by V. F. Mason
“You bet.”
“No way.”
They reply in unison. Josephine can protest all she wants, but Morgan is a sharer, and by the end of the week, she will have told me about their date a hundred times, with new details coming up every single time.
A bubble of laughter slips past my lips, and I dance back to the door and race to the elevator. I press the bottom several times and watch the display, knowing the elevator should be here any minute.
Somehow, time ticks by slowly when you’re on a mission to do something, namely run back to a man, hoping he hasn’t changed his mind, and you didn’t hurt him while still living in the past and letting irrational fears rule you.
“Estella,” Morgan calls, and I look at her as she leans on the doorjamb with Josephine throwing her arm over her shoulders. “Tell him we convinced you to give him a chance. So he’ll remember it while he grades my paper.” She snaps her fingers. “Because some of us need As to keep our scholarship.”
“And some of us just need As,” Josephine adds. “He has to know to whom he owes the good times.”
I press on the button again. “Will do, but I’m not sure it will matter to him.”
Morgan frowns, putting her hands on her hips. “My best friend is sleeping with the professor, and I get no benefits? The hell! How is this fair?” The elevator chooses this moment to announce its arrival, and with a loud ding, the doors slide open. I wave at my friends and then enter and press on the button for the ground floor.
Before the doors close and take me downstairs, Morgan still has time to shout, “Tell him I want my benefits!”
I laugh at her words and then catch my reflection in the mirror. I don’t recognize the woman staring back at me with sparkling eyes and so much… life in her gaze you can almost touch it through the reflection.
My mouth is shaped into a smile, and I trace my fingers over it, thinking how, before college, that rarely happened. And now not a day goes by without me stretching my lips in a grin.
Who willingly says no to such an evolution and the new opportunities?
The elevator dings again, and I fly out, making the people waiting jump back to give me room. I move to the exit as several thoughts swirl in my head.
Although the most important one is finding Ryder right now. Thunder rumbles while the rain continues to pour on the people running around. The wind blowing outside leaves no doubt that autumn is here.
I glance down at my dress and shiver, imagining facing the rain and blistering cold.
Waiting for my driver will take ages for me, and I can’t stand still anymore.
So with a deep breath, I step outside, and then the air sticks in my lungs when I see a man standing several feet away under a black umbrella with a car running behind him, the headlights brightening up the sidewalk.
Ryder.
He wears just his shirt, his suit jacket thrown over his arm while his brown eyes drill their stare into me, and everything female in me urges me to run to him to get warm and feel alive once again, to believe it’s not an illusion but a blissful reality.
He slowly comes to me, his leather shoes splashing water. He puts his jacket over my shoulders, covering me in warmth, and his scent lingers, sending calmness through me.
He wraps his hand around my waist, pressing me to his chest, as my gasp settles between us. I tilt my head, letting him keep us under his umbrella. “You found me,” I whisper, relief slamming into me in waves because he’s here, and he hasn’t given up on me.
“You’re mine. Of course I did.” His thumb slides back and forth on my waist, popping chills on my skin while prickles of desire travel all over me. “Are you finally ready to be captured, my darling?” he asks in a hushed whisper, his face inches away from mine as his lips move above my own, lightly grazing them but not kissing me.
Longing slips into every crack of my soul, and my hands clench his shirt hard, needing him to step closer, because he’s my anchor grounding me in the present.
“Yes.”
A sinister smile curves his mouth, and he licks the seam of my lips, my mouth opening, ready to receive his kiss, when all he does is murmur, “Very well.” Then he steps back to my protested whimper and pulls me along with him toward his car. “Let’s go, then.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, getting inside the vehicle, and he shuts the door without replying. He walks around the car, closes his umbrella, throws it in the backseat, and then joins me inside the car, his hands settling on the leather-covered steering wheel.
“Does it matter?”
The question hangs in the air between us, simple yet having so much meaning in it.
I just agreed to whatever this all-consuming need is.
Does it matter where we are going if we’re together… consequences be damned?
“No.” And somehow that one single word seems as if I sealed my fate forever, and no matter what happens from here on out, I will never be able to go back on it.
He puts his hand on mine, raises it to his mouth, and kisses it gently. My skin burns at the touch, and my heart flips inside my chest at the action. I’m coming dangerously close to falling for this man for real.
Life though is meant to be lived.
So even if heartbreak awaits… I’m willing to risk it.
If I only knew though.
If I only knew….
Chapter Seven
“All secrets come to light sooner or later.
Because some things in life are inevitable.”
Ryder
* * *
Estella
Ryder drives the car up to a tall building in the center of Chicago as an endless string of cars passes us by. Lights flicker, casting a glow on the rain-slicked city streets, as thunder echoes once again in the air.
People walk casually, holding their umbrellas, my eyes not missing their luxurious designer shoes and bags while their coats hide their clothes, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find equally expensive things underneath them.
We’re in one of the richest neighborhoods of Chicago; you just have to say you live here, and everyone can automatically predict your net worth.
