by B. B. Hamel
“Aria is fine,” I say. “There’s no reason for you to take her back. We’ll finish the contract as we agreed.”
“I’m sorry, Ethan. But I’m not allowed to do that.”
“Listen, Lucille. I don’t know why you’re here. You’re giving me these vague excuses, and none of it adds up. You’re clearly lying, or at least you’re keeping something from me. So until you tell me why I should give her up, we’re done here.”
I move to stand and she sighs, holding up one hand, her eyes closed. I can tell she’s pained. She’s probably not supposed to tell me the real reason why The Syndicate wants Aria back.
It’s probably something embarrassing. The fact that Lucille is here at all is a breach of their decorum. They’re normally incredibly discreet and professional and apparently pride themselves on their efficiency. But sending Lucille here to gather up Aria and to break their contract seems like it’s very out of their character.
“Please, I’ll explain.” She looks at me with a frown on her face. “Please, sit.”
I slowly sit back down and lean toward her, elbows on my knees. “Go ahead,” I say.
“It’s her father,” Lucille admits with a sigh. “He found her. We’re not really sure how, but he’s a rich and powerful man in this city. He’s coming after us and we find it’s best if we simply return the girl to her home and move on.”
“Best for whom?” I ask, anger welling up inside of me.
“Best for everyone.”
“Not for her. Not for me.”
“Please, see reason here. The Syndicate can’t risk exposure. It would be... catastrophic. For everyone involved.”
Veiled threats and ass covering, that’s all she’s here to do. The bastards want to steal Aria away from me and to return her to her bastard father, the very man that she ran away from in the first place. I can’t imagine that her father actually wants her back, whoever he is.
There’s something else here, a piece of this puzzle that I can’t see. I don’t know what’s being held back, but I can sense it, just there, just out of my grasp.
“What’s his name?” I ask Lucille.
She pauses. “Who?”
“Her father. Who is he?”
“I can’t tell you.”
I feel a stab run down my veins. It’s a flash of insight that I only understand at a gut level. The idea isn’t even conscious yet, but I feel my blood turn to ice in my veins. Cold terror runs through me.
He’s a powerful man... the kind of man that would come after her if it suits him, not because he wants to... and her last name. I think back to that conversation that night.
My face drains of color. Lucille looks concerned. “Ethan? Mr. Locks? Are you okay?”
I grab my cup of tea and drink it down. It’s not strong enough, though. I stand and quickly walk into the kitchen where I pour myself a double whisky and slam it back.
Lucille follows me, concern clear on her face. “It’s not that bad,” she says. “The Syndicate doesn’t blame you. And her father says he’ll back down if she’s returned.”
“What’s his name?” I ask her again.
Taylor. Her last name is Taylor.
“I can’t say it. Please, don’t ask me again.”
She was born rich. Her father was an asshole.
“Say it,” I whisper. “Say his name.” I feel like I’m breaking into a thousand pieces, some angry, some confused, some willing to destroy everything to get what I want.
“His name is Taylor,” she says. “Richard Taylor.”
I feel it like a knife to my gut.
I can’t process this. I can barely think.
A new voice cuts into my mind
“Ethan?”
I look up slowly. Aria is standing in the living room a few feet from Lucille.
“What’s going on?” Aria asks.
Jenkins comes in from the back room suddenly, breathless. “I’m sorry, sir. I told her to stay in her room.” He walks quickly toward her.
“Stop,” I say to Jenkins. “Please leave.”
He pauses, looks at me, and then nods. He disappears back into the other room.
Lucille turns toward Aria. “Honey. I’m with The Syndicate. I was sent here to take you home.”
“Why?” she asks. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” she says gently. “You did nothing wrong. Something came up though. And we need to bring you back.”
“But I don’t want to go,” she says. “I want to finish my contract.” She looks at me, pleading, and I don’t understand.
“You’ll still have to come with me,” Lucille says.
“NO.”
The two women look at me, clearly surprised. I practically shouted it and I look down at the glass in my hand. My knuckles are white.
“Aria,” I say, getting some control. “Please go back upstairs.”
“But—“ She starts, but I cut her off.
“Go,” I say. “Now.”
She hesitates then turns and quickly walks away. She disappears up the staircase and out of sight.
Lucille looks back to me. “Mr. Locks, we need her. I can’t leave until she’s ready to go.”
“Get out,” I say quietly to her.
“Excuse me?”
“Get out of my house.” I feel like I’m regaining some control now, though my edges are all frayed.
“I can’t do that. I don’t think you understand.”
“I understand,” I growl at her. I walk from behind the counter and move toward her. She backs up, fear on her face at whatever she sees in my expression.
“You want to give her back to that fucking monster. And the worst part is, he doesn’t give a fuck about her. It’s just one more slap in my face.”
She tries to protest, but I hold up a hand. She continues to back down the hallway and toward the door.
“No, don’t argue with me. Richard Taylor is a piece of shit, and he won’t take this away from me. You can go back and tell your Syndicate to go fuck themselves. Aria is mine, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
She stops in front of the door and stares at me, regaining some composure. “You’re making a mistake,” she says.
