by Diana Gardin
“You look absolutely stunning,” he said.
She wore a red dress that hugged her curves before flowing out in billowing chiffon all the way to her feet, which were encased in Cinderella-esque bejeweled heels. Her hair was gathered into an elegant ponytail that hung all the way down her back, and her makeup was understated and glamorous.
She didn’t feel gorgeous. She felt cheap. And later, she’d feel used. Too used to ever be worthy of any man’s love again.
“Thanks,” she replied, chugging her new glass of whiskey. Nathan watched her swallow it, nodding his head in approval.
She suddenly knew she would never be able to wait until she got upstairs. Leaning in close, she rose onto her tiptoes and whispered into his ear. “Tell me what you want me to do for you tonight. What’d Frank tell you the overnight package included?”
She listened carefully, nodding her head sporadically as he whispered his dirty plans to her. When he was finished, she smiled.
“Thanks for sharing that with me, Nathan. I’ve got to, um, go get some air. See you in a minute.”
Before waiting for his reply, she whirled and rushed for the exit. The ballroom was located on the eighth floor of the grand old hotel, and she rode the elevator to the lobby and rushed through the revolving door. She stood on the sidewalk, gulping hot, stifling air and thanking God she was no longer inside with Nathan.
For a while, she just watched people passing on the street. Women her age strolled by in groups of giggling friends, carefree. Couples sauntered by hand in hand, not conscious that the girl they were passing was about to make a choice that would change her life forever. She was utterly alone.
Except for Violet, who waited for her at home.
When Violet crossed her mind, she cringed at the memory of getting ready for the night.
“You promised,” Violet said accusingly, her voice heavy with anguish. “You’ll never be able to forgive yourself for this, Hope. Don’t do it.”
“Vi,” Hope had answered, her tone even. “I’m just going to work for Silk, like any other night.”
“I’m not an idiot, Hope! It’s not any other night. I overheard Frank on the phone. Overnight package? You sold your soul so you could save me. I hate this!”
She grabbed Violet to her chest in a fierce hug. “I love you, Vi. I would do anything for you. And you’re still so young. You don’t know what staying with Frank and Wendy will do to you in the long run. Getting you out is my only priority. So I will do whatever it takes. And I could never regret that. You hear me?”
Violet remained still in her arms, and they hadn’t spoken another word to each other before Hope left with Nathan.
She hoped that one day Violet would understand. Maybe next school year, when she could sleep in her own bed at night and bring friends home from school. Maybe when she didn’t fear what state they’d find their mother in at any given time or what awful thing she’d say during one of her many insane rages, Violet would forgive her.
Reed pounded the tequila shot back, holding the liquid in his mouth for a moment to savor the smoothness of it, and then gulped it down his throat. He signaled Kelly, the regular bartender at Sunny’s, that he was done.
“Aw, come on, man!” Tate stared at Reed. “One shot? After the shit week you’ve had, you only want one shot of Cuervo?”
Reed nodded. “After the shit week I’ve had, any more than one and I’ll end up dead in a gutter somewhere, or locked up.”
Aston narrowed her eyes. “Don’t say shit like that, Reed. It’s not funny.”
“I wasn’t making a joke.”
Ashley, from her spot under Finn’s arm, looked pensively at Reed. “She didn’t even say why?”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Reed announced.
God, if they kept up the interrogation, he wouldn’t be able to turn down another shot, and another, until he passed out right here on the wooden-planked floor of the bar. Or fell over the side and into the dark water outside of it. He didn’t need to drown his sorrow in tequila, as much as he wanted to. He needed to drown it in lyrics to a song. But he’d been doing that steadily for the past four days, and Tate had finally dragged him out to hang with the crew for a night.
“It’ll get your mind off of things,” he’d said.
It was a big, fat lie, because all that the women in his life seemed to want to do was analyze Hope’s behavior. He was over it. He couldn’t wonder about it anymore. About her. It hurt like hell when her face blazed across his memory, and it nearly made him suicidal when he remembered what it felt like to touch her. To worship her body. To love her.
So he didn’t. Instead, he wrote about it.
“So,” asked Tamara casually, leaning forward to place her elbows on the table. She rested her chin on her delicate hands. “Hope’s best friend? The Tomorrow guy?”
At that, Reed chuckled. “His name is Morrow.”
“She didn’t leave you so she could go and be with him, did she?” asked Tamara. The question raked thorns across Reed’s ego.
“Hell, no.” Reed’s eyes flared at the thought.
Tamara nodded. “Just checking.”
Aston grinned. “Why were you checking? You noticed he was hot?”
“Hey!” protested Sam from beside her. “Watch it, Princess. I’m right here.”
“Yes, you are,” she soothed, stroking his chin with a red-nailed finger. But she sent a wink to Tamara.
“Oh, there’s definitely something about him,” Ashley piped up. “Maybe it’s that beautiful complexion, or that crazy-curly hair that hangs into his eyes. Or it could be all the rock-hard muscles that show through those button-up shirts he wears.”
Tamara sighed. “I swear to God, I glimpsed a tattoo on his chest when one of his buttons popped open the other night.”
