All of Nothing

by Vania Rheault

  “But guests don’t—” Grace stopped, then pressed her lips together.

  “This is the first day she hasn’t taken a meal in her room, ma’am. I didn’t think it would hurt,” Mariah said, breaking the silence.

  “It doesn’t matter now, but she will need to learn to be comfortable in a more formal environment. I suppose there’s time enough for that.” Grace blew out a breath. “Are you ready to go?” she asked Raven as Mariah started doing dishes in a large white sink.

  “Actually, Mrs. Brooks, I’ve changed my mind.”

  “You don’t want to go shopping? Jax told me you needed clothes. I booked spa time.”

  Grace’s scrutiny told her she needed it.

  Raven tried to hold on to the anger so the tears burning her throat wouldn’t make it to her eyes. “I’ve decided I need to go . . . home.” Dammit. Grace knew she didn’t have one. Raven dried her palms on the smooth material of the leggings. “I just need my old clothes back,” she said, though her chances of them being returned to her were slim to none.

  Eyes softening, with something Raven would have called understanding if she hadn’t known better, Grace stepped farther into the warm kitchen, leaving behind a trail of melted snow Mariah would need to mop away.

  Raven hadn’t considered how much work she’d cause for everyone; how much time people would need to spend on her. She’d only wanted to make Jax pay for the callous way he’d treated her in the church, and after, making her scramble after fluttering dollars like a desperate whore.

  She wanted to forget she ever met Jaxon Brooks, forget any of this ever happened.

  Run back to Elle’s.

  Run back to Damien’s.

  To anywhere that felt familiar.

  Grace leaned against the granite counter and drummed her manicured nails against the surface. “Let’s get you some clothes before you decide anything rash. If, by the end of the day, you still want to leave, I’ll have Justin bring you wherever you want to go, and I’ll tell Jax you gave me the slip. Deal?”

  She wouldn’t change her mind. “Deal.”

  Chapter 5

  Raven sat in the back of a long black car with Grace while the driver stared straight ahead at the empty road that turned out to be Jax’s mansion’s driveway. Without trying to gawk, Raven took in the acres and acres of land Jax’s home sat on. It would take her all day to make it to the city on foot.

  By the time they reached the city and the large shopping center, Raven’s skin prickled with sweat from motion sickness and the faint scent of a perfume she couldn’t name still clinging to the cream and gray parka Jax had set aside for her to wear.

  “You’re free to do as you like,” Grace told Justin, twisting in her seat, a boot resting on the sidewalk outside Bloomingdale’s. “We’ll be a while.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, with a small smile.

  Raven wondered what the driver would do with his free day. It would be boring to be a driver, just sitting there, waiting on people’s whims. But it wasn’t any different, really, than being homeless. On the streets, Raven always had somewhere to wait. Waiting in line for a bed at the shelter, and then waiting for a shower if she was lucky. Waiting in line for clothes, or food, or some other handout. The only time she felt free was at the club with Axel if she already secured a place to sleep for the night, or when she popped her head into Elle’s salon.

  “Raven.”

  She opened the car door, and sucked in the fresh wet air to calm her nerves. Snowflakes the size of cotton balls floated from the sky.

  Grace led her inside the shiny department store. “This way. Spa first. Jax gave me carte blanche.”

  Raven twisted her hands. It sounded so ominous; Grace could do whatever she liked, but this was what Raven wanted.

  Five minutes later, Raven was being pushed down into a stylist’s chair, and a slim man with a stubby ponytail trailed his fingers through her snarls.

  Elle usually did her hair. Raven liked the pitch black and the colored streaks Elle experimented with.

  “Too dark,” he declared. “It washes out her face.” He spoke to Grace, knowing who was in charge.

  Grace nodded, her coat draped over her arm, her purse hanging from the crook of her elbow. “I agree. Her skin is pallid, but that will change with regular meals.”

  The stylist gave Grace a look out of the corner of his eye but didn’t comment.

  Raven knew what he was thinking. Who didn’t have regular meals? Not anyone this stylist met.

