The NOVA Trilogy Boxed Set

by Jayce, Aven

  “What do you mean, what do we do with her?” I ask. “What… you want to kill me? Then you have Mera to deal with. So kill her too, right? And then Devery will wonder where I am, so you’ll kill her as well.”

  “No one’s touching my sister,” Doron says.

  “Just post the damn thing and be done with the three of us, or at least Soph and Mera,” Cove groans.

  “Stop it, all of you. Dayne… come up with a different plan. We’re not going that route, but we need to discuss some things today. Think about how attached you are to Mera, and how we can remedy the situation. We’ll meet tonight at the house. Make sure Trey’s there.”

  Dayne’s only response is a deep sigh before he hangs up the phone.

  “Turn her around.”

  Doron swivels the chair and I’m face to face with the two men who I despise most in this world. Cove runs his hand through his hair then places his fingers up to his eyes, rubbing them free of fallen tears. He’s visibly upset, staring at the floor through the glass table.

  “I’m not sure I’ll make enough for this exchange to take place, plus it’s too high a risk to send my daughter and her friend out into the world after everything they’ve seen.”

  “Making a hundred grand isn’t enough?” I snap, my panic turning to rage, now able to breathe, but furious that I can’t move.

  “It’s not worth the security that’s involved to keep the two of you silent.”

  “I’d say I’m not going to talk, but whether or not that’s true, you wouldn’t take the chance, right?”

  He nods. “No. Not after the past week.”

  “You can triple your profit,” Cove suddenly says, sitting up in his chair and raising his head to look into my father’s eyes. “If you don’t think it’s enough then don’t just market the loss of my virginity, but market your daughter. That targets your entire company, and not just the NOVA followers of mine. People would flock to see the owner’s daughter, your daughter, Paul Jameson’s daughter, on an online site.”

  “What! Did you really just say that?” I shout. “Now you’re selling me off? You’re specifically marketing ME?” I try to stand, but Doron holds me down. My father swiftly leaves his chair and comes around to Cove’s side of the table, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of his chair.

  “Paul, you could triple your sales. That’s a good deal.”

  Paul’s fist hits him square in the eye. He slams his back against a window, and holds him by his collar. Cove turns away from me and closes his eyes.

  “Doron, take her to the house and keep her there until I get home. I’ll take care of him and the rest of our appointments for the day.”

  “Thank fucking God,” I say, finally able to stand and get out of the room. “I hope the two of you kill each other.”

  Doron laughs, leading me out of the office.

  “Sophia, wait!” Cove yells.

  I hear another smack as flesh meets flesh in the room behind me. Punch him back, stand up for yourself, I say to myself.

  A small part of me, a very small part of me, still wants Cove to win this game.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Doron pulls his Lexus through the black iron gate of my father’s home and parks in front of the four-car garage. We haven’t said a word to one another since we left the office, leaving Cove and my father to fight it out, or I should say, my father to beat the crap out of him. I sobbed the entire ride here, and now all I want and need is to see Mera.

  He opens my door and leads me to the solid, wood panel double front entry. Black decorative ironwork covers two small squares at eye level, giving a false sense of a window on each door. I watch as Doron types a code into the keypad on the sidewall of the entryway. There’s a click, and we’re allowed access to the interior space.

  Doron calls out for his brother as we walk in. There’s only silence. I’m immediately overwhelmed by the smell of vanilla in the home. The memory of waking up in Cove’s loft to the same calming scent enters my mind.

  “Mera,” I yell, listening for a response. Nothing.

  “It’s a big house,” Doron says. “You need to stay here until your father finishes his work at the Fox.”

  “Where am I gonna go? Besides, I’m not leaving this city without my friend… and Cove’s balls in a bag.”

  “That actually can be arranged so be careful what you wish for. Mera and Dayne must be busy. Feel free to explore, except for the third floor and your father’s office. Both of those areas are locked. I need to call my wife and take care of some business. All the exterior doors can only be opened with a keypad, so don’t bother trying to escape. I’ll be in the backyard by the pool if you need anything. Just knock on the glass doors and I’ll hear you,” he explains, walking through a massive open two-story great room. “Oh, and there’s no land line, so no need to search for a phone.”

