Frankenstein In Love Page 22

  Wear this tonight.

  She angrily crumpled it in her hand, and threw the little ball of paper across the room. She grabbed up the scanty little outfit he had spread out, and put it away. With hurried movements, she picked up her suitcase and started out of the room. She didn’t care what Dr. Wilder said, she wasn’t staying here another minute. When she thought of the number of times she had started to leave and hadn’t, she cursed herself.

  At that moment Quinn stepped from behind the door. “Where are you going?”

  “You creep! Hiding behind a door spying?”

  “Not really, you just came in before I had a chance to get out.”

  “For your information, I’m going to a hotel. I don’t intend to spend another minute here with you being tricked, lied to and harassed.”

  “All right,” he said, raising his arms in surrender. You win. I won’t bother you. Remember the cup of tea? By the next full moon, you’ll be coming after me.”

  “In your dreams, Quinn. Now, let me through.”

  Instead of getting out of her way he walked toward her, threateningly. “I told you,” he said, his voice raspy. “I won’t bother you, now put your suitcases down like a good girl.” When she didn’t move, he continued. “Would a promise do?”

  “A promise?” She snickered. “From you? Your promises are made of smoke, Quinn. There one minute, gone the next.”

  His eyes became hard. “If you leave, Kirk may not get out of the hospital…alive.”

  She stared at his mad expression, and knew she was trapped. She couldn’t leave, but she couldn’t stay.

  “Now, get into your little nightie and let’s see how you look.”

  “You said you wouldn’t bother me.”

  “Did I say that? I don’t remember saying anything like that. You didn’t happen to get it in writing, did you?”

  “I absolutely can’t believe you,” she whispered, the sound of unbridled hate in her voice. “You’re low, corrupt, and totally mad.”

  “Stop, you’re turning my head,” he said, flashing his famous lopsided smile while his gaze smoldered with a darkness she hadn’t noticed before. Having a newfound confidence, he reached out and gently pulled her to him. As he pressed her close to his body he covered her lips, parting them in an exploratory kiss. She didn’t move, or struggle in any way, but stood in his arms stiff and cold. He stepped back, gazing down at her and frowning. “What in hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m a victim, not a lover,” she said through clenched teeth. “You leave me cold, Quinn. I love Kirk, and he’s the one I want to feel deep inside me. I want his hands on me, caressing me. I want to marry him, and I want to have his children.”

  “Well, get over it, bitch. It’ll never happen.”

  “No, maybe not. Especially since you went to the hospital and poisoned his mind against me.” Tears began falling down her face. “You took a savage act of intended rape, and twisted it and made it into nothing more than a stupid act of seduction. Quinn Kessler, you’re a black-hearted demon straight from the pits of hell.”

  “So, I’m a bad boy, right? If it gets me what I want, who cares?”

  He pulled her to him again, and began nibbling her neck.

  She was stiff.

  “Well, move, do something.”

  She gazed at him, enjoying his struggle. She stood unemotional as he began unbuttoning her blouse, and leaned down and kissed the fullness of her cleavage. As he reached around and unfastened her bra, Tiffany had to bite her tongue to stay still and keep quiet.

  Her breasts bloomed before him, and he began kissing and drawing on her nipples while breathing heavily. From there his feverish desire led him upward where he covered her lips with his own, and kissed her deeply. Finally annoyed by her response, he lifted his head and gazed down at her. “Are you just going to stand there?”

  With no emotion in her voice, she said mockingly, “Oh, Quinn, I want you so. Hurry, oh hurry and make mad, passionate love to me.”

  He glared down at her smirking face, obviously realizing what she was doing. “You cheap little piece of trash, you won’t get away with this. I’ll make you sorry you turned Quinn Kessler away.”

  He released her half naked body roughly, and yelled, “I can’t believe you want to give all that to a friggin’ beast. A freak that doesn’t appreciate it. Or maybe it turns you on to make love with a monster.”

  “If it did, I wouldn’t look any further than you,” she said sarcastically.

