by K. V. Rose
Trying not to be that scared teenage girl. Because fuck Rolland Virani. I can protect myself now.
I open the door and paste a smile on my face.
“Well, hello, hello,” he croons, and pulls me in for a hug, his hands trailing down my back.
I stiffen, but let him touch me, and then pull back, shutting the door behind him. I gesture to the leather couch.
“Please,” I say, “have a seat.” Southern manners I must have picked up. Because this is Rolland’s condo. He can do whatever the fuck he wants in it. If only I could shove him out of the window, down into the street below.
He walks across the room, wearing a grey dress shirt and black pants, his appearance unrumpled by the summer heat in Toronto. He sits, pats the seat beside him, but I purposefully sit across from him, on the love seat.
He frowns, his brows pulled together, but thankfully, he doesn’t mention it.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask, crossing my legs, leaning back on the couch, as if I’m totally relaxed. As if I’m in charge here.
His eyes are a darker blue than his eldest son’s, and there are flecks of brown in them that remind me of Jack. But I don’t let that trip me up. I keep that false confidence.
“It’s me who owes you the pleasure, Riley. I’m so sorry for last night.” He glances at the wall of windows across from us, looking down at the Toronto sign, at the clear blue sky of another beautiful Sunday morning. But then his eyes cut to me, and he runs his hands over his pants. “What did you do last night?”
I frown. “I could ask you the same,” I counter, as if I give a shit what he did last night. Or who.
He looks momentarily uncomfortable, and it at once makes me nervous that he thinks I care, and happy that he seems on edge. “It’s just…Maria…” He shakes his head, fiddles with the gold wedding band on his finger. His fingers are lean, like Caden’s.
But he’s nothing like Caden.
He hooks his arms around the leather chair that he had put in here, and that air of bravado is back.
“So, where were you?” He smiles, dimples flashing, and I have to admit he’s still handsome, even as he’s in his late 50s. Caden would age even better than him, with his mother’s beauty in his veins. But I bite my lip. That shouldn’t concern me. I may never see Caden again, no matter what we did last night in the dark.
Sometimes, those things done after the sun goes down, they seem to be erased by the morning. Like we can hide our secrets in that strange time after dusk. But the thing about secrets is that they always come out.
“I went out.” I shrug, glance out the windows, mirroring his posture with my own arms around the couch. “Not late.”
“Oh, Riley. How many times do I have to tell you I know when you lie to me?”
I snap my head back to him, furrow my brow. “How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t own me?” I snarl.
He smiles, laughs darkly. “Oh, but I do.” He shakes his head, runs a hand through his brown hair. “I’m sorry I made you come to the party, to the house. I’m sorry. I forgot Caden is…temperamental. Too volatile for his own good.” He shakes his head again, and it takes everything in me not to defend his only remaining son. But I don’t. “Not much different than Jack, where you were concerned.” He laughs, as if it’s funny.
He’s a piece of shit.
But no, that’s not it either. It’s not Rolland’s fault I couldn’t be honest with Jack. With Caden. And now it’s too late. Now, I never will be.
“Anyhow.” Rolland clears his throat. “I hope you didn’t see him last night?”
I snort, an undignified sound, and I don’t care. “This city has over four million people in it. What makes you think I’d have seen him?” I don’t take my eyes from his as he surveys me, weighing the truth in my lie.
“You two always did have a way of finding yourselves alone together. Like you were pulled that way.” He shrugs. “Magnets. I mean, you saw him that night, didn’t you?”
We both know what night he’s talking about. We both know I was with Caden.
I would never admit to him what those words do to me. As it is, I sit perfectly still.
He throws up his hands, as if dismissing it all. Dismissing my heart. Dismissing the love I had for his sons in that one, absentminded gesture.
“Oh well, water under the bridge. I suppose Caden will settle down soon enough. He’s been seeing someone; did he tell you at the party?”
I stiffen, and hope to God he doesn’t see.