  He reaches the back, presses the keypad on the wall and lets himself out. The door closes and I’m alone in my father’s mansion.

  “Mera,” I call out. “You here?” I listen, in anticipation to hear her voice. Silence.

  The great room is a cross between a medieval castle and a ski lodge. A staircase leads to a balcony that extends along the back of the room, leading to the left and right into separate areas of the home. There’s a colossal stone fireplace with a long sword that hangs above the mantle. An antique gun with a powder keg is above the sword. A beautiful gold-framed photograph of a woman shot in black and white is on the same wall to the left of the other objects. She’s nude, her chest pushed forward with her arms behind her body. She has her head tilted back and only her chin and neck are exposed in the shot. It reminds me of the photograph above Cove’s fireplace that his mother took of herself, and I wonder if this is also her.

  The walls are off-white stucco and a large iron chandelier hangs in the center of the room. A canopy attached to the ceiling is in the shape of a star, and each arm ends in a cluster of warm votive-shaped glass. Wide plank pine floors are stained dark and match the color of the overhead beams that run across the space. Natural light shines in from the glass doors that lead out back and a row of five small windows near the ceiling. I watch Doron puff on a cigarette as he talks on his phone. The backyard looks intimate compared to this enormous room. There’s a small pool surrounded by short palms and a high bamboo style fence. Small plantings, a grill, and some chairs also line the area. I see a lounger next to the edge of the pool and I imagine Mera’s been out there during the past two days.

  Dark brown leather sofas and chairs are placed throughout the great room and arranged in groups of four. One couch with a chair to its left and right, and another directly in front with a coffee table in the middle of each set. Four identical areas designed for people to congregate in small groups.

  A fully stocked bar is to my left with nine stools all facing a flat screen television. The rest of the space is rather bare except for a few indoor palms by the back door.

  There’s a hallway to my left and one to my right. I walk left and open the first door, stepping into a pitch-black room. Not finding a light switch I wait for my eyes to adjust. I can make out the outline of a large U-shaped couch and a few recliners. The room slopes downward into the darkness and I remember Cove mentioned a movie room in the house. This must be it.

  I close the door and open another. The walls are painted a deep red and a black massage table is in the center of the room with minimal objects placed here and there; a shelf stacked with towels and white candles, and a chair and coat rack in the corner. The next room is identical, only reversed with a red massage table and black walls. The final door leads to my father’s four-car garage. There’s a blue and white speedboat in the furthest space and a custom motorcycle for Jameson Industries in the next. I had no idea he had either one. The next spot is empty and in the space closest to me rests a grey Aston Martin. I wonder how I would feel about this wealth if its entirety were legal. Every object in front of me could be from NOVA. If that weren’t the case
, would I have expected my father to care for me forever, or would I actually become ambitious and have a career? And what now? I can’t live in that loft when I go back to St. Louis. Mera and I will have to be roommates again until we both find jobs. And what about Lewis? Will I ever see him again?

  Tears run down my cheeks as reality really sets in. I have no home, or job, or family, or boyfriend… only Mera.

  I close the garage door and walk quickly back to the great room. “Mera,” I shout. “Mera, I’m here.” Silence.

  I know she’s here. Cove said the house whores… God I hate that term; he said the house whores rarely leave.

  I walk through the great room and head down the other hall. The walls are covered in decorative brown and gold wallpaper with gold-framed paintings hanging every few feet down the entire corridor. There are no doors on the right. A dark shelf at waist level stretches a good twenty feet along that entire wall. The shelf has a line of evenly spaced white candles, with melted wax fallen down their sides. The base of each has pooled, merging candle to wood. When lit, I can imagine this hall resembles a church… or a séance. I walk past a suit of armor, something totally cliché for a wealthy man to own, and open the first door on my left. It’s a small room containing a wooden bench, a stack of towels, a row of hooks for clothing, a dark shelf full of white candles like the one in the hall, and a shower. One large glass-enclosed shower, placed directly in the middle of the far wall. There’s no sink, or toilet, just a shower. I’m suddenly overcome with a sense of unease and shut the door, moving quickly to the next in line.

