by L. J. Woods
“I got this,” I say, my hand on the knob. Taking a breath I turn it, opening the door into the hallway.
Be. Cool.
It’s empty, shiny floors and dim lighting like it’s a hotel, but I can hear Lea’s voice travelling down from the lounge at the end. My head down and hoodie on, I make my way towards her voice, Isaac’s getting clearer the closer I get.
When I get to the lounge, my outfit grabs the attention of Isaac and Christian first, Isaac’s eyes landing on my joggers.
“Jo?” Allie follows her brother’s eyes to me, sitting up. “Are you out? Can you leave?”
“Uh …” Taking a glance back at the empty hallway, I know I need to make this quick. Ten minutes. “I need to talk to Willow.”
Willow slips off her seat between the girls and the boys, walking over to the entrance. Her eyes wander my face before she takes in my outfit.
“What’s going on?” she asks. “Where’s Damien?”
Shushing her, I pull her down the hall and into a supply closet. This is the last place I want to be, considering how I got here, but getting caught is far worse.
“We’re leaving,” I say, her shoulders between my palms.
“Great! I’ll tell the—”
“No. We’re leaving,” I explain, searching her eyes to make sure she understands. “Eden. For good. Now. If they find out what happened at the school, Damien and I are toast.” Brushing a curly strand out of her eye it’s like I’m committing her to memory, my eyes studying her face. “I can’t have that.”
She pauses like she’s considering what I’m saying before she looks into my eyes, her eyebrows lowering. “No.”
“No?!” Now I’m the parrot.
“No.” She stands up taller but my fingers go to my head.
“Willow, this isn’t the time.”
“Why do I have to leave everything behind? Again?” A hand on her hip, she purses her lips, waiting for an answer.
“Because I’ll likely get locked up if you don’t?”
“You’ll be locked up,” she sighs. “But I’m not going. Not after all this. We move around way too much and I’m finally fitting in and—”
“I’m not leaving without you.”
“Well, I’m not going and I rather visit my sister in some cool city than behind bars.”
My brows furrow. “Are you serious?”
“As serious as grandma’s heart attack.” I watch her hands come to my shoulders, in the same position I have hers when I’m trying to be sincere. “Go. I’ll cover. Everyone here has my back.”
What? No. “Where will you stay?”
“Crashing in Eden is not at all like crashing in The Grove.” Willow shrugs, showing no sign of worry. “Besides, I still have the keys to King’s and they’re after you guys. Not me. I’m not even a senior.”
There’s a tear in my eye, a glob in my throat. “I don’t have much time, Willow. Just—”
“You’re not losing me, Jo.” She holds out her pinky, her nail a sparkly bronze and while I hesitate, there’s no way I’m leaving her hanging like this. “And I’m not losing you either, so go.”
“Willow.” I’m gripping her pinky like it’s my lifeline. “Are you sure?”
“Go, Jo!”
“Wai—” Before I can stop her, she opens the door, marching into the hall. “Willow!”
“Ow!” she screams from the hall. “Ow, I slipped!”
When I peek my head into the hall, Willow’s on the floor, holding her knee. A couple of nurses run to her and while they’re looking at her knee, she turns around and gives me a wink.
No fucking shit. My sister’s badass.
It’s like I needed her more than she needed me. Swallowing the glob in my throat, I take off down the hall while the rest of our friends tend to her. Allie calls my name but I keep going, finding the staircase.
Climbing down the few floors, it’s like I’m a real spy, dodging doctors, nurses and security cameras while I follow signs to the exit.
The door to a black car opens when I get outside in the fresh spring air, Damien making room for me in the backseat. “Get in, Rowland.” He holds a hand out and I reach for it. Cold and firm.
Freedom feels close. Freedom with my King.
Once he pulls me in, he wraps me in his arms, planting another kiss on my lips before he tells the driver to move. We whip down Eden’s streets for what could be the last time in a long time. Resting my head on him, there’s a flutter in my chest knowing we’re not going down with this town. As we get closer to the mansion, the conversation with Willow replays in my head.
