His head snaps back to me, hands up. “I was a perfect gentleman. I didn’t do anything. We just slept. But Rachel must have come in at some point and taken those horrible pictures. And gods, if she drugged you to make you so out of it just so she could get the shots…”
I shake my head. “None of what you’re saying makes any sense. Why would Rachel do any of that? She’s my best friend.”
Adam cocks his head to the side. “Is she? I’ve gotten to know her a little in the past few weeks while you were out of town, to help me with planning and coordinating meetings with Belladonna.” Adam reaches out and puts a hand on my thigh. It feels wrong and I pull away. It could just be because anyone besides Logan touching me feels wrong. Adam lets me pull away without comment, then continues on about Rachel.
“To me, it’s felt like she’s jealous of you. She complained about how you’re always getting all the attention, even when you weren’t there. She said your friendship was always about you and never about her. I don’t know, I can only guess. But it was definitely her who sold the pictures to the Inquirer. I had my people look into it. Maybe it was just for the money. She sold them for half a million dollars.”
All the air heaves out of my lungs at his words. Half a million dollars? Holy shit. That’s enough money to tempt anybody.
But still, Rachel? I’ve known her for years. I thought we were…friends.
Though maybe that was all in my head. Maybe in reality I was just her boss who she put up with because, well, I was paying her salary. And when a better opportunity came along…
I stand up and turn away from Adam. “I need to go.”
It’s time for that long, hot bath I never got. I need some time to clear my head and try to untangle the truth from fiction. If that’s even possible at this point.
Twenty-Nine
22 Years Ago
Logan
“Yeah, you better run! Run home to mommy!”
I flee up the steps of my trailer home and make it inside right as a rock hits the door behind me. Bastards!
I slam the door shut and put my back against it, breathing hard. They’ll leave me alone now that I’m home, but it’s really only putting it off until tomorrow.
Caleb, Pete, and Pete’s brother Paul are these giant assholes from school who live in the same trailer park but have somehow decided they’re better than me. Really there’s just more of them and Pete got held back a year so they’re all giant fucks even though we’re all just twelve.
I thunk my head back against the flimsy wooden barrier. But at least for tonight, I’m safe.
I have to blink to see around the double-wide, Mom keeps it so dark in here. I can immediately tell she hasn’t been out to look for a job like she promised.
She’s stuck in the same place on the couch where I left her this morning when I took off for school, nestled with about a thousand blankets over her, zoned out to what’s on TV.
“Have you eaten?” I start to ask when I notice a new addition to the discarded packages of chips and TV dinners.
“Mom,” I say slowly. “Why are all your pills out on the table like that?” There are dozens of bottles all grouped together, beside a tall glass of water.
It’s like for the first time since I banged into house she even realizes I’m home. “Oh, Logan. I didn’t hear you come in.”
It’s then that I really take in my mom. She used to be really pretty. I’ve seen pictures. But now she just looks…old and tired. Her eyes are sunken and barely open. Her hair is kind of papery and fried from being bleached too many times.
She was doing okay last year when she had this boyfriend, Rog, but he was a loser like every other guy she chooses and after they broke up, she’s just never really recovered.
When my dad left when I was little, she tried to kill herself. She wears bracelets on her wrists to cover the marks, but I never forget they’re there.
I eye all the little bottles again, wanting to grab them all up and pour them down the kitchen sink.
“Mom,” I insist. “What are you doing?”
Her eyes drift back towards me. “I don’t really understand the point of it all anymore. Why we’re all trying so hard. For what?”
For me! I want to grab her shoulders and scream. For your fucking son!
Why can she find the point in living for all those boyfriends but never for me? I guess I’m not enough. Was never enough.
I clench my jaw and stubbornly move past her to the coffee table and start gathering up all the little pill bottles.
“Wait, what are you doing?” It’s the first time all afternoon I’ve heard any life in her. “Stop that. Logan, I need those.”
I spin on her. “For what? So you can kill yourself and leave me all alone?”
She looks hurt, like I’ve wounded her, but then her eyes drop guiltily. Because we both know I’ve just spoken the truth. “It’s not like that, Logan. It’s not about you. These are grown-up problems. You can’t underst—”
“And if you die and leave me alone? You think that’s not some grown-up shit I’ll have to deal with?”
“Logan,” she gasps. “Language.”
“See?” I take her hands. “I need my mom to get on my case about language. I need you, Mom. I love you. It’s us against the world, right?”
She nods wobbly and squeezes my hands back.
“So you won’t leave me?”
She shakes her head. “I won’t leave you. I promise. Just trust me.”
“I trust you, mama.” And I do, I trust her more than anyone else, she’s all I’ve got in the whole entire world.
She starts pulling the pill bottles out of my hands. “I’m sorry I scared you. Let me just go put these back in the medicine cabinet.”
Reluctantly, I let go, but only after she gave me another long hug, and whispered in my ear, “You’re becoming such a good man, Logan. I’m so proud of you.”
I hugged her back, hard. Maybe we’d make it after all…
Except that the next morning I found her dead in her bathtub, bottles of empty pills strewn on the ground.
