Culmination (Clandestine Affairs, #3) Read online

  Culmination

  Copyright © 2020 Tessa Teevan

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Cover Designer: Robin Harper of Wicked by Design

  Editor: Mickey Reed

  Formatter: Champagne Book Design

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Other Books

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Explosive

  Ignite

  Incinerate

  Intoxicate

  Fusion

  The Wellingtons

  Combust

  Conflagration

  Conflict

  Promise in Prose

  Words I Couldn’t Say

  Clandestine Affairs

  Instigation

  Escalation

  Culmination

  Sweet Southern

  Sweet Southern Sorrow

  THAT DAY IN THE coffee shop never should have happened. Coming close to Gabriella, meeting her in person for the first time. None of it had been part of the plan. She had not been part of the plan. I was only supposed to watch from afar, my eyes the only part of me with permission to seek her out. It wasn’t enough. Everything about her had drawn me in like a moth to the brightest flame.

  It’d been that way for months, ever since I’d first laid eyes on her at her parents’ funeral. For the first time in my life, I felt empathy. I felt someone else’s pain. It was foreign, unfamiliar, and I knew I’d have to keep my distance or I could not be held responsible for my actions.

  It worked.

  Until it didn’t.

  I’d never ventured into the coffee shop before that day. The Daily Grind. Puns in company names made my teeth hurt, and on principle, I wouldn’t patron such a place. Instead, I’d park across the street, watching her through the window. She came to this same spot every day on her lunch break from her menial job. Always alone. No one ever approached her, a surprise in the beginning.

  After all, with her chestnut hair, delicate and fair skin, and big, rounded chocolate eyes, Gabriella Latham turned heads.

  It only took a day or so for me to find my answer: The woman made herself unapproachable. As if it were a ritual, she always claimed a corner table, facing the window and away from all other customers. She kept her head buried in her computer, headphones typically in each ear, her pretty head bobbing to whatever music she enjoyed. And she didn’t remove the headphones until she was in her car. The only person she ever spoke to was the barista when placing her order.

  Day after day, I watched. I waited. And with each day that passed, the more I longed to hear her voice. See her eyes up close. Run my fingers along smooth, pale skin.

  Until the day I could take it no longer. I couldn’t merely watch. I needed to be an active participant in the game she had no idea we were playing.

  The moment I first spoke to her, she rewarded me with large, expressive brown eyes. The way she drew her eyebrows together in confusion was endearing. Her cheeks flushed with a pink tint, and then those eyes shamelessly traveled the length of me.

  Gabriella was checking me out. And she liked what she saw.

  The rest, as they say, is history.

  I threw out the invitation to meet that night, not expecting her to show up. By God, did she show up. She was seduction in blue silk, the material hugging every inch of the delectable curves she typically kept hidden. The skirt rode high up creamy thighs I found myself desperate to get between.

  Gabriella’s devastatingly, gorgeous looks made her alluring, indeed. Yet it was her shy grin, the way she nervously nibbled on the side of her lower lip as I made my way to her, that ultimately caused my cock to awaken.

  The intention of taking her home crossed my mind, which I tossed away. She’s not that kind of girl, I told myself. So imagine my surprise when Gabriella proved me wrong. The first of many times she’d do so over the next couple of years. I found it adorable. Like our own little cat-and-mouse game. One she’d never win. One she’d never give up.

  I didn’t make love to Gabriella that night. I didn’t fuck her.

  I took her. Consumed. Possessed. Devoured.

  Owned.

  I marked her. I made her mine. No longer would she be alone in this world. The one person she would have was me.

  She would be mine—only mine.

  And for two years, she was.

  I kept her under my protection, far from Father’s grasp, much to his great dismay.

  He wanted her gone.

  I simply wanted her.

  The fool believed my insistence that she was a means to an end. Always one to believe in the adage keep your friends close and your enemies closer, the old man approved of my change in tactics.

  For two years, Gabriella was mine and no one else’s. I basked in her utter devotion, savored her beholden affection, and fell in love to depths I’d been unaware I possessed.

  She was my life.

  She was my future.

  She was my everything.

  I’d been lying to myself. I didn’t own Gabriella. She owned me.

  It was the most terrifying realization.

  And the most thrilling.

  I’d been ready to give my life for her. To leave everything I’d known behind me, if only to keep her safe and start life anew, far away from my father’s shadow.

  Until he got impatient.

  Until he called me away.

  Until she threatened to leave.

  I thought I’d made my mark on her.

  I thought I’d convinced her in the only way I knew how.

  Once again, however, my beautiful little lamb proved me wrong.

  For the last time.

  Or so I thought.

