by S. L. Naeole
Glancing down at my ring, I felt a dash of hope light me up. This ring, the house—they weren’t parts of any game. The grand gesture of proposing wasn’t an act. Right? Men didn’t buy three-million-dollar homes just to pretend, did they?
Did men do that? Did men play long games like these just to fuck with a woman’s head?
I looked over at Holly, her face tense even in sleep. She’d texted Lyle up until takeoff, informing me that he wasn’t letting Mal know that we were on our way. She hadn’t told Lyle everything, but she did tell him enough where he understood that something bad was happening and that it involved me and Mal.
“He cares about you,” Holly had confided to me as the plane took off. “Lyle said that you’ve made Michael happy in a way that he’s never seen before, and that makes Lyle happy.”
Trying to be positive, I asked if Lyle being happy made her happy. She smiled. “It does. He gets that I miss Cali, and said that he was glad that there’d be someone else besides Michael he could talk to about that. He also gets me. And…he told me something.”
I looked at her, waiting patiently.
“See, I told him that I’d slept with Michael and that I hoped it wouldn’t be a problem for us since, you know, Michael’s his boss and everything, but then he told me that there was no way that was possible, the whole me sleeping with Michael thing. I asked him why and he told me that Michael never sleeps with the women he brings to hotels. Like, ever.
“And the thing is, I believe him. I know that sounds like such a fucking betrayal to you since I told you that I had slept with Michael, too, but I was so drunk. He touched me, and it felt so good, but maybe it was just him being nice to me that felt good. It’s been such a long time since any guy’s been just…nice to me that maybe being so drunk I misconstrued it as something else. Lyle says he was there when Michael put me in the bed at the hotel. He says that Michael didn’t do anything but tuck me in. He says he’s seen him do that a lot and that Michael hates drunk girls. That’s why he never does anything with them.
“So, I guess what I’m trying to tell you is that I’m sorry. I know that’s probably been eating away at you this whole time, thinking about the two of us together. But we…we weren’t together. Not like I thought, anyway.”
In truth, I did feel relieved that she now knew the truth. At least about her night with Mal, anyway. For a period, Holly had believed herself in love with Mal, which did make things more difficult. But now? Now I wasn’t just relieved that she knew the truth. Now I was relieved because if it turned out that Mal and Franklyn were, indeed, friends, then it would mean that at least her heart wouldn’t break alongside mine. At least one of us would be safe from that misery.
Heartsore and feeling lonely, I began to scroll through some of Mal’s messages to me, needing to believe that he was indeed a good man, one that wouldn’t intentionally hurt me with these sick and twisted games. I needed to know that he was the man he’d said he was, the man I’d believed him to be.
Mal: I dreamt about you last night. You were pregnant with our first child and wanted to name her Victorine.
Me: After Manet’s muse?
Mal: Is that who she is?
Me: Yes. Victorine Meurent. She’s also who my parents named me after.
Mal: You amaze me all the time with the things I learn about you.
I scrolled to a conversation we’d had after our first night together.
Mal: You know what the best part about waking up next to you is?
Me: What?
Mal: The fact that even after I’m away from you, I can still smell you on my skin. I’m walking around like an idiot sniffing myself and I don’t care because every time I smell you I’m in my happy place. You’re my happy place, Victoria.
My vision fogged with tears as I read the message he’d left me after he’d told me he loved me.
Mal: Did you know that I practiced how I’d tell you?
Mal: How to tell you that I love you?
Me: No. You did?
Mal: It was like I was giving myself a pep talk. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted it to be this momentous occasion that you’d never forget.
Me: Because so many guys have been falling at my feet declaring their love for me, right?
Mal: No.
Mal: Because I plan on telling you that I love you every single day in a thousand different ways, but I wanted the first time to stand out from all the rest.
Me: It does.
Mal: Really? How?
Me: Because you said it and meant it.
I closed my eyes. Did he mean it? Was it real or had it all just been some kind of ruse? It’s not like it would have been hard to fool me. I didn’t go online. I didn’t pay attention to the business world or to celebrity gossip. He could have had this whole other life and I would’ve never known about it. Hell, I’d still be living in ignorance right now if Vonne hadn’t messaged me.
Vonne.
Shit.
I’d been avoiding her for weeks and instead of sitting down with her and talking through everything, I’d run. Again. If it turned out that Mal had been screwing with me, would Vonne even care? Or had I left too many people in my dust one too many times?
My phone buzzed in my hand, startling me. I looked and saw that there was a new message from Mal. I quickly tapped my code and then read it, my heart aching at the words that filled my screen.
Mal: Did you know that gray wolves mate for life? Totally monogamous.
Mal: When I think of you, how strong you are, how hard you fought, I see that wolf. That day in the car, when we had that argument, I saw your fangs.
Mal: And those fangs were sexy. So fucking sexy.
Mal: You were protecting yourself in the same way a wolf protects what’s hers. You amazed me.
