“Well, you are gone a lot,” Damon points outs.
Michael holds my eyes for only a moment before he hauls off and hits Damon, slamming his fist right across his face.
“Michael!” I shout.
Damon grunts, falling onto the sofa, but shoots back off quickly, glaring and charging ahead.
But Kai holds him back, stopping him.
Michael forgets his attack and looks at me. “I’m retiring after next season,” he tells me. “Will you talk to me, then?”
Retiring? I shake my head. “You’re twenty-five. You still have years if you don’t get injured.”
“It’s time to concentrate on other things. The Cove, our family…”
“We can’t move on the Cove until we get Will home,” Damon commands.
“Will won’t stop it from happening,” Michael replies, planting his hands and leaning on the table. “It’s time to level the property and begin.”
“Whoa, whoa, the Cove?” Misha steps forward. “You’re not tearing it down!”
But Michael slams the table with his fists, shutting everyone up. We all stand silent as he dips his head, staring at the table.
I inch forward. This is my fault, not theirs.
Finally, he looks up at me, his voice softer. “I feel less than you,” he says. “Like…”
“Like you have nothing to teach me anymore,” I finish for him.
He doesn’t respond, so I know I’m right. He’s intimidated that I have more going on than just him.
“I’m not your pet,” I tell him.
I was once, but not anymore.
“Why?” he asks.
Why? He’s asking why I won’t be his pet? Seriously?
He rises and walks around the table, approaching me.
“Because…” I say. “Because I need to be more. I need to be…useful.”
“Why?”
I want to laugh, not out of amusement but anger. I’m not a trophy. I’m not something to play with or program.
“Because I need you to see what I can do,” I tell him. I need to prove myself.
“Why?” He inches closer.
I open my mouth, but I can’t find my words. I know what he’s doing, and the tears start to fill my eyes. I just need to say it.
“Because I don’t want you to be disappointed in me,” I whisper. “Because you’ll be disappointed.”
He stands in front of me, only a few inches between us. “Why?”
“Because I can’t…I…” I stutter, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I can’t have children.” I close my eyes, silently starting to cry as the words leave my mouth. “I can’t give us a family.”
He stands there, not coming any closer, and while my heart is breaking at the life we can’t have, a weight lifts off my shoulders. I didn’t want to do this in front of everyone, because Michael will be the gentleman and assure me it’s okay. We’ll adopt. We’ll hire a surrogate. We’ll be fine.
But months down the road, he’ll start to understand it’s not that simple. He’ll resent the life he can’t have, and I’ll feel like I’m keeping him from something better.
“My cycles have always been long, but…” I continue, “I’m not ovulating regularly. The doctor says it’s unlikely.”
“But not impossible,” Banks clarifies, approaching me. “Have you tried other doctors?”
“Yes.”
Damon steps forward. “Well, once you get off birth control—”
“I’ve been off for two years,” I tell him. “And I haven’t had a period in over one.”
“A year,” Michael says, more to himself. “About how long you’ve been carrying this around, right?”
But it comes out sounding like an accusation before he turns his eyes on Kai. “Why don’t you seem surprised?” he asks him.
But Kai just looks away. He’s the only one who knew, and I understand what Michael is feeling. But I didn’t confide in Kai. He just found out.
He went through the whole pep talk with me. Michael loves you. You have options. People make it work every day. Lots of kids need good homes. But people also break up over these things. Every day. People want children of their own. They want to make children with the man or woman they love. I never thought something like this would get in my way, but I’m scared. It’s easy to say I’m valuable. He loves me for me, and if my body can’t do this, it can’t be all he needs from me. I’m worth plenty, even if I can’t give him our children, right? This isn’t my fault. I haven’t failed.
But believing those words and feeling them is more difficult. What if he tries but he decides this is just too hard? What if I can never accept that I can’t do this for him?
I can’t look at him as I whisper, “We won’t have any children together, Michael.”
That’s as plain as I can put it. He needs to know the likelihood is slim.
I wait for him to not be angry. To give some sign that this isn’t the end of the world, and he still loves me more than anything, but…
He turns and walks away.
He leaves the room, leaving me standing there with tears on my face. Emptiness aches in my body everywhere. He hates me. God, he hates me. I can’t breathe.
“You knew?” I hear Banks ask.
“I found out,” Kai tells her. “It was an accident.”
I sniffle, my hands shaking. Oh, my God. He left. He walked out.
I close my eyes again.
“We’re killing him,” Damon growls, and he’s probably talking to Kai. “Right now.”
Banks, Ryen, and Alex step over, trying to hold me, but I shake them off gently. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” I wipe my eyes and move forward. “Excuse me, please.”
And I hurry out of the room, covering my mouth with my hand as I go, so they can’t hear the sobs.
Fuck you, Rika.
Something constricts my throat, and I startle awake, unsure if it was a noise or the sudden quiet that jostles me.
The engines have stopped. I lift my head and look around the dark room, seeing it’s still empty and the bed untouched. What time is it?
I’m still curled up in the chair in Michael’s and my cabin, having buried myself in it when I finally found the courage to step inside.
But he wasn’t here when I came in.
