Chapter 4
No. If you’re looking for Roman’s darling mouse, I’ll tell you like I told Sebastian, she checked out. Checked. Out. She’s done. Finished. Bermuda Triangle kinda gone.
She fought…for like two seconds. After that I suppose she realized this was a war she didn’t stand a chance in, her self-made hell winning.
Fuck. I forgot. I’m sure you already know, but I still need to get the formalities out of the way. You and I ran into each other in France, though I’m certain you don’t recall, and so without further ado, it’s a pleasure (No, it actually isn’t) to meet you.
My name is Mace.
I’m here as a by-product of Mac’s splintering sanity. You see, with the reality of what she allowed her life to become and she finally opened her eyes to her surroundings, she couldn’t swallow the truth…she went out of her way, bent over backwards, accepted the fact that the man she loved strangled and killed her last living parent figure in front of her while her jaw was wired shut by the hands of the same man.
Then. THEN…
He skinned her.
He shattered her bones.
He obliterated her virtue.
He swallowed any and every fiber of hope she ever clung too.
He turned her against herself.
And after everything he took away from her, he killed her.
THAT. That is when I was born.
Think of me as a sort of guardian angel, except I’m the baddest fucking guardian angel you’ve never met.
I’m here to cushion her blows. I’m here to take the punches. I’m here to withstand the hurt constantly fracturing her soul.
However, the main reason for my presence, is to make sure Ivy is kept away from both Roman and Sebastian. I possess not even the smallest modicum of maternal instincts. As far as I’m concerned Ivy isn’t my daughter. I didn’t foolishly fall in love with Lucifer’s Belial and procreate with the bastard, carry his spawn for nine months and then push her from my body. But Ivy is Mac’s daughter, and Mac is, well—as important to me as a daughter.
The only thing holding me back from annihilating Seb is my weakened state. You see, I’m a prisoner of Mac’s body. It’s utterly preposterous how much strength she’s lost in only 4 days. Not only physical, but emotional strength too. I knew when she purposely made her thoughts and memories loud enough to drown out the argument between the two men dueling for her heart, that when her eyes closed, the next time she opened them she’d be checked out and I would be the one behind the wheel.
This is not the outcome Mac preferred, but it is the one that will give her the greatest advantage. She doesn’t like having others step in and clean up her messes. She never has. But I’m afraid it doesn’t matter what she prefers. I’m not letting these men take any more from her, or break any more of her.
I was the presence who rose in the form of a phoenix from the ashes they left of her in their wake…and I’m not going anywhere—ever.
The doorknob silently turning sends malicious excitement through me causing my eyes to flash with a sinister flare and flicker towards the door. When I see who my next visiting prey is, delight ignites within me.
I remain as still as a waiting predator, my eyes, following the red haired waif floating through the doorway, are the only part of my body I allow to move. Her eyes are obviously unaccustomed to the pitch black darkness currently consuming the room, the proof of this is in her awkward slow movement as she stumbles into several pieces of furniture while making her way to the bed. When she’s close enough to see my deviant, watchful eyes she gasps before nervously laughing as she rests her hand across her chest and speaks, “Dear Lord, child, you almost gave me a heart attack! What in Sam’s hell are you doing in the dark?”
When her hand moves to turn on the lamp, the venom in my voice lashes out, “Don’t.”
Her hand freezes an inch away from the lamp as her widened eyes shoot to mine. After a staring contest that she almost immediately folds and loses two seconds in, she nervously laughs again, “Ms. Heather, there’s no need to continue to lie here in the dark, child, really. Now, we have some things to discuss, and because of their importance I refuse to have this conversation in the dark.“ The entire time her hand has remained an inch from the lamp.
