“I think we should start with the basic fundamentals and take things one step at a time. I’m pretty sure we are in agreement about the size of the wedding. I really don’t want to go to Vegas, and a big flashy wedding just isn’t me. So, a smaller, more intimate affair is good for me if that’s what you want.”
“Whatever works, angel. I just want to make you Mrs. Alexander Stone. To officially claim you as mine,” he said with a coy smile as he reached up to cup my breasts.
“Stay focused,” I scolded and pushed his hands away. “I’m going to have to talk to my mom about all of this too. As much as she drives me crazy, I want her to be a part of it all.”
“Wow, I didn’t realize you wanted me to stop touching you so badly. Bringing up your mom? Talk about a mood killer.”
I shook my head and chose to ignore him, continuing to talk since I finally had his attention about what I wanted.
“I was also thinking about the stylist that’s supposed to come here tomorrow. Can I cancel the appointment?”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Well, I thought I could text Ally. I haven’t seen her in a while. If she’s free, I thought maybe she and I could go shopping tomorrow for a dress for Matteo’s grand opening. She probably needs to get one too. And…” I paused, suddenly feeling sheepish.
He looked at me quizzically.
“And what, angel?”
A slow grin spread across my face, the abashed feeling being replaced by unexpected excitement.
“We can’t have a wedding if I don’t have a dress,” I explained.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me that I can’t go with you.”
“Of course you can’t go! You’re not allowed to see the dress before the wedding!” I exclaimed, totally aghast at his suggestion. “I’ll just be trying to get ideas anyway. Who knows? I might not even find anything I like. And then there’s the issue of bridesmaids and groomsmen. If we decide to have them, I haven’t really thought about a color scheme. A shopping trip might give me a starting point at the very least.”
“You’re rambling, Krystina,” he said and began to laugh. It was a full, throaty sound that was contagious and I found myself laughing as well.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so carried away.”
“I don’t mind at all, angel. Your enthusiasm is a welcomed change. But if you insist on shopping without me, I do have one condition.”
The sudden wave of laughter I had a moment before came to a screeching halt and I immediately sobered. I knew what he was going to say, but I asked anyway.
“What’s your condition?”
“Hale and Samuel have to accompany you.”
I knew it. So much for a girls’ day.
“Both of them?” I asked, genuinely surprised that he would think I needed two security guards.
“Yes, both. Samuel is a little wet behind the ears. While my expectations for him are clear, shadowing Hale for a day or two will be beneficial. However, I understand that having them there might seem intrusive. I’ll make sure to tell them to stay out of sight. You won’t even know they are there,” he tried to assure.
“Hmmm…we’ll see about that,” I murmured. I tried to imagine how two men, as tall and broad shouldered as Hale and Samuel were, could manage to stay hidden in a dress shop. The idea was almost laughable.
“I’m happy to see you show some eagerness for the wedding, angel,” he told me as he tenderly tucked a stray curl behind my ear. “Is this why you’ve been so distant whenever I’d bring it up? Because you want to have a say?”
“Yes,” I told him with a nod, pleading with my eyes for him to understand.
He ran his hands up and down my arms softly.
“Why didn’t you say anything sooner? I thought you were just trying to put me off.”
I closed my eyes and released a sigh. Shifting so that I could lay back down beside him, I nestled into the crook of his arm and placed my hand over his heart.
“I love you so much, Alex. I didn’t mean to seem like I was putting you off. I can’t wait for the day I become Mrs. Alexander Stone. But I know how you need to be in control. I just let it go too far this time. Before I knew it, I felt like I was suffocating. I’m sorry for not speaking up sooner.”
“I will admit, you’ve been a royal ball of sass these past few weeks. At least now I know why,” he said with a light laugh.
“Let’s not fight anymore,” I told him and snuggled in closer.
“I’m a realist, Krystina. I know with you that will never be possible.”
“Maybe,” I admitted with a yawn.
