The Rebirth of Sin (Wicked Trinity Book 2)

by Courtney Lane

  MY FITFUL SLEEP WAS full of horrific visions. I remembered the worst at Rebirth. I recalled how Gregory tormented me. I remembered Noah’s brutality when I was at Rebirth and when I returned to D.C. Sonja’s death replayed constantly in my nightmares.

  I ached for the time I lost with Sonja. To tell her that I was sorry and how much I valued our friendship and would make up for the time she had thought otherwise. Although I knew what Braedan said was true, I couldn’t fight the heft of self-reproach, placing the blame for the death of others on my shoulders.

  Unable to rest any longer, I picked up my phone and dialed the only person who could remove me from my darkening mood.

  He picked up on the second ring.

  “Hey,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry to bother you if you’re busy, but I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I feel… I just needed someone to talk to.”

  “I’m never too busy for you. I was working…but I had trouble sleeping as well. I’ve grown to need your body next to me in order to sleep soundly.”

  “Ditto.” Fiddling with the edge of my sheet, I exhaled with a tangible longing. “When can it happen on a regular basis?”

  “Soon. I’m tied up with the final renovations of my home and work obligations. Things should slow down in a few days.”

  “I can’t wait to see your home when it’s done. With the way you are about fashion, I’m sure it looks gorgeous.”

  “You will, without a doubt, be my first invited guest.”

  “An overnight guest?”

  “Definitely,” he replied, his words breathy and full of an enticing promise.

  “What you said to me this morning helped, a lot.” Pausing for a moment, I perused my brain for the most delicate way to ask the question burning through my thoughts. “Braedan…did we meet before Rebirth? I can’t get rid of the feeling that we have.”

  He was quiet. Much too quiet.

  “Does this have anything to do with what you wanted to tell me that night?”

  “It does.”

  “I’m going to be at my mother’s campaign event tomorrow to support her. Will you be there? Maybe we can talk about it then?”

  “You have no idea how glad I am that you truly did take my advice not to change your life for Noah.”

  “You didn’t answer my question, Braedan.”

  “Would you like me to be?”

  I shivered, deeply affected by the tone of his voice. Deep, soft, and heady with desire. “Of course I do. You know I want you to be there. Are you going to talk about what you wanted to chat about?”

  Silence.

  “The way you make me feel, you don’t have anything to worry about. Whatever you have to tell me, it’ll be okay.”

  “What exactly is it that I make you feel, Keaton?”

  “Like there isn’t anything I can’t do.” My teeth attacked my bottom lip for a while, fending off a sudden bout of apprehension. I added in a mumble, “My mother thinks you have the face of an angel.”

  “She’s being overly kind.”

  “And your eyes? Will I see them again? Will you tell me why you had surgery?”

  “The surgery was done to remove a ruptured iris implant.” Silence hung thickly for a moment. “Tomorrow.”

  The roar of the crowd inundated my ears with a rumbling sound. The three of us walked hand in hand as we approached the stage. My father and I stood alongside each other as my mother gave us kisses on our cheeks.

  As a family, we shared the same grins—mine was reminiscent of my pageant years and the most plastic of them all. A pang of remorse over having the ability to smile, even falsely, threatened to cripple me. I put on a brave face; the last thing Sonja would’ve ever wanted was for me to fall into a pit of depression so deep, I couldn’t function. Had it not been for Braedan, her wishes might not have manifested.

  My mother approached the podium and waved to her adoring crowd. They were waiting for my mother’s official announcement of her desire to run for the state senate seat.

  AT THE NETWORKING PARTY, I played my part; smiling demurely and disclosing to the crowd that I fully intended to take over my mother’s vacant seat at F.A.C.E. Cosmetics. I made small talk with the people who were her supporters, discussing my mother’s college exploits at Georgetown and law school. How F.A.C.E. was started while she was in law school and became an instant success.

  They were more interested in the nature of my father’s next project. I reminded them that he had plans to executive produce a few movies for his studio, but he’d be primarily focused on helping my mother with her campaign. When the conversation turned to questions about Sonja’s death and probed into how I felt about it, it became nearly impossible to keep up the plastic smile.

  As things began to wind down, I started to exit the house through the back to get fresh air in the snow-covered garden.

  “Keaton!” Nathan’s shout resounded in the crowd. He made a beeline for me while waving a manila file folder in the air. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, but could never get you alone.” He thrust the folder at me. “You have to see this. I was almost going to give up, because I found nothing. I must have a fairy godmother because someone dropped this in my mail slot right before I came here.”

  On top was a sticky note: “What you’ve been searching for. Here’s the truth.”

  I scanned through the file containing a plethora of information on Sander. The reports and newspaper clippings revealed the reason Sander might’ve been in the house: Allegedly, he had his mother killed for the insurance money. He was acquitted on all charges due to lack of evidence.

  “No.” I shook my head with vehemence. “This can’t be true. He’s said his family is full of criminals. He could’ve been framed. Where was his father in all this? Is there any information on him?”

  Nathan’s face blanched. “Look at the last page, Keaton.”

  As I flipped to the last printout, I was faced with a picture. The memories came rushing back to me quickly, bringing about a vision-altering headache. It was a picture of the real Sander.

