He storms into the room, brushing past me with his nostrils flaring. He is red in the face like he ran up all thirty-six floors. “Jesus fucking Christ. You are going to be the death of me.” He sighs heavily while examining me from head to toe. Satisfied I’m in one piece, he grips my shoulders. “Where the fuck were you?” he barks.
“Out partying?” I shrug, smiling sheepishly, because I’m not sure how to handle Tony when he’s like this.
“Don’t act cute.” He lowers his hands from my shoulders, dragging his fingers through his short hair. “Don’t you know how worried I was? I’ve been frantic, searching everywhere for you.” He glares at me, and I can tell he’d love to throttle me right now. “You have a lot of explaining to do, Sierra. Your father will not be pleased.”
I almost choke on my tongue. “Please tell me you haven’t spoken to my father,” I splutter, flopping onto the edge of my bed.
He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Not yet, but he’s been blowing up my phone, and I need to return his call.”
I sit up straighter. “You can’t tell him. He’ll just ground me for eternity, and you’ll get fired.” I might be twenty-one, but I’m still living at home, and my father has numerous ways to make me suffer.
“Do you think your father pays me to protect you as some kind of joke?” he shouts.
“No. Of course not.”
“Do you have any idea how much danger you were in last night?” He shakes his head, staring at me with a mix of anger and concern.
Eh, yeah, buddy. I was aware of how close I came to being raped and murdered. I can’t say that though, so I press my lips together, happy to let him vent and hopefully get it all off his chest.
“Do you hate me then?” His brows climb to his hairline. “Is that it? You want to get me fired, or you were hoping to kill me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” It’s not like Tony to be dramatic. “I might hate what you represent, but I don’t hate you personally. Giving you a few sleeping pills is not the same as poisoning you, which is what I’d do if I wanted to kill you.”
“Don’t you dare make light of this. This is no laughing matter,” he snaps, and it’s uncharacteristic because Tony is always calm and he’s always been nice to me. “I didn’t wake until six a.m., Sierra. I was knocked out cold for twelve hours. Anything could have happened to you in that time. I had no choice but to take Pen’s word that you were safe. Knowing you were out there with some guy I hadn’t vetted, without your purse or your cell—” Scrubbing a hand across his stubbly chin, he shakes his head, pinning me with pained eyes as he sighs. “I’ve been worried sick.”
I’m instantly chastised because I see the truth written all over his face. I lean forward on my elbows, looking him straight in the eye. “I’m really sorry, Tony. It was a totally shitty thing to do. This wasn’t anything personal. I swear. I just wanted to let loose and have fun without you watching my every move and reporting it to my father.”
“And did you?” he asks.
I frown. “Did I what?”
“Have fun?” His features soften a little as he looks at me expectantly. Reading between the lines, I can tell he understands why I did what I did, maybe even approves on a subconscious level. Warmth spreads across my chest. I’m glad Tony is my bodyguard. Because he knows me, understands me, and while he still wants to throttle me for putting myself at risk, he gets it.
I smile, nodding. “I did.” Mostly.
He crouches over me, and his brow puckers as he gently brushes his fingers against my neck. His eyes narrow as he zones in on the slight finger-sized bruising around my throat. “Did someone hurt you?” Anger and fear replace the previous emotion in his eyes, and he looks ready to flatten someone.
“No. It’s not what it looks like.” I inwardly cringe. “It was consensual.”
“You’re sure I don’t need to beat someone’s ass?”
I cough out a laugh at the very idea of Tony trying to take on Ben and his gun-toting friends. “I’m sure.”
He stands. “This can’t happen again, Sierra. I’m charged with protecting you for a reason. There are plenty of crazies out there who would love to get at your father through you. If anything had happened to you last night, I would never have been able to live with it. Your safety is more than just a job to me.”
Without hesitation, I jump up, flinging my arms around him. He doesn’t hesitate to return my hug, and we enjoy a rare, brief embrace. “I care about you too. And I am really, genuinely, honestly sorry. I promise I will never do that again.”