Alexander tucked the satin comforter around us, wrapping us together in a tight cocoon. My eyes grew heavy as I stared out the massive windows that covered the far wall in the bedroom. Wispy clouds moved slowly over the quarter moon, mesmerizing me into a near dreamlike state. When Alexander reached up and began to stroke the top of my head, I sighed in contentment.
“At the risk of sounding like I’m ordering you around, I’m going to tell you to go to sleep. You’ve had a long week and I don’t want you to be too tired for tomorrow night.”
“Yes, it has been a long week,” I agreed sleepily. “How do you suppose the turnout will be tomorrow?”
It was all I could do to stay awake to hear his answer.
“It’s my oldest friend’s restaurant and it’s named after my fiancée. Curiosity over that alone will draw a large crowd. The press is inevitable, but Matteo needs the publicity. All reporters that will attend have been thoroughly vetted. Still, you should be prepared for the gossip mill, Krystina.”
“People are so nosey.”
I could feel his chest vibrate as he laughed lightly again, but he never stopped rubbing my head.
“Yes, they are. But don’t worry about that now. Just go to sleep, angel.”
Not needing any further coaxing, I closed my eyes. Exhaustion hit me like a ton of bricks. In a matter of seconds, I felt my body slip away blissfully until all conscious thoughts ceased to exist, falling into dreamless and much needed sleep.
8
alexander
I place my hand on the knob.
Fear consumes me. I know what’s on the other side.
Justine.
And him.
I don’t want to open it. I know I have to because I’m the big brother. Justine needs me. The door swings open, but everything is wrong. It’s not my home.
What’s this? Where am I?
I see the river.
And then I see her! It’s my mother!
She’s standing near the water’s edge. I need to run. I have to get to her.
I run as fast as I can. Left foot, right foot, left foot. With every stride I take to close the distance, that flowing ebony hair gets further and further away.
No! Don’t go away! I’m almost there!
The muscles in my legs feel like they are on fire, but I need to keep going.
Almost there. Keep pushing.
I look down at my small feet, wishing that the tattered running shoes would give me more traction. I couldn’t wait for the day when I could make money. I could buy myself better shoes.
Clean shoes.
No more dirt.
No more holes in the toes.
But shoes don’t matter right now. I only have a little further to go. Propelling myself forward, triumph surges through me when my hand makes contact with her shoulder.
Finally. I’ve found her. My gut churns with nervous anticipation as she slowly turns toward me.
“Alex!” a voice calls from behind me.
Krystina. It’s Krystina’s voice. She sounds afraid.
I turn my head around to see what’s wrong, only to feel the woman within my grasp slip away from me. I reach out to her.
“Wait! Come back!” I cry out. But she continues to move away, so far that I can barely make out her silhouette.
“Alex!” Krystina calls again.
Torn over which
woman I should chase after, I look down in anguish only to see a pair of bright white track shoes on my feet.
Clean shoes. Adult sized shoes.
I’m not a child anymore.
I look up again at the slowly disappearing woman. I couldn’t reach her. I’ve lost my mother again. I have to go to Krystina instead. She’s my future. I need to get to her.
I run in the other direction toward the sound of Krystina’s voice. Daytime turns to night, and fog billows around me as I run. It obscures my vision and I can’t see her, but I can hear her shout my name.
“Krystina!” I call. “I’m trying to find you.”
“Alexander, you’re hurting me!”
I look around frantically. A roaring begins in my ears, fierce like the sound of a stampede.
“No, angel. I didn’t mean to! Forgive me, please! Where are you?”
“Alex, please!”
Her voice is closer now. I turn to my left. There she is, standing in a pool of crimson red, clutching her bloodstained abdomen. Tears stream down her face, but her expression is emotionless.
It seems to take forever, but I finally reach her. I’m frantic. She needs medical attention.
“Krystina, what happened? Who did this to you?”
