Reveal

by Bromberg, K.

  But something happened while I waited for him in the hallway.

  His words from the gala hit my ears. The between-the-lines things I felt he was really saying to me that no one else would have caught ran loops in my mind.

  And so when he stepped off the elevator and I saw him there—broad shoulders, weary and surprised eyes, jaw clenched—the reason I had gone there changed without me ever knowing it.

  I wanted to tell him I appreciated his speech at the gala.

  Maybe I even wanted to feel him one last time.

  But whatever my intention was, it sure as hell wasn’t to be leaving after sleeping with him.

  It sure as shit wasn’t to leave with my heart in my throat, my head more than a mess, and my soul terrified at how much the man can make me feel in all aspects.

  But that’s what I did.

  That’s where I’m at.

  And still, nothing makes sense. Not our reaction to the sex. Not our need to have time to mull it over. Not my fear about what this means for me and my future.

  The sigh I’m about to emit stutters on my lips when the Uber pulls down my street and I see the black limousine parked at the end of my driveway. I hate that I hesitate getting out of the car or that I rationalize its presence.

  “Everything okay, ma’am?” my Uber driver asks when I just sit there for a moment.

  “Yes. Fine.” I smile at him in the rearview mirror before getting out of the car.

  I try not to look at the limo as I skirt around it and up my walk, because everything about it scares me. And when its door opens, I know why.

  “Vaughn.”

  His voice.

  That voice.

  Chills blanket my skin about as quickly as the rage that flows through my veins. He sought me out. He actually got my address and sought me out.

  When I turn to face the senator, I startle when I see the man dressed all in black, earpiece in, leaning against the front fender.

  He brought his security detail with him? Now my guard is up even further.

  The fine line separating Vee and Vaughn is now blurred.

  My feet falter. My heart races. I glance around but know that at this time of night no one is likely to be near if I need help.

  “I’ve been looking into you.” His deep baritone rumbles through the darkened night.

  “Please leave.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Yes, it is.” I grip my keys in my hand and wonder how fast I can slip each one between my fingers to use as a weapon to fend him off if need be.

  “I believe you have something that is mine, Vaughn.” His smile is akin to a great white shark’s—deceptive in every way.

  “And I asked you to leave.” I glance over at the security detail, wondering what it is he knows here and hating that yet another person is aware of my real identity.

  “The pictures, please.”

  “Now why would I do that?”

  Carter’s chuckle is obnoxious and arrogant, and it stops abruptly. “Because they are my business.”

  “Just like you being here and me asking you to leave is my business.”

  He takes a step toward me, and I hide the hitch in my breath. “We both know I like to play dirty . . . maybe it’s best not to test just how low I’ll go to get what I need . . . that is, unless you like it when I go down low.” He makes no attempt to hide his blatant stare at the V of my thighs as his tongue licks out to wet his bottom lip before he looks back up.

  My skin crawls, and my thoughts veer to Ryker and his explanation about what happened in the pool house—how adamant Carter was about having something on me.

  “I don’t think you’re appreciating how much restraint I’m exercising right now,” he murmurs.

  “Touch me and I’ll call the cops.” I arch a brow, my words defiant, while my insides are shaking.

  “It’s a pretty precarious position you’re in, Vaughn. Waiting to adopt. In debt up to your ears. Using illegal means to try to pay it off. Nothing with you is what it seems.” He leans in and despite my threat twirls a finger around a lock of my hair. His way to show me he’s not scared by my warning. When he pulls forcefully on the strands, I have to bite back a yelp. “Can you imagine what would and could happen to you if all of that got out?”

  I grit my teeth and steel myself when he leans in, so I can feel his breath feather over my cheek. He stares at me, and I fix my gaze on the tree over his shoulder.

  “That would be a shame, wouldn’t it? All this work for nothing? All this risk and fear for naught? I’d think long and hard about not doing as I say, or else poor little Lucy might just become a permanent ward of the state.”

  His words hit me so deep down, I can all but feel it in my bones. But I straighten my shoulders and clear my throat.

  “Do you think threatening me is going to prevent me from releasing what I have on you in kind?”

  “The pictures?” He laughs. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “You wish I only had the pictures,” I counter, hating that he’s unfazed by my threat.

  He stares at me, debating whether or not I’m bluffing. “You don’t have shit on me.”

  “I’ll take my chances, then. It’s a hard fall when you’re as high as you are.” I return the same smug smile he’s giving me.

  “You’re way out of your league. You might want to be careful.”

  “It’s not exactly smart to threaten me.” My words hold conviction while I combat the nerves reverberating through me.

  “Oh, I don’t make threats. That’s the best part about being in such a powerful and high position. Everyone knows I don’t threaten . . . I act. And I have every single resource at my fingertips just waiting for me to use.”

  “I have resources too. Like people who must hate you so much that they drop information in my lap.”

  “You’re playing with fire, Vee.” He tugs on the lock of my hair again and makes a show of breathing in my perfume, followed by a guttural groan. “That’s your first mistake.”

  “So then I should release this call log to the public, then?” The question is out, my fear suddenly real enough to mention the one thing I have on him other than the pictures, even though I have zero clue how this list of phone numbers and times is damaging.

