by Maya Hughes
“Put him down,” someone shouted. My vision cleared and I was face to face with the man from the gallery opening. His face was a mask of rage. Dahlia tugged on his arm to try to get him to put me down, but even leaning her whole body into it he didn’t budge one bit. He wasn’t even wearing a coat in the freezing, nearly midnight air. My blood dripped down into his hands.
“Ivan, put him down. Please,” she said, pleading. He glanced over his shoulder at her. She had tears in her eyes and only then did he loosen his grip. I slid out of his grasp and stumbled, trying to catch myself on the ground. I righted myself and the heated conversation with Ivan drifted to my ears. He stomped off, but not before glancing back at me and letting me know just what he promised to do if I screwed with her ever again. I held my hands up in surrender. I didn’t intend on doing anything to Dahlia.
“I just wanted to talk,” I called after him. He just shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged off.
“Fuck. Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said, motioning for me to follow her. When we got back to their apartment it was the same feeling I got before. Rachel was gone. Whatever warmth and smell that existed when she was here was long gone.
Dahlia came back with a first aid kit. She snapped on a pair of black rubber gloves and cleaned my cut with alcohol. I winced and sucked in a sharp breath as she aggressively cleaned my wound. It felt like she was taking more pleasure in this act than she should when she cracked a smile at my discomfort. I took a deep breath. It was now or never. I didn’t think she wanted me to bleed all over the apartment or get her giant friend in trouble, so now was my chance to speak, with a captive audience.
“Do you know where she is?” I asked, clasping my hands together in front of me.
“Do you mean Rachel? The woman who you screwed over to destroy the life of a man who’s practically a saint? That ‘she’?” she asked, angrily jabbing at my cut with some gauze. I winced again, taking it. I deserved it. I deserved it and so much more.
“Yes, that’s who. I need to know, Dahlia. I need to know where she is. That she’s okay.”
She whipped out some butterfly bandages and started taping me back together.
“I don’t know where Rachel is.” The way she said it was funny.
“Is she safe? How can I get in touch with her?”
“I can’t tell you. She sent me a message a little while ago to let me know she’s safe.” She stared down at the bloody gauze in her hand. “You destroyed her, Killian.”
“I know,” I said, hanging my head. I knew. I knew the moment I walked into that office that I was trying to hurt her. Prove that I could put my ‘family’ first. The sonofabitch.
And I was scared. I wanted to hurt her before she could hurt me, but that backfired. More like left me a charred mess sitting in the middle of the ruins of my life.
“I had my reasons.” She glanced up, glaring at me. “Reasons that don’t justify anything, but reasons she’d probably like to hear.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that one. I’m pretty sure she’s not coming back and if she did, she wouldn’t want anything to do with you.”
I’m sure she wouldn’t. Who would? My reputation preceded me and there weren’t too many people who wanted to get mixed up with me at this point. But I needed to talk to her. I needed to explain everything. I needed her.
30
RACHEL
The fasten seatbelt sign turned off and I unbuckled my seatbelt. Home. I was back home. The phone call to tell my mom I was coming back made my palms sweat. The flight attendant opened the airplane door, and I walked past the one other row of seats and the couch running the length of one side of the jet and stood in the open door. The freezing fresh air whipped past me as I took the three steps down to the tarmac. A black SUV sat a few feet away and Charles stood by the door. He opened it and my mom stepped out, her pristine navy tailored pantsuit fit like a glove. She took off her sunglasses and held the phone to her ear. I could hear her stern orders from there. Always the task master, ensuring the social scene was never wanting for the best event she could coordinate. Some things never changed. She ended the call and held out her arms.
I stepped into her embrace, her arms—toned from two daily hours of exercise sessions with her personal trainer—wrapped around me. I hugged her back. She smelled exactly the same. It was as if a nearly homicidal level of attention to detail and event planning could give off a smell.
“Hi Mom,” I said as I hugged her back, settling into her. It felt good to be back. The throbbing ache in my chest hadn’t dulled one bit, but I hoped in time it would. That I would recover from being in the destructive path of Killian Thorne.
“Hi, Rachel. Let me take a look at you,” she said, holding me out at an arm’s length. I could feel the disapproval radiating off her. Good to know where I stood.
“Don’t worry, dear. We can go shopping tomorrow,” she said, tucking us back into the SUV. I knew better than to argue. It looked like five to seven hours of getting caught up on all the latest fashion trends was in my future.
“Okay, Mom. Fine,” I said, defeated. I knew what coming back home meant. “And you didn’t have to send the jet.”
“Don’t start with that again. I don’t know how you fly commercial in the first place,” she said, whipping her sunglasses off. You’d have never thought my mom grew up the child of a nurse and a doctor, but she’d certainly shed those upper middle class roots for a life firmly planted in the world of the uber rich.
“It’s not that bad, Mom. Plus, it’s a lot more economical,” I said, staring out the window. From the outskirts of the city, everything whipped by. Riding through town, everything looked just the same, like it had been frozen in time while I went away, waiting for my return. It was comforting and scary at the same time. It would be like I never left. Like he never happened. Like I was before.