  “I like the black,” she said.

  The stylist shoved his hands onto his hips. “This is not your natural color.”

  Raven flushed.

  “Dark brown.” He glared at Raven. “Highlights around her face.”

  “Then a wax job, everywhere, but be careful, she has some scrapes that are still healing. Mani, pedi. Give her a massage. This poor girl has probably never had one. No alcohol. Perrier, coffee, or tea.”

  The stylist secured a plastic sheet around her. “She’s in good hands. Don’t worry about a thing.”

  Grace treated him to a dazzling smile. “I won’t.”

  Grace didn’t come back for nearly four hours.

  Raven’s hair was now the color it had been in high school. Dark, but not black, and that subtle difference made a significant one to her complexion.

  The stylist had also cut off many inches, giving her a sleek angular lob, but, dismayed at the loss of length, Raven hadn’t been in any position to complain. After the cut and dye, she sat under a hair dryer with conditioner in her hair.

  Her muscles felt like jelly after an hour-long full-body massage, and her legs, and the area between them, burned from the wax job. She hadn’t been given a razor in the bathtub yesterday, and now she knew why. At first, she thought it was to keep her from inflicting self-harm, but other plans had been made for her, even then.

  The woman who’d done her wax job had waxed her eyebrows, too, though she’d left them full and beautifully arched.

  The makeup artist had highlighted her cheekbones, and lipliner made her lips just a bit fuller.

  Her feet were smooth after a pedicure, and as the woman painted her toenails a demure pink, Raven thought back with regret to the mother/daughter days she’d spent with her mom.

  While she’d been getting made over, Grace had been hard at work with a personal shopper choosing every piece of clothing Raven would need for any occasion.

  Now, trying on clothes, her thin frame worked with her—fashionably thin. Not sickly thin.

  Funny how that worked.

  “For the tutors, for the classes, parties,” Grace announced, shoving her into a fitting area that couldn’t accurately be called a stall. Damien’s whole apartment could fit into the space that held a mini dais in front of a three-sided mirror.

  “Why are you doing this?” Raven asked, standing in front of the mirror dressed in tights and a sweater dress colored a deep purple.

  She barely recognized herself.

  Grace hadn’t accurately been able to guess her size with some things, and she sent the personal shopper to replace a few clothing items, leaving them alone.

  There had to be another way for Jax to force her hand, rather than spend thousands of dollars on her. People divorced all the time—whether they wanted to or not.

  Jax possessed all the power in the world. If he wanted a divorce without her cooperation, he could have one. Yet he chose to go along, and even ask his mother for help.

  Grace stood from the plush loveseat she’d been sitting on while Raven tried on clothes, drinking a frothy cappuccino. She set the huge porcelain cup onto the matching saucer and lowered herself onto the top step of the dais.

  “Jax told me what happened.”

  Grace changed into a completely different person. Her shoulders sagged, and all the sparkle left the woman’s demeanor. Suddenly, the overhead lights were not kind to the middle-aged woman, and her glow turned to sallowness in an instant.

  “Wh
at did he say?” Raven asked, wanting to know the lies he told his mother.

  “All of it,” Grace said, squeezing the bridge of her nose between her eyes. “Gwen. The church. Looking for you and the time it took.”

  “Oh,” Raven murmured, surprised. He’d told her the truth. “I wondered how Jax pulled off the wedding.”

  Grace looked up at Raven, and the woman’s position unsettled her. Grace should be looking down on her, not the other way around. For so long, Raven had been looked down upon by other people for being homeless. But no one asked her why. Not until Jax had yesterday. Most people thought she was lazy, or stupid, or bipolar, schizo. Mentally unstable. Jax hadn’t called her that, exactly, not like it was something that defined her. He’d said it like she was afflicted with it. Or suffered from it. Like there was a reason she was the way she was.

  And now his mother was looking up at her.

  She didn’t like it.

  Raven sat on a step lower than Grace, and though it didn’t make Raven that much shorter than the elegant lady who’d taken her under her wing at her son’s request, it put Raven in a more comfortable position.