Reed had had enough. Coming out tonight was a mistake, and he was just about to open his mouth to say so when his phone vibrated in his pocket.
He pulled it out and looked at the screen, frowning. He didn’t recognize the number that scrolled across the face.
“Hello?”
“Reed?”
The sharp, frantic voice at the other end of the line was familiar, but he was unable to place exactly who it belonged to.
“Yeah?” he said into the phone.
“This is Violet. Hope’s sister?”
Violet? What the hell is she doing calling me? Judging from the sound of her voice, she was worked up.
Hope.
Reed stood, plugging his other ear in order to reduce the background noise of the bar. “What’s wrong, Violet?”
Even before she answered, his heart rate had kicked up to the point it usually only reached after he’d swum at least a mile.
She was choking back tears now; he could hear it through the phone. He was headed for the door of the bar before his movement registered with him, throwing a wave back toward his friends.
“Violet, it’s okay, sweetheart. I need to know what’s wrong, though, so I can help you. Okay? Please. Tell me what happened.”
His calm request seemed to be what Violet needed to get herself together.
“It’s Hope,” she said as Reed climbed into the Silverado and cranked the engine. Violet’s voice shook. “She’s in trouble, Reed. I didn’t know who else to call.”
Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to get to her, to find out where she was so he could get there and save Hope from whatever trouble Violet might be referring to. But he had to calm down in order to get the information he needed.
“Okay, Vi, I hear you, sweetheart. Tell me where Hope is. I’m already on the way. I just need an address.”
With a shaky voice, Violet recited the name of a hotel in downtown Charleston. Reed put her on hold while he plugged it into his GPS, and then raised the phone back to his ear.
“Violet? Are you okay? Do you need me to come and get you?”
She sniffled. “No, I’m fine. Just please help my sister before it’s
too late. Please.”
Her voice had trailed off into a whisper he could barely hear, and his heart splintered at the idea that she was hurting this way, and that Hope being in trouble was what had caused it.
He assured Violet that he’d get there, and then hung up his phone. His foot pressed down hard on the gas pedal. He didn’t think the Silverado had ever pushed a hundred miles an hour. He was about to test it out for the first time.
Twenty-Four
It didn’t matter which air she took in, it was all stifling. Outside, inside, it all clogged her lungs rather than invigorated them. She turned to go back inside, and nearly ran smack into Nathan’s chest.
He caught her, wrapping tuxedo-covered arms around her waist, and didn’t let go. She resigned herself to stay in his embrace, as much as her body was screaming at her to jerk away.
“There you are.” He stared down at her, his sandy brown hair slicked back from his face. “The benefit is almost over. Which means it’s almost time for us to go upstairs.”
She nodded dully.
“But first,” he said as he turned their bodies to begin walking back into the lobby. “I need to have a quick word with your boss.”
“What?” she asked, dazed. “Frank’s here?”
Frank had been known to show up at Silk’s clients’ events, just to check up on his girls and make sure they were doing everything they could to keep the client happy. She should have known he’d make it a point to be here, at this date.
“He’s right inside.” Nathan’s voice was as smooth as velvet.
They turned into the hallway that led toward the elevators, and his hands slid below her waist to cup her backside as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. Hope nearly went into convulsions, and she literally had to fight her muscles in order to keep her arms down by their side when all she really wanted to do was break her knuckles punching Nathan in the face.
“Get your motherfucking hands off of her.”
Reed’s voice came from behind them, back toward the mouth of the hallway entrance, and Hope whirled around to face him. A mixture of shock, relief, and dread showed on her body all at once. She sagged into the wall beside her.
“Reed?”
He strode forward, cradling her face in his hands. “Baby, what are you doing here? Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
She glanced from Reed over to Nathan’s outraged face. “Reed—”
The darkness in the dim hallway crept a little closer as Frank’s huge form blocked out the light from the end. Hope jumped a little at his appearance and sucked in a breath at the sight of him. She closed her eyes, blocking out the impending scenario she had so often played out in her nightmares.
Reed cocked his head to the side, absorbing the change in her face and her demeanor. He turned to face Frank, instinctively holding his arm out in front of Hope in a protective gesture.
“Who the hell are you?” Frank boomed, his signature calm demeanor missing from his voice.
“I’m Reed Hopewell.” Reed’s voice was lethal. “Who are you?”
One corner of Frank’s wide mouth tilted upward, and he flicked an imaginary speck of dust off of his tailored suit. “I’m her boss.” He gestured mildly toward Hope, as if she were of no more consequence than a pesky fly.
“Her boss.” Reed expelled the words from his mouth slowly. Then, clarity dawning on his face, he turned to Hope.
“This is your stepfather?”
“Oh, she didn’t tell you, lover boy?” Frank tossed. “She works for me. For my escort service. She’s one of my girls.”
Reed clenched his jaw. “Hope?”
She looked distractedly between Frank and Reed, torn. With everything inside of her, she wanted to grab Reed, tow him outside to his truck, and ride away with him. She wanted to explain everything once they were far, far away from Frank and Nathan. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was that she hadn’t told him sooner what her life was really like, and the reasons why she was employed in such a manner.