  It’s a bedroom, or rather, a bed in a room. The walls are the same deep red as the one massage room on the other end of the house. The silk sheets are black with black, red, and gold pillows placed neatly against the headboard. Two black robes hang on hooks next to the door and again, there’s a shelf with white candles on the left wall. I feel sick to my stomach, as I think back to Cove’s guest bedroom and all the white candles that were lit on his dresser. I thought it was romantic, but now I can see that it’s all just part of the company. Like the tattoos on Mera and Cove’s bodies, the white candles are a signature of my father and his products.

  At the end of the hall is a manly half-bathroom painted dark brown with gold towels and a black sink and commode. I close the door and move on.

  A large gold ornately framed mirror greets me as I reach the back of the hall. My reflection reveals a distressed, troubled, and sad young woman. Mascara is smeared down my face and I lick my fingertip to wipe the black off my skin. It helps to improve my exterior features, but my insides are broken. Shattered. To think, just three hours ago I was madly in love, and making love to him.

  I turn away from the mirror and step into the final doorway of the hall, entering a massive dining room. The table that runs through the middle of the room is the same dark color as the floors, shelves, and beams throughout the house. The top is comprised of three thick planks laid side-by-side running a good forty feet in length. The thing must weigh a ton. The dark oak high-back chairs emit the same sense of power as the table they surround. I feel like I’ve stepped into a king’s castle and this is where the barbaric and bawdy men gather shamelessly in the evening for meat, wine, and women.

  The walls are stone, and there are no windows. It’s dark except for the light coming in from the hallway, and another open doorway to my left. I flip a switch and an enormous fireplace comes to life, with gas logs in the hearth and small white twinkling lights placed along the mantle. It casts a warm glow on my skin and flickers across the walls. I walk around the room, run my hand along the back of each chair, and search for any evidence that Mera’s been here, somewhere in this house.

  “Mera,” I call out. Is she down at this end? Still, there’s only silence. I thought both she and Dayne were here, and yet the house seems so empty and cold. I have no sense that there’s been any human presence in these rooms for weeks, months, possibly years.

  The final doorway off the dining area leads to a large kitchen with industrial-sized stainless steel appliances including a six-burner gas stove with red knobs. The counters are empty except for a bowl of fruit placed in the middle of the island. There’s not a crumb or a dish in sight. The view out the back window above the sink is just as sterile. A few palms, the trampoline Cove had mentioned, a small amount of grass cut to the length of a golf course putting green, and at a distance, far to my left, I see Doron still on his cell.

  My father’s home is not at all how I had imagined it. I thought the interior would be warm and alive like Leondra’s, yet stylish and opulent like Cove’s. A mix of the two. There’s no sense that anyone actually lives in this house, but rather people come here to work. It’s not a home, but a business. A massage parlor, slash sex hotel, slash meeting hall.

  I pass the fireplace, walk down the hall, past the suit of armor, and back to the great room over to the glass doors. I give them a hard kick with my foot. They’re unbreakable, of course, and Doron quickly responds to the noise. He turns my way and I flick my middle finger in the air at him. He grins and walks over to the doors waving his hand for me to step back. I kick the door again and he opens it, pushing me in and sliding the glass shut.

  “What the fuck you doing?”

  “Where’s Mera?” I demand. “She’s supposed to be here but this house contains nothing but cold air and silent rooms. It’s nothing but a fuck palace. No one lives here. Is this a front for the business, for filming? Cove said this was my father’s house but there are no personal items of any kind. So tell me what I’m doing here and where she is.”

  “Chill the fuck out, you bitch,” Doron yells. “Just because you’re a Jameson doesn’t mean I can’t smack you around to shut you up.”

  “You ass,” I shout, swinging my fist at his jaw. He catches my hand in mid-air. My arm is quickly twisted behind my back as he pushes me down onto one of the leather sofas. My face hits the hard surface and I howl from the pressure of his mammoth body on top of mine. “Ow, get off! You’re going to break my arm!”