My brother owns three penthouses somewhere here, although he rarely stays in them, as there is a high risk of running into someone from “high” society, and he despises them all.
And why wouldn’t he?
They never accepted his scars and quiet nature; instead, each of them created hideous rumors about him. Some even claim he must kidnap women and hide them somewhere, because otherwise they wouldn’t welcome his advances.
My heart pangs painfully at the thought, remembering how he tensed when he overhead someone saying this, and the mug he had in his hand crushed under his anger.
My brother would never, ever hurt or harm an innocent or force himself on anyone.
But judgmental people will never know it, as they care about exciting gossip far more than the truth.
Pressing my palm to my chest, I rub it back and forth while familiar guilt fills my veins, making the despicable voice from the past speak up in my mind.
“See, Estella?” Father prompts, wrapping his hand around Octavius’s throat and squeezing so hard his face turns red. Even though he struggles in Father’s hold, Octavius’s whole focus is on me, as he doesn’t dare make sudden moves while Father still holds a knife between his fingers. “You shouldn’t have gone to that birthday.” He shakes my brother, Father’s fingers flexing on his neck tighter, cutting his oxygen supply. “Now someone has to pay for the disrespect.” He puts the tip of the knife to Octavius’s cheek and presses it until he draws blood. My brother hisses, yet his face stays indifferent, hiding his feelings from the monster.
He stopped crying a long time ago, after he figured out Father loved to see his tears, and that only added to his misery, because Father became even more determined to earn those tears.
“Should I hurt him?”
I shake my head, my back hitting the wall, my whole body trembl
ing as fear sinks its claws into me.
Father laughs, flashing his white teeth as the logs crackle in the fireplace. “I bet it would make you cry.” He slides the knife from side to side and then throws Octavius on the floor, where he coughs violently, gulping for breath.
I rush to him, hugging him close, and his arm presses me toward him as he sits a bit in front, blocking me from my father’s view. “You always cry though, so it’s boring.” Father flips the knife between his fingers and gives me one more of his disgusting grins as his eyes focus on me.
Octavius tenses next to me even more as if already knowing what he will say next. “I would far more enjoy hurting you.” He looks at my brother, and a gasp escapes me.
My father would even hurt me because he knows it would hurt Octavius; sometimes, I think I don’t even exist for him.
I’m just a weapon used against Octavius, time and time again.
A weapon my brother could never protect himself from, as his love for me is far greater than any pain Father dishes out.
He once said he could withstand any physical torture, but he can’t lose me, since I’m the only family he has.
Besides his best friends.
He even made Florian vow to take care of me should anything ever happen to him.
“Come here, Estella.” Father extends his hand to me, and I glance at him in disbelief.
Does he really think I’ll listen to him? I burrow deeper into Octavius, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.
His eyes narrow, and an angry snarl curls his lip when he repeats, “Come here, Estella.”
Since I stay frozen in place, he curses under his breath and then steps toward me, ready to tear me away from Octavius. A scream escapes me when my brother lunges at him and pushes him so hard that my father loses his balance and tumbles to the floor.
The knife falls from his grip. Octavius grabs my shoulder, his fingers digging into my skin and bruising me as he drags me toward the door, opens it wide, and pushes me outside.
“No!” I scream, already knowing what he will do next, but it’s too late.
He shuts it in my face as Antonio runs to me. The lock clicks, and my brother slips the key underneath the door. His order rings in the air. “Don’t enter, Antonio, until I stop screaming.” Our butler grabs the key, squeezing it inside his palm.
My heart stops and then beats wildly, each beat bringing me more pain than the previous one. Fear envelops me whole, painting horrible pictures of the future for my brother.
“Take her away!” he manages to bark before Father’s footsteps are heard through the walls.
He bellows, “You fucking bastard!” And then Octavius’s pain-filled scream reverberates through the space followed by father’s sadistic laughter chilling my spine.
I pound on the door and press on the handle. “We need to help him,” I say to Antonio, who swallows harshly. I continue to bang on the wood as sobs escape me every second. “We need to help him. Father has a knife!”
Several maids gather around, each one with a shocked expression as the fight inside continues. My brother screams his lungs out as the blows echo in the air, signaling my father beating him ruthlessly.
Why is no one doing anything?
I grip Antonio’s sleeve. “Give me the key!” I order, and he closes his eyes when Octavius screams again. This time, his throat is hoarse, and a crashing sound comes from the inside. “Give me the key, Antonio!”
He scoops me in his arms, but I wiggle, my legs punching air, and he takes me upstairs, farther and farther away from my brother while he suffers inside with a monster.
All while my mother watches it from the top of the staircase, drinking scotch and sighing in boredom.
After my father, she is the person I hate the most in this world, because she never does anything to protect my brother.
She’s a weak, spineless woman who doesn’t deserve her children. My greatest wish is for them both to disappear one day and never come back so my brother will never be subjected to any pain and cruelty again.
Antonio stays deaf to all my begging, trapping me inside my room, while guarding the door until I can no longer keep my eyes open.
