Shame (Ruin #3)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “Actually, I have a lot of work I still need to do.” I pointed down at my iPad and shrugged. “Can we catch up later this weekend?”

  “The benefit this weekend.” Wes didn’t even blink. “Your dad said he’d send a rep. I’m guessing that rep is you?”

  Damn it. I really needed to learn to check my other calendar. “Yeah, most likely.”

  “Great.” Wes stood and held out his hand.

  I shook it firmly.

  “See you Sunday!”

  He motioned for a redhead to follow him; his wife, I guessed. She was tall, lithe, gorgeous, pretty much exactly the type of girl that I’d imagined Wes would settle down with. I’d seen her enough on the news to know they were an ideal couple, and I shuddered to think about how crappy of a friend I’d been when Wes had gone through his cancer. Yeah, I’d sent him cards and called a few times, but nothing compared to actually being in Seattle while he struggled. No, the only thing that could have brought me to Seattle was my own selfishness.

  Gabe and Saylor, another couple who had been on the news non-stop since it was discovered that the pop star was actually alive and not dead, followed them out, both offering me tentative looks as if they weren’t quite sure if I was a friend or someone they needed to steer clear of. It’s possible it was because I wasn’t smiling and probably looked about ready to break my pen in half — not their fault. Mine. All my fault. Like everything else.

  Gabe stopped at the door and turned, giving me a curious stare. And the funny thing? I imagined in that moment, that I was normal again: I was working on the hill, doing what I loved, doing what I believed in. I would have been friends with them. After all, I’d had loads of friends, family, coworkers. That’s the thing about life. You don’t realize what you have until it’s completely ripped away from you.

  Or until you find out the brother you never knew…

  Was murdered.

  And your father tried to cover it up.

  I’d always wanted a brother. And now I had nothing. Nothing. Before I’d even started, before I’d even got my hopes up, all hope had been stolen from me by a girl with black hair and shimmery blue eyes.

  I gripped the coffee cup tighter, my jaw popping in irritation.

  Time was going to run out faster than I’d anticipated. I could only keep a low profile for so long. Dad thought I was taking a much needed hiatus.

  And it was true. To a point.

  I’d take my vacation, then things would return to normal. Life would return to normal. Food would taste good again, and I’d stop feeling guilty for the life I should have saved. For the life I’d never known existed.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I was so drunk that night anything with two legs looked good. But I picked her, over and over again. Only this time, it wasn’t consensual. We were in the elevator. She’d said she always hated elevators, making my pleasure that much more heightened. I fed off her fear when I stripped her of her dignity. Then again, she’d stripped me of mine. Made me feel, when the last thing I wanted to do was feel — I hadn’t felt any type of emotion for a long time. It scared me. It made me want to hate her, hate her for being all the right things at the wrong time. So I raped her. I raped her twice. And I told her to say thank you when I was done. I was a beast, but damn, she really was my beauty. —The Journal of Taylor B.

  Lisa

  “I LOOK LIKE I belong in a romance novel,” I huffed, staring at myself in Kiersten’s full-length mirror. We were getting ready at Wes’s mansion. And when I say mansion, I mean straight up, HGTV, hold-your-breath, Jay-Z-ain’t-got-nothing-on-him mansion. I’d been around wealth all my life.

  It was nothing compared to Wes Michels’.

  Kiersten laughed and pushed me in the shoulder. “I remember a time not so long ago when you dressed me up for a party. Consider it payback.”

  I raised my hand. “Didn’t I also help with the wedding dress? So, technically, those two times should cancel out by default — meaning I shouldn’t have to wear this.”

  “What’s so bad about it?” She crossed her arms. Her dress was white, puffy, like something out of a fairytale.

  “It’s black,” I said, lamely lifting the lacy overlay with my fingers. The sweetheart bodice was so tight I could barely breathe. If she was Cinderella, then I was the evil queen. Granted, it was a black and white ball. I just hated black. Black reminded me of him, of his soul, of the things he’d done to me, of things he’d made me wear when he was in one of his moods, when he wasn’t happy — which was on a daily basis. I’d been too in love, too young, too naive to understand. Until it was too late.

