The smell of tobacco filters around the darkened library and into my chest and it immediately brings unwanted memories from the past. Violent recollections of the past crash into me and before I can mentally shut that, I’m transported back to that night, in that room.
He smelled like tobacco too.
He was big, I was just a thirteen year old girl.
It wasn’t hard for him to subdue me and destroy me.
Just like it isn’t hard for my mother to do this.
“You can’t do this to me.” I almost cry but I know my eyes are pleading with my mother. “You can’t do this to us.” I look over at Syrus as I say that.
“Well, I’m doing this for my son.” He says, his voice now hard. “I don’t fucking care what you think of me as a parent but when it comes to my family, my heir, my lineage, I will do anything in my power to ensure that we live on.
“Where is Emmett?” I question, as I look up at him, remembering the question he asked me earlier. The way he asked it, it was obvious he knew where he was.
He stands up then, taking out a pen from his breast pocket with a heavy sigh.
“Have you ever wondered why my son’s heart beats in a rather, imperfect and strange manner?” Syrus questions, his face growing stonier with each word he utters, if that’s possible.
Heartbeat.
Heartbeat.
Heartbeat.
Here it is, whatever the hell Emmett has been keeping from me.
I remain mute, not wanting to talk about it. Not wanting to jinx anything by opening my mouth because today, is probably one of the worst nights of my life.
“I mean, he is a strange young man, but he is still my son and I want the best for him.”
“Really? Could have fooled me with your award winning parental style.” I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the dread in the pit of my stomach as well as the prickling of my skin but I can’t ignore that sensation. I can’t ignore fate as it stares me in the face.
“You have a mouth on you and it’s really getting on my nerves now.” Syrus growls, stepping closer to me. I resist the urge to take a stand up a kick him in the balls with great difficulty. I’ve been knocked around several times but none worse than Amanda.
“Can you get to the damn point, Syrus. Threatening my child will not make our problems go away. Just tell her and let’s keep this moving.” Amanda says, waving a hand in the air as if she is trying to coordinate a dog and pony show.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot that you are only selling your daughter because you are a scornful woman who only wants to settle an old score.” Syrus says, without even looking at her. “But the point of all of this Astraea, is that you will marry my son and you will not fight it or complain about it.”
“Where is he?” I question again, unable to shake this awful feeling of trepidation and anxiety that has taken root in my stomach.
Again.
“At the hospital.” He answers.
The ground shakes beneath my feet.
“Why is he there?” I question.
A split second passes. I watch Syrus’ lips move as he begins forming the dreadful words that will change everything.
“He has had Congenital Heart Defects from birth.”
Heartbeat.
Heartbeat.
Heartbeat.
No. . .
“Can you believe he was born with about two types of those fucking defects, that the doctors assured would be healed after surgery but as years went past, with that pathetic heart of his, he has had more defects appear.” Syrus says, his voice cold, hard and so damn detached. As if he’s talking about someone else and not his son.
“You’re lying!” I shout, quickly standing up as tears blur my eyes, my own heart pounding in my chest.
Oh God, please. He’s lying. Please let him be lying.
“Am I?” Syrus questions, his expressionless face now hard. “I’m not in the business of wasting words, Astraea. Why don’t you go and find him right now.” He says, gesturing towards the door.
But I remain rooted where I stand, tears streaming down my cheeks unchecked, pain moving through me.
“You will marry my son, or I’ll destroy that boy. The choice is yours really.” He says as he grinds his cigar, picks up his coat and then places a kiss on Amada’s cheek.
Bile rises up my throat again.
“Amanda, be a dear and make sure this deal is signed, sealed and delivered. I’d hate to destroy you.”
Amanda’s eyes widen as a maniacal smile spreads on her face.
“Don’t you worry a thing, Syrus. This one’s in the bag.” She says with a breathless moan that makes Syrus caress her cheek.
OH. MY. GOD!
But before I can double over and retch, Syrus shoots me a look and with that, he’s gone.
Silences stretches between my mother and I for what feels like forever. Until she turns to stare at the fire hissing and crackling in the fireplace, her cigar still in her mouth.
“You know, I don’t even like these. They send me back to a time in my life I swore I’d never re-visit.” She says, but I don’t really think she’s taking to me so I remain mute.
Watching her.
“It was all because of him.” She continues but just as quickly, she snaps out of and spots me still standing there.
“What? Did you want Trumbull to drive you to the hospital since you can’t do anything your fucking self.” She questions, her eyes blazing with fire from hell.
I’ve never hated my own mother like I do right now.
She’ll get over it. She has to.
I love you.
Fuck!
Everything in me is demanding that I turn back and go back for her.
Every fucking thought is on her and about her.
Every part of me yearns for her.
If I close my eyes, I’m thrust back to a few minutes ago, in the fucking cold wind, with my girl barring her heart to me with every molecule of her being.
I can still see the desperate yearning in her eyes.
I can still taste the bitter pain and heart break on her tongue with each word that she uttered.
I love you.
Fuck!
What have I done?
