With You: With you, I am who I want to be.

by Jensen Kristyne

  I remember the field trip that Mason and I had attended here our senior year. The history of this place alone could fill its own textbook—and probably does. No wonder they use it to host the ball.

  "This is beautiful," Brielle utters from beside me. Her hands wrap around my bicep as we arrive at the top of the porch. I nod when we reach the front door and are met by a pair of men, passing out masks.

  "No, thank you." I close my hand over Brielle’s and hurry through the door.

  As if tonight isn't stressful enough, now I have to worry about even my enemies being concealed from me. We step inside the Manor, and everything is shrouded in darkness. The only light keeping us all from stumbling around in the pitch-black comes from the low-burning chandeliers, which are fixed with hundreds of candles and carefully hung within the grand ballroom. I lift my eyes up and see the high arched ceilings lined with dark, wooden beams.

  This is the perfect place to host a ball.

  It's fucking creepy at night.

  I can feel the stress starting to knot its way in the back of my neck, as the situation continues to become increasingly harder to control. Who the hell planned this thing? And where—

  "Hello, Son," I hear the asshole's voice the second we step into the room. I turn to my side and find him standing tall in his favorite black suit. A gold mask rests atop his face. "Do you like my little contribution to tonight's festivities?" He smiles grimly and points to his mask.

  Fuck. I should have known this was his doing. I roll my eyes. "It’s a little gaudy for my taste."

  I take a step in front of Brielle when I see his eyes slide to my side and rake down the front of her dress. The feral way his eyes pour over her takes everything I have inside of me not to walk over and beat his fucking ass right here and now. "The fuck are you—"

  "Theo, I'm thirsty," Brielle says. The sound of her voice pulls me back from the edge. "Come with me, please?" I pause and take a deep breath.

  "Well, you heard the girl, Son." My father grins, waving us toward the refreshment table. "Fetch."

  I squint, searching the features of his face that I can see for any sign of trickery.

  "Hey, man, you ready?" I turn my head to the side as Wes and Becks casually stroll into the room. They, too, have chosen a similar gold mask to wear.

  "Yes," I answer when I see my father's stance relent. Wes’s shoulders sag as if he’s realizing something. "We'll follow you."

  "Time to fuck shit up!" Wes shouts excitedly, as he and Becks maneuver their way around us. Brielle and I follow suit.

  "Are you okay?" I hear her ask after we make it to the refreshments.

  I let my eyes fall to the assortment of foods, while I try to think about how I can answer her without lying. The catered variety of fancy finger foods makes my stomach churn as my nerves rev up, thinking about just how poorly I’ve thought this all through. I should have just listened to Brielle when she said we shouldn't risk shoving our relationship in my father's fucking face.

  "Theo?" Brielle calls to me again. This time she lifts her hand and raises it to my face. "Talk to me."

  I search her eyes and feel the undeniable urge to tell her the truth—about the message I received, but then Becks rushes up to us. Her arm hooks into Brielle's as she begins to tug her toward the dance floor.

  "Come on Bree. Let's dance!"

  "Oh, maybe in a—" she starts, but I shake my head.

  "It's fine." I force myself to smile, nodding for her to go and have fun. "Go. I'll be right here."

  I watch my girl disappear into the mass of bodies as Wes and I stay off to the side. It works out perfectly, since I intend on keeping my father in my peripherals the entire time we're here.

  "Okay. Spill," Wes snaps, catching me off guard. His tone is more harsh than I expected as he steps in front of me, blocking my view of my father.

  The fuck?

  "Come on, what the hell is going on with you? B's right; something’s up."

  B? I roll my eyes. Fuck I hate the fact that he feels close enough to have given her a nickname. I’d be jealous if I didn’t know that he'd never be dumb enough to try anything, especially because he has Becks now.

  "Yeah," I say and sigh, letting my shoulders relax. "It's, um, it's my dad. He threatened Brielle."

  "The fuck?" Wes jumps back. His voice rises to the point where he’s almost yelling. "Why the hell would he do that?"