But there was a problem with actually going through with any of that. A beautiful, blond, precious problem. A living, breathing, loving issue that Hope would literally die to protect.
And her name was Violet.
She squared her shoulders and looked Reed straight in the eye. “He’s telling you the truth, Reed. I’m out with Nathan tonight because it’s my job. I get paid a lot of money to date rich men. It’s a part of a club my stepfather, Frank, here”—she narrowed in on Frank’s face with the most scathing expression she could muster—“set up a year ago called Silk. I cannot leave this date, and I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Hope thought she’d memorized each and every precious expression that would ever cross Reed Hopewell’s beautiful face.
She’d thought wrong.
The realization dawned on him with a sunrise of agony so fierce Hope expected to look down at his chest and see blood pooling in his shirt. But no bodily damage could have made his face look like that; and directly after the sunrise came the darkening. A storm of regret, rage, and—so much worse—disgust clouded his features.
“You’re a call girl,” he whispered. Nearly inaudible, his voice snaked up and around her already clenched heart and squeezed the absolute life out of it.
And then, she did grab his arm, pulling him down the hallway and past a very smug Frank. It was nearly automatic. She couldn’t let Reed walk away like this. She owed him so much more than that.
I owe him everything.
“Where are you going?” Frank’s cool demeanor was gone again. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him depart from it so many times in one sitting. “You’re on a date, Hope!”
“Nathan can wait!” She towed Reed toward a door at the back of the hallway, leading to an alleyway in the back. And then they were outside, in a place exactly like the one where they’d first met. They’d come full circle, and the nausea that rose in Hope’s stomach at the thought of it nearly keeled her over onto her knees on the filthy concrete.
“Reed,” she said urgently. “I am not a call girl. I swear to you, I don’t sleep with any of them. No matter how much Frank and my mother want me to.”
He stared at her. “You get paid? To date these men? And you’ve been doing it the whole time…oh my God, Hope!”
He ended his sentence with a choking sound, and then he rubbed his stomach like it hurt him. A sob ripped from her as she watched him, and she reached out to take his hand.
He stumbled away from her, shoving her hand to the side and backing up. He held his hands out in front of him, as if to ward her off from attempting to touch him again. He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and thrust it in Hope’s direction.
“Do you see this, Hope?” he said. She was so confused by the strange, new tone in his voice that it took her a minute to realize he was holding out his phone.
“Yes, Reed,” Hope said softly. “Why are you showing me your phone?”
“Because your sister called me tonight. Violet’s the one that sent me here. She was completely torn up. And it’s because of you. You’re hurting her. So if you’re not going to think about me right now, at least think about her.”
He spat out the last words, and they hit Hope hard, like a sharp slap in the face.
Violet never trusted anyone. She only trusted Hope, as a rule. So the fact that she was worried enough about her big sister to call Reed, a man she only met a handful of times…it resonated with Hope. With the exception of herself, no one had ever been able to break down Violet’s perfectly built walls of mistrust.
No one but Reed.
Her knees wobbled slightly, but to their credit, they continued to hold her up.
“Reed,” she pleaded. “Reed, she…she shouldn’t have done that. I’m fine.”
He stared at a spot just over her head, and she longed for those intense eyes to land on her.
“Yeah,” he said, a sarcastic bite in his words. “You seem fine. You’re out with a guy who looks like he
eats women like you for lunch. And this is a hotel. You aren’t gonna sleep with him? Look me in the eye and tell me that again.”
Instead of honoring his request, she closed her eyes.
“You should have known that I wouldn’t be okay with this when I found out. And that I eventually would find out. And that you could have trusted me enough to tell me at the beginning, and then let me help you out of this shit.”
And then his eyes did meet hers, and she regretted what she’d wished for. Because they were void of any kind of emotion. Reed had been brimming with what he was feeling. And now there was just…nothing.
Her heart was crushed to dust. Now she knew that even if she did get Violet away from her mother, her life would be nothing without Reed there to live it with her. How could she be everything to Violet when she was full of nothing on the inside? She impatiently brushed at the tears beginning to burn her eyes. Now wasn’t the time to cry. It was the time to fight.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Reed held up a hand.
“I…yeah, I probably don’t need to hear any more. And I probably don’t need to see you again.”
“Reed!” Her hands curled into fists, because he needed to know about Violet. He needed to know why she did any of this. She could see that, although he had every right to be angry, he was so far off the mark about why she continued to work for Frank. He thought it was about the money. It wasn’t.
“It’s done. I can’t…I’m done.” He backed away a few more steps. His eyes locked on hers, and she sent every single form of voodoo psychic intuition from her heart that she could find and aimed it for him. It must not have worked, because he eventually turned and walked away from her.
Somehow, somewhere deep inside her, Hope knew it was the last time she’d see Reed again.
And she turned and retched right there in the alley where she’d met and lost the only man she’d ever be able to love.
“You need to eat something, man,” Tate insisted.
His tone was slightly disgusted that Reed would allow himself to become so twisted up over a woman. They were normally brothers in arms. No attachments, no worries. Reed had gone and changed the game plan, and Tate didn’t seem thrilled about the results.