Setting my feet on the floor, I wipe my eyes and stand up, looking around again. It’s still dark outside. I glance at the clock on the dresser, the little bells chiming midnight.
It’s been three hours since the fight. Where is he? Why have we stopped?
Of course, I have no interest in going to Ireland right now anyway, so I’m kind of glad.
Leaving my heels next to the chair, I pick up the hem of my dress, so I don’t trip, and walk barefoot to the door. Opening it, I peer outside into the corridor.
“Michael?” I call.
Then, I listen.
But nothing. No noise coming from the other cabins. No music. No movement or conversation.
Stepping out of the room, I walk, swiping my fingers under my eyes to tidy up the eyeliner as I go. After the argument, I’d drifted to the bow to cool off and try to get my head straight. I’d put myself through every mental argument I could over the past several months leading up to this conversation, and not only did I completely blow it, but I expected everything from him except the one thing I got. Silence.
He just walked away like I was nothing. I was right to worry, after all, it seems.
Even if he were okay with it, I don’t know if I would be. He’ll go on, watching his friends have their babies, but it won’t be like that for us, and I hate that. I’d hate doing that to him.
I shake my head, taking breaths to calm myself. I don’t want to lose him.
After a while, I’d decided to go have it out privately, but when I went to the cabin, he wasn’t there. I curled up on the chair to wait and drifted off.
I hear splashes and look over the side of the boat and see people jumping into the water down at the stern.<
br />
Ryen and Banks swim back to the boat, while Kai and Misha jump in over their heads. They all laugh, blowing off steam while they can. Conclave still goes on, whether we’re in that room or not, I guess. It’s just Michael and me for now, though.
I take the stairs to the bridge. “Hello?”
“Hello?”
“Mr. Barris?” I say, stepping into the room.
We still face east, but he’s stopped the boat for now.
“Ms. Fane.” He rises from his chair. “Everything okay?”
I rub my arms, extra aware of my lack of under-clothes now. “Have you seen Mr. Crist?”
“Not for a while, no.”
I nod absently. Well, he couldn’t have gone far, at least.
I turn to leave but stop, noticing he’s been in the bridge all day.
“Where is Ms. Chen?” I ask. He should be getting to sleep soon.
He stares at me for a moment and then says, “I dismissed her for the evening a while ago.”
But then he looks away, and something unnerves me. Like he didn’t want to tell me that.
I look after him for a moment, watching him busy himself with something silly, and finally, I decide to leave. What’s wrong with dismissing her for the night? Why would he look uncomfortable telling me that?
Heading back to the owner’s deck, I slowly walk down the corridor, lightly knocking on rooms I know are unoccupied. He could be sleeping it off somewhere else to avoid me. I search the galley, the dining area, the lounge, and the wine room. There’s no one in the steam room; but the farther I go, the louder my heart beats in my ears, because if I haven’t found him yet, then he’s somewhere he doesn’t want to be found.
A thought occurs to me and my stomach rolls with nausea. Did Michael ask for Ms. Chen to be dismissed from the bridge early? Is that why Barris looked at me so weird?
The boat rocks under my feet, and I stop for a moment, steadying myself.
It’s not the boat. I’m dizzy.
Michael…
I swallow. No, he wouldn’t do that.
I descend the last set of stairs, the machines and engines humming quietly as the low lights glow across the red floors. I tread in the shadows, around giant cylinders, afraid to look in the nooks and small spaces, but this place—in the bowels of the yacht—is the only place left to search.
Maybe he’s with Damon and Winter. Maybe he took the speedboat back to shore?
A flash goes off ahead, and I look up, catching movement somewhere behind the tanks.
Slowly, I head that way.
Another flash goes off, and I hear a shuffle as I peer between two large white tanks, two more flashes going off. It’s a camera.
A woman with long, dark hair sits on top of a table, its legs nailed to the floor and her naked body in full view of whoever takes her picture. Her face is covered behind her hair, but I know who it is. It’s too long to be Banks and too dark to be Alex.
Samara Chen.
I watch as our first mate leans back on her hands, one foot propped up on the table and one leg dangling, as someone takes her picture over and over again. I close my eyes for a moment. I want to see who it is, but I’m pretty sure I already know.
I open my eyes, watching Samara slip her fingers between her legs, her hair falling behind her shoulders, so I can see her eyes now, eye-fucking the camera in front of her as she rubs herself in circles. The long lines of her torso, the smooth skin of her hips and back, her full, beautiful breasts…
An image of Michael fucking her on that table flashes in my mind, and my stomach twists again and again like a rubber band, and I clench my fists.
But as I slowly step to the side, my heart pounding so hard it hurts as I look around the tank, I see it’s not Michael taking her picture.
Alex has changed into a casual pair of gray lounge pants and white V-neck T-shirt. She holds a camera in her hands, cocking her head and watching as Ms. Chen props both legs up on the table, spreading wide for Alex’s view.
I release the breath I’d been holding.
But then, out of the corner of my eye, I spot movement. Lev enters from somewhere he’d been standing beyond my line of sight and walks over to the table, shoving Samara down hard.
She whimpers, and I suck in a breath. Alex holds his eyes for a moment, and then he dives down, eating the girl’s pussy.
