Depraved (The Devil's Duet Book 1)

by Eva Charles

  “I don’t have any of that cassis here. And I didn’t steal it, I only served it to you because I wanted you to feel at home.”

  “I call bullshit. You wanted me to know you had lots of information about me.”

  He gazes at me and smirks. “Maybe a little of both.”

  “Exactly.” I look around while he opens a bottle of wine. Stamped concrete counters and floors, with exposed steel beams everywhere. The kitchen is comprised almost entirely of stone and steel. It’s sleek and cold. “I can’t believe how different this place seems from Sweetgrass.”

  He lifts a shoulder. “I don’t pay much attention to this place. It’s not home. It’s just a somewhere I come to crash now and then.”

  “A place you bring women.”

  He glances at me, but doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to.

  “Dinner will be here soon. Maybe we can talk about a few things while we’re waiting.” He hands me a glass of cabernet. “You might want to give it a few minutes to breathe.”

  I cup the balloon-shaped bowl in two hands, warming the burgundy liquid gently. “Do you have a contract?” I ask dispassionately, sitting back on the stool like I’m a sophisticated player in the world of raunchy sex.

  His face twists in confusion. “A contract? No.”

  “I thought these sorts of relationships always had contracts?”

  Sparks shimmer in his eyes, and his mouth quirks at the corner. “Ahhh, a contract.” JD scratches the back of his head. “I don’t believe relationships between men and women need contracts.” He studies me for a minute, tipping his head to the side. “Do you want a contract?”

  I have no idea what I want. I’m just probing to get some sense of what he wants from this relationship. I shrug. “What about a safe word?”

  “You don’t need a safe word. I’ll never let things get that far.”

  “Really? Weren’t you in my apartment yesterday? I’m short one camisole.”

  “It was never out of control. At least I wasn’t.”

  Right. I pull my shoulders back and hold my head high. “I had a safe word at sixteen, and I want one now. I insist. And—and I fully expect you to respect it.”

  “Fine. Choose one. Something easy to remember.”

  I think for a minute. “Wilderness.”

  He swallows hard, and empties the wine into a swan-shaped decanter. The glass swan is delicate with a graceful neck and outspread wings, like it’s about to take flight. It has more movement than JD does right now. His entire body is rigid, and his face is blank. I’d give anything to know what he’s thinking.

  Wilderness is the stable where we played. Where we first discovered the wondrous, dark side of sex. Where I caught him playing those same games with someone else. It’s the perfect word to signify he’s gone too far, because that’s where he went too far. Too far with Jane—too far with me. Maybe we both went too far. The symbolism is scathing, and I know by his demeanor, he thinks so, too.

  “I don’t plan on giving you anything you can’t handle. But use it, if you need to.” JD comes over and cradles my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. He blinks a couple times. His long dark lashes cast spiky shadows on his cheeks. “Of course, I’ll respect it. You can trust me, Gabrielle. It might not seem like it, but you can.”

  More than anything, I want to believe it’s true. I want to trust him, again. “I do trust you—to some extent. Probably more than I should. But don’t expect me to hand over my complete trust. Again. It’s just not possible.”

  “Because you found me fucking that girl? Fifteen years ago? It meant nothing. She didn’t make a goddamn ripple.”

  “No, not just because of what happened in the past.” Although the image of you with her is imprinted on my soul. It still makes my heart ache. It’s not a crushing pain anymore, just an open sore that scabs over, but never fully heals.

  I jerk my head away from his grip. “There are the lies you’ve been telling me, the games you’re playing, the secrets you keep. And that girl? Jane? Don’t you dare say it was nothing. It was everything. That, and having your father send me away after I discovered you with her—it nearly destroyed me.”

  His face twists in agony, the pain and sorrow I see there is breathtaking. But I don’t allow it to cow me. “I want the truth about what happened then, and about what’s really going on now. I know all about the irrevocable trust. You have nothing on me.”

