by L V Chase
I finally turn to look at Cin, still keeping one eye on Brady.
"Cin," I hiss.
She’s wearing nothing but a few belts that don’t even cover anything. I can barely hold myself together. I’m close to doing something I’ll regret, but the sight of Cin like this kills me.
I nod towards a blanket on another chair, unwilling to step away and give Brady an opening. “Use that,” I say, trying to find any semblance of sanity left within me.
She finally lets go of my arm and wraps herself with the blanket. I fish out my phone and keys and shove them into her slack hands.
"Take them," I say. "And get the fuck out of here."
"No!" Cin tries to give my phone and keys back to me, but I firmly push her away. She stumbles backwards one step.
I catch Cin's eyes, and the look of determination on her face despite everything that must have happened so far is like a slap to my face. Shit, if she’s still willing to fight to make this happen, then there’s no excuse for me to take the easy way out.
I nod slightly, then glance at her hands for a long second. It's all I can spare. She's a smart girl. She'll figure it out. I hope.
With that, I climb over the sofa. Brady dashes away, throwing a useless pillow at me as he retreats to the wooden staircase that leads to the second floor. I pause at the bottom.
"Come on, Brady," I growl. "You fucking pussy."
"Grayson," Brady snivels from the top of the staircase. "Listen to your girl. Don't be stupid."
When I take a step up the stairs, Brady yelps.
"Please!" Brady yells desperately. "Stop it! Grayson!"
"You were going to kill her, weren't you?" I take another step up the staircase. "Just like you killed Diana."
"What?" Brady makes a wry face. "I killed Diana because she saw me fucking around with the other girls."
"Other girls?" I prod.
"The parolees," Brady replies. "Convicts, filth. No one gives a shit about them. So what if I forced them to fuck around with me. But that Diana bitch was off her rocker."
"You thought she might tell someone what she saw."
"She had to go."
“So you killed her.”
Brady snorts. “Yeah, and who gives a fuck? What’s wrong with you Voss? These bitches are nothing to men like us.”
I lower the knife in my hand. I haven't dared to look back at Cin again until now for fear of making Brady wary. When I do, I see that she's holding my phone in her hand as she watches intently. Please, oh fucking please...
"You get that?" I whisper.
Cin's smile is pure relief and pure bliss. A gigantic weight falls off my shoulder in that instant.
"All of it," she croaks weakly.
"What?" Brady shouts. He takes a step down the stair case, but I show him the knife again, and he hesitates.
We've got Brady's confession, but, fuck, what did it cost?
"Are you hurt?" I ask Cin, my fist tightening around the knife once more.
Cin holds her hand up. "I'll be fine. Can we go now?" She eyes the knife meaningfully. "Please? Just get me out of here."
A minute later, I'm driving Cin away from the hellhole, with a screaming Brady quickly turning into a distant memory.
31
Cin
The tables at Tuscany Ivy are painted with a mountain-scape, each table representing a different mountain range in Italy. Grayson and I sit at the base of the Apennine Mountains. A family of goats is painted under my glass of water while Grayson’s water covers a mountaineer.
I let out a slow breath. “It doesn’t feel real. First day of Christmas break. We made it through the battleground of tests and the essays.”
“And the therapy?” Grayson asks.
I give him a pointed look. “I’m still going,” I grumble.
“And you enjoy it.”
“It’s fine,” I say, trying to keep a stiff upper lip, but I actually quite like Dr. Lochley. It must be similar to what having a good mother is like—I rant to her about all of the things that bother me, and she either supports me or points out when I’m being pedantic.
The waitress approaches us. “Good evening. May I start the two of you with a drink?”
“I’ve heard you guys offer a special root beer float,” he says. He turns to me. “Do you want to try that?”
I nod quickly. Grayson has been significantly more careful around me since Brady. He asks my permission for everything. The most physical he’s gotten with me is holding my hand or touching my arm. It’s kind, but it makes me feel more fragile than I want to be.
