Claimed

by Portia Moore

  “Vincent? I’m flattered, and I know you want to keep me safe, and I’m sure April is great, but I don’t need an ‘assistant.’ Or a protector,” I tell him, trying to keep my tone whimsical.

  “This isn’t really up for discussion, Poppy. I may be required to travel a lot more than I have, and I don’t want you to be here alone. April is trained to be in the background. You’ll barely know that she’s here.” He says all of this while going to the bar and fixing himself a drink. Like this is simple, that there’s no discussion needed. I’m startled, and for a moment, I have forgotten April is even here.

  “Can we talk about this a little more in private?” I say, my voice low.

  But his face is set. “Of course, but my decision has already been made, Poppy,” he says

  dismissively.

  “April is staying at the apartment downstairs. She’ll report here tomorrow morning and go over the details with you.” My face flushes with embarrassment at how he’s talking to me in front of this woman I just met.

  “We will see you in the morning, April.” She nods to both of us before disappearing. The moment she leaves, I turn to Vincent, furious, not caring about us fighting now.

  “Vincent, you can’t talk to me like that in front of people. What do you mean none of this is up for discussion? And April doesn’t sound like an assistant but more like a watch guard.”

  “April isn’t a friend or a guest. She’s going to be working for us. I don’t keep up pretenses around my workers,” he says coldly.

  “Talking to me with respect is keeping up pretenses?” I ask him tightly, and he sighs, frustrated, before walking over to me. He encircles his strong arms around my waist and leads me to the couch.

  “Poppy, you’re so sensitive sometimes,” he says, taking off my shoes. Then he kisses me softly on the lips. Right before my eyes, he morphs back into the man I fell in love with. “You are my fiancé, Poppy, and you’re going to be my wife.” He’s undoing my pants now.

  “You’re important now. You have power, and with that comes some downsides. I just want to make sure that you are protected.” He lifts me and begins to slide my pants down, then my underwear.

  “Protected from who, Vincent?” I ask him as he spreads my thighs.

  “I don’t want you to worry about it. Just let me take care of you,” he says before diving between my thighs.

  Vincent makes love to me all night, and when I wake up, it’s almost nine the next morning. Today I want to make breakfast and really sit down with Vincent and talk. I want to make sure we’re on the same page about me going to school and really trying to understand what April’s role is, but when I head to the kitchen, April is there and I’m caught off guard. I close my open robe more tightly.

  “Good morning,” she says evenly.

  “Good morning,” I reply quietly.

  “Mr. Jamison told me to tell you that he’ll be away on business the next few days, and I’m here for anything that you may need.”

  He’s gone? Why wouldn’t he tell me he was leaving? Nothing has been settled. I’m so frustrated I can cry.

  “As Mr. Jamison told you, you’ll barely know I’m here.” She stands, and I realize she’s about six feet tall. She hands me a business card with her information on it. “I will be around the building whenever you need me. Mr. Jamison doesn’t want you taking rideshares anymore. I’ll be driving you around, so if there’s anywhere you want to go, just let me know.” I look at her, confused and angry, but I know none of this is her fault.

  “Thank you, but I can get around just fine April,” I tell her, trying to conceal my anger.

  “But Mr. Jamison—”

  “Mr. Jamison can go fuck himself,” I say angrily before storming out of the kitchen. I go to my room and grab my phone and call Vincent, but it only goes to voicemail. I try to calm down and think clearly, rationally. So, he hired a bodyguard…I try to silence the echo of babysitter around it.

  It’s not the worse thing in the world, even if it’s most likely a big overreaction. I tell myself it’s not because I left and went to Marcus’s. It’s because he wants me to be safe, and I guess with the jewelry and clothing that I sometimes wear, it could make me a target at some of the places that I go. But he should have asked me, maybe even allowed me to choose who I’d want. How does he expect me to go to school and work a job with her?

  He’s going to have to let up and trust me.

