Frankenstein In Love Page 10

  Fresh tears began falling down her cheeks. “But I can’t leave it, it’s mine.”

  “Tiffany, it’s no use. You’re holding onto a memory. What used to be.”

  Tiffany whirled on him. “You bastard. You’re glad my house is gone.”

  “I’m only glad that part of your life is gone. It’s yesterday. You and me, we’re the future.”

  “You’ll never be in my future,” she yelled and ran to the car.

  *

  Clenching his teeth in anger, Quinn slammed the car into gear and drove it up to Cat’s Paw. They didn’t speak the rest of the way, and as soon as the car bumped up into the drive, Tiffany jumped out and ran up to the mansion.

  Quinn watched her, hating her and loving her at the same time. He refused to accept the fact that she didn’t want him, and his nostrils flared in anger as he stared after her. Since when did Quinn Kessler ask a woman what she wanted anyway? What he wanted, he took, and the sooner she learned it, the better off she would be. He was glad her house was gone, and felt no remorse in the part he had played in destroying it. He thought about the day of the hurricane, and the power he felt in the wind, the lightning, and the thunder. The widow had outdone herself. The elements had been conjured up that day just for him, and directed like an arrow right toward Tiffany’s house. He didn’t know if the hurricane came from Heaven or Hell, but as long as it brought her to him—he didn’t care!

  Chapter 9

  ELAINE turned when she heard someone slamming through the front door. She opened her mouth to say something, but Tiffany had a look on her face that clearly told her she didn’t want to talk. Within only seconds, Quinn followed her, his gaze riveted upward, watching Tiffany climb the staircase. Instead of running up after her, he went into the study, retrieved something, slammed out and ran up the sprawling staircase two steps at a time, the expression on his face stormy.

  Elaine knew there would be trouble between them the minute Quinn found out that Tiffany refused to be pushed around. It seemed that Quinn’s controlling personality had met its match against Tiffany’s independence, and now they couldn’t even be in the same room without battling. She considered going up and trying and make peace, but before she had a chance to make up her mind she heard something fall and break. She begrudgingly turned her head toward the kitchen where Venita was doing the dishes. Elaine had found out that Venita was very sweet, but extremely clumsy.

  * * * *

  Tiffany had only been in her bedroom a few seconds when she heard a knock. “Go away!”

  “I just want to apologize. Don’t make me do it through the door!”

  Tiffany tried to calm herself for a moment before she walked stiffly toward the door and cracked it open.

  Quinn made a move to come in, but Tiffany moved to block his way. This angered him, and his gaze narrowed. “Let me in.”

  “No.”

  “Do you realize I could very easily pick you up and throw you off the veranda with one hand?”

  “Is that the way you apologize?”

  “All right, I’m sorry. I said some things I shouldn’t have. It won’t happen again.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now, may I come in?”

  “No.”

  “You fucking bitch!” he shouted, his face contorted with hate. “Someday you’ll beg me for it! Do you hear? You’ll beg!”

  “In your dreams, creep!” She pushed on the door to close it, but he strong-armed his way in.

  “Would you like to know who really destroyed your house?”

  “What do you mean? The hurricane did it.”

  “With a little help from the widow.”

  “That’s not possible. No one can control the elements.”

  “I told you not to underestimate the widow’s power, didn’t I?”

  “You mean you—?”

  “Yes.”

  “You stinking bastard! What in hell gives you the right to come into my life and turn it upside down?”

  “I’m sorry if you’ve suffered, but it was the only way.”

  “The only way to what, for God’s sake?”

  “To bring you here, and to keep you here.”

  “Get this straight, Quinn Kessler, the decisions I made, I made on my own.” Her voice rose with her anger. “My life is my own, do you understand? Not you, not the widow, not God in Heaven, or the devil in Hell makes my decisions for me.”

  Quinn smirked. “I doubt you could make a decision that doesn’t somehow involve Chapter 1, page one.”