  “Where’d you go?” Kiersten braced my shoulders. Her green eyes were wide with concern. “Are you sure you’ve been feeling okay?”

  Peachy, I wanted to say. Nothing like getting totally awesome stalker mail in my mailbox and dealing with a hot professor who looked like he wanted to kick my ass for breathing. Then there was Jack, who hadn’t left me alone since I’d helped him with his homework last week.

  If I was honey, he was a bumblebee. I mean, he was funny and cute, but I had no interest in guys.

  Another secret I’d kept.

  One that I’d lied about to make Kiersten think I was one of those normal roommates. Yeah, guys were hot; I found them attractive, but I couldn’t do it anymore. Last year, I’d actually almost puked on a guy I was making out with. I’d tried to have the meaningless sex, the crazy make-outs, and every single time I ended up so sick I’d had to leave.

  Probably why most guys thought I was a tease.

  If they only knew that their mouths reminded me of death.

  Their hands? Of rape.

  “Lisa!” Kiersten scolded. “This is a masquerade ball. Fun is kind of part of it. Think you can wipe that grimace off your face and pretend to have a good time? Leave all the homework stress here, and let’s go.”

  I looked down at the mask in my shaking hands. He’d made me wear a mask once.

  “You’re right.” I forced a silly smile. “Sorry. It’s just my classes are super hard this semester.”

  Her right eyebrow shot up. “Change majors.”

  I scrunched up my nose.

  “Okay, then your only choice is to have fun and be awesome.”

  “Fine,” I huffed, still clenching the mask in my hands as we made our way out of the room. Kiersten linked arms with me.

  “Whoa!” Gabe was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “Lovely, ladies, just lovely.”

  Saylor rushed up to us, wearing an awesome black-and-white-checkered dress that Alice would have worn in Wonderland. The overhead light flashed on the mask she held. Red. Why couldn’t I have a red mask? Stupid black.

  “Damn.” Wes pulled Kiersten away from me and kissed her across the mouth. “If I wasn’t already married to you, I’d ask again.”

  “Yeah.” I coughed. “So it’s not awkward at all being the third wheel. Totally fine with it, guys. Totally fine.”

  Gabe snickered while Wes gave me a shy look and shrugged. “Who says I don’t have a date waiting for you at the ball?”

  “Oh my gosh, Wes Michels! I knew you could do it!” I lunged into his arms and kissed his cheek. “You and your loads of money created an exact replica of Prince Charming?”

  He burst out laughing. “Nope.”

  “Channing Tatum?”

  The girls sighed behind me while Gabe huffed.

  “Sorry.”

  “Ryan Gosling?”

  “Naw.” He winked, clearly enjoying our little game. “But I think you’ll like him. After all, I’ve been told he’s really hot. Besides, I kind of grew up with him — well, at least went to prep school with him until his family moved away.”

  “Ah, childhood friend.” My eyes narrowed. “Admit it. You’re setting me up with the friend in high school that got no play.”

  “Actually…” Wes’s cheeks went a bit pink. “…pretty sure he got the most play in the entire school.”

  The room fell silent.

/>   Gabe walked up to Wes and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay, man. Let it out.”

  “How is that possible?” Saylor asked what everyone was thinking.

  “Hey!” Gabe crossed his arms and glared.

  “Trust me. You’ll see,” was all Wes said as we filed out of the house and into the waiting limo.

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to see, especially considering I was defective. The type of girl who couldn’t even kiss a guy without getting traumatic flashbacks. I was both a tease and a prude. How the heck had that happened?

  “To the masquerade, Govna!” Gabe shouted in a fake British accent once we were all seated inside the limo.

  I gave an exaggerated cringe. “And that’s why you never took any of those UK roles. Your accent sucks, Gabe.”

  He rolled his eyes, and everyone fell into easy conversation about the masquerade, about the money it was raising for Gabe's foundation, about the new technology Wes’s family’s company was adding to all the local hospitals. They were like one big happy world-saving family. All doing something to benefit others, while I couldn’t stop thinking about myself, about my failure, about my sadness.