  I continue to tell myself this isn’t a big deal, and I text Mallory and see if she’s free for breakfast. She is, so we arrange to meet at one of our favorite little greasy spoon spots. It’s not until I’m all dressed and call my Uber, and get a message my payment method isn’t working, that I start to become upset again. I try it four times and get the same message.

  “Shit!” I finally pull open my mobile app to check my balance, and my heart plummets when I see that I only have $12 dollars in it. When I pull up my transaction history, I see all the money that was there has been transferred out.

  I feel sick.

  More than sick. I attempt to call Vincent a dozen more times, but I still get the same straight to voicemail message. I hate that I’m crying, and I text Mallory a BS excuse, too embarrassed to tell her that I don’t have the money to make it by Uber, let alone to pay for breakfast. I sit on my bed for the rest of the afternoon and cry. It never hit me until now how dependent I am on Vincent.

  He’s just showed me how he can take everything, that we’re not a partnership, that he’s the one in control. He left on purpose and is refusing my calls to show me where I’ll be without him.

  I can’t believe I let myself be put in this position. My mother was right.

  I spend the rest of the day trying to think of how to get out of this. I’m realizing that Vincent isn’t who I thought he was. He’s sure as hell not the man I want to marry. My phone rings and my first instinct is to send it to voicemail, but I’m reminded that I have nothing, no leverage or anything at this point, so I try to calm myself down.

  “Poppy, how was your day?” he asks, and it’s so jarring to hear his voice—calm, smooth, and deep. A voice that’s always made me feel safe is now the opposite of that.

  “What is going on, Vincent? I tried to take an Uber today and my card was declined. You took all the money out, and I have nothing.” I tell him, trying not to cry.

  “Oh Poppy, of course. I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. I opened us up another account and moved everything. I left the new card with April. If you had just let her take you as you should have, she would have explained that to you,” he says easily.

  “What?” I say, confused.

  “I’d never leave you with nothing. I tell you all the time that I’ll always take care of you,” he says sweetly.

  “She-she didn’t say anything when I spoke to her this morning,” I tell him.

  “Because you didn’t state you needed to go anywhere, most likely.”

  “Vincent, you should have just given me the card last night,” I tell him tightly, wiping my eyes.

  “We were rather busy last night, wouldn’t you say?” His tone is overly suggestive, and I rest my head in my forehead.

  I’m so confused, so exhausted. I’ve been preparing myself all day to believe he is a manipulative, controlling asshole, and that I need to leave. And here he is with a reasonable explanation.

  “You there, Poppy?” he asks, and I sigh.

  “Yes, I’m here, Vincent,” I tell him.

  “I’ll be home late tomorrow night, most likely. Talk to April in the morning. She’s there to help you.”

  “I, I just feel sort of strange about how things are now. I want us to really talk about everything.” I say sincerely into the phone.

  “We will, I promise. As soon as I’m back. Get some sleep, Poppy,” he says, and the line goes dead.

  I let out a sigh and lay back down on the bed where I’ve been all day. I’m emotionally exhausted. I get up from my bed and head to the kitchen and pull out a
bottle of wine from the cooler. I’ve never been much of a drinker but I need something to calm my anxiety, my racing thoughts, and my mind. I pour a glass and text Dena and Mallory and ask them if they’d like to come over tomorrow. I need to talk to someone to make sure I’m not going crazy. They both text back that they’re free, and I smile and finish my glass.

  The next day when I wake up, a debit card is sitting on the kitchen island with a note from April to let me know to get ahold of her if there is anything I need. I call and activate it immediately and am relieved when I hear the balance in the high five figures as it was before the transfer. I slept well last night after finishing off the bottle of wine. It’s the first time I’ve ever drank by myself. The bottle went faster than I imagined, but it was the exact thing I needed to get a good night's sleep. I head down to the spa in Vincent’s building, and though I don’t have an appointment, am able to get a massage, facial, and pedicure. I try to eliminate all of the stress and tension that I’ve been carrying around the past few weeks. I want to be my old self when Mallory and Dena arrive and in a good mood later tonight for Vincent. I’ve decided that I’ve been overreacting about everything. I’m due to start my period any day, so it’s also why I’ve been so emotional. I’m not in such a bad place as I imagined. Vincent loves me, wants to protect me, and is okay with me going to school. Yes, the thing with April is sort of weird, but Vincent is the wealthiest person I’ve ever known, and wealthy people are eccentric.