  “Why you…you…” Her words faded when she saw Quinn bring something out from behind him. It was her book, Rogue of Love, the one he had retrieved from the study drawer. While she stood watching, like a child he began tearing pages out and shredding them with his evil fingers.

  “That, my dear, is what I think of your precious Curt Jensen, the bloodthirsty Vlad Alesandru, the oversexed Lexard Shane, and all the rest. I’ll see to it that every one of your outlandish creations meet their deserved end.”

  She gazed down at the pages that littered the floor of her room and back up at him again, seeing Quinn for what he really was. He wasn’t only jealous of Kirk, he was jealous of her mind—her writer’s mind—because that was where every male protagonist that Tiffany had ever created lived. It was true that she fell in love with her heroes, but it was something every female writer did. It meant nothing. But to Quinn, if Tiffany loved them, they were enemies—paper enemies—another adversary for him to overcome. It was that elusive part of her that belonged to her alone—a place deep inside her that he couldn’t invade except to cast contempt upon them, and destroy them before her eyes.

  “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

  “Stay away from me, Quinn Kessler,” she whispered.

  He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. “Did you ever make it with a crazy man?” he asked, his voice deep and raspy. “Who knows, you might like it.”

  Tiffany struggled when he grabbed both her arms and pulled her against him.

  “It’ll give you something to put in your next book. You have to be careful though, and describe it just right. You know, every kiss, every moan, every groan, every erotic feeling that goes through you during every fucking plunge.”

  She turned her head away so he couldn’t see her tears, but he grabbed her hair and turned her face back toward his.

  “Don’t turn away from me, bitch,” he said, and pulled her roughly to him and rubbed himself against her so close she could feel every curve of his body.

  “Don’t hold me like that, Quinn, let me go.”

  “What? The little slut that writes the trashy novels is getting virtuous?”

  “You bastard, I write what I have to. Sex sells.”

  “Speaking of selling, what would you take for a little action, huh?”

  “You’re a pig!” she yelled, and spat in his face.

  After wiping at his face, he backhanded her so hard, she landed on the bed. Standing over her, he unbuckled his belt and shouted, “For once in your life, you’re going to deliver, you smut-writing little cockteaser. You’re not going to wiggle that sexy little ass around Quinn Kessler and get away with it.”

  In only seconds he fell on her, his heavy body pinning her to the mattress. His hands were all over her, and he cursed as her clothes seemed to resist his invasion. His heavy breathing was loud in her ears, and she felt his cock growing and pushing against her. All of a sudden he came up off her and practically flew through the air, thudding loudly against the opposite wall. Tiffany felt a bolt of horror go through her when she looked up and saw a dark hulking figure with a scarred up face bending over her.

  With compassion in his flashing blue gaze, he asked, “Are you all right, Ms. Lovelace?”

  “Y-yes,” she whispered with a trembling voice.

  As he reached out to help her up from the bed, he was violently grabbed from behind.

  “You sorry scarred u
p freak, get your hands off her.”

  Kirk turned and backhanded Quinn, sending him reeling.

  With his hand on his bleeding mouth, he said, “What’s the matter, Frankenstein. Afraid I won’t leave any for you?”

  “Shut your filthy mouth, Quinn, and get out of here.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do, you ugly monster. Why in hell don’t you go back down to your stinking dungeon and die.”

  Kirk stalked toward Quinn, his scarred face full of fury. He grabbed Quinn by the front of his shirt and pushed him backward through the door.

  Quinn stumbled, hitting the corridor wall with a thud. “You son of a bitch. You think she’s gonna want you? With that face? What’s the matter? You think ugly turns her on?” He pulled himself up, wiping the blood from his mouth. “Well, good luck, Frankenstein, you’re gonna need it.” Quinn turned away, laughing, his laughter echoing down the dark corridor.

  Kirk turned toward Tiffany. When he saw her curious gaze raking over his grotesque face he hurriedly turned away, allowing only the undamaged part to show.

