by M James
“Why?” She jerks her arm away, staring at me. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Don’t talk like that!”
“Oh shut up.” She glares at me. “You’re not my mom. I’m old enough to say fuck if I want to and if I want to go and talk to Zach. I will?”
I take a deep, shaky breath, willing my hands to stop trembling, for my rattled brain to find a way to explain this to her that doesn’t give away what a monster Vincent is. It’s not even just to protect her anymore—I’m not sure if she would believe me. He’s charmed her so thoroughly that she might think I’m making it all up, playing the victim, until she finds out for herself too late.
“I don’t know why Zach is calling himself Chase,” I say slowly, trying to keep my voice steady. “I asked him, and he won’t tell me. We’re not as close as we used to be.”
Erin slowly sits down on the edge of the bed again, looking at me suspiciously. “Because of Sonya?”
Just hearing her name makes me want to punch things. “Yeah, that’s part of it, maybe. And we’re just older now. Different. We haven’t talked to each other in a long time. We’re not the same people we used to be.”
Erin frowns. “You’re right. He’s different. He doesn’t even use the same name...but I guess you don’t really go by the name he knows you buy, right Poppy?”
For a second, the glint in her eye and suppressed grin reminds me of another person, not my little sister, but someone older, wiser and condescending. A more passive version of the people I can’t stand up to, but a second later, she’s back to the Erin I’ve grown to know.
“All he’s said is that it’s really important that I don’t call him Zach. That he has to go by Chase. I don’t understand it, but—Erin, Zach has never lied to me. He’s never said or done anything without reason, as long as I knew him. So there’s got to be a reason for this. And I—I trust him.” Even as I say it, I’m not entirely sure how true it is anymore. Once, I trusted Zach more than anything. With my life, even. But now—I don’t know this new Zach. I don’t know Chase. And I’m not sure what’s going on with him.
But I still don’t think he’d ever do anything to hurt me. Or Erin.
“Listen,” I say urgently, moving closer to Erin. “You need to listen because this is really important. Vincent can’t ever know that Zach—Chase—and I have a past. He can’t know about high school, or that I had a crush on him, or that we were friends. He can’t know that I know him at all. I’m serious, Erin. This isn’t a joke or a game. It’s really fucking serious.”
“Don’t curse,” Erin says condescendingly, her lips twitching in a smile. “Right?”
“Alright, fine.” I let out a sharp breath. “Erin, please. Just tell me you understand.”
“Sure.” She narrows her eyes at me again. “But, why is it so important? Why would Vincent care about your old high school friend being? Zach is with Sonya anyway.” Her tone plainly implies that she thinks Sonya is a catch, and why on earth would Zach want anything to do with me if he’s got Sonya?
God, that fucking burns.
I choose my next words very carefully.
“Vincent can be really jealous,” I say slowly. “Some men are, especially men like Vincent, who has a lot of money and influence, have to be careful about who they trust to keep it. So if he knew that an ex of mine was here, even if Zach was just my friend, even if he was just a friend, he’d be suspicious of him. It would cause a lot of tension and problems, between Vincent and I, between Zach and Vincent, between Vincent and Sonya, Zach and Sonya even. Vincent would be upset that I didn’t tell him in the first place. And especially now, when everyone is under so much stress—”
“Alright, alright,” Erin interrupts. “Jeez, I get it. Everyone is super pissy. I thought this was supposed to be a fun vacation.”
Her voice is back to being petulant, and I stare at her. “Erin, Vincent’s dad might die.”
“Yeah, I figured.” She fiddles with a bit of embroidery on the duvet. “And I guess they all think it’s my fault. For letting Matteo in.”
That makes me forget everything for an instant. “No, Erin, it’s not your fault about Ezio. You couldn’t have known anything like that was going to happen.” And I know that’s true. Even if what Erin did was monumentally stupid—and it was—she’d never meant for anyone to get hurt. She’d just thought that Vincent and Sonya were trying to ruin her fun by warning her away from Matteo.
