Don't Let Go Read online

  “My father did everything on his own. He was an only child and alone most of his life.”

  I lift my head to look into his eyes as I say, “Alone?” Alec only nods in response.

  My back settles against the leather as I give him a small smile and ask, “Could I take you up on that offer for tea, Mr. Kulls?” My voice is soft and sweet.

  He smirks at me, rising from his seat, but not answering me. As he pours the tea I watch the snow falling behind him, covering the already white ground.

  “You don’t have to coax me, Lila,” Alec says, placing the cup on the saucer and bringing it to me. “I’m happy to address whatever it is that’s on your mind.”

  Goosebumps flow down my arms. Caught in the act. “Was I that obvious?” I ask him, not willing to hide the fact that yes, I was playing into his ego to get him in a favorable mood.

  “What do you really want to know?” he asks, passing me the tea.

  I swallow thickly, taking the hot cup and watching as he retakes his seat. The steam drifts up and begs me to take a sip. I lift the cup to my lips, but I don’t drink just yet. “Brant, the driver,” I start to explain, not sure if he knows who I’m talking about.

  “I know who Brant is. Just spit it out,” he says with his fingers steepled and the tips tapping against one another.

  Although I appreciate his no-nonsense attitude, I’m intimidated, but I won’t shy away. “Brant mentioned that your father broke tradition?” I say as I glance back down to my notes. Alec gives me a look of confusion at first and then lets out a heavy sigh as his eyes flash with a knowing look.

  “That’s not very fair of Brant. It wasn’t just my father.” Alec looks over his shoulder and out of the window and then back at me. “You want to hear the history of the town?” He gestures behind him to the shelves and shelves of books as I nod. “I’ve got plenty of books that will tell you the ins and outs of the economy and where our money comes from. The names of those who took office and how the laws changed over time. There are even books on heritage and marriages.”

  I purse my lips, nearly ready to tell him that I want to hear about only his father and their family’s history, but he continues.

  “You’ll find the Kulls have been influential since as far back as we can date. The history of the island starts with my family, and we’ve maintained our position throughout generations.”

  “What position is that? You don’t hold offices.”

  “There’s a small sheriff here and elected officials, but they hold positions to fill in seats and make sure things run smoothly. The Kulls maintain wealth, not only monetary, but also land and the decisions to invest in certain industries have been critical to our island’s economy.”

  “So, you provide the jobs?”

  Alec shakes his head. “Not exactly. More like we make sure there are jobs available, because we make sure the resources are already here before they’re needed. As a result, the money on the island doesn’t have to go overseas. The estate holds a huge stake in the natural resources here. If anything runs low, we acquire and disperse it as needed.”

  I can feel my eyes narrowing, but before I can ask anything further, he adds, “In the last two decades, we’ve ensured that the island can sustain the three-hundred-person population on its own. With modern technology, access to anything a person can desire is available through the shipping ports. This town likes to keep its traditions, to stay independent and maintain a relatively hidden and quiet lifestyle. We make certain it’s possible.”

  I take a moment to write the information down, but it’s not what I wanted to discuss. This is simply business jargon. It’d make for an interesting piece maybe, but one question pops out at me. “What’s in it for you?”

  “This is simply what the Kulls do, and of course the income and notoriety are a bonus,” he says as he taps his pointer finger to his lip. “That’s not quite what you were after, is it?” he asks me after a moment.

  “It’s not,” I tell him honestly.

  “What then?” he asks, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

  “What traditions were left behind?” I ask Alec, and he shakes his head as he sits back in his chair.

  His eyes search my face for something, but I’m not sure what though. Finally, he answers, “The island descends from ancient clans who took pride in nature and made every decision based on customs and folklore.” He licks his lips, and my eyes are drawn to them. “Even marriages were determined by old traditions, up until my grandfather’s generation.” I nod, and he continues.