  She was speechless as she sat there and stared. It was the first time she had ever seen him outside his draping shadows, and somehow her tongue wouldn’t move. It wasn’t fright, but surprise that closed her mouth. His hair was dark and long like Quinn’s, and he was built slightly huskier than Quinn’s slim frame. Being careful not to scare him away, she rose from the bed gently, and hesitantly walked over to him. Very carefully, she reached out and touched his arm.

  “Don’t hide your scars from me, Kirk,” she whispered.

  It was getting late, and the room had deepened in shadow, but none surrounded him. He stared straight ahead, his face rigid, his handsome profile etched against the deepening darkness. You would never know what was on the other side until he turned. That’s when the full horror of his face would leap out at you, ripping a scream from your throat.

  “I don’t want to scare you, Ms. Lovelace,” he said softly. “I’ll go now.”

  “No, please,” she pleaded, reaching out to him ever so gently. When he reluctantly faced her, her breath caught in her throat, and his lids lowered in shame.

  Trying to be careful, she lifted her hands and stroked the monstrous face, imagining the handsome features that lurked beneath the puckering scars. It seemed so unfair that destiny, or was it called Fate that would so cruelly rip a face like his away. Was it some kind of punishment? What could a young, handsome, ambitious young man like him be guilty of? She was drawn to his lush, succulent lips, and could only imagine what it would be like to be kissed by them. His eyes were a compassionate blue, and his lashes thickly fringed. His dark hair was tousled on top, dropping down along his forehead just above his deeply arched eyebrows. As she continued to stroke him, she saw that his gaze was boldly searching her face.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “But you already…”

  “No. For what you were thinking.” Her gaze shifted along his face until it reached his lips where she boldly reached up and gave him a light peck on his mouth.

  He jerked away, angry. “What are you, some kind of pervert? You want to kiss a monster?”

  “But, Kirk, I only wanted…”

  “Oh, I know. You wanted to give the poor disgusting freak a thrill. Well, Ms. Lovelace, I don’t need your handouts. Sorry if I disturbed your little rendezvous with Quinn. I’ll watch it from now on.”

  *

  Kirk saw her tears, but he couldn’t stop. He had to fight against the attraction he felt for her, otherwise his heart would break beyond repair. Lowering his head to hide his face, he turned and fled to the basement. His bell tower—his sewer—his dungeon—his home.

  * * * *

  The next morning at the breakfast table Tiffany noticed Quinn fingering a small Band Aid at the corner of his mouth where Kirk had hit him. “Quinn, I didn’t mean for you to get hurt, but I’m sure as hell not going to apologize for it.”

  “Didn’t you? Well, it doesn’t matter, it’s behind us. Besides, I have a surprise for you.”

  “A surprise? For me?”

  “Yes. One I think you’ll like.”

  “But, why?”

  “You could call it a peace offering.”

  She lowered her head as the guilt went deeper. “Quinn, that really wasn’t necessary.”

  “Yes, it is. It’s very necessary. I got out of line, and you deserve…well, it’ll make me feel better anyway to make amends.” He indicated to her plate. “As soon as you’re finished, I’ll give it to you.”

  From that moment on the food tasted like cardboard, but Tiffany kept eating, aware that he was watching her. After forcing down a few more bites she finally pushed her plate away. That seemed to be Quinn’s cue. He blotted his lips, pushed his chair back, and threw down his napkin.

  “If you’re through, would you come with me?”

  Without saying anything, Tiffany rose and went with him to the front door. Before opening it, Quinn stopped, turned to her, and spoke softly. “It’s just beyond the door.”

  Tiffany frowned, and walked hesitantly around him and opened it. When she saw her car she turned back to him, her mouth hanging open.

  He smiled, jingling a pair of keys before her eyes. When she only stared at the dangling keys, he took her hand, turned her palm upward and laid the mass of metal in it.

  “My car,” she said, her voice soft with wonder and amazement. “I thought it had been demolished.”

  “Actually, it wasn’t too bad. I took it to my mechanic, and he put all his men on it.”

  “How bad was it?”