  He doesn’t flinch. And he certainly isn’t surprised. Confusion begins to creep up my spine, followed closely by anxiety, with fury taking up the tail. “You know. You know they told me. You knew it all along.” I’m shaking inside, but my voice is oddly calm.

  He nods. “I promised to make a donation if your mother is treated well. There’s a lot of money at stake for them. The hospital lawyer called me first thing Monday morning after your visit. Told me the caseworker had divulged too much information.”

  I’m vulnerable. Exposed. Embarrassed—I was sure I had the upper hand—that I knew something he didn’t. “When you first came to the hotel, you were prepared to trick me into having sex with you. To rape me.”

  “No!”

  “Yes,” I whisper. “That’s exactly how civilized societies refer to sex with dubious consent. You were trying to blackmail me into having sex with you.”

  He empties his beer with a long steady pull. I watch his throat ripple. He drops the empty bottle into a bin under the sink. “It’s not that simple. Not anywhere near that simple. But yes, I was prepared to mislead you, or to do anything else I needed to do to keep . . .” He stops abruptly, without ever finishing the thought. “But you decided to play along, and saved me from my worst instincts. Saved us both.”

  He always wins. I bury my face in my hands, and feel the small fissures lengthening inside me, crisscrossing over one another, until the tiny cracks have spread everywhere. One more assault, no matter how small, and I’ll shatter into millions of jagged pieces.

  There’s no anger inside me. I’m sure it’ll come, but right now, I’m just sad and broken. “This entire week I thought—I thought you didn’t know the case manager told me about the trust. I thought I had some power over you. Some control over this situation. Over my circumstances. My life.”

  His back is against the counter, his hands gripping the etched lip, watching me cautiously.

  I sit in silence, my elbows propped on the cold stone, my mouth resting on my clasped knuckles, trying to understand all of it. Trying to come to grips with my sheer stupidity. “I never had any control. I had nothing. I was just a fool playing right into your hands.”

  “No.” He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest. “You’ve always had the power. The real power. All of it. Always, Gabrielle. That hasn’t changed.” He squeezes me tighter, until my cheek is nestled against his beating heart. It’s a sound that once soothed me, but not today. Today it’s just noise.

  I try to pull away, but he holds me tighter still, with one hand on the side of my head, his fingers massaging my scalp gently. “Trust me. You’ve got to. So much depends on it.” He swallows hard. So hard it seems almost painful. “Then I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

  JD’s voice is heavy with emotion. The words emerge thick and uneasy. A strangled plea. A desperate prayer into the wind.

  His heart is pounding, a strong and steady gallop. This is as humble as I’ve ever seen him. As close to begging as JD has ever come with me. I wrestle with the feelings inside, trying to make sense of something that makes no sense. Sorrow, betrayal, and—yes, love—it’s there too, stirring the pot.

  There’s also fear—fear of the unknown. Fear of the fate that awaits me. It’s as though I’m swimming in quicksand on a cold, starless night, the baying wolves circling, with no help in sight.

  I pull out of his arms and off the stool, cupping my elbows as I contemplate the weight of his words. Trust me. How can I possibly trust you, JD? How?

  I begin to pace, while he continues to negotiate. “
Gabrielle. Trust me. For a little while, and then you can have anything you want. I’ll never bother you again.”

  As I turn over his words, a ray of light peeks through, and my sluggish brain begins to stretch, and churn. It starts slow but then whirs faster and faster until the thoughts are pinging off my skull. His pleas now nothing more than background din. Maybe he took the keys to frighten me into trusting him. Maybe it’s a setup.

  “I never found my keys last night. And today, when I left a meeting at City Hall, my tires were flat, all four of them.” The blood drains from his face. “Someone removed the pins from inside, so they deflated without making a sound. When I got into the car to wait for the tow truck, the missing keys were on the passenger seat.”

  He’s deathly calm. “You’re just telling me this now?” His voice is icy, and it’s shed all pretense of prayer. I can tell from his reaction that he knows nothing of the missing keys, and I’m relieved. So relieved. That would have been the last straw for me.