Caden isn’t a cheater, mainly because he would never keep one girl long enough to cheat on her. And what we did last night, whether he hates himself for it or not…that would be cheating.
I’m the cheater.
Not Caden Virani.
But I say nothing, not willing to give Rolland the satisfaction of asking after what he’s hinting at.
“Yes, a hot little thing he met from work,” Rolland drones on, and the blood in my veins feels like it may start to boil. I feel my jaw tick, and I’ve got to interrupt him because if I don’t, I might kill him.
“What did you come here for?”
He stops talking abruptly, smiling at me. As if his words haven’t just ripped me to shreds. “To make it up to you. About last night.” He shifts over on the sofa, then places his hand beside him, patting it again. He wants me to come to him like I’m a dog. Usually, I do. Usually, I let him wine and dine me, pet me.
Not today.
At least, not here. Where the petting could take a turn for the worse.
I shake my head. “Then make it up to me. Let’s go out.” I jerk my head to the door. I want to get out of here.
Rolland sighs, rubs a hand over his face, and then, deliberately, he pockets his wedding band. Of course he does. Maybe last night, he was his wife’s husband. But Sunday morning, he’s my tormenter. I try to calm my nerves. I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m going back to North Carolina, to my mom, to our shitty apartment, to my shitty life. I’m going back to school and work and all the mundane things that keep me occupied, that keep me from thinking about Rolland and the Viranis and the worst mistake I ever made.
“Don’t want to sit with me?” Rolland asks, eyes narrowed. He looks dangerous like that. Not like Benji. Worse. Benji is darkness embodied, but Rolland tries to keep the nice-guy mask on, which makes it all the more eerie. He did that night, even. Up until the very last minute.
“Not particularly,” I reply, sitting up straighter, perched on the edge of the sofa.
“I’m surprised, you know,” Rolland says softly, turning his gaze to the windows once more. I know he’s not talking about me not sitting beside him. That’s probably not surprising in the least. “I’m surprised that you’re not more upset.”
His words send a shiver down my spine. But he knows. Adam came to his building after all. His door. It’s completely unsurprising that he knows, and yet it makes me nervous. Because if he knows, he won’t have any limits.
He turns his gaze back to me, a chilling smile on his lips. “Adam didn’t mean that much to you, did he?” He shakes his head without waiting for me to answer. “Long distance is hard to maintain, if you don’t have your significant other on a tight leash.”
I feel that familiar surge of anger again. I want to smash this glass table between us and use a piece of it to pierce through his sick heart. A little much? I don’t think so. Not after what he did.
But I’m no murderer. I’m a coward. It’s why I’m in this mess.
Get up and walk out of here. My brain is screaming it at me.
“When are you going to let this go?” I ask, unable to keep the words in.
We’ve had this conversation before. The one where I ask him to delete the video, to let me off the hook. It was him that committed the crime. Why I have to suffer for it is beyond me. Except it’s not, actually, beyond me. I’m acutely aware that rich people get away with murder. Poor people with drug-addicted mothers don’t. Besides, it’s not the video h
e’s hanging over my head anymore. We all saw that.
It’s the missing piece.
That I want to keep between us. That, I never want Caden to find out about. Never. I shouldn’t care. Shouldn’t want to protect him at my own expense. Not like this. And for three years I’ve paid for this. This silence. Rolland wouldn’t care. It might ding his reputation a little, but it would recover quickly, with all the money he’s got. Mine never would.
Rolland raises a brow, leaning forward. “You want me to let you go, Riley?” he asks softly.
I don’t answer him. He knows the answer.
“The thing is, Riley, I can’t.” He threads his fingers together, clasping his hands in front of him, his wrists on his knees. He bites his lip and a wave of revulsion rolls through me. He hasn’t tried it again. Not since that first time. Not since he used a moment of weakness from me, a girl he could exploit, to fuck up my whole life.
