“Hendrick!” he yelled again, and I unconsciously walked faster. Old habits died hard. He was sitting in the den, in his chair, sipping what was probably forty-year-old scotch for no other reason than he could.
“You hollered?”
He narrowed his eyes at me, and I resisted the urge to needle him more. I needed to get in and out of here, back to Sampson and Otto. And Aviva. The addition of her company was like throwing fireworks into a whorehouse. Just Sampson’s response to her was worth the chewing out that I was about to get any second now.
“The rehab called me.”
Yeah, he refused to call it anything but rehab, like I was a junkie instead of…
“Oh yeah, what did they say?”
“That you bought your way out of therapy and abducted another patient when you left.”
I snorted. “That’s not true. It was her release day and she came willingly. And a lot.” I gave him a smarmy grin, because Dad only knew two things in life. Power and pussy. He never saw the woman who existed above the tits. He wouldn’t understand the thrill I got from the fact that she couldn’t stand me.
He chuckled low, and took a swill of his scotch. “I need you on the campaign trail with me.”
“I can’t. I have college.”
“If you can buy your way out of rehab, you can buy your grades, son.”
I shook my head. “I promised Sampson I’d go to Europe with him, and you know, his company pays a lot in political donations.”
My father ground his back teeth, because he knew I was right and he didn’t want to piss off Sampson. “I’m sure Mr. Rubio can go to Europe without you holding his dick.” I didn’t say anything, just gazed around the room looking bored. “I need you back here before the primary elections, Hendrick.”
I huffed out a sigh. “Can’t you just tell everyone I’m dead and get the sympathy vote?”
The coldness in my father’s eyes should have chilled me to my bones, but he’d been looking at me like that for as long as I could remember. “I could, if you stopped getting drunk and fucking debutantes in the back of Bentleys and letting the paparazzi photograph it for prosperity.” He sucked in a breath. “You will be back here in three weeks for the primaries, or I’ll cut you off.”
A laugh burst from my chest, and I knew it was a bad idea as soon as I did it. But fuck it, I was all in now. “Cut me off from what? The money is mine, remember? We just aren’t telling your constituents that.”
In a love story as old as time, my father came from a good, all-American, blue-blooded family—who were poor as fuck, their money squandered away thanks to bad stock portfolio management and too much pride. It was my mother who had all the money. She came from new money, and my grandfather had been a wily old fuck. I missed him.
Still, he’d left me the money and not my parents, a small fact that pissed Dad off every day. I funded his shit, he left me alone, and together my parents burned through my mother’s very ample trust fund.
“How about I get your psychiatrist to declare you mentally unwell and put you under a conservatorship?”
Ice ran through my veins, but I’d been preparing for that too. Since the first time he’d put me in rehab when I’d been fourteen, I’d been gathering my own case, ensuring that I had my own expert witnesses to confirm I was of sound mind and body. There were medical files, police reports that never went anywhere, recordings of shady shit and double crosses, all stashed in a lockbox beneath Otto’s childhood bed. Even back then, I’d known Otto was the one person I could trust above all else.
Father didn’t know any of that though. If he did, I’d already be dead. Still, the thought that he could take over my life by convincing one of his judge buddies that I was nuts terrified me.
My father stood, walking over to me, a smile on his face. “We both know that I could.” He lifted his glass and smashed it against my temple.
I staggered to the left, reaching out to grab the armchair as stars danced in my vision. Adrenaline burst through my veins as he stepped closer, leaning over me. “Listen to me, you little fuck. You’ll do what you’re told or I will make your life so fucking miserable, you’ll have a reason to hang yourself from a shower curtain rail.”
I could feel the slow trickle of blood down my temple as I cowered. I hated myself. Hated myself for shrinking away, when I knew I could punish him right back. I could smash his head in with the crystal ashtray on the occasional table beside me, just keep beating until his head was mush.
In my head, I did just that.