  “Oh, very funny. Tell me, what are you going to do when the novelty wears off, for God’s sake, when the thrill has ended, huh? Go out and find yourself another monster? Or do you go on to something a little more sensational to satisfy your perverted lusts and fill another book with your filth.”

  “If I can somehow mend my relationship with Kirk after what you’ve done to it, I’m going to marry him and show him more love than any man has ever had.”

  Quinn turned, and was silent as he walked casually to the door. When he opened it to leave, he hesitated, and turned back, his hand on the knob. “I wouldn’t rehearse those wedding vows just yet, my dear.” Tiffany’s gaze widened in fear when he continued, venom dripping from every word. “The groom that comes down that aisle may not be breathing.”

  Chapter 20

  SINCE Reyna’s death, Tiffany had been communicating directly with the publisher of her books without the aid of the Lovelines Literary Group, and found it a tedious task.

  “You understand that the deadline isn’t for some time yet,” said Harper Wilcox of Luster Publishing. “Are you sure you want to submit it this soon? You certainly got this book done in record time. Can we expect this kind of speed in the future? Perhaps we should think about revising your contract.”

  You mean like five books a year instead of three? Tiffany thought, but didn’t say anything.

  “I don’t think that’s necessary Mr. Wilcox.” She looked down at the stiff cardboard package that held her computer disk. “I know it’s much sooner than expected, but it’s done, and I want to get it out of my hands.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Because if I don’t, I may change my mind.” She began pacing and raking her hands through her hair. “What I’m trying to say is, it’s different, not like the others. I don’t even know if you’ll like it.”

  “Is it good?”

  “It’s very good, but if you can’t handle it, let me know as soon as possible so I can submit it to another publisher.”

  “Doesn’t it follow the usual guidelines?”

  “No, it doesn’t. It’s the story of a very special man.”

  “Can you tell me something about it?”

  Instead of giving the publisher a storyline, Tiffany began angrily accusing herself. “You want to know what it’s about? I’ll tell you what it’s about. It’s about a man whose most intimate thoughts I’ve casually written down on paper for the world to see.”

  “Ms. Lovelace, is something wrong?”

  “It’s his friggin’ life, and I’ve ripped it apart like a common tabloid. I’ve uncovered him and taken away his privacy.”

  “Ms. Lovelace—”

  “I was only thinking of myself, damn it, when I callously yanked him out of the safety of his darkness and made him into a bigger-than-life personality that he never asked to be.”

  “Ms. Lovelace, please, get hold of yourself.”

  “Do you know what I’ve done?” she yelled into the phone. “I’ve thrown the man I love to the wolves to be eaten alive.” Dabbing at her eyes, Tiffany sat down crying, hating herself.

  “Is this an expose’? Someone you’re trying to ruin?”

  “No,” Tiffany whispered into the phone. “I’m not trying to ruin him, I’m trying to give him back his life even if I have to ram it down his stubborn throat.”

  After she slammed the phone down, she managed to get control of herself and dry her eyes. She picked up
the package, full of doubts, and held it to her breast wondering if she was doing the right thing, and knowing she would lose Kirk over it if she hadn’t already. She thought of all the days and nights she had spent in this old mansion watching Kirk endure his darkness. Trying to imagine the deep, agonizing pain he must have gone through that would make him want to slit his wrists. It wasn’t because of her. He wanted to bring an end to the years he had spent in torment, rejection, and loneliness.

  In her mind’s eye she saw his face lurking in dark shadows watching her. She saw the tears he had shed falling down a scarred face. She saw a lone figure walking on a vacant beach, and she heard agonizing cries coming from the basement when he couldn’t stand being in the darkness another moment. She saw the shimmering moonlight shining down on his scarred face as he gazed up out of his window, wondering if there was a God. She heard Quinn’s cruel voice cry out the words that must have cut through him like a knife.

  Frankenstein! Monster! Beast! You’re a fucking insect that lives under the stairs! A piece of dirt that hides in the basement!