  “We knew you weren’t Gwen. Me. Jax’s father. Even Pastor Clark. Erik let us know. You resemble her—your height, your coloring. It was quite easy, in fact, for Jax to do what he did. You wouldn’t have fooled anyone at the reception, of course, but Jax took care of that.”

  “Why are you here now? Why go along with this? Jax has the money and power to make me do anything he wants.”

  Grace ran her hands along the sides of her French twist, then fiddled with a diamond stud. “I feel I can be honest with you, Raven. Can I?”

  “Of course.” The better for her to know what was really in store for her if she stayed. And that was a big if. Raven was getting a small taste of what it would be like in Jax’s world, and she didn’t like it.

  Sitting up straighter, Grace said, “When Jax explained what was going on, what lengths he’d gone to find you, there was something, Raven. Something in his eyes I haven’t seen for a very, very long time. It gave me hope.”

  Raven wanted to scoff, but held her tongue. There would never be anything between her and Jax besides revulsion and hate on his part, and disdain and loathing on hers.

  “There’s nothing between Jax and me,” she said, as the personal shopper came back, her arms laden with garments.

  “I’d never spend the day with Lucia; I don’t like her. She’s a greedy shrew. He’s marrying the wrong woman this time,” Grace said.

  Raven smiled a little. She liked Grace, but she doubted Grace’s opinion mattered to Jax.

  “Let’s find a late lunch,” Grace suggested after Raven changed into new boots, skinny jeans, and a dark chestnut-colored turtleneck sweater.

  “But what about—”

  “We’ll have everything delivered,” Grace said, rising from the step and picking up her purse. “A Brooks pays for convenience.”

  Raven stood in front of the mirror and took in the woman standing on the dais. Her parents would let this woman into their home. This stylish woman, standing in leather boots and jeans that cost more than what Jax had thrown at her after dumping her on the sidewalk, would be welcome. She was the picture of sophistication and grace. But was she a convenience to the Brooks’ family? Or an inconvenience?

  Lifting her chin and gathering her courage, Raven decided to find out.

  As promised, Mariah greeted her when Grace brought her back to Jax’s house. It seemed silly to call it a house, because the size demanded a more proper description, but it sounded stupid to keep calling it a mansion.

  She’d never been in a house of this size, and Raven had gotten turned around more than once while Mariah gave her the tour.

  Thick, heavy curtains blocked out most of the natural light, and as the tour went on, Raven felt like she was being led through a dark, stuffy museum.

  Mariah showed her the library as promised, and she waited patiently while Raven chose enough books to keep her occupied in her room for quite some time. Watching TV was not her usual hobby. Even before her parents kicked her out, reading had been her preferred form of entertainment. Sometimes, just to have somewhere to go, something to do, Raven would go see a movie at a little rundown theater near Z Avenue, but she wouldn’t use the TV in her room alone.

  Mariah brought up a dinner tray a short time later, and Raven dug in, famished. Halfway through the meal she wondered if she hadn’t been invited to dinner, or if Jax wasn’t home. She didn’t see Erik much anymore, but she couldn’t expect him to visit all the time, and she hoped Jax hadn’t told him to stop spending time with her. Erik didn’t seem the type to listen to what Jax said, though. Work must be keeping him busy, and Raven winced when she had to admit she hadn’t asked him what he did for a living.

  She didn’t know what Jax did, either. All she knew was he had money to burn, and she should be thankful for it.

  Raven had just turned out her light and burrowed into her bed when someone knocked lightly on her door. She slipped out of bed wearing the same nightgown she’d worn the night before. Grace had chosen numerous nightgowns and sleep sets for her at Bloomingdale’s, but nothing had been delivered.

  When she opened the door, she was surprised to find Jax on the other side, leaning against the wall, waiting for her. “Hi,” she said, her heart pounding. The sight of him would never fail to intimidate her. His short blond hair held in place with product, the hard glint in his eyes. The stubble along his jaw. The impressive width of his shoulders tapering into narrow hips. Jax wore a tux, the bowtie untied and hanging around his neck. That answered her question—he hadn’t been home for dinner.