  Everyone was excited for the future.

  Everyone but me.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Tell me a secret,” I whispered in her ear. I was a collector of secrets. I used them as currency and knew if I had all of hers, I could own her like she owned me.

  “I don’t like being mean,” she finally said. “But I love you.”

  She was eighteen. She didn’t know what love was. If I was love, then she was seriously deranged, maybe even more so than I. Then again, I was a great actor. I was charismatic, good-looking, rich — and the best part? She had no freaking clue who I really was. Didn’t even know my last name. How great is that? I’d like to think that in the end, when this is all over, when I’m gone, I’d done one thing right. I’d at least protected my family from the demons. —The Journal of Taylor B.

  Tristan

  THE BLACK MASK covered up my entire face, leaving only spots to breathe and two holes for my eyes. My hair fell in waves over my forehead as I hurried through the doors into the main ballroom. Usually at functions like this, I had my hair slicked back, professional-looking, but I’d run out of time to do anything but leave it as was, which meant I probably looked like an untamed hellion.

  Everything was transformed. The Hilton hotel downtown may as well have been the setting to some regency-inspired movie.

  I was nervous. Not that I had any reason to be. It wasn’t like Lisa was going to be there, or that I’d have to fight that ever-growing attraction to her that pissed me off on a daily basis. Grinding my teeth together, I pulled on my white gloves then adjusted my black tie. My suit was head-to-toe black, custom-made, only something a Westinghouse would wear.

  After all, tonight I wasn’t the undercover professor. Damn, just saying it in my head sounded so wrong.

  Tonight, I was son to a very important, very wealthy man. And I had to play the part I’d been born to play my whole life. The part of perfection. Perfect straight smile, smooth talker. I wasn’t vain enough to think I was actually all of those things, but I knew damn well how to pull it off so that every single person within my vicinity was eating out of the palm of my hand.

  The orchestra played softly in the background as people swayed in rhythm in the middle of the parquet dance floor. The chandelier’s golden glow mixed with the silver moonlight dripping through the windows and gave the room a fairytale ambience. Tall, white-tapered candles stood at intervals across each buffet table, casting flickering reflections off silver chafing dishes.

  And the masks. Good God, the masks. They were everywhere, hiding the guests’ faces… and their secrets. The rich liked that — the masks. They made them feel mysterious.

  The place looked… nice. Then again, for five hundred a head, the place had better look nice. It was hard not to think about the money being spent, considering that was part of my job, though a small part. Make sure to throw enough money to make the family look good. Make sure that my father looked good.

  I made my way across the room, gliding between the bodies of people and sidestepped an elderly woman, only to run directly into someone in the process.

  Black lace brushed against my gloves as I lightly laid my hands on her petite shoulders to steady her. I cleared my throat and mumbled, “Apologies.”

  Bright blue eyes peered up at me through a black mask. It covered half of her face, making her red lips look so inviting I almost leaned forward to have a taste.

  “Oh.” Her voice was husky. “…it was me anyway. I can’t see out of the mask.”

  I smirked, still not removing my hands from her shoulders. “I’d keep it on.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Rules.” I nodded sternly then offered a smile. “You don’t want to be known as a rule-breaker, do you?”

  “Hmm…” She tapped her chin. “…that depends.”

  “On?” I leaned forward, breathless with anticipation.

  “What I get for breaking them,” she whispered.

  Her dark hair was pulled back into a low tight bun; pieces fell across her face, tempting me to tuck them behind her ear then kiss her until she begged me for more. My reaction to her was borderline-violent. I’d never felt such a strong attraction to a complete stranger — unless you counted Lisa, and counting her just pissed me off. She’d been his, not mine. And, if my suspicious were true, she’d driven him to complete madness. No thank you.

  “Dance?” I slid my hands down her arm then tucked her into my body, making it impossible for her to escape.

  “Is that within the rules?” she teased.

  “Only if we keep our identities hidden.”

  “Really?” She laughed. “Are you joking or serious?”