  “Did you call the police?”

  “Mmhm. They think it’s a teenage prank. They also think I misplaced the keys inside the car.”

  He nods. But he doesn’t look convinced.

  “Does this have anything to do with the secrets you’re keeping from me?”

  “I don’t know. Flat tires? Probably not.” He squeezes the back of his neck. “But I need you under my protection while I figure it out.”

  “Under your protection?” Any excuse to control me, right JD? “You must be kidding.”

  He grabs hold of my upper arms to make his point. “Do I look like I’m fucking kidding?”

  I swallow. No. No, he doesn’t. He looks furious, and scared. I might have even caught a sliver of terror in his eyes. But JD doesn’t get scared, and he’s not terrified of anything. That’s not how he’s built. He grabs danger by the neck and spits in its ugly face, before he slashes its throat. I’ve watched him do it more times than I can count.

  Gooseflesh has taken over every inch of space on my arms, and the hair at the back of my neck is at attention. It’s not the flat tires and mysterious keys that have made me afraid, my body is reacting to his fear. Maybe you need to listen, Gabrielle. Just listen to what he has to say.

  “What exactly does under your protection mean? I’m not leaving the hotel if that’s where you’re headed with this.”

  “You can stay for now, unless there are any more bizarre occurrences. But you need security.”

  “I have security.”

  “Real security. The kind that will actually keep you safe. They’ll disappear into the background. You won’t even know they’re around. I have it. My brothers have it. It’s not a big deal.”

  It’s a big deal to me. I have a hotel to run, and a Christmas brunch to plan. “No.”

  He holds up his hand to stop me. “It’s non-negotiable. You’re getting it with or without your consent.”

  We’ll see about that. “Yes, of course, because you would never let a small matter like consent get in your way.” He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t react in any discernable way. I try a different approach. “The police weren’t all that concerned. Let’s not get carried away.”

  “My father’s the president-elect. There are a lot of bad people in the world.”

  “What does this have to do with me?”

  “We’re connected.”

  “Then maybe we should disconnect.” It’s flippant, and I don’t mean it. Not one word.

  “Too late.”

  “I don’t get it, JD.”

  “If someone wanted to hurt me, or wanted to pressure me in some way, they might hurt you.”

  “It’s been less than two weeks. Who could know about us? No one.”

  “Don’t bet on it.”

  “You clearly believe someone letting the air out of my tires was more than a prank.”

  “And the keys?” He scratches his temple. “I don’t know. Not yet. But you can be damn sure I’ll find out.”

  “If you knew about the potential for trouble—if you knew someone might use me to get to you—why would you drag me into something like this? Why?”

  He fills his chest with air, and blows it out in a resigned whoosh. “Had I known, I would have never touched you.” His voice is filled with pain. His face. His eyes. All of it, heavy with remorse and sorrow. “I was young and stupid, and you were beautiful and sweet. I never stood a chance.”

  My heart clenches, and I will away the tears stinging the back of my eyes. “It’s someone who knows about the past?”

  “I’ve already said more than I should.” His face is lined with worry, his shoulders uncharacteristically slumped. I can almost see the weight on his back.

  “The Christmas brunch is the most important thing that’s happened to the hotel since it opened. If I increase security, people will notice. They’ll ask questions and jump to conclusions. I want everyone to be safe, but I can’t have you going off half-cocked.”

  “No one will notice the uptick in security. It will mainly be your own personal detail, anyway. The changes at the hotel will be subtle.” His gaze is hard. “I have a responsibility to protect you, but you have a responsibility to protect your guests and employees.”

  “Cheap shot, JD.”

  “Maybe. But it’s true.”

  “Fine. I’ll try the security. See what it’s like. But if it’s too—”

  “Good.” He nods. “It’ll be so much easier on everyone if you cooperate.” He hands me a mini iPad. “I need to make a quick call. Why don’t you sift through my Spotify playlists, and see what you like.” Before he leaves, he slides a thumb across my cheek. “It’s going to be fine, Gabrielle. You’ll be safe with Smith’s team looking after you.”