  Braedan barely resembled the man in the picture save for a few general features.

  “I…I need to catch my breath.”

  “You need to stay away from Braedan,” Nathan warned me, “whoever he really is.”

  Nodding with lazy motions, I handed him the file. “I have to catch my breath,” I repeated and left out of the back of the house.

  Wrapping my wool military peacoat around me, I stared up at the sky. A cloud of smoke plumed from behind the roman columns. A man in the shadows appeared. The dark of night and his position away from the outdoor lighting cast a shadow over his body permitting a view of the silhouette of his face and the outlines of his dark vested three-piece suit. Despite the shroud of mystery, I knew with the way my heart suddenly increased in pace that it was Braedan.

  A dozen thoughts raced through my mind. I wanted to hold on to one of the few persistently good things in my life and pretend I knew nothing—pretend that whomever Braedan really was, he didn’t mean me any harm. There had to be a reasonable explanation for why he would assume the identity of someone he wasn’t. And there had to have been a believable reason for the burn scar on his neck.

  Remembering what had taken up a firm stake in my heart, I pushed it aside for the man I missed when he wasn’t at my side.

  Approaching him from behind slowly, I wrapped my arms around him and rested my cheek against his back. “Why is it you always find the quietist spot in the most crowded places?”

  “Shouldn’t you be inside, supporting your mother?” he asked genially.

  “Can I ask, how are you supporting my mother standing out here, taking a smoke break?”

  He laughed, and it sent shocks up my spine.

  Like the features of his face when he was sleeping, it rang familiar. I wondered if his true identity was that of someone I once knew, and he used Sander’s identity to get closer to me. It was very likely he could’ve be
en a high school boyfriend; I was a serial dater who couldn’t stay with one man for very long. The number of exes was such a high number that essentially, many of their faces were a blur. The demands for increased intimacy outside of what I wanted to provide caused the break-ups. I had plans to keep my virginity in tact until I found my one. Things…didn’t work out as I had planned.

  “I think I’ve supported her quite a bit.”

  “Can I tell you a secret?” I rested my hands on his torso. The vibration of his heart and the lulling sound of his evenly spaced breaths made me close my eyes in comfort.

  “Absolutely, Keaton.” There was an increased amount of gravel to his voice, as though he’d been smoking a little too much, but added an ever-present sensual connotation to his voice.

  “The cake you bought me—the one I think you made—when I went home I set it on my bed and ate the entire thing in one setting.”

  He laughed again.

  “It was kind of out of necessity. My mother won’t stop talking about you, and if she knew you could bake, I’d never hear the end of it.”

  “Was it the only thing you thought about that night?” he asked sheepishly. “The cake?”

  “I think you know what I was thinking about and that’s why you knew…I’d do what I did the first night we spent together.”

  He took a long drag of his cigarette and audibly exhaled. “Your text confirmed what I assumed. What I knew was that I wanted you.”

  “Was it…good for you?” I asked, unsure of why I wasn’t able to ask the proper question, much less think properly to ask a more appropriate question.

  “Keaton,” he said breathlessly, “you always feel incredible.”

  “I have another secret,” I said, holding him tighter and clinging to the fantasy just as fiercely. “I missed you…so much.”

  He took my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing each one of my fingertips.

  “I want to spend the night with you tonight,” I nearly pleaded.

  “I can’t tonight; it’s not due to lack of desire.” Obviously sensing my disappointment, he added, “Another night, I promise.”

  “Do you think it’s possible to fall in love with someone while blinded?”

  “In many religions, people love their figures blindly.”

  “Most of them have idols.”

  “Which is based upon their interpretations and possibly inaccurate. Love is about how you are made to feel and not what your eyes reveal.” He suddenly stopped breathing for a moment. “Is there something you want to admit to me?”

  “If we get a chance to spend another night together, when we wake up together, I’ll tell you.”

  He turned his head to regard me from over his shoulder. The shadows darkened his face as though he had a personal lighting assistant, ensuring only his eyes were unseen.

  “All that you’ve done for me and my mother? I never would’ve told my story or stood up for myself and left Noah for good if it wasn’t for you. Noah…he won’t stop trying to ruin my mother’s dreams or my life, and I feel like I have the strength to face him because I have you.”

  “And you always will.” He released my hand and brought his cigarette up toward his face. A winter chill kicked up, pushing the smoke in my direction. “In a way I’m sure he didn’t mean to, he helped her campaign. He made people remember what was done to you. He made people see him as a monster. Having him and his loyal subjects discredited helped your mother even more. I also think it helped you, too. You’ve been hiding, trying to keep your story a secret. It needed to be told.”

  “I don’t know if it needed to be told,” I countered. “If it helped someone, I’m definitely grateful. But…what do you mean about it helping my mother’s campaign? How so?”

  “She has to appear as though she’s approachable to everyone. She can’t be that way if people don’t see her struggle or see that she never had to struggle. She has to make people think she’s something she’s not.”

  “My mother doesn’t have to act relatable. She naturally is.”

  He moved my hand to hover over his heart. “Is that really your belief? I thought we clarified this: You don’t need to act with me.”