  “I never joke.” I shook my head and leaned forward, whispering across her ear. “But tonight, for you, I’ll do anything.”

  “Wow!” She pulled back and placed her hands on my shoulders as we fell into step with the other dancers. “You’re really putting on the moves, Mr. Rule Breaker!”

  “Ah, and here I thought I was being so subtle about my feelings toward you.”

  A splash of rose bloomed in her cheeks then faded. She broke eye contact, worrying her lower lip before her gaze flashed back to me as though she couldn’t resist herself. Maybe it was male pride speaking, but that was my desire — for her to be so caught up in the moment, in this moment, that she forgot herself, forgot everything but my hands on her. A buzz of awareness burst through my veins.

  “You’re beautiful,” I stated honestly, smoothly.

  “Um, th-thank you.”

  “I don’t believe in flirting or being coy.” I twirled her around twice then pulled her against my chest. “I believe in honesty and truth. When a woman smiles, and it takes your breath away, she damn-well better know it that instant. Otherwise, what’s the point in thinking it? The point in staring? I’d rather she be aware of her affect on me. It makes things fairer that way.”

  “Fairer?” she croaked.

  “For when I kiss her.” I twirled her small body again, and her dress swished against my legs. “It won’t be a surprise when my lips touch hers. It won’t come as a shock when my fingers graze her neck, now will it?”

  Her chest heaved. “I’m trying to figure out if I like your honesty, or if it’s a bit terrifying.”

  “Fear…” My lips grazed her ear. “…is a tool, not a weakness.”

  She jerked away from me so fast I thought she was going to tumble on her rear.

  “Wh-what did you say?”

  “It’s a common phrase.” Her face, or what I could see of it, had gone completely pale. I narrowed my eyes and leaned in for a closer look. “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah, just…” She removed her hands and self-consciously rubbed her arms. “Sorry. I’ve had a rough week.”

  I reached for her hand and tugged her back to my body.
“What happened?”

  “Sorry,” she repeated and laughed weakly. “I don’t make habits of confiding in complete strangers.”

  “I graduated with honors from Harvard, double-majored in psychology and law, and have had background checks on at least ten individuals at this very party. Security is waiting in every corner of the room for someone to yell bomb or pull out a gun, and I own every single one of them. I’m safe. Now… let’s talk about that week.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  I asked her what she thought about death.

  She shivered in my arms and said she didn’t like talking about it. Why discuss something so horrible when we were so young?

  I laughed along with her and kissed her forehead, my heart twisting in my chest as the demons told me to hurt her when all I really wanted to do? Lie next to her, touch her, make her feel safe, even if it was from me. Even if it would always be from me. Something was happening between us, and I was powerless to stop it. How do you stop the wind? How do you quit the rain? You take shelter, but what if the shelter is the reason for your downfall in the first place? —The Journal of Taylor B.

  Lisa

  “SECURITY?” I WAS probably gawking. Who the heck was this guy? I mean, I knew Wes and Gabe took security at their events really seriously. But who else was hosting? I tried to think back to the invitation. Had a third name been engraved on it?

  “You seem to be focusing awfully hard. Your week must have been hell.” His smooth voice drew my attention back to his face.

  I wasn’t one of the girls, the ones who fawned over male beauty. I mean, I’d been in the modeling industry since I was twelve. I saw pretty on a daily basis, but he wasn’t pretty. He was so far beyond good-looking that I had to keep averting my eyes like a total middle-schooler.

  Tall, muscular with beautiful thick hair that had twists of gold and copper, though it was messily arranged around his mask like he’d just gotten off a motorcycle and decided it was good enough. His hands were huge; they cupped my hips like they were made to fit my body. And his smile? Bright. Beautiful. Trusting. And, admittedly, I was a little frightened that my first instinct, my gut reaction, was to trust him, to follow him down the rabbit hole and ask for more and more until I was sated. I didn’t react to guys like that. His touch didn’t make me recoil, his smile didn’t leer, and he was honest about what he thought, saying exactly what he was thinking without hesitation. That type of confidence was sexy, and he wore it well.