She’d been a dumb teenager, but she hadn’t known what was going to happen. I just hope that Vincent believes that.
“Still, if I hadn’t let him in—”
“You don’t know that,” I tell her firmly. “Matteo was using you as a distraction, but if that hadn’t worked, he would have found some other way. People like that—they always have backup plans..”
Erin looks torn, between accepting that she didn’t really matter that much to Matteo’s plans, but by virtue of that isn’t responsible for the fallout, and insisting that the entire thing could have been foiled by her refusal—which makes her important to him, but also means she has fault for the results.
“I just wanted to have fun,” she says sullenly. “I just wanted to have my own hot fling. Last summer, Miranda went to Greece with one of her rich aunt’s, and she lost her virginity to—”
“Okay.” I cut Erin off, not needing to hear any more about Miranda’s sexual escapades. “That’s Miranda’s parents’ problem to deal with. But that wasn’t smart. She could have gotten an STD, or gotten pregnant, or murdered—Erin, you can’t just go running around with strange men in foreign countries just because they’re hot. That’s something that happens in movies, not real life.”
“You said you weren’t going to lecture!” Erin stands up, glaring at me. “You’re no fun anymore, Rain. You ran off and got your perfect life, and now everyone is just supposed to listen to you—”
“I’m trying to protect you!” I’m standing up now too, both of us facing off across the bed. I don’t want to hear this again, Erin’s complaints about my life, how perfect she thinks it is, and how I abandoned everyone else. I can’t stand it anymore, especially not after what Vincent did to me earlier, not when I just laid there on the bed with my fiancé’s cock choking me against my will, just so that Erin and my family can be safe and taken care of. “You don’t understand anything, Erin. And you’re judging something you know nothing about!”
“Well, why don’t you tell me?”
“You’re too—” I stop before I can say too young, but Erin already knows what I was going to say.
“I’m not too young,” she hisses. “I’m old enough to know what’s going on, old enough to fuck a guy if I want to. All the guys at your party last night were looking at me, not you. They wanted me. And I’m tired of letting you get all the attention and then whine about it.” She turns away from me. “Go away. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
“Erin—”
“Go away!”
“Promise you won’t say anything about Zach.” I can hear the pleading in my voice, and I hate it, but I’m terrified all over again. I don’t want to think about what will happen to Zach if Vincent finds out that he’s lying about his name, that he’s here for some reason no one knows about, and that we both kept it a secret that we knew each other. And if he finds out anything else—
If Vincent knew that Zach was the one who took my virginity, that I loved him, or that I still do, the thought of what he might do to us both makes me want to throw up. It wouldn’t be good, I know that for sure.
“I don’t care about your stupid little love triangle.” Erin still won’t look at me.
“It’s not—”
“Just go away!” she shrieks, and I flinch back.
I don’t know what to do other than leave. If she causes a scene, it’ll be worse for everyone. And of course, just as I walk out into the hall, I see Vincent walking up the stairs, his jaw set in a grim line.
“Poppy.” The way he says my name i
s flat and emotionless, but I’ll take that over the way he said it earlier. I tense, wondering if he heard Erin’s outburst, but instead, he jerks his head in the direction of downstairs. “We’re all meeting downstairs. I was just coming to get you.”
“Do you want me to grab Erin? I can—” I lick my lips nervously, wondering if he knows I was just in there, and if so, if he’ll be mad.
“No,” he says curtly. “Erin can stay in her room. Now, Poppy.”
I hate how he says that, like I’m a dog he can whistle to heel, but I let it go. What other choice do I have? I just follow him downstairs, and when we walk into the living room, I see that everyone is already seated—Gianna, Zach, and Sonya.
“Your father is still in the hospital?” I ask quietly, and Vincent cuts me a withering look.
