by Scott, S. L.
“I think you and I both know better.” It slips out before I can stop it.
“We do, don’t we?” His eyes pierce mine, and he shouts, “Sit down!”
Two breaths. I keep him waiting for the count of two long holdout breaths before I move as I’m told, too scared to disobey. The blinds to the office are closed and no one can see in. My heart and mind plea for Alexander to walk in. Where is he? I’m in way over my head, and a sob forms in my chest but gets caught in my throat.
Taking the seat across the desk, he stares at me. “You have been a problem for me. On one hand, you’re my son’s girlfriend, and from what I gather, one he’s quite fond of. On the other, you’re distracting to both him and me. What do you think?” How am I distracting to him? Up until a few weeks ago, he’d barely spoken to me.
“I love your son.”
“I didn’t ask that.” Sitting back, he sighs. “In simpler terms, I’m not sure if I want to fuck or kill you.” My gasp loosens my sobs and tears threaten to fill my eyes. I refuse to show him weakness. “I don’t kill people, Ms. Grayson.”
Did he not kill Madeline Kingwood after all? Before I can really understand the depth of that, the reality of what he’s inferring clenches my heart, squeezing until the ache is felt tight in my chest. “I won’t sleep with you.”
A smile that is too relaxed for the circumstances crosses his lips. “I’m sure you’re aware that my son has become my enemy.”
“He’s your ally.”
“He’s on a mission to make me out to be a monster. It’s very troublesome.”
“You are a monster. If for no other reason, how you talk to me.”
“No, Sara Jane, I’m not. And some women find me quite alluring.”
“Most people would refer to them as paid escorts.”
He laughs. “You’re witty.” He bites back, “It will make fucking that sarcasm out of you that much more pleasurable.”
I stand to leave, his threat fueling my reaction, but freeze when he says, “Sit down if you care about Alex.” I glare at him but refuse to sit. “Alex may be my blood, but he’s his mother’s son.”
“You loved her,” I say, hoping to remind him of that love Alexander remembers so well.
“I did.”
“The woman you loved gave you Alex. How can you hate anything that came from that love?”
The harsh gulp I hear reveals the nerve I’ve hit. “Love destroys you, makes you weak. I’m fighting the only way I know how. Are you weak?”
“No.” Even I can hear the desperation in my voice. I need to get out of here.
“You say you love my son, but how much?”
My chest feels heavy with his implications, my breath hardening. I lower my head and close my eyes. I am strong. I am strong. I am strong. When I look back up, he says, “You are, but I’m stronger.” Shit. I said that out loud? He stands and walks around the desk.
My hands start to shake. “Please—”
“Please what, Sara Jane? Such a pretty name. Have I told you that before? Maybe I have.” His thigh is pressed to mine, and he reaches out to touch me. “You’re so pretty.”
“Don’t touch me.”
A chuckle lifts his gaze away as he steps back. The relief my body feels is emboldening, and I stand, refusing to stay any longer.
Death, control, and all the power he can gather takes over, and he grabs hold of my arm and squeezes. Hunger for more of all three is seen in his eyes. The man is a monster. “Or what?”
My sob finally escapes just when I think I can fight back.
Or what? What will I do? What can I do?
His laughter deepens but the darkness buried in his soul surfaces. It was so fast, I never saw him coming, much less the large hand when it dropped me to the floor. My knees hit the carpet between his desk and the wall of windows. My hair is grabbed. I start to scream but a large hand covers my mouth, and he pulls so tight that the pain stifles my ability to breathe. My skin stings from the slap against my cheek. This is what my gut warned me. Alexander’s father plans to rape me to grow the chasm between his son and himself. What man does that? How can someone be so depraved? Alexander, where are you?
With his acrid breath hitting my ear, he spins me away from the window to my feet, my back to his front, and says, “We don’t have to tell Alex. He doesn’t have to know. You have a choice to make. Save yourself or save him, but I will promise you this, if you scream, I will ruin him, and then I’ll ruin your family. You will be the only survivor watching as your world falls apart.”