But my body stayed frozen, my head throbbing from the cut that he’d opened in my scalp, until he strode out of the room like it was nothing. Like he didn’t beat the shit out of me whenever he felt like it, didn’t make my life so damn miserable that I hadn’t considered ending it numerous times. I’d never give the fucker the satisfaction of dying though. None of that changed the fact that I was crushed beneath his five thousand dollar oxfords.
I uncurled myself and stood, resetting my fucking backbone. I needed to get out of here, out of this house, out of this city.
Grabbing my coat from where I’d laid it over the hall table, I slipped on my shoes. I paused at the front door. I didn’t want to ever come back here—not in three weeks and not in three decades. I raced back up the stairs, not even trying to be quiet this time. Tearing open my bedroom door, I walked to the back of the closet again, grabbing a duffle and flipping open the safe. I unloaded everything; I’d store it at Otto’s house. I couldn’t trust it here with them and I never wanted to come back.
In went a photo of me and Otto as kids, and of my grandparents in the kitchen of their home in Martha’s Vineyard. The rest of my money went in there, as well as my grandfather’s 1971 Rolex Daytona and my grandmother’s Cartier engagement and wedding ring set. My mother had been pissed when I’d inherited those rings.
I hitched the bag over my shoulder and took off out of my room like the hounds of Hell were biting at my ass. I strode past my mother coming out of her bedroom—before lunch, shockingly.
“Hendrick? When did you get home?” I didn’t stop, didn’t even slow my step. Just took the stairs two at a time and burst through the front door.
Hailing a cab, I climbed in the back, directing him to the St. Regis. I pulled out my cell and called Otto. He answered on the third ring, probably because I never called. Calling was for doctors’ offices, serial killers and emergencies.
As if to prove my point, Otto’s first words were, “Are you okay?”
Despite the thumping pain in my head, I smiled. “I’m good, man. Can I stash some stuff at your house?”
“Sure. Put whatever you want in my room. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Never better. I’ll see you soon.” I hung up and leaned toward the cab driver's seat. “Actually, take me to Bayridge.”
I spent the thirty minute cab ride scrolling through social media, deleting the DMs from ugly Instagram girls and social media influencers who wanted to use my clout for their own gain. Not going to lie though, I answered a couple of the prettier Instagram models.
When the cab pulled up in front of what had to be the all-American dream house, I smiled. Everything from the manicured topiaries, to the bright lace curtains, to Otto’s cat Steve McQueen sitting in the driveway, made me happy.
Otto’s family had always been comfortably well off. This house had been in their family for generations. Love and laughter seeped into the walls, and everything was bright and well loved. In summary, it was the antithesis of my own family home.
I paid the cabbie and climbed out, walking up the manicured path to the front door that I knew better than my own. Pulling out my keys, I hesitated, before stuffing them back into my pocket and knocking.
Letitia, Otto’s mom, opened the door. “Hendrick! How… What the hell happened to your head?”
Ah shit. The blood from my temple. I swiped at it with my jacket sleeve, and she slapped at my hand.
“Don’t do that! You’ll stain
your jacket and get cloth fibers in the wound. Come in, I’ll clean that up.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me into the house. “Hendrick…”
I knew what she was going to say. She’d been gently saying it to me for years. Since the first time I’d turned up on her doorstep with a fat lip, she’d given me the same advice. Call the police. Talk to someone at school. Move in with them. So many solutions to a problem that had no solution.
“It’s fine, Letitia. Never again.”
She gave me a sad smile. “Come on. Put that in Otto’s room, and I’ll get my llama bandaids to patch up your head.”
Chapter 10
Aviva
Sampson stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, already on the phone. He had ink across his chest, up over his shoulders and down his arms to his elbows. It was like a dark swirling cape across his body.
I tried not to stare, but between the tattoos and the abs… I was only human, okay?
“I don’t care how long it normally takes, I need it tomorrow,” he snapped, walking to his giant closet. I breathed a relieved sigh when he covered up. He was too pretty, like a rough-hewn ancient warrior beneath a rich boy facade.