“If he weren’t, then he’d be sitting here, wouldn’t he?”
I clamp my mouth shut after that, sinking onto an empty spot on the sofa.
“We all just came back from the hospital,” Vincent says, and I realize that this little gathering is largely to catch me up, as much as anything else. “The doctors thankfully believe that my father will live. He’s still in and out of consciousness, but they expect him to regain it soon. Once he does, I’ve made a decision about where we will go from there.”
Gianna looks at her son, frowning, and I realize that this part, at least, is news to everyone. Sonya looks irritated, and Zach’s face is carefully blank.
“I have men looking into Matteo, his connection to what happened last night, and how it came about,” Vincent says evenly. “I also am looking into what, exactly, Erin’s connection to the whole operation was.”
“Vincent!” I gasp before I can stop myself. “She didn’t plan anything! She’s just a girl with a crush—”
He fixes me with a look so withering that I feel the words die on my tongue before I can say anything else.
“Until we know more, though, the estate is not safe,” Vincent says, his words clipped and full of finality, as if he’s made all the decisions already, and he’s just informing us. I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what this is. “Another attack could come at any time, and I won’t have my father brought back here in fragile health or my family and wife-to-be in danger.”
“So we’re going back to New York,” he continues. “All of us.”
Gianna opens her mouth to respond, but Vincent waves a hand at her. “Don’t argue with me, mother. You know I’m right. You could have died last night—any of us could have. The attack was violent and unexpected. The building that I live in is unoccupied except for me, Poppy, and the apartments that security stays in. I’ll fly all of us back on my jet and have apartments set up for each of you.”
“My apartment is fine,” Sonya starts to say, but Vincent shakes his head sharply.
“Until my father is well enough again, I am in charge,” he says, his voice harsh and cutting. “And I say that I want everyone close by until this threat is resolved. Mama, you and my father will have one, and I’ll have it outfitted for his care with the best nurses round the clock to help. Sonya, you’ll have your own as well, and Chase can stay there with you if you choose. There will be extensive security, so you can all be assured you’ll be safe until we can get to the bottom of this.”
What he’s not saying is just as clear—there will be eyes everywhere if anyone here is responsible in any way. He’ll see everything. The thought makes me shudder.
“You can’t be serious about thinking Erin was really involved somehow?” I know I should keep my mouth shut, but I can’t stop myself. My throat feels tight with fear, and I almost feel woozy, like I can’t breathe. I can’t believe how quickly everything has spun out of control.
Vincent ignores me, as if I didn’t even speak. “I’ll let you all know when we’re leaving and if I find out anything else.”
The second he starts to leave the room, I get up to follow him, my heart in my throat. “Vincent, she made a mistake—”
He rounds on me at the foot of the stairs, his eyes dark and flinty with anger. “I don’t give a shit! Her mistake could have gotten us all killed,” he hisses. I swallow hard. “She could go back to Indiana,” I venture. I know I should shut up, but I can’t stop. I don’t want her around any of this. She’s way better off at home, even if it’s by herself.
His hand shoots out, grabbing the front of my shirt, the silk balling up in his fist. “I said, she’s coming to New York,” he growls out through gritted teeth. “Stop fucking arguing with me, Poppy. Or do you need another lesson in what your mouth is for?”
I feel tears burning in my eyes, my heart beating so hard that it hurts. Please, no. Not again. “No,” I whisper, hating myself for being so weak. “I’m sorry. I’ll—I’ll be good.” The last words taste awful on my tongue, but I get them out anyway.
He lets go of my shirt, shoving me back so that I stumble and fall hard onto the bottom of the stairs. “I certainly hope so.” Vincent narrows his eyes at me as if he’s looking at something small and irritating. “Just stay out of the way until it’s time to leave. Get your and Erin’s things packed. Just be fucking useful for a change.”
I grip the edge of the stair, gasping as I try to hold back the tears until he leaves. All I want to do is crumple into a ball here and sob.