  “I think you’re the only person I don’t put on an act for. Which leads me to a really important question I have to ask you.”

  “I believe I know what that question is.”

  “How?” My grip began to slip.

  He quickly took my hands ensuring my arms remained wrapped around him. “Who do you think provided Nathan with the information?”

  My mind whirled around in a pit of confusion. I immediately felt a twinge in my stomach. “How did you… Why would you… Who are you…?”

  “I’m a person who’s cognizant of how it can be; pretending to be something we’re not. Sometimes we have to. Sometimes we’re told to behave completely different from who we are, because being ourselves won’t succeed in obtaining what we want the most.”

  “If you have to pretend to be something you’re not to get something,” I surmised, my words delayed and soft, “maybe you shouldn’t have it at all.”

  “Or maybe you should never listen to bad advice.” He turned around and for no immediate reason I could find, I couldn’t look at him. His tall frame made it easy to focus on other things.

  I studied the buttons on his dark blue tuxedo shirt with an unwavering intensity while keeping my chin to my chest and his face out of my view. “What do you want from me? Are you in my life hoping to hurt my mother, or me?” My dream once made real had begun to break apart. Tears brimmed in my eyes. My voice trembled and grew hoarse with every word.

  I begged to no one in particular: Please let me have this one thing in my life. Please. “I-I would never hurt or say a bad word against my mother. If you are hoping I would be the weak one to hurt her, you’re wrong. I think she really deserves the senatorial seat. Anything I say to anyone will be something that helps her. I would sacrifice everything to make sure she had her dream.

  “What have I shown you, Keaton?” He looped his arms around me, his breath tingled at the exposed scalp in the off-center parting in my hair. “Everything I’ve done with you and for you has been genuine. I’m not in your life to hurt you. I took Sander’s identity, because I knew you’d never trust me unless you thought I was someone you could relate to. For the deception, I apologize. I wanted to tell you the truth numerous times. You made it so hard for me to admit to the lies. I wanted this. I wanted you for as long as I could hold onto you without the truth sullying what we have.

  “The love you have for your mother and everyone you love—the way you won’t say a negative word to critique the ones you care about? It’s nice. It’s rare. Too many don’t know the meaning of loyalty. Even the people who you’d consider family. But, we all have our roles to play, Keaton. Some of us play it better than others.

  “I’ve been told I’m an incredibly good actor. Actually”—he pinched my chin, creating a space between it and my chest—“for a long time I thought I couldn’t act. It was the only thing I had, the only outlet I had when I was growing up. But if I needed verification, I received it. I played a part and made many people buy it. The character became real. I did it so well I lost myself and embodied the person for a while. A tragedy made him go away, and you made me become myself again.

  “Sometimes the idea of an individual becomes greater than the actual person. One can stare straight into the eyes of the idea and not recognize the person for who they truly are, or what they once stood for—especially when the person embodies everything they’ve ever wanted. The brain is an interesting instrument; it will trick the eye into viewing things as it sees fit, even if it’s a distorted actuality. You’ve been staring into the face of someone you’ve seen dozens of times and didn’t place his true identity.” He brushed his lips against my forehead, whispering, “See the real me, Keaton.”

  He was the brightest spark in my life, and I couldn’t handle it if it was snuffed out soon after man
y tragedies darkened my reality. I was afraid of what his words could’ve meant. Pulling myself out of common sense and the process of deduction to uncover the truth, I fell into denial. Ignorance was a tempting, safe, and comfortable space over a black hole of crushing disappointment. I wanted my fantasy for as long as I could cling to it. It was all I had left.

  Unfettered tears began to stream down my cheeks. Deep down, I didn’t need to open my eyes to know the truth; the man I’d fallen for was not Sander, and his real name wasn’t Braedan.

  When I opened my eyes, a proverbial snow drift enveloped me, burying me alive, and kept me from any movement.

  His hazel eyes glimmered and his sharp cheekbones and broad jaw sharpened under nature’s perfect lighting, casting the dark and the light on visually appealing areas of his face.

  His hair dislodged from its sleek and molded style, falling partly over his flawless face. “I didn’t get a chance to say it previously. Since your vision is finally clear, and you see me for who I really am, I want to say it now. It’s”—he sank his teeth into his bottom lip as they twitched to form a skewed grin—“indescribable what it feels like to see those beautiful eyes again, Keaton.”

  Standing before me was a ghost in an expensive suit and a beautiful face. A ghost with enchanting hazel eyes, hiding the monstrous man beneath it all. His voice didn’t hold any hints of the heavy weightiness and almost cartoonish villainous cadence it once did. It was naturally soft-spoken and almost timid. It was completely devoid of the confidence and arrogance of the man I came to loathe. The emptiness and tragic evil I used to see behind his eyes was no longer there. I could see miles of a history, and it was as much painful as it was alluring.

  He was the same man who made up the source of my nightmares. He had shed his skin and taken on a new character that threw my mind into a confused and befuddled mess. The man who had saved me countless times—who gave me orgasms like I hadn’t ever felt and made me fall for him—was the same one who made sure I endured unforetold horrors at the House of Rebirth.