When I see her entire body tense in my peripheral vision, I drop my voice to an even darker shade of sinister, “I fucking said don’t. I understand you hoped you and Heather would form a quasi-sister bond in which she would come to respect you and hold your opinions highly, however it’s time YOU understand she is no longer with us. Heather, or Mac, or whoever your brother manipulated for the last year and a half, is now gone. My name is Mace, I prefer the dark because it helps me see you and every other prey that ventures onto my web before you’re able to see me. Your being here proves only one thing to me. You are just as much to blame for Mac’s being here as Roman and Sebastian. As far as I’m concerned you’re even more to blame. At least when Roman was wreaking havoc on her mind, body, and soul, he never allowed her illusions of him to be anything other than what he really is. Now, stay right there, leave the goddamn light off, say what the fuck you came to say and then get the hell out of this room before I walk you through the process of having the skin stripped from your backside before your face splits as it meets your fiancé’s desk.”
This woman I’ve come to know as Lizbeth, stands to her full height. She remains as still as a statue as I’ve instructed, her shoulders back and her head held high. However, her eyes refuse to meet mine and remain cast downward. “I-I…I just wanted to let you know, contrary to your belief, I am here as a friend, not an enemy—“
“Friend?” My taunting tone elicits the reaction I was baiting from her, causing her to become flustered and fidget as if she’s now finally realizing whatever upper hand she believed she held prior to entering this room no longer exists.
“Y-y-yes, a friend.” She coughs clearing her throat before continuing, “Sebastian has given me the duty of making sure you are taken care of, if you need anything, anything at all, let me know and I’ll see that you’re provided with whatever it is.”
She attempts an extremely awkward curtsey before turning to leave, when she’s less than two steps to the door, I speak, “Good. Inform your brother you will need the following to make sure I’m taken care of: a change of clothes as well as a suitcase packed with the essentials. An inconspicuous vehicle, several credit cards and a driver’s license with the name Mace Winters. I will no longer need you, Roman’s, or Sebastian’s help. I have a daughter to take care of, and I plan on setting those wheels in motion to do just that as soon as possible.”
When she hesitates at the door and moves to turn around, I stop her rebuttal instantly. “Don’t fucking mistake who it is you’re up against, Sister dearest. It will only end very badly for both you and your brother.”
Her voice is so quiet I barely make out her uncertain words, “I’ll see—I’ll let Sebastian know, child.”
As the door closes behind her, my cynical laugh echoing through the dark room perfectly represents who the fuck these amateurs are now dealing with in Mac’s place.
Chapter 5
Picture frame after picture frame in every color conceivable holding thousands of pictures. Some have captured a person aware their picture is being taken, but most are not. My eyes scan across the wall at my left holding my oldest shrine, Roman’s shrine, before my gaze settles on my newest shrine, the wall to my right dedicated to my beloved Mac and her daughter, our daughter, Ivy. When Mother and Sister come into my sanctuary, the only place I reserve for myself alone, both clucking like mother hens.
Their presence interrupts me mid-epiphany, one where I realize I’ve never had anything I could truly call my own. From the time I was seventeen years old, the only thing I ever had was a fundamental need to own the life that belongs to Roman William Payne. When my eyes settle on Mac’s wall, it dawns on me for the first time ever that Mac can be mine. Mine in a way that has no
thing to do with Roman. Mine in a way that has everything to do with only her and I.
Yes, her fragile mind has become an obstacle, however what is truly worth having if it isn’t worth fighting for?
And if there is one thing I know for certain, it is Heather Mackenzie has and will always be, the only thing I will fight to the ends of the earth for…even if it is Mac herself I must fight.
“SON! Are you listening to me?!” my mother rants at me.
I chuckle while blowing out the candles lining the mantle on the wall to my left before slowly turning around.
“Mother, we both know I am not. What in the hell are you nagging on about? More importantly, what in the hell makes you think you two can just walk into my sacred place?” My eyes narrow on hers.
Folding my arms across my chest, I lean against a bookshelf facing where they are hovering over the threshold.