Thirty
Present Day
Daphne
When I finally make it back to my apartment yet again, still hauling my stupid suitcases around with me, I’m exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. The world is tilted upside down and all I want is to crash for about a hundred years.
Except that there’s Logan, pacing back and forth in front of my building like a stalking predator. His hair is wild and he’s not even wearing his mask. People are crossing to the other side of the street just to stay away from him.
But all I can think is Beautiful man. Beautiful beast.
I needed him and here he is.
I wave at him as soon as I get out of my taxi. “Logan, help me with my stuff.”
His face darkens as soon as he sees me. But I hold up a hand. “Don’t even start with me. You don’t know the day I’ve had. At least come into my place so we can talk things out.”
I can’t imagine a shouting match on a street corner in front of my townhouse.
Please just let him be reasonable and hear me out for once, I pray as we ascend the steps to my apartment. That’s all I need from him. I’m making so many sacrifices here and I need to see that he can do the same. That he can sacrifice his pride and listen.
He grabs the bags from me roughly and follows, a hulking, furious black cloud huffing behind me as we go up the stairs. He’s silent as I pull out my keys and push open the door to my empty apartment.
If he’s surprised by it’s emptied out state, he doesn’t say a word. Then again, not saying anything is becoming a theme with him. Though, maybe that’s a good thing. If I can say my piece, and if he’ll actually listen—
But as the door slams shut behind him, he barks, “On your knees. Beg for my forgiveness.”
I immediately start shaking my head. “Logan, I didn’t do what they said. Those pictures aren’t—”
“On your knees!�
� he roars. “Your Master has given you an order!”
Which just pisses me off. I love what he does to my body. I love the way he commands my pleasure and all that I’ve discovered in that space. But that’s not what this is. He’s pissed. He thinks I betrayed him. Again. And he won’t fucking listen.
I peel off my shirt. When he sees the bra I’m wearing—the same one from the pictures—his eyes go as dark as the clouds in the blackest storm.
“Did you enjoy being his whore?”
I fly at him but he catches my wrist before I can slap him. “I hate you,” I hiss in his face. “Nobody hurts me the way you do.”
“And you fucking love it,” he growls, face still furious as he drags me towards him, slapping my ass hard as soon as he can get his hands on me.
I’m instantly wet. He’s right. I’m addicted to him.
He grabs my face and kisses me hard. It’s a dominating, devouring kiss. Staking his claim as he slides a huge hand into my panties and pinches my clit within an inch of its life.
I squeal and twist beneath him, but when he releases his hold, the flood of pleasure that hits me like a wave has me buckling under him so that it’s only him who’s holding me up.
Not for long, though, because soon he’s dragging me to the ground, bunching his sweater underneath my head, and shoving my jeans all the way off.
“Please,” I can’t help begging. “I need you inside me.” Maybe if we can connect in this way, then we can start—
“I thought you hated me,” he sneers.
I twist underneath him to face him even as I kick off my pants the rest of the way. I search his eyes, so tumultuous with emotion, and I grab the sides of his face, the ruined and the whole, with my hands.
“Logan, we could have everything, if you would just trust me. Listen to me about what happened. And trust me when I say I didn’t betray you. That I would never betray you. Trust me.”
But it’s like my plea is a bucket of ice water on his head. He wrenches away from me. “I can’t. You’re a liar. You’re all liars.”
I scramble up to a sitting position. All? “Who?”
He looks briefly my way before shaking his head. “Women.”
What the hell? But then he’s grabbing his shirt off the ground and shrugging it on over his head. “I should never have come here. This was a mistake.”
My heart sinks with every step he takes away. He doesn’t even look back once as he leaves, the door closing behind him with a resounding thud.
Thirty-One
Present Day
Logan
It was my mom all over again. I slam out of the building and people back away in fear. Fine with me. They don’t want me? I don’t want them either. I hop in my truck and burn rubber as I pull out of the parking lot.
Trust me. Trust me, she said. When the evidence she was lying was sitting right fucking there.
Obviously Mom was going to kill herself that night, no matter what the fuck I said, or what she promised.
And the pictures of Daphne and Archer in the papers—it was the truth in black and white. Words don’t mean shit.
There’s the truth. And the truth is that no one ever picks me. My mom picked being dead over being with me, so big fucking shock that Daph picked Archer with his money and his fucking perfect face and—
I let out a roar in the cab of the truck as I drive back to the castle. I want to destroy something. I want to rip the whole fucking world apart.
I close my eyes as rage burns in my brain, making me feel like I’m going to self-combust.
* * *
Daphne
I sit on the wood floor of my empty townhouse. My nipples ache. I took out the piercings...because why bother? I’m not Logan’s anymore.
I’m not anyone’s.
Sacrifice was supposed to bring reward. Why couldn’t he trust me? I… I love him. Why isn’t that enough? I love him so much, it’s ripping my heart out.