  But his stuttered reaction—his narrowed eyes, his body tensing so I can step back from him, his head jerking ever so slightly—tells me he’s worried. His slip might only be for a second before he recovers, but I still see it. I still know that whatever this list of phone numbers and times and dates is means something to him.

  And that in turn makes it more than valuable to me.

  “Go right ahead,” he says with a shrug, but there’s something that darkens in his eyes that completely unnerves me. “I’m a representative of the people. All of my calls are available to the public.”

  “Good to know, but I don’t buy it, Carter.” I shake my head with a slight smile on my lips as I try to read his hardened expression through the shadows.

  “Feel free to make the mistake and fuck with me.”

  We stand a foot apart. The chills that chase over my skin have nothing to do with the cool night air and everything to do with the sudden shift from demanding to downright disconcerting.

  “Vaughn? Everything okay out there?” Joey calls from the front porch into the darkness, and I all but jump out of my shoes.

  “Yes.” I clear my throat as my heart races, and I take a step to the left out from behind the corner of the garage where Carter and I are standing. “I’m fine.”

  Despite the distance, I can see the startle of his head when he notices the silhouette of the limo on the curb. “He’s still here?” he asks, confusing me.

  “Yes,” I answer, not sure what in the hell he’s talking about, but the last thing I need is Joey to see Carter and the questions that would follow. “I’ll be in in a minute.”

  Joey takes a step onto the porch and holds a hand over his brow as if it’ll allow him
to see better in the darkness to where we’re standing. I know he can’t see much, and for that I’m grateful. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  “Yes.” I’m more curt this time, not wanting him to walk any closer. But as much as I want him to shut the door, being alone with Carter unnerves me. Sure, his security detail is here, but I’m more than certain that my best interests aren’t his concern.

  Joey stands there a few more seconds in indecision and then goes back inside. Once the door shuts, Carter steps into me. I try to step back, but in the process of trying to get Joey out of here, I unknowingly positioned myself so that the wall is at my back, and I have nowhere to retreat in order to put space between us.

  “You are a little whore, aren’t you? First Ryker. Now Joey. Who else is there, Vee?” I yelp when he steps again so that our chests brush against each other’s and the stucco of the wall bites against my back. Despite the chill in the air, there is sweat beading on his temple and a wild excitement in his eyes that alarms me almost as much as his hands sliding up my arms.

  “Get your hands off me.”

  “Why? You want the feel of them on your skin to be left a surprise?” His chuckle is ominous at best and predatory at worst. “Don’t worry. I’ll ruin you for every single man you fuck after me.”

  Something has changed in the last few moments from before Joey came outside to after. There has been some kind of shift in Carter. Almost as if he was knocked off stride and has now found his footing.

  To say I’m alarmed by it is the understatement of the year.

  “Get your hands off me,” I grit out again, “or else I’ll scream bloody murder.”

  “Go right ahead,” he whispers harshly, almost as if the notion excites him. “Give me a reason to involve Joey and every other goddamn person in this neighborhood. Mr. Nelson across the street owns three handguns. I’m sure he’ll come running to your defense. Don’t expect Harvey who lives two houses down to help, though. He left about an hour ago. His wife’s out of town. You know what they say about when the cat’s away and all.”

  His words shake me to the core. His facts might be made up—or they very well could be the truth, for all I know—but knowing he’s researched my neighbors enough to know their names is more than unsettling.

  His attempt to show me he’s all-knowing has worked.

  “Come on. Give them a reason to call the cops, and then we can each sign statements about the incident. Tell them what you do for a living and you’re damned. Lie about it in a sworn statement and same goes. So please”—he rolls his shoulders so that our chests brush together again, and his guttural groan is enough to make my stomach churn—“cause a scene so the police come.”

  “What do you want?” I ask when I already know the answer.

  “Is that a trick question, Vaughny?” He reaches up and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear in an action that’s normally intimate but that has the polar opposite effect when done by his hand. “I was coming for the pictures.” He laughs and lifts his eyebrows. “But now? Now after you’ve threatened me? After you’ve told me no? I think you need to make up for insulting me.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “How cute. You actually think you have a say in this.” He leans in so that the heat of his breath hits my ear when he murmurs, “Ryker told me you were all mine, and I’ve never been known not to take what’s mine.”

  I freeze when he runs a finger down my cheek and then squeezes my jaw when he comes to my chin, clearly trying to let me know he is in control. He leans back to meet my eyes as I try to jerk my head from his grip to no avail.

  “Leave me al—”

  “You owe me an apology.” His eyes harden and his grip tightens. “You forget who has the power in this relationship. Who has a nation at his back. Who is more believable. It won’t be right now, Vee, as it seems you’ve already had your fill of men tonight. No. I’ll give you a little more time to get used to the idea. I’ll let you have a little longer to fantasize about all the things I plan on doing to that tight little body of yours.” He emits a groan in the back of his throat that has my stomach churning. “I hear your pussy is worth every goddamn penny.”

  My free hand is out, and the sound of it slapping against his cheek cracks in the silence of the night. He lets go of my jaw, and in the split second before I yank my hand back, the one clear thought that echoes through my mind is how much I hate Ryker right now.

