by Nadia Lee
What does that make me other than a contemptible, weak-willed creature? I swore I’d never let a man reduce me to that, but as long as Lucas is within easy reach, I’ll give in. I just know it.
I have to leave.
Chapter Four
Ava
The road is dark as I drive. It feels familiar somehow, but I’m not certain if I’ve ever driven here before. The grass along the edges is shaggy, like hair badly in need of a trim.
Then I see a car—a black Mercedes. Instinctively I know it belongs to a woman, someone beautiful, sophisticated and worthy of a man like Lucas.
My soul shrivels as it stops in front of his house, the engine cutting off. The door opens. I look away, not wanting to see…
Suddenly I’m back on Darcy and Ray’s porch, my feet cool on the wooden planks. The day’s bright; early morning sun shines through a wispy shroud of clouds. The sight of the black Mercedes dims my mood. What’s it doing here?
Lucas stands before me, a pot in his hands.
“I’m in love with you,” he says.
I can’t see what’s inside the pot, but surely nothing’s there. He doesn’t want me, not the way I want to be wanted. He’s just saying that because he needs me to get the painting.
But I’m not strong enough to resist his words—the five most precious words in the world.
Tell him he’s poison. Tell him it’s over. There is nothing between you. Only you think you have something, and you’ll end up suffering because it’s just not true. When are you going to wake up?
But I can’t. I’m too weak to resist him.
Tears spring to my eyes. I let them fall as my legs fold. “I love you too, Lucas.”
His face splits into the most blinding smile I’ve ever seen. Unable to stop the tears, I soak up its radiance on my knees, enraptured like the humblest worshipper before her god.
He brings the pot forward. In the center of the dirt is a small green sprout, so precious, so full of potential. Suddenly my heart is bursting with joy. What we have isn’t a one-way trip to misery, like I feared. There is something we can nurture and grow. In time it’ll become stronger, nourish our souls.
The black Mercedes vaporizes, turning into tendrils of coal smoke. Everything vanishes, leaving only two of us. And it’s enough. I need nothing so long as I have Lucas.
I raise my hands to touch him. But somehow he’s beyond reach. I stretch, but he’s just at my fingertips. We’re so close I can graze my nails against his skin.
“Lucas.” His smile only grows more brilliant, and my desperation mounts. “Don’t move. Let me hold you.”
The beatific expression still on his face, he shakes his head. “Ava, surely you know this can’t last.”
Apprehension frosts my mind. “What do you mean?”
“Look at us.”
And I do, really do. He glows like the sun, while I’m dim and drab in cheap, clearance-rack clothes. My hands are work-rough, and I know without having to look that my teeth are nicotine-stained, like my mom’s.
“How can there be anything permanent between us? When are you going to wake up?”
“Lucas… You said you loved me.”
“Love doesn’t last.” He holds out the terra-cotta pot. The green sprout is no more. In its place is a brittle brown thing, withered and without hope or future.
Lucas gazes somewhere beyond my shoulder with tender longing, and I turn and see Faye walking toward us, her eyes on him. Stylish stilettos exaggerate her pelvic swing, and she looks like something out of a movie. She is soft, all feminine curves, with a sweetness that says she’s lived a pampered life. Diamonds on her throat sparkle as she lays a hand on his arm. “Darling.”
He takes the slim hand and kisses the knuckles. “Love.”
Something inside me shrivels and dies like the shoot in the pot. Somewhere Mia cries, and Lucas stares at me dispassionately. “You should’ve known better. A baby was never going to be enough. There’s nothing of worth you can give me. You just aren’t good enough, and nothing’s ever going to change that. When are you going to wa—”
I jackknife up. Sweat has beaded on my skin, and my clammy nightshirt sticks to it. It’s barely six. I rub my eyes, take a deep breath.
It was just a bad dream, nothing more. I should go back to sleep. My plane didn’t land until almost midnight in Dulles, and I drove over two hours to reach Ray and Darcy’s home afterward in a rental car. It was easier than trying to get a flight that would bring me all the way to the small airport in Charlottesville.