My tears are bitter with betrayal, but I have to swallow them. “If I don’t kill you, he will.”
“Your threats are idle, Sara Jane. I can end him faster than you can call him.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Have you ever looked at someone and seen hate written all over their expression? Try looking at your own child who has looked at you like that for the last eighteen years.”
“Because you took his mother away.”
I was scared before. Now I’m terrified as his eyes bore into me. “You think you know what you’re talking about. My son is weak and has spread rumors to destroy me. He won’t win. I will. I’ll destroy what he loves most. Now bend over like a good little girl or you won’t see the light of day tomorrow.”
Pleading for my life, for Alexander’s, and my family’s, I say, “He’s your son. Your blood. Your only heir. For the love of your wife, why are you doing this to Alexander, to me?”
“You can make this easy, or I’m more than happy to oblige and obliterate your world. Is that what you want?”
“I hate you so much.”
“That’s okay. I’ve discovered hate tastes sweeter on the lips of the innocent. I take it you’re choosing to protect Alex?”
He yanks my hair back until the back of my head is on his shoulder. I grapple for the desk but I’m pulled back too far. Pain fills my scalp, but I refuse to give in to him. “It was your decision, and you’ve made your choice.” His free hand slides over my breasts and squeezes before trailing higher. He holds my neck tightly and I gasp for air. Is this how I die? Then he moves even higher, the salt from his fingers on my lips. “Now you’ll pay the price. Your tits for Alex’s tat. Sounds fair.”
He removes his hand, sliding it harshly across my lips while the heat of his other hand caresses my hip, my dress inching up. Then I’m left, my voice stolen with my pride and buried like my strength. I’m forced forward. My hands slam on top of the desk in front of me. His erection is against my leg, soon pressing into me if I can’t stop this. Memories and mantras flash like rapid fire through my mind.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am weak . . .
“I’m not leaving without Alexander.”
“Alex,” the lead bitch corrects, ending his name harshly. “And don’t worry, I’ll keep him preoccupied just like I have before.”
“Before me,” I correct, the whiskey giving me courage I wouldn’t normally have. He would have never been with me, like he was upstairs, and then move on with a cheap whore, like her. Never. Alexander would never cheat on me.
“No, honey.” She pats my head condescendingly. “Like I did a little while ago while you were preoccupied with the stars outside.” She laughs.
“You’re lying. He wouldn’t cheat on me.”
“You’re boring me just like your awful hair. Run along, Sara Jane.” She says my name with disgust.
“He’ll be looking for me.”
Her eyes remind me of a cat the way they tilt up at the outer corners. Her nails are painted a deep pink, closer to what I imagine the humiliation in my cheeks resembles. I’ve known girls like her, the ones who guys trip over themselves to talk to, the ones that put out, but pretend they’re virgins. “God, you’re annoying. You act like you’re somebody when you’re nothing. I know about you. You go to St. Mary’s, but you’re standing in the middle of my house like you belong, like you’re one of us—the upper
echelon of society.” Her arms go wide, her gold bangles clanging together. “Alex is known to slum it every now and then. You’re a passing phase, an easy target. You fell for his lines and money, just like they all do.” A drunk blonde sidles up behind her, her fuzzy gaze trying to intimidate me. “You can’t compete with us.”
“I don’t have to compete. I’ve already won. Isn’t that what you’re really afraid of?”
“Did you really think you’d be able to hold his attention? He’s a man, and you’re just a little girl who lucked into getting his attention when he was hard up. But don’t worry.” The words she spews are so easily believed by everyone, even me, when said in such a way as to demean. “He’s not hard up anymore. I’ve made sure of that so you can run on home and play with your Barbies while the adults stay. In other words, he doesn’t want you here.”
“He wouldn’t hurt me,” I say firmly. “I know Alexander.”
She reaches for the door and cracks it open. “You don’t know him well enough, sweetheart, because I just gave him a blow job he’ll be thinking about all night and begging for more in the morning.”