  I’d never lost before. Certainly not to another man. How was one to cope? How was one to think clearly when the love of his life had undoubtedly been brainwashed by an imposter, a plant, a pretender?

  Kidnap her.

  Get her to listen to reason.

  Most importantly, whisk her away from the edge of danger she was so precariously close to, even if she was unaware.

  I got her out. We were on our way to safety. All I had to do was make it to the airport where we’d meet our plane to take us far away. Once we were in the air, I planned to explain everything. I just needed time.

  Time I, apparently, was not going to be granted.

  The police cruiser came out of nowhere, and I swerved, narrowly avoiding a disastrous collision. Panic rushed in, causing me to over
correct into the opposite lane. I barely had time to hit the brakes before I realized what fate we were about to meet.

  And when the car veered off that bridge, my life flashed before my eyes. Gabriella’s life. From the moment I’d first seen her to when I’d watched my bodyguard stick the needle into her neck and every damn second in between. I saw it all and it wasn’t enough.

  I wanted more.

  Whether I lived or died was of no consequence. Losing Gabriella, however, was out of the question.

  As the car sank, I had to make a life-altering decision: stay and risk getting caught or go and risk Gabriella’s life.

  How could I leave?

  How could I stay?

  The shouts of arriving police officers already making their way down to the water made my decision for me. They would save her. They had to.

  If I was caught…

  She’d be doomed.

  I swam to the opposite shore and hightailed it out of there before anyone was the wiser.

  So here I am, like those years before, watching this beautiful creature from afar. My hands aching for her touch. My heart clenching for her love. Need coursing through me violently as I fight dominant urges to go to her. To wipe her tears. To scoop her into my arms and vow never to let her ago. Never again.

  One foot moves forward on its own volition. My heartbeat intensifies like a high-speed train racing across its tracks, eager to get to its final destination. I stop myself, continuing to watch.

  And then I spy a single tear spilling out onto her cheek and I lose all sense of mind.

  I can take it no more. No longer can I be a shadow in the dark. No longer can I remain at arm’s distance. No longer will I watch this beautiful, fragile being from afar. My delicate, vulnerable girl. She’s been the only vision in my sights for so long, and I cannot believe I lost her. I cannot bear the fact that she is no longer mine. I cannot—will not—give up on her. On us. On our love. I must show her, prove to her, I’m still the man she fell in love with. The man who rescued her from loneliness. From grief. The one she is meant to spend the rest of her life loving.

  Not him. Never him.

  I have to get to her.

  Gabriella Latham’s life is about to be turned on its axis.

  And she has no idea just how skewed it’s already become.

  Only one man can save her…

  Me.

  I STRETCH MY ARMS out wide and immediately go stock-still at the feel of crisp sheets—the bed is empty next to me. My eyes pop open, and I hastily rise, glancing around, listening for any indication Rafe’s still here.

  Nothing.

  No sounds of the shower running, the toilet flushing, or teeth brushing.

  Instead, echoes of the eerie silence that greets me let me know Rafe’s no longer in our hotel room.

  My eyes scan the room until they fall to his side of the bed. A folded sheet of hotel paper sits on the nightstand next to the bed, and I reach across the mattress to grab it. Then I quickly unfold it, scouring the contents of his message.

  A smile softly forms on my face as I reread the words once again. He’s the sweetest man I’ve ever known, and I’m aware that, as my pregnancy progresses, he’ll continue to dote on me.

  However, it’s infuriating, especially at times like these. Whatever lead he’s chasing down, I want to be a part of it. I’d rather be with him, discovering what my father was into with the Morningstars. Instead, I’m expected to stay here and indulge?

  Perfect.

  And quite unlikely.

  With a heavy sigh, I set the note aside and push the covers off in order to get ready for the day, hoping I won’t be cooped up for too long. I take my time in the bath, and even longer to dry and style my hair. Once I’m all primped and prepped for a day of apparently nothing, I lounge on the bed and commence channel surfing, but after a short while of finding nothing that catches my interest, I find myself getting antsy.

  For what feels like hours, I pace the room, anxious and impatient for his return. Rafe doesn’t answer his phone when I break down and call him, and he doesn’t respond to any of my text messages. I wonder what he could be doing. After the fifth unanswered call, I decide I can no longer sit in this hotel room alone.

  There’s something I want to do—something I have to do.

  This may be my only chance.

  I know exactly where I want to go.

  After pulling on my boots and my jacket, I scribble out my own note and then leave the hotel room. Trepidation courses through my blood, my heart hammers as I step outside into the hall, but I push my fears away, knowing I have to do this—and I have to do it alone.

  Still, I breathe a sigh of relief when I’m closing the taxi door and we pull away from the hotel, off to my destination.