“We should go check out your bookstore,” Otto said right behind me, making me jump. I whirled around to see him standing there, grinning. “Better to get it done, don’t you think?”
My face flushed hot, and I nodded quickly. “Yes, of course.” I picked up my purse, and bounced toward the door, hoping that Sampson hadn’t caught me perving on him too. I cast a quick look over my shoulder, and crashed straight into his dark, intense gaze. My eyes fell to his full lips, twisted in a self-confident smirk.
Yeah. He knew. Fuck.
I hustled out the door after Otto, pretending it never happened. Being purposefully oblivious was a skill I’d mastered over the years. Otto didn’t speak as we stepped into the elevator, but the silence wasn’t awkward. It was oddly comfortable, considering I didn’t know this guy from Adam. We walked through the beautiful lobby of the St. Regis once again, and I gasped a little more. I couldn’t help it. It was gorgeous.
Out on the street, Otto turned to me, his smile bright. “It’s about a twenty minute walk, or we can catch a cab?” He indicated a cab that was coming down Fifth Avenue.
I shook my head. “Let’s walk. I’ve never been to New York before.”
Giving me a nod, he started off up the street. “Nice. It's a pretty walk along Central Park.” He held out his arm, and I stared at it. He let out a snort of laughter that I could hear even over the traffic. “You’re meant to hold my elbow. It’ll help me keep track of you in the crowd and ensure that I don’t out-pace you. You’re kinda short.”
I frowned at him, but it was hard not to get caught up in his sparkling baby blues. “Jerk.” I slid my hand in the crook of his elbow anyway as we strolled along the sidewalk. We didn’t talk, because we spent most of our time maneuvering between groups of tourists and people in business suits power-walking angrily to wherever the hell they had to be.
Finally, we reached the leafy trees that marked the boundary of Central Park. I could comfortably drop his arm now, but I hesitated. It was nice. He must be a foot taller than me, his body broad and lean, like a swimmer. He didn’t pull his arm away either, so I decided to go on pretending that I forgot I could walk on my own.
“So, how long have you guys all been friends?” I asked, finally breaking the silence. He looked down at me and smiled.
“Too long,” he said with a laugh. “I was a scholarship kid at Hendrick’s fancy private school. I mean, I was hardly a rags to riches story—my dad is an architect and my mother is a general practitioner. But I’m not Hendrick and Sampson rich. I’m not a trust fund baby.”
We paused as we crossed the street, Otto’s fingers closing over mine as he made sure I crossed the road safely, and something in my chest thumped painfully. Any little hint of care, and I was like a lovesick cat.
He dropped his hand as we reached the other side, but kept his arm tucked tightly to his body, keeping my fingers trapped in the crook of his elbow.
He cleared his throat. “Anyway, when I arrived, I knew no one, and Hendrick took a shine to me straight away. He said it was because I looked at him and had no idea who the fuck he was. Everyone had been clamoring all over him since orientation day to get in good with Hendrick Kenley, probably because their parents had told them to.” He shook his head. “My parents aren’t like that.”
Well, obviously not. They’d raised Otto, and I might’ve only known him for a short amount of time, but I could tell he was a genuinely nice guy. Or he was a really good liar—you could never tell until it was too late.
“So a long time then. Must be nice.”
He nodded. “It is. Sampson came along later, after his grandparents died. Before that, he’d been over on the West Coast, but once they passed, he had to move here to live with his dad. He hated everyone and everything, which is basically catnip to Hendrick. It was a bit rough at the beginning, but now I’d jump in front of a bullet for either of them, and I know they'd do the same for me.” He smiled softly, the way you do when you’re imagining people you love. “What about you? Siblings? Friends you wanna drag across Europe? I’m pretty sure I could convince Hendrick to let them tag along. If you just bat those pretty eyelashes, he’d even pay for it too.”
I tried to wrack my brain for someone who would drop everything and travel around the world with me the way Otto and Sampson had when Hendrick suggested it. Sure, they had the luxury of money—well, at least two of the three did, though it didn’t seem like Otto was hurting either, judging by some of the labels on his clothes.