“Get out,” I repeat. “You can have her back when our contract is finished.”
“Very well.” Lucille turns, opens the door, and then leaves.
I walk back into the kitchen, feeling numb. I pour myself another drink and sip it, standing in front of the sink.
The world feels like it’s filtering in through a very small keyhole. Dimly I’m aware of things, but they flit and shake through my consciousness, though nothing sticks.
What is real? How can I ever see the truth now? So much is tangled up in this. Could this have been Richard’s plan from the start?
Who is Aria Taylor?
I don’t know what’s the truth and what’s a lie as I feel myself perched on the edge of something. The only things keeping me from tipping over is anger.
Anger threatens to rip everything else apart. I won’t let Richard win, that fucking bastard. He won’t get the best of me. I won’t let a man like that win.
I don’t know who she is, but Aria doesn’t deserve it.
I clench my glass and knock the drink back, mind buzzing.
22
Aria
He doesn’t come that night or the next day. I’m not really surprised, but I don’t understand what happened back there.
When I walked into the room, he looked at me like I was a total stranger. Like I was a ghost, bursting out of a closet. He was spooked at first.
And then he was angry. I don’t understand why The Syndicate wanted to take me back. That woman didn’t explain, only said that something came up, whatever that means. But clearly Ethan wasn’t happy about it, whatever it was.
He refused to let them take me. That makes me happy, a strange sort of happiness. He defied The Syndicate, a very powerful group of people, just to keep me. That has to mean somethi
ng real is happening between us.
But the way he looked at me... it sends shivers down my spine. I don’t understand it. What did that woman say to him that made him look at me with suspicion?
When Jenkins brings my breakfast, he doesn’t say a word to me. I try and ask him questions, but he simply acts like I don’t exist. And when he leaves, I hear a click at the door, and it takes me a few seconds to realize that he locked me in.
I sit out on the balcony, eating breakfast and trying to figure out what I’m going to do. I can escape any time I want, since it wouldn’t be too hard to climb down the balcony and get to the sidewalk. But I don’t want to leave.
I want to know why he looked so disgusted with me. Maybe I can explain. Obviously it has to do with why that Syndicate woman was coming to take me back, but beyond that, I can only guess.
And so I spend the day in anxious worry. I guess that I’m being held captive, since the door is locked, but I don’t feel trapped. I know I can get away any time I want. I just don’t understand why Ethan would want to lock me in here when he knows that I won’t leave if he doesn’t want me to.
The day drags past. Jenkins brings lunch as usual and again doesn’t say a word to me. He locks the door on his way out, leaving me there to stew in my uncertainty.
I almost want to cause another scene. Ethan shouldn’t leave me here alone without talking to me, especially after what happened last night. He has to know that I’m worried as hell and afraid that something horrible just happened.
Instead, I get nothing. The hours wear past until finally, it’s dinnertime, but nothing comes. Five in the afternoon turns to six in the evening, and finally it’s half past seven before I hear the lock at the door finally click open.
I stand, dimly planning on yelling at Jenkins, but he’s not the one that walks into my room.
It’s Ethan. He pushes a meal cart and stops, wearing his usual suit. He looks at me for a second with a strange look on his face.
“Ethan,” I say, stepping toward him.
“Let’s eat inside tonight,” he says, and starts to set the table.
I frown, wanting to throw myself at him, but I can sense his discomfort. Instead, I help him put the food out. When we’re finished setting up, we both sit down. He pours himself a drink and then hands me a glass of wine.
“About last night,” I say, but he stops me with a shake of his head.
“Let’s eat.”
I frown and bite my lip then nod. I’m frustrated, but I’ll play along. I don’t want to spook him or anger him any more. I eat, and the food is good, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.
I can’t keep hanging on the edge of my seat like this. Ethan doesn’t seem particularly interested in broaching the subject. I watch him, barely picking at my food. He looks exhausted, like he didn’t sleep last night, and he eats like he hasn’t touched food in days. He doesn’t even glance at me once.
Finally, we both finish. He leans back in his seat and sips his whisky, watching me for a second.
“I’m going to ask you something,” he says. “If you lie to me, I’ll know.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” I say. “Ethan, what’s going on? What happened?”
“Did Richard Taylor send you here?”
I sit back, stunned. “My father?” I ask, genuinely surprised.
He nods. “Answer the question, Aria.”
“No,” I say softly. “I haven’t spoken with him in years.”
He watches me for a second, his face tense, before finally relaxing a little bit. He sighs and leans back in his chair. “You’re telling the truth,” he says.
“I swear. He didn’t send me here.” I shake my head. “I don’t want anything to do with him.”
“He knows you’re with me,” Ethan says, and I feel a jolt of panic in my core.
“How?” I ask softly.
“He’s been watching me for a while now.”
I narrow my eyes, confusion washing over me. “What are you talking about, Ethan?”