“Not since Jack came home with you. Your beautiful, white smile. The way you used your manners, Yes sir and No sir, so perfectly obedient. But there was a darkness to you, too. From your mother, from what you grew up with. I knew my son would never be able to handle you. I thought Caden would.” He shakes his head and sighs. “But of course, you missed that train. You couldn’t fuck Jack over, could you? Not outright. When you let him go, finally, well…it was his moping I couldn’t stand. That’s why I had to show him. To help him move along.”
My chest caves in at those words. His admission. I knew it all along, of course. But to hear him say it…I remember the note Jack left.
You took her.
“Did you tell him?” I ask Rolland, looking down at my hands. “Who it was?”
Rolland laughs. “Of course not, Riley. That’s not how blackmail works.”
You took her.
I don’t know who Jack thought it was, in that video. I have no idea. But the note was right beside his bed. His blood was…it was everywhere. Rolland had been the one to pull me from the room while Caden had sank to his knees. We had been together when Caden got the call. The body hadn’t been moved when we drove back from that hotel.
Caden had instantly blamed me.
He didn’t understand.
He didn’t want to hear it. He hadn’t said a word to me the entire drive back, his face a mask of fury and panic and hurt all rolled into one. He had thought I had sent it. He had thought I had wanted to fuck Jack up some more. Thought I was retaliating for his possessiveness.
As if I was capable of even thinking of doing such a thing. The video is the reason I left him. Not the video itself, but the moment it captured. What had happened the week before.
“You’re sick,” I say to Rolland now, whispering the words. Not because I’m scared, even though I am. And not because I don’t mean them, because I do. But because it’s suddenly hard to speak. I stand to my feet. “You’re sick. I don’t want anything to do with you, ever again.”
Rolland doesn’t even look surprised.
He only blinks, shaking his head. “And where, exactly, are you going to go? Can you even afford a ticket back to Hicksville, Riley? Can you even afford a cab to the airport? What can you do without me? You’re trapped here, unless you play nice.”
I swallow and find my throat is dry. We’ve had this conversation before. The initial blackmail, with the threat of revealing who was in the video. It’s why I’m here. Why I’ve been flying back and forth for three years. But I can’t stand another second in this city. In this condo. In this room with Rolland Virani. I should have done this a long time ago. I should have cut this off after Jack died. I should have never seen Rolland again after that, but instead, I’d endured his constant summons to Toronto. His constant calls to his side like I was some high-end escort he flew around the globe at his pleasure.
The truth was, we hadn’t done anything since that night. The one on the video.
Not once.
Adam protected me, without knowing it, at first. Which is why I kept him.
Now, I didn’t have Adam.
I didn’t have Tyler either. Or Benji. Or Caden. Or even my mom.
I have no one to help me here. But I can’t do this anymore. I’ve spent three years in Rolland’s pocket, because he had blackmailed me, and in turn, kept his silence. But fuck this.
If it comes right down to it, if this blows up in my face and makes the news, I’ll drop out of school and forget the whole fucking thing. Becoming a professor was always a pipe dream for someone like me anyhow.
I’ll bag groceries for the rest of my life or work the gym or do whatever it takes to get out of this.
Fuck it.
I’m not doing this shit anymore.
“I’m leaving,” I say to Rolland.
I walk past him, into the bedroom, and stuff my clothes in my bag, not bothering with the clothes he keeps here. I don’t want a reminder of Rolland. And if it’s true, if Caden has a girlfriend, if he might actually marry her, well I don’t want anything to remind me of him either. The faster I get out of his life permanently, the better.
Mom and I have dual citizenship, a gift from my American dad. The only thing he gave us before he walked out and left. I don’t need Rolland for that. And he’s right. I don’t have money for a plane ticket. But I’ve got a credit card, and that’s enough. I don’t know what I’ll do if he tells Caden. If he tells the world. If he shows my mom. What Tyler will think of me. But I’ll deal with that later.
I just have to get out of here.