  I order in from our favorite Italian restaurant for me and the girls. By the time they arrive, I have everything set out and ready, along with three bottles of wine.

  “Oh my gosh, this is amazing,” Dena says, filling her mouth with risotto.

  “The best lasagna I’ve ever had,” Mallory agrees, pushing her plate from in front of her.

  “I’m so glad you guys like it,” I tell them, filling my second glass of wine. Mallory eyes me curiously.

  “Rain, when did you become a wine drinker?” she asks lightly. I shrug.

  “I’m not really, but I always drink it with Vincent when we have Italian food. He says it pairs well.”

  “I have to say you look amazing, Rain. God, money does a girl's skin good,” Dena says, grabbing a glass of her own.

  I flush.

  Even though I’ve gotten used to shopping in expensive boutiques, wearing thousand dollar shoes, and drinking wine that cost more than all the food in my old fridge combined, it’s still embarrassing when it gets pointed out.

  “You do look really good, Rain, but…are you okay? You seem…I don’t know, kind of sad.”

  “What the hell does she have to be sad about? Do you see where we are?” Dena laughs mockingly at Mallory. I smile, hard, and try to keep it there.

  I’m okay.

  I thought it was okay. I really did. I spent all day wanting to be okay, telling myself it’s okay, but the moment Mallory says this, I feel tears coming to my eyes.

  “Rain, what’s wrong?” she asks. Embarrassingly, I burst into tears. She’s up out of her seat, hugging me tightly, and even Dena moves closer to me and holds my hand. I tell them everything that’s happened—how I got into school and Vincent’s initial response, the thing with April, him changing the bank accounts, and how I feel like I’m about to marry Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. They both listen without saying a word. Mallory’s eyes are wide in horror, and Dena looks utterly confused. She hands me a bottle of water in some attempt to help and I appreciate her for it.

  “Honey,” Mallory says softly, as if speaking any louder may set me off again.

  “What you’re describing about Vincent…it’s not normal. It’s not right. You know it isn’t, that’s why you feel like this,” Mallory says, rubbing my back.

  “Wait a minute. Let’s not all overreact. Yeah, he’s being an ass. Most guys are. But he’s done a lot for her. Look where we are. It’s pretty shitty he’s upset about her going back to school, but I mean, when you think about it, he’s right. How many girls do we work with at Funbags that have their Bachelor’s degrees?” Dena says.

  “It’s her choice, Dena. It’s about her being able to make the choices she wants, him respecting her enough to support her. He told her he would!” Mallory says sternly.

  “I know, but she’s not just his girlfriend anymore. She’s going to be his wife. He’s going to take care of her. Look at the fucking ring on your finger, Rain. That’s at least a year of tuition sitting on your finger.” She laughs. I dry my eyes on my oversized shirt.

  It’s the reason I didn’t tell them, I knew they’d see things differently and I’m already so torn about it all now.

  “And look how miserable she is with it on. What’s the point if she’s not happy!”

  “She’s emotional and probably a little drunk. It doesn’t mean she isn’t happy,” Dena counters.

  “Stop guys. I don’t want you to argue,” I say, sniffling.

  “We’re not arguing,” Mallory insists, her tone still tense, and she’s glaring at Dena.

  “Are you unhappy, Rain?” Dena asks in a huff. I think about her question. Yes, now I’m unhappy. Vincent isn’t here, we’re not on the best terms. I’m unclear about a lot, but if things were a little different, like how they were before all of this…

  “I’m not happy about how he’s being, but outside of this, I am. I love Vincent. I want to be with him. I’m just worried we’re not seeing things eye to eye and how can I marry him if we don’t,” I admit to them and myself.