“Andrew. He rang earlier. His orders were short, brief, and straight to the point. Roman needs a temporary mother figure for Winter Ivy until he is able to rein in his demons. I’m to board a flight in,” She looks down at her watch, “less than two hours and remain at Payne Manor until further notice. Of course I agreed.” She nudges Lizbeth in front of her and nods, “While I was busy on the phone, Lizbeth went to check on Heather, and instead of the timid girl you and I know her to be, imagine my surprise when your sister explained this. Go on, Lizbeth, tell your brother what you told me.”
My eyes cut over to Lizbeth but hers remain at her feet. “She explained her name was Mace then carried on threatening me and spitting out half truths before demanding a suitcase with clothing, false ID as well as a non conspicuous car.”
I watch as Mother’s trembling hands attempt to pour a glass of Brandy. She spills more Brandy on the dark oak table than in the tumbler held in her shaking hands before bringing the drink to her worried mouth.
Her brows furrow, revealing creased worry lines over her troubled eyes. Her anxious gaze lands on mine over the rim of the highball she is currently downing.
I nod, processing and accepting mother’s unfortunate and unforeseen duty and calmly adjust our strategy to allow this new plot shift Roman has introduced. “Mother, of course things proceed on my end as planned. I made it this far while you diligently bowed to Roman’s every demand and desire, and I’ll continue to do so. My plans with my soon to be wife will remain unaltered. As for you? When you get your ‘until further’ notice, you and I will then regroup. It’ll be at that time, Mother, when you will have no choice but to lay your cards on the table, and after thirty-five years of catering to the son you always wanted, you’ll be forced to finally let him see you for what you truly are. What you’ve always been and what you’ll always be. The whore who not only lied to father and son, but also carried, gave birth to, and kept his bastard brother hidden away from the world.”
“Sebastian, you know I never meant for my sins to affect you. I will do as I’ve been ordered by Roman to do, and I have no problem informing Roman of the truth when the time comes. But this woman you so gallantly strive to protect is not worth the risk. Her stressed mind has become so weak, she’s now retreating into her own thoughts and creating personalities strong enough to deal with the things she isn’t able to. Son, she’s gone damn ‘Sybil’ on us.”
I shove my weight from the bookshelf and make my way to the door, before exiting the library I tell Mother over my shoulder, “You have things to do and a flight to catch. I prefer you to leave as soon and as quietly as possible.”
After Mother’s departure, I inform Lizbeth to continue with dinner as planned. I’m uncertain of how to succeed in making Roman’s Heather, my Mac. This leaves me with no other choice than to borrow a few pages from Roman fucking Payne’s book of crazy, and I abhor myself for it. After I’ve made sure Lizbeth has delivered the dress to Mac and she’s been instructed to wear it to dinner tonight, I make my way to the master suite to shower and dress for this evenings events.
Dressed in a dark gray suit instead of my preferred jeans and V-neck t-shirt my feet falter slightly as I stride into the dining room when I notice Mac isn’t already seated at the table. My temper flares as I note she isn’t even in the dining room. She never displayed this type of behavior in Roman’s presence.
As my mind begins spinning in a web of rage and irreverence it takes every molecule of my being not to fly into a rampage when she waltzes in with defiance rolling off of her in waves dressed in faded blue jeans and an old GNR t-shirt…barefoot.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I demand, “Darlin’, just what the hell do you think you’re doin’?” As she walks past her seat at the opposite end of the table her hand shoots out and grabs the chair before dragging it to the side of the table before tucking her leg under her bottom and sitting down diagonally from me. She then leans over and pulls the place setting in front of MY seat until it’s in front of her.
Her eyes move from the place setting and narrow on mine, “Fucking call me ‘darlin’’ one more time, and instead of allowing you to conjure up ideas of how you would love for me to bring you to your knees, I’ll give you front row seats as I clip your balls from between your pale thighs before playing ‘pin the cock’, with yours to a dissecting board resting on your lap.” Her salacious grin rivals the same grin I have seen on Roman’s face a thousand times, “Dissecting your cock would be a fascinating task I would truly savor as I take my slow sweet time, layer by layer, vessel and vein.”
