Unforgiven: Sins and Secrets Series of Duets Book 2 Read online

  Unforgiven

  Sins and Secrets Series of Duets, Book 2

  Willow Winters

  Contents

  Introduction

  Preface

  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

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Forget Me Not

  30. Sneak Peek

  About Willow

  Join my Naughty List

  Sneak Peek at Broken

  Blurb

  Prologue

  1. Olivia

  Introduction

  Unforgiven

  * * *

  Sins and Secrets Series

  By Willow Winters

  * * *

  The sins of his past can’t be forgiven.

  * * *

  Mason Thatcher gave me chills when I first laid eyes on him. The good kind. The kind that make your body ache, and your heart hammer.

  * * *

  What’s even better is that he looked at me the same way.

  There was a hunger in his eyes that wouldn’t be sated, and a confidence in his stride that told me I could never run from him. Back then, I didn’t want to.

  * * *

  It’s not fair that his touch eased my pain.

  That his lips on mine made my worries vanish.

  That his love gave me a reason to breathe again.

  * * *

  With him I felt complete, as if fate had given me a second chance.

  * * *

  Then I learned the truth: the sins and secrets of what had really brought us together.

  * * *

  I knew it was too good to be true, but I never could have imagined he’d be capable of something so cold and cruel. That he was the reason my world crumbled.

  * * *

  There’s no way we can go back to what we once had, and it’s not as easy as walking away. He can’t risk me telling his secrets.

  * * *

  I don’t know what choices I have, or how I’ll survive this.

  * * *

  What he’s done is unforgivable, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let me go.

  Preface

  Kintsukuroi,

  Means to repair with gold.

  The once destroyed and shattered,

  Repaired with binds meant to hold.

  * * *

  The bits are mended over time,

  The piece stronger than before.

  It’s more beautiful for being broken.

  Different? Yes, but ruined no more.

  Chapter 1

  Julia

  * * *

  I get chills when I look at him,

  My heart filled with dread.

  He ruined me and left me scarred,

  Yet pulled me in his bed.

  * * *

  He lied to me and made me weak,

  And hid his sins from view.

  The truth always comes out;

  It’s time he gets his due.

  * * *

  Fear, sadness, and regret?

  I have nothing left but hate.

  How dare he say he loves me?

  Forgiveness? It’s too late.

  * * *

  The only thing you need to remember is my name. Just my name and what I've done to you tonight.

  Mason whispered the words so close to my ear, sending a shiver of want through my body. It was everything I desired when I met him. He made that promise to me the first night, and I so easily fell into his bed.

  I'd been so desperate to feel anything but the heartache and misery I’d succumbed to.

  If only I could take it back.

  If only I'd known this man was the cause of my pain.

  I stare at him across the other side of his bedroom, where he's sitting in the corner. His elbows rest on his thighs as he hunches over the edge of the reading chair with his head in his hands. His fingers rub back and forth along the back of his head as if there’s a thought inside his mind he can’t quite reach.

  He won’t look at me; he merely stares at the ground in complete silence.

  My body is restless and my eyes burn with a desperate need to cry, but I have nothing left.

  I try to scoot my body up on the bed to soothe my sore arms, but the rope tied around my wrists chafes and tightens with the sudden pull. I wince and suck in a breath through clenched teeth; my shoulders are screaming in pain.

  Hours must have passed by now since I found out the truth. Hours of me screaming and fighting him, clawing at him and trying to escape his strong grip. Hours of being tied to the bed.

  It's been only minutes since he’s come back into the room though. Minutes since he’s opened that door and let his eyes rest on me. I'm pathetic, weak and completely at his mercy. Captive to a man I loved who hid a secret so dark and corrupt it’s ruined me. I’ll never be the same. There’s no way to recover.

  Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

  Minutes since he’s lowered himself into the chair without a word to me. A chair I brought from my home to his. A chair I’d cried countless tears in after my husband died. “I hate you.” The words slowly cut their way up my sore throat. They’re barely audible, since my voice is so raspy and weak from the screaming.

  He slowly lifts his head, his corded muscles rippling. For the first time since I’ve been with Mason, after months spent falling in love with him, I feel real fear.

  The sharp lines of his jaw look more intense in the dim light, the shadows only making them seem more severe. His steel grey eyes are like daggers as he captures my gaze.

  I can’t breathe; I can’t look away.

  “You don’t,” he says and his voice is rough and deep. He sounds stronger than before. But it’s a lie. All lies.