This can’t be the last time I see her. I won’t let that happen.
“Grab anything important,” Damien says when we pull into the mansion driveway.
We’re quick through the front door, lavish foyer and chandelier greeting me as always. Turns out I never did fit into all this, and now, I can escape it—with him. My boots thud to our bedroom and while it feels more like Damien, the Sebastien vibe never really left and I’m ready for a fresh start. Since I didn’t come into Eden with much, I’m not leaving with much either. Rummaging through the drawers, I grab my comfy band tees before grabbing the framed photo from off the dresser.
Mom and Dad.
I still don’t know what the photo Damien has means and if we’re leaving Eden, I’m not sure I ever will.
Stopping into the guest room Willow’s using, I leave behind a couple of Mom’s rings. If I don’t make it back here, she can have me with her on her fingers.
Leaving the room, Damien passes me on the way to his office, a duffel bag on his shoulder. “Anything else?” I ask and it feels like we’re robbing his own house.
“There’s an emergency stash of cash in the closet in the third guest room. Grab it,” he instructs.
“Emergency stash of cash?” I repeat. “How much are we talking?”
“Go, Jo.” Damien rushes into the office while I go down the hall into the room I’ve never seen him use.
In similar King fashion, it’s decorated in white and black, this room is mostly white. Furry white rugs sit on either side of the white-framed bed, a large heavy-looking mirror to the side of it.
“Rich people,” I mutter, heading for the closet. It’s half the size of Damien’s but that’s not saying much. It’s still massive, tall white shelves and a marble table in the middle.
There aren’t any clothes on the racks but stacks of boxes sit all over. Damien wasn’t very specific with what to look for. Pulling out drawers and boxes piled towards the back doesn’t lead me to a big pile of cash.
“It’s better if you come in here and look for yourself!” I call after opening another box full of King Financial merchandise.
I’m not sure if he hears me but after some thudding from the hall, Damien’s in the room and the closet. Pine and peppermint take over as he presses me against the shelf, reaching high. His hair swoops over his eye as he does, his hoodie rising to reveal those washboard abs.
“You expected me to reach that?” I ask, his hard pecs pressing against my tits and it reminds me of how we met. In a tight space, just us two.
The knot in my stomach tightens, and I know this isn’t the time. But when he glances down, his eyes meeting mine, the way he bites his lip tells me I’m not the only one with dirty thoughts.
“What happened to your sleuthing skills, Rowland?” The duffel bag drops to the floor half-open, stacks of cash inside but Damien’s not focused on that. His hand comes to my cheek. “This is kinda—”
“Hot?” I finish, his eyes drooping as my hands roam up his hoodie, my skin on his. A finger trails those washboard abs, that lower ‘v’ until I’m walking them along his happy trail.
“Yeah,” he groans. “You like being a filthy criminal?”
“You’re the criminal,” I say, on my tip-toes so I can bring myself closer to his lips. “My criminal. My King. Are we really doing this? Running away together?”
“You better believe it,
Rowland,” he groans, his hand pushing my joggers down. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”
When he leans in to kiss me, I’m already reaching for his belt, our heavy breaths loud in the small room. He’s hard when I reach in, throbbing in his hold, and when two cold fingers come between my legs, he growls.
“I love how wet you get for me, Jo,” he groans, thrusting my fist as his fingers plunge inside me. “Even like this. You’ve always been as twisted as I am. You can’t help it.”
Kicking out of my joggers, I squeeze harder on his shaft, stroking it while he fucks my hand. “Shut up and fuck me while we have tiiiiiime.” He doesn’t take my demands lightly, his fingers thrusting inside me making my words sound like I’m in a musical.
He hoists my legs around him, and when I let go of his cock to hold on, he pushes inside me like he couldn’t wait a second longer. “Fuck, you feel so good, Jo.” His hand on the shelf beside me, he holds on while he goes from sixty to one-hundred, his hips gyrating and moving like an overworked engine.