  I let my head fall back as my mind races with all the reasons why breaking the circle could inadvertently set off something I further can't control. But fuck it. With my father having made a point to approach me so early in the night, it couldn't hurt to have another set of eyes on her.

  "Because he's pissed I walked away from the business."

  "Holy shit." Wes's mouth drops. "You walked away? Away, away? Like, for good?"

  I nod. "Yes."

  "Fuck."

  "That’s about where I’m at." I inhale a deep breath. “Fucked.” The idea of asking for help kills me, but Brielle is worth setting aside my pride. "Would you want to help watch her for me?"

  "Of course, man." He raises his hand and sets it on my shoulder. "Whatever you need."

  "Thanks."

  I offer him a small smile just as there's a break in the crowd, and I get a clear shot of Brielle. She and Becks are holding hands, spinning around, dancing, as if no one is watching. Jesus. I drop my head. Seeing her so happy makes me regret not having the strength to walk away. In this world, you always have to watch your back. If you don't, you might never see the monsters that lurk within the shadows. Speaking of monsters . . .

  My mind snaps back like a rubber band as I lean around Wes and notice that my father has vanished. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  "What's wrong?" Wes asks, whipping his head from side to side, viciously, as if he’s expecting something to jump out at us.

  "He's gone." I feel my chest tighten when I turn my head back to the side, and I can't see Brielle.

  "Who?"

  "My fucking father!"

  I start toward where I last saw Brielle. I hear her before I see her, when she asks, "Who are you looking for?"

  At the sound of her voice, I instantly uncoil. I reach out with both arms and pull her to me. "No one. You."

  "Okay." Her voice is filled with skepticism. Thankfully, she doesn't pursue it. "Well, good timing then." She smiles. Her hands run down my arms until I feel her fingers lace with mine. "We were just coming to look for y’all."

  "Oh no." I shake my head, again. "No, I don't dance."

  She takes a step back and pulls on my arm. "Not even for me? Please?"

  Fucking hell. "Fine." I run a hand along my jaw, my face betraying me as I feel the corners of my mouth pull into a smile. Damn it. She's lucky I love her so damn much. "One song." I hold up a finger to her and clear my throat, trying to say it in a manner that sounds serious.

  "Uh, huh. Sure," she says, already pulling me back into the crowd.

  She's facing the opposite way as she leads me toward some unknown place. I tilt my head to the side and decide to take advantage of my time. I let my eyes fall to her ass.

  Fuck. I hold my breath.

  Maybe I should be more worried about how she looks rather than my fucking father.

  "Hey." I stop moving and wait until she turns back. Her expression is confused as she steps closer to me. The roaring music is even louder now that we're in the center of the dance floor. "Where are we goi—" I start to yell, before the music shifts and a slow song takes over the floor. And like a sick joke, most of the crowd dissipates. The only other people left are couples.

  I watch Brielle drop my hand as she walks up and wraps her arms around my neck. The feel of her body on me does things to me, and I hesitate to touch her. "Theo, relax," she whispers, her lips grazing my ear and sending a shiver down my spine.

  Groaning to myself, I lay my hands on her waist, the tips of my fingers digging into her lower back. "How is this?" I drop my head to hers. An inch is all that se
parates our lips, when I jerk her closer to me until her body is completely flush with mine. "Is this what you want?"

  "It's a start." She giggles in my ear, taking a step back. "But for now, maybe we should leave a little room between us." She turns her head to the side and I follow. The many sets of lingering eyes remind me that we aren't alone.

  I feel a small smile spread across my lips, letting the rhythm of the song lead me through the movements. We move in small circles around the room, dancing within pockets of light and dark. A sea of gold masks consumes the space around the dance floor and casts a chilling glare. We've come halfway around, when I see Becks shoot her eyes to the entrance, and nosily, I turn to see what she's staring at.

  Ah, fuck.

  "What is it?" Brielle asks when she reads my expression.

