it, and her pencil began it’s furious scratching across the page.

  If she hadn’t learned anything else since she had become a writer she had learned that if she can’t get excited writing her book, no one was going to get excited about reading it. Many times she had started a book but the excitement just wouldn’t kick in and she would have to abandon it until she found a plot that not only excited her, but one that literally burned her fingers until she got it down on paper. That’s how she knew when she had a bestseller. And judging from the way her adrenaline was pumping now, not only would this be a bestseller—it would be a blockbuster.

  Before she knew it, she had filled several pages, bringing her up to date. She’d written down only the bones, but when she had access to a computer again she would flesh it out—perfecting it—making it sing. She stopped for a moment, reading over what she had written when a knock sounded on her door. She looked down at the scribbled words, and a guilty feeling came over her. She looked around for a place to hide it, then quickly leaned over and pushed it under the bed and out of sight. She sat back up abruptly, then shifted her eyes down alongside the bed to make sure it couldn't be seen. "Come in," she called out.

  Elaine opened the door and stepped in hesitantly.

  When Chyna saw her, she lowered her lids and was silent, stiff and unsmiling.

  Feeling a bit timid, Elaine walked over and gingerly sat on the bed, looking at Chyna with a weak smile. "I just wanted to come up and apologize. Really, Chyna, when we began talking, I had no idea it was going in the direction it did. Then before I knew it you were saying things I knew you wouldn't want Quinn to hear, but by that time it was too late. It just happened. I don't know why. I'm so sorry, please forgive me."

  Chyna smiled. "I understand. The problem is not you. It's me and my big mouth. I didn't give you much of a chance to say anything. I was determined to make you feel better about yourself, so I just kept on talking."

  Elaine looked at her timidly. "I hate to ask, but, will you help me with my hair?"

  "Sure,” Chyna said. “Your makeup too, if you want."

  They sat at Chyna's mirror all evening, applying makeup, trying different hairdos, and even looking into Chyna's closet for something Elaine could wear. When they had done all they could, Elaine stared in the mirror at herself.

  "You know, I'm no Chyna Marsh, but I'm not bad looking."

  "Sure. You're a knockout, Elaine. Just pay a little more attention to yourself and you can have any man you want."

  As soon as Elaine left, Chyna pulled out her tablet again and continued writing. Suddenly a thought came to her. She looked up at the closed door Elaine had left through and remembered what she had said to her about being in one of her novels. Chyna smiled. Little did Elaine know, but the dark, sexy, brunette was going to get her wish. She was going to be one of the major characters in Chyna's next book—in fact they all were!

  * * * *

  When the evening of the dinner party arrived, Chyna was busy getting ready, but not looking forward to it. After hearing her and Elaine’s conversation the other night Quinn’s arrogance seemed to reach an all time high, and he was constantly making obscene suggestions to her. She had been tempted t
o stay in her room rather than face him, but decided she wasn’t going to let that SOB rule her life.

  While carefully applying her makeup in a listless way, again her thoughts went to Kirk. As usual the thought of him caused a deep, raw pain to tear through her stomach, and tears would begin to creep down her cheeks. As her misty eyes darted around the room she knew she had to get away from this place. Everything she looked at reminded her of him. Every stick—every stone—

  Just then she happened to look beyond her reflection to the neglected costume box sitting over in the corner. After what had happened she hadn't even tried to persuade Kirk to wear it. Now, while looking at it, she slowly laid the powder duster down, the pain in her stomach almost more than she could bear. She quickly lowered her head as a fresh batch of tears pushed against her lids. She indulged herself for a few minutes before she glanced down at her watch. Noticing the late hour, she made herself move faster, quickly putting the finishing touches on her makeup and hair. When everything was finally in place, she took a moment and looked at herself in the full length mirror. The blue dinner dress was low cut and draped in front, layering softly against her ample cleavage. The dress was sprinkled with tiny glitter causing it to twinkle with tiny silver sparks. The effect was positively glamorous. Her hair was up in a Gibson Girl with little ringlets at her neck and face, and her trim ankles looked very alluring in the four-inch blue satin heels, and an ankle bracelet.