  He did this to me.

  He set Carter up to think I’m his.

  He jeopardized everything I’ve ever worked for.

  But I don’t have more than a few seconds to compute those thoughts, because Carter Preston is glaring at me with murder in his eyes and a hard-on pressing against the zipper of his slacks. His startled look only lasts for seconds before his mask of superiority and arrogant smile slide back over his features.

  He scrubs a hand over his jaw and chuckles. “We both know that’s not how I like it. I’m the one who causes the pain.” The dark undertone to his playful voice is unmistakable. “I suggest you don’t do that again, or you’ll be very sorry.”

  “Then I suggest you move your hands off me, or else my knee is going to find its way ramming into your balls,” I threaten, the space between us allowing me to think clearly and without the haze of fear.

  “Try it and you’ll be very sorry. Anything and everything that’s connected within a hundred-mile radius of you will be destroyed in the process.”

  “You son of a bitch.”

  “Uh-uh-uh, I’d watch what you say to the man who can trump every single one of your cards.” He purses his lips as his stare undresses every inch of me. “It’s such a turn-on knowing you’re going to fight me every goddamn step of the way.” He leans in, and as much as I’m repulsed by the fear I have that he’s going to try to kiss me, I don’t call chicken. I stay perfectly still and don’t back down. He stops, his lips an inch from mine, his breath feathering over them. “I get off on that. I’ll get off on you. I’ll use every inch of you, and then you’ll beg me for more. And depending on if you’re a good girl or not—if you fulfill the needs I’ve already paid for and then some—I’ll decide if I should let good ol’ Priscilla know about who exactly Madam Vee is,” he says, and panic springs to life. If he’s investigated my neighbors, I shouldn’t be surprised that he knows who Lucy’s social worker is . . . but I am.

  “You wouldn’t dare—”

  “Oh, but I would. And while I’m at it, I might even fill her in on what you did to good ol’ Uncle James.”

  If I had any fight left in me, hearing that name knocks the wind out of my sails and fills me with shock and confusion and disbelief.

  “See? I do know everything. I do have eyes everywhere. Give me what I want, Vaughny, or else I’ll find a way to get it myself.”

  He presses a kiss to the corner of my lips that I’m too stunned to reject and turns to walk toward the limo, throwing over his shoulder, “Oh, and if this little conversation gets out to anyone? The same threat holds. Good to see you again. It’ll be even better next time.”

  He climbs into his limo without another look my way. The security guard slides behind the wheel, and the limo pulls away.

  But I’m the one standing in my front yard staring after red taillights in the distance like I just saw a ghost. I’m the one finally feeling an iota of the fear my sister used to endure. Not only fear of the physicality but more so the uncertainty and constant threat, knowing he could come after me at any moment.

  I’m in my late twenties, and I’m petrified. I can’t imagine what living with this fear—day in and day out—would have felt like when I was a teenager.

  When I was Sam’s age.

  I stagger in the door, flushed and shaking and needing a drink, and Joey more than senses that something is wrong.

  “Vaughn?”

  I hold my finger up as I go to the fridge and take out my half-finished bottle of rosé and drink straight from it.

  “Vaughn? You’re kind of
freaking me out,” he says, his voice behind me.

  I gulp in air once I swallow and shake my head, my hands braced on the counter in front of me. “I’m fine. Just fine.” And I’m not sure if I say it more to convince him or myself.

  “You really should report him as a stalker,” Joey says.

  “Who?” I ask, totally distracted as I attempt to calm my nerves.

  “Ryker.” I jolt when he says the name, grateful my back is still to him. “Who else has been waiting out there for hours for you? He even left and came back in a different car. Does he turn into a pumpkin after—”

  “It wasn’t—” him. But I stop myself from saying it. From telling him differently. First, because I don’t want Joey to know anything about the senator being here. Second, Ryker came here? He came to my house looking for me earlier while I was at his house waiting for him?

  “It wasn’t what?” Joey persists as he moves to stand beside me at the counter, turning to rest his hips against it so we’re facing each other. “Ryker? Then who was it?”

  “No. Yes. Just let it go, Joey.” I finally lift my eyes to meet his and force a smile. “Everything is—”

  “Don’t say fine. Creepy is more like it.” Joey chuckles sarcastically, while I just want him to go so I can down the rest of this bottle in peace and then maybe even open another one.

  “We needed to air some differences is all,” I lie.

  “You know if you need to talk about anything . . . I’m here for you.”

  When Joey puts his hand on mine and gives it a reassuring squeeze, it takes everything I have not to jerk it away in a delayed reaction to Carter doing almost the same thing just moments ago.

  “I know.” Please go. “Thank you.” I just want to be alone. “It’s late. I’m sorry I lost track of time. I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”

  “Totally fine. I was just figuring I’d crash on the couch.” He smiles, and there’s kindness in his eyes that makes me feel even worse for lying to him. An awkward silence passes between us where I question whether I should offer said couch to him for the night, but I don’t because I just want to be alone. Joey rocks on his heels when I don’t speak. “So you’re good, then?”