“Your father is Richard Taylor, real estate magnate. And I’ve been working on a deal with him to buy one of his buildings for nearly four months now.”
I suck in a breath, surprised as hell, but I shouldn’t be. This is just my luck. This is just how things work for me. My luck is horrible and never lasts no matter how much I think things are going to turn around.
It’s not that impossible. My father is one of the richest and most powerful men in the city, or at least he used to be. I’ve heard that he’s a shadow of his former self, riddled with debt and liens on his assets, but that wouldn’t stop him.
Men like my father and Ethan run in the same circles. They do deals with each other all the time. I should have guessed that Ethan at least knew my father personally, or was possibly working directly with him.
“He’s been watching me,” Ethan says softly. “Apparently he always does this. And when you threw your tantrum, I think he got pictures of you. And from there, he figured it all out.”
“Shit,” I say softly. “Ethan. Shit.
“I know.” He sighs, shaking his head. “Are you sure you’re not involved with him?”
“Yes,” I say. “I swear. I hate that man.”
“Good.” He sighs and closes his eyes before opening them and smiling slightly. I get a glimpse of the old Ethan in that moment and my heart swells. “I was worried.”
“Why?”
“Your father is currently blackmailing me with pictures of you. I was worried if he could pull off something like that, then maybe he could pull off something like...” He trails off, shrugging.
“Like planting me in your house,” I finish for him.
“Exactly.”
“He’s not a genius. He’s just a ruthless bastard.”
“I’m beginning to see that.” He stands and walks over toward the bedroom window. “I’m in a tough spot, Aria. If I don’t give in to what he wants, he’ll release those photographs.”
“So what? Let him. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know that.” He looks back at me, a rueful smile on his face. “But the public won’t care. I’m in the middle of a high profile merger and things are dicey at best right now. Any whiff of failure and things can go belly up.”
I stand and moved toward him. “I’m so sorry, Ethan. I had no clue.”
“People depend on me. A lot of people. They’re not just my employees. I’m responsible for their jobs, their livelihoods. I feed their children. I can’t just fail them.”
“But if you give in to my father, what then?”
“I don’t know. But he wants you back. That’s what he told The Syndicate, at least.”
I stop a few feet away from him, and I finally understand what he did for me last night. He refused to give me back to my father, saving me from more torture, but in doing so he defied the man with power to destroy him.
More than that, he feels like he risked his entire company for me. He thought I might have been a plant by my father, he didn’t trust me at the time, but he did it anyway.
I feel torn in half by conflicting emotions. On the one hand, I’m incredibly happy that he was willing to stand up to my father for me. It says a lot about the bond that’s building between us, and I know for a fact that it’s real. He must feel the same way, or else he wouldn’t have stepped up the way that he did.
But it also means that I’m a liability. I’m the reason he’s even in this mess. Without me, he’d be better off, and now he knows it. He can’t think about just me and him, he has to think about all of the people that depend on him, and it’s clearly tearing him apart.
I’m a liability. I’m his Achilles heel, at least where my father’s concerned. If he goes down, it’s going to be because of me.
I hate that thought. It almost makes me want to gag and throw up. It send chills down my spine and lodges a huge rock in my gut.
He looks away from me, back out the window. “So now you understand,” he
says softly. “Your father is probably watching us right now. Or at least someone that works for your father is waiting for us to slip up so he can get more pictures.”
“I should go back,” I say suddenly, blurting the words out before I can think about them.
He whirls on me. “What?”
“I should go back,” I say. “It’s the best solution. My father can’t keep me, so even if The Syndicate gives me back to him, I’ll just run away again. And right now, I’m a liability for you.”
“No,” he says forcefully. He steps toward me and takes me by the shoulders. “Do you hear me, Aria? I’m never going to give you back to that man.”
I bite my lip. “You can’t keep me from them if they want me,” I say. “They’ll come for me.”
“Let them come,” he says fiercely. “You’re mine, Aria. Do you hear me? You’re mine. They can try to take you.”
I stare into his gorgeous eyes and want to cry. For the first time in my life, I feel like someone values me above other people, and it’s an intense and strange feeling. I don’t know what to say to him, but that doesn’t matter.
Because he pulls me against him and kisses me deeply.
I return the kiss with something like hunger, maybe something like madness. It’s a frenzy and a starving blind and dumb need, and I can’t hold it back. He crushes me in his arms, in his kiss, and I feel held, protected, valued.
Slowly, he breaks the kiss off and steps away from me. “I need time to think,” he says. “I don’t know how I’m going to play this with your father.”
“Whatever I can do to help,” I say.
“Of course.” He grins at me. “Don’t worry. I’ve handled bullies before. I can handle your father.”
I nod, convinced that’s true.
He turns and walks past me and toward the door. I watch him go with something like admiration and something like horror. I’m afraid that if he leaves now, he’ll never come back. But I can’t call out for him. I have to let him go.
He pauses and looks back at me. He smiles and nods, and then leaves the room. I stand there, breathing in and out, and finally collapse onto the couch.