  “Although the island fell out of the old ways with the industrial revolution, some beliefs still carry on to this day.”

  “Which ones?”

  A huff of a laugh leaves him as he says, “Ones my father refused to teach us, I’m afraid.”

  “Why’s that?”

  He noticeably swallows and for the first time he seems uncomfortable, but before I can take it back, he speaks. He looks past me at the books behind me as he talks. “He married my mother according to what he was supposed to do, and she passed away giving birth to my youngest brother, Elliot. They were only together for twelve short years.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say and he waves off my apology, continuing.

  “He wasn’t supposed to remarry. The elders wouldn’t bless a second marriage. They’re all gone now with no one left to replace them, because my father made sure of that. Back then, everyone took their word as law. They said my mother was the only one meant for him, and that if he remarried it would be an atrocity and place shame on our family.”

  Alec gives me a sad smile as he continues. “He demanded the ritual regardless. It involves a tincture for those who haven’t found their partner. The tales say that once you’ve had a taste of it, within a day’s end you’ll have found the one you’re meant to be with.”

  “A tincture?” I ask, cocking a brow and shifting my legs to get more comfortable. The tea cup rattles in my lap as Alec nods his head and continues. It’s almost a fairytale-like story. Or maybe something darker, but this is what I want to hear. Even if the article ends up being paragraphs about business, shipping docks and sustainability, I’d rather spend hours listening to tales like this.

  “My father said the elders lied, and that he’d found his new wife the very next day after drinking the concoction. When she died only a few months into their marriage, it hit my father hard.”

  “How old were you?” I ask him cautiously.

  “I was only seven. Elliot was six, and my brother Marcus was twelve.”

  “And then the three of you took over the company years later. Because he’d passed away?”

  Alec nods. “For ten years, things took a turn for the worse, for both our family and the island, but we recovered. A decade and a half later, and all has been salvaged.”

  “Do you believe your father?” I ask him.

  He grins at me, a devilish look that makes me question my naivety. “My brothers and I didn’t get this company back on top with tradition and folklore.”

  My eyes fall and I feel foolish until he adds, “Three months ago, I went with my brother Marcus, and we bought the mix from the old women on the far side of the mountain. They live by the land there and still carry on the old traditions.”

  “Why did you go there?”

  Alec taps his fingers against his knee as he answers, “Marcus is older than me, and all three of us have lived relatively solitary lives.” His gaze wavers for a moment, a sadness coating his voice as he adds, “Marcus wanted a wife. He wanted someone to love. So we went there for the tincture, the very same one my father claimed worked for him.”

  “You drank the tincture?” I ask to clarify.

  “I did.” He nods as he answers me.

  “And?” I can’t help but ask, “Did you meet your soul mate?” I try to add a note of humor to my voice, realizing how foolish the notion is, but the romantic heart in me is beating slowly, waiting for an answer with bated breath.
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  “My brother went out searching for his. He’s desperate for someone in his life. I only drank it to prove a point to him.” The coldness in his voice catches me off guard, and something in his tone makes my heart clench with nearly unbearable pain. “I stayed in this room for the next day and a half.” He holds my gaze as he adds, “I didn’t see a soul.”

  My blood turns to ice and I look down at my notepad trying to take a few steps back, but I feel lost and emotional. His story made me feel hopeful, alive. Like how I used to get when I was a child reading Disney books.

  “All I did was read,” he says in a tone that sounds sympathetic and comforting; like he senses this upsets me and wishes it didn’t.

  I clear my throat and stare past him as he says, “The time has gotten away from me.” He stands, and I finally notice the snow hasn’t stopped falling. There’s not a spot remaining which isn't blanketed beneath a thick layer of snow.

  “You can stay here tonight,” Alec says with no room for negotiation in his tone. “The mountain isn’t safe for traveling.”