  “My mother said shopping went well.”

  “She okayed a lot of clothing,” Raven admitted.

  “I wouldn’t have expected anything less,” Jax said, pushing away from the wall. “Your lessons begin tomorrow at one. You’ll meet your tutor in the library. Don’t be late. He charges by the hour, and any minute you waste is a minute I have to pay for. Tomorrow night we’re going to dinner.”

  “We?” Raven asked.

  “Yes. You and me. You will have the clothing to dress for an evening out in the city, and you need to start learning social graces—at least, I’m assuming that was part of your plan?” he asked.

  Raven wanted an education, at least her GED. Finding classes to attend while she lived on the streets was next to impossible. There were several places that offered GED classes, some of them free if she didn’t have access to a voucher or scholarship, but looking how she usually did, well, places didn’t always care to help her. But manners? Etiquette? Even if she could completely turn her life around, she’d never be able to afford to eat at the kind of place Jax would take her, so what did it matter if she knew how to behave in a restaurant of that caliber? Still, if he was willing to teach her which fork to use when, she should let him.

  “Okay.”

  “You’ll need a cocktail dress. I’m sure my mother bought you several and explained the difference between a cocktail dress and an evening gown. Dress appropriately and do your makeup. I’d bet a paycheck my mother bought you plenty of that, too. Actually, it probably did cost me a paycheck.” He scowled. “I’ll meet you downstairs at eight o’clock. I have dinner reservations for eight-thirty.”

  “Okay,” she said again, but a pit formed in her stomach. She didn’t have any clothing but for the new outfit she’d worn home. Gwen’s clothing disappeared, and in the middle of shopping, Raven forgot all about the other woman’s clothes. But this didn’t seem like a thing to mention to Jax, and she let him walk away from her.

  “Oh, by the way,” he said, flicking a glance at her over his shoulder, “I like your hair. It suits.”

  It was the kindest thing he’d said to her, and even after she’d fallen back into bed, her mouth hung open from shock.

  Jax waited in the foyer, pacing back and forth, occasionally looking at his watch. She wasn’t late, he was early, just to
get away from Lucia who was angry he was taking Raven to dinner.

  “Let your brother do it,” she’d suggested, which made him bristle.

  He’d seen to it his brother had other things to do. Erik had worked at Titan since Jax opened the doors to his first paying customer, but lately he’d grown soft. In retaliation, he’d given Erik a large project to oversee that had taken him out of state. Erik accused Jax of not wanting him around Raven, and Lucia’s comment grated on his nerves.

  “He’s not here. If you were around more, I could have told you I sent him to Seattle to head the Waterson project. I told them they would have to deal with Erik, or no one. They took Erik.”

  Lounging in bed, Lucia sniffed.

  “I would think you would look more favorably upon the company that keeps you in the lifestyle of which you’d like to stay accustomed,” he said smoothly, choosing a tie from his armoire.

  “I don’t like you spending time with her.”

  Jax chose a tie and slid it under his collar. He sat on the edge of their bed and ran a hand up Lucia’s bare leg. Having a rare evening with no plans, she wore a satin robe and nothing else. “You don’t have to worry about that.” His hand trailed up her thigh, and musk radiated from between her legs.

  She widened her knees, just a millimeter, and Jax grazed her heat, wetting his fingertips before she pushed him away, clamping her legs together.

  He met her eyes and licked his fingers.

  “You could have me if you kick her out,” Lucia said, shoving a pillow between her legs, preventing him from touching her again.

  Her arousal permeated the room, and her flavor . . . she knew what she was doing, cutting him off. He would do anything she asked, except throw Raven out onto the street.

  The exchange made him hard, and he escaped their suite. If she wouldn’t fuck him, there wasn’t any reason to hang around. To punish him further for spending time with Raven, Lucia would be gone when he returned from dinner, and most likely, wouldn’t be back until sunrise, another man’s scent covering her skin.