“Okay.” Air whooshes out of his mouth, and the last vestiges of his anger disappear.
“So, we’re gonna keep this between us. Yeah?” I offer him my best puppy-dog eyes.
“Yeah.” He sighs, running a hand across the back of his neck. “But don’t make me regret it. If your father finds out what happened, and that I hid it from him, he won’t just can my ass.”
“He won’t find out. I promise.” I know Pen and Esme will carry the secret to their graves. The other girls are never at my house, and Father doesn’t even know their names, so we’re good. I breathe a sigh of relief. At least that’s one problem diverted.
I follow Tony out, joining my two best friends in the living room, watching as he exits the suite to stand guard in the corridor.
“I didn’t know what you wanted, so I ordered a bunch of things,” Pen says, waving at the array of cold and hot foods on the long coffee table.
My stomach rumbles appreciatively, reminding me I haven’t eaten since dinner last night. “What time is it anyway?”
“It’s just after two,” Esme says, pulling me into a hug. Holy shit. I guess I got more sleep than I thought. “Pen woke me at eight to tell me what happened.” She holds me at arm’s length, staring at me with tears in her eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I assure her.
“This is all my fault. I’m so, so sorry. I should never have gone after that man.”
“You shouldn’t have,” I agree, stacking a mountain of fries and a chicken burger on my plate. I add some salad to offset the coronary-inducing feast.
If I wasn’t so pissed at Ben, I would be angry at my friend now. Truth is, Esme’s recklessness almost cost me and Pen our lives. If Ben hadn’t been there, who knows if either of us would be standing here right now.
“Are you sure you aren’t hurt?” she asks, biting down on her lower lip.
“I’m not. At least not physically.” I proceed to fill them in on everything as we eat, and they listen attentively. Esme interrupts, cursing like a sailor when I get to the part where Ben insulted me and then basically kicked me out of his place.
“That fucking bastard,” Esme seethes. “I’ve a good mind to head over to the Venetian and give him a piece of my mind.” And there’s that reckless streak again.
“It’s not worth it, and it’s far too dangerous.” I doubt Ben and his friends carry guns as accessories. “Besides, I never want to lay eyes on him again.”
“That sucks, babe.” Pen pins me with a sympathetic look. “I remember how badly you were crushing on him.”
“He wasn’t worthy of your devotion,” Esme says. “But it’s weird he keeps your picture in his pocket.”
“Do you think he knew we would be there?” Pen asks, looking newly concerned.
“I don’t see how.” I stuff the last couple fries in my mouth. “Esme made the booking in her name, and we only stumbled across Scarface Salerno by accident.”
“Then, shocker, I agree with Esme. It’s weird he’d be so cruel when you clearly meant something to him. He wouldn’t have kept the picture otherwise.”
“And it’s not like you were a shit lay,” Esme supplies, and my mind instantly recoils in horror. “Babe. Stop freaking out.” She squeezes my hand. “No guy fucks a girl all night long unless he’s really into the sex. He came, right?”
I nod. “Multiple times. On me and in me.”
“So, it’s not that.” Esme tap
s a finger on her chin.
“It doesn’t matter anyway.” I set my empty plate down on the table. “I don’t want to think about Ben anymore. As far as I’m concerned, he’s dead to me now.” I uncap a bottle of water, glugging a few mouthfuls. “He wants me to forget last night ever happened, and I’m A-okay with that.”
“That guy he sent here said the same thing,” Pen says, and I almost spit my water all over the floor.
“What guy?”
Pen glances over her shoulder to ensure no one is listening. She lowers her voice. “That dickhead Renzo brought me back here, and he insisted on taking my cell and disconnecting the phone in the suite so I couldn’t call anyone. I was losing it, close to breaking point, when Ben’s friend Leo showed up.” Her cheeks flush, and I arch a brow.
“You didn’t give me any of these deets earlier,” Esme says, wearing a curious expression. “Spill.”