  “Just a lot of broken glass, a few scrapes, flat tires. The engine hadn’t been touched, though. Jake tells me it’s as good as new.”

  “Oh, my God, Quinn, I just can’t believe this. Of course, I’ll reimburse you.”

  “Nonsense,” he said, indicating back at the car. “On the back seat you’ll find a lot of your clothes. Almost everything was ripped up beyond repair, but I managed to find some things. I hope it’s enough.”

  Tiffany shook her head, and smiled. She felt as if her world was at last coming together again. “Quinn, I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything. I owed you this, and so much more.”

  “But this is—”

  “Tiffany.” He hesitated, a frown bringing his brows together. “I really made an ass of myself in your room yesterday. I was angry, childish, acted a little crazy, I know.” He chuckled softly. “Well, when I cooled off I was totally embarrassed.” He indicated to her head. “You’re much better now, and I know you’d probably like to get out of here as soon as possible, but I do wish you would consider staying. I mean, there’s no use in putting all that expense out on hotel bills when you can stay here for free. At least for a while. Now that you have your car, you’ll have a little more freedom, and I promise I’ll start acting like an adult instead of a child having a temper tantrum. I’ve also—”

  “Quinn—”

  He lifted a hand to stop her. “I have more good news. Our phone is working again, so you can make all the calls you want.”

  “Well, I am happy about the phones, and I’ll think about the rest.”

  He smiled. “That’s all I ask.”

  When he turned to leave, Tiffany watched him go, noticing how much more attractive Quinn was when he acted like a human being and wasn’t trying to force himself on her.

  After taking her clothes up to her room, Tiffany went into the kitchen and saw Elaine preparing Kirk’s breakfast tray.

  “Elaine, may I carry that down to Kirk?”

  “Tiffany, if it were up to me, of course you could, but Quinn would cry bloody murder if I let you do that. I’m really sorry, but it would be my neck in the noose.”

  Remembering how different Quinn seemed to be now, she almost insisted, but didn’t want to press the issue in case it was all an act. “It’s okay, I understand. I
certainly wouldn’t want you to get into trouble with Quinn.” Thinking Elaine might respond just this way, she slipped something from her pocket and gave it to her. “You wouldn’t object to this, would you?” She lifted a folded note and placed it halfway under the plate.

  Elaine glanced down at the small square of paper sticking out, and said, “I didn’t hear him say a thing about notes, did you?”

  Tiffany winked. “Thanks, chum.” She turned to go, but turned back and asked Elaine, “Hey, is it okay if I use the phone in the study?”

  “Sure.”

  Tiffany walked to the study, closed the door quietly behind her, and dialed Joni’s number.

  “Take it away, Leon.”

  “Well, I see you didn’t get blown away.”

  “Oh, my God, where have you been? I’ve been going crazy trying to find you. Do you know what the question of the century is? ‘Where’s Tiffany Lovelace?’ It’s on every TV station, in every magazine…cripes, it’s the only thing anyone is talking about. Your books are flying off the shelves, and every juicy piece of news has been shifted to the back page of the paper in favor of your disappearance. Believe me, kiddo, that ain’t easy to do. As for myself, I just knew you’d been blown completely off the face of the earth.”

  “Joni, would you quit babbling long enough for me to tell you what’s happened to me?”

  “Sure, but first, have you seen your house?”

  “Have I ever. Just listen to this…”

  Tiffany told Joni everything, and Joni followed the story with, “Are you okay?”

  “Good as new.”

  “Why the hell are you still there?”

  “Well, I was recuperating part of the time, but the real reason I’m still here is because of Kirk Kessler.”

  “What’s a Kirk Kessler?”

  “Oh, Joni,” Tiffany said, her words sounding like a breathy teenager in love. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. Actually, I think I’m—” She hesitated for a moment before going on. “Oh, God, I think I’m falling in love.”

  “Steady, girl, this could be serious.”

  “Joni, you’ve never heard me say anything like that before, have you?”