Mal: And then when you went down on me out of the blue, it showed me your fierceness. You wanted something and you took it. You didn’t let fear or anything stop you.
Mal: Just like a gray wolf.
Mal: I would be the luckiest man on earth if you allowed me to be your mate. Forever.
Mal: I love you, sweetheart.
My finger thumbed the ring on my left hand and I began to sob.
Lyle met us at the airport. It was already six in the evening by the time we pulled up to the front of a massive building with Lachlan spelled out in large metal letters out front. Similar to his New York building in style, this one was more decadent in its building materials, with the marble flooring encroaching outside of the building, and the glass walls and doors were taller, exposing the massive light sculpture that hung from the thirty-foot-tall ceiling in the lobby.
Lyle spoke to Holly quietly and then walked me through those glass doors. He nodded at two security guards before leading me to an awaiting elevator. It was empty, and as I stepped into it Lyle swiped a card and pressed the top floor button.
“The secretaries have gone home for the day and everyone else is at the press party on the tenth floor so no one will be there when you arrive. His office is to the left and all the way down the hall. You can’t miss it. Good luck, Miss Oh,” he said before the doors closed.
Good luck.
Luck had nothing to do with this. Luck had absolutely nothing to do with anything. It wasn’t bad luck that put me in Franklyn’s basement. It wasn’t good luck that got me out of it. It wasn’t good or bad luck that had caused Mal to rear end me. Things just happened.
Sometimes those things are good. Sometimes those things are horrible. Sometimes those things are fucking awful and life-altering. And sometimes those things are amazing and just as life-altering, but in a good way.
So when the doors opened on the seventieth floor and I stepped out into the empty reception area, I hoped that it had been the latter that had happened to me. That Mal had been that amazing thing that happened to me, and that my life had altered in a good way. I hoped with each step toward his office that what he said he felt, what he’d said was true.
My thumb r
ubbed against the ring, touching the band, feeling it strangely cool despite the fist of tension I’d made the entire ride up the elevator. I continued to thumb the band as I steeled myself forward, the sight of his office doors coming into view making me nervous. He had filled me with so much hope, so much love, so much promise. He’d given me everything I could have ever hoped for in love, restored my belief in that part of life that I’d shoved away for so long. It couldn’t have all been fake.
My hand gripped the chrome handle to his office door and pushed. I walked into the spacious monochromatic office—so similar in style to the one in Manhattan—and approached his desk as he focused intently on what was on his computer screen, his brows pulled together tightly in a visible grimace. Slowly, as if only registering in degrees that he wasn’t alone, his head tilted upward. His eyes widened at the sight of me, and then a strained smile spread across his face.
“Victoria,” he breathed before standing and approaching me, his arms wrapping around my waist and pulling me against his chest so tightly it hurt.
I sank into him, inhaling deeply that calming, healing scent of him, ignoring the bite of pain from his tense grip. He felt solid, warm, strong. In that moment of connection, any doubts I had about him, any fear I had left me in a whoosh of air as he hugged me to him, heartbeat to heartbeat. I wrapped my arms around his neck and sighed when he lifted me into his embrace, my feet floating inches off the ground. I’d been feeling so heavy the entire flight here. I’d felt the weight of the world, of my past, of my lost future resting solidly on my shoulders, and with one act he’d made me weightless again.
I loved him and he loved me.
This was real.
This was—
My eyes caught something in the glass window that faced me, my reflection so clear that everything else reflected in it was that much clearer. I squirmed out of his hold and moved around him. Immediately he raced toward his desk but it was too late.
My eyes flicked up to his in horror.
I grabbed the thin screen of his computer monitor and swung it around, exposing what I’d seen in the window’s reflection, the accusation I wanted to throw at him dead on my lips because I’d lost my voice. I’d lost my hope.
I’d lost everything.
Without another word, I turned away. He grabbed my arm and I screamed. I screamed and screamed and screamed at him before tearing myself away from him and running toward his office door and throwing it open so hard it slammed into the glass wall behind it. Shards of glass rained down on me but I didn’t care. He was shouting and cursing but I was already down the hall. The elevator was still waiting for me, open, and I hurried into it, slamming my hand on the lobby button. The doors closed before he could reach me and as each floor whizzed by, the weight on my shoulders returned tenfold.
As soon as the elevator doors reopened I burst into the lobby to see Lyle standing there, his phone pressed against his ear. The two security guards who’d greeted him were waiting. They approached me but I began to scream again and Lyle rushed toward me. Holly was with him, too.
“He was watching…Franklyn took videos. He was...Mal was watching them,” I cried to Holly between wheezes. Her eyes doubled in size as her mouth fell open in a silent gasp. She looked at the guards, saw the expression of panic and hurt in my face, and then nodded her head toward the exit. Together she and Lyle kept the guards at bay and I took off through the lobby doors and down the sidewalk.
This was Los Angeles. I hadn’t been here since I was a kid. Everything had changed so much and the last time I’d been here, I was hated, despised, and mocked. The last time I was here, I’d been Victoria Olsen, the Huntington whore.