Pen purses her lips, but she can’t contain her grin. “He was hot and ripped and a bit scary but super sexy.”
“Poor Eric.” Esme licks yogurt off the back of her spoon.
Pen elbows her in the ribs. “Poor Eric nothing. I still love my fiancé, but I can acknowledge a hot guy when I see one.”
“What did he want?” I ask, keen to get to the meat of the story.
“He got rid of Renzo. Told me not to worry, that you were safe, with Ben, and he would take care of you. He stayed with me, disappearing for a few minutes when the others arrived back totally smashed.”
“I have the headache to prove it,” Esme says, dumping her empty yogurt carton in the trash.
“I got everyone to bed,” Pen continues, ignoring Esme, “and when I came back out, Leo had made coffee.”
“How cozy.” Esme waggles her brows, and Pen flips her the bird.
“He was pretty vague, yet he still managed to drive his point home. Basically, he said what Ben said but in a nicer way—those men from the basement are dangerous, and we need to keep quiet about last night. It’s why I only told Esme the truth. All the others know is you met a random guy and went back to his hotel.”
“Thanks, Pen. I think we’re all agreed we need to keep it a secret.”
“You’re preaching to the choir,” she says, her face turning pale.
I take her hands in mine. “I know you were petrified last night. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Tears pool in her eyes. “I have never been so scared. I was sure they were going to rape both of us and then slit our throats when they were done.” She looks away as a single tear rolls down her face. “I’m so sorry I left you there, Sierra. I’m a shitty friend.”
“Stop that.” I tip her chin up with one finger. “You’re not and it wasn’t your fault. I made the decision, and you shouldn’t feel guilty about that. If you had fought, they might have shot you.”
“That’s what Leo said,” she whispers. “He said I was bait. That it’s Scarface’s MO. He was always going to use me to force you into staying.”
I hadn’t considered that last night. I was too panicked. But it makes sense. He readily agreed to my plan and let Pen go without argument.
“The most important thing is we are all safe and no one got hurt,” Esme says.
“Except for my bruised pride.” I shrug, trying not to feel dejected.
“Look at it this way,” Esme adds, pulling her knees into her chest on the couch. “You got to screw your crush and he was a fucking beast in bed. He gave you multiple O’s, popped your anal cherry, and you won’t forget your twenty-first birthday in a hurry.”
“For fuck’s sake, Esme. Are you stupid?” Pen snaps, glaring at our bestie. “You need to wake the fuck up and stop talking crap. Stop acting without thinking. This is no joking matter. You weren’t in that basement. Sierra is lucky Ben was there. I shudder to think what state she would be in now if he hadn’t been able to stop it.”
Esme looks instantly chastised, and her voice is quiet when she speaks. “You think I don’t know that, Pen?” Tears swim in her eyes. “If you think I’m not torn up over this, you’re mistaken.”
“It’s okay,” I say, reaching out to both my friends, taking their hands. I know Esme isn’t as carefree and unthinking as she’d have us believe. She struggles to process things, and she uses humor and detachment to avoid facing hard facts. I know she’s remorseful, in her own way, and she’ll try to make it up to me. “We’re not playing the blame game. Yes, there are lessons to be learned from last night, but I’m choosing to focus on the positives and not dwell on the what-ifs. All I ask is you both try to do the same.”
They nod, and I slump against the couch. “One thing’s for sure,” I say, in parting, a wry grin spreading across my mouth. “This is definitely one weekend I’ll never forget.”
10
SIERRA
Life returns to normal in the weeks that follow the Vegas trip, but the events of my birthday weekend are never far from my mind. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about Ben. The first couple of weeks were a bit of a haze, as the full extent of the danger I was in finally registered, and I existed in a state of delayed terror. I vented my emotions in my studio every night, painting until my soul was cleansed and I found my inner Zen again. After I moved past that, my thoughts became preoccupied with Ben.