  She cried when she thought of how Kirk had suffered, but knew his story needed to be told, even if it meant losing him. Again Quinn’s bitter words rang out from her memory. Kirk, she’s only interested in you to get a plot for a new book. She remembered the look Kirk gave her when he thought Quinn might be telling the truth, and begging her with that same look to deny it. She always did, but knew that one day he would have to know.

  And today was that day.

  Hugging the package to her, she walked to the car and laid it down on the seat next to her. As she drove to the Post Office, her voice broke as she wept. “Kirk, darling, please forgive me,”

  * * * *

  Serena Rush, Senior Editor of Luster Publishing House sat for hours reading every word of Tiffany Lovelace’s latest manuscript. She learned about a man with a scarred face that lived in a cellar, and was fascinated. She turned one page after another, and many cups of coffee later she finally put it down. The book was excellent, and the public would go wild over it. It was completely different from anything Tiffany Lovelace had written in the past, but it was clearly her best work. Picking up the phone, she dialed Tiffany’s number.

  * * * *

  Quinn was working in the study when the phone rang. Reluctantly pulling himself away from the figures on the page, he picked it up and said, “Kessler residence.”

  “May I speak with Tiffany Lovelace?”

  Quinn’s curiosity was piqued. “She isn’t here now, but she should be back soon. May I take a message?”

  “Yes. This is Serena Rush of Luster Publishing. I’ve just read Tiffany’s latest submission. There was some question about us handling it, but you can tell her we’re very excited about it. It is somewhat out of our realm, but it’s a fascinating piece of work, and we can’t imagine anyone else handling it.”

  “She sent you a novel?”

  “Yes. Please be sure to tell her we love it and think it’s the best thing she’s ever written.”

  “Oh, uh…yes…yes, she’ll be pleased to hear that.”

  “Tell her I would appreciate a call back. I need to know if she intends to put in an author’s note, a dedication, things like that.”

  “By the way, just which one is it? I mean Tiffany writes so many, I just can’t keep up.”

  “It’s called, Face in the Shadows. It’s a fascinating story about a man living in the cellar of an old mansion with a severely scarred face.”

  Quinn’s gaze narrowed. “Oh yes, that one. Well, you can be sure that I’ll give her the message.”

  Just as Quinn was putting down the receiver, his attention turned toward the line of windows along the study wall and saw Tiffany’s car crunching up the driveway. With his well-known smirk in place, he leaned back, rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and touched his dimpled chin in prayer fashion. Finally, he heard Tiffany opening the door.

  “Tiffany!”

  *

  Tiffany immediately stiffened. She hesitantly came in and stood in the doorway of the study. “Yes?”

  “I have good news for you.”

  “Quinn, please make this short, I’ve got a lot of things to do.”

  He got up from the desk. “And just what is it that takes up so much of your time here lately, Tiffany? You’re not writing another book, are you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He steadily rose from his chair and walked up to her. Lifting his hand, he boldly fingered a lock of her hair. “Your publisher just called.”

  Tiffany felt fear rise up in her.

  “Apparently they are very excited about your new book, and have decided to publish it for you.”

  Tiffany was silent, wondering when he would set off the explosion.

  “I believe it’s called, uh…what was the name again? Oh yes, Face in the Shadows. You know, the one about a man living in a cellar? Fascinating. Scarred face, and all that. A compelling story I’m sure, but nothing like your others.”

  “Quinn, you don’t understand. I’m doing this for K…”

  “Oh, I think I understand perfectly, but I don’t know if Kirk is going to understand—when I tell him.”

  Tiffany’s gaze widened in fear. “Quinn, you wouldn’t do that. I’m going to tell him, but in time, in my own way. Please, Quinn, don’t do this.”

  He reached down and began gently pushing her hair back. “Just look at that beautiful face,” he said with mocking sadness. “You look like you’re going to cry.”