  When it came time to go down she stepped out of her bedroom and approached the stairs. Coming to the first step, she stopped abruptly. She saw Quinn relaxing against the banister, and looking up at her very arrogantly with his foot propped on the first step. She slowly began descending the wide staircase, aware of his eyes drinking in her every movement.

  When she got to the last step, he moved in front of her, barring her way. Without saying anything she made a move to pass him, but he quickly stepped up, put his hand on her waist and buried his face in her neck. She could feel him begin to draw on her fragrant, steamy flesh, but she remained cold to his touch—unmoved, and smoothly pulled herself away.

  Quinn turned and grabbed her arm, pulling her close to him. She could feel his breath on her ear as he whispered, "Tonight?"

  "You snake,” she rasped, jerking her arm out of his. “You think because of what you heard that I'm going to fall in your arms? Well if I were you I wouldn't hold my breath." Just before turning away from him, she added sarcastically, "Besides, what would Venita think?"

  "Venita be damned," he growled. "I want a woman, not a baby."

  "Well, there are millions out there, you bastard, take your pick."

  The two of them made a grand entrance into the library staring daggers at each other. When Dr. Wilder saw Chyna, he stood up, his eyes almost popping out of his head.

  Quinn took Chyna's arm possessively. "Dr. Wilder, may I present Chyna Marsh?” Turning to Chyna, he said, "Chyna, Dr. Vincent Wilder."

  Chyna searched his handsome, movie star face. His hair was sandy blond, but so light on top it was almost white. With his hair long, he reminded Chyna of a blond musketeer, with the same cavalier manner. All that was missing was the cape and the sword. She could see him swinging from a rafter, rescuing the maiden fair. Elaine had picked well.

  Dr. Wilder extended his hand and took Chyna's, bringing it lightly to his lips. "I've been looking forward to this evening, Ms. Marsh."

  Chyna smiled, noting the strange mixture of blue and green in his eyes. "The pleasure is mine."

  The doctor pulled a card out of his pocket and gave it to Chyna. "Not that you need it, but if you know of someone else in need of my services, this is the address of my office, and my number."

  Chyna looked down at the card and her eyes widened. Summer sparklers, firecrackers, and sky rockets exploded in her head all at the same time. Was it possible? Could she be so lucky? She couldn’t let this pass by. Just once more, she decided. One more time before giving up and leaving for good.

  Quinn spoke up, bringing her back to reality. "Chyna, may I fix you a drink before we go in to dinner?"

  She jerked around and looked at him. "N-No, thank you. Uh…if…if you'll excuse me I have something to take care of before dinner."

  "Of course," the two men said simultaneously. They watched her run out, slightly surprised that she departed their company so quickly.

  Once out of the library, Chyna ran up the stairs to her room. As she quickly opened the door, her eyes found the gray box with the words Stage Door superimposed over two masks, one crying, the other laughing, and grabbed it. Turning around, she took the box and quickly ran back downstairs, then down the cement steps to the basement. When she arrived at the square chamber she looked past the barred door to the darkness that was always there.

  "Kirk, are you in there?"

  No answer, but Chyna could hear him breathing. "Kirk, please answer me. I know you're there."

  Kirk jerked forward on his bed, but he stayed silent. The sound of her voice made his insides jump. He wanted to run to her, to kneel, to ask her forgiveness.

  But he couldn’t.

  He wanted to take her in his arms and beg her not to leave, to cry like a baby.

  But he couldn’t.

  His pride, his fucking pride wouldn’t let him. Even though his insides were churning at the sound of her voice, and he felt a longing deep inside him, he couldn't. Instead he heard the words of love he should be saying coming out completely different. "Go away, Chyna," he rasped.

  "Kirk, I have something for you."

  "Is it the same thing you had for me the last time you were here?"

  "I want to talk to you about that, Kirk."