He licks and sucks, nibbles and rubs, her body arching off the table as he goes at her without pause. She moans, and he wraps his hand around her thigh, holding her in place as Alex continues photographing them.
I should leave. I step back but run into something hard, and I pause, the hair on my arms standing up straight. A long arm with long fingers reaches around me, and I spot the same beautiful vein in his hand bulging as he grips his bottle of Kirin, handing it to me.
A flutter hits my heart, and I’m sixteen again, back at St. Killian’s. I take the beer, looking up at the scene in front of us as he remains behind me. I take a swig, the bitter bubbles popping on my tongue.
Lev licks her slow but steady, rubbing his tongue around her clit and kneading her breasts. She moans, her hips rolling into his mouth, hungry for more. Another flash goes off as we watch them, silently tucked away and hidden.
“I love you,” I say, clutching the bottle.
I’m glad when he doesn’t respond, because I need to say this now that we’re alone.
“What’s my worth if I keep you from having the one thing most people really want?” I pause, staring at the scene but barely paying attention. “I couldn’t lose you, Michael.”
I take another sip, remembering that first taste all those years ago.
“I couldn’t lose you, but I couldn’t marry you, either,” I tell him. “Not under a lie.” I draw in a deep breath despite the tears lodged in my throat. “I just wanted to be able to love you as long as possible, because I don’t want you to give up your chance to have children, and I don’t know if I can cope not being able to give them to you. I feel like shit. All the time. I can’t stomach the thought of you having a family with anyone else, but I don’t want to make you unhappy, either.”
I’m hurting.
He’s still silent, and I don’t know if I’ve explained myself or if I make any sense.
He takes the bottle from my hand, and I hear the liquid slosh as he tips the bottle back for a drink. I wait, because everything hinges on hearing his voice.
“I knew you were in my truck that day,” he says in a low voice.
I blink. What?
“I saw the backdoor open in the rearview mirror,” he explains. “And then I saw it close.”
In his truck…?
And then it hits me. Devil’s Night so long ago when I snuck into his truck to follow him and his friends. The same one where he let me try his beer for the first time.
“You weren’t old enough for everything,” he continues, “but you were old enough for some things, and I couldn’t wait anymore. It was always there. Since we were kids.”
Ms. Chen’s moans and whimpers fill the engine room as she holds Lev’s mouth to her pussy, their pace and breathing growing stronger and faster.
“Sometimes, I thought I wanted to touch you,” Michael whispers, and I feel it on the top of my hair. “Other times, I thought I wanted to kill you. I didn’t know if it was love or hate, but I knew it would change my life.”
“Slower, Lev,” Alex tells him, snapping a photo.
But he argues. “Come on, she tastes so good.”
“Like this.” Alex leans in, kissing Ms. Chen and Lev follows her lead, both of them devouring the young woman.
“Oh, my God,” Chen pants, arching her back off the table.
I close my eyes, the memory of those same sounds coming back to me. “And you found me at St. Killian’s, just like this,” I say to Michael. “You took me downstairs, blindfolded me, and we heard things, just like this.”
Chen groans, panting harder, and I can tell she’s about to come.
&n
bsp; “I loved your world,” I whisper.
“You wanted to see so badly that day in the catacombs.” The heat of his body warms my skin. “I even think part of you wanted to be her. To experience it all.”
“I wanted anything with you,” I reply, opening my eyes. “I wanted to let it all happen.”
Samara’s body bobs back and forth, her back arching again and again as Lev buries his mouth in her pussy and she gets closer. Her moans fill the room, growing louder and faster.
“I wish I could go back to that night,” I tell Michael. “I would’ve tried not to get in that truck. I would’ve tried not to steal all this time from you.”
Tears burn behind my eyes. I’m a burden to him. I feel like I’m making his life worse.
But all of a sudden, his arms wrap around me, and his whisper hits my neck. “And if I could go back, I wouldn’t have wasted a moment.”
He lifts me off my feet, and I suck in a breath as he carries me back a few steps. He drops down, bringing me into his lap, and I realize he’s in a chair. I still see slivers of the scene through the tanks, Lev rising and Samara panting and whimpering in protest that he stopped. He takes her legs, pulling her down to the end of the table as he unfastens his jeans.
Michael pulls me back against him, one arm around my body and one hand cupping my cheek as he whispers in my ear. “I would’ve left that warehouse that night, but I would’ve taken you with me instead.”
An ache hits my heart, but also a flutter. I love how we love each other now, but if he had taken me with him that night—if I hadn’t decided to walk home—so much might not have happened to keep us apart all that time.
“I would’ve kept my word,” he goes on. “Just kissing you and holding you, and that would’ve been enough then, because just the feel of you drove me out of my mind.” His breath is hot on my skin, and I hear the desire in his voice. “l would’ve sat you down on the counter in my parents’ dark kitchen that night, standing between your legs as I ate you up, because at any moment we could’ve been caught, and I wanted to get us into trouble. I wanted them to try to keep me from you the way they always did, only this time I wouldn’t have listened.”
Conclave (Devil's Night 3.5) Page 6