But sleep is the last thing on my mind.
I put on workout leggings, a shirt and a pair of running shoes. If I can’t sleep, I might as well get some exercise.
It’s still a bit dark, but the streetlights illuminate everything. The air is crisp but feels cleansing as it saws in and out of my lungs. I put my body on autopilot, letting my feet take me wherever as I focus on the rhythm of each stride.
Some time passes, and I suddenly realize I’m in front of Lucas’s house. In its driveway is the sleek black Mercedes—not Lucas’s—I saw last night coming back from the airport. Although Lucas’s home isn’t on the way, I made a detour because…well, I don’t know what I was trying to accomplish. It’s not like I was planning to resume what we had.
I swallow. Maybe I needed a sign that he’s fine without me. Concrete, undeniable proof that he lied when he told me he was in love with me.
And here it is. Whoever came in that car last night has clearly stayed for breakfast. My muscles tense, and I’m forced to admit my restlessness wasn’t because I haven’t exercised in a while or the nightmare unsettled me. It’s because I kept thinking about this damn car.
Whose is it? The license tag is Virginia, and the first three letters are YME. Why couldn’t it be a vanity plate? Then I’d be able to guess what kind of person owns it.
My instinct is to say Faye Belbin—the woman Lucas took to high-society functions while he was fucking me in my shabby college apartment. I can’t remember if Faye had a Mercedes when she came by a few weeks ago—I was too upset to notice—but she could have. She’s a wealthy woman and knows how to treat herself. A black Mercedes would be perfect—expensive and luxurious, just like her.
Imagining Lucas with Faye, laughing and rolling around in bed, sends jealousy spiking through me. My eyes start to tear, and I slap both cheeks hard to stop myself from crying. What is wrong with me? This just gave me the affirmation I sought—he lied to me when he said he was in love with me. I was smart to rebuff him. The alternate scenario—the one from my nightmare—is too horrifying.
Telling myself I’m fine—because really, I am—I spin around and start running again. I can survive Lucas Round Two. I’ve survived worse.
A couple of blocks away from Darcy and Ray’s home, my lungs are burning and the stitch in my side is too excruciating to keep running. I pause with my hands on my knees. As soon as I can breathe without feeling like I’m going to pass out, I’m going to walk the block and stretch.
The sandstone-colored sidewalk looks orange under the slanting rays of the just-risen sun, and some ants are already busy dismembering the carcass of a beetle. A car slows and stops behind me. The door opens and closes, and apprehension runs a finger along my spine as I straighten up. Charlottesville is a very safe town. But that doesn’t mean it’s totally crime-free. Even a city as safe as Osaka has its share of criminals.
“Ava Huss?”
I turn and face a tall, dark man. He’s dressed in a cream-colored cashmere sweater and black slacks that lie neatly over his long legs. His dark hair is cropped with care, framing his handsome but unsmiling face perfectly. It’s so familiar that I feel like I’ve gone back in time.
I must be hallucinating. There’s no other explanation for me seeing the son of a bitch from the hospital two years ago. “Blake?”
A corner of Blake’s mouth tilts up into an arrogant smirk. “You’re not too terrible looking. I guess I can see the attraction.”
“Are you here to harass me the way you did two years ago?”
He frowns.
I cross my arms and continue before he can get a word in. “Well, you better think twice. Google told me you people are loaded. I’m sure you don’t want to be sued or have your names dragged through the mud. That would make it harder for you to marry in the next few months, wouldn’t it?”
He comes closer, until he’s less than a foot away. I stand my ground, knowing that if I take a step back, I’m conceding to him. I’d rather die than concede anything to this bastard.
He stares into my eyes, and I meet his gaze head-on. His lips twist. “You really are a viper, aren’t you? It amazes me that Lucas doesn’t see that.”
“Don’t you dare call me names. He lied to me.”