“Fuck me!” I cry, not caring that we’ve both just ran from a hospital. Not caring that my back is pressing into two rows of shelving, wood digging into my skin with every thrust. It feels too good to care. “God, yes!”
My nails graze his back and that only gets him going harder, his breaths heavy on my neck when he sinks his teeth in. My thighs clench hard around him, my head hitting the shelf, eyes on the lights that blur when he’s hitting that spot just right.
“Holy fuck,” I moan, the doorbell ringing but he doesn’t stop. Pushing me harder into the shelf so he can push his fingers through my hair, bringing my face right back down to look him in those eyes. “King!”
He grunts, rosiness in his cheeks, want and desire in his eyes. “Come.”
And I do, on-demand like fucking Netflix. Damien keeps thrusting until my pussy clamps around him, and I see fucking god. It’s like the room shakes and when he explodes, his warm load oozing inside me, it makes me forget about all the pain. All the trauma. All that’s left is him and I, becoming completely undone, together.
Thud!
“What the fuck …”
A small box falls from the top of the shelf, hitting Damien in the head as it tumbles to the floor. Once it hits the wood, the top flaps open, a few polaroids flying out. One lands face up and it brings me right back to reality, shivers still going through my body.
One that looks familiar as fuck.
Ding-Dong!
The bell rings again but we’re both too distracted to hear it.
Pulling out, Damien turns around, his eyes on the photo. “What the fuck?” Fixing his pants, he reaches for it as I’m pulling up my joggers.
‘What the fuck’ are my thoughts exactly.
Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong!
Squinting at the photo, that familiar face comes into view. “Dad?”
“Mom …” Damien picks up the polaroid before he shoves it in my face so I can get a better view. “The fuck do you think this means?”
With it right in my face, I can see everything. My dad in that green sweater, Rosaline in an airy-looking floral dress. They’re laughing again and it makes me clench my fists thinking about my mom seeing them like this.
Then the background makes me shiver. “Holy shit, Damien,” I mutter, tilting my head and looking beyond our parents.
It looks like they’re standing in the kitchen, my dad pointing to a cassette player on the island. The same island Damien and I fucked on way too many times.
“Mister Damien?”
“Fuck!” Damien jumps along with me, my head whipping to the door.
Isobel’s in the doorway, her eyes glancing between Damien, me and the photo.
“I am sorry,” she says, her speech slowing as her gaze settles on the polaroid. “Policemen are waiting for you downstairs.”
Fuck. Police?!
Damien’s gaze narrows, holding the photo closer to Isobel’s eyes. “Do you know something about this photo, Isobel?”
She focuses on it before she says, “Yes, I just … have not seen that tape machine in a long time.”
“You know this?”
She nods, “Yes. Your mother she—” Stopping herself, she glances at Damien.
“It’s okay,” he reassures. “What do you know?”
“I know it is in the place you hate. Do you need it?”
“Isobel, are the cops here?” I ask, the first thing she said still ringing in my head, my heart like a drum.
“Hold them off,” Damien takes my hand, pulling me around Isobel, grabbing the bags on the floor. “Hold them off as long as you can.”
Before she can answer, he’s pulling me down the hall. I’m looking back, afraid that whoever is here will catch us.
“There’s a cottage out back,” Damien whispers as we make our way down the back staircase and into the garden. “That’s where it is.”
“We’re staying here?”
“Don’t you want to know why our parents were hanging out? Possibly dicking each other down?”
“Well, my mom didn’t have a dick as far as I know, so.” There’s a dirt path beyond the tennis court and it’s beyond me that I’ve been here for months and haven’t wandered this far. “What if the cops come back here?”
He doesn’t give me an answer as we keep going until we get to a small white cottage, windows all along one side. “Where are we? Damien, we need to—Woah.”
Letting go of my hand, he closes the door behind us, dragging a broken wooden chair under the door while my eyes wander around. The smell of earth fills my nose, twigs and dead plants all around us. A few glimpses of green peek out here and there but this greenhouse looks more like a cemetery.