  I do. I hate him more than I could ever express.

  Finally, I gasp for air, breaking his gaze and staring up at the ceiling. Even that minor movement makes the raw wounds at my wrists hurt. I don’t show it though; I try to hide it.

  I gave this man everything, never hiding a single piece of me. I won’t be so foolish again. Never again.

  “I hate you more than you’ll ever know,” I murmur to the ceiling in an eerily calm voice.

  I hear the creak of the floor, and my eyes whip to him as he stands.

  He rises so slowly. His muscular frame seems so much larger at this moment. He's always been dominating and intimidating, but this is something darker… something more.

  I have nothing to protect me, not even a sheet. He stripped the linens off the bed, and I was left in only the baggy, thin cotton t-shirt and underwear I slipped on this morning. The chill is getting to me. My body feels cold, so fucking cold and tired as I shiver uncontrollably.

  The bed dips and groans as he leans a knee on it, just a foot away from me. I struggle to pull away, but I’m stuck here. Tied to the fucking bed and held against my will.

  “I love you, Jules,” he says and his words are a mix of strangled pain and determi
nation. He’s a broken man with a tortured soul.

  I’ve met men before who've been wound tightly, waiting to go off like a bomb. They were always constantly on edge and ready to fight. But Mason’s not like that. Instead he’s like thread loosely wrapped around a spindle, nothing but a mess of tangles. But this thread’s sharp to the touch and there’s no hope at unraveling it without cutting yourself.

  I never knew how deeply he’d wounded me. I had no idea that while I was busy mending myself and leaning on him for support, he was watching me bleed out, but saying nothing. The closer he got, the deeper the inevitable betrayal, but that didn’t stop him.

  I let my head drop to look him in the eyes. It makes my heart swell with an unbearable pain to have him so close to me. To see how injured he is, but knowing it’s nothing compared to what he’s done to me.

  I truly loved him. I thought fate had given me a second chance at love and happiness. I knew it was too good to be true.

  “You’re a sick fuck,” I spit out, narrowing my eyes and waiting for him to strike back with the same venom I’ve given him.

  I listen to him breathe calmly and evenly as I watch his chest rise and fall, then look back into his cold eyes.

  “Maybe,” he answers before rising off the bed and turning away from me. My heart plummets. It hurts. It physically hurts to see his pain, but it hurts more to know what he’s done to me.

  The wood floors creak as he heads toward the door, leaving me here and not giving me any indication of what’s to come.

  “Aren’t you going to say you’re sorry?” I whisper although the words pain me.

  He opens the door partway, stopping in his tracks as he registers what I’ve asked. He turns slowly to look back at me over his shoulder, his hand still on the carved glass doorknob.

  “I already told you I’m sorry. You were never supposed to know the truth.”

  “You’re only sorry that I found out?” I ask with equal amounts disbelief and agony.

  His eyes dart to the floor and the bedroom door groans as it opens slightly wider.

  He glances up at me hesitantly, as if debating on telling me something. It would be the truth; I can see it, can feel the intensity. But he just says nothing, swinging the door open and walking through with even strides before slamming the door shut behind him.

  Chapter 2

  Mason

  * * *

  The past is dark,

  And filled with pain.

  Mistakes were made,

  And nothing gained.

  * * *

  If I had known,

  I’d have found a way.

  But what’s done is done,

  The truth won’t go away.

  * * *

  They say if you love someone, you should let them go.

  That’s bullshit.

  I didn’t know it until I lost her, but I had nothing to live for without Jules. There’s no fucking way I’m going back to that.

  The idea that she could turn me in has hardly even registered. It’s merely a passing thought that intrudes upon the images of seeing her walk away from me. The memories of her pushing against my chest, scratching and violently kicking me. Her screams that she hates me ring in my ears over and over.

  I swallow thickly as I descend the stairs, gripping the railing and matching the heavy thud of my bare feet with the pounding of my heart.

  I need to figure out how to make her forget the past and remember her future is with me. My head nods, envisioning how this was supposed to be. How it could have ended so beautifully.

  I check the lock on the front door as I pass the foyer, still completely fucked from our earlier struggle and head for the dining room, ignoring the mess.

  More importantly, I need to find out who the fuck knows what I did and if they have any evidence.

  Jules is angry, and I get that. Saying it was a shock is obviously an understatement. I flick on the light and my eyes are instantly drawn to the bar. To a vice I desperately need to handle this shit.