  My nerves flutter the closer we get, yet I’m also more confident that I’ve made the right the decision to come here. It’s something I need for my own sanity, my own peace of mind, even if only for a few moments. I’m going to the one place where I know solace. The one place where my grief both cocoons me and eases the pain of my loss.

  For the first time since I laid them to rest, I’m visiting my parents. With everything that’s happened, I need to be close to them. To feel their close presence, even if it’s just an illusion.

  After I exit the cab, I’m stuck in place as I take in my surroundings. I immediately wonder… What if I’d died? What if Adrian had succeeded? Would Rafe have buried me here, alongside them, the entire Latham family in their final resting places? All four of us?

  I shake the morbid thought from my head and make a mental note to bring Rafe here once everything settles. Even though he knew my father, something I still haven’t entirely wrapped my mind around, I want him to know what they meant to me. How he’s the only thing that saved me from being there beside them right now. How, before him, I’d almost entertained the thought of joining them before fate planned.

  Not wanting to stall any longer, I force myself forward, passing through the high arch that serves as an entrance. I’m not sure if it’s the venue or the slight chill in the air, but I’m almost instantly shivering. I pull my jacket tighter around me and continue on. The leaves are crinkly and dry, crunching underneath my boots as I walk towards my parents’ graves. It’s the only sound filling the air around me, and the break in the silence is strangely soothing. Each crinkle, each crunch leads me closer to them. Closer to peace.

  God, how had I been away from here for so long? On the other hand, why would I want to come?

  I stroll through the cemetery, surveying each of the various headstones as I pass them. My mind wanders, reading each name and date. What were their stories? Who are the loved ones who bring fresh flowers, grieving and paying respects?

  Is it therapeutic to come to this place where our loved ones are buried in boxes, nothing but decaying matter and dusty bones? Or are we torturing ourselves with these kinds of rituals? And how long are we, those filled with despair, meant to continue such a morose tradition? My thoughts turn macabre.

  Do I need the glaring tombstone with the names of my parents as finite proof that they’re gone? Will it really dull the pain? Or will it be the opposite? Will being here give me a sense of peace? They may be nothing but ashes and dust, but wherever they are, I can have faith they’re together. And maybe, just maybe, as their final resting place, it’s also a place where they can return, if only in spirit.

  I’m completely unprepared when I’m finally standing before their tombstones. My breath catches and my eyes burn with tears that spill like buckets, hitting my cheeks, stinging and relentless. Tiny pinpricks of pain swiftly turn into javelin thrusts, running me dead on in the center of my heart. The intensity of the pain has my knees buckling, which transports me back to the day they were buried here. It was the worst day of my life—second only to when I discovered their bodies.

  And Adrian had been watching me the whole time.

  I shudder at the thought and force all memory of him from
my mind. This is neither the time nor the place.

  Still, I can’t help but wonder. Why me? Why them?

  I kneel on the grass between their stones and fold my legs beneath me, tracing both of their names. Andrew and Olivia Latham. Loving Husband, Loving Father. Loving Wife, Loving Mother.

  Yes, I firmly believe that my parents are together, somewhere out there, and just like that song from my favorite childhood movie about a lost mouse, one day, we’ll find each other again. Maybe not in this life, but in the next. Until then, I’m at peace knowing they’re not alone; and hopefully, wherever they are, they’ll know the same of me.

  “I don’t know where to start,” I say, feeling a bit silly talking to the chilly air. My voice trembles, and tears still stream down my cheeks, cold and wet, but I push through the pain. “I miss you both. On the best days, it hurts to smile, only just a little, but on the worst days, it’s excruciating. Nearly unbearable. I have no idea how I’ve gotten through the past few years without you.”

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know it’s a lie. I know exactly how I’ve coped.

  First with Adrian, and then with Rafe. They’re how I’ve gotten through. And I realize, as much as I want to despise the memory of Adrian, I owe him a great deal. Because even if he had his ulterior motives, whatever they might have been, I genuinely believe deep down he cared for me. In whatever way he could. And even if I’m just fooling myself, if he didn’t have any emotional attachment to me, he at least gave me the illusion of it. The illusion that, in my darkest time, I was no longer alone was a blessing.

  Or, at least, it had been for a while. Until it turned into a curse.

  “So much has happened and I can’t even make sense of most of it.” I pause then suck in a deep breath before exhaling. “I…I met a man. It’s been a crazy whirlwind, but I love him. It turns out you even know him, Daddy. Small world, huh?”

  I laugh softly through the relentless tears. “Rafe’s keeping the promise he made you. He’s kept me safe, and I’ve never felt more cherished or loved in my life. In fact, he saved my life. He saved me.”