He snorts, rolling his eyes. “You’re such a self-centered little bitch, you can’t even admit you did anything wrong.”
My hands clench into fists, and it’s all I can do to restrain myself. I would give half my savings to knock that superior expression right off his face. “Me? You have no idea what Lucas did to me. He got me fired from one job, and an offer rescinded for another, all in order to drag me back home. He lied about being in love with me while he had another woman waiting on the side. And it was all about those damn paintings—the paintings that you guys are going to inherit by marrying.”
“Ah.” He cocks an eyebrow. “So that’s why you set him up to fail. Did it make you feel good to see him work his ass off over that stupid pot? I guess you gold diggers have an instinct for nice guys. I sure as hell wouldn’t have done it.” He raises a forefinger. “Before you get all self-righteous, understand one thing. He never—never—needed you. Any of us can get a woman off the street to marry for a few bucks—which, by the way, is exactly what he should’ve done. You’re no better than we are.”
Blood roars in my ears. What gives him the right to talk to me like this? Does he think because he’s Lucas’s brother, he’s exempt from courtesy and minimal decency? “I am better than the lot of you. I would never use and discard people like garbage just because I had more money than them.”
He laughs. “How would you know? You don’t have enough money to treat anybody like garbage, my dear, and you never will. It takes millions before you can. You know why I hate all my father’s wives?”
The sudden change of topic makes my head spin.
“They’re all fucking users. I don’t understand why Lucas picked you—a woman who’s just like any of my father’s tarts du jour. He should’ve just bought you the minute he found you again rather than trying to cater to your sense of…romantic bullshit.”
I laugh in his face. “You’ll never find enough money to ‘buy’ me. I’m nothing like you people or whatever women your father married. If I’m so greedy and unethical, I could’ve just stuck around to squeeze a bunch of money out of Lucas.”
Blake smirks. “Could you? Really?”
“You have no idea.” I’m certain this smug bastard doesn’t know I was pregnant back then. “Asshole.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment and give you a friendly warning. I’m not going to sit around and watch you punish my brother for something he didn’t do.” He finally smiles, but it lacks warmth. “We’ll meet again, Ava Huss. Unlike Lucas, I’m not a particularly nice guy. Unlike him, I don’t fight fair.”
Sweat dampens my palms as he walks away. I told him what Lucas did to bring me back to the States—how he lied to me, manipulated me, stripped me of the means to support myself. But apparently none of that matters to Blake.
When people threaten me, I generally shrug them off. Blake’s different. His quiet, measured tone states that he’s the dominant one with all the power. Destroying me would be as easy as flicking lint off a finger, and the instincts that kept me alive and relatively unharmed in the poor, rough neighborhood where I grew up clang a warning bell.
Blake climbs behind the wheel of the car. It’s black, and as he drives off the license plate starts with YME.
I watch the car disappear, my hands and legs trembling.
Then it hits me… Lucas never spent the night with another woman.
I shake my head. It just means he didn’t spend last night with Faye. It doesn’t change anything.
I can’t let it.
Chapter Five
Lucas
I feel almost human after some spicy tomato soup and scrambled eggs. Blake had a few bites, claiming that he wasn’t that hungry due to jetlag. Then he disappeared, telling me to eat to start making up for the last three days. “You can’t win a war on an empty stomach.”
Bossy bastard. But I have to admit he’s right about eating. I stand up and stretch my legs. Maybe it’s the full belly or maybe it’s something else—the weather is absolutely gorgeous this morning—but I feel more grounded. Stray thoughts are no longer tumbling around inside my head, and for once I have a bit of clarity.
Just then, the door opens and Blake walks in, bringing the cool breeze from outside with him.
“Where have you been?”
He dumps his keys on the narrow table by the door where Gail places the mail. “Just checking out the community. It’s surprisingly nice. Cheaper than Boston, too.”