I can’t get those words out of my head. I can’t get the feel of her heart breaking along with mine, or the way her soul shattered at my feet, the cold breeze blowing the pieces away.
I love you.
I flinch, the words echoing around me as I punch the hell out of the punching bag that I hung in the garage three years ago. It was actually George’s idea who thought I needed to vent my stress of not having Star with me.
And now, I’m losing her. The irony is not most on me.
I take out my phone, wanting to call her but that will just make it worse. I have to do this. I have to fucking do this now. For her and for us. I wasn’t there to protect her before but I will now.
Will she ever forgive me, I don’t fucking know but that doesn’t stop me from dialing her phone.
Which rings and rings and rings.
I blow out a frustrated breath and then try calling her again.
“Pick up baby.” I mutter under my breath but this time, it goes straight to voicemail as if she switched it off.
A violent shudder moves through me as agitation holds me with a tight grip around my neck. I feel like I’m suffocating. She’s suffocating me.
I could run over to her house right now and fucking apologize and tell her exactly how I feel too, but even as I think that, I can’t help but be reminded of the other messages on my phone.
Messages that I can’t ignore.
Threats that are more than real.
“Ahhh!” I growl in frustration, throwing my damn phone away against the opposite wall, the length of three cars, away.
She didn’t cry though. She held it all in, her eyes blank, those sparkles like that of stars, completely gone, matching the starless sky above.
Everything is desolate.
Everything is pointless and I can’t make it stop.
Make it fucking stop in here!
I pound my chest again and again but nothing happens.
After what feels like hours later, I shake my head, as if trying to shake it all away but it doesn’t go away. I walk over to pick up the damn phone that didn’t break or crack at all. If only other things didn’t break too.
I need to come up with a plan to get my girl because that, what just happened tonight, that felt a lot like the end.
I fucking refuse that!
There’s no way that it’s the end. No fucking way.
She will get over it and forgive me. I just know it.
She loves me after all, she doesn’t really have a choice. She said so herself.
I make my way into the fucking house but as soon as I pass through the doors, I knew he was here.
From the moment I step into the damn house, I can sense that trouble is finally here.
Could this night get any fucking worse? I don’t even have to look far, or crane my neck left or right to try and locate where he lies in wait, I just fucking know where he is.
All my life, I could sense him when he was near. But most of all, I knew exactly when he demanded my attention. But this time, I take my sweet time.
I go down to my room, take a nice long shower, all the while remembering the way Star’s sleek body moved against mine in this very shower. If I close my eyes, I swear I can still see her but before I can wrap my hand around my dick to rub one out so I can release all this pent-up stress, an image of her from earlier tonight flashes behind my eyes and they fly open.
I groan and I punch the shower walls.
Blistering pain moves through my palm but I ignore it. I have other fucking things to deal with tonight it seems.
I take my fucking time, knowing damn well that he is waiting for me. Probably sipping a quarter bottle of his fine, two century old scotch, brandy, whatever his fancy is tonight, I don’t fucking care.
All I know is, he will not have any more power over me. He knows it too. Which is why he isn’t down here, demanding that I be in ‘his presence’.
Asshole.
After my shower, I take a decoy to the kitchen, grab a can of beer. I drown that, trying to calm down all the fucking nerves and the adrenaline from earlier. Finishing that, I grab another one, feeling like I need something stronger or ten more beers to numb the pain in my chest.
Everything is going to shit and as I make my way to his fucking office, I know that my father’s presence here, tonight of all nights, is not a coincidence.
“Took you long enough.” He says as soon as I step into his dark office. The only lights coming from the ugly, green, shady lamps all over the large office like it’s a library. I hate this fucking room. I hate it with every breath in me and he knows it.,
It’s his place of power. His place of dominion so, he’ll wield whatever power he has for the limited time available to him.
I smirk, looking directly at him.
“I have better things to do than stroke your ego.” I say as I take a seat, cool and unbothered by his stare.
“We’ve been waiting for you.” My mother speaks up then. I look up at her, knowing damn well that my gaze is empty. I take her in, standing right beside my father, her hand on his shoulder.
That’s when it fucking hits me like a damn electric current.
My body tenses.
Denise has her hand on Philip’s shoulder.
What the hell is going on here. But I remain calm, drinking my beer, taking my fucking time to respond.
“Yeah, and why is that?” I question, forcing my tone to remain cool and detached. Something is going on here.
My mother never, and I do mean NEVER, shows any forms of marital affection to her husband. I don’t even think they have shared a kiss for as long as I’ve been alive so now to see them be near each other like this, with their sharp eyes trained on me. . .
Dread soaks into me. I grab hold of it, not trying to ignore it. It’s better than the look on Star’s face when I dropped her off at her house.
“See son, I’m sure you can feel it in the air that the time is up.” My father says, as he stretches in his large office chair that I hate. The same chair he is always in when he thinks he is giving out commands like a royal.
He needs a healthy dose of reality.