And then in the morning, Octavius is nowhere to be found as my parents have breakfast in peace, and everyone except our butler acts as if nothing happened.
That’s when I call two powerful men who I promised my brother never to call, under no circumstances, so they wouldn’t know what nightmare truly happened inside the walls of this castle.
Lucian Cortez and Jacob Price.
However, I was too late with the call.
Because my father harmed my brother in such ways I’m not sure he will ever get over it.
That call changed our life forever in a way.
At least for a moment in time.
A butterfly-like touch settles on my cheek, snapping me out of the painful memory, and I look at Ryder, who wipes away the single tear sliding down my chin with his thumb.
He doesn’t utter a single word, but his touch holds so much comfort, serving as a healing balm to the internal wounds still bleeding inside me.
He unfastens my seatbelt and helps me get out of the car, holding an umbrella above us.
A man in a uniform, must be the doorman, runs to us and catches the keys Ryder throws his way. “Mr. MacAlister. Good evening to you, sir.” He nods at me. “Ma’am.”
“Hey, Rick,” he greets him, pulling me to the revolving doors, and we enter the lobby where the mint scent brings my attention to the spotless marble. All around me, silence settles.
My heels click loudly as Ryder rushes me toward the elevators, barely giving me a minute to study my environment.
Various paintings hang on the walls, and several small, round tables with candy dishes on them are scattered around the room. Couches are placed nearby, offering the perfect place to rest while waiting for someone.
In the middle, there is a reception area where two ladies speak with newcomers, polite smiles stretching their mouths, and the whole picture reminds me more of a hotel rather than a building’s entryway.
There is even security surveilling the place.
But then again, for the money they pay to live here, they can order a damn clown to entertain people.
The silver double doors of the elevator slide open, and we walk inside, where I go to the mirrored wall, wincing at my rather crazy expression and wet appearance. The harsh light only emphasizes my freckles.
Rubbing my fingers over them, I sigh in resignation, when Ryder’s deep voice breaks the silence around us, causing goose bumps on my flesh. “You’re beautiful.”
My stomach flutters at the praise. His orbs scorch me with their heat, similar to the ones burning me back in the library when he….
A tremor rushes through me, the hot flush zapping all over my system. My nipples stand against the wet cloth of my dress, and that doesn’t go unnoticed by him.
My God, one night in his company and my body reacts to the slightest thought of experiencing his touch again.
Spinning around and pressing my back to the wall while desperately trying to control my breathing, I watch him tap on the P button, letting me know he owns a penthouse.
Again, not surprised.
Only the best for him, right?
And then I gasp when he steps up to me and puts his hands on the bar behind me, trapping me in his embrace, our faces inches apart as his hot breath fans my lips, making my fingers curl into my dress as I hold myself back from fisting his shirt and pulling him into me.
“You will tell me why you ran away from me tonight,” he orders, his husky timbre caressing my skin as he scrapes his teeth over my chin before biting it, the sting traveling all over me and only enhancing the earlier heat. “And then I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll never do it again.” My eyes widen at his words, and then the elevator chooses this moment to ding our arrival. Ryder pushes away from me and steps out, extending his hand to me. “Come in, Estella. Welcome t
o my domain.”
Still stunned from his earlier statement, or rather how my body instantly reacted, longing to feel his hard muscles against my curves once again, I do as he says and curiously look around me. Part of me craves to know what hides behind the person Ryder presents to the world.
And what better place to find it out than his home?
Lacing our hands together, I follow him, my eyes drinking in the view around me from the bare white walls to the spotless gold marble floor, where several unopened black boxes lie.
The spacious living room has a wide, brown leather couch, a TV hanging on the opposite wall, a small table with a stack of books on it, and a desk in the corner by the bar, which has such a large variety of bottles I wonder if one person can drink this much in his lifetime.
Empty bookshelves spread over one wall, hinting at the vast collection that he plans to put out—probably explaining the boxes.
It’s a well-known fact he collects antique manuscripts dating back centuries and keeps them hidden away from the world, not wanting to share them. An expensive hobby he can afford.
An arch-like entry to the kitchen is located nearby. It’s bordered by a silver counter where shiny equipment glistens in the bright lights swinging from the ceiling.
I blink at the collection of knives present near the sink, in every shape and size, as if someone has prepared for a battle here.
A narrow hallway on the right probably leads to two bedrooms that are hidden by the oak doors.
Although the place lacks color and life… the atmosphere somehow makes me curious, scared, and excited all at once.
As if wicked energy resides here, and with the right tools, you could unlock so much passion and so many secrets they might swallow you whole if you’re not careful enough.
Yet, the pull is so powerful you cannot stop yourself from falling down the rabbit hole.
Ryder goes to the couch and removes the cuff links from his shirt before his fingers rapidly unbutton it. “You need to change,” he says, removing it and showing me his carved eight-pack and tan skin in all its glory. His defined muscles move with each breath he takes, making it almost impossible to tear my gaze away from him.