Doubt fills my chest, but I straighten my shoulders back and face my enemy head on. “He wouldn’t let you near him, much less touch him with something that’s used as often as a garbage disposal.”
I’m slapped, my head jolting to the right. “Get out,” she shouts. As soon as she says it, her mouth pops open in surprise. “Alex. I didn’t see you there.”
I whip around and find him standing at the front door. When our eyes meet, I see the fury flickering in his irises. They divert to the bitch that hit me. “Did you just touch my girlfriend?”
“It was an accident,” she replies with arrogance and a small laugh.
Before the laugh reaches her smile, he’s in her face, so close she can probably taste what she’ll never taste again—his breath. “If you were a man, I’d level you.”
“Alexander?”
When he looks my way, the lines in his forehead soften, and he smiles gently. He seems to collect himself, his disposition lighter. “Are you ready to leave, Sara Jane?” He reaches out and turns his palm up to me.
“I’m ready.” I rest my hand in his and go to him.
His arm comes around me, protectively putting himself between the jealous whore and myself. We start to walk, but he makes a point of stopping, and turning back. “And Lanie, go fuck yourself. Your mother was better.”
. . . That was the first time I ever saw Alexander hurt somebody—purposely hurt someone. Her reputation and pride were more damaged than she was.
The skirt of my dress is hiked to my waist, two of his fingers sliding between my exposed cheeks. “So pretty. So soft. You make me so hard. You’ve teased me too long. Have you ever been taken here?” I hear the zipper of his pants . . .
“Stop.”
I halt when he says to, not sure where to run to anyway. My hurt, my anger kept my feet running, but the burning sensation inside me isn’t from running. It’s from the truth piercing my heart. “You slept with her and her mother?”
Alexander bends, his hands resting on his knees. His breathing is as strong as the regret that rolls off him. His hands go to the top of his head, and he shifts. “I’ve told you I’m a fuck-up.”
“No, that’s an excuse you hide behind so you don’t have to expose real feelings. You tell me to bury my feelings, that they’ll hurt me, but it’s not my feelings that hurt me. It’s you.”
This is the first time I’ve ever seen him worried, worried he’ll actually lose me. “What do you want from me, Sara Jane? Tell me and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything to make this right.”
My tears were lost to the rain ten minutes prior when I ran away from him. Now standing before me, and me before him, I feel my age. I feel unworldly and inexperienced as the adrenaline drains away. I feel cheap and not worthy to be with the beautiful man whose secrets and lies cut deep. “I want you to love me.”
“I do, but I’m bad and you’re good.”
“What makes you so bad? What makes me so good?”
“Your heart. Yours beats strong while mine only murmurs. God, I love you so much, but love like ours is only meant for fairy tales. We live in reality.”
“We live wherever we want to live—fantasy, reality, fairy tales, happily ever afters—”
“Nightmares, horror stories, star-crossed—”
“Star-crossed doesn’t have to mean doomed.”
Holding my face carefully in his hands, he says, “Don’t you understand; that’s the very definition of star-crossed? Doomed from the beginning.”
“Then we won’t be star-crossed. We’ll be destined.”
“Don’t live in a fantasy world, Sara Jane. I will do anything to be with you. Anything. I love you that much, but for us to be together, I need you to do something.”
“Anything.”
“Live with hope, but be strong. Promise me you’ll be strong when you think you’re weak. Promise me you’ll be strong when you no longer hold on to hope. Promise me you’ll be strong when there is no other way to be. Promise me.”
“I promise. I’ll be strong when I need to be.”
. . . My chest shudders with a cry, my tears puddled on the glass in front of my face. My scrambling thoughts settle. I refuse to be weak any longer. I will not be a victim to this man, so I grab the only thing I can reach. “Stop!”
“Or what?”
Summoning Alexander’s anger when something of his is threatened, when something precious that only belongs to him has to defend itself, I push off the desk and turn around. With the expensive gold-tipped pen prodded against his neck, I come face to face with pure evil, but this time I use Alexander’s words, his strength, and my power to keep my promise.