  She was never meant to find out what happened. I was a different man then. If I’d known her, I would have handled it differently. I would have ripped her away from that piece of shit and taken her for myself.

  I grab a glass from the rack on the edge of the bar; the glass clinks as the adrenaline in my blood begins to dim for the first time since seeing that look on her face as she read the letter.

  I don’t know how to fix this. Every other trouble Jules has had has been easy to remedy. This… I know it’s unforgivable, but what she wants isn’t an option for us. I can’t go back to what I once had and who I used to be.

  I need her and she may not admit it, but she needs me. Deep down, she knows it's true. This doesn’t change anything.

  I’ll figure out a way to keep her and make her happy again. It’s not the first time I’ve destroyed her; I think as the bottom of the heavy glass hits the bar top.

  I crack my neck to the side as I hear her cry out again, the sharp profanity echoing down the stairway and hall. Her voice is raw and hoarse, and I know she’s regretting moving in with me now that she’s learned the truth. If we were at her place, the neighbors would have heard everything, and the cops would already have been called. I’d be fucked.

  A small smile kicks my lips up as I twist off the cap to the whiskey and slowly pour it into the tumbler. No one can hear her but me while we’re in here.

  I’m the only knight in shining armor she’s going to get.

  I bring the glass to my lips and the smile vanishes, my eyes drifting to the lit fireplace. She turned it on earlier, saying it brings a warmth to the darkness in the dining room. She has no idea.

  I down the whiskey, and rake my fingers through my hair as I let out a frustrated sigh over the sound of her screaming.

  She’s going to be sore and angry, and there will be marks on her wrists, but she’ll survive. She’ll get over it.

  Whoever wrote that note though, whoever tried to tear my sweetheart from me, that fucker won’t survive this. I grit my teeth as I slam the glass down and feel the burn of the whiskey in my chest. As soon as I have a name, the fucker’s dead.

  The thought fuels me to head to the entryway. The rug is crooked from when I dragged Jules up the stairs, and the lamp on the hall table is on its side, but at least it’s not broken. My keys and wallet are still on the floor from when she knocked them off the table in an attempt to hold on to something, anything to keep her from being taken upstairs.

  My eyes dart up to the wall behind the iron banister. A low hum of admonishment leaves me as I bend down to pick up the littered items.

  The dents and scrapes on the walls are a bit more difficult to fix. Recalling the feeling of her struggling against me stirs my skin. I close my eyes and picture how I held her tight against me, forcing her still and pushing her against the wall, trapping her. She never stopped fighting though. I open my eyes and count every little mark. Her nails scraped against the drywall, desperate for something to save her. It’s evidence that’s not so easy to clean up.

  The keys jingle as I toss them onto the table, scooting it back into place and then I snatch up the crumpled piece of thick cream parchment.

  I clear my throat, willing the images and memories to go away as my chest tightens with unbearable pain. I had her. I had my sweetheart and she loved me, I know she did.

  The letter crinkles as I focus my eyes on it and turn my back to the staircase, resting my shoulder against the doorframe of the dining room and listening to the crackling of the fire.

  Who the fuck wrote this?

  It’s handwritten and leans more toward feminine penmanship. My eyes narrow as I look over every inch of the paper trying to recognize the curve of a letter, something, anything. But nothing comes to mind.

  Dear Julia,

  * * *

  It pains me to tell you this, but I can’t stand to watch from a distance as you fall into a trap. Your husband was murdered. I know this is going to shock you, bu
t I have proof. You may not believe me, but I pray that you do.

  Mason Thatcher murdered him. Don’t trust him. Don’t let him know that you know. If he finds out, you won’t be safe.

  All I can tell you is that you need to run. Stay far away.

  I can’t say any more. I hope this letter finds you safe and you take every word for what it is, the truth.

  Truly yours,

  X

  * * *

  Proof. My eyes focus on the word, my heart racing faster and faster. No fucking way.

  There were no cameras. There’s no fucking way anyone saw. He was just leaving his apartment after fucking his mistress, on his way back home. Back to Jules, his wife who he didn’t deserve. My chest rumbles with a low murmur of anger.

  My eyes whip to the stairs as I hear Jules call out again. Her voice is so hoarse I can’t make out a damn word she’s saying. I grind my teeth and resist the urge to burn the note. Several heavy breaths leave me before I set it back down and slowly let out a heavy sigh.