And if I’m honest with myself, I prefer the old Grayson, who pulled me into the deepest depths, knowing I could handle it.
“You know I’m not delicate,” I say.
He glances at me. “I know.”
“I know you’re being careful around me because you think it’s what I need,” I say. “But I need you. I need you to be who you are.”
He tilts his head, his hair swaying with his movement. He’s missed a haircut at some point because it’s longer than usual. Shadows grow under his eyes. Trying to carry some of my weight has taken its toll on him.
“You think I’m pretending to be someone I’m not?” he asks. It’s almost a rhetorical question, but a hint of curiosity underlines it.
I grab his hand and place it on my thigh. His hand flexes over it, partially on my skin and partially on the hem of my dress. Anxiety buzzes in my veins, but it’s pushed back as I look at Grayson.
“I’m just saying,” I say, shrugging. “You could take what’s yours like you always have.”
We both look up as the hostess returns to our table with Jay and Ally McCulloch behind her. Ally quickly embraces Grayson and me. Jay gives us both a quick smile and shakes Grayson’s hand. They sit down across from us. Grayson’s other hand remains on my leg, his thumb rubbing small circles on my thigh.
“This place is so beautiful,” Ally gushes. “This is where you guys had the Christmas dance, right?”
“In the hotel’s ballroom,” Grayson says.
“It’s amazing,” she says. “When we had dances, we just always did it at the school. I always tell Jay he’s taking it all for granted.”
Jay shrugs. “I’m just not that into the extracurriculars.”
He nervously looks at Grayson and me. “I, uh, I got you two something. An early Christmas gift.”
He pulls his bag’s strap off his shoulder. He keeps it close to his chest as he unzips it. He pulls out a rolled-up sheet of paper. He hesitantly holds it out between Grayson and me before swaying it toward me. I take it slowly and unroll it. It’s a drawing of Grayson and me standing under the willow tree on campus. He must have seen us about a week ago.
We’d debated back then whether or not his father had plotted for Aurora to date Eric to torture Trisha. I thought they were similar enough to get along naturally, but Grayson had his doubts. We agreed not to look too deeply into it.
Grayson’s father had welcomed him back with open arms since the media had portrayed him as a hero. We’re keeping the peace. Considering how everything unfolded after Grayson and I left the beach house, it seemed like a tactical error to go after Lawrence and his ‘matchmaking’ scheme.
It’s a loaded drawing, but Grayson’s arm is wrapped around my waist, and he’s looking down at me with an adoration that’s evident, even in black and white.
I tilt it, letting Grayson see it.
“Thank you, Jay,” Grayson says.
“Thank you,” I echo.
“Cin,” Jay says. “I know you said you forgave me and—"
“I do forgive you,” I say.
He forces a smile. “I know I don’t deserve it. We should have competed on equal ground, and I stole that from you.”
I lean across Grayson to put the drawing beside him. “It all worked out fine.”
“Yes,” Ally gushes, setting her phone down in between all of us. It shows a recording symbol blinking on it. “Let’s start my interview on tha
t because it’s such an engaging ending. So, allegedly, Invonire wanted you to stop associating with the Voss family. Then—"
“Let’s not put that in the article,” I say. “I don’t want to give my employers a bad name.”
Ally winces. “Ah, well, okay. But it feels serendipitous. Grayson came out as a hero for saving you from Brady and revealing the depths of his depravity. And Invonire not only hired you, they also approve of Grayson now and are bragging about the connection. Grayson’s father even made a big show of donating a significant amount of money to the company. Too much for them to refuse.”
“Yeah.” I rest my head on my fist. “It’s quite sensational. Which is why you’re here.”
She laughs. “I like to think we’re friends, too, who benefit from each other.”
The waitress returns with the root beer floats. A mountainous shape of whipped cream floats above it. Ally’s eyes widen at the sight. As she and Jay both order their own root beer floats, Grayson slides closer to me. He kisses my cheek as his hand moves higher up my thigh. The kiss is his way of asking if I’m uncomfortable with the situation. The hand is the only thing keeping me grounded and high at the same time.