  “All of that will change once you’re married, girl. Now you don’t have a real say over anything, but once you have his name, he won’t be able to pull the shit he’s doing now. You’ll own half of everything.” Dena says easily with a shrug. Mallory huffs.

  “Or things could get worse. A lot worse. If he’s being like this now, just think how he could be when he’s your husband.”

  “Rain, listen to me. You and I come from the same background,” Dena interrupts Mallory, narrowing her eyes at me.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Mallory scoffs.

  “It means that you can give this self-righteous haughty ass advice. At the end of the day, if you don’t finish school or work a job, you have mommy and daddy to save your ass. Rain and I don’t have that,” she says pointedly. Mallory starts to counter but doesn’t. Dena’s right. Mallory comes from an upper-middle-class family. Even when Dena left us high and dry it was me that had to go and steal. I had to go and make something happen or I’d have been homeless or back to sharing a too-small room with my seventeen-year-old sister and adding another burden to my parents, mainly my mom.

  “Being with Vincent has changed things for you, it’s helped your family. If you walk away from all of this, what happens? You won’t be able to start school anyway because you couldn’t afford it, you can’t come live with us since we already have a new roommate, and you’ll be back at Funbags with Benny being even more of an asshole to you since Vincent shitted all over his life. That’s if he decided to hire you back.”

  Tears come to my eyes again as Dena speaks the things I already know. “There’s two worst-case scenarios, it seems like, and one is a hell of a lot worse than the other.”

  “Money isn’t everything,” Mallory says, and Dena laughs out loud, visibly appalled at what she’s just said.

  “I know that your situation is different from mine, Rain, but you don’t have to put up with abuse.”

  “Abuse?! Rain hasn’t said that he’s hit her Mal!”

  “Has he?”

  “No, he’s never. He wouldn’t ever do that,” I tell them, meaning that with everything in me.

  “There’s more than one form of abuse. It’s not just the physical kind, and all of what Rain is saying is setting off alarm bells!”

  We’re all quiet again, no one speaking.

  At the end of all of this, it comes down to me, like it did before this conversation started. They’ve both said things I already know, and I’m more confused than ever, the wine onl
y enhancing it.

  “I’m not saying you have to leave if you aren’t ready for that, I’m just thinking maybe you can hold off on marrying him. Put the date off as far as you can, really see if he is who you think he is,” Mallory pleads to me. My heart sinks more and more as their debate continues.

  Dena starts to say something, but we hear noise from the other side of the apartment. I feel the color drain from my face. Vincent said he wouldn’t be home until late tonight, and it’s only 8:30. I grab my glass of wine and drain it, and tell myself to calm down, that he didn’t hear anything we’ve said.

  “I’ll be back,” I tell them, quickly wanting to greet him before he gets in the room. But the doors to the dining room swing open, and there my future husband is standing, handsome as he ever was, wearing a charming smile…but the glint in his eye is dangerous.

  “Hello, ladies.”

  Chapter 34

  Rain

  Two years ago

  Zach didn’t come back. I waited days, and days turned to weeks and weeks to months. I eventually found out that Zach's father was shot but recovered quickly. Thankfully it was in his shoulder and not his chest, how Zach maybe thought, but it doesn’t matter. Zach is gone in the wind, and I haven’t heard anything from him since.

  I’m a junior now. Every day I still wait to hear from Zach, hoping against hope that he’ll show up and save me. From what, I'm not sure. I’m doing well in school; Marcus encouraged that. He’s my friend now, nothing like Zach because Zach was always more than a friend. When Marcus got a girlfriend, it wasn’t gut-wrenching to see them together, but even with his new romantic life, he helped me to focus on school, and now I have a 3.3 GPA. The guidance counselor says I have a good chance of getting into a university and maybe even receiving a partial scholarship if I can join another club and maybe a sport, but there’s only two schools I want to go to. Both share the same name: Columbia University in New York and Columbia College of Chicago, and since the latter of the two is cheaper and closer to home, I’m pinning all of my hopes on getting a large scholarship so I can go. I’ve tried to stop thinking of Zach, even contemplating not saying his name.