  Twisting around within my arms, she sees him. Luca. The fucking five-foot-ten, brown-headed, blue-eyed bane of my existence. Brielle drops her arms. As if she’s wearing a flashing neon sign, his eyes immediately find her. The expression he's wearing nearly makes me feel sorry for him. I know it too well. I lived it. Well, so much for this being a romantic moment. I pinch the gap between my eyes and try not to focus on how his presence is affecting Brielle.

  I watch him walk over to the refreshment table, and begin picking at the assortment of finger foods. My mind chooses now, of all times, to dredge up the conversation he and I shared on the phone. The one where he promised to respect our relationship as long as I promised not to break her heart. I inhale a deep breath.

  "Go," I say. My voice is as weak as my desire for her to leave me.

  "What?"

  Brielle turns around to face me. The slight smile she's fighting to hold back challenges my will to be a better man. I lift my hands to her shoulders and gently turn her toward Luca's direction. "Go," I repeat. "It's okay."

  I drop my hands, half expecting her to run to him like something out of those sappy movies she loves so much. But she doesn't. Instead, she turns around and throws herself in my arms, and kisses me.

  She pulls back with both of her hands holding mine. The bottom of her eyes well up as she takes a step backward before she turns around and makes her way through the crowd of people. I drop my eyes, realizing that I could have waited until after the song was over, so I’m not left standing in the middle of the dance floor.

  Alone.

  "Holy shit, Theo," Becks says as she and Wes make their way toward me. The two of them are moving as if they’re still drunk from last night. "That was epic."

  "Thanks," I say, cutting my eyes off to the side when I catch the tailored cut of my father's suit. He sees me watching him and adjusts himself. His steely gaze is unmatched to my own, as I fix my feet toward him. The look of malice is clearly etched across his face, reminding me of who my true enemy is. I take a step.

  "Whoa." I stop when I feel Wes's hand reach out and hold me back. "Do you really think that's a good idea?"

  I glance down at his hand and he removes it. "No. Probably not, but I have to try." I turn slightly to the side. "Just keep an eye on Brielle for me. I'll be back."

  "I will but be careful." He then adds, "This is the devil's territory."

  chapter forty-three

  THEO

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and breathe in, breathe out. I walk the distance to my father and come to a stop in front of him. A few of his “associates” step in between us, as if they’re worried I could blow up at any moment. They're wise to assume . . . because I could.

  "Ah, Son." The asshole crosses one arm over his chest as the other runs a hand across his salty stubble. "I had a feeling I would see you again. Where is the lovely—"

  "Save it," I say, exhausted with the tedious semantics. "Cut the shit, and let's talk."

  I listen as he lets out a chuckle, tapping his black patent shoes against the dark hardwood. He lifts his eyes to one of his men before motioning for me to follow him to an empty corner against the far wall. I check Brielle out of the corner of my eye and find her and Luca are still deep in conversation. I inhale another breath, then follow after him.

  "You always had a way with words," he says. A thin line of disapproval streaks across his face as he removes his mask. "What can I help you with, Son?" He runs his tongue across his teeth and sets his jaw. "I can only assume this meeting is in result of a certain little message you may have received about your pet?"

  "Don't talk about her like that!" I threaten. "Brielle isn't—"

  "Oh, but isn't she?" my father growls. The veins in the side of his neck threaten to pop. "I mean, what are we even doing here? You can't seriously be interested in pursuing a life with this girl, can you? You're not necessarily the marrying type."

  "And if I am?"

  "Please. We both know the Sutton girl will never truly accept who you are."

  "Her name is Brielle."

  He lets out a breathy laugh. "Come on, we can still salvage this." He extends his hand, pressing it to my shoulder. "Katrina would still take you back; you're a handsome guy."

  "You're unbelievable." I shrug his hand away. "Who the fuck are you to speak to who I am? You don't even know me. You never did." I feel my hands curl into fists at my sides. The skin over my knuckles strains as my fingers dig into my palm.

  "I care about you, Theo. I just don't accept excuses."

  What the fuck did he just say?

  Excuses?

  That's rich.

  I almost laugh when I think back to all the times he fed me one bullshit excuse after the other as he beat me like his own personal punching bag. The fucking bastard.