She stares back at me, her deathlike gaze cold and vacant when she finally speaks.
“You did.”
I jolted awake, shock reverberating through my system. It took me a minute to collect my bearings. I glanced over at Krystina and saw she was sleeping peacefully. Breathing and unharmed.
Just a dream.
My heart pounded in my chest, but I was careful to keep still in the bed. I didn’t want another one of my nightmares to be the reason she woke. Not again. I tried to shake off the nausea, feeling repulsed by the haunting images that plagued me.
Rolling onto my side, I watched my sleeping beauty. Her peaceful and angelic face helped to calm the roaring pulse of blood in my ears. Her lips were slightly parted, and her steady breathing created the gentle rise and fall of her breasts. I wanted nothing more than to lose myself in her, but I knew she needed sleep. The fitful dreams that inundated me most of the night had woken Krystina more often than not.
My nightmares were the same as usual. They always began with the child version of myself reliving the moments before I discovered my father’s dead body, evolving into the adult version of myself chasing after my mother. However, the dreams had changed recently. Krystina’s face and voice was now intertwined in the web of images, causing me to wake up feeling fearful that she wouldn’t be there. I was afraid she wouldn’t be beside me in our bed. Or worse – that I had physically harmed her in some way. While every dream ended differently, there was one constant theme. Krystina was hurt, and I had been the one to cause it.
I rolled onto my back and tried to fall back asleep. Visions from the night flashed before my eyes. I could still see my mother running, her black hair flapping behind her in the wind as she ran. I could hear Krystina calling to me as I chased shadows into the unknown. I could almost smell the blood that dripped from her body. I turned my head to look at her once more, needing assurance that she was okay. That it was only a dream.
She’s here. Beautiful as ever, and present. Just relax.
But I still couldn’t shake off the unease. I glanced at the clock. It wasn’t quite five in the morning yet. I felt anxious, and my skin was covered with the sheen of a nervous sweat.
Giving up any thoughts of falling back to sleep, I rolled over and climbed out of bed. I had office work to do, but it wasn’t the distraction I needed. An intense physical work out was the only thing that would clear my head after such a disturbing night. If it weren’t for the fact that it was barely dawn, I would have called my trainer for a cathartic sparing session.
I quickly threw on a pair of gym shorts, left Krystina alone in her peaceful slumber, and headed toward my home gym in the penthouse. Once I was there, I went to the stereo system with the hope that music would drown out the sound of Krystina’s scared voice from my nightmare. I turned it on and Bastille blared through the speakers. Startled by the loud volume, I quickly lowered it to a reasonable level.
I pressed my lips together in annoyance. I rarely played music that loud. That meant Krystina must have used the gym recently.
I’ll have to remind her to turn it back down after her workouts.
How she found the time for a workout over the past week was astonishing. It was no wonder she looked so tired. I made a mental note to monitor her gym time going forward. While I appreciated her desire to stay physically fit, she was pushing herself entirely too much and everyday my concern about her health grew.
After selecting a series of songs to accompany my workout, I stepped up to the treadmill. I began my warm up to the instantly identifiable voice of Sia, her raspy voice holding just enough dark qualities to match my mood. As the belt began to pick up speed, I thought about everything that transpired over the past few weeks.
Years of study allowed me to take a step back and analyze everything rationally. I knew why I had nightmares. They were brought on by fear and childhood trauma. As to why Krystina was now manifesting in those nightmares was most likely due to fear and trauma as well. I had almost lost her in a near fatal car crash. The images of her being found in the trunk, her lifeless body and blood-matted hair, would forever be singed into my brain.
While she was now alive and well, I was still very much afraid. I was afraid of losing her, but in a different sense. I was afraid to lose her because of something I fucked up and was subconsciously terrified that my temper would get the best of me again. If that happened, I would be no better than my father. Krystina deserved so much more.
I didn’t need a shrink to tell me these things.