“Oh yeah, I saw that shit on Instagram. Hell, it was all over the news too.” I start, channeling Noah as I rack my mind of what the hell my father is talking about. “Hey Mom, did you catch Oprah’s speech at the Golden Globes?” I question, my tone dry and sarcastic as fuck. “She did mention something about the time being up of nasty men thinking they have power everywhere.” I watch her nose flare, her eyes hardening then I look at Philip.
“Is that what you mean? Father?” I mock, watching them both.
“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Alexander.” Denise chides, her eyes narrowing.
“I don’t think you want to discuss low forms of wit, mother.” I shoot right back, drinking my beer casually.
“That’s enough!” My father’s voice booms through the office, but this time around, it doesn’t chill me to the bone, making me want to crap my pants like when I was younger. His voice doesn’t frighten or move me at all.
What does though, is this unity going on between them.
“Alex, if you can refrain from leering at your mother every chance you get, then this might get over quickly. We don’t have much time to end those bastards.” He leers, now reaching for his tumbler with. . .yeah you guessed it, three fingers of a dark drink.
“End what exactly? Your life?” I mock, watching him as my hold tightens around the can.
Philip knows I can’t fucking stand him. If my father dropped dead right now, he knows I wouldn’t even react in anyway. Except maybe tossing his disgusting, lifeless body to the vultures in the desert. Where his flesh can be eaten out over days on end, hoping his fucking restless soul that will probably end in hell, watches the entire thing.
“No. Your father and I have waited a long time for this day.” Denise says, looking down at me.
“Well go on then, did you want a drumroll?” I mock again. “Out with it.”
“It’s time for you to execute the final part of the assignment your father gave you a long time ago.” She carries on, without batting an eyelash. “It’s time to destroy them and show them who the fuck we are!”
I ball my fists, feeling my nose flare.
“So, let me get this straight. You, and your entitled self worth, glorified stick that is stuck up your ass.” I say looking at my mother and then to my father. “As well as your scumbag of a husband, you both think that you can declare something and I will do it, huh?” I chuckle, shaking my damn head in the process.
“I mean, ‘showing them who the fuck you are’ is sinister as hell.” I mock, making air quotes as I say that, gripping my beer. “Damn, your plans are really smart, Mom. But, that’s small thinking. I’m very disappointed in both of you.” I tsk as I stand up to leave.
“Sit your ass down, we’re not done.” She seethes, watching me.
“What are we waiting for then? For one of you to die?” I smirk, watching them. “I know you’re waiting for Daddy dearest to drop dead, Mom. Have you tried poison?” I question and she gasps.
“Alexander King!”
I smirk, eyebrow arched.
“If what’s going on right now in the Fields mansion is a success, I reckon it’s your life that might end.” Denise says as she watches me, her eyes twinkling with evil knowledge.
My body stills. I stop breathing altogether as her words sink into me. The Fields household.
Star.
“I doubt you mean that literally.” I say, pretending to get comfortable in the chair and I cross my ankles, folding my hands like a preppy country club, rich boy. But inside, a war is going on. I fucking need to get out of here and go check on her.
I hope to God th
at nothing sinister is not happening. I can’t even imagine it if Star is in trouble. If at this very moment, her life is in jeopardy, then we all know it’s my fucking fault but the way both my egg and sperm donors are looking at me now suggests that the trouble is not physical.
It’s much worse than that.
“Go on, explain yourself.” I say, waving at the floor, my voice holding a cheerful note as if I’m amused.
My mother watches me as if I’ve lost my mind but Philip, he just stares at me with a knowing smirk on his face as if I’m amusing to him.
“You see son, at this very moment, Syrus Easton is in there with Amanda and her daughter—that I know you fancy. My clever guess is they are already negotiating the terms of their children’s marriage.”.
I stop breathing. My gaze hardens as I look at him, his words echoing around the damn office. And in that moment, I start feeling it.
Rage.
The thing about rage though is that, when it seeps into your bones and the rest of your system, it builds up slowly. But when it starts, it starts slow, like the twitchy of my hand, that I’m trying hard to control but I can’t stop it.
Philip smiles now, knowing that he has all my attention.
“Of course, by now you already know that Syrus’ son, Emmett stands to marry that poor girl. From my point of view, I think it’s going to happen.”
No, it’s not!
My jaw clenches but my eyes remain glued on my father as he calmly takes a sip of his drink.
“Knowing Amanda, she has already signed away her daughter.” My mother steps in, watching me as she goes for the gutter. “She is her daughter after all, no hate can separate that.”
I remain silent, my eyes still on Philip King.
“But, I know you have certain feelings for this girl and I would like to help you sort this mess out once and for all.” He continues, watching me now.
I tilt my head slightly to the left, watching him. Knowing that he will continue his explanation if you wait him out long enough. Philip King doesn’t know this but each time he wants to talk to me about his fucked up plans of world domination, I remain silent, eventually, he spills more than I know he intended to.
“Syrus and Amanda have been planning this for about two years now, thinking we don’t know about it.” He starts, leaning back into his chair, watching me. “But we do and we also know that your friend signed the marriage contract.”
Vicious Hate (Westbrook Blues Book 2) Page 34