I slid my phone out of my pocket and turned it on. I held my breath at the sheer number of messages that popped up on the screen. Tears pooled in my eyes. Why did he have to be so hell bent on revenge? Why was it so much more important to him than what we had?
The messages were an emotional rollercoaster from sad and scared to angry and admonishing me for breaking his rules. There were a few in there from Dahlia as well. Checking in on me. My mom babbled on and on about some big events coming up and how great it would be to have me at her side throughout all of it. Just like old times.
We pulled up to the house and I went up to my room. I stood there, staring at the walls, at my bed, at everything. It was suffocating. I needed to get out. The room was just as I’d left it. The posters on the light blue walls that I’d convinced my mom were more my style over the lilac she’d been determined to use. My college textbooks lining the shelves above my small desk. It was like I never left. Like everything that happened in New York had all been a dream, or was it a nightmare? It had only been minutes and I needed to get out of there. I knew exactly where I needed to go.
I sat on the nest in my old treehouse and stared at my phone. A drip splashed against my screen before I even realized I was crying. I wiped my face with the back of my hand. I curled up, wrapping the blankets around me. My phone buzzed again and I was almost afraid to look at the screen. I finally gave in.
Dahlia: R u ok?
Me: No
Dahlia: Do you want me to mail you his balls?
My watery laugh filled my little hideaway.
Me: No, please do not remove any body parts from anyone in my absence
The phone rang in my hand.
“You said absence. Does that mean you’re thinking of coming back?” The hope in her voice made me well up again. Was I going back? Going back to what? I had no job. No one in the city would hire me. And Killian was there.
“I don’t know, Dahl.”
“What do you want me to say if he comes by here?”
“I don’t think he will. I think things were pretty well over when I left. Plus, I broke his rules.” I swallo
wed back the bile that threatened to race up my throat.
“I need you to come back. And I’m not just saying that because I won’t get your mom’s crazy care packages anymore.” I laughed and wiped my nose.
“Thanks.” The silence stretched between us.
“Just know that I miss you and I’ll do whatever you need me to do,” Dahl said, emotion heavy in her voice.
“If he comes to the apartment and that’s a big if. Just tell him I left, okay? I don’t know what I’m doing and I can’t think straight right now.”
“Done,” she said like she was ticking a checkbox. “Anything else?”
“No. We’ll talk soon.”
“We’d better.”
“Night, Dahlia.”
“Night, Rachel.”
I drifted off to sleep for a while. A fitful sleep filled with Killian’s face, his hands, his body. The hinges on the door creaked as it opened and closed. The mattress of the nest sunk by my feet.
“Sweetheart.” My mom’s gentle voice almost broke me again. Her soft hand on my foot did it though, rubbing it under the blankets. Before I knew what I was doing I had my arms wrapped around her neck and she ran her hands down my back. I was like a little kid. All this time I swore, I’d grown up. That I was doing this all on my own and all I managed to do was make a mess of everything.
“I’m sorry, I’m kind of a mess, Mom,” I said, getting my tears all over her pristine outfit.
“You’re never a mess, honey. Never.” She pushed my hair back from my face to look into my eyes. “Are you going to spill or are you going to make me guess?” I took a deep breath. All my bravado about being able to make it on my own and not wanting their help and here I was. Back in my childhood treehouse, crying against my mom’s shoulder like I was a little kid again.
“I got fired.” Starting there seemed like the safest bet.
“Thank god,” she said, her breath rushing out of her. I scrunched up my eyebrows.
“What?”
“Work troubles, I’ve got you covered, honey. For a minute, I thought maybe you’d gone and gotten your heart broken.” Her attempt at a joke only made me feel that much worse. At my crestfallen expression, she wrapped her arms around me again.
“Oh honey. It is a guy, isn’t it?”
I nodded my head against her shoulder. “Tell me everything.” And I did. I word vomited everything all over her. Not the sex stuff, because gross, but everything else. How we met. What my boss asked me to do. Everything.
“And now, I don’t know what to do. He destroyed everything I worked for. Ruined the life I built there.”
“Did he?”
“What do you mean? Of course, he did.”
“You’re always so focused on being perfect. On being the best. You got fired and you got your heart broken. Some people would call that a rite of passage. You were always so focused and determined I wondered what it would take to finally derail you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Remember in senior year of high school, when someone had the audacity to ask you to prom?”
“Yeah…”
“And what did you say to me?” I tried to remember what our conversation had been. The details eluded me.
“You said, ‘Mom, I’m not going to be some arm candy to some asshole who only asked me because he saw me all dressed up at one of your events’. You thought he asked you because he saw you at the foundation auction, but that wasn’t true. You didn’t want to believe it. You never wanted to believe in anything other than the path you were on. The plan that laid ahead for you. And I knew one day you’d get derailed. It was inevitable.”
“It didn’t have to be. I was stupid and I made a mistake.”
“So, you’re human like the rest of us. I’d hoped that you’d have made these mistakes when you were in high school or college. Gotten it out of the way. It’s a lot easier to recover from a fall when you’re younger. More resilient. You’ve always held yourself to a ridiculous standard.”
“Mom, maybe because you and Dad never held me to any standard.”