I walk back into the living room, surprised Rolland isn’t where I left him. But completely unsurprised he’s standing at the door, blocking my exit.
I face him head on.
“Move.”
He smiles, shakes his head, and slides his hands in his pockets. “What is Caden going to think?”
My heart squeezes at the words, but I don’t let it show on my face. “Caden wants nothing to do with me.”
He laughs, low and cruel. “Oh, I don’t think that’s true. You’re smarter than that, Riley.”
“He’s seeing someone.”
“Oh,” Rolland says, cocking his head to the side, “so you do care?”
“Move,” I repeat myself. “Now. You’re a smart guy, Rolland. You’ve got a team of lawyers. But if you trap me here, I don’t care who you show that video to. I don’t care who you tell. Because, sure, it might fuck Caden up some more, but really, what’s it matter, at this point? We’re already fucked enough as it is. What’s a little more? But either way, you’d be the only one going to jail.”
His jaw tightens at those words. It’s not the first time I’ve used them to make him back off. The reality is, I don’t want him to go to jail. If anything, I want him dead. But him in jail will just make Caden’s life more miserable, so no matter what I say, I don’t want that for him.
And he won’t go to prison as long as he should.
Because he has resources.
“You were eighteen,” he breathes, but not like he’s scared. Like he’s angry.
I force myself to wink at him. “The legal age of consent in Ontario is sixteen. That’s not the bad part, is it, Mr. Virani? The bad part is your position over me, Mr. Virani.”
And then he moves aside, and I take my chance, whisking past him and letting the door slam closed behind me.
Eighteen
Present
I’ve spent all of Sunday morning in the backyard, sparring with Benji. He came over when I shot him a text, at the crack of dawn.
Neither of us are very good anymore, but both of us have stamina and both of us are in excellent shape. Benji more so than me. Apparently, there wasn’t much to do in prison but work out and pick fights, and when Benji’s fist connects with my face, me missing the block, I start to think this might be a bad idea.
I hold up my hand in surrender and grab the water bottle on the back deck, across from the in-ground pool. I tilt the bottle up, letting the water fall down my chin. I’m breathing hard and damn that punch hurt, but
not as much as dropping her off last night did. I waited until she got inside, and I saw her look back.
And I wanted to stay. I wanted to put the car in park and jump out and run into her arms, to feel her on my tongue again. To taste her, again. But fuck it, I couldn’t. I can’t. She doesn’t deserve it. Hell, neither do I.
Instead, I went home to Haven, in the suburbs outside of Toronto, so I can go into the office tomorrow and do my damn job. Make some more money. Maybe have Vivian come home with me, so I can forget about Riley.
“You’re thinking about her,” Benji says at my back.
I still for a moment, wondering if I spoke my thoughts out loud. But I don’t do that shit. Ever.
I take another drink of water to buy time to get the guilt out of my eyes and then I toss the bottle down on the deck and turn around.
This property is on the edge of Lake Ontario, and my nearest neighbor is half a mile away, so I don’t keep my voice down when I say, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Last night was supposed to be the end of this. But it feels like it was just the beginning.
Benji smiles darkly, runs a hand over his sweaty abs. He’s got more tattoos visible when he’s shirtless. I try not to look away from his gaze though, because he’s holding mine steady. Testing my resolve where Riley is concerned.
“You would have fought me, wouldn’t you?”
I flash him a lethal smile. “I’m fighting you now,” I point out.
He shakes his head, and there’s no humor on his face now as he steps toward me, the pool glistening beside us.
“No. You would have really fought me, last night, in the alleyway, wouldn’t you? And later, in the woods?” His jaw is tight for some reason, but he doesn’t really seem angry. He just seems deadly serious. “I told you I don’t drink anymore. I shouldn’t have touched her in that alley. But you would have beat the shit out of me,” his eyes flash as he pauses, “or tried,” he corrects himself, “and in the woods, if I had slid my fingers down her wet pussy?”