“Or I’ll kill you myself.”
21
Alexander
“We’re late.”
April doesn’t say anything. I’m sure being prompt isn’t something she generally concerns herself with. For the last two nights, she’s been in a hotel with Cruise checking on her almost hourly. I’ve not spent much time with her, but enough to want to help her clean up, something she says she wants. Two days—it’s working so far, even if she did pull a butter knife on Cruise at two in the morning when he busted her trying to slip out to find a hit of anything.
I’ve paid for the hotel. I’ll pay for her rehab. That’s the deal. I’ve been impressed with her determination to clean up, pretending the one incident didn’t happen. Something unexpected did happen though. Underneath the drug-induced filth and toil of her life, she’s a stunning woman. And fortunately the usual side effects haven’t become the main effects of her existence. I think there’s hope when the drugs clear from the striking blue of her eyes.
In the quiet of the elevator, I say, “You look beautiful, April.” I say it not because I have to, but because I want to. I have a feeling she doesn’t hear many nice things these days. When was the last time anyone said anything nice to her?
A smile, though small and shy, makes its way across her face. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You’ll still pay for my rehab and set me up with an apartment like you said?”
Stepping off the elevator, I stop to finish this conversation before we go any farther. “I will. Full rehab and one year of apartment rental. The rest is on you.”
“Thank you for helping me. You’re kinder than your father.”
I’ve visited her twice in the last two days. She wouldn’t talk at all the first day. The second she talked about a family she once had. I don’t know what it’s like to lose everything, but she gave me an idea. What she refused to talk about was my father. It was frustrating, but she doesn’t owe me anything. I’m hoping tonight will change things. Remind her of what I need without causing too much pain in the process for anyone. It’s a move my father would pull, which worries me. I don’t want to be like him, but sometimes we have to be what we aren’t to get what
we want. I try again by asking, “You seem to know a lot about him. How do you know him, April?”
She looks away from me. “Everyone knows your father.”
My father, the famous widowed millionaire—money, looks, and a prestigious name. The full package by everyone’s standards. If they only saw what I see, the cunning man behind the myth. Checking my watch, I don’t have time to dig into this anymore. Cruise arrived ahead of us to pull my father aside. I want this done before Sara Jane arrives, but we’re late. I’ll keep her waiting to handle this first, then join her inside the party.
When we walk across the main floor, the lights are dim, the music from the party is loud, and Cruise is waiting on us.
He meets us halfway and does a double take. “She looks different,” he says before his eyes shift to me and back again.
“Is Sara Jane here?”
“No. I scoped out the party. Neither is your father.”
“Good. Let’s go to his office. He’s probably in there hiding from his employees.”
“He’s not exactly liked.” Cruise is staring at me, so I finally snap, “What?”
April remains quiet by my side. He glances to her and then shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“Then stop staring, and let’s get this over with.” Cruise steps in line and we take a sharp right and make our way to my father’s office. “You’re going to take April back to the hotel. The rehab place is expecting her in the morning.”
The light is on in my father’s office, but the blinds are closed. I’m not surprised. He’s probably fucking some intern before he announces the company is being sold off for the price of its parts.
I’m hoping April’s my smoking gun and ready to talk once she sees him. I know there’s more to their story, and I want to find out. Between April and him, I’m determined to get answers once and for all. My father has despicable people working for him, and I know one of them knows something about my mother’s death. His dirty deeds are coming back to haunt him, his sins are about to be exposed, and I might finally get justice for my mother.
Refusing to give him any more respect than I have already, I push open the door. As predicted, he’s found some easy target to play his sick sexual games. Her dress is up and her bare ass pressed against his glass desk. He’s leaning forward, positioned like he’s ready to fuck her. I laugh, loving that I messed up his plans. Though not announced, our entrance wasn’t quiet. When he doesn’t even bother to acknowledge me, I spit, “Get your whore out.”