As my feet pounded through the last mile on the treadmill, sweat began to drip down the side of my face. I grabbed a towel from the handrail, wiped away the perspiration, and slowed the treadmill to a cool down.
Satisfied that my muscles were warmed up enough to go a round with the punching bag, I climbed off the treadmill and headed to the far corner of the room. As I made my way there, the ping from a cell phone notification sounded through the room. I picked up my cell that I had left sitting on the bench press and saw that it was a text from Hale.
Today
5:43 AM, Hale: A reporter got in to see Charlie yesterday.
I felt all the blood drain from my face, before it came roaring back with a vengeance. It went from ninety-eight degrees to two hundred twelve in less than a second.
Fuck!
Without hesitation, I dialed Hales number. He picked up on the first ring.
“I thought you had this handled!” I barked.
“It was handled, Mr. Stone. However, there was a new guard on duty yesterday. He just transferred in from another prison. I wasn’t made aware of him until the Correction Commissioner called me this morning to let me know that Charlie had a visitor.”
I slammed my fist down on the seat of the bench press.
“A visitor? It wasn’t just any visitor, Hale! It was the goddamn fucking press!”
“I’m aware, sir. I was assured that it won’t happen again. In the meantime, I already have a call in to The City Times. The reporter was Mac Owens. If he has anything substantial, I’ll shut it down.”
I considered the source to assess how bad the situation could potentially be. Mac Owens had been trying to dig into my past for years, but had little success. He was now with The City Times, a smaller newspaper with decent credibility. Their reporting was wide ranging, anywhere from national politics to local gossip columns. I knew I shouldn’t take the threat lightly.
“Hale, we’ve kept Charlie quiet for months. I’ll be damned if I let some rookie prison guard fuck it up. Keep me posted.”
“Will do.”
“I mean it. I want updates on every detail, no matter how small.”
I hit the button to end the call and fought the urge to throw the phone
against the wall. Instead, I tossed it back onto the bench. At that moment, I needed to beat the shit out of a bag until my fists were raw. Not bothering with boxing gloves, I stepped up to the punching bag and took a bare fisted swing.
Hitting the vinyl felt good. Almost too good. I beat at the bag, over and over again, looking for some form of cathartic release with every blow.
I need to fucking think.
A multitude of emotions pumped through my veins. Between the barrage of nightmares and the latest news about Charlie, my goddamn head was spinning. Images swirled. Krystina’s voice was a constant echo that I couldn’t push away.
“Alexander, you’re hurting me!”
I spun around and struck the bag with a forceful back fist and tried to erase the memory. I could still see the fear in her eyes, fear that mirrored my mother’s when my father came after her.
I am not him.
I turned again and landed a strong roundhouse kick, forcing the visions from my past to my more immediate threat.
Charlie. The fucking leach.
Just the thought of him sent me into a rage, causing the image of his face to project onto the bag. I imagined his bones and cartilage crumbling beneath my fists as I inflicted another punch onto the cylindrical bag.
My fury toward the man came from someplace deep within me. It wasn’t just about what he did to my sister, or about how he made her a victim in an endless cycle of abuse. It was also from what he put Krystina through, and from how I nearly lost her because of his greed. Just thinking about what could’ve happened to her, my angel, tore at my gut.
I threw another punch, even more forceful than the last, before I caught myself. I had to calm my temper and think this through rationally. I needed to regain control. I closed my eyes, took a few calming breaths, and resumed at a more measured pace.
Snap. One. Two. Three. Kick.
I counted the reps over and over again, using the tempo to simmer my boiling rage. Punches flowed freely, the snap keeping my rhythm flowing as I moved effortlessly around the bag.
Breathe. Maintain balance.
It appeared as if Charlie was back in the game again, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. His meeting with a reporter could only mean one thing – he was scared. Exposing the past was the only leverage he had left.
Set In Stone (The Stone Series Book 3) Page 6