Now I was back, only this time I actually felt like one. A big, stupid, heartbroken whore.
My phone kept buzzing in my pocket. I kept ignoring it. Eventually, the battery would die and then I’d never have to see another text again.
After fleeing Mal’s office, I’d ran a few blocks and then caught a cab to Long Beach. I made my way to the Pine Avenue Pier and found an empty bench. I sat there for what felt like hours. Maybe even days. The sky was dark, the lights glittering on the water. Couples and families were walking, enjoying their time together while I was left shaking with silent sobs. The world had always continued to spin even when my world was falling apart. It had always been that way. It would always be that way.
And even when my story faded away, replaced by the next titillating scandal, their lives continued on as if nothing had happened. Mine, instead, had simply crumbled into nothingness.
But I had rebuilt my life. I had found a safe harbor. I’d moved on and lived. And then they took it all away again. Tore it right out of my grasp, right out of my heart.
I couldn’t believe it.
Mal.
How could he?
Exhaustion ripped through my body as grief and anger stole precious energy from me, but I didn’t dare close my eyes. Even blinking filled me with horror.
How fucking could he?
The sight of my body chained to that couch on his computer screen… The boys, the men standing around me, their faces twisting and contorting as they masturbated on my body, touched me, violated me... It wasn’t a picture he’d seen. Those faces had been moving. My body had been squirming, struggling to free myself from the chains that held me down, that forced me to endure the pain and humiliation. And he’d been looking at it. He’d been watching it when I’d walked in!
I knew that Franklyn had taken pictures, but I’d forgotten about the videos. I was there for days. How many hours of footage did he take? And how many people did he share the footage with?
How long had Mal been watching it? Had he watched all of them? Was he watching his favorite clip?
Fury, hot and deadly, boiled up in me. The whole fucking time I was telling him about Franklyn, he knew! He knew and said nothing! He was probably laughing at me inside. Every time we’d made love he must have pictured me chained to that bed, feeling like a fucking pimp because he was doing something those guys hadn’t.
What a fucking idiot.
That’s what I was. An idiot.
How could I have fallen for it? How could I have fallen for everything so quickly? Was I that desperate for affection? For love? Was I that damaged that the first sign of attraction and affection from a man was enough to tear me away from the truth about men and their hideous nature? Their need to rape and abuse and steal from women who trusted them?
I’d kept myself so safe for so long. I’d protected myself and did what I knew was right and I’d been safe. I’d been safe for eight years.
Yeah, but I wasn’t happy.
Happiness is overrated. I was fine with things the way they were. Now look at me! I’m a fucking mess and it’s because I wanted to be “happy”. Fuck happiness. Fuck wanting happiness. Fuck being happy.
“And fuck Michael Alan Lachlan,” I shouted into the night air. “And fuck Franklyn McAvery. And fuck every goddamn thing any man has ever told me!”
A few people turned to stare at me, but I didn’t care. I simply didn’t care anymore.
My phone buzzed again and I reached into my pocket and chucked it into the sea. I never wanted to see those messages again. I never wanted to see Mal’s name come across my screen ever again. I never wanted to see the photo that had been my wallpaper ever again.
I never wanted to even hear the name—
“Holy shit, it’s Michael Lachlan!”
My head whipped around and there he was, standing behind me, his face a model of utter despondency, fear, and something else. Something worse. Something that sank into the pit of my stomach and burned me, branded me from the inside out.
Guilt.
“Get away from me,” I whispered, part plea, part threat.
His eyes widened as his eyes drifted from my face downward. I couldn’t help but look and saw the dark splotches of blood. Fuck, the glass from the wall. I’d been cut and hadn’t even noticed.
“Sweet
heart, you’ve been hurt.”
His voice, that word…they were like stabs to my heart. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to cry out “why?” I wanted to run into his arms and make him tell me that I was wrong and that he loved me. I wanted to shove him into the water and watch him disappear.
But I didn’t do any of those things.
“Don’t you ever—ever call me sweetheart again. You’re a monster and a liar,” I said instead, my voice a low rumble, my heart fracturing with every word. “You knew this whole time, about Franklyn, the videos. You knew and lied about it, and I fell for every goddamn word.”
He shook his head. He had the audacity to deny it when I had seen the proof not once, but twice. “I didn’t know anything until you told me. What you saw, baby, that was a misunderstanding.”
Scoffing at him, I moved around the bench so that the shore was to my back. “A misunderstanding? So that press conference you had this morning with the guy who kidnapped me, who sexually assaulted me, who had his friends come over and join in, who videotaped the whole thing, and who then ruined my life even more by claiming that I wanted it—that was a misunderstanding? So me walking in on you fucking watching that video, watching me cry while they…while they raped me was a misunderstanding?”
My voice was high pitched, sounding almost frantic. “I might have been fooled once by you, Mal, but I’m done being your fucking toy.”