But there was no one. And if I was honest with myself, that was my own fault. I’d been steadily extracting myself from people’s lives for a year or more, not answering messages, cancelling plans at the last minute. Everyone had moved off to college, but I just shuffled my way through college on my own. I worked at a cafe, did my classes, and went home to not really sleep. I didn’t want to admit that out loud to Otto though, and seem any more pathetic than I must already be.
So I just shook my head. He shook my hand off his arm, and I frowned. Shit, maybe he thought my loserness was infectious… Then I felt his arm wrap around my shoulders and he dragged me into his body for a quick side hug.
“Doesn’t matter, Viva. We’ll go on this adventure with you. Can’t say it’ll always be pleasant with those two; they can be assholes. But you won’t be alone.”
As my gut clenched and my chest felt too full, I just nodded. Fucking Otto—I knew he was the dangerous one.
He dropped his arm and stopped in front of a hotdog cart. “I’m starving. Want one?”
A hotdog from a cart outside Central Park was basically bucket list stuff. “Yes, please. I’ll have whatever you have on it.” Gotta trust the New Yorker on this one.
Otto ordered for us, while I looked through the entrance of the Park. It was a gorgeous paradise in the middle of a concrete jungle, and you definitely appreciated it as an escape from the gray wash of steel and stone. Maybe I could ask the guys to come for a walk through there, or maybe Nemo would be waiting for me at the bookstore to walk me through there himself.
My heart raced at the idea of meeting Nemo. Logically, I knew he wouldn’t be everything I’d built him up to be in my head—hell, he mightn’t even be a he—but what if he was? How would I even know what I was looking for? Should I just go up to random people and say, “Hey, were you in a mental health facility in Florida, by any chance?”
Panic began to wash over me, but I pushed it down. No. I had this under control. I wouldn’t let this blow out into a full anxiety attack.
When Otto turned around to hand me my hotdog, I had my smile firmly back in place. His eyes searched my face, though I might have been imagining that. “Prepare yourself for the best hotdog of your life.”
I took a huge bite and moaned. Holy shit. “Why is this so good?” I said around a mouthful of fo
od. The guy at the hotdog cart chuckled, but he’d already moved on to serving someone else.
Otto shrugged as he walked, eating his own dog. “I think it’s the New York water. It makes bagels and hotdogs better. They never taste quite the same anywhere else. Sampson says it’s because they use the same water for like a week and what you’re tasting is the beginning of salmonella poisoning.”
I laughed, sucking back a stray piece of bun, and Otto thumped me on the back as I coughed. We walked in silence again, eating our food and watching the people go by. I looked over at him, at his sharp jaw and soft eyes. “Don’t you have school or something? Do you have time to be chasing after Hendrick and me as we go on this wild goose chase? Won’t your parents be mad?”
Otto grinned. “That’s a lot of questions. I do most of my classes online. I can do that from anywhere in the world. My parents think of Hendrick and Sampson like sons, and they understand Hendrick is… Hendrick. He’s a complicated guy.”
I snorted. “That's a nice way of saying he’s an asshole.”
Otto shrugged. “Can’t change the man, and besides, he’s different if you know him.” He left it at that, putting a hand on my lower back and turning me to face a beautiful stone building, coated in curling ivy. “We’re here.”
Oh shit. My heart started racing again, and I felt clammy. Otto reached down and grabbed my hand, helping me across the road and inadvertently anchoring me to sanity. Bet he’d once been a boy scout.
He frowned at the building. “I’m going in with you. I won’t encroach, but if this guy is some kind of fucking weirdo, I want to be close by.”
I shrugged, because I didn’t have that much of a death wish. A little extra support would be good.
This was it. Nemo might be in here. I didn’t know if I was happy or sad about the idea, but that was nothing new either. We stepped into the store, and a girl stocking books smiled at us in that pleasant, customer service expression.
“Excuse me. Do you have a section with Jules Verne?”
Inside the Maelstrom Page 6