  Lila

  “I really don’t want to put you out.” I stare out of the window in the kitchen. The ground is still carpeted with several feet of snow, but it’s practically raining now. “I think-”

  “Brant’s not going to be able to make it up the mountain safely with the hail,” Alec says confidently, cutting off any excuse that I have. I open my mouth to protest, but he turns to me with his brows raised.

  “Don’t worry, Lila,” he says with a small smile. “It happens from time to time here.” His eyes flicker to me and then back to the chicken on the cutting board.

  I don’t know how an interview turned into having a sexy stranger cooking for me. It feels like a date in every possible way.

  “It doesn’t where I’m from,” I say uneasily, looking outside. The bay window has a small seat attached. It’s so out of place in the updated and masculine kitchen.

  The seat itself looks it should be littered with pillows and have a small shelf of books next to it. It’s a tempting reading nook, just outside of the kitchen and a few feet from the dining room table. I could see myself sitting there and writing.

  “Would you like a seat?” Alec asks as he catches me staring at the window seat.

  “Oh, no, I’m fine here,” I say. Tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear, I try to shake off this awkward feeling, but it won’t go away.

  “Relax,” Alec says, setting down the knife and walking to the sink. He washes his hands as he talks over the sound of the faucet running. “As you can imagine, snow-ins aren’t so uncommon here,” he tells me.

  I watch his broad shoulders move as he dries his hands off and checks the thermometer of the oven. As he does, the beep goes off letting him know it’s up to temperature.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. It’s so obvious I’m uncomfortable, and I don’t want him to think I’m ungrateful.

  He picks up a cherry tomato from the small pile on the counter and tosses it into his mouth, turning to face me and leaning against the island.

  “I understand this is different and I have to confess, I’m partially to blame.”

  My eyes whip up to his, and I’m not sure how to respond.

  “To blame?” I echo. My blood heats with the way he looks at me.

  “I may have requested that you be the one to come here,” he says and then reaches over and takes another cherry tomato between his fingers. He holds my gaze as he pops it into his mouth. The action is sensual in a way, but threatening as well.

  I take a breath, trying to keep it even. Trying not to let what he’s just admitted affect me.

  As if reading my mind, Alec smiles, chewing and swallowing the tomato slowly with his hands raised in the air. When he’s finished with it he lets out a small laugh that lightens the mood. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.” His eyes sparkle with something they haven’t before, an easiness and humor that make him seem less dominating and intimidating. “I just wanted you to know that I hadn’t planned on this,” he gestures to the window. “But I did want to meet you,” he adds as he cocks a brow at me and then turns to the counter, moving the chicken to a tray and slipping it into the oven.

  “I read a few of your articles. You’re a talented writer, and you’re attractive. You can’t blame me for wanting you to be the one to conduct the interview,” he says, closing the oven door. He turns to me and adds, “Maybe I could even take you on a date?” He raises his hands again, palms out and says, “No pressure. I just thought you may enjoy seeing the town and taking a tour.”

  “We’re snowed in,” I answer him with the obvious response, not sure how to react to this man.

  My body is on fire at the thought of him wanting me. Just the fact he’s interested in me is driving adrenaline through my blood. At the same time, I’m easy prey for him. Someone for him to use up and spit out. I’m practically trapped in his home. I take in a heavy breath, hating how the last thought somehow makes me even hotter.

  “Not tonight, but perhaps tomorrow if the weather lets up?” He takes a few steps closer to me.

  “I would enjoy that,” I answer politely and then grip the back of the island chair and pull it out so I can take a seat.

  “You just need to relax, Lila,” Alec says as he walks over to a carved cherry liquor cabinet, pulling out two bottles of wine, one red and the other white. “Usually I would have white, considering the meat,” he says, reading the labels of each bottle before peeking up at me. “But which would you prefer?”

  “Whichever you’d like,” I answer, not really caring which one he’ll choose. The tables have turned, and as my fingers twine around one another I have to remind myself that I’m leaving in a few days. That this isn’t really a date. Although it damn sure feels like it, and he’s said he’s interested in me.