  He hesitated, wanting to pull her to him, take her in his arms, but still he found his mouth saying words he didn’t want to say. "Why in hell don't you give it up, Chyna? I don't want you down here. Do you hear that? I don't want you!"

  "I can't believe that, Kirk. The way you kissed me, the way you touched me. Oh, Kirk, I don't care about your face. You're the only one that has a problem with it, not me."

  He ran up to the bars so fast, Chyna jumped. "Chyna, don't you see? If I let myself, I would be on my knees to you. I've got to have some pride, dammit, I'm not stupid. With this face, no woman would look at me. It's horrible, we both know that. How could it not turn you away?”

  Chyna reached through the bars, fondling each ragged scar. "Because, Kirk, I know what's behind it. Besides, it's not that bad. I think it can be fixed if you would just try."

  "But what if it can't? It would just be more disappointment."

  "But what if it can? You've wasted ten years of your life in this prison, do you want to waste ten more? Kirk, isn't it worth finding out? At least then you'll know for sure."

  "Yeah," he said sadly, "then I can kill myself and know it's okay."

  "Don't ever talk that way, Kirk."

  Kirk looked down at the box. "What's that?"

  Chyna looked down. "Oh, I almost forgot." Looking up she said, "It's something for you. Would you let me in?"

  He unbolted the door and swung it open for her. She went in and immediately walked over to his bed. Opening the box, she took the mask out and turned to him. "Try this on."

  His eyes widened. "A mask?" He looked down at the whole costume. "You want me to dress up like The Phantom of the Opera?"

  "I couldn't just buy the mask, I had to buy the whole costume, or nothing."

  "You should have settled for nothing, Chyna, there's no way I'm wearing that thing."

  "Kirk, only the mask. You don't have to put the whole thing on."

  Kirk looked down at the mask. "That thing would drive me crazy."

  "You don't have to wear it when you're alone, just when you have to be around other people."

  He looked at it. "Chyna, I don't know."

  "Kirk, it's no different than a man wearing a patch over his eye. Besides, it'll make you look sort of mysterious." She winked. "You know, glamorous."

  "Sure, until I
take it off.”

  “Then don’t take it off, Kirk. Wear it. Don’t you see? This is the answer to your problem.”

  “Are you feeding me a bunch of bull, like Quinn says?"

  "Kirk, the first thing you need to remember is not to listen to Quinn. He's the monster, not you. Now put it on and let's go upstairs."

  "What? Upstairs? What's upstairs?"

  "There's a dinner party going on."

  "No way in hell, Chyna."

  "Kirk, it'll be a test to see how well the mask works both for you and others. Besides, it's only Elaine's boss, Dr. Vincent Wilder."

  "I can't, Chyna."

  "Kirk, try, for God's sake. Don't stay in this musty old dungeon all your life. You'll be pronouncing doom on yourself. If it has to be, let it come from somewhere else. Don't you do it to yourself."

  "I just can't." Kirk said, flinging the mask to the floor and turning his back on her.

  Chyna felt the disappointment plunge like a knife deep into her heart. She felt the tears begin to flow freely and lifted her hands to brush them away. Then looking at his back, she sobbed, "The world is a much nicer place than you think, Kirk. It's too bad you can't give it a chance." She paused, hating to say the words, but forced herself to continue. "While I'm here, I'll say goodbye. I won't bother you again."

  The determination on Kirk’s face vanished. He whirled around, his eyes darting between Chyna walking away from him and the mask that lay on the floor. He could hear the sound of her heels clicking on the cement, their crisp click getting softer and softer until the door clanged shut behind her. It sounded so final—as if the loud clang was sealing him forever in his tomb. He sat down on his bed putting his hands to his ears, but he could still hear the clang of the door over and over again. Clang! Clang! Clang!

  * * * *

  Chyna re-joined those in the parlor. As she stood at the window with tears in her eyes, she once again began making plans to leave. Kirk had made it plain that he was determined to suffer the rest of his life for his parents’ death, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  Quinn had won.