Maybe it was better back when I was asleep. Back when I didn’t know what it felt like to live life in color. When the world was black-and-white and I woke up and went through the motions each day and then went to sleep again and year passed upon year until I eventually moldered away and went back to the earth to become fertilizer for my beloved roses. Circle of fucking life, right? Why did I think I got to be special, but no, I’ve got to be one of the rare few with an epic love of a lifetime. That’s just a fairytale.
My cell phone rings and I answer it on autopilot. I plugged it in as soon as I got here.
“Daphne?” Rachel’s voice is half panic, half hopeful.
I hang up and stare at my phone like it’s something vile. WTF is she thinking, calling me? After what she did?
My phone buzzes. She’s sent me a text.
Rachel: Daphne, I’m sorry. I can explain.
There’s little dots that tell me she’s still typing, but I furiously type faster.
Me: You have a lot of nerve, texting me rn.
The ellipses disappear.
Me: Adam told me what you did.
And now I just feel tired.
Me: Why? What did I do to you? I thought we were friends?
Rachel: …
Me: Don’t bother explaining. I’m blocking this number.
Rachel: Wait! It’s about your dad—
I snatch up the phone and redial her. My face is wet.
“What about my dad?” I ask before she can greet me. I want no niceties from her. I steel myself for more lies.
“Oh, thank gods. Daphne, he’s really, really sick.”
“What?” The last time I talked to him… was a while ago. He sounded weak but I thought everything was fine.
“You have to go. Now. The truth is, he’s in hospice care.”
“Hospice?” I cry, scrambling to my feet. “But that’s… That’s end-of-life care. Are you just trying to fuck with me again? Why are you calling, telling me this and not his nurse?” After all that you’ve done!
“I’m not proud of the way things turned out. Look, I can explain,” her voice drops to a whisper. “Just...not now. There’s no time. Go, Daphne. If you go now, you might make it in time.”
My heart jumps to my throat.
I’m already out the door, flying down the stairs. “Taxi!” I shout. A yellow Chariot wrenches out of traffic to glide to the curb.
“Make it in time for what?” I ask Rachel, but she’s quiet as I tumble into the cab’s backseat and give directions to the driver. When I look down at my phone, she’s hung up, but a new text has come through.
Rachel: In time to say goodbye.
Ten minutes later, I’m in a show down with the stone-faced nurse blocking the entrance to my dad’s room.
“He’s sleeping,” she whispers harshly.
“It’s the middle of the day. How long has he been out?”
The nurse’s gaze flits away. I clench my fist so I don’t grab the front of her shirt and shake her until she tells me what the hell is going on.
Instead, I steel my voice. “How long?”
“This is against protocol,” the nurse says to the wall. She’s scared of something and I don’t understand. “Your father is very ill.”
“How ill?” I force myself to sound calm. “Another stroke?”
The nurse finally meets my gaze a second before dropping hers and nibbling on her lip. “Yes. Followed by acute encephalopathy.”
The scientist part of my brain scrambles to translate. My voice hitches as I ask, “How bad is it?”
“We started hospice procedures two days ago.”
“What?” I whisper-shout. Rachel was right. The realization blasts the hairs on my arm, makes them rise. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?”
“We had our orders.”
“What orders? From who?” my voice jumps an octave and I take a breath trying to calm myself down. “I hired you. I’m his daughter.”
The nurse gives a little whimper, and I realize I’ve backed her into the wall.
“Your fiancé,” she says desperately. “He told us you had a breakdown and were hospitalized—”
“What?” I screech. No wonder she’s looking at me like I’m an escapee from the asylum.
“We were supposed to allow you to talk to your dad but all serious communication should go to Mr. Archer.”
Adam fucking Archer. Again. Something’s rotten in New Olympus and all roads lead to my bleached blond tabloid co-star. But I don’t have time to figure this out. Hospice care means I don’t have much time left with my dad.
“I’m going in. You can’t stop me from seeing my father.” Not if he’s on his deathbed. Holy shit, how is this happening? This can’t be happening.
“I have to phone this in,” the nurse mumbles.
I grab her arm and she flinches. She thinks I’m crazy. With a deep breath, I relax my grip. “Please. I’m not asking you to break protocol, just...wait as long as you can. This is my last chance…” To say goodbye.
The nurse presses her lips together, summons her humanity, and nods. I duck past her and tiptoe into my dad’s room.
Inside it’s dark and it smells like sickness. I’ve been around hospitals enough to recognize that sour scent not even antiseptic can cut. My dad is a shrunken shell of a man. Small and frail sleeping in his bed. I creep to his side and take a seat. The only sound is the soft wheeze of my dad’s breathing.
It wasn’t supposed to end like this. He was supposed to be getting better. Adam kept this a secret—but why?
You always sensed he was untrustworthy. I thought my instincts were broken. Turns out they were right all along.
If Rachel hadn’t called me, I would’ve missed this. Which means...I don’t know what it means.
“I don’t know what’s real anymore,” I whisper. My dad’s eyes remain closed, his mouth slightly open. A sound creaks in his throat, but it’s probably involuntary. He’s probably just asleep. His index finger twitches on the coverlet.
Billionaire’s Captive: A Beauty and the Rose Box Set Page 32