  It would be a mistake. I watch as he grabs a bottle opener. A beautiful mistake.

  He opens the bottle of white easily, pouring one glass and then another. They clink together as he picks them up in one hand and takes the seat next to me.

  He places the glasses down on the counter and passes mine to me, simply sliding it across the counter as if it’s an offering. I can’t help but let out a small laugh. He smiles in response, a handsome smile that makes my fingers itch to touch the stubble along his jaw.

  “You’re very handsome, Mr. Kulls.” I finally give in to a bit of my desire, and pick up the glass of wine, holding on to it for support in this decision.

  His grin widens and he leans forward just slightly to say, “Alec, Lila. My name is Alec to you.” He pauses for a moment, then flashes me a smirk and adds, “Unless of course you’d like to scream 'Mr. Kulls' in bed?”

  My face heats instantly as he rises from his seat to attend to the beeping oven and he's quick to say, “I do believe Alec may be easier.”

  The sweet wine touches my lips and the taste is delicious, but I can’t think of anything other than this man on top of me, making me scream as he thrusts inside of me repeatedly.

  “I think you’ve maybe thought a little too far ahead, Mr.- Alec,” I’m quick to correct myself. I watch as he works in the oven, turning the chicken breasts and then setting the tongs back down on the counter before coming back to his seat.

  “Mmm, that could be,” he says picking up his glass, but not sitting. I cross my ankles and turn in my seat to face him.

  “This isn’t very professional,” I tell him with a serious look, or at least the most serious I can manage. He shrugs his shoulders and then takes a sip from his glass.

  “Do you want it to be?” he asks and then adds, “That’s fine if you do. I understand the attraction may only be on my end.”

  My heart thumps hard in my chest. I don’t think this man knows how to be subtle. He’s honest and to the point. But I admire that.

  “It’s definitely not just one-sided,” I admit, and then bite my tongue. I'm thinking I should add that this is dangerous for me. I could lose my j
ob. More than that though, this man could crush me. I’ve never had a one-night stand because I know I don’t really do casual. I’ve been wined and dined and then thrown away before. It hurts too much.

  I don’t recover easily, and I prefer to avoid relationships. But it’s been so long since I’ve been touched.

  Alec’s deep voice rumbles, “That’s good to know.” I don’t think a man has ever looked at me with the same level of desire. It’s tempting and frightening all the same.

  “So, tomorrow?” he asks me, and my brow furrows with confusion.

  “Tomorrow?” I repeat.

  He smiles at me, and the smell of his cologne, or maybe his natural scent hits me with a powerful force that makes me lean in closer to him.

  “Would you like to go out with me tomorrow?” he asks.

  His gray eyes swirl with a mixture of desire and something else--a desperate need. I nod my head slowly and say, “I’d love to.”

  Lila

  My eyes pop open as I hear Alec in the kitchen. My bare feet pad on the wooden stairs and I clutch his white dress shirt I’m wearing tighter. His. I’m fucking mortified.

  I hardly slept, even with a stomach full of hot food and delicious wine. I was this close to sleeping with Alec, to kissing him and making a fool of myself last night. I don’t know what came over me.

  Nothing has been normal about the last two days.

  And I don’t know what to expect today. Or where to find my clothes. We didn’t have sex; I know that much. I’m fairly sure I asked for a dress shirt to sleep in. Specifically, a dress shirt, because that’s an obvious choice to sleep in.

  I roll my eyes and try not to groan at the thought. This is worse than a walk of shame. I didn’t even get to have sex.

  As I turn the corner headed toward the kitchen, I spot my suitcase in an instant. The faded blue and bulky casing stands out like a sore thumb on the window seat.

  I cast a furtive glance at Alec, hoping I can sneak in and grab it, but it’s no use. He looks up at me from his laptop and says easily, “Good morning.”