  “Quinn, if you tell him, it’ll kill him. He won’t understand unless I…”

  Quinn paused, an evil smile playing along his lips. He knew he had her just where he wanted her. So, full of serious pretense, he put his hands in his pockets, and gazed down at the floor. “You really want me to keep my mouth shut?”

  “I’m not only asking, Quinn, I’m begging. For Kirk’s sake, please don’t.”

  “And, uh—just what are you willing to do to ensure my silence?”

  “I don’t know, anything, I guess.” She gulped. “What do you want?”

  He laughed. “Don’t play dumb, Tiffany.” He chucked her chin, speaking huskily. “You know what I want.”

  “I’ll pay you, Quinn. I’ll give you everything I receive on the book. It’ll be a bestseller, Quinn. You’ll be rich.”

  “Tiffany. I have all the money I need, I don’t need yours.”

  “All right, I’ll—I’ll leave Kirk and never bother him again. I’ll just disappear. He won’t know where to find me.”

  “My, my, how dramatic. Sounds like a plot for yet another novel.” He gazed up toward the ceiling, his fingers rubbing his chin. “Let’s see now, the heroine promises to give up the man she loves if the villain won’t tell him the secret that will hurt him needlessly.” He snickered. “Sorry, but that one won’t sell, Tiffany. Too corny.”

  “What, then? I don’t know what to give you.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Don’t you?”

  They were both silent as they stared into each other’s eyes.

  Without warning he reached out and squeezed the tops of her arms, pulling her up to him as if he were going to kiss her, and spoke very low and husky. “Tonight. Wear the sheer little baby doll and everything that goes with it. I want you to model it for me…in my bedroom.”

  “You perverted creep. I wouldn’t…”

  All at once Quinn pushed her away and glanced down at his watch. “I’m late. Have to get to the hospital.” He shifted his gaze toward hers. “You know, see how Kirk is doing, and let him know what’s been happening around the place.” He smiled. “He’ll love the news about your book.”

  “Quinn, I can’t. I just can’t.”

  “Fine. You apparently don’t care what happens to Kirk, right?”

  She gazed up at him questioningly. “Quinn, I don’t understand your obsession with me. A man like you could have any woman he wants. Why me?�
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  His gaze burned into her. “You may write hellish books, but you’ve sure got a bad memory, baby. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me telling you that I wanted a sample of what you’ve got. Hell, I know you’ll fight me, but I don’t care. I love your bites and scratches. I love feeling you pushing yourself against me. But before it’s over, I promise you, you’ll beg me to fuck the hell out of you, and scream with an orgasm that sends you into orbit.”

  “But I don’t want…”

  “I don’t give a friggin’ damn what you want! I don’t care what you do to get yourself ready. Imagine I’m Kirk, read one of your smutty novels. All I know is you’d better be ready for me, or be a damned good actress. Understood? And, Tiffany, you’d better be convincing. No more cold fish imitations.”

  Tears flooded her eyes, and she nodded.

  * * * *

  Since the day Dr. Wilder told Tiffany he would help her, he and Elaine had been collecting everything they could find about Tiffany and leaving it lying around in Kirk’s room. In addition to taping all of Tiffany’s interviews and replaying them for Kirk whenever they got the chance, Elaine brought in only magazines with Tiffany’s pictures in them, bought her books and laid them around Kirk’s room, and she and Dr. Wilder talked about Tiffany night and day over Kirk’s bed.

  Now Kirk was sitting up, leafing through some magazines. Everything he saw either had Tiffany’s picture on the front or a spread inside. He threw them aside in anger, and picked up a book and saw it was one of hers with her picture on the back cover. He got so mad he threw it across the room toward the door just as Dr. Wilder was entering.

  “Whoa! What’s the matter, Kirk?”

  “I’m tired of seeing her face on everything I pick up. Get it out of here, now. And if I see her interviewed on TV one more time I’m gonna personally make sure that TV meets up with an accident.”

  “Kirk, your bill will be high enough, I don’t think you want to add the cost of a broken TV on it.”