  I’m not sure which of us it’s meant to reassure.

  “I’ll be right back,” he says, striding out of the kitchen.

  “I’m not agreeing to anything,” I call after him, as he disappears into a room at the end of the hall. “It’s a trial run. That’s all.”

  When the door clicks shut, I turn away, propping a hip against the cool counter. This is crazy. I gather my hair into a ponytail at the base of my neck, and grip it in my fist, sliding my closed hand over the length to smooth the waves, pulling gently until the end.

  JD’s paranoid. Overprotective—call it what you want. Possessive and jealous, too, but that’s another matter. To some extent, he’s always been that way when it comes to me, but after his mama died, he sometimes took the safety concerns to extraordinary lengths. And now, it seems like he’s upped his game.

  I’ve always thought the excessive smothering was related to his mother and Sera’s deaths. It’s a common reaction to that kind of trauma. Some events leave such a deep impression on us, they stunt our ability to react logically under particular circumstances. Instead, we react from somewhere inside us bubbling with primitive emotion. Like Georgie, who worries she’ll die after giving birth just like her mother and aunt died. No amount of logical reasoning can put her mind at ease. It’s the same way with JD. The security he’s insisting on is just another way to keep me safe from the boogiemen he conjures. And to keep any interested men at bay—but that’s just a bonus.

  I rustle through my purse until I locate my phone. I check for messages, but there’s nothing pressing to distract me from the little voice in my head that’s hell bent on being heard.

  What are you doing, Gabrielle? Why are you still here?

  You want this. That’s why. The lies, the secrets, the manipulation. Tell yourself anything you’d like. Justify it in any way you wish, but you want this—every second of it, in all its fucked-up glory. If it involves him, you want it. No matter how much it hurts, or how many scars it leaves. You love him. Admit it. You’ve always loved him. And you always will.

  I scroll through the playlists looking for something that matches my mood, until I land on Gaga. Yep, this is just right.

  I love him. I do. All his crazy, and all of mine. Somehow it works—exce
pt when it doesn’t.

  It’s all true. Nothing could drag me from here. I’ll be careful, I assure myself. I’ll be smart this time. I’m older, tougher. My eyes are wide open now. It’ll be okay. I know it’s all a huge lie, but I swallow it. Every single word.

  18

  Gabrielle

  JD comes back to the kitchen with two bags of food, plops them on the counter, and reaches for the iPad to change the music. “Jesus, Gabrielle, Bad Romance, really?”

  “It seemed like a good night for some Gaga. Stop looking at me like that, it was on one of your playlists.”

  “Yeah, well I have no idea how it got there.”

  “Maybe you should stop handing off your iPad to random women,” I tell him, putting out dinner. “I noticed that there’s nothing on that iPad but music.”

  “You looked?”

  “Of course I looked.” He pins me with a sharp gaze. “What, you wouldn’t have looked? Please.”

  JD tops off my wine and grabs another beer from the refrigerator. We sit at the tall center island, elbow to elbow, Petty playing softly in the background. “Let’s start the evening over,” he says. “Put the last thirty minutes aside for an hour or two. Can you do that?”

  I nod, and he blows out a long breath. “So what else did you learn on the dark web?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Isn’t that where you read about contracts and power exchanges?”

  I smile, a small wistful smile. “I learned about those things a long, long time ago, in a place not so far away.”

  I gaze at him. He’s sullen and grim. And I can’t stand it. “What else did I learn on the dark web?” I ask it in a light, playful voice, that sounds only minimally forced, hoping to coax something resembling a smile from him. “Let’s see. Should I call you sir?”

  The corners of his mouth twitch and curl. And the stress slides off his shoulders, at least for a few minutes. He glances sideways at me, and his chest begins to heave with raucous laughter. It’s a glorious sound, and I start to laugh, too.