Her words leave me without an appropriate response. Mentally I flip through scenario after scenario of how Roman would react to these words coming from his Heather’s mouth.
Our dinner is served and the entire meal goes by without another word spoken. Somewhere between the main course and dessert it dawns on me that Roman’s Heather and my Mac is no longer home.
This woman, this Mace she and Lizbeth have warned me about, is who I’m left with in her place.
After she finishes her dessert, she stands and her bare feet pad across the hardwood floor. Unable to allow her recent change in character to go unexplained, I clear my throat before speaking, “Mace, exactly what lead Mac to withdrawing so far into herself that you were left in her place?”
At the large double doors leading to the main sitting area she pauses, and just like I’ve seen Roman do a thousand times, she cocks her head to the side before calmly speaking, “Mac cared for you Sebastian. Against my better judgment and hers, she did care a great deal for you. And she would have happily followed your lead in these intrinsic master plans of yours, if only you wouldn’t have fucked everything up by doing two things even Roman was smart enough to never attempt. One, you made plans to completely alter her life without even granting her the courtesy of knowing you were about to rip her world apart, uproot her from her home, and make her a prisoner all over again in a new and unknown hell. Two, and this is where I come in, you foolishly separated a mother from her child, not even permitting her the small token of saying goodbye.”
Standing from my chair, I walk around the table, but before I’m able to take three steps her hand flies into the air, “Don’t. I’ll only warn you once, motherfucker. Don’t.”
Instantly my feet stop in their tracks, and I adjust my tone before asking in a soothing voice, “Okay, so how do I get Mac back? Am I supposed to take her back to Payne Manor and keep her hidden in the cellar? Kidnap Ivy and bring her to Mac, so she can raise her daughter hidden in a home that belongs to the real monster, Roman?”
Her fucking sinister laugh has the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.
Her voice splits the air between us, “This is why I preferred Roman to you. He wasn’t a sniveling little pussy and a fucking moron. No, Sebastian, there is no fixing your lapse in judgment. I do hope it calms your fears to know that I’m not going anywhere and Mac will not be coming back, but I have a sneaky suspicion you won’t like that statement.” She turns, facing me and the look in her eyes is cold enough to cause heavy dread to settle in my queasy sto
mach. “I want Ivy back in my care and back under whatever roof I reside beneath. Sebastian, I want that child as soon as yesterday. Understand?”
Before I’m able to respond she’s gone and I’m left staring at the space she occupied as she used every word spoken as a weapon, decimating any future plans I have had in place for my Mac from the moment I laid eyes on her.
Chapter 6
Ivy has been under Dolores’ care for over a year and a half.
And I am no closer to reining in my demons or the frenzied need clawing constantly beneath the surface of my skin as the urgency compels me to cleanse my hands coated in MY Heather's blood the only way I know how...with the blood of her doppelgängers.
Who am I?
I’ve never once tried to paint myself as anything other than a man forged in Hell. I never smiled and hand fed you candy coated lies.
You know exactly who I fucking am.
You’ve known from the moment you read, “Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Roman Payne.”
Don't glower at me! I warned you, did I not?
I fucking warned you!
I never warned myself though did I?
I don’t know who I am, or what I am…
In one sentence, if I had to say who or what I was, it would be, ‘I am a man who held everything he ever truly wanted, but was not strong enough to hold on to it, or smart enough to fight for it. My fears and self-hatred caused me to do what I’ve always done, fuck it up to hell and back, because under this façade of the man you see, I- unlike you- know exactly what lies beneath.
Since I have allowed myself to become slightly intoxicated, I believe I have the right to ask you a single question.
When you look at me, do you see any remnants of a man worthy or capable of redemption? Even though he is at fault for the demise of the woman he loves and her happiness.
Roman's Redemption: Roman: Book II (Roman's Trilogy) Page 3