  "You don't care about me. All you care about is building connections and then extorting them." I spit out. He sets his eyes on something in the distance but I ignore it. "The fuck is it with you and the Overshires?" I ask, seeing his brows bunch up in anger. "What does he have over you?"

  Within an instant, that cool facade he likes to wear fades and he rushes me. He grabs at my chest and forces me to the wall, waving his finger in my face like the deranged man that he is.

  "Listen here, you ungrateful little shit. You should be thanking me," he spits out. The piercing green of his hazel eyes—now faded with age—are fixed on me as he glares in a way that's unsettling. "I gave you a life most kids could only dream of. What? You're going to cry about a few cuts and bruises? Don't be pathetic."

  I shove him back as he throws his hands down and adjusts his suit. A family standing next to a group of kids turns their eyes on us, hearing the commotion. He smooths his hair down, his cool facade returning. I watch him smile while one of the ball’s attendees passes by. His eyes slide back to me the moment she's far enough away.

  "The truth is, you owe me," he says, his tone rising. "Without me, who would you be? Nothing. I made you who you are. Everything you have—" he points to his chest—"is because of me."

  "Are you fucking joking? You think I should thank you for what you did?" I nearly jump him at the thought. "I was a child, you sick fuck. And you were an abusive drunk who never learned the meaning of the word ‘enough’."

  At that, he throws his head back, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes, and down his face. "You know, you're just like your mother—stubborn, selfish, and blind to the bigger picture."

  "Well, I guess I'll have to take your word for it," I say, remembering his story about how my mother's love for me made her weak. And in the end, that’s what killed her, not the cancer.

  "I loved your mother!" he growls, the gravel sound of his voice is almost inaudible. "But she wasn't bred for this life. Her death was inevitable."

  Inevitable?

  "I’m not here to talk about my mother." I shake my head. His constant need to evade the real issues makes me want to hit something.

  I watch as my father tilts his head to the side and squares his shoulders as if readying for a fight. But a commotion behind us tears his eyes away, as I watch the anger dissipate from his face. "No. Not now." He raises his hand, signaling his men to react.<
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  "Theo!" I whip around when I hear Wes call my name. The concerned look etched across his face makes my pulse race while I sweep my eyes behind him and search for Brielle.

  "Where is she?"

  I take a step toward him, when my father's men block my path. "I promise you, you don't want to do this," I say, and I fucking mean it.

  I hear my father tell them that it's okay and they step aside. I grab Wes by the arm and pull him off to the side, my eyes still scanning the room for blonde waves and green eyes. "What happened?" I ask, fearing the worst. My mind suddenly goes to a dark place when I think about the last person I saw her with. "Is it Luca? Did he do something?" I feel myself coming unhinged.

  Wes shakes his head, his bloodshot eyes widening by the second.

  "What the fuck happ—"

  "She's gone," he finally says.

  "Gone?" I repeat. "Like she left?"

  Wes shakes his head again. His chest rises and falls excessively. Has he been running? "Wes, spit it out. What happened?"

  "Luca and Brielle got into a fight, and when he went to leave, we lost Brielle in the crowd," he recites, like he had spent hours rehearsing. "I've looked everywhere, man. Luca's car is still in the lot but she's gone."

  The fuck?

  "How could she be gone if Luca's car is still here?"

  I rack my brain, waiting for something to click. But it doesn't take long as I remember the sliver of a moment my father was distracted.

  Damn it. I curse at myself, turning around and making my way back toward him.

  "Is there a prob—"

  My father starts to say, but before I have a chance to think about it, I rear back and slam my fist into his face. The slew of curse words he tosses my way next comes out in a garbled mess I don't have time for. He raises his hand to his cheek and rolls his jaw, staring at me as if he’s never been more proud. I fist my hand into the front of his suit and slam him against the wall, my forearm pressing to his throat. Hard. I can hear his men shuffle behind me, but my father tells them to stay back.

  "Where is she?" I try to keep my voice calm even though on the inside, I’m losing my fucking mind.