  “Shut up and listen to me,” Doron demands in a harsh tone. “Calm down.”

  I struggle for a few seconds, certain that my arm will snap at any moment, and disgusted by the cigarette smoke that leaves his mouth and enters mine. I turn my head away and relax, surrendering to the titanic mass on top of me.

  “That’s better,” he says, stepping away from my body. I turn over, sit up, and place my feet on the coffee table, wiping my hair away from my face. “This is your father’s home, and he wouldn’t appreciate it if he found out you tried to wreck the place. You can’t break this glass. It’s like everything else in the house, once you’re in, you’re in. There’re only a few of us here, and your father has taken security past the human presence of Dayne, Trey, and myself. That includes the alarms, keypad security, windows, doors, and cameras.”

  “Of course he has cameras in here,” I groan.

  “This floor is for business. This is where we meet, party, and make money. That’s what our life and our company are about.”

  “My father’s company.”

  “Our company. The three of us started this and we’re in it together.”

  “Four. There were four of you, remember?”

  Doron sits in a chair across from me and sighs, shaking his head. “You know too much. That boyfriend of yours placed you in danger when he opened his mouth.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “So you just fuck random people? You should join the company if that’s the case. And anyway, we’ll see if he’s your boyfriend or not.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I sneer.

  “Have you been upstairs?” he asks, looking down at my legs. I realize with my feet on the coffee table that he can see under my dress, and even worse, between my legs.

  “Like what you see?” I ask, placing my feet on the ground. “No, I haven’t been upstairs.”

  “Then you haven’t seen the house. Before you try to break
through the glass doors and throw a bitch fit, you should head up those stairs,” he says, pointing to his right. “I’m sure the house whore is up there with Dayne.”

  “Her name’s Mera,” I scowl.

  “Well, she’s a house whore now, so get used to it. I don’t believe your father’s going to let the two of you leave for a while, so you’ll hear that term used a lot in this house.” His cell rings and he holds up a finger for me to wait. I lean forward about to rise, but he blocks my escape. I lean back and wait.

  “She’s on the couch. We’re in the middle of a little chat. And yes, she’s fine.” He looks down at me and then paces in front of the sofa. “I could have any woman from the company over here in a second, why would I touch your daughter, Paul.”

  “Tell him to go to hell,” I shout. Doron covers the phone and furrows his brow, shaking his head at me.

  “I think they’re upstairs… and don’t ask me to go up there. You know what a dick he is when people interrupt him.”

  I stand and Doron approaches, placing a hand on my shoulder.

  “Are you sure about that? She’s feisty.”

  I roll my eyes and exhale, knowing that the day’s not going to end without my fist firmly planted in someone’s face.

  “I’ll be right there,” he responds, ending the call. “Your father seems to think you’ll be fine on your own. I need to take care of some things at the office.”

  “Cove?”

  “Things. We’ll be back this evening,” he says, walking toward the front door. “Go upstairs. You’ll find your friend. She’s around here somewhere.”

  As fast as he’s out the door, I’m up the stairs. I head left at the top and enter a family room. Large windows run along the back wall filling the room with sun and warmth. Light-grey furniture is placed in the middle of the space with terra cotta colored walls and a room-sized, high-pile, grey rug covering the wood floors. Dark oak shelves line an entire wall and are full of books, photos, and small objects. The room is comfortable and bright, a place where I could easily chill out and read for a day. I explore a few of the shelves and see that the photos are of my father with well-known actors, football and basketball players, and political figures. Most are from the Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and St. Louis areas, but I only know that by the athlete’s uniforms, or city landmarks in the background of some of the shots. There’s also a photo of my father in college, with Cove’s father, Dayne, Doron, and their fraternity brothers all standing in front of their house. The three of them have aged well, still looking as fit and handsome as they did over twenty-five years ago. Cove’s father as well, although I only saw him briefly on FaceTime that one night when I stayed at Leondra’s. I find no photos of me, or my brother, Mark.