I narrow my eyes. Blake’s passion is for technology startups, and I doubt that’s changed in the last two years. “Don’t bullshit me. Houses aren’t your thing. That’s why you have a special advisor handling your real estate portfolio.”
“A man is entitled to indulge his curiosity.” Blake comes into the living room and takes a seat. “Guess who I ran into?”
“Who?” I have a bad feeling about this. Blake is entirely too pleased.
“Ava Huss.”
“What the—? You went to her house? What the hell were you thinking?”
He snorts. “I don’t even know where she lives. Besides, do you think I’d be crass enough to do that? She was outside, jogging.”
I don’t understand. Ava hates jogging. She told me so.
Blake continues, “There’s nothing wrong with striking up a conversation.”
“So…how is she?”
“Fine. Better than you actually. At least her skin hasn’t been scrubbed raw, and she doesn’t look like she hasn’t eaten in the past week.”
I ignore the jab, relieved that she’s been taking care of herself. Knowing her terrible childhood, I don’t ever want her to go hungry. Then it hits me: he actually spoke with her, which makes no sense at all. “How did you get her to talk to you?”
“I said hello like any normal human being. You should try it sometime.”
I shake my head. “She hates you. Said you were nasty to her two years ago.”
“She mentioned something about that. The thing is, I really don’t remember. So yeah, I might’ve said something to her. Who knows? Couldn’t have been that important.”
His arrogance is breathtaking. “It’s because of you that I had so much trouble in the first place. You made her leave.”
“I didn’t make her do anything. She chose to go.”
What the hell? “You think she still would’ve left if you hadn’t said those things to her?”
He stretches his legs out and lays linked hands on his belly. “If she thought what you guys had was worth fighting for, yeah, she would have stayed no matter what I might’ve said. But she didn’t. Doesn’t that tell you something? Wake up, Lucas. Ava thinks you’re the enemy, and you’re treating her with kid gloves. That has to change.”
“Are you fucking serious? I’m not going to treat her the way you treat the women you sleep with.” Women are like condoms to Blake—one-time use only. “She’s special.”
“Uh-huh. And how did your special snowflake treat you when you showed up with that pot full of dirt? Did she light up and say hello? Or did she pull aw
ay like you were a slime monster?”
Dirty.
Don’t touch me.
What did I say about touching me when you’re dirty?
Don’t be greedy.
You’re toxic.
I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, my teeth clenched tight.
“What do you really know about her?” Blake’s question cuts through the ugly voices in my head.
I sigh. “Where are you going with this?” With Blake, there’s always a particular conclusion he wants to lead you to.
He continues, “You say she’s special, but you don’t really know much about her past, do you?
“She’s loyal. Caring. Capable of putting others before her. I don’t need more than that.” Those are the qualities that drew me to her in the first place. I’m not going to lie; her looks also had something to do with my attraction…but if I hadn’t glimpsed those other aspects, I would never have fallen for her as hard as I did.
Blake regards me patiently, like I’m five. “Anyone can fake that stuff. Look, you need to adjust the way you view this whole”—he gestures at me, in the direction of Darcy and Ray’s house, the whole neighborhood—“situation.”
“You’re giving me relationship advice now?”
“Somebody has to. And I’m not letting you continue with what you’ve been doing to yourself anymore.”
I cross my arms.
“Unless, of course, you think that what you’ve been doing is working.”
Touché. “Fine. Let’s hear it.”
“Unless you know your enemy really well, you can’t win.”
Some advice. Blake should never be a relationship counselor. “Ava isn’t the enemy.”
“Really? Then why don’t you have what you want?”
“What the hell kind of question is that?”
“A pertinent one. You have an answer?”
I have no good response to counter his crazy logic. “She’s who I want, except she thinks that I betrayed her. Goddamn tabloids!”
“Tabloids have little to do with it. Fuck decency and what the world says is fair. To win and get what you want, you have to be willing to go the distance. You have to use every weakness your enemy has, and you have to be ruthless. Zero mercy. Then you can win.”