His cruel dismissal still hurts, but most of my anger has faded. I had a near escape, and he saved me from a fate that would have either killed me or traumatized me for the rest of my life. Relief and gratitude are my overriding emotions now, and I can’t find it in my heart to hate him. Maybe I’m naïve, but I want to remember the good in him, and he showed me that weekend he still has plenty of that.
Christmas is the same old parade of stuffy parties and events with my family, and the strain of keeping up appearances, making small talk with lecherous bores and their Stepford wives, almost kills me. It’s only the few college parties I manage to sneakily attend that keep me sane over the festive period. Pen and Esme notice I’m distracted, but I deflect their concerns, blaming my odd mood on the stress of having to play the role of dutiful, meek Lawson daughter.
Spring semester starts, and I attend classes, throwing myself into my studies while I continue to deny the truth. Until I can’t deny it any longer, and I pull on my big girl panties and buy a pregnancy test.
I slump to the ground on the tiled floor of my personal bathroom, staring in resigned acceptance at the word on the digital stick.
PREGNANT
I’ve been expecting this result, but I’m still floored. Literally. My periods are always erratic, so when I missed one in November, I didn’t dwell on it. However, when my period failed to arrive again in December, I knew. Deep down, I knew. But I couldn’t face it, so I wallowed in la-la land for another month until I woke this morning with sore breasts that are definitely bigger. It is the slap in the face I need to stop burying my head in the sand.
A few silent tears roll down my face, but they’re not unhappy ones. Sliding my hand to my stomach, I rest my palm there, smiling as I think of the little life growing inside me.
I’m scared shitless.
Terrified to the point of puking, but that could be pregnancy hormones.
Yet, I’m not displeased. Unhappiness has not been the emotion driving my refusal to accept reality—that was all fear.
Fear of telling Ben.
Of facing my family’s furious reaction, because this news will not be well-received.
Fear of the unknown—I haven’t a clue how to take care of a baby, and I’m scared I won’t be good enough, especially if I end up doing this alone.
But I’ll learn.
And I’m luckier than most women who find themselves in this position. So, it’s time to wake up and own my situation.
I can do this.
I know I can.
I refuse to cower from the truth anymore. There is a new life counting on me, and I won’t let him or her down. Swiping my tears with the back of my sleeve, I stand tall, radiating determination as I
stare at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes wide and bright, and I look different yet the same. It’s hard to articulate it. Apart from missed periods and feeling more tired than usual, I haven’t suffered any ill effects of being pregnant. Mostly, I feel great. I’m not surprised it agrees with me because I’ve always wanted to be a mother. That has always been a part of my life dream.
Did I plan to be a young single mother? No. And even though I’m scared of what the future might hold, I’m excited too. I don’t know why I denied the truth for so long when a certain sense of contentment has lodged deep in my bones now I have faced up to my new reality.
It was selfish not to have done a test a few weeks ago when I first suspected. There isn’t just me to consider now. I’m nurturing this little life, and I need to take care of him or her. I vow to make a doctor’s appointment ASAP, and I make a mental note to download a couple of pregnancy books on my e-reader. “It’s you and me, kiddo,” I whisper, running a hand across my stomach. “I might not know the first thing about being a mom, but I promise I will learn and I will try.”
Wiping all trace of tears from my face, I swipe my purse, jacket, and car keys, stopping by the sunroom where Mom is reading to let her know I’m heading out. Tony trails me out the front door, and I hand him the keys to my black Lexus SUV, happy to let him drive for a change. He stares at me like I’ve grown an extra head, and I laugh. I get it. I hate having anyone do anything for me, and I usually insist on driving myself everywhere. But I’m still a little dazed, and I need time to try to make sense of my muddled thoughts.
I message Pen from the car, praying she’s at home and that Esme is with Mikel, her latest fuck buddy. I don’t plan on keeping it a secret from her. I just need advice from my straight-shooting levelheaded best friend right now.
Condemned to Love:  Page 8