The waitress walks away. Grayson keeps his hand on my thigh, but he sits up, his breath no longer tickling my cheek.
“You’ve been a great friend, Ally,” I say, my voice coming out squeakier than I expect. “And you’ve been more beneficial to me than I’ve been to you. You were the only media company that wasn’t hesitating over the Brady story. And you haven’t let it die like the other companies have.”
“We’re also grateful you went after Damian, too,” Grayson says. “Everybody else treated Damian like he was an idiot that got tricked by Brady.”
Ally embraces Jay. “Damian deserves worse punishment for causing the fight that nearly killed Jay. Of course, Writing on the Wall was also our competition, so it was fun to sink them.”
Grayson’s hand skims under the hem of my dress. He’s watching me, waiting to see if I’ll get anxious. My heart is beating harder, but it’s not from stress. His hand slips further under, fiddling with my underwear.
“Cin,” Jay says. “Do you think Brady really killed himself?”
“What?” I chirp.
“Brady,” he repeats. This time, the name runs through me, sharp and unrelenting.
“Off the record?” I ask.
He and Ally nod.
“It’s possible,” I say. “But I think it’s more likely that someone higher up killed him.”
Ally leans forward. The tables are far enough away that nobody could hear us without deliberately eavesdropping, but she knows how dangerous the situation could be.
“Why do you think that?” she whispers.
I scoot to the edge of the booth, leaning forward too. The movement caused my dress to slide higher up. Grayson grabs my thigh again, whispering something that sounds a lot like mercy.
“Lawrence was happy to let me go to Brady,” I whisper to Ally. “And this was after I told him I was going to find out if he murdered Diana. He wanted the murder pinned solely on the Brady. If Lawrence was innocent, he would have wanted to avoid one of his associates going down for murder. But he didn’t—he wanted him gone. And, maybe, after I proved that Brady was guilty, Lawrence wanted to make sure he was gone completely. He was no longer useful.”
I sit back as the waitress returns. She gives Ally and Jay their root beer floats and takes our orders. As soon as she’s gone, Ally leans forward again.
“Can we talk about Damian?” she asks. “Your former best friend turned enemy?”
“It depends on what you want to know.”
“Well, his reputation is ruined—rightfully,” she says. “There are a handful of theories going around that he was more involved with Brady and his sex ring. From the revenge porn he’d given Brady, it makes it seem like he stalked women and handed them over to him. Maybe to help his mother who’s in prison. Last news we got about him is that he flew down to Mexico. Do you think he’ll stay there?”
I shrug. “No. He’s not the type to cower for long, and I’ve learned he’s exceptionally good at keeping grudges. He might come back, wanting revenge, but Grayson and I are ready. He can’t pretend to be someone he’s not anymore.”
“You two are certainly formidable.”
Grayson winks at me. It likely has nothing to do with Ally’s words and more to do with the fact that his thumb is circling above my clit. I’ve brought a monster back to life.
“I’ve also had readers ask about your mother. She—"
“—Is still in prison,” I say firmly, turning back to her. “I can’t tell you how she’s doing. I’ve blocked the number of the prison. She can’t call me.”
“Of course, of course,” Ally says.
As the waitress returns with a basket of bread, Ally grabs her phone, ending the recording. Grayson kisses my temple. It’s a sweet, small gesture, but I feel tension leave from deep inside me. He turns his head, his mouth close to my ear.
“You doing good?” he murmurs.
“I’m good,” I say.
When he kisses me, it takes more than my breath. It takes all of the trauma and misery. It’s exactly like Ally said—serendipitous.
Grayson and I stop at our hotel door. He unlocks the door, and we step in. As he closes the hotel door, I survey the room where we’d slept together after the holiday dance. There’s the aurora borealis again.
“Ally shouldn’t have pushed so hard,” Grayson says, loosening his tie. He drapes it over the armchair in the corner of the room.
“She was doing her job,” I say, unhooking my earrings. I move beside him to set them down on the table against the wall. “We knew what we were jumping into. Even your father thought it was a good idea.”