“What standard could we have held you to that was higher than your own? You need a life to balance the hard work. You need to relax and take time for yourself to find out who you are. Ups and downs are a part of life.”
“This is way more than an up or a down, Mom. This is so beyond that. I helped ruin someone’s life.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.” She had so much faith in me that it hurt. It hurt that I’d let her and myself down.
“Well, I’m going to do just what you need in a situation like this.”
“What?” I was ready for some retail therapy or whatever other silly thing she had planned for me. Maybe planning the spring charity auction.
“You’re going to come and work with me at the foundation. We’ll see how long you last, but I’m not going to let you hide out here forever,” she said, squeezing me again before climbing out of the treehouse.
My mom set up all my homecoming events in record time. There were five gallery openings, three galas, twelve luncheons, and I met with the boards of every charitable foundation in the city. I kept my work with Rhys Thayer out of it. Not that they would have known me as that woman anyway. I wasn’t Rachel, executive assistant to Rhys Thayer. I was Rachel, daughter of Alexander Halston, energy market titan and second best philanthropic event hostess to my mother. I was back, right smack dab in the middle of everything I thought I’d left behind.
31
KILLIAN
I splashed water on my face, wiping my hands over my forehead and cheeks. Examining the dark circles under my eyes, the bandage across my forehead, my healing lip. My meeting with Rhys could have gone better, but I deserved it. I deserved that and more. So much to make up for.
Reopening a literal old wound hadn’t been my idea of successful, but it looked like it helped him get out whatever rage he had inside after what I did. It was the least I could do. Let him get that out. I knew what rage did when you let it fester and simmer.
Rhys kept his positions with the charities through his thirtieth birthday and then stepped down from them all. I had no idea why, but I wasn’t going to go over there and ask.
Most importantly, Rhys’s daughter was safe. Safe from my machinations and revenge plot. I told Rhys about what happened with my mom. How I’d taken that guilt and turned it into something ugly that ate away at me over the years. I wasn’t going to say we were friends. Or even acquaintances, but I wanted him to know he didn’t have to worry about me anymore. We’d both had enough about looking over our shoulders and running from our past to last us a lifetime.
Looking at myself was a bit easier nowadays, not much, but some. Frankie warned me about the dangers of the path I was on, but I didn’t want to listen. I’d been paying for that since the day I walked into Rhys’s office ready to do battle.
My reputation was in the gutter, but when hadn’t it been? I’d never been the golden boy like Thayer. Now I just had an extra layer of grime on me that I couldn’t wipe off. My run in with him at least meant my ruthless reputation preceded me into any merger. It usually meant I got a better deal than I shot for, but I wasn’t going to pass up money on the table. Business was fine. It survived the scandal of trying to take him down. But other than that, things were a mess. The police investigation into Allan’s death was finally wrapped up. An overdose in my apartment hadn’t won me any new friends, but I didn’t think that was possible anyway. Allan slipped out of the lobby and used a set of my keys he’d stolen to get back in. That had been a man I trusted enough to try and destroy Rhys. Who might have had a shot at screwing up Rhys’s daughter. I shuddered at the thought.
Sleepless nights filled with haunting chestnut eyes, staring up at me. She was on my mind no matter what I did. I’d attempted to jump back on the horse once I realized she wasn’t coming back. I told Frankie to set up a special party. Make it big. A celebration. I showed up and picked out the most beautiful woman in attendance
. I walked her back to one of the private rooms, intending on proving to myself that nothing had changed, I was still the same guy. I could do this like I’d done it so many times before.
When she reached forward to touch me, I jumped back. I didn’t want her hands on me. I didn’t want her. I wanted Rachel. And Rachel, or whatever her name was, didn’t want to be found. I couldn’t get it up for that woman. Talk about a blow to the fucking ego. The only time I could get it up was in the shower or in bed at night. When I thought about her big doe eyes, staring at me. How wet she got for me. How she wasn’t afraid to get dirty with me. Shocking the hell out of herself and me when she truly let her guard down.
I couldn’t get Rachel out of my head. Once I realized she’d really left the city without a trace, I’d done everything I could to try to track her down, but ran into dead end after dead end. Maybe she wasn’t who she seemed to be at all. Maybe this was my penance for what I did? Sacrificing my reputation, my business to do what was right, and I’d lost her anyway. I stopped by her apartment. Sometimes Dahlia would let me in and I’d spill my guts to her and other times she wouldn’t. I’d had a couple of run ins with Ivan that hadn’t ended in bloodshed, so that was an improvement.
Dahlia was still tight lipped about where Rachel was and if she’d be back. But being at her apartment, surrounded by her things, was the closest I could get to her without her being there. I stepped out of my car and climbed the stairs to her apartment.
I knocked on the door and it swung open. Dahlia gave me a sympathetic smile. She’d warmed to me over time. Maybe showing up there bleeding from my various wounds had been a great idea. Buttered her up. Garnered me a little sympathy.
“Will you tell me?”
“No, but come on in. Your head is bleeding,” she said, letting me in and closing the door behind her. I always seemed to show up here when I needed comfort. When I needed to be around Rachel.