He’s not pretending to love me anymore. And I didn’t know just how scary that could be.
4
Rain
Three days later, we’re on the private jet, heading back to New York. It’s more crowded than usual, with everyone on board. Ezio is near the back, room made to accommodate him in his current state—which is conscious and cleared to fly, but feeble and extremely tired. I’m pretty sure that if Vincent didn’t have so much influence, he’d still be in the hospital. He looks a decade older, his skin papery and grey, and I know he shouldn’t have been released.
I just hope he makes it to New York. My heart hurts just looking at him—he’s always been kind to me. No matter what else is going on, I can’t find it in myself to hate him the way I do Vincent and Sonya, and even Gianna sometimes.
Gianna sits across from him, pale and quiet, her crucifix necklace in plain sight and a rosary in her hands. Ordinarily, I’d think she was being dramatic, especially after the way she faked her own illness to get Vincent and Sonya to come home. Still, she seems genuinely afraid for her husband. So much of Vincent’s family is built on lies and deception, but I believe that she loves Ezio. They’ve been married for so long and built so much together; I can only imagine the history there. It makes me sad in a way because even if I really want no part of whatever this family is involved in, there’s a partnership between her and Ezio that I know I’ll never have with Vincent. And even if that’s not truly what I want, it would be better than what I have.
Zach and Sonya sit next to each other on the other side of the aisle from Vincent and me, talking quietly, so low that I can’t hear either of them. That makes me feel even worse because no matter what they’re saying, I hate the sight of Zach whispering to her, inclining his head so she can murmur in his ear. The intimacy of it makes me sick.
Erin is across from me, sullen and pouting and quiet, and she keeps casting small glances in Zach’s direction that make my stomach twist anxiously, hoping that Vincent doesn’t notice.
Part of me is relieved that we’re heading back to a place that’s familiar at least. Even if New York doesn’t feel like home, it’s better than the palatial estate here, where I felt out of place every second of every day. What had seemed like a possible chance for Vincent and me to reconnect in the romance of Italy, the place where he was raised, had turned into even more of a nightmare. I can’t wait to put the estate and all of this in my rear view. But I don’t know if New York will be any better. Vincent’s family will still be surrounding me. There’s still a wedding hanging over my head. Erin is in trouble, and I don’t know how to help her—especially when she doesn’t even seem to want my help.
And the
n, of course—there’s Zach.
I settle in next to Vincent on the plane, wrapping my cashmere cardigan around myself a little more tightly and staying quiet. I know that will please him more than anything, and I get some form of peace. He’s equally silent until the plane is in the air; when it is, he turns to me, his face grim.
My heart starts to pound at the expression on his face, and I want to cry. I’m so exhausted, so tired of this.
“When we get back to New York,” Vincent begins, his voice cold and very quiet so that no one else will hear, “I expect your obedience and your discretion and for you not to question me. You’re not to contact your old friends—Marcus or Mallory is still not appropriate for you to associate with. They never will be. They’re bad influences. In fact, I don’t want you speaking to anyone from your old life except maybe Dena.” He pauses, considering. “At least she understands what’s necessary to get ahead in this world.”
I don’t say anything. I’d expected this, after all. I try not to think about them too often, Mallory especially, who I miss more than anything, and how my life would be different if I had listened to her. But I’ve accepted that it’s something that won’t change.
“Do not tell your mother about what happened with Erin in Italy,” he continues. “I’ll deal with it. Your sister needs discipline and to understand how the world works. Your parents couldn’t even teach you that. You can learn together.”
“In fact,” he continues, “your mother really shouldn’t know anything about the trip to Italy other than the fact that my mother is fine, but my father took ill, and I brought him back to New York. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
Oh, she’ll understand. She’ll love that, how much of a doting son you are. She’s all yours, hook line and sinker, and there’s nothing I can do about it now. I feel sick and helpless.