Grayson moves away from me, turning on the lamp near the bed. “He thinks it’s a good idea because he knows how the media works. If that piece of shit and Damian are repeatedly depicted as lone wolves without a connection to a larger, complex system, it’s more likely that everyone will believe the story. People are even advocating for my father now, saying Damian fabricated those allegations in order to convince everyone that his crimes were someone else’s. He needs this narrative to have roots. He doesn’t care if it’s detrimental to you.”
“Ally is our friend, Grayson,” I say. “She knew not to ask any details about what happened, which is more than most journalists. You don’t need to fight for me, especially when it comes to her.”
“She’s getting famous over this. I’ve rubbed shoulders with enough famous people to see what it does to them. There’s no loyalty. There are only stepping stones.”
“Grayson?”
“Mm?”
I turn my back to him. “Stop worrying and unzip my dress.”
He steps up to me. His knuckles bump against my back as he pulls the zipper down. The dress collapses onto the carpet. I step out of it. Standing in my strapless bra and my underwear, I expect that nervous flickering of tension. The chill of only wearing underclothes brings back those memories of my time at that piece of shit’s house stuck in lingerie. It’s a quick plunge into Hell until I get more clothes on.
But with Grayson near me, the anxiety ebbs to the side. The riptide of emotion is the desire to be closer—to feel all those good things that make the terrible things worth it.
Grayson drapes the hotel’s robe over me.
“Thanks,” I say, touching the soft fabric. I slowly pull it down. “But I don’t need it.”
Grayson sits down beside me. “I don’t think you’re delicate in that way.”
“Oh?” I ask. “Could have fooled me.”
He brushes my hair away from my shoulder. He presses a kiss onto it, spreading warmth down my spine. “I just want to make share I’m not hurting you,” he says.
“Grayson, do you think I’m stupid?” I ask.
He leans back, blinking. “What? No.”
“Do you think I’m capable of
making my own decisions?” I ask.
“You’re not only capable, you’re unrelenting.”
I grab him, yanking him down onto the bed. I straddle him, staring down at him. “Then let me make those decisions.”
As I fiddle with his pants button and zipper, his irises turn into stormy waters. I should swim away, but his lust pulls me under, swelling with my lust.
His hands grip my hips as I undo his zipper, pulling his pants down. He kisses me. As his mouth collides against mine, he rolls my body underneath his. Looking up at him with the stark white ceiling above him, it’s should be a moment of wonder and appreciation, but my attention is balanced between his arousal pressing against my leg and his hand cupping my ribs with his thumb stroking the curve of my breast.
I shimmy out of my underwear. He gives me a mischievous smile as my body sways under him, my smooth legs sliding against his toned, bristly legs. His erection teases my entrance. He holds a little tighter as I manage to get my underwear to my toes and flick them off.
We kiss. I taste the sweetness of whipped cream and root beer. He unclips my bra and slips out from between us. He dives back into kissing me, his hands sinking into my hair.
As I unbutton his shirt, his hands move down the curves of my body. I finish with the last button. He bends down to kiss over my scars on my abdomen before taking the shirt off. As he lays over me again, I slide my hands up his chest, over his shoulders, and lock my hands behind his neck. I pull myself up, kissing him softly, then harder.
He slides down my body, kissing between my breasts. He slides down a little further. He hooks my legs over his shoulder and presses forward. The top of my thighs press against my breasts as I’m folded in half. The muscles in my legs feel strained, but it barely registers in my head when his cock is dragging over my entrance.
“Still good?” he asks.
I meet his eyes, seeing the challenge in them. “A little bored,” I tease.
He adjusts himself, gripping his cock, and starts pushing inside me. I grab onto his arms, a searing sensation rippling inside me from his girth.
When he’s buried inside me, it’s everything I’ve been waiting for. My body adjusts to him, the searing growing into a deeper, addictive heat. Grayson slowly moves inside me, his head bowing down, and his hand trailing down my thigh.