“So this is where you kill me.” Turning towards Damien he’s in front of an old broken down shelf before he pulls the thing out that makes my heart jump.
“Holy fuck.” I point to the cassette player as if he doesn’t already know, my heart thumping against my chest. “That’s it!”
“And there’s a tape inside.”
Leaves and twigs crunch under my boots as I make my way over, a brick wall with an outlet behind him. “What’re you waiting for? Plug it in!” I’ve forgotten about the crime, or should I say crimes on our hands. Forgotten that there’s police on the property ready to take us away at any moment.
What the fuck was my dad doing?
“Edwin Huang.”
My heart skips a beat when that low, rough voice comes through the speaker.
“Dad” I mutter, his voice booming through the room, my body freezing in response.
“No fucking way,” Damien says, approaching the small cassette player like it has all the answers.
Dad’s voice rings loud again. “Can you tell me what you know about Edwin Huang’s campaign?”
“It’s not a campaign.” Another voice is next. This one is airy and honeyed. High-pitched.
“Fuck.” Damien looks like someone punched him in his gut. “Mom?”
Staring at each other over the table, I’m happy he’s here, holding my gaze like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded. Dad’s voice is nostalgic and I’m transported to our living room while he’s talking business, conducting an interview right on our sofa.
Shit. Is this an interview?
“It’s a front. Edwin is a businessman first and foremost. Not a politician unless you consider the way that all politicians are businessmen.”
His mom does have spunk.
“What’re you saying, Rosaline?” That’s Dad.
“I’m saying to look into who the Huangs do business with. If the connected businesses all have a bump in income while Edwin is running, that wouldn’t surprise me.”
“So you have reason to believe the Huangs are pumping money into personal business developments.”
“Yes.”
“Is King Financial one of these companies?
“Yes.”
“Your husband’s company.”
“Ye
s.”
“Wouldn’t these allegations go against your husband? CEO and founder of King Financial?” Dad’s speaking like Mom, her lawyer talk rubbing off.
“Yes.” There’s a deep breath and I’m not sure if it comes from my dad or Damien’s mom until she says, “I’m through being a pawn to Sebastien King.”
Clap! Clap! Clap!
My dad laughs and it brings a tear to my eye. “That’s good for today. Let’s talk again next week.” The tape cuts and the glob in my throat is back again.
He wasn’t cheating. He was working on a story.
With Rosaline, fucking, King.
Damien reaches for the shelf, pulling out a marker and a browned piece of paper.
“What’re you doing?” I ask.
“Something tells me these cops have bigger fish to fry.” When he moves his hand, “Listen to Me” sits on top.
“We’re leaving it?”
“The Carsons can deal with this one.” Reaching over to the shelf, there’s another box in his hand. Smaller. Square. “There’s one last thing before we get out of here.”
When he tilts the box forward, my hands fall to the table, gripping it. “Is that—?”
While it looks like a normal weathered watch box, the picture on the front matches the one on my wrist almost too well.
Damien’s body shakes and when I look up at his face, he’s fucking smiling. “Shit …” Now he’s laughing as I snatch the box from his hand. It’s empty inside but either this watch was popular back in the day or …
“Is this my Dad’s?”
“It was my dad’s,” he corrects and yet, he’s still laughing.
“Damien King, there are cops minutes from breaking into here and we just found out our parents were working together like fucking bosses on some shady Eden shit,” I gasp, taking a breath. “And you’re laughing?”
“Wait,” he walks over to me, taking my hands, the box between us. “I gave my dad this watch for his, I dunno, forty-eighth? Bought it with my Little Savers account.”
“Little Savers account?” I repeat, still way too stunned.
“I was always upset that I never saw him wear it but I guess my mom found another purpose.”
“A gift to my dad?”
He shrugs. “I guess for helping her get her story out. Guess she was over being a King and knowing how my dad was, I don’t blame her.”